The Holder of the Seeker's Death

I wouldn't call me a religious man; clawing my way over fiend and man alike, killing, stealing, shutting out all else to gather them. Yeah, no, not a religious man at all. 'Course, then it happened. And by it, I mean, the kind of "it" that makes babies cry and birds stop chirping and even a Holder shits himself and slinks into an even deeper pit of hell.

Ya see, I was a goddamned badass before all of this, right? Holder of the Nibelung, thanks for the sword! Holder of Guilt, thanks for the, erm, steak, ya know? Tons of 'em, right? I mean, shit, prolly dozens, I never kept count. I did for the fucking rush! I didn't give half a damn if reality would be plunged into an eternal waking nightmare when I was done or not. Catch my drift?

But, no, that couldn't just keep on happening. I had just gotten done getting these bitchin' castanets, right? I started wandering back home, and I think I was near a church or some bullshit. Not too sure, but outta nowhere, my heart fuckin' stops. I mean, dead stops, as in, I prolly had about fifteen seconds left of life. My head feels like it's gonna split, and these trumpets sound. Now, say whatcha want, but fuck those trumpets. Even thinking about them now makes me want to just smile and fall flat to my face and worship something. They were too damned goodly. For about half a second, that is, before blood started gushing out of my ears. And nose. And eyes, and mouth, and everywhere else I had an opening. Yeah, not a fun experience.

Then it was there. I guess I should call it a him, 'cause of the fact that it had a man's voice, I dunno. It just hovered there, my eyes dripping with blood barely able to see if just fuckin' floating like some arrogant asshole in a beam of light with, I assume, trumpets of goodness blaring in the background, while I'm here fuckin' dying! A long moment passed and my senses, as well as my pulse, returned, I managed to cough up at least enough blood to fill a kitchen sink, not to mention what was coming out elsewhere. I felt lightheaded. Then I got my first real look at it.

It was about twenty feet tall, and it looked like a grandfather clock and an ankh had a kid. Thing was just twenty solid feet of a cross-shaped whirl of gears, ranging in size from larger than a car, down to the size of an eyelash. None quite touching another one, but all spinning, varying speeds, and emitting the unearthly hum. Not bad at this point, and all I can think to do is scream at it, and my hand grabs the balmung, or whatever you fuckers call it. Goddamned sharp sword is what I called it. I managed to stagger to my feet and keep screaming, asking this fucking thing what the hell it thinks it is, just almost killing me, then floating at me without doing shit!

Then it spoke to me. I heard its thoughts, really, or felt what it wanted me to feel, and see; the things I saw there, I would gladly jump into one of those pits that you aren't s'posed to jump into, or say the wrong words at the wrong time to a Holder's face than see those sights again, but at the same time I thought I was gonna cream myself. It's like getting hit by a ton of razor-sharp bricks and getting a mouthful of ambrosia at the same time. Fuckin' unnerving. I'm gettin' off-topic.

"You presume much, and you know little. The burdens you gather are but trinkets, and greater services have commandeered your loyalty." So, I'm sitting here shitting creamed bricks wondering what the fuck that meant and I finally say "FUCK YOU" and slash my sword out at this thing's torso. Or, erm, big gear, or, whatever. It was in the middle, and it was the biggest part. Next second, I'm lying flat on my ass, my hand is gone, like, from halfway through my forearm up, and this thing is not only unscratched, but is shining brighter than it was.

"Gabriel, sent by the Alpha, and the Omega. Be enlightened, human. The horrors you have faced before are to me as naught but ants to an armored soldier, wielding a hafted spear and leather boots." An' lookin' at this thing, I couldn't really disagree. I mean, even the fuckin' scariest Holder, even them I could push past it, could man it up and just get through. But this thing... No way, not a chance. We just stood there, then, for a while, and it didn't say anything else, but I began sorting through that it had said, and, well, yeah, when divine relation hits you, you don't ignore it. Dig?

So yeah, then and there, on the spot, I knew what was up, and after a few more "words" from it, which I'm gonna keep between me and that fuckin' thing, I understood my mission fully, and then this big-ass stupid grin just sorta crept over my face, right? It gave me my arm back, and a few other things too, really. I'd already been pretty quick and strong, but now, man... Anyways, lemme tell you about this mission... 'Cause it was a fuckin' bitchin mission! Only catch was I had to give up all the shit I'd gotten. No biggie though, they all went back to their Holder and everything's set up just fine to go again. Or something. Grandfather-clock-angel-thing was a bit less than specific on that point.

But man, this mission kicks ass. D'ya know what's even more horrifying than a Holder? More dangerous and, by far, more unpredictable? Man, it's you fuckin' Seekers! Dig it, man, that... it, gave me my very own sword, made out of its body (Handguard is a spinning gear and it sorta looks like an overlong katana. Shit is bitchin'.) and told me that the path to attempt to gather the Objects is both foolish and ultimately futile. He wasn't too clear as to what he meant by "futile", really, but I got what he meant by "foolish", and I liked it. Yeah, slicing all of you overzealous motherfuckers up in god's name, apparently whoever I kill with this sharp-ass sonuvabitch goes directly to him for judgment, just does it for me.

On an interesting side note, I've made it a point to just cruise all around the world and chill in all the local mental institutions. And halfway houses.

The sword is Object 567 of 2538. If you wield it, you will be compelled to continue its mission as the new Holder.