{{The Cathedral of Light-Heaven-Present day}}
Tothiel floated in place, wondering what exactly he was doing in this
place. Long ago, this now run-down cathedral of broken, dull prisms had
belonged to Lucifer, the former Archangel of Light. Now though, it was
his responsibility to renovate the place. The pulsing, amorphous cloud
generated a hand from within itself and rubbed a nonexistent chin. It
preferred the masculine when it thought of itself as an individual, and
thought of itself as 'he'. It hadn't been this way five days ago,
although he hardly complained. As he heard the Ofanite rolling up with
the new load of clear prisms, Tothiel thought back on the momentous
events that had landed him here.
{{San Francisco, California-four days ago}}
Tothiel had just finished his rounds in the streets of the Tenderloin
district, looking for stray and abused children to bring back to the
shelter. Three months ago, Christopher, the Archangel of Children, had
assigned Tothiel to work at the shelter near the area where many of the
city's poor and neglected children resided and try to help them as best
he could. Christopher had been Tothiel's Superior for the last three
decades now, ever since Tothiel's creator, Eli, the Archangel of
Creation, inexplicably disappeared decades ago and left his Servitors in
the care of other Archangels. ~Well, he's not a bad sort, as Archangels
go. It could have been worse. I could have been stuck with Dominic....~
He had spent three hundreds years in the service of Creation. He had
possessed people ranging from Denis Dierdot to Vincent Van Gogh, so
possessing the bodies of children and guiding them towards safety was no
large task. The Kyriotate smiled through the mouth of his current host, a
skinny and malnourished child of ten with curly black hair and a
beautiful smile.
Dropping his boy-host and his current charges: a six-year-old
brother-sister pair with black eyes and a nervous cringe in their step,
and a nine-year old who could stand a bath and a few dozen feedings, off
at the shelter, he went celestial and turned to find Leslie. The kindly
young woman, all of twenty-four with straight brown hair and soft blue
eyes, waved to him. She was the Seneschal of the Tether of Children that
existed at this shelter, and was herself of the Cherubim. Speaking in
Angelic, Tothiel asked "You'll take of them?" Leslie, her real name
Lestrienne, nodded and smiled, responding in Angelic "Of course dear. If
you were corporeal, I'd say that you need a rest. You've been working
almost non-stop since you got here three months ago. I'm certain that
Christopher would not want you to work yourself into exhaustation, or
whatever the equivalent is for one of your Choir. Besides, its' time for
the weekly meeting of the angels in the area, isn't it?" Tothiel could
only bob forward, a mouth emerging to form a grateful smile before Leslie
made a shooing motion. "Go on dear. Shoo, and tell me what you learn."
Tothiel smiled again and floated off, hearing Leslie explain to the
children that she was speaking to an imaginary friend.
Tothiel was glad he had met Leslie and the others: Cadria and Questor,
Nesrin, Tressa, Gray, Gidriel, and....and Ithin. It was hard to think of
Ithin. Just a week ago, Ithin had been a part of their small group, a
Cherub of Revelation sent to expose the shady deals and corruption
amongst the rich and politically connected of the city. In his role as an
internal investigator within the local police organization, Ithin had
revealed a major corruption scandal that had involved several
high-ranking officers and had worked well with the group, even if he
did have some problems with the concept of privacy, helping
Tothiel to readjust to Earth life after a few months at Christopher's
House in Heaven.
"But then those punks showed up at the shelter. Damned Servitors of
Hardcore, always causing trouble." The words came out as a series of
angry tweets and growling barks from the pigeon and the stray dog he was
possessing at the moment. "Coming in at dawn, kicking in doors, tossing
children out of bed. What kind of manners are those?" The raid had been
sloppy and haphazard, as usual with Servitors of Hardcore, but with
innocent children nearby, it would have been dangerous to go celestial
and counter-attack. The angels had been forced to fight corporeally until
they could take it outside to the street. By that time, Leslie's Vessel
was noticably thrashed and the others had assorted injuries, including
the child that Tothiel had hurriedly possessed. Fortunately, he possessed
the Song of Healing and was able to repair the little boy's cut lip and
bruised ribs before slipping from his body at the door and manifesting
himself celestially. Already around him, Cadria was in her celestial
form, a shadowy-winged Malakite that made even the Servitors of Hardcore
fall back momentarily. Even though she served the Word of Protection,
that did not make her any less of a danger to them. Soon they were all in
celestial form: Cadria, Malakite of Protection. Tressazar, Ofanite of
Dreams. Questor, Seraph of the Sword. Nesrin, Mercurian Master of
Flowers. Grayitsa, Mercurian Vassal of Stone. Ithin, Cherub of
Revelation. Lestrienne, Cherub of Children. Gidriel, Seraph of Destiny.
Tothiel, Kyriotate Friend of Creation in service to Children. That's when
the battle had begun in earnest.
Tothiel shook the head of the sparrow he was now occupying. It had been
bad. They had been up against a ragtag bunch of mixed Djinn and Calabim,
led by a Habbalah, twelve in all. The fighting had been fierce, and the
confused children had huddled in their beds as the fight had raged
outside. Tothiel had been busy with one of the Djinn when he heard the
wailing cry. A Calabite, his torn wings fluttering, ripped up the street
with his entropic aura, knocking the gigantic winged wolf that was Ithin
off his feet just long enough for a Djinn to sink the insectoid pinchers
of its' leonine face into Ithin's throat. Ithin's scream had halted the
celestials momentarily, then when his soul-killed corpse had fallen to
the dirty pavement, the angels had fought with redoubled fury. Tothiel
had slew the Djinn before him, and Questor had soul-killed the Calabite
who had killed Ithin. Tressazar had soul-killed the Habbalah and, after
his efforts at diplomancy failed, Nesrin accounted for two soul-killed
Djinn. The remaining demons had gone corporeal fast, earning them a
return trip to Hell in Trauma, though not soul-death. Tressazar had taken
Ithin's body through the Tether at the shelter and back to Heaven, where
Litheroy sadly returned Ithin to the Symphony with full honors. In the
meantime, there had been much explaining to do to the children. Tothiel
had not relished that task.
Now as Tothiel approached Market Street in the body of a little girl,
another pigeon, and a cat simutaneously, he reflected on what he would
tell the other angels who worked in San Francisco at this week's meeting.
The exposure and subsequent destruction of that Tether of Lust last week
had been most fortitous indeed. This week he had only sad news to give.
The death of an angel was never easy to speak of. As he tried to compose
an appropiate phrasing of the event, his little girl eyes noticed
something.
Across the street, over by a tacky clothing store, a tough-looking man
with short, spiky blonde hair, cruel green eyes, and heavily muscled arms
was at work, slugging a homeless man and kicking his begging bowl to one
side. The man was clad in a ragged white t-shirt that had a black outline
of a human hand displaying an obscene gesture with one finger, as well as
blue jeans and tennis shoes. As Tothiel watched, the blonde-haired man
bodily threw the old homeless man right out into the middle of the
street, where a car, unable to stop in time, ran him down. The blonde man
had gone on to another homeless man, who had been pushing a shopping cart
full of soda cans down a street and begun pummeling him without warning
or reason. This was insane! ~I have to stop this!~ He quickly pulled
himself together and jumped into the body of a tall man, a construction
worker at work in the renovation of some store or another. This man was
6'3" with short brown hair, sun-creased brown eyes, and the tough build
of one who does lots of heavy construction work. Tothiel rushed his
borrowed body across the street and slugged the blonde man on the chin,
knocking him down. ~Good thing I'm not a Servitor of Flowers, like
Nesrin. I don't have to talk first.~ Tothiel jumped and pinned the man,
trying to hold him. The blonde man fought like a whole gang though,
quickly breaking free of the construction worker's brawny grip, stunning
the body with a kick to the crotch, then shoving the homeless man into
the street and knocking Tothiel down with the homeless man's cart, kicked
into his stomach. The blonde man smirked and picked up a chunk of broken
cement, approaching the fallen body. Tothiel despaired for a moment, then
quickly possessed a large German Shepard seeing-eye dog and tackled the
blonde man. The stunned assailant turned, looking to the dog, then to
then slowly rising construction worker, then back to the dog keeping him
away. He spit. "A freakin' Kyrio. They told me there was one of you with
those pests at the shelter." Tothiel sang the Song of Healing on his
host, then rose, celestial. The man too, dropped his vessel and emerged.
Tothiel gaped. "You! You're...." The diabolical before him grinned
fiercely. "That's right, man. Furfur, Prince of Hardcore, at your
service." He sketched a bow, then launched his attack.
The battle began in earnest from that point. Furfur launched a vicious
double-fisted blow.....that missed when Tothiel floated above it. A hand
emerged from the cloud to punch Furfur in the teeth, then dissolved. The
Prince's next attack threw Tothiel back, slamming him into the ground.
Tothiel tried to grapple with Furfur, but that was pointless. The Demon
Prince was simply way too strong. Tothiel slid from under him, then,
jabbing lightly to keep him back, thought quickly. There was no way he
was going to be able to defeat Furfur like this. Even if he was a
Malakite of War or of the Sword, this would be like no mere celestial
battle. What he would need is strategy. Then it hit him. "Hey Furfur! You
call yourself a Demon Prince?! Hah! If I were facing Baal or Kronos, or
even Kobal I'd be scared, but you're nothing, you weakling!" As Tothiel
had hoped, Furfur's face flushed with an angry blush. He began swinging
with more passion and less planning, leaving openings that Tothiel
quickly exploited: a kick to the stomach from a foot that emerged without
warning and dissolved, a slug to the face with a rapidly appearing fist,
and so forth. The attacks stung and irritated Furfur further, making him
get even more sloppy as he tried to retaliate.
"Come on! Is this the best you can do?!" Furfur screamed, a rippling
howl that shook the Symphony as he sang the Song of Thunder. The
Symphonic thunderclap blasted Tothiel back, throwing him into the street.
Good thing he was celestial, or he would have been run down by the police
cars arriving to investigate the corporeal disturbance, unaware of the
battle raging around them. Tothiel sang the Song of Shields at full force
and jumped back into the fray, still reeling from the thunderclap and
noticing that several people, some angels and demons in celestial form,
were approaching the area rapidly. Tothiel shook himself and launched a
flying kick to Furfur's face, missed, and generated a fist from his back,
returning Furfur's earlier favor and punching the Demon Prince in the
groin. He forced a laugh. "And you call yourself Hardcore! Please.
The kids at the shelter are more hardcore than you, you miserable
failure." Furfur screamed, looking as if he would explode. He lunged,
caught Tothiel's foot in his stomach, then a double-fisted blow to the
face. A mouth emerged in Tothiel's cloud and laughed at him, then spit on
him. Furfur dealt Tothiel a ringing blow with a fist, got judo-thrown for
his trouble, then the two wove their Songs...
Cadria gasped as she saw Tothiel taking on Furfur. The Symphonic noise
had echoed through the city, drawing every angel and demon for miles
around. No one knew what they could do that would stop or change the
battle one way or another. Some demons, Servitors of the War from the
looks of it, tried to jump in but Furfur waved them off angrily. He
wanted Tothiel for himself. Tothiel appeared to want to finish things
himself as well. Questor and Tressazar looked at her and she shook her
head helplessly. All anyone could do was watch as the Symphonic
disturbance built higher and higher, rippling and pulsing, blocking the
two contestants from view.
Inside the rippling barrier made by their Songs, Tothiel and Furfur were
still at it. Almost an hour had passed from the beginning of the fight in
corporeal form and the strain was beginning to show. Tothiel pulsed more
slowly, his cloud ragged in places. Furfur's celestial form was littered
with bruises, his ribcage smashed in, and his face torn by the nails on
one of Tothiel's hands. Furfur spat out a tooth and grinned nastily.
"Sure ya ain't one of my Shedim in disguise?" He got clipped in the face
for that. Snarling and lunging, Furfur tried to close, but Tothiel
slipped around him. Before Furfur could turn back, he felt a pair of iron
grips settle around his throat. Tothiel felt the demon's thrashing and
struggling beneath him, and squeezed...
The Symphonic jangling gradually faded, enabling the gathered
celestials, angels and demons alike, to see a sight which spread shock
amongst them all. There, on the slate-gray pavement of Market Street, lay
Furfur, the Demon Prince of Hardcore. He was soul-dead, his throat
throttled by the hands that were now dissolving. Above him floated
Tothiel, Kyriotate Friend of Creation in service to Children, damaged and
winded, but still alive. Everyone gaped for a few long moments. Then an
Impudite of Dark Humor began to chuckle. "Isn't that ironic? Big, bad
Furfur getting his from a little Kyrio." As if the words were the key to
a spell, everyone started speaking and moving at once. As Tothiel
tottered, a shadowy-winged Malakite ran over and bowed quickly. "I am
Listien of the Sword. Please come quickly, there isn't much time." He
began to draw Tothiel away, being backed by a pair of Mercurians and an
Elohite. Cadria shouted, but she wasn't heard over the general noise as
the demons began to haul Furfur's corpse away. Questor tapped her with
his wing-tip. "It's okay. They serve the Sword. They'll get him somewhere
safe. We'd best look to our own defense." Indeed, a Calabite of
Nightmares was approaching, a fierce gleam in his eyes. Questor soul-slew
him with relative ease as the fight began to escalate, all unseen to the
mortals who were removing the dead homeless from Furfur's vicious
attack.
Tothiel was quickly spirited away to a nearby shopping mall. Listien
frowned, noting that the Kyriotate he was leading was severely drained of
Essence and there was no telling when the pursuit would begin. The
Malakite looked at Tothiel concernedly and said "Who do you serve?"
Tothiel, his voice a little distant with weakness. "Creation, but....but
I am in the service of Children until Eli should return." Listien nodded,
handing Tothiel over to the two Mercurians as he led the way past several
clothes stores to a swinging door, through it as the expected noise of
pursuit began several floors below them, and then up a metal staircase.
They entered a security office empty of mortals in celestial form and
Listien turned to a red-scaled Seraph floating nearby. "Resteio of
Protection, in the name of the Sword, Creation, and Children, I ask
permission to use your Tether to transport this wounded Kyriotate to
Heaven." Resteio bobbed. "Of course, this way." Resteio gestured with a
feathery white wing towards a smaller office, with the name of his vessel
on it. Inside the office, the group saw the shining white beam of the
Tether of Protection, insubstanial to non-celestials, and stepped into
it. There was the usual moment of disorientation, the sound of the
Symphony in all its' ineffable beauty and majesty, then the small group
stood in an alcove of the Citadel of Protection in Heaven. Listien
snapped off an order and the Elohite went running. Tothiel fainted at
this point, or did the best Kyriotate approximation of same, catching
only scattered impressions of the next few moments. He heard the sound of
many feet running, and voices talking, but nothing coherent. The world
went away.
{{Christopher's House-Heaven-four days ago}}
Tothiel had come to at Christopher's House, tended to by a kindly
Kyriotate he recognized from her distinctive tag: a snatch of an old
song. Her name was Legionnaire. She smiled down at him from several
mouths. "Hi Tothiel. I'm glad you're awake again." Her tone was warm and
gentle. Tothiel formed a smiling mouth in reply. He was lying atop a
large, multi-colored block filled with feathers. As he formed a few eyes,
he could see some small child-souls playing a quite game of jacks nearby,
looking back at him every once in a while to make sure they weren't
making too much noise. Tothiel turned to Legionnaire. "How long have I
been out." Legionnaire smiled, from eyes and mouths. "About two hours.
Christopher wants to talk to you, when you're ready." Tothiel nodded as
best he could, and Legionnaire patted him with a hand before floating
off.
A few minutes later, Tothiel found himself looking at the glowing form
of the large, winged brown bear that was his Superior since Eli's
inexplicable depature. Christopher was giving him a concerned look. "Are
you all right, Tothiel?" Tothiel nodded. "Yes sir. I feel a little better
now that I've rested." Christopher smiled and gave him some fruit juice
and a cookie. "I've been told that you did a very brave thing today,
little one." Tothiel would have blushed if he could have. "Well sir, I
just did what seemed best at the time." Christopher smiled. "Well, still,
you will need to speak with the Archangels. They are all very interested
in your actions today. Do you feel ready to go?" Tothiel nodded as best
he could. "Yes, sir."
{{Six hours later}}
Tothiel sat playing patty-cake with Tina, the soul of an infant killed
in a tragic drive-by gang shooting three months ago. It had taken him two
hours to go around and speak to all the Archangels. Christopher had heard
his report first, then had taken him to all the other Archangels. It had
been hard to tell what they were thinking, well, with most of them
anyways. Zadkiel and Novalis had been openly warm and supportive and
concerned as to his welfare. Christopher, of course, was delighted. Jordi
seemed vaguely appreciative, though he deemed it more a matter for humans
than animals. Dominic cracked a smile once during the retelling, at the
downfall of Furfur, but otherwise remained neutral. Laurence commended
the action as a major step forward in the battle against the hated Foe
and seemed openly pleased with the news and with Tothiel, stating that it
was a shame that Tothiel did not serve the Sword. Michael expressed
similar comments, saying that Tothiel's actions had proven Michael's
ancient contention that a lone champion could accomplish much. Khalid
smiled grimly, but said nothing other than a quiet congratulations. Yves
only commented that Tothiel seemed to approaching his Destiny, whatever
that meant. Jean wanted exact measurements of the Symphonic force and
physical effort required to kill a Demon Prince. Blandine was distracted
as always, though polite, while David was openly laughing and grinning at
the tale. Litheroy seemed interested, while Gabriel plain frightened
Tothiel. Sophia seemed oddly detached. Marc kept going on about how
estimates would have to be revised and whole new flow charts drawn up to
compensate for Furfur's death, while Janus, their last stop, chortled
gleefully and proclaimed that this would really shake things up in
Hell.
It was with relief that Tothiel had returned to Christopher's House,
albeit alone. Christopher had stayed with Janus. He had settled down into
play with the children for the last four hours, thinking back on that
terrible fight and what the implications of it might be. Eventually, a
jump-rope contest drew him away from his gloomy thoughts. He was going
for jump number thirty when Asaria entered and he tripped, losing the
contest to the seven-year-old child-soul Kevin. Asaria giggled. Asaria
was a rarity in Heaven, a Bright Lilim. One of Novalis's servitors had
found Asaria when she had been a Lilim of the Game and had managed to
Redeem her, so now she served Heaven, in particular, Christopher. Now she
smiled, her black curls bouncing. In a sweet voice, she said "I have some
messages for you Tothiel. One is from Listien, a Malakite of the Sword.
He said that you shouldn't worry about those demons pursuing you. After
you returned to Heaven, he dispatched an Elohite, who warned Zadkiel
about the danger facing her Tether. She dispatched a squad to the Tether,
and they killed off the demons. I also have a message from one Tressazar,
Ofanite of Dreams. She said to tell you that your friends are all doing
well at the shelter. Questor managed to soul-kill a Calabite of
Nightmares and a Balseraph of Secrets, a Baron of the Vault. Oh yes, the
Seraphim Council requests your immediate presence at the Council Spires.
That's it." She smiled at the startled reaction on Tothiel's many eyes,
then she giggled and went to play in the jump-rope contest while Tothiel
floated off.
With thanks to Jef Nichols for the use of his character Sophia, Archangel of Love.
Back to the INC Mainpage.
Back to the Resources page.
EDG <[email protected]>
In Nomine Collection Curator