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Enoch

A simple man. An aura of protection.

0 · 186 views · located in Jincai

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Tejas

Groups

The legion of Angels under the command of the God of Israel

Description

The man called Enoch (he gives no surname, even when asked) is a lone wanderer in the many lands that are Terra. He has recently been seen within the walls of Wing City, though few have taken notice. He is rather tall for a human (if that is what he truly is), standing at nearly seven feet tall. His frame, on the other hand is frighteningly thin, and does not portray the unnatural strength he possesses. Anyone who speaks with him will likely find themselves offended by his manner, as he seems to look upon most as being lesser, or perhaps not deserving of his full attention. Children, on the other hand, never escape his gaze, and he defends them with an almost feral demeanor. Despite the many people of the world who carry weapons of the modern age (guns, grenades, and the like), Enoch bears only an unadorned and heavily worn broadsword, which he carries in a hard scabbard across his back. If one were to disregard his blade, one might mistake him for a street bum, dressed in dirty, worn blue jeans, plain button-up shirt, and an equally worn brown trenchcoat.

(To those who truly know him, ally and enemies alike, he is the Archangel Metatron, patron angel of children)

Personality

Despite his ragged appearance, he is a very bold sort, open with his opinions and quick to anger when pressed. He does not care to remain still for very long, though he will do so if he believes it is the necessary course.

Equipment

badly worn clothes consisting of;
dirty blue jeans,
button-up shirt (once was white),
brown trenchcoat

weapons;
a notched and unadorned broadsword (Until called upon, at which point it becomes a blade of the finest shining steel, the weapon called "Spes Vitae".

History

Archangel Metatron;

Metatron is a fiery, energetic angel who has a special place in his heart for children, especially those who are spiritually gifted. After the Exodus, Metatron led the children of Israel through the wilderness and onto safety. He continues to lead children today, both on earth and in heaven. Unity, education and truth. Becomes vicious and violent in the defense of children. Owning your own power. Patron Angel of Small Children.

So begins...

Enoch's Story

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Enoch towers in the doorway, his tall thin frame leaving an almost phantom-like shadow on the floor before him. His piercing blue eyes seem to glow with an internal fire, self-assured and confidant. He speaks to no one, but his mere presence seems to exude an aura of holiness, despite the ragged appearance of his clothes. He sniffs the air and wrinkles his nose slightly before moving toward the bar, long strides making it appear as though he nearly floats across the room.

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Enoch felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, giving him warning that something was near, something . . . beyond mortal power. He sniffed the air again, and he frowned. Turning around quickly enough that his dirty brown trenchcoat swirled around him, he laid eyes on the one who had just entered.

"You!" he practically barked, his voice deep with and ethereal quality. "Who are you, boy? Speak quickly, now."

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Enoch sensed the boy's hesitation, even if he hadn't already seen it in his face.

"Simon . . ." he repeated, his voice lingering in the air.

His eyes seemed to glow faintly for an instant, the blue hue becoming almost spell-binding, then faded back to a normal luminescence. A deep breath of satisfaction.

"Tell me, Simon," he intoned, "Who are you, that you possess such a relic of power?"

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Enoch kept his hand at his sides, making no move to examine either the necklace or the dagger.

"You should take greater pains to keep that out of sight," he instructed the boy. "Others might seek to possess it. Others who are no so deserving as yourself. For now, put the blade away. It is yours by more than simple coincidence."

He leaned forward slightly, giving the young man a bow from the shoulders. His motion caused the blade in his scabbard to rattle softly as it shifted. When he straightened again, there was the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

"You are more than you know. And you will need to prove that to yourself, as much to others, in the days to come. It will be hard. But you are not alone."

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Enoch reached out to take hold of the phone, his grip threatening to crush the receiver. He looked at Simon wearily. "Are you expecting a call, boy?'

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Enoch released the phone and listened carefully as the young man spoke into it. The question that was directed at him, caused him to look at Shiroko, regarding him with a measure of disdain.

"No," that ethereal voice rumbled. "I do not know of this . . . Samadama." He ran the name together, as though he didn't quite understand the purpose of a surname.

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Enoch suddenly sensed a new aura, not quite evil, but not far removed from it. He sniffed the air, then looked directly at the ebon-skinned Zelanui. He gaze was one that could have withered the soul, his blue eyes glowing faintly once more.

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Enoch looks at Zelanui in the instant before the dagger struck him. Or should have struck him.

The blade froze in the air, inches from Enoch's throat, unable to travel further. Without haste and without worry, the man takes the dagger by the hilt, then drops it to the floor.

"Curb thy impulses, child of evil," he speaks directly to the dark elf. "I shall not always be patient and understanding, nor shall the Father."

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Enoch takes hold of the boy and pulls back away from the middle of the room.

"Watch yourself, boy. Distance yourself from the abomination."

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Enoch moves toward the fireplace, drawing close to the boy. He kneels by him.

"Listen closely, Simon. There will be trials. But you will be protected. I must go, but I will leave my blessings with you. Should you be call, my power will protect you."

He lay a single palm atop the boy's head and a rush of energy fled from his touch to the young man. Enoch's eyes dimmed drastically for a few seconds, and he took a staggered breath to steady himself.

"Be . . . be careful," he said, his voice sounding drawn and tired. "Be cautious. Do you understand?"

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Enoch slowly rose to his feet, obviously weary. His steps were equally slow as he moved away from the fireplace and toward the doorway. As he passed by the commotion, the ruckus caused by the phone received no attention from him. And the last he was seen, his towering, thin frame was shadowing the door.

Then he was gone.

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Enoch entered through the back way, his long coat snagging against a nail in the doorframe. The material tore a bit, then came loose, but Enoch noticed none of it. His attention was on the room, watching carefully for enemies of the Father.

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Enoch fought himself, trying not to allow his true form to break free. Here, he was human, so far as they knew. It wasn't time to show his nature. But the audacity of the creature before him . . .

It was more than he could bear.

A great and terrible roar echoed from him, rattling the boards of the floor and cracking the panes of the windows. A sudden light threatened to blind all those present and it enveloped Enoch so that he was hidden from sight for long seconds that seemed to drag by. When finally the light subsided, he stood forth in all his glory, white hair trailing down and blowing every which way even without any wind. His face was radiant with energy and his piercing blue eyes were ablaze with fury. The battered blade that he carried now shone as perfect steel, the sword called Spes Vitae.

"HOW DARE YOU!" his voice boomed through the chamber. "HOW DARE THEE SHOW THY FACE, OH BETRAYER OF SOULS! THOU TELLER OF LIES! THE MASTER HAS DEPARTED FROM US, FOR SHE CAN NO LONGER BEAR THE SIGHT OF THE WORLD!"

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Enoch knew not why the villainous Sirad wept, but it had no effect on his wrath. The Father was gone, leaving the Voice of God with no God for whom to speak. Metatron, as he was now revealed, felt himself betrayed by Sirad, abandoned by the Father, and sorely wounded by the fallacies of mankind. The creature that wept here would be an object of hatred, if an angel of God could carry such an emotion.

"Why hast thou done this thing," he demanded of her. "Why hast thou torn apart all that Yahweh has created? Why hast thou taken everything given thee and cast it aside as so much chaff in the wind? Have you no honor even in your Fall?"

He lifted the blade in his hand, wanting so terribly to bring it to bear against the Traitor. But something stayed his hand, he knew not what . . .

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Enoch strained to move his blade, but could not. Something inside him held him back.

"What is this foolishness, Sirad? Thou hast descended to the lowest depths of depravity, and yet, thou wouldst have me believe that this travesty if not of thy making? Dost thou truly believe me to be so gullible as that?"

"And what of this Demon Prince?" he directed the question to the other woman. "Thou claim to no longer control those who Fell? Wouldst thou also have me believe that thou would let the Kingdom be, were thou given the chance to conquer?"

"SPEAK!" he commanded. "REVEAL THY NATURE, FIEND!"

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Enoch staggered backward several steps, as though he'd been physically struck. The information they'd given seemed so absurd, so unbelievably out there. And yet . . . it had that damning ring of truth to it, and he couldn't shake the feeling that they were, for the moment, being completely and brutally honest with him.

He sank to one knee, using Spes Vitae as a staff to hold himself upright. His eyes went toward the sky.

"My Father," he whispered pleadingly, "why didst Thou not tell me such? Ever have I been Thy servant, faithful and enduring. Have I, in some way, given Thee cause to lose favor in Thy sight?"

The angel was close to tears, and his voice carried great anguish, the likes of which would cause the hearts of mortals to fail utterly. Even the sound of his plea was enough to make any mortals present to weep.

"I have failed . . ." he softly cried.

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Enoch shied away from the touch of the woman Eve. Though they might need to band together, his position was still among the Holy and the Faithful, and he would not let himself be tainted by her touch.

He regarded Sirad and her words with sorrow. "Therein lies the trouble. For there will be more blood. Before the end, the earth will be red. It is worse than you know, for the Gates not only have been destroyed. The entire Kingdom has been desecrated and laid to waste. If ever we are to end this war, then this will grow worse by the day, nay, by the hour."

"Hell hath enlarged itself."

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Enoch looked to the boy, then to Sirad, suddenly wary.

"Take care when addressing the boy, demon. The Father may have departed, but I shall not be lax in my duties. I will defend the boy to my dying breath. If he is to be trained, it will not be at thy hand. Thou are not worthy."

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Enoch made the enormous effort to rise to his feet once more.

"Bring me to this Sarah Lightblade," he stated. "I would the one who will see to the training of our savior. If we are to succeed in saving what is left of this world and the one above, then it is imperative that we work together for as long as needed. In this, I shall stay my sword from thee until our task is done."

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Enoch gave pause to the thought of placing the boy at risk. This path was fraught with peril, and the boy might very well perish in the attempt. But, could he allow the fate of one boy to stand in the way of hope for all the children of earth?

The idea threatened to tear his heart in twain. How could he choose between the two paths?

He went to the boy and knelt before him.

"Simon," he said, his ethereal voice rumbling softly, comfortingly. It was the first time that he had used the boy's name. "Thine is the choice. I cannot not make it, even were it mine to make. The trials that lay before thee are hard. And I would not ask it of thee if there were any other way."

"Canst thou lend thyself to this task, to train to be the holiest of warriors and the bringer of peace? Wilt thou bring an end to this tragedy?"

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Enoch wished there was another way to do this, but every moment spent explaining and trying to convince the lad (who lacked the pertinent information) was bringing them closer to the edge of no hope at all. He drew a slow breath and looked Simon in the eyes. Reaching forward, he placed the palm of his hand against the boy's forehead and spoke, transcending past words and their mistakable meanings. He relied on thought itself to be his voice.

He shuddered as the images of the Heavenly Gates were transmitted to the boy's mind, the memory of the once-glorious city of Heaven now lying in ruins. The indescribable horror of the war that shattered the city was now knowledge that he shared. A moment passed, and he released the boy.

"Dost . . . dost thou understand?" he said, finding himself short of breath. "This and worse shall be visited upon the world, should we not succeed. Hell will ravage the whole of it. Please, Simon, wilt thou save us? Wilt thou undo the horrors we have unleashed?"

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Enoch couldn't stop the sigh of relief at the boy's acceptance. A part of him still balked at placing the boy in harm's way, but, with all of the angels and demons guarding him, he would be safer than almost any other human on earth.

"What lay before thee now," he explained to Simon, "is the task of learning the virtuous path. We shall guide thee to one who will take thee under wing, to learn the ways of battle and divine magic. You will be taken out of time, that you may become the savior of this world and the others."

He stands and offers a guiding hand to Simon, still not trusting Sirad enough to let her lead the boy.

"Wilt thou follow thy destiny, Simon the Hero?"

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Enoch , with the boys hand gripping his own, looks to Sirad.

"The time has come, Lucifer. We shall prepare for what lies ahead. Being that I do not know where Sarah Lightblade might be found, I leave it to thee to guide us."

A dark look spread across his face.

"But know this, demon. If thou intend to play some treachery upon us, I will end thee. The Father will not remain absent forever. And I will see to it that the Kingdom is ready for His return. Dost thou understand?"

He paused, awaiting her response, that they might proceed.

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Enoch kneels beside Simon, facing the fading sun of the afternoon. With his blade, Spes Vitae, drawn and held upright, he offers a solemn, quiet prayer to the Father, asking that the lessons of the day be blessed. The calm of his voice is soothing and ethereal, rumbling as he speaks.

When finally he completes his prayer, he lifts his head and looks toward the distance, as though he can see where the Father has gone. Then he rises to his feet and brings his sword down to his side before regarding the boy.

"Simon," his voice seems to reverberate, "the efforts of thy training have not been wasted. Though the things thou has learned up to this day might seem as trivial, they are the basis for all the power thou wilt bear. Firstly; thou must thy knee only to one, He whom we call Yahweh. Secondly; thou must, in all thy ways, walk in His light, never straying, never wavering. And thirdly; thou must defend those who are innocent, and strive for the redemption of the sinners and the un-Godly."

He pauses and watches the boy, who is now at the start of becoming a young man. He waits to see if the boy understands.

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Enoch repeats the lessons he's taught the boy over the last four years in this place out of time.

"Yahweh is the Father of Everything, the Creator of the Universe and all which lies beyond. He created mankind to walk in His image, to be holy and untainted. But man was weak and succumbed to lies. Man fell from the grace of the Father and was cursed to walk in darkness. But the Father is not without compassion, and He made a way for man to return unto the straight and narrow path. It is by walking that path that man can regain his lost innocence and live once more in the eyes of Yahweh."