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The Queens Journal.
Antics and journaling's of Queen Goldy
The Sundering.

For your Listening Pleasure
Vindicate me, O Lord. For I have lead a blameless life.
I have trusted to the lord without wavering. Test me. O Lord, and try me, examine my heart and my mind.
Psalm 35:1-2



On high the voices rang out, a choir of Angels singing to the Lord, our Father our God. He had called us forth, each one in turn, the Angels of vengeance. A people so much like those who roamed the earth. Our charges far below cried out in suffering that brought tears of crystal blue to our own eyes. We watched ever vigilant as those we had protected fell to the slaughter. Blood ran in rivers through the land and yet we made no move. The cherubs weeping as there song rang crystal clear through the heavens.

The call had finally come. Our God in his mercy looked upon those earthly beings and with tears in his eyes he sent his favourites, those angels who had served well.

I was amongst them. Never before had I seen the likes of the rife and peril far below. I had heard the story’s as all young do. I am not sure I believed until I saw with my own eyes though. Deaths hand ran rampant through the lands. Whole towns and villages completely demolished. Destroyed. Darkness seemed to hover on the edge of the world, all-consuming in its hatred for the living.

I will remember forever the day of our coming. It was my first time leaving the bonds of Heaven, my home and my Father. Winged to the earth on chariots of blazing fire, hair streaming behind us as the wind whipped at our faces. Sending our clothing and hair to dancing as the fingers of that wing grazed our skin. My brothers and sisters were alight with the prospect of avenging our beloved humans. Fire seemed to dance in the eyes of each of us. A sure conviction that we were right and nothing could stop us. Nothing could come between us and the justice that was due these mortal beings.

My feet touched down on earth for the first time that day. Never had a known the softness of grass against my bare flesh, it tickled my bare feet. The woods we landed in were home to many creatures both big and small and so close we could hear them. The song of the meadow lark and the baying of wolves in the distance, every sound reached our ears in that place. Even now I hear those sounds, soft as a lovers whisper in my ears.

Hundreds of my sisters and brothers filled that small woodland clearing. Each of us different but the same, clad in the armour of warriors we stood. Our eyes seeking each other’s, for reassurance. One sister, her name is lost to the ages, she sang then. Her voice rang like a bell over the sound of the wolves in song, or perhaps joining in. The pure sweet sound of it filled our ears as we stood in rank. Battle ready we stood, fingers deftly touching a weapon hilt here, straightening the silken layers of our dress. Hands reached out to clasp another, as if even then we knew the outcome. Though surely we were filled with such conviction that none could see the falling, not even myself.

We would prevail for that was the way of Justice. Our God would hold us steady against the face of evil and we would push back the multitudes before us. Sunder the evil from this land and give the people back the light. We could not give the dead life, but we could fill the living with hope. We could wash away the stain of evil and in our innocence we thought, nay, we knew that our task would be complete. The will of our Father would be done.
It took us little more than a few days to walk from that place. Our bare feet carried us across the soft earth. I’ll always remember the mud, the sensation of it between my toes as we walked the soft squishing of it, pleasant in its own way.

Birds sang at our coming, heralding us with sweet song as we marched. An endless line of vengeance we marched tirelessly those first days, our feet carrying us with slow assurance through the forest. Guided by our Fathers light.

We found the first town not long after. Ruins, darkness. I could feel the evil as if it was in the very wind. The cobbled streets were spattered with the dark rusted colour of dried blood. The smell of death hung in the air, putrid and stinking. Had we been mortal we likely would have covered our mouths and vomited like so many do at the sight and smell. Heaped along the walls of homes we could see the remains of the townspeople, a limb intact sticking out here and there, though for the most part it was bones. Those bones will haunt me for life, the pure whiteness of them against the darkness of this place. They seemed to glow with an ethereal light as if to say

“I was here.”

The more squeamish of us made a moue of distaste at the sight, but we walked on. Our steps ringing clear through the silence of that first town. That was the first we saw of the destruction, but it would go on for many days, months and years. Even now we marched behind the Demon horde, a step to far behind them. We likely could have caught up to them at any time, but we did not. We chose to go in prudence, to linger back a ways and watch our enemy. For surely it is better to know thin enemy then to walk in blind.

Those first days were filled with an evil kind of darkness. At night when we lay our heads down the softest of crying could be heard. My brothers and sisters crying out to the Lord for mercy, for justice. I wonder still if he heard us, or simply turned a blind eye to our pleas.

It was in those first day’s we came upon the demon. Back turned to us she did not seem to see us marching in the hundreds upon her, or she did but didn’t care. She had pale blue flesh that seemed to swirl just below the surface, as if waves were ever lapping against her skin. Her hair hung in matted strands of silvery grey, curling softly over her bare shoulders and back as she sat hunched over something. As we closed in the muscles of her body seemed to tense, she knew we were here yet she still did not move.
It was then one of our brethren ran forward. Slender fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword. The crouched figure leapt into action at the last possible second. Her body sprang up and twisted around so we saw her face. Lips spattered with blood and gore. In our surprise we missed the glinting steel in the beast’s hand. The soft gurgle of blood filling lungs seemed to ring in the air as our brother fell his body limp as his lifeblood pooled around his fallen form.

Everything seemed to slow then, the demon beast twirled and was upon us. Her guttural words lost in the echo of our own cries. You would think one against hundreds the she beast would have fallen, but she cut through my brothers and sisters with what seemed like no thought. A deft hand on her dagger as it slashed a throat here, jammed into an eye there. Her free hand held a strange weapon that seemed to undulate and hiss, this she snapped above her head before bringing it down to bear on our ranks. The many headed thing bit into flesh, releasing its paralytic toxin into the blood stream. I watched as rank upon rank of ours fell to this single creature. Her spinning writhing form laughed as she cut us down and we stood helpless lambs to the slaughter, bewildered by the sudden ferocious attack.

Her eyes fell on me then and a shudder of revulsion passed through my body. It was as if she looked past my flesh and into my very soul. Rooted to the spot I stood trembling as she closed the gap. Her hand reached out, pale cold fingers brushed my cheek as a smile passed her lips,

“You are the one,” she said with a smile before vanishing.

Her words rang in my ears. What could that mean? I would have liked to puzzle this out but I came back to myself then. My eyes fell over my slaughtered brothers and sisters and tears began to stream down my face. Not a one had even touched the she beast, but of ours fifteen were already going cold, the skin paling to a greyish hue. Five more lay paralyzed eyes flickering back and forth across the expanse of the blue sky. As if willing their own limbs to move. With sorrow we finished the job she had started. Voices softly reassuring ours as we sent them back to our Father.



For your Listening Pleasure

Ages past and we fought on. Battle ready we stood our ground, giving nothing and getting nothing in return. Our innocence was lost in those years. Eyes and body’s hardened in a struggle for life. Time seemed to pass in a blur of nothing with phases of extreme violence. Between marching and burying our dead. They fell like so much carrion expiring to a myriad of wounds. Some went quickly in the battle, others clung to the last shreds of life as blood poured freely from gaping wounds. Our nights were spent in caring for those ones, praying for the lives of our friends even as the life left them.

Battles were fought with endless insistence. We pushed on, bedraggled and forlorn. Forgotten in this land of death and decay. Our numbers dwindled in those days, slowly as we succumbed to sweet death or left in the night, escaping the slaughter only to be stuck down by our Fathers hand just outside of camp. Even this didn’t stop them from trying to escape the horrors. With each new day we found our hope curdling in the pits of our stomachs, prayers dead on our lips.

Still we pressed on, for every foot we gained it seemed ten were lost. Darkness wrapped itself around our very hearts. The injustice we had come to fight seemed to hold the earth in a grip of pure ice. Stagnating as time pushed on. The once beloved sound of the earth’s creatures now only brought a shudder of fear. The baying of wolves often told of enclosing forces.
We had lost track of time, or innocence and love. Our only thought was to finish this task and go home to bask in the light of our Father. It could have been days or maybe even years before the two army’s finally met. Ours but half of its former glory well there’s swelled in ranks.

The sun had just broke above the horizon, casting a pale glow into the sky awash with fiery reds and oranges. This should have told us, but we were desolate only wanting to complete this damnable task. War cry’s filled the air and two became one. Feet churned up the earth as those army’s met, charging one another with guttural cries.

Death came swiftly for many that day. Weapons glittered in the light of the sun, shimmering as they came down to lop off a head or sever a limb. Covered in blood and gore we fought on. Day passed into night and still we pressed against that much greater force. My sisters and brothers fell around me into oblivion. Beneath my feet I could feel the sticky blood of my once living family.

The night sky was lit with magic. Demonic and holy, clashing high above as if to remind the heavens we still fought here. Some of us fought by air, raining down holy fire on the heads of our enemy’s, well rank upon rank died on the ground. The soft moans of the dyeing seemed to fill the night air. Locked in a battle as ageless as the earth itself, we could not lose; we would finish what the Demonic races started.

Watched in an out of body sort of way as my own weapon cut through the ranks. Blazing with holy fire I charged in, each face a mask before me, I felt nothing as my blade slid cold and hungry into that flesh. Hardly stopping to kick a limp form off my sword edge before I turned to the next. We left our own destruction, the demonic forms lay where they fell, for we would not touch them.

By the third day that field was covered in bodies. In the dusk they looked nothing so much as rocks scattered across the land. It stank of decay and corruption. The sun beat down on that field during the day, ripening the fresh corpses. Maggots seemed to be ever present on the malformed twisted shapes and the ground between. It was like we had opened some vast chasm in the world and all the bugs emerged to feast.

That battle lasted for longer then I wish to remember. Day and night ran together, sleep was lost to us. I felt the effects of this constant grappling. My limbs felt heavy, fatigue blurred my vision, slowed my steps.

Why did he not hear our cries?

The sun came that next day, clear as glass, letting us know we still lived as it touched down on our flesh. That was the day she came again. I know it was her, that strange water like swirling of her flesh, naked but for the whip at her hip. That animal like smile passed her lips again as our eye met. My hands clutched for a weapon, falling then upon an old wooden staff. I’d lost my sword at some point; it was hard to say exactly when.

We met then on the field. It was surreal in its own way that second meeting. We had met before, though briefly and I knew what she could do. My own terror must have shown then for she laughed out loud. Her gloved hands closed around the hilt of her dagger.

“You finally made it; I had begun to fear you wouldn't.”

Her words reached me even as she took up a battle stance. It was almost as if she was teasing me, or knew something of the outcome that I could not know. Her violet eyes met my own blue ones and a snarl passed her lips as she leapt into the air. I swung my wooden staff upward at the last second, narrowly slamming her dagger away as she came at me. Her cold flesh touched mine as she slammed into me. We fell then in a tumble of limbs grappling with one another on the muddy earth. I felt sharp nails bite into my flesh as she shrieked in a bestial way.

My own hands found the flesh of her torso and without thought I pressed my palm against this, willing it to burn, and burn it did. The smell of crisp flesh hit me in the face like a slap. The stench of it made my stomach roil and I nearly gagged. Her own shriek seemed to change then, higher pitched as she throttled me. I felt a cold hand slip around my throat; my eyes must have bulged in surprise as I looked at her, for that smile had returned. That look of pure hatred filled my vision as darkness danced on the edges. I reached up with one hand, pushing with what was left of my strength. I clawed at her wrists, my emaciated form writhing beneath her. The grip on my throat was iron tight, clutching, choking the very life from my body. I tried to cry out but the sound came out as little more than a whisper of air as the breath left me. Darkness filled my vision and the sounds of battle seemed to recede.





Trapped

For your Listening Pleasure
My days have passed, my plans are shattered, and so are the desires of my heart. These men turn night into day; in the face of darkness they say, 'light is near'. If the only home I hope for is the grave, if I spread out my bed in darkness, if I say to corruption, 'you are my father,' and to the worms, 'my mother' or 'my sister', where then is my hope? Who can see any hope for me? Will I go down to the gates of death? Will we descend together into the dust?
Job 17:11-16
















Strange Companions
For your Listening Pleasure









Strange Companions
For your Listening Pleasure



The Second Coming of the Demon Forces

Fragile Life


Slipping From These Earthly Bonds

A Vessel For the Soul of an Ancient

The Villain

Second Death..Much Like Second Lunch

Regurgitated Life Blooms

Lusting for Death.


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