The Order of the Forsaken

*Set after the events of the main "Crisis:Earth" story* *READ #2 in "C:E" INTRO FIRST!" Something has driven a mysterious man to build an army and charge the gates of the Forbidden City.

[Prologue]
Many centuries ago, Earth thrived. Trees grew to the sky, our oceans and rivers flowed freely. That would all change in the years leading to the Exodus. The day the Earth went dark. Life was typical for most, working, playing, enjoying a relatively carefree life. Humans would however learn of their detrimental behavior. Millenias of pollution, overpopulation and war ravaged the planet, rendering it uninhabitable. They sent hundreds of unmanned shuttles out into the galaxy, searching for a planet able to sustain life. Many years passed and when the time came for the sky to fall, and the planet to die. Earth was nearly abandoned. Humans settled on a planet in a far away star cluster on a planet they dubbed “Cerberus”. Waves of humans arrived years apart, giving them no choice but to settle where they landed, thus beginning their long forging of a new life.
 
In the early years of the humans arrival on the Exo-planet Cerberus, the probability of assimilation and long term survival gave the human travelers a feeling of hope, a feeling they hadn't experienced since Earth was evacuated decades earlier. The human migration was deemed successful as they began to colonize their new home planet, quickly establishing territory for development. However, in the midst of the colonization, the humans faced another threat of extinction. The emergence of the planet's native inhabitants revealed the humans were not welcome. Percieving the colonization as an invasion, the natives fiercely protected their home. Humanity, once recovering from a crippling disaster, faced another seemingly imminent demise. As the Natives relentlessly attacked human colonies, humans were left with no choice but to arm themselves and fight back. Conventional weapons were ineffective against the native's tough exoskeleton and superior physical abilities, forcing the humans to seek extreme measures. In response to the native aggression, human scientists devised a plan to genetically modify soldiers, in an attempt to dissuade the constant threat of attacks.
 
The emergence of the FIEND Company's (Federal Institution of Evolutionary and Natural Development) program, the "Evolved Man Project", brought hope to the humans once again. The genetically enhanced soldiers, known as FIENDS, would serve as the sentinels of humanity providing settlements with adequate protection from hostile native aggression. Expanding beyond their successful prototype the "Angel", the founders of the "Evolved Man" realized the potential profit from the military market and branched out to the rest of the human colonies.
. With the development of fiends becoming more refined, Sector Militaries where given a plethora of subjects to choose. For identification purposes, each fiend was given a codename specific to their physical attributes and basic genetic composition. Soon each Sector had two  types of their own "designer soldiers", the original type of their choosing and its respective counterpart.
After  years of fighting for survival, the humans were finally allowed to thrive and rebuild their lives. By convincing the Human Council that the project was discontinued and the company would only act as an environmental and agricultural research and development facility, the "Evolved Man" continued to operate in secrecy. Decades after the war, humans learned of the atrocious and inhumane practices of the  FIEND company during the "EMP" and the company was sanctioned for crimes against humanity by the Council. Facing harsh restitution settlements along with all of their "EMP" data confiscated and destroyed, the company was disassembled and sold to cover the losses.
 
The Archetypes 
The Archetype Fiends, powerful genetically modified humans, injected with a synthesized variant of Native DNA. They became pinnacle of evolution, however the large concentrated doses of genetic serum made the Archetypes unstable and unpredictable. After the decommission of the FIEND Company, the Archetypes were placed in stasis pods and securely stored within the various seized underground FIEND facilities, deemed "too valuable" to destroy.
 
Generations passed following the collapse of FIEND, allowing decommissioned soldiers a chance to assimilate their genetic modifications into the general population and as the fiend genome was bred throughout generations, the mutations became more stable and consistent. Expanding civil developments led to the inevitable demolition of the long forgotten storage facilities. Demolition of the facilities released the Archetypes from their stasis, and after several congressional hearings they were allowed access to rehabilitation and modern assimilation programs. Most of the Archetypes refused to interlope, secluding themselves in the vast wilderness of Cerberus. Others suffered severe psychological trauma and became combative, self destructive, and unpredictably volatile. Instances  of their unpredictability were witnessed, as countless casualties and ruin were left in the wake of an Archetype's psychotic breakdown, increasing the mistrust of the dangerous Archetypes. 
 
At first Archetypes were captured, and contained for research and development purposes, but the day would come when they could no longer be allowed to roam free. Soon the they were being hunted. The fear of the Archetypes raged out of control leading to an inevitable mass extinction. To prevent the total liquidation of the precious Archetypal genome, An elite collection of fiends was covertly assembled with one fiend-type from each class. The twelve elects, known only as the Unseen, secretly captured and imprisoned an Archetype of each class, looking to capitalize on the soon to be extinct DNA strains. The stasis prisons were then scattered amongst the fiend strongholds where they lie dormant.
 
Faction Wars: "The Order of the Forsaken"
 
[Virtue, Beta]
 The sun sets over the skyline. The metropolis, glowing in the purple and orange hue, glistens against the faces of the bustling citizens. Two moons slowly approach their twilight mount from opposite directions, emitting a breathtaking sea of lights in the sky, in a true Virtue dusk. As the sunlight wanes, the silhouette of Honor shimmers, bidding it's sister city a goodnight, with a kiss from the heavens. Dusk passes into night, with the twin full moons peering fondly at the quieting city. 
 
Under the bright turquoise moonlight, a pair of red eyes emerge. Soon another pair joins, and another ember red set of eyes. Demons. 
The people of Virtue have become all too familiar with the Demon FIEND type. The monster lurking in the shadow, a bizarre creature bathed in horrid agony, possessed by the will of the Devil himself. As the safety of daylight retreats, so do the humans of Virtue, for they know, the Demons dwell where the sun does not.
 
The glowing moons bathe a figure in an ethereal haze, his body steaming in the cool night air, his trench coat gently waving in he breeze. His casual stroll in the twilight, warns others of his intent, his need, and addiction to chaos. As he slips in and out of the darkness, he's soon accompanied by another. A young woman, alabaster skin catching the light of the moons, glows softly as she quietly follows the man in the coat.
 
The two sinister silhouettes serpentine through the buildings and alleyways, red eyes shimmering off of the city lights. They approach a decrepit, decaying forest. The dense forest seems to swallow all ambient light, permeating the landscape with a darkness no mere lantern can combat.
As the pair move through the decomposing forest, their glowing eyes are met by a circle of piercing stares, and low guttural snarls.
 
As the two approach the circle, the snarls and hisses subside. From the darkness, a voice echoes, "So pleasant for you to join us.", something in the darkness stirs. From an archaic, petrified tree trunk, the voice calls out to those gathered, " Enter." The booming voice, and it's burning crimson eyes slice through the blackness of the forest, as the ancient tree trunk splits and candlelight reaches out to the group.
 
The derelict party shuffles through the massive trunk, gathering in the center of a dimly lit foyer. Candlelight splashes off of their pale faces as they sit. From the depths the voice calls again, "My brothers and sisters, I can see most of you are confused, some are afraid. I can tell you this now, do not fear this congregation." A man steps into the center of the room, "You have been gathered here, because I see your potential. I've watched each one of you sitting before me, quietly admired your growth, as I would my own children." The man gazes across the room, locking eyes with every Demon in the room. "I am called Paimon.  I, just like you, am a Demon." He sits on the floor, next to a young Demon, gently placing a hand on his shoulder as he continues to monologue, "I have requested your presence, to discuss a proposition." Paimon surges to his feet, candlelight swirling, casting his shadow maniacally across the room. "Tonight, we shall unify, as the first Demon coven! We are the b*****d spawn of this wretched eon, the children of the abyss, those abandoned by the light, driven mad at the hands of our own creation." He softly chuckles as he notices the intrigued looks of his guests, "We were damned in this life, forsaken to bear the burden of the beast." Paimon's voice booms, causing the light of the flames to flicker. Feeling the surge of adrenaline in the room, his chest swells with pride as a sharp and wicked smile tears across his face, "Tonight, we are no longer the dogs, hunted by our Angellic predecessors. We are no longer the filthy patrons of the night sky! Tonight! I declare, we are the Order of the Forsaken!" His eyes swirl with madness, as a shackle from around his waist groans. The candlelight burns brighter as his energy increases. The lair, hidden within the putrid tree, rattles. "Join me," he whispers, "Join me tonight and we shall free our ancient brother from the depths of the Angelic prison! Then we shall take the City of Angels, and claim it in the name of the Fallen!" Breathing heavily, Paimon leans against the mantle, his creaking bondage begins to stifle.
 
"I accept your offer." A demon from the circle declares proudly, standing before Paimon with a hand on his chest.
"I accept your offer." Another demon proclaims, bowing to Paimon. One after another, the demons stand and declare their allegiance, proudly embracing their new destiny.
 
Paimon places a hand on his chest and bows, " Then so be it, my children. Let us charge onward, into the homes of our enemies. We shall pluck the wings of the Angels, who have hunted us for centuries. We shall sink their precious island and raise the City of Salvation under a new banner. We shall crush the body of every Angel and rip our new home, the Island of the Forsaken, from the bloody, gasping claws of the Angellic High Council!" His war cry bellows through the forest as the shackle across his chest bursts open,his new found disciples bellowing a Demonic war chant, howling into the night sky in a fiery declaration of war. 
 
 
[Honor, Beta- 5yr recollection segment] (Hierarchy of the Order) The night of initiation Piamon broke free from one of his many bindings, proving to his disciples and enemies alike, he was not one to be trifled with. The Order rapidly expanded into a fearsome demon clan, with secret chapters spanning the nations, seething in the darkness, awaiting the call of their leader and father. The following years after the inauguration of the Order, the first coven of Demons successfully begin their assault on the Angelic Council. Led by the now notorious Piamon the Blood-Drenched, the Order quickly became a threat to the Angel population, with their twisted guerrilla style tactics, ambushing and slaughtering Angels by the dozen. Piamon taught his children his ways of Demonic war, pushing them beyond their limits, forcing them to grow smarter and stronger. I'm some cases, Piamon pushed his strongest disciples to break free of a low level angelic binding. As the coven grew from a small clan of one powerful Demon leader and his nine relatively young and inexperienced understudies, to an organized network of demon clans flying the banner of the Order of Forsaken, establishing a universal hierarchy amongst the coven became a necessity. Piamon gathered and sat with the many clan leaders, and together they constructed a manuscript. They called their collection of coven hierarchy, law, tact, and knowledge, "The Unhallowed Athenaeum". Every new Demon of the Order was relentlessly trained in the knowledge of the Athenaeum, written by the greatest Demon leaders the FIEND program ever produced. By teaching the ways of the coven to the new Demon transitioners, officially ranked as "Children", clan leaders were able to quell the primitive, and visceral instincts and replaced them with guile, prowess, charisma, and superior tact. As the Children advanced, so did their ranking within clan and coven alike. Hierarchical advancement provided the Children with incentive to become superior, and excell beyond their predecessors. Once a Child singlehandedly killed an Angel in combat, they were granted the title of "Hunter". The Hunter class' main focus was stealth and guerrilla combat. By luring eager battle hungry Angels to a swift and silent death, Hunter's became an integral component in coven strike teams. In the event of a Hunter expelling an article of Angelic binding, they became known as "Breakers". Due to the surge of negated demonic energy repressed by the bindings Breakers would slightly revert to their primitive Demonic nature for a short period, until they acclimated. On the battlefield, a newly liberated Breaker is a truly formidable opponent. Augmented by the flood of demonic essence, Breakers, however feral from regression maintained their principles of combat. Battle hardened Breakers, gained the rank of Infernal Knights, once they were able to successfully lead strike teams to multiple victories. As leaders in battle, the Knights use their exquisite knowledge of the Athenaeum's combat discipline to overcome any Angelic opposition with vicious guile and relentless tenacity. Eventually clans became one, united under the flag of the Order, cascading the prelation of total victory and the subjugation of Avalon. The covens echelon system had proven its pertinence on and off of the battlefield, providing the coven leaders with a chain of command. Coven houses were delegated by appointed dignitaries, voted into position by the collected houses of the Order. The lowest appointed title was the Harbinger. The Harbinger acted as an emissary between houses, relaying information, battle plans, and covenant synergism. The Harbinger answers to the house Luminary. Luminaries acted as official "assistant-leader" of the house, responsible for drafting strategy, military correspondence, and minor delegation of procedure. House leaders, known as Primes. report directly to the Coven Paramount, Piamon the Blood-drenched, attending congressional advents, establishing coven agenda, devising battle tactics, and governing their respective houses.
 
[Present Day- Alpha]
 
The mighty Forsaken Order army marches toward the southern coast of Alpha. The perilous journey to victory was fast approaching. The ruthless Piamon, The Blood-Drenched leading his loyal family to their deaths, for the sake of the Demon species. For months he'd sent many Harbingers to search for the hidden tomb of the fabled demon Archetype known only as The Keeper. Finally a young Harbinger by the name of Vonte is seen on the horizon. Piamon calls the brigade to a halt. As the Demon army sets camp, Piamon leads Vonte to his command tent. Clutching the severed head of the Angel Warrior Oran, Vonte eagerly presents his findings along with the head of the Angel as tribute to his leader. "I see your skills haven't faultered in your time as a Harbinger," Piamon hisses a quiet chuckle, "Well hello, Oran, so nice to see you again." He chuckles softly again looking up at Vonte, "So my Child, what news do you bring me?"
Vonte, pats down his House uniform stiffening up before bowing, "Father, I encountered the Angelic Scribe in the north desert, it appears he was transferring Angelic texts to a hidden vault." He pauses, reaching into his bag, "As the Athenaeum says, I remained unseen as I followed, until we reached the Library." He smiles a wicked smile, ", although Oran was a worthy adversary, my blade stayed true to me."
Piamon, growing impatient sighs, "Yes, Yes, child, save the debrief for your Prime, what did you bring me?" He snarls. "Well, Father," he stammers, "I had little time to explore the library, but I grabbed what I could carry," he smirks looking over at the severed head. From his bag, Vonte pulls three archaic books of Angel text and places them on the desk next to the head, "these books did not hold the secrets you wished to find," he bows his head in shame as the Paramount glares menacingly, "However,  I did find a passage in one of them, that may prove very useful to you." He bows again. 
Piamon's glare softens as his curiosity peers through his weathered face, "very well, bring me the book." He mumbles, curious, yet disappointed. Vonte draws his Harbinger dagger, "no need, my father, I know the passages." He gloats, Piamon's eyes roll,"My child, you test my patience." He says rubbing his temples. "My apologies Father," Vonte bows yet again then grabs Oran's head from the desk, "the passage contains an angelic necrom rite for interrogating slain enemies, on my voyage back, I translated it into a demonic rite."  He lays the angel head on the table, and begins chanting, "omnis a mortis, resurgure! Ego duce! Omnis a mortis resurgure! EGO DUCE!" He yells, plunging his dagger into the Angel's forehead. Oran's eyes tear open immediately, his spirit awoken from the abyss. "Oran the Scribe of the Angels, I bind your pitiful spirit to your fallen vessel! Answer my inquisitions and I shall set you free!" Vonte's voice booms, Piamon can't help but to be impressed. Oran gasps for air, unable to fill the lungs he does not have. "Where is the Keeper!?" Vonte probes, firmly gripping his blade. Oran gasps and sputters, but does not respond. "ORAN SCRIBE TO THE ANGELS, I BIND YOUR PITIFUL SPIRIT TO YOUR FALLEN VESSEL! ANSWER MY INQUIRIES AND I SHALL SET YOU FREE! IGNORE MY COMMANDS AND I WILL BIND YOUR PITIFUL SPIRIT TO YOUR FALLEN VESSEL INDEFINITELY! WHERE IS THE KEEPER?!" Vonte's face burns with indignation, his bindings rattle beneath his cloak, "WHERE IS THE KEEPER ORAN?!" He booms again.
Oran blinks, still gasping and sputtering,"A...va....l..lon..." he groans, as tears run down his face. Piamon's face lights up with joy as Vonte closes the ritual, "Oran, reddo ad mortis. Tu spiritus requiscat a pace!", Oran's eyes close, tears running down his cheeks as Vonte withdraws his blade. There's a brief silence as Piamon's pride peeks through his aged face. The silence is broken by a faint clang . "Vonte, I believe that was a binding that just snapped. Congratulations my child. I shall see to it personally that you will become the next Prime of your House." Vonte reaches under his cloak and removes the broken bondage, stunned silent. He musters a few words of gratitude, as he staggers out of the Paramounts tent. 
 
The night passes and the War Party resumes their march to the coast. As Piamon takes point, he can hardly believe he'll soon be knocking on the High Exalted Angel's front door. The satisfaction consumes him for a moment as he recalls his intimate training of his unwavering legion. He recalls every child's ascension to hunters,breakers, and Knights, taking the children on their first Coven hunts, teaching them what it means to be a True Demon. Days pass as the Coven finally reaches the sea, where Coven Portmasters have the fleet of Carriers ready for departure. His chest fills with pride as he hails every demon that boards. Soon he will have his victory. Victory in the name of Demons. As the carriers draw near the anchor chains of Avalon the mighty army led by Piamon the Blood-Drenched, the tension becomes palpable. The legion of Infernal Knights stand, ready as ever to die for their brothers and sisters of the coven. The carriers anchor to the chains, and the army begins their ascent into Avalon.
 
Beyond the gates of Avalon, a trumpet bellows, echoing into the distance. The Exalted Guardians fall into position, ready to intercept the Demon advance, and protect the island with their lives. Piamon stands at the gate, chanting with his family of warriors, preparing to breach into the city. With one final cry, the Knights of the Order charge full force behind their leader. The gate crashes with a thunderous rumble as Andelic blades clash against Demonic axes. Piamon, always leading by example, takes point , slashing down the Exalted with every swing of his blade. The battle drags on into the night, the strength of the Exalted Guardians prove too mighty for the Knights, as they begin to fall one by one. Piamon readies himself for his final act of treachery. Drawing a casting circle at his feet he begins chanting, as his faithful children meet their gruesome deaths at the hands of the Angels. Piamon's intensifying chant resonates over the booming combat, and the wails of his once beloved children. The clouds begin to shift and stir as the air fills with the stench of blood. 
 
Atop Avalonian Tower, the High Exalted observes the battle, content with his soldiers display of superiority. As he scans across the melee he notices Piamon. He focuses on the Demon Paramount, processing what he sees. Suddenly the High Exalted's blood runs cold, "Oh no!" He shouts, grabbing his pike and leaping from the tower. Charging full force he shouts commands at his soldiers, "GET THE PARAMOUNT!", but his cries fall on deaf ears as his soldiers continue to punish the demon upheaval. As the High Exalted barrels through the lines his eyes lock with the insidious stare of Piamon, who continues his feverish chanting. The High Exalted has mere feet to get the Paramount within reach of his mighty pike, but those mere feet prove too great of a distance as  the deck of Avalon gets bombarded with searing red lightning. Piamon utters one last defiant cackle in the face of the Angel King, as he finishes his chants. Locking eyes, in a display of blatant animosity, the Paramount, Piamon the Blood-Drenched, father of the Order of the Forsaken, drags his dagger across his throat, splitting it wide. Witnessing the apparent surrender of their leader, the remaining demon Knights abandon their quest for redemption, surrendering to the crushing blows of the Angelic Guardsmen. 
 The High Exalted rushes to the bleeding body of the once mighty Piamon, knowing what he has done. He knew in his heart when Oran was killed, the demons would find anything they could get their claws on to turn the tides of battle. He frantically tries to stop the bleeding, to interrupt the ritual, almost completed. He knows this is his only chance to stop the horror of the demon Archetype, The Keeper from resurrection. Piamon looks up into the Angel Kings eyes, cackling and gurgling blood, mere moments away from being reborn as the Demon-God, possessed by the spirit of The Archetype. Lightning flashes nonstop, striking Angel and demon corpses. The King of Avalon has moments to make his decision. Tearing a relic from around his neck and shoving it into the mouth of the dying Paramount, he lifts the limp, gangly body, draped in his golden, blood soaked tunic and without hesitation, steps off of Avalonon, falling to his death, along side the now bound, and dead, Piamon.
 
In the midst of lightning and death the Angels gather at the edge of Avalon, and kneel, to pay their respects for the last time.
 
Quietly, a demon's corpse shifts, and stands.
 However it isn't a corpse, nor a demon. The illusion of rotting demonic flesh fades into a mourning angel, as he slips unnoticed beyond the gates, and up to the tower of the Angelic Vault. He chuckles as he steps into the massive vault, his angelic illusion fades revealing him to be a Djinn. He swiftly grabs an urn from a shelf and with a quick inspection, the Djinn, is gone.

Author's Note

Grammar and syntax errors are inevitable! Heads up!