You are Never Alone in What you Do

Without explanation the Master pulled from his jacket a pouch of mixed herbs and handed it over emphatically to the grateful Fey, adding then, an enormous hug of hello. He then said telepathically:

"Think now of the good men and women, the Fey and the Angels, that each work for this cause - of all of these dear ones, who with Adepts, Saints and Prophets, support you, and this, our World.

"We will not fail, for Life itself is on our task - and it is only those who have chosen the dark path of Death who must perish by the very forces that they themselves do conjure.

"But for those who pledge themselves to the greater compassion, there are allies true, who stretch back in time to protect them evermore. You are never alone in what you do."

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

'Cleansing' Tonic from a Small Crystal Bottle

"Robin!" a voice echoed up from beneath, "hold your stride, I am coming up."

A moment later his mentor was standing beside him. He was spritzing his face and arms with a 'cleansing' tonic from a small crystal bottle. He finished by giving a slight spray to Puck's face, which caught him in the eye.

"Refreshing, eh?" he boomed, trying to be heard amidst the screaming.

Then added: "You look terrible my boy - just terrible."
Well it was true that Puck had not cut his hair in some days, and it dangled waist long, curls and all. He had not rested or meditated either, and his face had only just turned ashen.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series 

Into the Eighth Sphere

Puck had called to Paracelsus several times telepathically hoping that he would be able to avoid passing down into this Eighth Sphere to find him ... but it perhaps it was that the preoccupied mind had blocked his message and could not receive him.

He would have wished at the very least to have an escort, but could not see any of the winged apes around to help.

He came to the rope ladder that trailed down the side and into the abyss. Although thick and wiry it was worn and showed signs of quite possibly giving way. He started to tremble for this was a face of Humanity he cared not to look at. An optimist at heart, he could not endure decrepitude.

Stepping closer he peered over, listening to the wailing that was rising from the distance below. He turned back quickly, forgiving himself his failure - with his nerves giving way to a new change of plan.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

One Door Out

There were parts to Hell that even the bravest would not willingly venture into - ephemeral and undisclosed, with occupants bereft of their humanity, held in a place that is shrouded with screeching phantoms and populated with the excrement of wraiths.

There is one door out, yet all are incapable of finding it - and now await the deportation from the family of Man that they have used so sorely and stolen from.

It was here that Paracelsus would go - to study and help where possible. His charity glowed amongst their fetid space and the warm light he emanated only seemed to cause them difficulty. Even a kind word stung greatly as they were living an existence that perceived everything as being back-to-front and inside-out. Misery became pleasure and happiness caused aggravation.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

Counterfeit Beings

But the Generals of Phoenix were a far bolder and bigger variety.

They were organised and cunning, seeking to inhabit bodies themselves that they could engage in with the world. They were 'evolved' and in spirit these demons were known as Vampyres.

You see, when a body dies, the soul inhabiting that body lifts up and out and moves onto higher plains, disconnecting itself far from it.

Sometimes and only rarely, it may happen that the corpse itself, without a soul any longer, is inspired to keep on living after having deceased - and it is at this point where the stronger of the demonic beings can inhabit them fully.

These are the Vampyres, who as before are still given to find their sustenance from the vitality of others - from living human beings - for even with the body of a hijacked corpse they cannot regenerate normally or receive the life force ordinarily into themselves.

Vampyres might appear to be the person that the body once cradled and would want you to believe this of them - but they are only counterfeit beings. The spirit who birthed that body has long gone and is free of their evil contamination. It is only in fiction that they take on the originating persona, and although imbibed with the residual memories and behaviours, it is simply a parasite within, and not a soul.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series 

Certain Freedoms were Holy

Puck could never see the point of anyone wanting to own the World; but throughout the ages he had watched quite a few aspire to it; littering countries with death and upset to achieve their end desire.

Perhaps it was merely a sickness after all - just like any other illness of delusion - only it was cleverly convincing and with devastating consequence, when others were taken by their visions.

He knew too, that certain freedoms were holy, and that corruptions seeking to disable men could only be the prize of demons, who with their jealousies enjoyed the chaos that they caused.

He had always thought that they (the demons) were not much to look at - with their clamour and grope, ever-present at accidents, overdoses and orgies - feeding from the energies expired there, inciting more to come.

For the demons have no life of their own and so they obsess after the mortals fanatically.

The Fey won't tolerate them and just brush them away - for most are as small as your hand.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

An Iron Grip

Like so many ideologies before them, WAR had become the exact reverse for all it had said and stood for.

It now held an iron grip worldwide on its people: owning personal and very particular information via tracking, banking, sickness and medication histories, distributing through their International Pharmaceutical company, Paypill.

WAR imprinted the lives of two-thirds of the overall population, and held a massive five hundred million in prison farm factories, who supplied their empire daily.

Perhaps none of this would have mattered so much had it not been for the political arrests and property seizures from conversants who were monitored through email, Tracebook and the game itself. Any dissent - even a suggestive cartoon shared - was considered ambivalent, and therefore dangerous to society.

Added to this, suicides were increasing. No one knew why. Statistics stopped being published after the figure tripled within a decade - and the public were told that for the sake of privacy these numbers would from now on be sealed.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series