"In the Latin Rite of the Catholic Church, The Venerable, is the style used for a person who has been posthumously declared "heroic in virtue" during the investigation and process leading to possible canonization as a saint. Before a person is considered to be venerable, he or she must be declared as such by a proclamation, approved by the Pope, of having lived a life that was heroic in virtue."
Mastering Undeath Part Four: Venerable
"You are fools for not giving in. May the Light punish such sinners for taking the lives of good people. Men, you know what do do. Execute these beasts."
Kezzet and his remaining men stood defensively as the rest of Galma's men gathered together, each readying their blades. He noticed his brothers shaking in shivers, blood and sweat falling to the ground, and falling over the bodies of their dead allies. "Me crew gone to waste... But we gonna avenge them even if it costs us sweet life. Pray to the loas mon, askin' for them to grant us that retribution."
As the sun made its way through the sky, the shadows of the trolls laid together, combining where the four had their backs to each other. From them cane a gate, ripples flowing through, unseen energy within. But none noticed. Nor did they see the silent rising of two shadows in the very center, dark figures standing completely invisible in the black.
Then the cold came around all of the men, an eerie temperature drop. Every man felt a sudden chill, as if there was now something else. And a great stench of death overclouded their senses, too strong to come from the fresh corpses on the ground. No, it was the smell of a long time rotting, the putrid stink of ageless death. The humans hesitated, fear suddenly striking them. The trolls too stood frozen, afraid too look back, to look at the source from where these phenomena occurred.
Galma stood confused, his men making no motion towards the enemy. What puzzled him even more was the sudden blatant fear on their faces, the frightened looks in their eyes. He yelled out over them, angry voice, "What are you doing? Go go! This is your chance, they are but beasts. Destroy them in the name of the Light!" He growled when he saw them still stand frozen. His words did nothing to change the situation. Galma's hand reached for his sword hilt, moving towards them, "Weaklings. I'll do this on my own if I must."
It was then that from within the center of the trolls rose a great stem of shadow, shooting upward towards the heavens. All paused, eyes looking up as the stem seemed to go on forever. And then, it dispersed, innumerable tendrils spreading out from the stem like the branches of a tree, moving all around. Then, without warning the tendrils started to fall from the skies, dropping down on the humans, sending them to the floor like a crippling blow from a hammer to the chest. They cried out, shouted of evil and dark powers. Of cruel force punishing them. But they could not fight back, suffering without any aid.
Galma fought off the few tendrils that came towards him with holy light, watching as his men screamed in agony. Their torture started to break him, making fear take control of his actions. He moved unsurely, the look on his face the perfect representation of a child experiencing a fear of the dark for the first time.
Then they emerged, the two walking into the view of the trolls. Sozun and Kerak. But this time Sozun was a different entity altogether. His body was like Kerak's, completely ethereal, both ghosts of this world, supreme spirits. All the familiar marks on his face were gone, features disappeared, leaving only the noise, mouth, and unholy eyes distinguishable on his face.
As the last rays of light were disappearing behind the peaks of Hillsbrad the two Ascendants went to work. They moved with godly speed and agility, battling down each human as they worked their way through the humans who still lived. One of the trolls raised his axe to go and join him but Kezzet stuck out a hand, "No mon... This ain't our battle anymore... When true loa be involved, ain't no one standing up ta them. They answerin our prayers...and retribution is they duty."
When Sozun approached Galma the human ran at him. He lunged forward, sword striking right through Sozun's body. When he looked up, he looked into the unholy eyes of the ascendant, and the mocking grin on his face. Sozun stood still, mind forcing its way into Galma's head. Moments later the human was on the ground screaming in pain. "Today, you will be the first to feel my power," came Sozun's echoing voice. Then, he placed a hand on Galma's shadow. Ripples ran through it and then the strange happened. Galma's yelling stopped, his mouth frozen wide open. At first it seemed as if his body were simply weakening but quickly all others saw the truth. He was aging. His body became thinner and thinner, frail bone starting to be seen through his skin, hair graying.
"Feel the suffering that you deserve." He was long dead but Sozun did not stop draining him. It was cannibalism perfected. The consuming of the flesh and body whole, through the shadows of a man. When Sozun lifted his hand up the shadow that was left was considerably smaller. And when he looked to where Galma's body once laid, all that was left was a small pile of dust.
Kerak walked towards Sozun, nodding approvingly, "It is over. You have done well... Ascendant Sozun Croz."
Sozun looked to Galma's remains, just as darkness fell over them totally, "Its over then isn't it? This is the end of my training."
Kerak once again nodded, "You like me are now the voice of our Church. They will look to you for guidance. I must continue my own path. And you must go on without me. But first, allow me to reward you with a gift."
Sozun turned to look at Kerak, noticing the object in his hands. It was Sozun's staff, metal rod, with three candles at the end, each lit with a greenish blue flame. Sozun raised a brow, reaching out for the staff and grabbing it, "I can... actually touch it?"
"Yes. An enchantment that a few of our own know. It allows us to touch the physical... Let it be a reminder that there is still much for you to learn of your powers on this path. And now, I take my leave. Shadows Hide You, Ascendant Croz."
Sozun held the staff with pride, nodding to his master, "Shadows Hide You, Ascendant Kerak." With that the man sunk into another shadow, disappearing from Sozun's sight.
Hours later Sozun stood with Kezzet and the remainder of his men, looking into Silverpine. "Got plans back dere mon?"
Sozun nodded, taking a few steps forward, "Back to Tirisfal. There was something I left undone... Long ago. Now I am ready to face my failure with power and mastery. It is time I depart."
Kezzet got to his knees, he and his three allies bowing down, "Me crew be forever in your debt mon. All hail da loa. We forever will be ya faithful. All hail da loa."
A smile found its way to Sozun's face. "Good luck." With that the ascendant stepped onto a shadow. And then, he was no more.
Spoiler:
"Kerak... what was that. It was not a dream, yet it felt so real. What happened?"
"The true ascendant knows his fate. He does not shrink away in doubt because the pure force of his destiny compels him to believe himself above all challenges. You faced your greatest doubts within your mind and your transformation shows the perfection of undeath. You truly understand our virtues, as any ascendant must. Only one who is Heroically virtuous could become an ascendant... and be worthy of veneration from all of Undercity."
"Then there is one thing I must do after we are finished here. I must return. For to truly be worthy I must face all my doubts not just in my mind... but within the world. And a human that I left victorious must fall..."
"Once when Joshua was near Jericho, he looked up and saw a man standing before him with a drawn sword in his hand. Joshua went to him and said to him, ‘Are you one of us, or one of our adversaries?' He replied, ‘Neither; but as commander of the army of the Lord I have now come.' And Joshua fell on his face to the earth and worshipped, and he said to him, ‘What do you command your servant, my lord?' The commander of the army of the Lord said to Joshua, ‘Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place where you stand is holy.' And Joshua did so."
Sozun Alone Part One: Dark Shrine
"Come on men! We must give it everything we've got if we are to defeat these blasphemous pigs. They attack our people, try and take our lands. But we can destroy these breathers. Through our personal power we can change the universe. Let that change be the one that ends this human threat."
Larz and the other forsaken rushed into battle, facing off against the men who had joined Geoffrey, who had become his 'Hand of Blood.' Far behind their battle was a small structure, a shrine built of stone blocks, small roof on its top. Its entrance lay wide open, letting anyone see the small space within, room for two or three to stand side by side without touching the walls.
Within the gray blocks was ground unearthed, just a few feet ahead, and a tombstone that had a single phrase written across it. Here lies Dark Priest Sozun Croz and Laity. While finally at peace, know that he will never rest. To the side of the tombstone was a small altar, made of bone and metal. It twisted up in a single hollow helix for about three feet then finally at its top was a bowl with crafted skulls adorning the sides. Within the bowl was blood and the smallest of holes. The hole let the blood drip down, through the center of the helix to the ground. But slowly it fell, drops hanging at the bowls bottom for several minutes before every falling.
On the wall behind it, scratched into the blocks was a phrase, Let the blood of men make fertile the land of the dead. The rate of the blood drops was so slow that each would soak into the ground before the next would drop. It was as if Tirisfal was taking the blood itself, consuming it. Two forsaken stood outside of the shrine, warriors watching and listening in silence. Their eyes were looking in the direction of the battle, though the battle itself was just beyond their sight, leaving only the faint sounds to alert them of its existence.
They waited until those sounds could no longer be heard. And then, they saw forsaken approaching, carrying with them the wounded and undoubtedly the lost.
"It was Larz who saved me in my mind... He was the memory that broke my doubt. I owe him thanks," came Sozun's echoing voice as he entered Tirisfal from Silverpine. As he travelled from shadow to shadow he saw the small stone shrine from its back. He stopped, moving now to circle the area from the darkness. Two forsaken stood guard of the structure but what the structure was left Sozun puzzled. "This is the place where I left my grave..."
Sozun peered inside of the shrine from a distance, seeing the shadows within. He nodded to himself before sinking into the shadow of a tree. When he next rose up, he was within the shrine, looking around it keenly. He saw his grave-marker still intact, as well as the altar and words written on the wall. "Let the blood of men make fertile the land of the dead," came his echoing voice, bouncing off the walls and then freeing itself through the entrance.
The warriors outside looked at each other with confusion then turned to enter the shrine, one calling out, "Who's there?" With swords drawn they looked into the darkness but even their unholy eyes could not see Sozun hidden within, making them scratch their heads in bewilderment.
Sozun turned around, speaking with the full grandeur of his dogmatic voice, letting echoing cacophony loud and petrifying to the unsuspecting, "I am Sozun Croz, he who speaks with the voice of shadows."
The two men, shocked, staggered past the doorway, one accidentally dropping his weapon on the way out. As they stood just outside of the entrance Sozun walked from within, showing his shadowy form, the perfect body of an ascendant. The two men now got to their knees and bowed, his voice still rattling through their bones. They both thought it but neither dared asked, asked how it was that Sozun lived in perfection though his body should be buried beneath the ground. Instead one of the warriors lifted his head to ask another question, "Croz... what is your wish?"
"Bring me Apothecary Larz."
Several minutes had passed before one of the warriors returned, this time with other forsaken. In the very back was one who lead a horse by the reigns, a large bag on the saddle. They brought the horse up to Sozun and then took down the bag. They opened it before the Ascendant, pulling away the brown cloth. Within was a smashed skull, broken into fragments and torn robes that rested on the severed bones of Larz. "We could not stop them... They destroyed him completely."
Sozun glared into the bag, rage and wraith building up inside of him. The other Forsaken saw the anger but what brought inklings of fear was not the look on his face, but the sound of his voice. Low and cold, like a calm, precise tip of an icicle. It was direct and chilling, lacking any passion, any heat, whatsoever, "Who did this?"
"The Hand of Blood... Former Scarlets lead by that Lancer.."
"Then we shall destroy them... And their blood will be an offering to sate my rage. Assemble all that you have. We march now."
The men went off and Sozun knelt before Larz's body, looking over it again and again. "I was meant to save all of us... But I could not even save you. I'm not meant that purpose Larz. We were wrong. I will not act as the hero of Undercity... I cannot be the intercessor."
Sozun thought back to Hillsbrad. He was unable to save all the lives of the trolls, just like he was unable to save Loc many years ago. Instead he was able to seek revenge for them. Be a force that brought death to enemies. "I am meant to be the avenger. He who leads the battle and crushes the enemy. And I will avenge you, just as I have avenged them all. This is my true path, my nature... Fate has willed me to be a dark and wicked god."
"...And when Antichrist shall have set up his kingdom on earth, it is St Michael who will unfurl once more the standard of the cross, sound the last trumpet, bind together the false prophet and the beast and hurl them for all eternity into the burning pool."
Sozun Alone The Conclusion: Blessed
"Respect. Tenacity. Power. Death. All these things are what we as the Forgotten Shadow learn, it is our way of existence. The four virtues, the tenants of our society...
Today however, I ask that you open your minds and embrace a fifth. There is another virtue, one that remains in the shadows, unused and often unheard of. But it has purpose. It serves as a uniting entity... Not between the other virtues, but between our people. It will not aid the path to perfection... It will not unlock power or prestige... But it ties us together. Creates an unstoppable union.
Yes... I speak of Compassion. Today it is that hidden fifth virtue that has brought us to arms. The Compassion of Apothecary Larz... For both his people and his Dark Priest. He died in protection of his Church against a threat. And in response we will destroy that threat once and for all.
Hear me Forsaken. Today is a day of reckoning. Do not fear the enemy. Not the finality of death. Only the failure that will hang over you if Larz has been lost to us in vain. Now come. Let us rid our land of yet another scourge."
Sozun heard the forsaken raise their voices, mouths open loud in exultation. He raised his staff up and behind him forty arms raised up a blade in response. Each was a man who had sworn his blade and service, becoming a member of Sozun's laity. And each was a Forgotten Shadow faithful to the core, their passion for Larz's heroics flowing from the tips of their weapons down to the skeletal toes in their feet.
Ahead of them marched Geoffrey Lancer and his men. Each human wearing their scarlet tabards, adorned with the blood-print of their own hands. In the very front Lancer took long strides forward, leading his men on as if he too were a god. The man drew his own blade, even in the darkness gleaming with rays of inner light.
"It is the Hand of Blood that will pierce through these lands like the tip of a spear, forcing it was through the enemy once hurled. Each of our blades forms that tip and the light wills it on, drives it into our opponents. Today let us walk with the light men. Let it flow through you, become one with it. We will chase them down and kill each and every abomination that exists here."
The humans let out their rowdy yells of approval, increasing pace along with Lancer, mailed feet stomping into the ground. At the opposite side Sozun himself slowed while his men carried on. One walked up next to him, a forsaken in dark plate armor, yelling out commands. He turned to Sozun, tone suddenly respectful, "Sir... Shall we start the destruction?"
Sozun gave his nod, "Leave none alive."
The forsaken bowed before continuing the march with the others, yelling out, "Slaughter them all! Anyone who breaths must feel the tip of a sword lunging through their gut."
At the same time Geoffrey turned to a man in robes, whispering in his hear, "Hold your men back for the long range.." The priest nodded and hurried off into the crowd while Geoffrey watched his men continue to advance.
And long strides turned longer and longer still. And living feet pounded against the ground. And undead bones rushed forward. And breathing became heavy. While breathing was long stilled. And two lines of warriors got closer and closer. And like all things, inevitably, they crashed.
Swords, axes, hammers, and weapons of all sorts swung all around in chaotic battle. The scale was smaller but the effect the same. War, a battle without art, style, or beauty. A battle of gore, bloodshed, destruction, and death. No matter what strategy happens in the background the result is still the same, conflict between sides without an end. And so hammer fell upon skull with sickening cracks. And swords thrust between ribs. And daggers pierced the heart. And blades destroyed the body. While men lost their souls to what lies beyond.
"Now! Go on and show them the mighty power of our Light!"
Walking infront of lancer was a line of priests. They held out their hands together, chanting calling the light to their aid. And hands glowed with a golden radiance. Humans raised those hands to the sky. And Light fell down from the heavens, balls of bright energy landing in the battle and striking forsaken down. Heavy blasts, burning them with holy flame. Shocking their bodies. Leaving them on the ground.
Sozun growled as he saw his warriors starting to fall. He motioned to the ten reserve, "Get your weapons. It is our time." Together they rushed into the battle, fighting against the humans and trying to get closer to the light priests. But they found the effort futile. Holy spells flung all around, blocking their path, healing their enemies. The battle got harder and harder.
...A bright flash of light blinding from the side. Sozun's ethereal form hit the ground without a sound. But from his mouth came the screams of a man whose flesh is being carved away. In his form he saw a gaping hole at the shoulder, where the blast had hit him. The pain was unbearable. But Sozun knew he had to bear it. A few forsaken covered him as he got to his feet. Meanwhile the inky substance of his body recovered, filling the hole until his body was like brand new.
But the pain still lingered. "I cannot... doubt. There must be a way, a way to get past this onslaught."
"Perhaps you need help Ascendant." Sozun turned in confusion, familiar voice ringing in his ears. There, behind him stood a figure in a black cloak with rapier in hand. The same figure from Silverpine. She removed her hood, revealing herself, Rebecca, walking forward, "After all... Even an Ascendant cannot do everything on their own."
"Rebecca... Why now? Why would you aid me?"
Rebecca moved to stand infront of Sozun, facing the enemy forces, "Because you did it. You became an Ascendant. I cannot refute that, and I'm no fool.Your form alone shows that you are now one of the leaders of our Cult. I would be mad to deny your power, your place among the shadow. And besides, this is my place. Between you and your enemies. I cannot allow a hero of the forsaken to be brought down by a human threat. Let me be your shield Ascendant Croz. I will guide you through the light."
Sozun grabbed his staff from the ground before nodding as Rebecca ran off. Together the two weaved their way through the battlefield. Regular warriors could do nothing against them, falling to the swift attacks of Rebecca and the brutal death brought by Sozun. Even the balls of light that forced their way to the pair could do no harm. For the Lightslayer carries with her a shield of faith of all times, faith in the Forgotten Shadow. It is this shield that cannot be broken, making all light yield. And it was with this shield that Rebecca protected Sozun from harm.
When they had finished a path was carved through the battle field, allowing the other men to get to the priests and finish them in close combat. "Go after their leader Croz. It is your duty to end this in glory."
Sozun nodded, darting with the speed that only an Ascendant has towards his prey. Another man tried to stop him but Rebecca was quick to Sozun's side, slaying the man with a thrust straight to the neck and two to the chest. Then, even as battle cries still were heard in the sky, Sozun faced off against Geoffrey. And Shadow battled Light.
There were no words between these men. They were both of the highest faith, and so there could be no argument that would satisfy either but one that ended in death. Lancer pushed forward violently with his blade, swings, cuts, and thrusts over and over again. In response Sozun dodged and parried, using his speed to his advantage. But one of the blows got in, and to Sozun's surprise, it pained him like that stray bolt of light.
Sozun let out a terrifying bellow as he took a few steps backwards. His unholy eyes remained on the blade for a few moments as a shadowy hand hovered over his wound. The sword shined strangely. Sozun's eyes widened. "Light blessed metal," came his echoing croak. The very words seemed to sicken him.
Meanwhile, Lancer laughed, "You thought you could beat me shadow? No, you're nothing but a fiend. You cannot stand against my sacred blade!"
And to this the Ascendant shook his head. "No... up until now you've seen only the shadow... But my nature is twofold.. Now watch as shadows gather, and darkness forms." And as he spoke his own shadow lifted from the ground, taking his exact form, down to every feature. And with wordless command the two raised their arms out together. And from them came coils of shadow, swirling all around. And each one pounded itself into Lancer's body. And even when he fell to the ground the onslaught did not end. Even as he cried, and prayed to the light for salvation the two shadowy fiends continued their attack. And even as he lay dead did the shadow plunge into him.
Sozun's shadow returned to the ground as Rebecca walked towards him. In the background the sounds of battle started to disappear, replaced with the cheering sounds of the Forsaken as they celebrated victory. And on the ground lay the body of Geoffrey Lancer, along with his gleaming sword. "It is done..."
----
Sozun watched as they started to pile the dirt back onto his grave. Now, atop it was the remains of Larz, as well as the sword of Geoffrey Lancer. "They will be safe here. The sword that cut an Ascendant... And the ally whose compassion brought that ascendant's full might into being."
He turned and wandered off as they patted down the dirt. Last, a new gravestone was erected, one of a similar shape and size, but with new words written at his request.
Here lies Dark Priest Sozun Croz and Laity. While the Dark Priest sleeps his guardian Larz restlessly protects his grave, and scares the Light from its path.
Disturb this earth and be warned, you will find the wraith of a vengeful god behind you.
Made of the Soul of Croz.
And the Compassion of Larz.
This was quite a good time. I enjoyed writing it very much. Thanks Nexi for all my questions answered and thanks to all who read.
Spoiler:
"What sort of story befits a saint?
My own hunch is that the story of a saint is always a love story. It is a story of a God who loves, and of the beloved who learns how to reciprocate and share that ‘harsh and dreadful love.' It is a story that includes misunderstanding, deception, betrayal, concealment, reversal, and revelation of character. It is… our story.
But to be a saint is not to be a solitary lover. It is to enter into deeper communion with everyone and everything that exists.â€Â
-Kenneth Woodward, Making Saints
Epilogue Path of the Saint
"I thank you for your aid Rebecca. It seems that in the end I would have been unable to win without you."
"What will you do now Croz...? You've saved your laity, proved yourself a more than capable ascendant. The Church will bow to all who ascend as will all Forsaken who answer the call of the Forgotten Shadow." Sozun let his head come down in acknowledgment, but not a word came from his lips. Rebecca turned her head away, motioning towards Undercity, "Do you doubt your newly acquired prestige? If you need proof you need merely to walk within our city walls."
Sozun's mouth opened, his words echoing through the air, "I am sure of my status among our people and our faithful. You don't have to worry about that."
Rebecca's hand pointed down the road the two walked on, a road leading away from the city, frown on her face, "Then where are you going? Why are you so soon leaving your people? They need the help of the Church, faith in the power of shadow if we are to survive and prosper. You would leave them now?"
Sozun closed his eyes. "I will always fight for our people, make no mistake. But there is more than one way to do so. They know my story now. It will serve as an inspiration for other forsaken to ascend. But my place is not to sit and train my brothers in the way of shadow. There is a world out there that will not bow to our power. My place is within that world, fighting against them, and readying the world for the rule of darkness, of the Forsaken... I must be the link, the connection between this world and the darkness yet to come." His head turned to look to Rebecca, "And your place is to protect our home from its enemies until the day that we become conquerors."
Rebecca's frown remained but she nodded slightly, "I expected that you would not remain in Tirisfal... Just look at who trained you. Kerak rarely returns himself. Still.." Rebecca let the bag she carried over her shoulder slide down her forearm before reaching inside. From within she pulled out a bundle of blue cloth."I think a walking shadow looks a bit too suspicious don't you? After all, what use would you be if constantly hunted for what you are?"
When Sozun did not make a move towards the clothing Rebecca held them out, "Like your staff they have the ghost touch property. Kerak isn't the only one with the ability to enchant items... These should provide sufficient covering so you can walk unnoticed."
The ascendant nodded, taking the clothes from Rebecca and placing his staff up against a dead tree. After a few moments he put them on, a blue robe that extended down to the ground to cover his feet and the majority of his body. Gloves wrapped up his hands entirely, hiding them from view. Finally, a hood fell over his head, casting shadow over his already shadowy face, making it impossible to see within the cowl.
"They may hide your appearance but light from any source will still have the same effects. The air around you, no matter where you go, will still chill the flesh and stink of death. Your voice will still cast echos all around. Still, it should make you less obvious when among the living."
Sozun nodded, "I thank you for your help Rebecca." With a gloved hand he picked up his staff, "Shadows hide you."
Rebecca returned the nod, lifting her bag back up her shoulder, "Shadows hide you Ascendant Croz."
With that the two turned away, Rebecca heading towards Undercity while Sozun wandered down a new path. One of great wickedness yes... Of dark deeds, of malicious acts. But also one of great compassion and love. Love for his own people, and compassion for his faith.
Spoiler:
And as he walked it became visible to all who would see. Just as nine of the twelve along with their savior wore these golden rings, the very same nimbus too would bind to his head. But for him it shinned not gold, yellow, or even the flames of a fiery angel, but pale white, encircling his head.
Of course, it was there from the very start. We just could not see it. For canonization does not make the mortal a saint. No, the mortal has since death laid within the beyond, tied to its power. It is only a declaration of what the halo has shown us all along. A recognition of the truth that the faithful have spoken in their prayers. A formalization of the legend.
And on he walked, guardian of his Church like Michael guards the holy city, patron of its followers. And as Michael stood only second to God, he would stand only second to the immortal power that is Death. The two would be alike in many ways, power, faithfulness, sanctity. Truly there was only one difference between them.
It was Michael who would stand before the disbelievers, before Satan, sword in his hands while the black wings of the archangel would rise to the sky. He, in the very spirit of humility, would utter a single phrase to which he expected only one answer, "Who is like God?"
And it was Sozun who stood high, facing the skies, wrapped in blue, sickening dark energy rising from his body. Staff held up to the clouds, he would shout it aloud, a shout that would sicken the heart of an angel, "I am god."
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