by nightgaunt@earthlink.net (Alexander Shearer)
Corporeal Forces 3 Strength 5, Agility 7 Ethereal Forces 3 Intelligence 6, Precision 6 Celestial Forces 4 Will 10, Perception 6
Vessel: Human/4 (Charisma +1)
Role: Poet/3 (Status 2)
Fighting/5, Knowledge (Poetry)/2, Ranged Weapon/1
Healing (Corporeal/4), Numinous Corpus (Claws/3, Wings/5)
Balseraph of the War
Distraction/2
The wind is brisk against his cheeks, inspiring a deep breath to bring the cold morning inside. Ibadim smiles and steps out onto the wet asphalt as the light changes. It only takes a few steps (seven, this morning) to cross the street. Ibadim keeps his smile as he crosses the pavement and moves into the park. He stops to take it all in.
The trees are changing color, ready to lose their leaves for the winter. A bouquet of smells travels through the air. Water on the sidewalk and grass. Exhaust from the road mixed with oil in the gutter. The scent of cooked meat from a hot dog, along with a slight musty smell from the cart itself. Perfume, of a type no longer popular. Baby powder from a nearby carriage. Freshly cut grass, just yards away. Gel, in a young man's hair. Deodorant. Traces of scented soaps and shampoos. A half-eaten apple. Rotting garbage. Stale sweat. Newsprint. Rotting wood. A wet dog.
Ibadim blinks. A quick look at his watch tells him that he just lost about four minutes. Fortunately, he has nowhere to go. A quick walk puts him on the other side of the park, waiting. Nearby, a woman pays occasional attention to her daughter. The little one is maybe eight years old, and wandering towards the park's edge.
Her mother is reading a fashion magazine. Ibadim stands and moves to intercept the rambling child. He squats before her, grinning.
"Going somewhere?" His mother has looked up. "I don,t think you're supposed to leave the park." The little girl gives him a funny look as her mother rushes up behind her. Ibadim stands.
"You have to watch out - they're full of energy at this age." Ibadim's smile changes, becoming a bit more sincere. "John, remember? We talked about Grisham a couple weeks ago."
The woman relaxes and nods. "Right. Sorry, I don't know where my mind was."
Ibadim looks past her. The Soldier finally decided to show up. Time to go to work.
"It's okay. Everyone has off days."
Ibadim is a Balseraph with a mission. He used to be a Seraph, serving The Sword. He was gung-ho, inspired by the beauty of God,s creation and ready to slay any Hellspawned creature that tried to spoil it. When he wasn't fighting, Ibadim would spend hours simply feeling the Symphony play around him, envying humanity. What greater gift was there than this world?
After a decade serving Laurence in the corporeal, Ibadim began to wonder. Surely, it was apparent that the corporeal realm, a place of great and varied sensations, of beauty in infinite and subtle forms, was a paradise already. How could the pristine yet standardized celestial realm compare? Why would God give his children a taste of truth, then confine them in Heaven forever? Why was he fighting to support that?
It was almost as if everything just clicked perfectly into place. Ibadim abandoned his mission and wandered, searching for Truth, absolute and final. He couldn't find it, not until one of Dominic's Malakim nearly caught him. Rescued by the sheer, random luck of a particularly unsteady bit of scaffolding, Ibadim saw the truth. The world was paradise, and God taunted his children with it. Faced with such evil, Ibadim had no recourse but to dedicate himself to The War.
So Ibadim Fell.