Chaos & Ruin

The High Council

The distant peals of the Hightower brought Gerion out from his twisted land of dreams ,his shout of anguish echoing through the night sky as the memories of his haunted past came back one after another...years of torment, agony and angst; merciless as they ripped away at his fragile and delicate soul,leaving him weaker still.As it has for my whole fucked up life....

Gerion had only been a sulking child of four when the First Ascension War had began..and his memories of those days were many but a mist clouded them.Now and then he would stumble upon a memory buried deep within him and....

The bell rang again and Gerion knew, duty called. For years the High Council had been holding meetings for The Chosen Seven, a council to honour those to act according to the Archangels and lead humanity to The Golden Age..well at least that's what that wrinkled Crone had prophecised before the last breaths of life had escaped her...

Such matters held little interest in them for Gerion cause all that Old Crone had said were nothing but bullshit...and Gerion knew what these Barbarian Crones were capable of, for the faded blue of his eyes bore witness to their capabilities...

He rose up from the huge wooden bed that had done little to comfort him to sleep and drops of sweat dripped down his long nose, climbing down him tanned skin to soak into his disheveled black and scrawny beard as he stared down at cold marble floor upon which his bare feet now rested.His long hair didn't hold much of its usual posture or air to it.It rested on his shoulders,ungroomed and straggly.Looking away from the cold,numbing floor the first rays of light tiptoed into the room through the velvet that curtained his huge windows.From deep within the city sounds of celebration flooded into his room.He could hear men,women and children cheer as the High Priest went by accompanied by his Guardians.Not that he had to see what was going on to know that it was actually happening......the sound and the day was enough to know what would happen.

The High Priest would make a fuss about the whole matter and preach a load of crap and talk about the council he had had with the Chosen Seven and how the Prophecy was close to being achieved.....That's how its been for the last twelve years and that's how it would end.

The room he resided in was huge, furnished with all that the City had and decorated with the mightiest of paintings that survived the First Ascension War but the most beautifully painted one, that which covered the wall atop his wardrobe and the one he hated the most was the one that captivated him the most; for it bore a striking resemblance to the few memories of the War he had stumbled upon.

That raging fire of red and orange,the engulfing aura of smoke and the blood  .........and that loaming figure of oblivion.........

The memories flooded in................and Gerion knew: the Council would have to wait.