[SpectreofEschaton]

This will probably have a place in my novel, somewhere, if I ever get that far. I haven't posted anything in a while, so figured I could share this.

These are the thoughts of an inestimably-ancient demon-lord whose had his god killed on him, his race hunted to the brink of extinction by angels (who subsequently went on to destroy themselves in civil war), and has been helpless but to watch his children fall farther and farther from "grace" with each passing generation. Oh, and he's been bleeding out in soul-harrowing agony for the last dozen millennia or so, abandoned and left to die by his closest companion. So...generally not a happy person.

This is supposed to take place as our intrepid heroes enter into his sanctum, armed to the teeth with consecrated weapons and prepared to face the most dangerous demonic threat left in the world...only to find the broken shell of something once great and noble. (and if misguided, then who isn't?)

Anyway, here is what he telepathically imparts to them.

Quote

At last.

A thousand-thousand dawns have died, yet now I fear it comes to soon.

You have no conception of what it is to be...hunted. Ask a mortal, “what becomes of angels?” By this, you may measure our fall.

It was not enough to maim. To ravage that which was most precious. I have bled for eternity. I have...striven, and failed. But I have not suffered enough.

The crown is broken, the throne sits abandoned. The scepter was stolen long ago. They took from us our father and accursed us with children. Condemned us to watch and to wither.

Is it not ironic that we were the first to drink of the abyss? Afflicted with light, we were given no choice.

I weep - I must - through shriveled eyes. I grieve the bane of peace. They reft us of the very flame within our hearts, destroyed us with their own defeat.

What could possibly remain?

Authority without arms to reach. Sight that deceives. Breath, never to return.

I may be the last of my kind.

Loss has shaped demise until both have been forgotten, a fate we willingly embraced.

But I have been made to love.

And now I must die.

[Ain't_It_Just_]

It's great! Feels very SE. And it really confirms the whole "this one you thought evil is just a broken shell" concept. Thumbs up.

[SpectreofEschaton]

Ain, on 31 July 2010 - 11:15 AM, said:

It's great! Feels very SE. And it really confirms the whole "this one you thought evil is just a broken shell" concept. Thumbs up.

Why, thank you.

[Fist Gamet]

It is certainly tragic and I get a real sense of disconnect with what one assumes to be the mortal world. These thoughts are poetic and I can suspend disbelief and attribute them to an ancient being, for it would be a very rare individual to use that kind of language in a thought, don't you think?
I would say, if you don't mind, that it is a bit tricky to read and I had to read carefully to appreciate it fully. I suspect this is in part due to the enormous amount of time and care you (self confessed ) take in your writing.
The overall impression I had is that he welcomes death.

[SpectreofEschaton]

Fist Gamet, on 31 July 2010 - 01:55 PM, said:

It is certainly tragic and I get a real sense of disconnect with what one assumes to be the mortal world. These thoughts are poetic and I can suspend disbelief and attribute them to an ancient being, for it would be a very rare individual to use that kind of language in a thought, don't you think?
I would say, if you don't mind, that it is a bit tricky to read and I had to read carefully to appreciate it fully. I suspect this is in part due to the enormous amount of time and care you (self confessed ) take in your writing.
The overall impression I had is that he welcomes death.

I do think so, in that these are thoughts he has been harboring for an almost immeasurably long time, with no one to voice them to until this point, lying tortured in both body and spirit, slowly dying but still very much alive. He's...seen everything of life, and with his fading years has come to the realization that the only thing left to do is to die. He's been a son who watched his father die, a soldier thrust into war with no hope of victory, a father himself, watching his own children go astray, and now the very last of his kind, departing a world that has forgotten him.

Thank you for reading and commenting. I see what you mean, and it's a difficult line to walk. I think, if I ever get to the point in my book where I can insert this, that having the far more human main characters to reflect this off of will help put it into perspective. I think what I want them to take from this, is that...even with ages to ponder these things, turning the mysteries of life again and again within his ancient mind, that this thing still doesn't really have an answer.

In listing his love last, he makes it the last of all tragedies, not that it's failure has broken him, but that he ever allowed himself to indulge in it, knowing that it would come to this in the end. He could live without a lord to serve, an enemy to fight, or even a people to call his own. It's to live knowing that his own children have forgotten him that he cannot bear. He loves them still, and the only answer to that love now is to die. It has outlived its own life.

Anyway, it's a difficult piece on its own. In context, I hope that it will come off to the reader as more than lofty ramblings. Of course, that would necessitate actually getting to that part in the book (I write chronologically most of the time) and...actually pulling it off, which I'm always doubtful about. But, we shall see.