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Post by Vladimir T. Strife on Jun 28, 2010 10:25:59 GMT -5
Dull sunlight poured in through the dust windows, hueing the near empty bar with the sort of cheesy sephia tone you'd see in a Western movie. As the bartender wiped down a few glasses that were already clean to give the appearance that his presence there wasn't entirely meaningless, a lone patron in a white jacket fills up on a slice of chocolate cake in the corner. The door creaks open and in strolls a particularly famous Romanian. Despite it being merely 6 in the evening, he wastes little time in making his way to the counter and ordering a glass of Guinness, the bartender giving him an odd look as he delivers the beverage.
"It's a bit early to be drinking, isn't it?"
Vladimir takes a drink and smiles.
"Well, if you must know, I'm waiting on someone who I asked to meet me here. And after all, when in Rome, right?"
TBCB They Know Who
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Post by ~Seraphiel~ on Jun 28, 2010 12:13:08 GMT -5
Taking a sustained drink from his glass, Vladimir doesn't bat an eyelid as an imposing cloaked figure trudges through the bar door. Crossing the wooden floor to the stools, the man removes his hood to reveal himself as Seraphiel and proceeds to sit next to Vlad--starting abruptly with:
"You wanted to see me?"
Before the GodKing can answer though the intruisive bartender leans over towards them both and looks at the sultan.
"And what can I..." "You can leave!"
Demands Vlad, to which the Barkeep happily obliges by scurrying back to the stockroom, leaving only Seraph and Vladimir in sight. Waiting impatiently on some sort of offer or threat from the hardcore king but when none comes he presses:
"Hey this was great, but if there is nothing else then I'll be going." "SIT!" "I'm a busy man Vlad, if you've brought me here to try and intimidate me then save whatever overblown speech you've been practicing--you're looking at one man who has no fear." "Heh, funny, but please I have no interest in scaring you."
Taking another slip of his cold drink, Vlad continues:
"No, infact the reason I brought you here was not for myself but for an old 'friend'..." "Ah Seraphiel, we meet again!"
The sultans ears prick up at the voice bellowing from behind him.
TBC by He Knows Who
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Post by Vladimir T. Strife on Jun 28, 2010 15:33:10 GMT -5
"It was no surprise to me when you left that cesspool that was EVPW... but I must confess I don't see the advantage of taking up shelter in GHW, the one place as steaming with the stench of sin and demoralization as EVPW was."
Donovon doesn't avert his eyes from the chocolate cake before him, taking another bite as Seraphiel takes in what is happening.
"But I suppose the secret to this lies in the company you keep. Despite all of your preachings and everything you ingrained in me, I find you surrounded by sinners and scum. Men like Jaggeroth, a man whose sin is so grand that he hides behind a mask to portray to the world how little a man he still is. Women like Haven Cassady, a manipulative whore who flaunts her sex appeal for attention."
"You didn't learn from me all that well, now have you? You're in cahoots with Vladimir Strife, of all people, and you feel like you have a right to question me? Hippocricy was never on my curriculum."
"Oh, but that's where you're wrong. It was you who taught me that despite the revulsion of the ignorant, there is no greater sin than for those aware of their obligation to reject the way. Mr. Strife, although perhaps the most grievous sinner I've met, is nonetheless ignorant of the light. His punishment is the insatiable rage that destroys him further daily. You, however, my dear master, are more acquainted with the light than anyone... and yet you aid those who blot it out. I've no particular fondness for the so-called Behemoth, but so long as my motive is righteous, I will accept whatever means lead the way to fruition."
As the Leviathan takes one final bite of his cake, he sets the fork gently down across the plate. Placing both hands onto the table, he presses down against it as he rises from his seat, straightening his massive figure.
"Perhaps it isn't you who is to fault for this turn of events, Master.. perhaps it is I, who in eagerness to learn, ignored the truth that was laid out before me. This is nothing new, after all, as you crippled the Armata in our old home. By taking on men like AJ Scally and Chris Pyro and Havok, it was by your hand that we found failure, unable to hold our heads above the rushing tide while carrying their weight. Worthless, pitiful men who no more believed in our cause than Mr. Strife here did. It was by ignoring the truth hidden in plain sight before me that I inadvertently led us to this crossroad, but it is also by my hand that this will be resolved."
Seraphiel shifts around in his seat, feeling a little uneasy in the moment.
"I am a fair man, however, and so I offer you a response. I claim you guilty of the very crimes you preached out against. As the sole man in Circus who truly understands the weight of their sin, your responsibility for those things and tolerance of such behavior bares the greatest severity."
Donovan Maxwell turns his head to glare over his shoulder at the leader of the defunct Armata, his piercing gaze unwavering.
"How do you plead?"
TBCB Seraphiel
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Post by ~Seraphiel~ on Jun 28, 2010 17:25:51 GMT -5
Affording himself a few moments to answer, the sultan leans over the bar and produces a can of Cola. Cracking the lid and gulping a mouthful down he responds to his one time companion.
"They say that in the court of his own conscience, no guilty man is acquitted but should I feel no guilt then it surely means I have commited no crime.
As the Messiah of the new world I have only one judge and he answers to no man. Not you, not Vladimir, not any authoritiy on this plane."
"You may have started as a servant of god but in the recent months your decisions have been made from the heart, not the soul."
Getting out of his seat Seraphiel walks over to meet his former pupil, keeping one eye firmly on the Godking at all times.
"Donovan, if I taught you anything it was that though one may not understand the motives of their lord the truly righteous will follow regardless. Whether you understood my motives or not, as my most faithful apostle you should have followed me wherever I led, it was your choice however to pull back and leave me unassisted within Glory and Honour Wrestling--the blood of those affected by the unguided attrocities commited rests on your hands as much as it does mine Leviathan because the sting of your betrayal was not one that went unfelt."
Taking another firm sip from his can, Seraphiel savours the drink before continuing.
"In regards to the company I choose to keep, why would I sit back and watch these ruffians hang themselves when I can tie the noose and hand it to them? The souls of those within the circus and the minds they corrupt may be lost to the kingdom of heaven but here on Earth that does not mean they can't serve a purpose. For me that purpose is the same today as it is was when you and I first met over a year ago. To lay down all who oppose the will of God and clear the way for the establishment of my Seraphim and the full glorification of the new lord.
A year ago you had this vision but I can see it in your eyes that the view we shared of the new world has been clouded for you by what seems like the common downfall of man, 'Jealousy', or maybe in my absence that devil on your shoulder managed to drown out me on the other, I just don't know.
Either way though, you knew full well when you came here today that the repercussions of the next few moments would be the making of one of us and very literally the breaking of the other. Condemning yourself to an eternity of suffering by shunning ones lord you surely know what awaits you, so I have no illussions as to the lengths you'll go to to come out victorious over the one man who could have been your saviour but I just hope that when I put you down once and for all the light will shine upon you and you'll realise the mistakes you've made and repent--that privilege will be the last favour I shall grant you as a friend."
Crushing the can, he lets it clatter to the ground before shifting his attention between the GodKing and the Leviathan swiftly, focusing back on Donovan before rounding his speech off.
"Like Dr.Frankenstein perhaps the monster I have created within you will be my own downfall but you of all people should know my weaknesses are few and far between so victory for you shall be a hard fought battle but it's one I'm willing to fight if it proves myself the one true king fit to sit upon the throne.
Question is, Donovan, are you?"
Getting within inches of Donovans nose, Seraphiel maintains an eye to eye gaze with the man he once respected more than any other.
TBC by Donovan.
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Post by Vladimir T. Strife on Jun 29, 2010 7:04:39 GMT -5
"Simply put... no."
Seraphiel is taken aback by Donovon's response, not having anticipated such an answer for even a second.
"Unlike you, Master, I can not fight for a throne. My own glory is hardly a large enough bounty to call me to battle. My fight is that of a higher calling, a debt owed to a Master that even you must answer to. A debt we all pay eventually in one way or another."
Donovon doesn't back down from his mentor, but doesn't seem to get angered by the circumstances. Despite all of the shared words, his voice remains calm and collected without fail.
"...A debt I've come to collect upon."
Donovon raises an open hand to the chest of the Seraphim and puts some distance between them with a hard shove that forces his lower back against the bar counter.
TBCB Seraphiel
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Post by ~Seraphiel~ on Jun 29, 2010 9:27:46 GMT -5
Looking back, Seraphiel notices himself to be cornered. Sucking it up he inhales before barking:
"Enough talk! An undelivered threat shows one to be afraid, Donovon, so I must tell you that your only option now is to strike. Before you do however I should say, I am but a man made in the image of god, violence waged against me is as good as violence against god himself my child so if challenging me today--whatever your cause--was a man's promise of a life of service to Azazel then the second you lay a hand on me you may as well have signed your soul over to Lucifer himself."
Putting one hand on Donovons shoulder, he begins to speak. The Leviathan promptly shrugs free from his mentors loose grasp.
"I'm merely the mortal vessel of the heavens, through which the lords will shall be done; his enemies shall fall at my feet. With the power of god flowing through me I will never waver from my path--I'll never stray from the track he set out for the reightous. The day the truly holy start to reclaim this heathenous planet from the forces of evil comes tonight, it starts with you Donovon. With your end comes a new begining for the world...a new hope! We haven't lost our way my friend we've been lying dormant, waiting for this day, for this chance now I implore you: STRIKE!"
Seraphiel turns his back on the his former disciple and lowers his head, muttering under his breath he opens his arms out at either side--palms down--leaving himself completely exposed to his traitorous one-time friend.
"Pater noster, qui es in caelis: sanctificetur Nomen Tuum; adveniat Regnum Tuum; fiat voluntas Tua, sicut in caelo, et in terra. Panem nostrum cotidianum da nobis hodie; et dimitte nobis debita nostra, Sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris; et ne nos inducas in tentationem; sed libera nos a Malo."
Repeating the mutterings once more he slowly closes his eyes as Donovon and Vladimir share glances.
TBC by Donovon
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Post by Vladimir T. Strife on Jul 1, 2010 20:13:41 GMT -5
"Dear Master... you've yet to see the fault in your logic. We were all made in his image. You would have the world believe you are God's right hand man, a flawless and divine soul who carries out his will. You are, however, but a man... a flawed, manipulative and disgusting creature who deserves God's grace no more than you deserve the breath you waste. You fled the abandoned the Armata and thus, your sin is betrayal... a sin you yourself taught me was unforgivable."
Donovon picks up his chair, looking it over as Seraphiel remains in place, his confidence in his righteousness unshaken.
"I am not without compassion, however, my Master. I implore you to take comfort in knowing that your end shall be quicker and less painful than those your comrades will face."
The Leviathan swings the wooden chair hard and plants it across the back of the man who had mentored him in EVPW. The wood splinters and splits, pieces flying out in all directions from the blast. Seraphiel drops to his knees, leaning against a barstool to keep from lying in the floor. The shot enrages him, finally bringing him to lash back as he presses up to his feet and turns with a mighty haymaker across the lower jaw of his student.
Maxwell stumbled into a table, tipping it over inadvertently before the two stare one another down and move in for a fight.
TBCB Seraphiel
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Post by ~Seraphiel~ on Jul 1, 2010 22:49:14 GMT -5
Stepping into each other both men put their hands up to defend their face, each throwing tort hooks. Rumbling through the bar, the sickening repetetive clap of fists connecting with flesh is only contested by the rattling of the tables & chairs being knocked over. Seraph grabs hold of Donovons coat and pulls his one-time student in towards him, reducing the distance between them and as such making any damaging violence impossible--albeit temporarily. Standing face to face with his former friend he stares dead into Donovons eye and barks:
βIf anyone says, 'I love God,' yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen John 4:20.β
Blocking out the gabble from Sera as best he can, Maxwell grits his teeth and pushes the Coloradan back with all the strength he can muster. Staggering back, the self proclaimed sultan of suffering trips over one of the many chairs knocked over in the ruccus. Immediately seizing the opportunity, Donovon gclimbs through the rubble and plants himself on Seraphs stomach, pinning him to the floor before unleashing another anger fuelled torrent of punches. Letting up for a second to get his breath back, his eyes widen as Sera's gargantuan right hand shoots up and grasps his throat.
Squeezing tighter and tighter Donovons hands scrabble for a release but alas, the vice like grip of the Sultan seems unbreakable as the Coloradan switches the face of the fight by rolling them both over and getting himself in a mount position over Maxwell. Pressing down into his throat further, his furios disposition abaits and he softly utters.
βFor the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is...β
His last words cut off abruptly with a shatter of glass, the pale brown of a beer bottle grabbed in haste by Vladimir wrapping itself around the dome of one Seraphiel, rendering him unconcious it'd seem as his limp body drapes across that of his pupil. Rolling the larger man off from ontop of him, Donovon gets to a vertical base and dusts himself off, sharing a glance with Vlad he offers no gratitude but Vladimir doesn't care, his acquiantances well being is none of his concern.
"Someone had to shut him up."
Turning away from the carnage, the GodKing simply sits before the bar and returns to his Guinness, not once turning back he ignores Donovon hooking both Seraphs legs and dragging him the length of the bar to the exit, stopping only to open the door he bumps the sultan down on step at a time til out of sight. The scrawny barman re-appears as he hears the door close, his jaw dropping at the bomb site his bar has become. Turning to Vlad he looks for something, anything, from the Behemoth:
"Put it on my tab."
The scene fades to black on the image of Vladimir gently sipping his drink.
EoT (Comments Appreciated)
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