Of Whisperers, Nephilim and Dark Lords

An Unholy Union

The Whisperer:

The Moribund River, in the cursed land of Perdition, boils with fire. It breathes mud-like pockets of ashes and bones. On its west bank a vile creature named Pernicious crawls to its edges. His exaggerated eagle claws scratch the surface of Perdition's thirsty terrain. He drags his broken skeletal body closer to the flames of Moribund.

The fiery river, he believes, will heal him. But he fears its power and does not touch. He can only wait for help and hope he is worth something to someone in this desolate land.

"Whisperer!" a voice thunders. "Come here!"

Pernicious mumbles and ignores the hollering of the one they call Abaddon. "Son of Anak," the Whisperer screeches, "leave me be!"

Heat and dry dust burns in their throats. Ashes fall like snow. Both beings are irritated but wait for the magic of Moribund's fire. Will it bring them life, such as it is, or claim it?

"How could you lose to the Canaanite, a mere human?" Pernicious scoffs. His voice is more raspy than usual. "You are twice his size with the strength of ten men." He starts to mock his superior but thinks better of it. His taunt is a measly whisper. "Abaddon, mighty leader of the Nephilim, indeed." Pernicious raises his bony jaw in defiance. The ground shakes and billows of smoke rise through the fractures of the land. "I was once mightier than the likes of you ¯stronger, swifter, and prettier, I might add, a better warrior than you, by far. I was . . . long ago."

The Whisperer chooses silence for a second or two, haunted by the memories of the perfect being he used to be. Jealousy, an annoying weakness of his, is the reason why he is now counted among the fallen.

How did I get this way? Why was I jealous of that Warrior, Paladin? I was already better than he, superior to say the least. His scorpion tail, coiled between the hanging skins of his hind legs, rattles and drips with poison. "You!" He points his decrepit claws to the leader of the Nephilim who is coughing and sputtering as the reddish mists of dust and air infiltrate his lungs. "You and your kind brought me down!"

Abaddon: