{"sf1_id":721831,"sf2_id":null,"title":"Rightious. 4","author":"MagnumGit","words":1114,"posted_at":"2014-06-24T06:35:00.000Z","tags":["Fantasy","Sci-Fi","Supernatural"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/721831-rightious-4","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/view/721831","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=721831\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"","content":"Belrakier. The Saintly one.  He saw his mother, he saw her as the cancerous whore she was,\nthe mad bitch who had grew rotten as she fell far from the tree of divinity\ninto the brambles and weeds of damnation. Belrakier and his loyal followers\nstole away the Dread spear; only the hands of Belrakier could lie upon it, for\nhis blood was also that of Ci'e. They fled the damned realm, using magic's long\nsince forgotten, Belrakier fled to the last bastion of the Gods and\nReborn-formally the Lamented.  The warrior prince Belrakier presented the Spear to the\nPantheon and he offered himself to them, begging not for mercy but for death\nfor repentance against his sins, so long as they vanquished his vile mother who\nhe openly cast himself away from. Some were tempted to grant him his wish for\nabsolution in Oblivion, but it was The Maiden of Tears who called for them to\nspare him his life, her voice brokered no argument, for her word was law. She\nwas formerly Mi'e, who had cast away her name as it was sullied by her fallen\nsisters actions. She took up a new mantel and became The Maiden of Tears, the\nAngel of Retribution and Vindication, and her mercy was not given lightly.  She spoke with Belrakier, son of the fallen Goddess, King of\nchampions. She was pleased, and she forgave him for the sin of his birth, for\nthe Demigod yearned for redemption in the eyes of the Pantheon.  Years passed, and Belrakier grew strong under the Pantheons\ntutelage, for they knew that he was to be their Champion, for only he alone\ncould strike down Ci'e, they knew this his destiny. They ascended him, and they\nmade him into a God. Lord Belrakier the Angel of Repentance. In his hands the spear no longer gleamed coldly, but shown\nwith the brilliance of ten-thousand suns, it no longer was an instrument of\noppression, but now of liberation, as the Gods and Reborn made their return to\ntheir old domain.  The domain of Ci'e had grown vast and powerful, though she\nraged at the theft of her prized spear, the spear that struck down the Murder\nKing, who's name now warranted the devouring of the offenders soul, and\nentombment in the forever chamber of flames.  She had grown into a hag, her once majestic and pure image\nand tempting sensual body devolved into something withered and cowed. She was\nhaggard and tired, drained of life, yet denied death by her immortal blood and\nundying soul. The Queen Goddess seemed to shrivel at each passing day,\nfading away until nothing was left. She rarely moved from her crimson throne\nanymore, alone save for rows of immortal Golem Guards unspeaking in their\neternal vigil.  When she did move it was only to cast her gaze out through\nthe grand window to stare numbly out over the endless expanse of raised cathedrals\nand monuments she demanded built of her, the sounds of orgies of lust and\nviolence unending in the streets, mortals killing and raping each other for\ndominance over the others soul, for that was the way of her kingdom, the strong\nbefore the weak.  Her armies met the Pantheon's in battle, but they quailed\nbefore the Might of the Reborn Pantheon. Tantus of the Mighty, The Girl of\nMalice, The Old ones, Knight Goddess Merivan, the now wife Of Tantus, The ancient\nSea King, The Girl of Roses, the Core of Wrath, even The baroness of War; let\nloose by the Mad-God of lust, free to wreak her havoc once more. Countless more\nwith their angles and champions, mortals and demigods, kings and jesters,\nknights and peasants. Even the Soul Carrier even joined their forces, as he was\ndenied the souls of Ci'es Empire.  Many years passed, as her armies fought in her name and\ninvoked her power, and her children were gifted with mighty corrupt souls,\nfueled by the deep void. Belrakier struck each champion of the whore-queen down\nwith his glorious spear, facing each in single combat and besting him or her\nwith righteous fury. It was not long after the final two champions of Ci'e fell\nthat they found themselves at her great castle walls. The final two had fought\nwith the fury of cornered rats facing the inevitable. As Her last two loyal\nchildren cried for her to save them they were slaughtered by Belrakier before\nthey could hear the reply that she would never give them.  The God Champion of the Pantheon made his way into His\nmother's domain. Prepared to fight to the last breath to slay the demented\nbitch-queen. Yet he walked out minutes later, spear free of godly blood\nand his expression puzzled.  He was prepared to stand before her crimson throne; he had readied\nhimself to decry her and declare her reign no more. Yet what met his eyes on\nthe throne was naught but a corpse, a dried, empty shell in tattered rags,\ndusty statues lining the moth eaten carpet to the throne.  The grand doors to the throne room itself had protested\ngreatly to being moved, not because of a barricade, but because of disuse.\nWithin the room itself, there was much debris, rusted metal trinkets that a\nchild might play with scattered across the floor, and broken windows decorated\nthe walls. Various pieces of scripture and literary work littered the floor,\ncracked yellow and flaking.  The Angel sneezed as the odor of age, dust, and decay\nassaulted him, walking fearlessly, albeit uncertainly, up to the throne.\nWithout a word he plunged the spear into the desiccated corpse, and to his\nastonishment, if turned to dust, bones dissolving into powder, and skin\nbreaking like dried leaves.  He had stared for a few moments before reaching down with a\ngauntleted hand to pick up and examine a masterfully crafted metal sculpture\nthat fit snugly into his mailed palm. It was an impossible shape and shimmered\nin the faint light. As if the metal was living, it glistened like gems of dew\non flowers in the early morning after rain. It was beautiful, and put him at\nease.  He slipped the innocent trinket into a bag at his hip, and\nleft the chamber.  The queen had been betrayed, the forces she called upon to\ngift her the Dread-Spear had taken root in her soul, decaying it and syphoning\nher strength, her immortal body began to atrophy, and in her final days she sat\non the throne, afraid and in pain, before the forces of the deep claimed her\nforever as their slave.  Such was the story told. And such was the lie that spread. The truth was far more complicated."}