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Saint Tuesday
Book One: Simulacrum
What if the eyes deceive. What if the ears hear not. What if the hand does not feel and lies with every touch. These are the weights upon my mind and even then my mind may lie to me as well. Might my entire existence be a sweet nothing. I do not know and in this lack of knowledge I feel fear for the very first time. I was once the infinite universe and now I am stuck in a singular vessel small weak and insignificant, so I cry. I am an infant like so many other lives taken from the cycle of eternity to live a paltry mortal existence. This is my burden and my task. Book of Achilides Chapter 1
Slowly the book was closed as the armored figure arose from their meditation. Fasting for a week prior to this engagement had taken its toll, but the universe provides its strength and with that the warrior would find what they required. A singular spoon of water to wet the tongue and whet the senses. Deliberately the helmet rose off the warriors head as they looked without the lens of protection upon the work they had performed. To anyone else the spattered red upon the walls would denote a horror unworthy of the ideals of life and love, but this one saw past the illusion of mortality and knew their deeds were just. Seeing the dead they saw only the illusion of life and will fading from unworthy bodies as their soul found new purpose. Already they became more use to the universe than ever before as their corpse fed scavengers and allowed for new life in turn.
Moving past the fallen to the task at hand the warrior looked upon a pool of crimson and saw the face of deception. Oftentimes one would be reminded of the form they were given, but in every reminder their was the poison of deceit. This was not the face of the universe only a facet so small a grain of sand held more weight. Moving past the shimmering pool leaking from a still breathing body the believer held tight to their book and the truth it held, the only truth she had ever known. Life held a significance undoubtedly, but at the cost of all knowledge this farce continued. Some even held the notion that they were created in the image of the creator, but to that the saint would say. Looks can be deceiving.
As her mind continued to wander the disciple kept her head straight and her eyes ahead. Reality was a lie, but for the time it was a lie held in tandem by her foes and thus one that had to be respected. More men rushed from the corners of the ship shouting curses and orders. All babbles and badinage silenced by the blaze of fire from the silent killers guns. Slowly the woman made her way towards the cockpit to take control of the uncontrollable. To navigate the universe in this paltry form was like a minnow navigating the vast ocean but in that case and this one some form of guidance came forth. As the ship turned and the hyperdrive began to warm up the young woman moved towards the escape pod. Nestled in its cocoon she freed herself from one shell by accepting another and as the ship shot away towards a nearby star her mind and body drifted alike.
Four days she drifted, sustained by water and fire, until at last came a scavenger ship who accepted the curious cargo on board. Once released the woman was given her guns and gave thanks, not to those who rescued her but to the guided chaos of the universe and its truly peculiar ways. As she wandered once more awaiting the gentle nudge of destiny, she readied herself to once again perform her mandated task. As task set down to her parents and those before them. A guiding light that seemed to others to be nothing but darkness, but in the end was the most noble of the four paths. She was a destroyer and there was much work left to be done in that regard.
Book Two: The Silence
Four paths on a road lie before me, but in my heart I had already taken them all. What remained for me but to await and guide those who came. For when it seems there is no choice but one, remember the things that never were decided upon. Remember the choice not to decided and it's noble acknowledgement that fear and nothing else has kept all life alive in its continuing stumble into the dark. For the created do struggle, the preservers defend, the destroyers rid, and the creators roam. There is the fifth who awaits and tries to understand the silence through all the noise. Book of Rorn Chapter 7
"Do you see what you have done?" the harsh words returned as the young girl held the piece aloft, its red eyes piercing its clockwork smile menacing the fringes of her imagination. Slowly the understanding accumulated as this horror continued to move its mouth, it was trying to speak but the girl had failed to give it that ability. A smack was felt as the girl fell, tears pooling with her sense of shame. As she attempted to stand the face she held looked upon her, its eyes fixated. All it could do was see. In every way the girl had failed to provide this thing what it needed to be truly alive, but it was alive all the same, the difference being this machination had no purpose and no hope. A foot came down upon the arm which held this pitiful creature and the girl shouted in pain as she released it, the helpless face clattering against the ground. Slowly she gripped her arm as a bruise formed and she felt the burning of a broken arm. Broken. That's what the mask was, yet she knew not how to begin fixing it.
"You now bear the sin of two," came the words of the priest as he began to kick harshly again and again. Across the room she saw the masks eyes began to fade. Reaching out against the holy mans intense barrage she gripped the white face and looked into its eyes as they slowly dimmed and smiled cooing to reassure it. Everything would be okay she attempted to say, and in its final moment the mask looked at peace. Another kick came and then finally stopped as the man lifted the mask from the girls grasped and muttered some words before snapping it in two. "You choose your path long before girl and now you forsake it with this heresy," a small whimper emerged from the girl which could be translated into any number of rants she had performed in her head, speeches rallying against the suffering she was expected to give to all creation. However in the weakness of her body and mind she could not bear to bring on more beatings, so she whimpered and hated herself as she gave into destiny.
"Recite."
She had heard the word so many times before and the words after, her own, almost as many times.
"In the creators light there must be darkness, in life there must be death, in creation there must be destruction. Balance in all things. The four paths reaching out into eternity must be maintained. The weak lack the strength and must be purged, the wicked lack the will and must be slaughtered, the high see too much and must be released, and the old have too much to say and must be silenced. I am a destroyer and a killer. This is my destiny. This is my path."
Silence greeted her proper recitation then slowly the priest walked away leaving her to her training. Slowly she arose feeling a small sliver of the pain she must bring to all creation. Biting her lip she rose from the ashes of her own sin and looked upon the horrible machination she had wrought and killed and knew that now she bore the burden of two. As her mistake weighed upon her deceitful mind the girl collected herself and began to walk down the hall. The same path she had always known.
Book Three: The Callous
As a youth I saw the way and it was good. It gave me food and warmth and love and that was good. Then as I grew I went astray and lost all that was good. Now back on the path I have been given nothing back. Nothing but the promise of the end of the road. I am a sinner and I walk to my death. Book of Arak Chapter 4
Slowly the young woman lifted her hands to her face and noted the cuts she had accumulated. With her eyes closed and her senses controlled she felt not the pain of these marks yet her eyes told her she should be weeping at the harsh destruction of her flesh. What was flesh to the universe, meat that was simply in the process of decay. All things changed as life walked down its path and the young woman was no different. As she finished her penance she began to wrap her torn hands only then feeling the pain of her sacred and necessary actions. Wincing she noted her lack of faith and promised herself greater bodily destruction upon her next sin.
Her current folly was a simple one yet one she fell into time and time again. Looking upon her face in the mirror and believing truly she saw herself in its every facet. Foolishly she believed the flesh was the believer and so she must destroy the part of her which deceived. In this case it was her hands which felt upon her face and confirmed what the mirror had told her. First she thought to gouge her eyes, but this would greatly diminish her effectiveness in the work of the destroyers. As her hands began to stain her bandages a deep red she looked upon them and saw the weakness of her vessel. So brief was the space between breath that life became a state of perpetual peril. Only in accepting the slow death one faced everyday did the young woman begin to accept her doom and embrace it and share it with the unjust, the old, the weak. She once bore the sins of two, now she found the weight of the universe and all its dark horror.
For a moment she thought of the past, but stopped herself before another sin demanded the satisfaction of bodily destruction. All the past was was memory. Memory was the language of the mind and in that language was mistranslation, exaggeration, babble, and lies. To believe the cave drawings of the past was to believe the scribbles of infants to hold any greater significance than the thrashing innocence and ignorance of those who did not yet know their path.
As the woman arose and began to don her armor for the days purge her mind wandered instead to the future, soon to be the past and sooner the present. Time was an illusion as well and if one were to escape that contract which allotted you its worthless currency. Perhaps they could even begin to escape death or at least the fear of its coming. Whenever the day where the universe embraces the truth may come was one that had already occurred and was occurring now and the woman was only a cog in that crushing machine of destruction which brought those who resisted back into the fold. For that she was blessed.
Epilogue: The Blindness
And I knew the weight of the sun and the son each were a continuation of life equal for a brevity until one went out. Book of Rorn Chapter 1
The helmet was heavy. The arms were weighty. The armor was suffocating. This suit was the suit which was born by all those called Saint in the order. It was not a mark of satisfaction of the clergy but simply by potential. Now it was the woman's to bear as at last she heard her name for the first time. A name she shared with the past and all its truth and lies. She was Saint Tuesday. As she knelt before the teachers her eyes looked to the sky to see the stars so beyond her and all those gathered and knew one day she would be tasked with destroying them.
Only in darkness, in silence, unfeeling do we know the nothing we are. I am tasked with this revelation and though my burden is heavy and my failure and death are assured I walk the path. For it is all that I have now.
Relics of the Saint
2 x M-2 Vibroblades
2 x M88A1 14.7x24 Auto
1 x DC-155 High Powered Blaster Sniper Rifle
1 x AR-710 Assault Rifle
1 x Armor of the Saint
3 x Flashbang grenades
5 x Smoke grenades
2 x Subsonic Grenades
1 x Reverse Polarity Pulse grenade
1 x Repulsor Grappling Gun Wrist Launcher
Book One: Simulacrum
What if the eyes deceive. What if the ears hear not. What if the hand does not feel and lies with every touch. These are the weights upon my mind and even then my mind may lie to me as well. Might my entire existence be a sweet nothing. I do not know and in this lack of knowledge I feel fear for the very first time. I was once the infinite universe and now I am stuck in a singular vessel small weak and insignificant, so I cry. I am an infant like so many other lives taken from the cycle of eternity to live a paltry mortal existence. This is my burden and my task. Book of Achilides Chapter 1
Slowly the book was closed as the armored figure arose from their meditation. Fasting for a week prior to this engagement had taken its toll, but the universe provides its strength and with that the warrior would find what they required. A singular spoon of water to wet the tongue and whet the senses. Deliberately the helmet rose off the warriors head as they looked without the lens of protection upon the work they had performed. To anyone else the spattered red upon the walls would denote a horror unworthy of the ideals of life and love, but this one saw past the illusion of mortality and knew their deeds were just. Seeing the dead they saw only the illusion of life and will fading from unworthy bodies as their soul found new purpose. Already they became more use to the universe than ever before as their corpse fed scavengers and allowed for new life in turn.
Moving past the fallen to the task at hand the warrior looked upon a pool of crimson and saw the face of deception. Oftentimes one would be reminded of the form they were given, but in every reminder their was the poison of deceit. This was not the face of the universe only a facet so small a grain of sand held more weight. Moving past the shimmering pool leaking from a still breathing body the believer held tight to their book and the truth it held, the only truth she had ever known. Life held a significance undoubtedly, but at the cost of all knowledge this farce continued. Some even held the notion that they were created in the image of the creator, but to that the saint would say. Looks can be deceiving.
As her mind continued to wander the disciple kept her head straight and her eyes ahead. Reality was a lie, but for the time it was a lie held in tandem by her foes and thus one that had to be respected. More men rushed from the corners of the ship shouting curses and orders. All babbles and badinage silenced by the blaze of fire from the silent killers guns. Slowly the woman made her way towards the cockpit to take control of the uncontrollable. To navigate the universe in this paltry form was like a minnow navigating the vast ocean but in that case and this one some form of guidance came forth. As the ship turned and the hyperdrive began to warm up the young woman moved towards the escape pod. Nestled in its cocoon she freed herself from one shell by accepting another and as the ship shot away towards a nearby star her mind and body drifted alike.
Four days she drifted, sustained by water and fire, until at last came a scavenger ship who accepted the curious cargo on board. Once released the woman was given her guns and gave thanks, not to those who rescued her but to the guided chaos of the universe and its truly peculiar ways. As she wandered once more awaiting the gentle nudge of destiny, she readied herself to once again perform her mandated task. As task set down to her parents and those before them. A guiding light that seemed to others to be nothing but darkness, but in the end was the most noble of the four paths. She was a destroyer and there was much work left to be done in that regard.
Book Two: The Silence
Four paths on a road lie before me, but in my heart I had already taken them all. What remained for me but to await and guide those who came. For when it seems there is no choice but one, remember the things that never were decided upon. Remember the choice not to decided and it's noble acknowledgement that fear and nothing else has kept all life alive in its continuing stumble into the dark. For the created do struggle, the preservers defend, the destroyers rid, and the creators roam. There is the fifth who awaits and tries to understand the silence through all the noise. Book of Rorn Chapter 7
"Do you see what you have done?" the harsh words returned as the young girl held the piece aloft, its red eyes piercing its clockwork smile menacing the fringes of her imagination. Slowly the understanding accumulated as this horror continued to move its mouth, it was trying to speak but the girl had failed to give it that ability. A smack was felt as the girl fell, tears pooling with her sense of shame. As she attempted to stand the face she held looked upon her, its eyes fixated. All it could do was see. In every way the girl had failed to provide this thing what it needed to be truly alive, but it was alive all the same, the difference being this machination had no purpose and no hope. A foot came down upon the arm which held this pitiful creature and the girl shouted in pain as she released it, the helpless face clattering against the ground. Slowly she gripped her arm as a bruise formed and she felt the burning of a broken arm. Broken. That's what the mask was, yet she knew not how to begin fixing it.
"You now bear the sin of two," came the words of the priest as he began to kick harshly again and again. Across the room she saw the masks eyes began to fade. Reaching out against the holy mans intense barrage she gripped the white face and looked into its eyes as they slowly dimmed and smiled cooing to reassure it. Everything would be okay she attempted to say, and in its final moment the mask looked at peace. Another kick came and then finally stopped as the man lifted the mask from the girls grasped and muttered some words before snapping it in two. "You choose your path long before girl and now you forsake it with this heresy," a small whimper emerged from the girl which could be translated into any number of rants she had performed in her head, speeches rallying against the suffering she was expected to give to all creation. However in the weakness of her body and mind she could not bear to bring on more beatings, so she whimpered and hated herself as she gave into destiny.
"Recite."
She had heard the word so many times before and the words after, her own, almost as many times.
"In the creators light there must be darkness, in life there must be death, in creation there must be destruction. Balance in all things. The four paths reaching out into eternity must be maintained. The weak lack the strength and must be purged, the wicked lack the will and must be slaughtered, the high see too much and must be released, and the old have too much to say and must be silenced. I am a destroyer and a killer. This is my destiny. This is my path."
Silence greeted her proper recitation then slowly the priest walked away leaving her to her training. Slowly she arose feeling a small sliver of the pain she must bring to all creation. Biting her lip she rose from the ashes of her own sin and looked upon the horrible machination she had wrought and killed and knew that now she bore the burden of two. As her mistake weighed upon her deceitful mind the girl collected herself and began to walk down the hall. The same path she had always known.
Book Three: The Callous
As a youth I saw the way and it was good. It gave me food and warmth and love and that was good. Then as I grew I went astray and lost all that was good. Now back on the path I have been given nothing back. Nothing but the promise of the end of the road. I am a sinner and I walk to my death. Book of Arak Chapter 4
Slowly the young woman lifted her hands to her face and noted the cuts she had accumulated. With her eyes closed and her senses controlled she felt not the pain of these marks yet her eyes told her she should be weeping at the harsh destruction of her flesh. What was flesh to the universe, meat that was simply in the process of decay. All things changed as life walked down its path and the young woman was no different. As she finished her penance she began to wrap her torn hands only then feeling the pain of her sacred and necessary actions. Wincing she noted her lack of faith and promised herself greater bodily destruction upon her next sin.
Her current folly was a simple one yet one she fell into time and time again. Looking upon her face in the mirror and believing truly she saw herself in its every facet. Foolishly she believed the flesh was the believer and so she must destroy the part of her which deceived. In this case it was her hands which felt upon her face and confirmed what the mirror had told her. First she thought to gouge her eyes, but this would greatly diminish her effectiveness in the work of the destroyers. As her hands began to stain her bandages a deep red she looked upon them and saw the weakness of her vessel. So brief was the space between breath that life became a state of perpetual peril. Only in accepting the slow death one faced everyday did the young woman begin to accept her doom and embrace it and share it with the unjust, the old, the weak. She once bore the sins of two, now she found the weight of the universe and all its dark horror.
For a moment she thought of the past, but stopped herself before another sin demanded the satisfaction of bodily destruction. All the past was was memory. Memory was the language of the mind and in that language was mistranslation, exaggeration, babble, and lies. To believe the cave drawings of the past was to believe the scribbles of infants to hold any greater significance than the thrashing innocence and ignorance of those who did not yet know their path.
As the woman arose and began to don her armor for the days purge her mind wandered instead to the future, soon to be the past and sooner the present. Time was an illusion as well and if one were to escape that contract which allotted you its worthless currency. Perhaps they could even begin to escape death or at least the fear of its coming. Whenever the day where the universe embraces the truth may come was one that had already occurred and was occurring now and the woman was only a cog in that crushing machine of destruction which brought those who resisted back into the fold. For that she was blessed.
Epilogue: The Blindness
And I knew the weight of the sun and the son each were a continuation of life equal for a brevity until one went out. Book of Rorn Chapter 1
The helmet was heavy. The arms were weighty. The armor was suffocating. This suit was the suit which was born by all those called Saint in the order. It was not a mark of satisfaction of the clergy but simply by potential. Now it was the woman's to bear as at last she heard her name for the first time. A name she shared with the past and all its truth and lies. She was Saint Tuesday. As she knelt before the teachers her eyes looked to the sky to see the stars so beyond her and all those gathered and knew one day she would be tasked with destroying them.
Only in darkness, in silence, unfeeling do we know the nothing we are. I am tasked with this revelation and though my burden is heavy and my failure and death are assured I walk the path. For it is all that I have now.
Relics of the Saint
2 x M-2 Vibroblades
2 x M88A1 14.7x24 Auto
1 x DC-155 High Powered Blaster Sniper Rifle
1 x AR-710 Assault Rifle
1 x Armor of the Saint
3 x Flashbang grenades
5 x Smoke grenades
2 x Subsonic Grenades
1 x Reverse Polarity Pulse grenade
1 x Repulsor Grappling Gun Wrist Launcher
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