Fallen Angel

Ourania cast her snow-white radiance upon the young priest who sat,
pensively upon a small wooden bench in the serene gardens of the
Chrysalis Basilica. He looked up at the beautiful, pure white marble
walls of the temple, and felt very much at odds with this unadulterated
structure that stood so chastely before him.

Seelin slowly got up from his bench, still deep in thought. He gazed
resentfully at the divine structure, committing every detail of it to
memory: the archway, carved so intricately, every inch of it covered in
perfect artesian work, clearly the result of a master at work; columns,
cut painstakingly with perfect, smooth marble; above them, rested
dreamlike, wispy spires, rising high into the sky, beckoning all to join
them in their heavenly flight.

From the gardens, Seelin walked into the northern part of the Basilica
and walked east, peering into the room containing the holy book of the
church. There it lay; the sacred codex rested upon a golden apse so
faultless, it could only have been created by the divine. He turned his
back to the room, as he walked on down the halls. Somewhere from his
right, came Hansel�s congenial laugh, echoing emptily through the long,
bare halls of the basilica. Gritting his teeth, he kept walking towards
the southern entrance.

Seelin knew himself better than any other did � he was a simple man; he
had no intricate details or wispy spires; no master artisan had created
him; there was nothing dreamlike or divine about him, no depth to his
soul�he lived for only one thing � something so at odds with this place,
he felt utterly alien as he walked through the halls. For Seelin lived
only for revenge.

Upon turning eighteen, Seelin had planned to join the Occultists of
Ashtan; however, on the night of his eighteenth birthday, Seelin had a
dream; a dream so vivid, he knew it was not just a dream. It was a
vision.

He had stood alone, upon a dry, bare, wind-swept plain, his dark hair
blowing in the wind. He was wearing a priest�s robe turned the deepest
black imaginable, and was wreathed in an aura of incredible power. In
his vision, no mortal being wielded power such as that which Seelin did.

He woke up the next morning knowing exactly what he had to do.

Oh, how sweet the blood would be, how delightful the humiliation!

Of course, the day after his dream, he had joined the priests instead of
the Occultists. He had now spent the last ten years of his life waiting
patiently in his white priest�s robes for his vision to come true. He
had waited and waited for some sign of what he was to do.

While waiting for his power to realize itself, he had toiled
fanatically, spending every waking minute poring over scrolls on combat,
perfecting his fighting technique, acquiring new skills, and learning
how best to employ them. But he had waited for ten years now, and his
patience was beginning to wear thin. He had worked so diligently and
still he had not been rewarded.

All this work, Seelin had done for a single goal: revenge for what his
father had done to him; revenge for what his father had done to her.
Seelin�s mother.

His father, Arlain, had been a good father to Seelin all of his life �
and had even been a good husband to Seelin�s mother, Lirria. Seelin had
always been closer to Lirria than Arlain, and had loved her as he loved
no other. One day, however, he could love her no more. His father had
come to be enamoured with a pretty young girl who had just joined the
city; she ran circles around him, flirting with him, toying with him,
until finally Arlain divorced Lirria, and married that disgusting
Delosian prostitute, Josie.

He would not only slaughter his father; Josie, too, would die the
slowest, most painful death Seelin could conjure up for her. In fact, he
would not only do these two things � he would do worse than that; he
would humiliate his father�no, not his father�Arlain, publicly, and
destroy his life forever. He would do to him, what he had done to
Seelin.

Arlain had broken Lirria�s heart � she had loved Arlain with such
intensity as very few partners feel for one another. After Arlain�s cool
dismissal of her, her broken heart decided it had nothing more to live
for; on that same day, she took Arlain�s most prized rapier, and with
it, stabbed herself in her already wounded heart. Where her sword
pierced her chest, no blood leaked from her body; for her heart had
already bled every last drop it could.

Seelin snapped out of his reverie, realizing he had already left the
basilica, and was walking with angrily towards the Northern Gates of
Shallam with a strong sense of purpose within him; though what that
purpose was, he knew not.

He walked first along the Zaphar promenade for a short while, walking
alongside the slow-flowing Pachacacha, which sparkled beautifully in the
sunlight. He then reached the Western portion of Fish Street; to his
left, small fishing boats lay out in a haphazard pattern, pulling in the
plentiful fish of the river. Young women sat together by the river,
washing their clothes, while their children swam about in the waters,
playing happily.

Was there not a single thing in this despicable city that did not
contrast with Seelin so perfectly? The people he walked by gave him a
wide berth, as his fiery eyes dared anyone to meet them. He glanced at a
child playing on the street, who fled in fright as the priest passed him
by.

As Seelin reached the beginning of the Fish Markets, the number of
people on the streets grew, until finally he was in the thick of the
bustling fish market. The stink of rotting fish filled the air; Seelin
kept on walking through the sea of people, and finally reached the end
of the markets. He walked along Zanzibaar Street for a time, passing
shops to his left and right, with vendors calling out to all passers-by.
Finally, he reached the monumental marble and iron gates of Northern
Shallam, where Pericles greeted Seelin jovially with a grin.

Suddenly, something happened to Seelin. A loud ringing in his ears,
black in his vision; he smelt burning, tasted ash, felt nothing � all
his senses were numbed, as he was enveloped in the presence of the
divine.

An incredibly powerful voice boomed through his head: �Seelin!�

Seelin was at a loss for words; he tried to stammer out a plea for
mercy, but was not able. The god spoke again, an ominous laugh
accompanying the words.

�Thou shalt travel to the Dungeons of Azdun, where after consid�rable
peril, thou shoulst happen upon a cave; enter, child, for thy destiny
awaits thee.�

Everything abruptly returned back to normal as he regained control of
his body. Pericles and others around him were looking at him
concernedly, but before anyone could speak, Seelin turned and left
Shallam at a brisk pace.

�Travel to the Dungeons of Azdun�

Seelin�s mind still reeled with the impact of such power; all thoughts
and memories were blasted out of his head. All he could remember was one
thing. Only one thing was important:

�Travel to the Dungeons of Azdun�

Seelin pulled out a map from his pack, and finally located Azdun upon
it. It would be a long, arduous walk. Seelin already had some salted
pork in his pack, and he would be going along the Pachacacha most of
way, so he would be fine for food and water. Without a backwards glance,
Seelin started the trek.

He followed the road through the gently rolling hills until he was
nearing the Pachacacha. At this point, he left the road, and walked in a
North-westerly direction until he reached the river.

The walk to Azdun would be easiest following the Pachacacha, and so,
muttering a prayer to the gods, Seelin parted the waters before him with
his devotion.

Seelin walked along the river, keeping the waters constantly parted for
him. Still, Seelin could not think clearly. He tried to remember why he
was going to Azdun, but could not. Where was he going? He could barely
even remember that, as his feet took him along the riverbed.

People enjoying the bright warm day, fishing on the banks of the river
cried out in alarm as the priest parted the waters before him; for
Seelin needed only a foot or two of water parted for him, but in his
hazed state of mind, he parted the entire width of the Pachacacha. Fish
thrashed about wildly on the riverbed; one fisherman shouted in anger as
he lost his catch to the parted waters. Seelin did not notice any of
this, as he kept up his steady pace to the northwest.

As Seelin continued on walking, his mind began to clear somewhat. He
recalled his vision�and what was happening to him now. There was a
connection! Only a god could grant him power like that he had in the
dream � what could that voice have been but a god? Excitement rose in
Seelin as he picked up his pace.

Finally, the river started to curve into a more westerly route. Seelin
found he was walking into the now setting sun�had that much time passed?
It was morning when he had left Shallam! Seelin studied his map, and
with shock, realized he was nearing Azdun. Where had the day gone � he
remembered nothing of the journey along the river.

Seelin glanced at his map yet again, and saw he was just northeast of
Azdun. He scrambled up the riverbank, and started the final stretch of
his journey.

Seelin was now in the lush Dakhota hills. His view of his surroundings
was greatly compromised by the hills all around him and the tall, thick
forest of pine trees, but somehow, Seelin managed to navigate his way
through the dense forest, until finally he came upon a sudden clearing
to the south.

A glorious castle once stood in this clearing. Now, overgrown ruins lay
before him, with one or two walls still standing here or there, but most
of it now lay on the ground as rubble. Seelin wondered what had happened
to the castle to destroy it so. Perhaps the answers could be discovered
in the depths of the dungeon below.

Seelin was beginning to feel hungry, so he sat on the grass and ate a
good bit of the meat in his pack. Feeling thirsty after the salty
repast, Seelin walked over to the well to get some water, but found it
empty of all water. Seelin started as glowing runes appeared on the
stone edges of the well.

�Below, lies the dungeon of Azdun.� Slowly the runes faded. Where did he
know that language from? Seelin could not remember ever learning such a
tongue � but know it he did. Shrugging his unimportant thoughts away, he
concentrated on what he was to do. So, from what the runes said, the
Azdun dungeons lay below. Confidently, Seelin swung his legs over the
edge of the well. It was a long way down. He placed his right foot on an
iron rung planted firmly into the edges of the well. His left foot
followed, onto the rung below. Steadily he kept climbing down, until
finally his feet touched solid stone below him. He was now in the
dominion of Lachesis � the Spider Queen.

Looking far above him, a tiny dot of light was visible from the top of
the well. The dungeon was illuminated by a soft, eerie green glow; it
didn�t do too much in the way of providing light � but it did at least
light up the surroundings a little bit. As his eyes adjusted to the
darkened dungeon, he suddenly realized what it was that littered the
ground around where he stood. Rotting skeletons of people come to
explore lay here, having fallen while trying to climb up and down the
immense well.

It was cold and musty. Seelin rubbed his hands together, and set off on
his exploration of the dungeon.

Seelin walked along the long, narrow halls of the dungeon, smelling the
stagnant water that pooled on the ground � the constant drip, drip, drip
of water followed him constantly. Along the smooth stone walls, images
depicting dragons in flight scrawled along the walls.

The narrow passage he was walking along abruptly widened into a large,
well lit room. The light in the room was silver, and was emitted from a
floating silver orb in the middle of the room. He would not be so
foolish as to touch it � he looked with disdain at the corpses that
surrounded the orb. Obsidian stones made up the ceiling, floors, and
walls of this room, with passages leading back to the North, the West,
the East, and the South. Ominous runes had been etched into the southern
wall. Seelin stood for a moment, using all his knowledge of ancient
tongues to decipher the words. Though these runes, too, were unfamiliar,
they were not of the same language at those he had seen at the top of
the well. �Certain death lies this way�, it read.

Seelin snorted in disgust, and was tempted to start with the Southern
passages, but something beckoned him from the East. He turned to the
east, and a sense of exultation rose within him. He could feel it! After
so many years of waiting, he could sense his destiny was about to be
fulfilled. Without a backwards glance, Seelin started walking on down
the Eastern passage.

The walls to either side of him grew narrow again � here, their uncanny
green light seemed to glow more strongly than before. The temperature
dropped significantly, as he started seeing his breath puff up in front
of him.

After walking for some time in cold silence, the passage again started
to widen. The walls were infested with arachnids, and all other forms of
insects. Seelin needed not wonder where they got their food from.

The walls here were warm to the touch, as the corridor unexpectedly
ended in a small square room which was bare, except for two things: an
orb, hanging in the centre of the room, and two twin mirrors opposite
each other, hovering just off the Northern and Southern walls. The
mirrors were of the purest silver, inset with precious stones which
seemed to create their own light. Had the mirrors not been unmovable,
they would long ago have been stolen, and sold for a king�s ransom. But
these twin mirrors were not the most remarkable objects of the room; for
as Seelin looked in wonder at the orb in the room, he knew he was
looking into his future. Into what he had dreamed of for ten long years.

The orb emanated light of all different colours, changing slowly from
deep blue, to soft purple�Seelin stared in wonder at the orb, marvelling
at its flawless cut, its complete perfection � swirling mist covered the
floor, illuminated creepily by the colourful orb.

For the second time, his mind was invaded � though this time it was not
so much words that were planted in his head so much as a feeling. Divine
satisfaction ran through his mind; Seelin knew nothing more.

Arlain, the Shallamese Paladin. One of the mightiest warriors in all of
Sapience; no normal mortal could kill this omni-potent human. His long
brown hair, his sword, his falcon�all his filth would soon be wiped
clean of the world, for with the outstanding power of the vision, Seelin
could undoubtedly destroy Arlain.

Divinity once again wrapped around him � this time the godly form chose
to let Seelin see who she was. Makali � the goddess of destruction,
spoke to Seelin. �This power can be thine. Thou canst fulfil thine
destiny, and enact thine revenge. Know, however, that thou shalt pay the
price for the power, and the price will be no small one. Choose wisely.�
With these cryptic words she left Seelin, sprawled on the cavern floor.

He came to � everything was just as it was, except for one thing. A
large, bound book lay in the centre of this room. As he looked at it, a
chill ran up his spine. This book was the purest, rawest evil. This was
the choice Makali was giving him. Open, or don�t open the book. Without
a moment�s hesitation, Seelin reached over to the book, opened it to
page one, and started reading.

Inside were runes of occult writing. They told of an occultist�s
experiments on a priest�s angel. Seelin read each page voraciously, and
learned a great deal. Finally, the last three pages of this black box of
evil, told of incantations, spells, prayers, that would pervert a
priest�s angel, and give him incredible power, but at a very high cost.
One�s soul.

Disregarding the warning, Seelin summoned his angel, turned to the first
of the three pages, and started.

Dancing, sketching runes, muttering prayers, mantras, after hours of his
evil work, Seelin had finished. He looked up expectantly at his angel,
but nothing happened.

Suddenly, a change came over the angel�s face. An agonized scream ripped
from his throat, his arms flailed in maddened suffering. Starting at the
top of his angel�s body, black mist enveloped it. Seelin choked on the
fog, but his eyes avidly remained on his angel, endeavouring to see past
the mist. The black mist dissipated slowly, and he could now partially
see in the room.

His �angel� had become a creature of darkness. A purple-black aura
exuded from it; black, stinking air left his mouth with each breath he
took. Its once benevolent, innocent face was now a twisted embodiment of
evil; around where he hovered, the room was darker; below him dripped
black beads of liquid; his skin was wrinkled, insects crawled all over
his body � for he was dead.

�My name is Vorsias. I am yours to command.� Implausible power was in
its perverse words. Just standing near him, Seelin could feel the
unutterable power of�Vorsias.

So that�s what the power was. His own fallen angel.

Seelin looked down at his body � he was dressed in the black robes from
his dream. To fulfil his vision now, he had everything but the place.

�Take me to the Sangre Plains.� Seelin commanded of Vorsias.

Spinning, swirling through tides of pure evil � flying through the plane
of elemental evil, his mind came loose of his body � he snatched at his
awareness, trying desperately to stay alive. Abruptly, he was thrown
down onto the plains below him. He was in the plains; the place where
his destiny would come to be.

Vorsias floated beside him, waiting for any order his master might have
for him. Vorsias spent some time investigating his angel, and his new
found power. Seelin was not disappointed � the things he was capable of
doing was incredible. Since Seelin had arrived here, three skeletons
walked the plains, a giant crater had appeared, all signs of vegetation
had been burned away, and all life destroyed. This was the power he
held. He was ready.

He summoned Arlain and Josie. They came hurtling through the air � Josie
was of no power at all, but even Arlain could do nothing to stop this
summoning. Seelin let them slam to the ground, rolling along for a few
feet before they stopped.

Arlain drew his sword, muttering prayers to the gods, preparing for the
fight. Arlain charged him, swinging his huge bastard-sword high above
his head. Seelin stood passively, watching with amusement. Arlain
reached Seelin, feinted to the right, and swing low at his stomach.
Seelin thrust his right hand out to touch the sword. As his hand touched
it, a shockwave rippled out from under his feet. Arlain was flung a
stone�s throw backwards. A falcon appeared in the air, diving towards
him. Again, Seelin did nothing � as the falcon neared him, Vorsias
raised his hand to the falcon, and incinerated the falcon. Not even its
ashes remained.

�Arlain. This is what you have done to me. Get ready now, to pay for all
you have done.� Seelin spoke through his teeth, his impatient rage
begging to loose itself.

�You soulless bastard,� Arlain shouted vehemently past the blood in his
mouth

Seelin smiled at Arlain. He lay where he had hit the ground, collapsed �
so pitifully weak. Next to him, Josie cowered on the ground beside him.
Seelin snorted his contempt � now the punishment would begin.

Soulless�perhaps he would start there. At Seelin�s command, Vorsias
enveloped Arlain and Josie, leeching out their souls. They cried out
together in tortured screams. Smiling widely, Seelin realized he hadn�t
ever felt pleasure like this before. They were now nothing but soulless
monsters, capable only of feeling pain

�You two love each other so well, don�t you? Now you�ll spend all
eternity together in suffering!� With these words, he fused the two of
them together. In a grotesque parody of tenderness, the two gripped each
other, their mouths connected. This is how they would stay perpetually.
Seelin nodded, pleased with himself; just one las

Penned by my hand on the 15th of Glacian, in the year 383 AF.