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so it begins (franken!gabe)
Jun. 8th, 2012 11:26 amScience and magic were kin to each other, but distant where it counted. The balance was a careful one between the chemical reactions and formulas of men and the ancient powers of the gods, entrusted to the likes of him...eternal powers that had lived and moved long before the animal called Man was a glimmer in the eye of the Creator. For many lifetimes, Merlin used both to full advantage, rarely blending the two as one, for science was new and magic was volatile.
The world was losing its need for kings, but warriors were needed, soldiers for the light. And that was what his kind were for, the ancient ones, the Kingmakers and mages: they lived to fill a need.
He began with the idea of one body from many parts, but soon resolved to take a single body and make it incorruptible. The pauper's grave was old, perhaps a hundred years or so, the vermin having long since made a meal of the rancid flesh to leave behind a skeleton charred by fire. It was a small thing, a child's task, to return flesh to bone, but he labored for years in an effort to wipe the final scars away, without success. He could restore the body, but the horrors of its end would never come away.
When flesh and sinew were restored, Merle was pleased to find his specimen was handsome, a man blessed with distinguished features and Roman coloring. Still a corpse on a slab, Merle named him Gabriel, for like God's own herald, his birth would announce to the world that a new age was dawning.
Through the ancient will of Osiris and the chemistry of compounds injected into his blood, he would never die because of age, remain eternally young and healthy. Through the invocation of the Catholic God and the power of the saints, divinity would mend broken flesh, and careful application of the power from the skies, lightning and electricity, honed muscle tissue and endurance to a fine edge to bless living tissue with strength untold, and stamina only seen in a dozen strong, healthy men.
All that was left was to recall life itself to the dead.
The platform containing Gabriel's body sat outside in a protective circle cast at the peak of the full moon. A thunderstorm was predicted, and as it raged Merle struggled with the last of his work, a lightning rod clamped to the edge of the wood, with wires coiled at the wrists, throat, and across the broad chest to ensure the most vital pulse points and chakras would be infused with the full charge needed to restore life to the flesh.
Once done, he swept away the rainwater dripping into his face and gazed down at his creation, trussed in wire and sterile linen, waiting to be reborn. Laying a hand on its shoulder, he felt for a moment as a father might when a child is to be born.
"Creator protect us both, my son!" he called over the storm. "And may he guide you safely back to us!"
Merle hurried back into the house, door left open as he stood in the doorway, dripping on his own floor, and waited.
An hour later, the thunder and lightning began to draw closer. An hour after that, it was all but on top of them.
One hour after that, a bolt of lightning finally gave its life-giving power to the corpse outside.
The world was losing its need for kings, but warriors were needed, soldiers for the light. And that was what his kind were for, the ancient ones, the Kingmakers and mages: they lived to fill a need.
He began with the idea of one body from many parts, but soon resolved to take a single body and make it incorruptible. The pauper's grave was old, perhaps a hundred years or so, the vermin having long since made a meal of the rancid flesh to leave behind a skeleton charred by fire. It was a small thing, a child's task, to return flesh to bone, but he labored for years in an effort to wipe the final scars away, without success. He could restore the body, but the horrors of its end would never come away.
When flesh and sinew were restored, Merle was pleased to find his specimen was handsome, a man blessed with distinguished features and Roman coloring. Still a corpse on a slab, Merle named him Gabriel, for like God's own herald, his birth would announce to the world that a new age was dawning.
Through the ancient will of Osiris and the chemistry of compounds injected into his blood, he would never die because of age, remain eternally young and healthy. Through the invocation of the Catholic God and the power of the saints, divinity would mend broken flesh, and careful application of the power from the skies, lightning and electricity, honed muscle tissue and endurance to a fine edge to bless living tissue with strength untold, and stamina only seen in a dozen strong, healthy men.
All that was left was to recall life itself to the dead.
The platform containing Gabriel's body sat outside in a protective circle cast at the peak of the full moon. A thunderstorm was predicted, and as it raged Merle struggled with the last of his work, a lightning rod clamped to the edge of the wood, with wires coiled at the wrists, throat, and across the broad chest to ensure the most vital pulse points and chakras would be infused with the full charge needed to restore life to the flesh.
Once done, he swept away the rainwater dripping into his face and gazed down at his creation, trussed in wire and sterile linen, waiting to be reborn. Laying a hand on its shoulder, he felt for a moment as a father might when a child is to be born.
"Creator protect us both, my son!" he called over the storm. "And may he guide you safely back to us!"
Merle hurried back into the house, door left open as he stood in the doorway, dripping on his own floor, and waited.
An hour later, the thunder and lightning began to draw closer. An hour after that, it was all but on top of them.
One hour after that, a bolt of lightning finally gave its life-giving power to the corpse outside.
