Zombies and Angels

[Extorious]

He did not know why he was there, only that he had to, he <i>must</i> advance towards the light. His feet got tangled by the damp undergrowth of the untended grave yard as he shuffled forward. He almost fell, but he held out his arms, almost as if by instinct and he righted himself, and continued to move forward, towards the light.

He could see the radiant creature at the center of the light - a young woman - as pretty a woman as he had seen before he was put into the grave. Why was he brought back, and made to go towards this woman? The woman wore armor, and two white wings, thick with feathers, rose from her back, slowly moving as she waved her arms. She had a sword, a long, gleam blade that rose and fell as the woman cried out, her long golden tresses swirling around her head. She was striking with the sword around her.

"Back to the graves!" She cried.

Am I to move towards her so that she could send me back? He thought. He saw that there were others like him, all moving and shuffling toward the woman, and that she was the center of their attention. Moth to the fire, he thought, as those who got near her fell and crumbled under her sword.

Why, he thought, why? And then suddenly he knew, there was something of hers that he wanted. Feelings, long forgotten, surged in him as he got nearer. He could almost feel his blood rushing, and his pulse pounding, as if he was no longer merely dust and earth. She could give me life again! The realization hit him as he felt the fire in his loins - sensations long forgotten - the pleasurable throbbing in his center. He suddenly knew why they were all shuffling towards her like moths to the fire - lust!

There was a flicker in the light. One of those whom she had struck down had pulled at her ankle as he fell, and had pulled her down with him. She delivered a death blow to him, but another took his place, and then another. As he got closer. he saw that she was no longer standing. His heart pounds, and the pounding of his heart in itself was a sensation he had long forgotten.

When he got to the young woman, she was no longer lashing out with her sword, but writhing on the ground, on her back, her arms and legs held, her wings folded underneath her. Hands were reaching out to unbuckle the breast plate of her armor. Hands reached out to tear at the linen material of her blouse, clawing and pulling. When the material was torn, he saw the rapid rising and falling of her naked breasts, and a sensation, like lightning, ran through his body.

He knew how all the others felt, because the sounds of needs and lust that he tried to choke out of his own voiceless throat, were answered by all those around him making the same sounds, and the air was filled with a low hum of continuous moaning from all of them as the girl was stripped.

There was a commotion close by. Heads and limbs hewn off, bodies fell. Another woman of light, and perhaps more than one, was coming to the rescue of this one. It did not signify for him, all he wanted was the one held writhing on the ground.

He shuffled forward...
((

Wanted:
Mindless Zombies (males)
Avenging Angels (females)
(lol)

needed,
if this is your cup of tea


))

 

[impish_pixie]

Nuriel

In the corner of her eye, Nuriel saw someone go down, one of her sisters had fallen. Pressed as she was by the unrelenting advancement of the deadwalkers, the warrior-angel could not spare the time it would cost her to look away, but she had to do it. She had to see who it was. She cursed under her breath, and sliced her long sword through the neck of another zombie. It was Fraciel, she was sure of it, brought down on her first time in battle against the dead.

The new ones weren't ready to face the horde, their training was too little and too short but no one listened to her. Especially not Michael, the Sword Arm of God. Where was he when the Sword of God should be swinging?

Nuriel pushed her sword through the horde with bone shattering force as she tried to concentrate on the deadwalkers in front of her, in case Fraciel’s fate became hers too. That was the Heavenly training, let your sisters fall, and let their suffering purify them, cleansing them for Renewal as their bodies are defiled. The warrior-angels were the sacrificial Children of Light.

Then she hears it, the low moan of recognition. The zombies haven’t just plucked an angel from the sky; they have discovered a use for her. Nuriel feels a hand grab her foot. She slices off the arm before removing the head; she does not waste time watching the creature fall. The horrible sound continues to fill the air, as it fills the heart of every warrior-angel. Nuriel looks for Fraciel’s squad leader but she sees only her friends Taharial and Balthial, and they are looking at her expectantly. She wants to curse again.

It has never been tried, it is against the rules, but the three will try to rescue Fraciel. They have been practicing when the others weren’t around but Nuriel is convinced although the plan is sound, they just aren’t ready.

Even if they succeed their might be Hell to pay and if they failed there definitely would be.

A few more swings then Nuriel gives the signal, and the three angels fly to the fourth. It is a dangerous, foolish plan, not even a plan, just a brave attempt to use their personal skills in a rescue attempt. It hinges on Taharial, and Balthial, Balthial has the agility to get Franciel off the ground and Taharial, whose wings are the strongest can get her to safety. Nuriel is an officer and expendable; her job is to protect the others. At all costs.

As they approach, Nuriel barks the order, “On your feet, Fraciel.” She notes with grim satisfaction that the eyes of many zombies are now on her, and her deadly sword cuts a swathe through them. Fraciel has somehow managed to pull herself to her knees; Balthial is shocked to see that one of the Sisters could be so brutalized in so short a time. Bravely, she rushes in to pull out Fraciel and save her from any addition defilement. Balthial went in too soon, Taharial wasn't ready, and she was not in position. Nuriel sees the simple plan falling apart and she follows her sisters, protecting them with her sword.

It should not have worked, it fell apart, but maybe the determination of three willful angels was enough to make the difference. The three pulled Fraciel from the hands of the deadwalkers and brought her back to the Light. Michael was not happy but there was little he could do. They were angels, not frightened mortals. Almost spitefully, he did the one thing he could, Fraciel had lost her sword and her armor, and the three were ordered to return for it.

(if you don't like it, I'll take it down or change it. Let me know, please)