Ch. 13 -Paradise Lost

Much to Crisis' disappointment, her catch did not struggle or resist, even when she deliberately teased and tossed the tender morsel about with her tongue. But hunger took over and she promptly swallowed Hebron's body, which remained motionless even as Crisis' stomach acid began to burn away at it. Even without any chase or reaction this was still an activity that she took the time to savor, and rolled onto her back to make the best of what was still to come. The act did not seem to bother Nadiel, for he had more important things to worry about. He removed his mask and wiped the sweat from his brow, then walked over to where Hebron's railgun had fallen and with a grunt he lifted the massive weapon over his head, spun it around once, then plunged it into the ground with a resounding slam that echoed into the distance. With the tip of his forefinger he wiped off some of her blood which was splattered against its length and used it as paint to inscribe the Hebron family's emblem across the side of the stock, then bowed his head at this makeshift grave. Crisis had difficulty making sense of his actions, and still poked and prodded her own belly with her fingers in the hope of getting a response from her meal. "Hey, I got an idea." she said as she leaned her stomach closer to him, "Maybe if you try talking to her she'll start wiggling around." Her intentions may have remained as innocent as ever, but Nadiel did not appear to be at all pleased with her request. "Show respect for the dead." he said slowly, but with a fiery look in his eye. Confused, Crisis attempted to state what she believed to be obvious. "But, she's still..." "No." Nadiel interrupted, "It was nothing but pure hate that drove her to this, the life is already gone from her." His epitaph complete, he turned and began to walk away, leaving Crisis even more puzzled than before. "Its a human thing" he said with a sigh and a gentle shake of his head, "you wouldn't understand."

Immediately he headed straight for the relative privacy of his shelter in the knothole, for he had issues to grapple with that would not be helped by an inquisitive blonde looking over his shoulder. As per usual she would be occupied for at least a couple hours while lazily converting her victim to body fat, which gave Nadiel time to think hard about the clues that his visitor had provided him. Most troubling was the fact that she had claimed to have come all that way simply to warn him, and that the current Lord Ellis wanted him, or specifically a 'magic trick' that he had learned. But that made no sense. He may have discovered the angelic seal, but his master could have only made it to his current position through an even greater control over the same thing, so why was it so crucial that Nadiel had learned of the seal as well? He would need quite a history lesson to find out, but luckily he had a means to contact his village's foremost historian. While reclining back in the confines of the knothole, he laid his rifle on top of him and allowed the barrel to rest against his forehead. Once again tapping into the binding that kept the seal contained within his shells, but this time just barely enough to make the connection, for the last thing he needed was to attract attention with the smell of his roasted flesh. He was careful to maintain control, after his previous encounter with his ancestor Nadiel was left with a strong distrust of his own actions, but this time he would need to risk giving up control of his body to learn a thing or two. "Old man, I know you're there." he whispered to his weapon. "This is unexpected," echoed a familiar voice directly into Nadiel's consciousness, "Did today's little incident wear on your nerve?" "Not at all." Nadiel replied, "It merely brought to light a few peculiarities that demand explanation." The voice laughed subtly at Nadiel's attempt to maintain composure. "And that woman, she was your second cousin, wasn't she? Do you care nothing for the death and suffering of your own flesh and blood? Nadiel scoffed at this. "Naomi of the Hebron family did as she chose of her own free will, and simply paid the consequences for making her choices incorrectly. That is all that needs to be said of it." "Then why did you intervene?" Nadiel had difficulty answering this question. "Because the decisions I've made were of my own free will. I chose to spare the oversized tubesteak because she did not make my decisions for me as Hebron believed that she did, and thus did not deserve punishment for it." "So blood is not thicker than water in your case? Very interesting indeed..." Nadiel's face was whipped into a scowl. "Just what are you implying, my dear deceased geriatric?" "Nothing at all, my boy. Its just startling how much you remind me of myself when I was your age." Nadiel took a moment to ponder what that could mean, and suddenly brought to mind the memory of his little chat with Vivian, which quickly put a shocked expression on his face. "Wait! I don't share your tastes in women. Besides, the only reason the blonde restrains herself from using me as a chew toy is some agreement she's made to another." "Mark my words, lad, a woman never chooses to do anything for just one reason. But that's beside the point. You requested answers so I will provide them."

"Your purpose was decided at birth. Your former master wished to keep his position, this desire dominates his thoughts even now. He knows that his life will not be infinite, just as his father's was not, and his grandfather's, and my own. He wishes to use the seal as a medium to exchange bodies with you, and pass it off as a simple changing of the guard." "Hmm," Nadiel pondered over this, "Why go to such lengths to disguise his own death?" "Because of the repercussions of the event being known outside the village's gates. If word of it made it to either of the great empires, the next harvest of peace would begin." Almost hesitating to find out the meaning of that, Nadiel finally worked up the nerve to ask. "And, pray tell, what is this harvest of peace that you speak of?" "The only reason that my village ever existed." Ellis responded proudly. "One hundred and twenty-one years ago I had no home or clan. I had been a wanderer, searching for ages to find a means to escape from this twisted world to the one from whence I came. The angels gave me no aid or refuge. The only consolation I received from them was this link to any descendants that I may father. So, to preserve any hope of seeing my greatest goal to completion I had little choice but to settle down and start a family, to continue where I would inevitably leave off. Your great great grandmother was an apothecary who took me in when I emerged from the wilderness to the walls of her home city, Negav I believe it was called. She was a kind and loyal woman. When I told her of my hopes and dreams she took my arm and pledged to follow me anywhere. She bore me many daughters, but passed on before granting me a son. For my bloodline to endure I needed to refine and harden it as a blacksmith does steel. I arranged for my daughters to be united with only the purest blooded representatives of the mightiest races in the known world, so that their children would be mighty. We settled on an isolated hillside, safe from the lax and impure environment of the cities that seemed to spawn weakness at their core. There we would face hellish trials, but only become stronger for it. And hellish it was, for upon our very arrival we were accosted by the serpents and spiders. They, however, had more hatred for eachother than they did for the likes of me. But after spending centuries fighting demons and scraping my existence here I could stand beside them as their equal. If my offspring were to inherit my task then they would need to do the same. So I bargained with the mighty creatures, and bid them not to barely whet their hunger now on my fledgling family and then spill eachother's blood, but to wait until my family could grow to large enough proportions to satiate the both of them. They were to return to that place upon the event of my death, not to do battle with one another, but to test the worthiness of my progeny. And so it was that when my body failed me the nagas and dridders arrived to claim what was promised to them. The weak were consumed while the strong survived, my bloodline was purified and war between the two races was averted by the sacrifice of my children and the joy it brought to the the giants who could leave with their bellies full and with the knowledge that perhaps some humans could be trusted to hold true to their word. And then, like a phoenix rising from its own ashes, the survivors strong and cunning enough to outlast the onslaught rebuilt their homes and made the village anew. My grandson took the helm and claimed my name as his own, and vowed to uphold my legacy. Those were better days. Our people lived with pride, fought with honor, and died with dignity and purpose. Time and again, when a man bearing my name passed on the masters of the wilderness came and tested his generation to see if they lived up to the legends of their forefathers, and every time they would stand with unyielding courage, fight for their lives, and sacrifice the few to calm the anger of the jungle and allow the many to live peaceably. These tests were called harvests of peace for they brought three races to forget their differences and unite their intentions as one, and life was good. Your master is abusing the system. When his father died he claimed his place and silenced any word of his passing. There was no harvest for his generation, in fact any stories of the harvest were silenced. He wishes to overcome it entirely, and live a sheltered life as other civilizations do elsewhere. He does not wish to fulfill a purpose, he has succumbed to his fears and now slaves to find a way to overcome inevitability, even at the cost of his nephew's life. He is waiting for you to feel fear as he has done, and to return to him with your pride shattered so that he may do as he wishes with you. This will cause disaster. My people will lose their strength and purpose. Frustration will build in the nagas and dridders. Sooner or later their anger will overflow and they will once again make war with one another, and likely destroy all that breathes, and themselves as well. This world will turn into a tomb. I no longer have the power to change that, but you, lad, still have a beating heart. You've proven yourself to care more for calm than selfish protection of your kin. You know what must be done, but the choice remains yours." Nadiel exhaled and closed his eyes. "I'll sleep on it."

awsome!!!!!!!!!!!

Mhh the plot thicken ^_^

Just a remark on Crisis : she would clearly not have asked him to talk to Hebron to have her wriggiling around.. She is a lot more tactful and clever thant that ^^;

Might she instead make a similar gesture just to toy with him?

Similar gesture ? what do you mean ?

To make things simple, what would you think that she would do in that situation?

Mhh well she would enjoy her meal quietly, and probably away from him I think

In that case, perhaps the first paragraph may have gone something more like this:

Unlike many of her victims, who desperately struggled to escape her grasp once caught, Crisis faced no resistance from Hebron, who remained in shock from being so errantly forsaken by her comrade. For all intents and purposes the life had already left her, but because she still managed to draw a breath or two she remained a plenty suitable meal. Crisis may have ordinarily teased and taunted her food to provoke a more amusing reaction, but on this one occasion she tossed aside her habits and consumed her meal quickly and graciously. The fact that her hunger had reached its apex and demanded immediate nutrition may have played some role in her decision to do this, but her real motivation came from the obvious signs of regret that seemed to overflow from Nadiel's demeanor from the very moment that he told her that she could do as she wished with Hebron. It was perfectly clear that as necessary that it was to remove the threat she posed, it was a decision that he did not enjoy having to make. Feeling sympathy for the poor little man, she quietly took her leave from the scene to allow him to pay his last respects. He had no corpse to bury, but he still found a means to create a suitable tombstone. He retrieved her railgun and lifted the bulky weapon over his head, spun it around, then plunged it into the earth with a resounding slam that echoed into the distance, signaling her passing to one and all. The one thing left to be done was to leave an indication of just who it was who it was who fell on this day and on that ground. Nadiel wiped some of Hebron's blood that was splattered along the length of the weapon with his forefinger, and then used it to inscribe her family's emblem on the side of it's stock. He would offer no eulogy, instead he would show his respect by bowing his head. When he had sufficiently honored her memory, Nadiel finally breathed a sigh of relief and turned to make his solemn march back to the great tree.