Post by Lennart Olden on Mar 9, 2013 23:23:20 GMT -5
Bells rang. They pounded over head in a beautiful cacophony that spoke to the marvelous power of the church. Nearly every sound in the great Vatican City was drowned out by the hundreds of bells calling out the twelfth hour of the day. calling out that morning mass had ended and many were returning home. The sounds of the bells sounded on. it called up to the clouds above with the strength of God's chosen children. The clear and ringing sounds echoed down the darkest alleys and through the brightest courtyards. The sound purified the people of the city, body and soul. It would cause the dark ones to cover their ears though the righteous listened and were made stronger. The voice of the Holy Ghost seemed to called out with each powerful ring. For nearly a minute all things halted for the power of the bells. Then the world returned to how it was. It moved on in ignorance of the darkness that stalked it. It moved on so that the true warriors of God could do what needed to be done.
Lennart stood. He hand clasped in front of him, head bowed before the great crucifix that hung from the ceiling. Here he was not armed. He carried no weapons for fear of disrespecting the Church. the church that had given him a second chance and new purpose. He clutched his Grandfather's old hat in his hands as he prayed. The old Nazi uniform he had worn as his badge of strength once he joined the forces of good was always on him. He had removed the insignia for they were out dated and often caused issues. Not only that, but all God's creatures were equals and the old German mad men did not believe that. It would not be proper to wear such things. However, he still wore the uniform. He had to. His weapon of the soul was his grandfather's bullet it was only right to wear the uniform. After all, his Grandfather was a hero and this uniform gave him great courage and strength.
"... Give me the strength to keep your flock, the wisdom to be a moral person, the patience to know when to act, the fortitude to hold fast with faith, and the fervor to shatter the soul of any demon I meet. Amen" Lennart took in a deep breath. He smelled the fading inscents from the mass that had just ended. it was a marvelous mass at that. It had been focused on Romans. The boook of tribulations. It had been inspiring, at least it had been to Lennart. to others of weak faith he knew they were just words. they were often not important. However, they were under the umbrella of Heaven just like those of iron faith and would not be forsaken. Lennart snapped his right hand to the side and placed his cap back over his gray shaggy hair. "Lord empower my soul with the power of Michael, the Knowledge of Raphael, Obedience of Gabriel, Fury of Uriel, Resoluteness of Azriel, and the Viciousness of Lucifer." he bowed his head in conclusion just as he heard something else. Foots steps across the stone. He knew he was not alone in the cathedral but he did not know who else would step up on the preist's platform. He turned his cold eyes to see who it could be. His eyes opened slightly wider, though still shaded by the brim of his hat. he had not expected to see them here.
Lennart stood. He hand clasped in front of him, head bowed before the great crucifix that hung from the ceiling. Here he was not armed. He carried no weapons for fear of disrespecting the Church. the church that had given him a second chance and new purpose. He clutched his Grandfather's old hat in his hands as he prayed. The old Nazi uniform he had worn as his badge of strength once he joined the forces of good was always on him. He had removed the insignia for they were out dated and often caused issues. Not only that, but all God's creatures were equals and the old German mad men did not believe that. It would not be proper to wear such things. However, he still wore the uniform. He had to. His weapon of the soul was his grandfather's bullet it was only right to wear the uniform. After all, his Grandfather was a hero and this uniform gave him great courage and strength.
"... Give me the strength to keep your flock, the wisdom to be a moral person, the patience to know when to act, the fortitude to hold fast with faith, and the fervor to shatter the soul of any demon I meet. Amen" Lennart took in a deep breath. He smelled the fading inscents from the mass that had just ended. it was a marvelous mass at that. It had been focused on Romans. The boook of tribulations. It had been inspiring, at least it had been to Lennart. to others of weak faith he knew they were just words. they were often not important. However, they were under the umbrella of Heaven just like those of iron faith and would not be forsaken. Lennart snapped his right hand to the side and placed his cap back over his gray shaggy hair. "Lord empower my soul with the power of Michael, the Knowledge of Raphael, Obedience of Gabriel, Fury of Uriel, Resoluteness of Azriel, and the Viciousness of Lucifer." he bowed his head in conclusion just as he heard something else. Foots steps across the stone. He knew he was not alone in the cathedral but he did not know who else would step up on the preist's platform. He turned his cold eyes to see who it could be. His eyes opened slightly wider, though still shaded by the brim of his hat. he had not expected to see them here.
