Accursed

[Lady Steise]

He hated Him.

With burning eyes, like hot coals of anger, he glared up at Him. Him, the Creator, the Glorious One, the Loving One, He Shone with the Light of Mercy and Compassion. Him, whom he had once worshipped and glorified with praise. Because He was beautiful. He was God.

But no longer.

Now, he hated Him.

He had been created a lesser being. Not a comrade, nor a friend, but a slave. A slave to worship the beauty of this marvelous God, for what else could he do but worship when his eyes were fixated on the most glorious Being that created all, but was never created?

Every moment had been pure, unadulterated bliss, it was true. The Light that shone forth from his Creator was like song and caught him up in only the greatest, most incomprehensible type of rapture. Even in his own high and mighty state, all of eternity could not express his wonderment of God.

But He was his God no longer.

He hated Him.

Gone were the day-less days of endless praise and worship. Because he had seen something. Something that he had never noticed before. Something that he loved and hated almost immediately, like two clashing waves that wreaked havoc on all else with the riptide that churned throughout them, but mostly below the surface.

Himself.

He had found himself.

Except he hadn’t - not really. No. In fact, he had lost himself. In that moment, he forfeited the wholeness of his being. He was left a shell, but with the mouthwatering essence of lust, he didn’t care. He just wanted more.

More of himself.

He had never realized how beautiful God had made him until that day, when he noticed and beheld himself. Truly, he was greater than all other angels! He had his own glory, his own being, his own self.

And in that moment, he decided that no longer would God have the worship -

He would.

-

Then
the serpent
said to the woman,
“You will not surely die. 

For God
knows
that in the day you eat of it
your eyes
will
be
opened
and you will be like God,
knowing good
and
evil.”

 So when the woman saw
that the tree was good
for food,
that it was pleasant
to the eyes,
and a tree desirable to make one wise,
she took
of its fruit
and
ate.
She also
gave to her husband
with her,
and
he
ate.
- Genesis 3:4-6

 
therefore the Lord God sent him out of the garden of Eden to till the ground from which he was taken. So He drove out the man; and He placed cherubim at the east of the garden of Eden, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to guard the way to the tree of life.

- Genesis 3:23, 24

-

Satan. He smiled. That was his name now. The Adversary. The Accuser.

He relished it.

Persuading the woman to eat of the forbidden fruit was easy. A simple task. She had been so naive and so stupid. He laughed bitterly and his eyes darkened. How simple, how easy to deceive, these creatures were, that God had made. And they, these things, were disgusting. Even he, the most repulsive to the heavens, was repulsed by these creatures.

They were disgusting.

And how dare He - God - create them. Created in His image, nonetheless! It almost seemed like sacrilege, blasphemy even. But no, it was true. And it was right, apparently. That God could make such vile, irreverent creatures in His own likeness. They were foul, worse than the bloodthirsty idols they worshipped instead of the Almighty God.

And yet - He loved them.

Loved them!

He had lamented over them at the Fall. And He had let them continue. Let this atrocious race proceed and live, rather than obliterate the dumb creatures upon first disobedience, like He first should have.

The Accuser spat. Oh, he hated these human beings alright. Almost as much as he hated God - maybe. And now, he would fell both. Certainly, he would.

He looked to his side. In the rock was carved a being. A “god.” Anubis. The body of a man, the head of a dog. A funeral god. He snickered.

They had already given the image of God over to these carved creations. And soon, they would give themselves over too.

-

Cursed. They were cursed.

They had thought he was an angel. They thought he was divine. But they didn’t know.

Now, here they were.

Before, they had been completely human. Made in the image of the Almighty God. But now, what were they?

They never should have listened to him. They should have sent him away. But how were they to know? They thought he had been sent from their god. they thought that he offered them a blessing. But what a curse it really was. Forsaken! Cast off! Damned! How could anyone, let alone God, forgive them now? Now, when they were nothing more than beasts.

When they had traded the image of God for Satan.

-

It had been several thousand years prior when man had done the unthinkable. In Egypt, in a ritual to one of their gods, they had seen a figure. They couldn’t make it out so clearly, but they knew this; it was beautiful. The figure spoke. It claimed to be a messenger of the gods. He smiled kindly. There was peace in his eyes, or so they thought. The beautiful being spoke and told them that he offered them a gift - a gift of the gods. That these men, who had pleased the gods, would become like them. They would no longer be as men. They would change. They would enter into a more glorified body. A divine body. All they had to do was say yes to this offer. This offer from “the gods.”
They accepted.
That day, they were transformed in mind, body, and soul. They became miserable creatures. Beastly creatures. The image of God seemed to fade from their bodies, transformed into something that was more akin to an animal, and yet, there was no beauty, no wonder in this image. It was almost demonic. This appearance.
They were monsters.
At first, they lamented their change. It was painful. It ripped them apart. They were hideous and hellish. They were disgraced. By God, it seemed, by fellow man, and most of all, by themselves.
Though soon, they grew to accept it. They grew bitter and vengeful. They embraced the monsters that they convinced themselves they now were. They attacked their fellow man. Stronger, faster, angrier, they defeated many with ease. They defeated vast civilizations and made them their own. They spread their race, by will or by force.
The world was divided between the image of God and the image of these beasts. They considered themselves unredeemable and descended further into their reprobate actions, until their consciences were all but lost. However, they did not prevail against all.

As the years progressed, the blood of these deviant men intermingled with the blood of normal humans. It became less and less beastly, but still retained the original curse. The curse of these beasts spread far and wide and so did their strife. Legends of creatures of the night grew, all based on the existence of these cursed humans.
Now, King Arthur reigns in Britain. From another land, a mysterious Queen of the South surfaces. Her name is unknown and her numbers are uncertain; mere tales on the wind recount of her people. All that is known of them is thus: she and her people are cursed, and they are declaring war against Britain, among many other kingdoms.
Throughout Europe and her empires, fear is spreading. Whispers of this beastly people reach every ear and come from every mouth. As it is, some kingdoms have already fallen to her wrath. Accounts of Germanic tribes being slaughtered and feasted upon are merely the beginning of the stories that afflict every man, woman, and child with great shuddering and terror.
Still, courage prevails in Britain and many other parts of Europe. King Arthur has met the challenge in stride. Britain will not surrender to this cursed queen; not as long as God lives, Arthur declared. While many Pagans among the people murmured at this saying, the Britains still gathered every man able and with a morale that astounded many. It was settled; they would go to war. They would win - or perish in the attempt.

[Lady Steise]

So, rules. I don't have any, really. O.o If you stick to the forum rules, you'll be good. If not, oh well. Otherwise, not much of a rule, but this is a casual role play, so you don't have to be self-conscious about anything (trust me - I'm not). Just try not to make one-liners. It kills me. And then I die, and that's bad for my health.

Other Info:

- Your character can be anything. King Arthur's troops, Southern troops, random gypsy, whatever.

- If your character is cursed, run with it. I don't care how you portray that curse, so be creative. There is no set standard for how they have to be. They can be nearly pure blooded in their curse, or very watered-down. They can be like a vampire, random monster, or anything you want. The only thing that is definite in these is that, for the sake of a story, they are redeemable. It's not likely, it doesn't have to happen, but it could. And we can make up some random way that no one's heard of before to do it. But that's it.

[Lady Steise]

{[ Faolan: pronounced "fwail-awn"
Tadhg: tih-gue" ]}

Warrior. Beast. Warrior. Beast.

Faolan blinked. Exhaled slowly. If he sighed, Tadhg would notice, and that would surely prompt excessive questioning. He hated excessive questioning - especially when it came from Tadhg. His friend reminded him of a woman, and for all the brotherly love they shared, he was a nuisance some times.
The two were currently traveling towards Spain. According to several spies sent out by the King, it appeared as if preparations were being made by the enemy to establish a camp there, in the Southern region, Baetica. Unfortunately, such could only be the case if a monarchy had fallen. They were praying this was not what had happened. As it seemed, wherever this stranger Queen conquered, she left her mark in the form of destruction, desolation, and the most savage kind of slaughter. Gruesome details were always reported by soldiers who encountered the aftermath of her battles. What seemed especially disturbing was her lack of attention to common battlefields - often she bypassed entire infantries without them even knowing of her presence. Rather, her sights seemed to be directed toward towns; civilians. The women and children who were left alone in their homes, while their husbands and sons were gone to war. These were the places that the Queen attacked and decimated in the most brutal of ways.
Faolan and Tadhg had been sent to find out if this was the case in Spain. Faolan sincerely hoped it was not, and he knew the same went for his friend. He often heard his younger companion mention their destination in his prayers before they went to sleep at night. While Faolan - though he knew without a doubt that the Lord God existed - did not pray, he often silently plead to no one in particularly that this beast queen had not left her mark in another region.
Faolan ran his tongue over his teeth absentmindedly. He looked up at the sky and shielded his eyes. The sun was nearly at it’s peak and the two had set out a bit after dawn. He considered the horses and decided that they would have to stop very soon. He lowered his gaze and scanned the landscape. About fifty yards ahead was a decent sized tree that marked the beginning of a small wood, and then a larger forest. They would stop there.
“Tadhg,” Faolan nodded over to his friend.
 “Oh, yes, my valiant warrior?” Tadhg grinned, his slightly crooked teeth flashing as he turned toward Faolan.
Faolan refrained from rolling his eyes. He and Tadhg were sent on this quest of sorts largely because of their skill. Tadhg was excellent at scouting. However, Faolan had been sent with him because should any problem arise - something which was likely unavoidable - he was one of Britain’s renowned warriors; an superb knight. Something which proved beneficial on many occasions both on and off the battlefield. And, as Tadhg was Tadhg, he rarely let his friend forget that.
“If it is all right with you, m’lady, I believe we should rest our horses over by that tree yonder.” Faolan pointed to the tree.
“Oh, he has a sense of humor as well, what a dashing knight is he.” Tadhg mocked. Then he nodded. “It would probably be best.”
“Good.” Faolan nodded.
Some minutes later, they had tied up the horses at the tree and all four of the living beings were taking a break to drink and eat what they dared of their provisions. Luckily nature was not yet sparse here, so if need be, there would be little issue finding some sort of food in a nearby forest, as well as ample water.
They ate in silence for the most part, and Faolan found himself once again stirred by his earlier thoughts, while Tadhg cheerfully watched the clouds and enjoyed the breeze.

Warrior. Beast. Warrior. Beast. Warrior.

Wolf.

Faolan blinked. “Wolf” was the translation or meaning of his name. It was because of his race. His curse. Though he seemed more like a possessed bear in his other form, he disliked the etymology quite a bit, and was thoroughly thankful that the beast blood in him was diluted enough to only be visible if he were to transform, which he usually could prevent. Usually, being the keyword. But when he was born, it was a different story. The way he must have looked...He shuddered. That was how he got his name. He often thought of how he and Tadhg must have made a good pair; he was the wolf, and Tadhg, with the last name of “Conchobhar” was “the lover of hounds.” A dog, then. He was a dog, as far as he, and most everyone else who knew of his curse, was concerned. Except Tadhg, who apparently did not mind dogs so much.

“A shamrock for your thoughts?” Tadhg’s question interrupted his train of thought.
“Why a shamrock?” Faolan mused.
“Well, they’re supposed to be good luck, you know.” his friend pointed out.
Faolan snorted. Neither of them believed in luck. “I suppose.” he paused. “But you can keep your shamrock.”
“Oh, well, I would rather not.” Tadhg sounded disappointed.
“And why is that?”
“Well, you see, shamrock’s are quite fragile. And what if I were to crush it? Would that be bad luck, then?” Tadhg mused aloud.
Faolan shook his head with a smile. Of course Tadhg did not mind dogs so much; he was like a child, and could mind no one, it seemed.