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NaNoWriMo post!
No updated word count yet, but I feel moved to post an excerpt.
The clouds in the sky roiled and twisted, reflecting the red and orange glow of fires still burning in the little town below. They were laced with crimson and purple lightning. Beneath this sky, the earth was pelted by ice-cold rain and by hailstones. Dark, nightmarish creatures had come, slithering, stalking and crawling on the face of the earth for the first time in centuries. They reveled in their new freedom, stretching their limbs, shuddering their hides, and in some instances, unfurling their terrible wings. In a field outside of town, a single man had made a throne out of the basalt of the Cascade mountains, and it stood black and shining with the damp. His well-muscled frame was clothed in wool and linen, and protected by armor laced together from stiff hide and beaten bronze. The wild winds whipped his black hair into a pennant, and as he lounged there in his throne, his vibrant green eyes shone with anticipation. He knew himself to be beautiful and strong. He himself had sculpted his form, from the raven-black hair to the high cheekbones and sensual lips, all the way down to his strong elegant feet. As such, he felt only a slight pang of regret about losing his hold over the one called Rachel. He had been bested by a human frailty, that thing they called love. It wasn't, of course... none of these mortals had any idea what the word love really meant, had no clue of the power of divine love. Abaddon did, and had given it up in favor of strength, power, freedom. He contemplated the four standing below his throne, and thought that golden Samael had had it right after all when he had succumbed to the charms of mortal women. He had taken Lilith when her strong spirit and quick wit had proved too much for Adam, the first man, and had given her power undreamed of by humans, had made her a legend that haunted the dreams of Hebrew parents. And here had been another such as her, darkly beautiful, brilliantly intelligent, sharp of mind and independent. No matter... the loss was inconsequential in the face of what would happen here tonight.
The creatures of darkness gathered here before this black throne, laughing and bellowing and screeching in some infernal tongue forgotten since the time of Eden. The dead of the human world gathered here, as well, souls within the corpses steeped in sin untempered by regret. They shambled forth to do the bidding of the only master they now knew. They were slowly organized into twenty seperate groups of at least a hundred each; the armies of hell, each led by one of twenty tall, dark figures that seemed made of shadows. In these ranks, the human dead became enslaved by the residents of hell; denied heaven and abandonned by God, they were hopeless creatures, slumping mindlessly wherever they were told to stand. They were the grunts in what was both a very new and a very old style of warfare.
It was just a tiny movement, just a hint of a writhing motion glistening in the firelight. All was silent except for the sound of the rain and the flames and the earth, and it seemed that all the gathered hosts of hell held their collective breaths. Then there was a brittle clattering sound, small rocks shifting and tumbling.
And then the huge reptilian head burst free from the trench, flung upwards on a long, powerful neck. A clawed hand planted itself on the edge of the trench, each claw as tall as a man and shining with a slick dark sheen. The claws dug into the earth and pushed forth the massive body, ripling with muscle. The sinuous tail lashed forth, forked at the end, and covered for all it's length with spines the length of a grown man's arms. The black scales that covered the Beast from snout to tail were oily black and leaf-shaped, making each movement glitter dangerously. The huge leathery wings snapped open, and Abaddon felt the pressure of the air change around him. A hind leg lifted from the trench and heaved the rest of the massive body up out of the ground. The massive thing looked around with staring and savage eyes, and it's jaws, filled with teeth that gleamed white in the surrounding darkness, opened and a shriek emerged that threatened to tear the sky in two. Abaddon had to frankly admire his master. While he had created his physcal form with an eye to beauty, The Deciever had constructed his over thousands of years for sheer might and power. He had adopted each demonic aesthetic, from the serpentine neck to the imposing bulk of it's dragon-esque body to the long twisting horns sprouting from it's head, this body was the embodiment of every nightmarish thought that humans had ever had about the damned. The huge black form, limned in a sullen red glow, was the essence of evil and blight.
Now, thought Abaddon, Master of the Abyss. Now!
The clouds in the sky roiled and twisted, reflecting the red and orange glow of fires still burning in the little town below. They were laced with crimson and purple lightning. Beneath this sky, the earth was pelted by ice-cold rain and by hailstones. Dark, nightmarish creatures had come, slithering, stalking and crawling on the face of the earth for the first time in centuries. They reveled in their new freedom, stretching their limbs, shuddering their hides, and in some instances, unfurling their terrible wings. In a field outside of town, a single man had made a throne out of the basalt of the Cascade mountains, and it stood black and shining with the damp. His well-muscled frame was clothed in wool and linen, and protected by armor laced together from stiff hide and beaten bronze. The wild winds whipped his black hair into a pennant, and as he lounged there in his throne, his vibrant green eyes shone with anticipation. He knew himself to be beautiful and strong. He himself had sculpted his form, from the raven-black hair to the high cheekbones and sensual lips, all the way down to his strong elegant feet. As such, he felt only a slight pang of regret about losing his hold over the one called Rachel. He had been bested by a human frailty, that thing they called love. It wasn't, of course... none of these mortals had any idea what the word love really meant, had no clue of the power of divine love. Abaddon did, and had given it up in favor of strength, power, freedom. He contemplated the four standing below his throne, and thought that golden Samael had had it right after all when he had succumbed to the charms of mortal women. He had taken Lilith when her strong spirit and quick wit had proved too much for Adam, the first man, and had given her power undreamed of by humans, had made her a legend that haunted the dreams of Hebrew parents. And here had been another such as her, darkly beautiful, brilliantly intelligent, sharp of mind and independent. No matter... the loss was inconsequential in the face of what would happen here tonight.
The creatures of darkness gathered here before this black throne, laughing and bellowing and screeching in some infernal tongue forgotten since the time of Eden. The dead of the human world gathered here, as well, souls within the corpses steeped in sin untempered by regret. They shambled forth to do the bidding of the only master they now knew. They were slowly organized into twenty seperate groups of at least a hundred each; the armies of hell, each led by one of twenty tall, dark figures that seemed made of shadows. In these ranks, the human dead became enslaved by the residents of hell; denied heaven and abandonned by God, they were hopeless creatures, slumping mindlessly wherever they were told to stand. They were the grunts in what was both a very new and a very old style of warfare.
It was just a tiny movement, just a hint of a writhing motion glistening in the firelight. All was silent except for the sound of the rain and the flames and the earth, and it seemed that all the gathered hosts of hell held their collective breaths. Then there was a brittle clattering sound, small rocks shifting and tumbling.
And then the huge reptilian head burst free from the trench, flung upwards on a long, powerful neck. A clawed hand planted itself on the edge of the trench, each claw as tall as a man and shining with a slick dark sheen. The claws dug into the earth and pushed forth the massive body, ripling with muscle. The sinuous tail lashed forth, forked at the end, and covered for all it's length with spines the length of a grown man's arms. The black scales that covered the Beast from snout to tail were oily black and leaf-shaped, making each movement glitter dangerously. The huge leathery wings snapped open, and Abaddon felt the pressure of the air change around him. A hind leg lifted from the trench and heaved the rest of the massive body up out of the ground. The massive thing looked around with staring and savage eyes, and it's jaws, filled with teeth that gleamed white in the surrounding darkness, opened and a shriek emerged that threatened to tear the sky in two. Abaddon had to frankly admire his master. While he had created his physcal form with an eye to beauty, The Deciever had constructed his over thousands of years for sheer might and power. He had adopted each demonic aesthetic, from the serpentine neck to the imposing bulk of it's dragon-esque body to the long twisting horns sprouting from it's head, this body was the embodiment of every nightmarish thought that humans had ever had about the damned. The huge black form, limned in a sullen red glow, was the essence of evil and blight.
Now, thought Abaddon, Master of the Abyss. Now!