Sri Laa
09-07-07, 01:28 PM
God... who is god? A man, a spirit, a force or an idea that gives hope to those in need? For Sri Laa, The One, as his church called it, is an all powerful celestial being that represents happiness and love to those who believe and follow the scriptures of The One's teachings. The teachings that Sri Laa spent most of his life researching, memorizing, and depending on to get him through his life. Instead, all he had to show for it now was a wife and child whom were cut off from this life by the very men that were the diciples of The One. Preists who took Sri Laa into their church and made a brother amoung the fatherhood to look out for the children of The One.
Betrayed by his church, his brotherhood, and his god, Sri Laa buried his family with the respect they deserved but he could not give. The formality that a proper funeral required could not be obtained because a preist had to bless the bodies in the name of whatever god was being represented. There was no god to offer his family, in Sri Laa's eyes. That god, whose name he once served but now cursed, was not welcome to his families burial, for it was his diciples that brought upon their unneccesary death.
After his wife and child were buried, Sri Laa sat in the dirt and stared at the mounds they were under. His eyes had become engulfed in a swelling of tears and redness. His skin burned from the salty tears that ran off his face onto the ground. Faster and faster he began to shake, his hands trembled in the dirt. He got up on his knees and gave a final prayer to his former deity.
"I renounce your name from my life! You, who are heartless and cold! You who are the bringer of misery and death! I am no longer your slave nor any selfish deity... I am my own god and I will destroy you!" He screamed out as saliva shot from his mouth and his veins all over his neck and face popped out as if they were ready to burst.
Sri Laa reached for his ring that was a symbol of his preisthood and tried to rip it off his finger... it would not budge. No matter what he tried this ring was not going to be removed from his hand. This was The One's way of taunting him by leaving this burden on his skin for life. After giving up on taking the ring off, the former preist got up from his knees and walked into the house as if a force drew him in. He went straight for his katana that sported a 42 inch steel blade. After tucking it under his belt he stopped for a moment and looked around his house. How empty it felt, as did he, knowing that it would never share that same feeling it once did when he was a happy man with his family... a different man than he felt he was now.
On the table was studying material and scriptures of his newly renounced religion. His teeth grit with anger as it stared back at him, but he soon fixed the problem by tossing it all in the lit fireplace. The papers crackled as they shriveled into a black heep of ash. This is what he thought of the god that allowed this all to happen. It was time for him to go, but not before taking one last look at his house from the doorway... This was to be his last look as he went back in and grabbed a broom from behind the door and lit the straw on fire from the fireplace. He tossed the flaming broom under a curtain and watched the flame creep up the cloth and crawl onto the cieling. Now it was time to go...
With his house flaming behind him, Sri Laa carried the eyes of hate on his face as he ran to the church where he knew his former brothers would be praying... praying about their sacrifice in the name of The One. It wasn't long before he stood in front of the small church that was made of wood and had beautiful stained glass along the sides. Feeling a pain shoot through his head, Sri Laa grabbed both sides of his face and caught his breath. What he was about to do was something he never imagined himself being capable of...
He burst through the front wooden door and stood across from the alter where the three preists he once called brothers were on their knees stunned by his presence.
"Brother Vishen!"[/b] One of the men, who was wearing their white and blue ceremonial robes said in shock. [i]"It was for your own good... in the name of The One we purified your relationship with The One. It is..."
"It is blasphemy! I will not hear that wretched name of your god spoken anymore!" Sri Laa interupted, shouting with a sincere anger dripping from his mouth. He closed the doors behind him and locked them up. The click of the lock echoed off the walls and rang in the ears of the men. They could not see his katana, because his burgandy cloak was draped over it.
"Brother Vishen... surely you must understand that we did what we did to help you... you were falling from the preisthood." The same preist said, with his voice shaking in an undertone. He seemed to be the head of the church as he did all the speaking.
"Do not... call me your brother." Sri Laa quietly said. The word brother coming from these men was disturbing to the ex-preist. Sri Laa's boots clapped along the wooden floor as he slowly walked towards the men. The preist on the left side got off his knees and stood up as Sri Laa got closer. "Don't stand up! Get back on your knees... a position you slaves are used to!" Sri Laa shouted as he threw back a corner of his cloak to reviel his katana and reached over with his right hand and drew the blade, which gave a chilling sliiiing noise that shot fear up the men's spines.
"Brother Vish....*argh*..." The man who was still standing was briefly interupted by a steel blade effortlessly slashing across his throat. He reached to clog the wound, but his efforts were useless as he slumped off to the side and drown on his blood.
"I thought I made myself clear when I said not to call me your brother." The swordsman said so cold that his breath was nearly visible.
The other preists drew closer together and wimpered. A man on the right side began to say a quiet prayer to himself. Sri Laa walked up to him and placed the blade that was still dripping with the blood of the other preist against his throat.
"Do you think he can hear you... or cares what you have to say?" The ex-preist retorically asked. "[i]Heh heh... fool." He added just before he gave a flick of his wrist cut through the man's trachea.
It was just Sri Laa and the preist who went by the name Father Tergen. Sri Laa dropped his blade to his side, still gripping the hilt and ready to make a move at any moment. Tergen looked up at him with a tear in his eye and said in a hoarse voice that barley made a whisper. "We did it for you... You are one of us!"
With a black leather glove, Sri Laa grabbed the man's chin and jerked his head up and looked him straight in the eye. "For me?... You took away my happiness... the life of a defenseless woman... and a child? For you me you say?! Tell me you're joking..." Tears began to swell in the bottoms of his eyes. "Tergen... you have done nothing for me... your god has done nothing for me. What could I possibly want, just to have it all taken away because you think you're some holy martyr doing me a favor? You are pathetic" The hate began to run so think through Sri Laa's veins. The nerve of this man...
His blade raised in the air, shaking from the surging power he felt to take this man's life. "Allow me to return the favor... I'll get you closer to god" He quietly said as he drove the blade from right to left severing Tergens head right off his shoulders.
All three men were dead... His family was dead... his religion was dead... Did Sri Laa feel any better taking vengence on these men? Nothing felt sweeter than watching them die.
Betrayed by his church, his brotherhood, and his god, Sri Laa buried his family with the respect they deserved but he could not give. The formality that a proper funeral required could not be obtained because a preist had to bless the bodies in the name of whatever god was being represented. There was no god to offer his family, in Sri Laa's eyes. That god, whose name he once served but now cursed, was not welcome to his families burial, for it was his diciples that brought upon their unneccesary death.
After his wife and child were buried, Sri Laa sat in the dirt and stared at the mounds they were under. His eyes had become engulfed in a swelling of tears and redness. His skin burned from the salty tears that ran off his face onto the ground. Faster and faster he began to shake, his hands trembled in the dirt. He got up on his knees and gave a final prayer to his former deity.
"I renounce your name from my life! You, who are heartless and cold! You who are the bringer of misery and death! I am no longer your slave nor any selfish deity... I am my own god and I will destroy you!" He screamed out as saliva shot from his mouth and his veins all over his neck and face popped out as if they were ready to burst.
Sri Laa reached for his ring that was a symbol of his preisthood and tried to rip it off his finger... it would not budge. No matter what he tried this ring was not going to be removed from his hand. This was The One's way of taunting him by leaving this burden on his skin for life. After giving up on taking the ring off, the former preist got up from his knees and walked into the house as if a force drew him in. He went straight for his katana that sported a 42 inch steel blade. After tucking it under his belt he stopped for a moment and looked around his house. How empty it felt, as did he, knowing that it would never share that same feeling it once did when he was a happy man with his family... a different man than he felt he was now.
On the table was studying material and scriptures of his newly renounced religion. His teeth grit with anger as it stared back at him, but he soon fixed the problem by tossing it all in the lit fireplace. The papers crackled as they shriveled into a black heep of ash. This is what he thought of the god that allowed this all to happen. It was time for him to go, but not before taking one last look at his house from the doorway... This was to be his last look as he went back in and grabbed a broom from behind the door and lit the straw on fire from the fireplace. He tossed the flaming broom under a curtain and watched the flame creep up the cloth and crawl onto the cieling. Now it was time to go...
With his house flaming behind him, Sri Laa carried the eyes of hate on his face as he ran to the church where he knew his former brothers would be praying... praying about their sacrifice in the name of The One. It wasn't long before he stood in front of the small church that was made of wood and had beautiful stained glass along the sides. Feeling a pain shoot through his head, Sri Laa grabbed both sides of his face and caught his breath. What he was about to do was something he never imagined himself being capable of...
He burst through the front wooden door and stood across from the alter where the three preists he once called brothers were on their knees stunned by his presence.
"Brother Vishen!"[/b] One of the men, who was wearing their white and blue ceremonial robes said in shock. [i]"It was for your own good... in the name of The One we purified your relationship with The One. It is..."
"It is blasphemy! I will not hear that wretched name of your god spoken anymore!" Sri Laa interupted, shouting with a sincere anger dripping from his mouth. He closed the doors behind him and locked them up. The click of the lock echoed off the walls and rang in the ears of the men. They could not see his katana, because his burgandy cloak was draped over it.
"Brother Vishen... surely you must understand that we did what we did to help you... you were falling from the preisthood." The same preist said, with his voice shaking in an undertone. He seemed to be the head of the church as he did all the speaking.
"Do not... call me your brother." Sri Laa quietly said. The word brother coming from these men was disturbing to the ex-preist. Sri Laa's boots clapped along the wooden floor as he slowly walked towards the men. The preist on the left side got off his knees and stood up as Sri Laa got closer. "Don't stand up! Get back on your knees... a position you slaves are used to!" Sri Laa shouted as he threw back a corner of his cloak to reviel his katana and reached over with his right hand and drew the blade, which gave a chilling sliiiing noise that shot fear up the men's spines.
"Brother Vish....*argh*..." The man who was still standing was briefly interupted by a steel blade effortlessly slashing across his throat. He reached to clog the wound, but his efforts were useless as he slumped off to the side and drown on his blood.
"I thought I made myself clear when I said not to call me your brother." The swordsman said so cold that his breath was nearly visible.
The other preists drew closer together and wimpered. A man on the right side began to say a quiet prayer to himself. Sri Laa walked up to him and placed the blade that was still dripping with the blood of the other preist against his throat.
"Do you think he can hear you... or cares what you have to say?" The ex-preist retorically asked. "[i]Heh heh... fool." He added just before he gave a flick of his wrist cut through the man's trachea.
It was just Sri Laa and the preist who went by the name Father Tergen. Sri Laa dropped his blade to his side, still gripping the hilt and ready to make a move at any moment. Tergen looked up at him with a tear in his eye and said in a hoarse voice that barley made a whisper. "We did it for you... You are one of us!"
With a black leather glove, Sri Laa grabbed the man's chin and jerked his head up and looked him straight in the eye. "For me?... You took away my happiness... the life of a defenseless woman... and a child? For you me you say?! Tell me you're joking..." Tears began to swell in the bottoms of his eyes. "Tergen... you have done nothing for me... your god has done nothing for me. What could I possibly want, just to have it all taken away because you think you're some holy martyr doing me a favor? You are pathetic" The hate began to run so think through Sri Laa's veins. The nerve of this man...
His blade raised in the air, shaking from the surging power he felt to take this man's life. "Allow me to return the favor... I'll get you closer to god" He quietly said as he drove the blade from right to left severing Tergens head right off his shoulders.
All three men were dead... His family was dead... his religion was dead... Did Sri Laa feel any better taking vengence on these men? Nothing felt sweeter than watching them die.