AVALON #1 Writen: Dragonblade Edited: JFive jfive@ipa.net EIC: Kingbob kingbob@softhome.net Legacy of Blood, Part 1: Ceremonies of Light and Dark There is music in the silence As I start my fall from grace There is no stairway to the light Will there be music left to write, heaven knows In my fantasy there is a flower of the night A black rose They say good things come to those who wait And I've waited for so long I need this moment, right or wrong -- Lori Yates, Black Rose ------ Sometimes solace is found in the most reviled of places, because there is no need greater than the need for personal peace and peace is often found by confronting the demons of a locked door. Many a warrior, scholar or leader has been confronted by that which they despise and that which they now are faced with. No greater demon lies than in the souls of men broken, body and soul, and forced to live again, their bodies caskets for a soul no longer of the same mind from which it was born. Magnus Lehnsherr is one of those men, a warrior and scholar trapped within nobility and treachery in a world he no longer believes is his own. He was forged in the flames of a war-torn Germany, a place as battered and broken as the man he has come to be. There a soul much too young was affronted by death, destruction, and the madness of bloodshed and afflicted with the burdens of responsibility and pain long before his barely child self was able to bear the curse of a holocaust world. From the day his family was ripped from him to the concentration camps and he witnessed the firsthand horrors of German war life, Magnus Lehnsherr had left his childhood long before it had begun. He was a crusader and a scholar much too early -- a man without the creature comforts of a childhood and thrust without being prepared into the secrets and the lies of anarchy. For a moment the now aged and hardened man can hear the tortured screams of dying innocents and the cries of war. The black flames of terror are at his back and coming ever closer. He is weakened, bleeding, battered. His life and the horrors are flashing before his misted vision. The chamber is gone, replaced by the corpse-ridden battlefields of Auschwitz and the Soviet Union dominion. The stench of blood and ruined air is inhaled through his nostrils in sudden place of the purified air of the station. It is coming back now, all which he has locked away.... "NO!" The hallucination is broken sharply and the real world comes, hurling itself back into view. With a powerful force of rage and bitterness his gloved hand slams down upon the desk, shattering the empty glass sitting there into tinted shards taking flight and leaving a spider web of cracks in the blue marble finish. The enraged cry slips from his lips without thought nor premonition with the tone of an anguished man who has seen too much and has too many crosses to bear. His gray eyes narrow and cloud in fractions of a second, the lone tear breaking its borders and cascading with a cold deadness down the etched features of his left cheek. All too suddenly his conscience reins in his quicksilver emotion and the realization of both timelines, Auschwitz and Avalon, collide together like the explosion of an atomic warhead. Magnus Lehnsherr stares his reflection coldly and morosely in the eye like a man drunk on reality and wearily reflecting on all he has experienced. All of his features are paled with their extended age: his slitted gray eyes are almost frozen marble, his greying hair is pulled into a high ponytail like the stiff corpse he knows he will become, and many wrinkles adorn his face. According to most of the human Earth populace, his mutant *heritage* is a disgrace to him. Yet this very rage against such egotistical tyrants is what dedicates Magnus to his purpose, keeps him from walking away. He will never forget it. "Lord Magnus, sir, there are -- some serious probl'ms -- that need yuir immediate att'ntion," the lilting Irish tone of the woman known as Holy Ghost whispers, delicately breaking a reverie gone untamed too many decades. "Understood, Ghost. I shall be at the post at once," Magnus mutters coldly, not even bothering to look back at her -- not now. It just does not feel right to him, not yet. Maybe in a few fleeting moments, but not then. His people need him -- and again, he will answer their summons. "Yes, m'lord. I shall be awaitin' yuir presence at the starb'rd post," the young highland woman replies, worried already by her leader's deliberate tone, his refusal to even acknowledge her presence, walking away without further pleading. she inquires then, reaching out with the power of her subconscious to utilize her telepathic skill to contact the other female sentry onboard, Blind Faith, a telepath and clairvoyant with a much darker mood. Whereas Ghost could be seen as Life, Faith could be seen as Death. Yet Magnus supported even Faith's rebellious, tempered rallies as well as Ghost's cautious maneuvers. It was a paradox. came the deeper British voice channeled through the psilink. Ghost replied. Magnus promptly arrived at the starboard sentry's post as he had promised, sullen and angry all the same. It was one of Magnus' oddities -- one moment he could be as kindly as Ghost herself, and the next he could be as dark as an Apocalyptic madri or mutant-hater. No one thought much of it. "M'lord, these are the current status reports on the Sabah Nur, and the other non-Av'lon lifeforms, yuir lordship," announced Ghost, handing her leader a stack of paperwork. A- Apocalyptic/Essexian Av - Avalon N-A - Non Aligned N-C Non Classifiable O - Other A - Patrol Scout, Golden Omega Sector -- Four, 0100, 0200, 0300, 0400. Border. Av - Standard armament; Eight Hydra class interceptors, 0100, 0200, 0300, 0400. Border. N-A - Cruiser and escort, 0700 -- Customs. N-C - Combat drone ship/prison transport? 1200, Border space. O - Combat targets -- 0800, 50 parsecs from border space. "Why are the Sabah Nur suddenly hiding like as if their kommandant is dead?" Magnus spoke aloud. "Are they crippled, waiting for something?" "Those patr'l scouts suggest that they're watchin' us," Ghost interrupted. "They're savin' themselves for somethin', that's for sure." "Keep me alerted and I want patrols round the clock," Magnus said before storming away yet again. At 0500, the fifth patrol is flying their run. The six-man star is made up of two interceptors, scout-spy planes, and two heavy fighters that are crusing at just above average. They have had an uneventful run, as have the previous four squadrons. Suddenly the wing interceptor swings right, locked on a strange hovering, hunched object at the borderline of the Gold-Omega Avalon Sector. *Beta Fox, Beta Fox, report!* demands Zeta Pegasus, the leading aviator. *It appears to be....* comes the radio as Beta Fox begins to speak. Suddenly the hunched craft rears up, spotting the squadron. It leaps into action with a furious fervor. An atomic warhead is disengaged from some weapons pod on the mysterious ship, and Beta Fox goes into a deep roll to evade. Despite all the tricks and turns the pilot has been taught, the missile tracks the plane as if it were standing still. Not one maneuver shakes the salvo from Beta Fox's tracks, and Beta Fox yells at the commander what is going on. *Thing's a heat missile -- it won't disengage!* Frantically, the plane swerves and bucks in a final effort to escape just before the warhead cuts a burning gash through it, cutting the plane in two and watching it explode. The rest of the squad is tumbled away like flies with the force of the nuclear explosion, rocking through the cold Savage Land terrain with mighty roars and groans. Paint and pieces fly like animals from the downed crafts as they tumble and ignite in the underbrush and flora of the Savage Land. The noises of this event can be heard for miles away and send many people into worry and chaos. The commander thumbs his emergency communicator as he blocks out the screams of a dying copilot and tries to escape from the twisted wreckage of a Sky Angel fighter craft. *Zeta Peg to Base, we are downed and need help --* *Epsilon Squad to Base! Anyone alive and able to move, retreat from this area and get aid!* Inside the Apocalyptic craft, a small murmur of triumph is heard. *Reaper to Sabah, we are proceeding with Plan Deux. Long live En Sabah Nur!* The trap was sprung -- the battle was joined. Aboard Avalon, alarms and sirens were going off everywhere as soldiers raced to signify the disturbance and compensate for it. No one was patient; the station was a frenzied, chaotic whirlwind of action. There was no longer time to spare. The civilians were hustled into the auditorium, the safest room onboard, and the soldiers and enlisted fighters rushed methodically to their planes and vehicles. People were afraid and panicking, even some of the soldiers. The place was cast in crimson light as Ghost and Faith were left to oversee crisis operations for their recently departed leader. Hustle and bustle and noise was all that could be seen or heard in the first five minutes of red alert. Tactical patterns and commands were scrambled and sent as fighter squads were deployed and sent out to hunt-and-destroy any threats to the station. One of these soldiers was a man named Brian du Claire, also known as Revenger.He was a man who lived for war and who hated waiting. *The politics and waiting were a waste of fighting time, why wouldn't they all just hack and slash and get it on with? he asked more than once. Du Claire's handsome features belied a brutal man with a sinister agenda. He was never quite happy with Magnus, and his only reason for being on Avalon was for the recognition it would bring. He had no dedication to his work or to Magnus and his cause. *Look at those crafts -- brave enough to take the preemptive!* he thought. *Serves Magnus right, for waiting so long. Apocalypse will keep coming and keep winning until we move first...* A sly smile formed on Du Claire's lips. After all, he didn't want to be on the losing side of any war....and those crafts out there might have some real brute force, not just words, to back up any claim. It looked like a rather promising affair, these attacks. "We shall stand united in the face of war," Magnus said, speaking to the civilian masses that had not been eligible to fight now with their fellow men and women. "The people of Avalon are one -- one people united under a common dream and banner. We cannot be broken unless we surrender ourselves to the causes of Sabah Nur, and that is a rite we shall never enact. No matter how bleak or tainted any future may seem, our devotion and our liberation will carry us to the higher path. Only by working as one can we achieve a higher dream of human and mutant coexistance. We are the foundation to the prophecy the rest of the universe will hopefully follow and live by, that new cultures will be founded upon. This is a chance to stand for righteousness and to make a difference that shall be remembered by those here today and by those here tomorrow." Amid the applause and cheers within the main auditorium where they had gathered, Magnus departed from the stand and went to join his people, those who had devoted themselves to his dream and cause. After all, he was responsible for their lives, survival, trust and moral fidelity. They all looked up to him as the war hero who hunted down prejudiced Nazis in WWII and who fought for what he had and what he believed in. They were his sheep, and he was their shepherd. As they were angels, he was their avatar. As they were soldiers, he was their commander. Until the day of his death, Magnus Lehnsherr swore he would uphold those duties in any way possible, to the best of his ability. These people were of all types, from human to mutant to alien. They had individual trades as diplomats or artists, and unique lives and families to come home to. Their looks were as different as snowflakes, and their traits just the same. Every man, woman or child here was different from the one before, as this generation was different from its forefathers. No one was the same height, weight, eye or hair color or style. Not one had the same origin or build that the man standing in the regimental line beside him did. Some of them were soldiers in the Avalon Watch and Avalonian Army, some were simply civilians searching for -- and finding -- a haven where they could live good lives. All of them were different, unique. Everyone would sacrifice everything on his word. They trusted him with their very lives. If Magnus were to command something, no one would think twice about it. Where loyal subjects existed, there could be no more loyalty to a leader than the Avalonians had to Magnus Lehnsherr. No matter what he asked of them, they would willingly follow his lordship into demonic dens and back again. The utmost loyalty was given to Magnus when one belonged under him with such an honor, and Magnus had never even requested it. They would do anything he asked of them. *Would they obey me,* he then thought as he looked out among them, *if I was asking them all to die on my word, for my cause?* He could not answer his question, but prayed he was right. The fear that faced Magnus was that that would be what he would have to ask of them. END -------------- Next Ish: "Legacy of Blood, Part II: When Darkness Falls" Something more is in store for the citizens of Avalon! As what could be war breaks out, chaos strikes the peaceful haven and makes for drastic measures. The first blows, political and physical, are landed and brutal combat rules the land. Turmoil runs amok and Magnus struggles to keep the peace.