Shateishael's Background
Shateishael was first and most inspired by David, the Archangel of
Stone. The secondary influences on its short, just-created life were
other angels whose work it admired. It selected its own name as a salute
to those angels: the Liberating Angel, Shekinah, who inspires mortals
to be just and fair, the healer of their bodies, minds, and spirits,
to incorporate the feminine aspect of the Maker Who delivers the world
in all ages; Samandiriel, the angel who holds dominion over imagination,
inspiring mortals to realize what a remarkable tool they have in their
vivid imaginations, allowing them to visualize and create alternative
realities with which to transform their own lives as well as the world
around them; Shamshiel, the angel of Daylight; and Shateiel, the angel
of Silence.
Shateishael doesn't know the exact date he
nicknamed himself Gunther and was sent down to the corporeal world to
joined the ancient Norse; just that it was the holiday "Frídagur
Verkamanna" on the 19th "dagr sumars," or day of summer. He knows it
was before the turn of the first Christian millennia, however, as he
went a-viking with his people through several Christian monasteries and
nunneries for the first century or two he spent with them. This sort of
raiding caused the Vikings, as they became known, to be considered part
of the signs pointing to the supposed Christian Apocalypse due at the
turn of their first millennia.
Gunther was not fond of the cultural assertion that true raiders
killed or enslaved the people they attacked, as just looting and
leaving the living behind made one no better than a common thief. Thus
in time he became known as Gunther the Rune-shaper, since he preferred
parliament, blacksmithing, farming, learning, and weapons-making to war
and pillaging.
Slavery was not the horrific, racist, inherited institution it became
centuries later in the Americas. There were, in fact, social rituals
in place that even allowed slaves to chose their own masters, to some
degree. Women also had a significant amount of autonomy, and there was
no shame in a weaker man finding shelter, protection, and family life
with someone stronger, richer, or more fortunate.
Life in that time period was not easy, after all, and more than one
person in Gunther's community figured out the advantages inherit in
having a strong, healthy, easy-going protector/partner/shield-brother
that didn't eat or sleep much, even if he was apparently sterile. Add to
this the angel's natural inclination to behave selflessly towards those in
need, and it becomes unsurprising to realize Gunther often ended up with
members of either gender and of various ages living with him, out of need,
fear, or friendship. Significant (and early on) among those individuals
were the widow and three children of a deceased shield-brother. That
was the first time the quiet seraph personally helped raise a family --
much to the satisfaction of the widow, and his own personal astonishment
at his success.
It was in the AH 500's (Islamic lunar calendar), or AD 1100's
(Christian solar calendar) that Gunther realized Christianity had pretty
much obliterated the old ways he was familiar with, despite his slow,
intermittent migration westward with his community to avoid it. This
was not something he was pleased about, as he was quite fond of his
adopted community by now. Also, the missionaries he'd met tended to
be arrogantly supercilious towards, and destructive of, anything they
thought was not suitably submissive to them and their new religion --
which unfortunately also summed up their treatment of women and all those
weaker than them.
Thus it was around that time Gunther decided, almost on a whim,
to find the greatest sword maker ever, and learn from that person, so
the secrets of making wonderful swords were never lost. Thus Gunther
went walkabout (or in his case, sailing) on this quest.
Gunther ended up sailing by slow stages southwards, eventually becoming
rather good at making the Damascene blades of Toledo, in what is now
southern Spain. However, he decided to learn more about the curious
Islamic blades, and ended up sort of desultorily ambling through the
last bits of the Crusades.
During this time he became acquainted somewhat with both the concept
of courtly love, and the new religion of Islam. He found he rather liked
some of the new things he was learning about. At the time both social
memes encouraged "radical" notions like bathing, critical thinking,
not caring for the unpleasant rigidity of Catholicism, the rights
of women (including property ownership), and/or really nice sword
making. Admittedly, he thought most of the more... floridly sentimental
forms of chivalry were schmaltzy, sappy wastes of time, but he was very
pleased to see women were not just chattel any more.
Gunther also particularly liked the Cathars, a religious sect who
claimed they held the true key to the gospels, reading them mythically
or mystically rather than literally, and actually practicing what they
preached, living lives of simplicity and charity. In comparison to the
missionaries Gunther had met up to that point, these folks were quite nice
-- nice enough, in fact, that he was actually willing to listen to them,
and discuss scriptures with them. Unfortunately (as a historical side note
that Gunther learned later) the Roman Catholic Church, perceiving them
as a threat to their mastery of the hearts and souls of the peasantry,
crushed them utterly a short while later.
In about the same time period Gunther was beginning to be interested
in the beauty of mysticism and poetry as art forms which attempted to
depict divine love in a format the mortal mind could comprehend. The
young seraph was fortunate to stumble over the poetry of the Islamic
Sufis, who had for centuries been developing a mystical path of love,
where the sensual and the spiritual comes together in an ecstatic way of
worship and devotion. He could greatly appreciate their poetic attempts
to depict the divine through the human beloved, and he enjoyed listening
and realizing that in the best Sufi love poetry one cannot always be
sure whether the poet is praising a human beloved, the divine beloved,
or is depicting one shining through the other.
However, once again the Roman Catholic Church did their best to
destroy any challenge to their autocratic rule, and Islam was eventually
thrown completely out of Spain. Gunther kept wandering and learning on
his quest...
He ended up in Japan in the early Muromachi (or Ashikaga) Period,
also known as the early AH 700's, or the early AD 1300's. By that
point his skill at forging swords was quite something, but he was still
searching for the greatest sword maker ever. He was pretty sure
he was narrowing in on this (potential) individual, but it took him a
while to learn the strange new ways of this culture.
Once he'd finally gotten over the urge to brag -- which worked fine
with Europeans, but not so well with the Nihonjin -- he ended up becoming
the last apprentice of Masamune, for 17 years, from AD 1341 to AD 1358,
the year of Masamune's death. The Nihonjin referred to Shateishael by
the nickname of Teishi or Deshi (apprentice), but after about a decade,
once the brilliant sword master had gotten a bit fond of the huge, pale
stranger, Masamune gave Shateishael a personal name, calling him Kuma
(bear). The inheriting son-in-law didn't care for the "upstart" Deshi,
however, so at Masamune's death Shateishael moved on.
As a side-note, Shateishael's still proud that Masamune referred
to him as "my son" in Heaven -- that's quite the compliment to give a
peculiar gaijin!
Some time thereafter David called Shateishael back to Heaven. Perhaps
he was worried about the anger building in the young seraph against the
Roman Catholic Church. Perhaps he just wanted to see what one of his "most
interesting creations" was learning during all this wandering. Whatever
the reason, in the late Muromachi Period, or the AD 1500's, David assigned
his servitor to the Great Plains of the North American continent, to work
with the emerging Nemene, or Our People, as they called themselves.
Bear of the Sun arrived during the time of the Flower Moon, and worked steadily and consistently with the Comanche,
as the Spanish knew them, for many, many snows. As nomadic traders and
mounted warriors, the Nemene (or Comanche, depending on who you were
talking to) were outrageously successful. Not only did their riding
skills become the standard by which other plains tribes were judged,
but the Nemene were one of the few native peoples to learn how to breed
their horses. They most valued the pintos and paints, and selectively
bred for those characteristics. Through trade, capture, careful breeding,
and especially through massive raiding, the Nemene acquired large herds
of the prized and valuable horses. By the early 1800s, the Nemene had
herds of horses in numbers beyond the dreams of other tribes. Shrewd
traders, their language became the lingua franca of horse trading on
the plains.
Bear of the Sun was very happy living with his clan of adoption:
the Penateka, or Honey Eaters. He was thrilled with the broad cultural
success of the versatile, practical Nemene. A hard-raiding, hard-living,
pragmatic people, the Nemene developed democratic traditions on their
own; prized generosity, "medicine power," family relationships, and
honor; valued good judgement and common sense over facile oratory and
soon-passing popularity; and disdained dependence on hard and fast
rules. They epitomized the mounted plains warrior -- the raids of the
proud, swift Lords of the Southern Plains were legendary for the distance
covered and their ability to strike hundreds of miles from their starting
point. Later Christian missionaries would remark that the Comanche,
pre-conversion, were the happiest people they'd ever met.
It also pleased Bear of the Sun that he could give assistance to those
few within his clan who were in need of aid, just as he'd done with
the ancient Norse. As a result of this, it was probably unsurprising
that he couldn't help grieving deeply as he watched (centuries later
as the white man figures time) the white man methodically destroying
everything he'd worked so hard to help create -- destruction accomplished
through consistent, vicious deceit; through assassination of many of
the Comanche chiefs while they were under the white man's white flag of
truce; through deliberate infestations of smallpox and other terminal
diseases; and through the brutal, methodical extermination of the vital
buffalo and Comanche pony herds, both of which were shot, then left to
uselessly rot.
Bear of the Sun still doesn't know if the success of the white termite
people was due to demonic influence or the twisted, vicious, racist tool
that Christianity had become in the hands of the white man. However,
he would love to get his hands on the authors of the destruction
of one of the happiest people he'd ever known.
He ended up wandering away from the pathetic reservation the Comanche
had been exiled to, almost blind with grief, when his beloved mortal
wife Dancing Pony died there of pneumonia during the Hunger Moon, in about AD 1875.
Bear of the Sun's wise old lead mare had been with him almost as
long as he'd been with the Comanche. As far as she was concerned, her
herd stallion was sick, she didn't know what to do for him, and the
best two-legger she knew to care for him was his restless friend Ted
(now known as Nick) -- so when her ailing stallion wandered blindly away
from the reservation she simply made sure to steer Bear of the Sun and his
herd straight to Nick. She was greatly relieved when the Ofanite told her
he could help. She's out on the Ranch still, quietly minding her little
equine family/herd in a small, safe valley in the nearby foothills.
Nick couldn't call his friend "Bear of the Sun" in the then-more-racist
society of that time, so the withdrawn young seraph was re-nicknamed
Slate. Slate ended up spending almost a century with Nick, in fact, at the
Ranch, learning to read and write the two eloquent and gracile languages
he'd previously only known how to speak -- Japanese and Arabic.
Most important to Nick, and the event that started this spate of
learning, was that Slate finally learned to speak, read, and write
the despised white man's tongue as well. This was a first for Slate,
who up to this time had taught and been taught strictly within oral
traditions. True, ancient Norse did have a written, runic language,
but was not really what one would call a literate society. As Nick
cheerfully put it, the runic writing looked like hen scratchings and,
the way Gunther wrote, was about as legible.
Learning to think in writing, rather than continuing within oral
traditions, was a revelation for the angry young seraph. He ended up
diving into the written word as a medium for transferring knowledge,
doing an extensive amount of eclectic personal research on the growth and
decline of cultures -- mostly in an effort to figure out some suitable
revenge for the killers of both his adoptive communities.
Slate was deeply absorbed in self-taught learning during that time,
and met no more angels than he'd done in his previous centuries of life
-- which is to say, almost none. The one or two he did meet he tended
to be distantly formal to, as he was still unsure how to admit that he,
a seraph, had fallen in love with a mortal woman.
However, in the 1950's the house and its small library burned down,
almost taking Slate with it. This was a bit of a wake-up call to the
withdrawn and reclusive angel, who belatedly realized what he was trying
to do was wrong, and likely something his Superior would greatly
disapprove of -- destruction of one society could never make up for
the destruction of another. He made sure his old friend Nick was safe
and sound in his newly-built home, then went walkabout again for a bit,
still confused as to how to cope with the community losses in his life.
Later in the century he idly picked up a discarded draft notification.
Reading it curiously, he randomly decided to cover for a draft dodger
whose last name, perhaps coincidentally, was Davidson. Maybe some
conflict and mayhem would be just what he needed to clear his head,
and would make up somewhat for his being so self-absorbed as to have
entirely missed both world wars.
At Induction a marine recruiter asked for a few volunteers for
Marine Reconnaissance -- something that was apparently unusual -- and
the seraph decided to try it, figuring it might be more interesting
than just being a grunt. This was, by his own later admission, quite
possibly the most idiotic thing he'd ever done -- he did not know at
the time that the average life span of marine recon on mission was a
stunning four minutes.
Davidson today attributes his survival to the coaching of a wiser, more
experienced fellow marine who got him to trade his M16 immediately for a
native-built crossbow. He liked the closeness of the military community
he found himself part of, but being a Stone angel he never did care much
for the crossbow. He preferred to reserve it for warnings; using his
knife for close-in work only when absolutely necessary. Aside from that,
he still doesn't talk about Vietnam much, and upon release back to the
US he drifted restlessly for several decades, slowly recovering.
At the turn of the second Christian millennia Davidson was pretty much
over his heartsickness. He was, in fact, starting to get a little bored,
and wondering what he could do next. Fortunately, it was right about
that time that he was called to Heaven again by his Superior. Initially
sent on an extremely short (and somewhat confusing) mission to a place
called Morgantown, he met Rosenstern, successfully accomplished all
mission goals, and was then sent on to Austin.
Austin is Slate's present day location, and he is currently
thoughtfully puzzling over what community it is that David wishes
him to aid. He's not sure yet, but he thinks maybe this time it's
not a mortal community at all. Rather, he suspects it may well be the
community of angels itself who can most use his help. After all, as his
Superior enigmatically noted to him earlier, this is an opportunity for
Shateishael to burn habit from his heart.
Shateishael's Questionnaire
What's your name?
Shateishael.
What does your vessel look like -- gender, height, weight, apparent
age, hair, eyes, skin, etc.?
Male, indeterminate height, about 150, 200lbs, look about 20 to 25
years old. Bright blonde hair sometimes worn back in a ponytail, sometimes
rather impatiently hacked off in front as bangs. Usually narrowed blue
eyes and tanned skin. Slightly sardonic grin most of the time. Usually
move with careful deliberation (so I don't accidentally break things),
much like any martial artist (duh!), and tend to wear pragmatic, sturdy
clothing for the same reason. Heavy leather boots, jeans, flannel shirts,
stuff like that.
What is your earthly Role?
*laugh* Gimme a break. What would I want one of those for?
I'm supposed to promote community, not be one.
How old are you in actuality? What and when was your first earthly
assignment?
Uhm... earth years? Which calendar? Let's see... Gregorian will do,
that's common now here, right? Yeah, that's right... they just had
another millennial hysteria thing, I remember now. Okay... so... that'd
be ahhh... about 1000 years, give or take a few centuries? Ah... when
were the Norse out a-viking the most? That's where I started -- I was
helping them quit in-fighting so much, by using dueling instead of
feuding for conflict resolution. Nice way to handle it, too... more
honorable than wiping out whole families, y'know? That was before the
Holy Romans started getting really uppity, so, ah... yeah, about 1000.
That sounds about right. Why does this matter?
Have you always worked for your current Superior?
Yup.
Have you ever erred seriously under this Superior?
*amused grin / disdainfully raised eyebrow*
What is your working relationship with your Superior like?
He's... David. He's the Man, y'know? How can you not admire that?
Would you be interested in service to a different Superior?
Nope. Not unless David wanted me to.
What do you think your Superior would say are your greatest
strengths and weaknesses?
What do I think he'd say? He'd say ask me, 'cause I'd tell you the
truth. You want to get to the point here?
If you were assigned a Word today, what would it be?
How should I know? Ask David. Haven't narrowed my focus that much
yet.
Do you have the ambition to seek a Word?
*amused glance* You questioning my determination? Try the next
question, boyo.
Do you have friends on the Other Side? Does your Superior know?
*exasperated sigh* Give me a break... of course he'd
know! What do you think I am, you dimwit?!
How do you feel about Demons in general? Are there Bands or Princes
to whom you're more opposed than others?
Oh, yeah. Man, I am just sick of the crap they're pulling today,
thanks to that jerk Vapula -- all that high tech junk he's throwing up --
screw that shit! Don't you just loathe what wimps these modern
armies have become? There's no honor in shooting someone so far away
you have to correct for the curvature of the earth!
Are there specific Attunements, Songs, Skills, etc., which you
don't currently have but are pursuing?
Sure. I like that Davidian Cherubim attunement -- I want to be able
to pull guns out of their hands at a distance. Clears the field up,
y'know? -so folks can duel honorably.
What's your general opinion of mortals?
Ehh, they're okay. Poor things. Not sure they'll be much help in the
End Times.
What about the whole sex thing? Have you ever had sex with a
mortal?
Fuck off. Next question.
Have you ever killed a mortal?
Sure. Hello, I was in armies?!
What's your attitude towards mortal laws?
They need 'em.
Religions?
Ditto.
Sin?
*sigh* Look, are you trying to make a point here, or what?
What's that question supposed to mean? Do you mean sin in the sense of
that Original Sin myth, or if troubled humans label their peccadilloes
that way to seek redemption, or if humans need sin to find salvation,
or if I'm sinning, or if they are, or what? Could we have a little
precision in your damn speech here?!
Are there mortal habits which you've acquired?
Yeah, I don't handle fools at all well. How long is this questionnaire
gonna take?
What about God? What's up with Him?
What about God? It Is. What more is there to need to know?
And Lucifer? What's his deal?
He's a sad, sick puppy. Shame about that.
Have you ever doubted God's wisdom or questioned your place in
the Symphony? What if God was one of us? Just a slob like one of us?
God is one of us, you idiot. Hello? Does the phrase
"on the side of the angels" ring a bell? One more thing -- call us slobs
again, and you can go home with your unfinished questionnaire stuffed
someplace the sun don't shine.
Do you like to fight? Are you good at it?
Hell, yes. Be happy to show you if you don't finish this damn
questionnaire off soon.
With what musical instrument do you associate your part in the
Symphony? What musical style?
Cello. Nice, clear, true tones. Sweet. Not as big, impressive, or
deeply low-timbred as the bass, not as small, numerous, or high-pitched
as the violin... but the orchestra's just not right without 'em.
Do mortals have free will? What about Celestials?
Not sure mortals would know what to do with free will even if they
knew what it was. Celestials... so what? You do what you think is right.
What's free will got to do with that?
Who's your best friend? Worst enemy? Most hated rival?
Get outta here. Like I'd tell you that.
You're told that the Game is investigating you. How do you
react?
Who?
What if they're investigating your best friend?
*impatient silence*
Have you ever accumulated significant Dissonance, or even
Discord?
*sigh* No, I'm not going to tell you that. Next.
Your best friend is perilously close to Tripping, even Falling. How
do you handle it? What if he or she has already Fallen? Has a friend of
yours ever Tripped or Fallen?
*irritated stare* I'd try to help them, you dimwit --
what a stupid question! Man, I am SO not answering that last one --
next!
Is there anything that could make you defy the will of your
Superior? What about the Will of God? What if you're ordered to perform
actions which run contrary to your deepest individual commitments?
NEXT, goddammit!
If you could eradicate one sin in the corporeal realm, what would
it be? What if you could maximize one virtue?
Sin... *sigh* You're putting a Catholic Church spin on this,
aren't you? Okay, that'd be the seven deadly ones then. Um... shoot,
what were they... anger, pride, uh, envy, umm... god, I can't believe
I'm wasting my time on this... all right, all right -- um... lust,
sloth... covetousness... drat, what's that last one... ah, right,
gluttony -- can't forget that stupid furry toad in hell.
Right. So... eradicate one. Umm... man, this is dumb -- it'd be worth
the thought if it could actually happen -- all right, all right,
I'm thinking, hold your horses. One. Ahh... okay. Right, okay. Sloth.
Waste of time to spend any effort on folks like that. Okay, maximize
virtue, let's get this nonsense over with... uhh, what are they again...
temperance, prudence, justice, fortitude, love, hope, and faith. Ah,
that one's easy -- love.
Is there a mortal whose character you particularly admire?
*amused snort*
Despise?
Shit, I don't know. Anyone that snipes from a distance 'cause they're
too much of a coward to face their opponent on equal ground, I guess.
What do you do when you don't have a specific assignment?
*cranky glance* Fill out endless questionnaires, looks
like...
With whom do you associate if the choice is entirely yours?
Other angels, of course.
With whom do you prefer not to associate?
*impatient stare* People that waste my time!
How do you dress? Do you pay much attention to mortal fashion? Do
you have any tattoos or piercings?
I dress to get the job done. Fashion... pfah! What a waste of time
and effort.
Assuming for a moment that you enjoy mortal entertainment, what's
your favorite movie? Book? Album?
*incredulous laugh*
If you had to compare yourself to a media personality, who would
it be?
*silent stare* Y'know, you're starting to annoy me.
Is there a media personality who screams "NYBBAS"?
Yes.
Do you eat or drink? Smoke? Use drugs? Details, please, thanks.
I've tried 'em -- some of 'em feel nice. *malicious grin*
That's all the detail you're gonna get, though.
Do you know what "felching" is? Who the fuck thinks of that?
Seriously, that's fucked up.
Get out of here! That's enough... you're just wasting my time now. Go
on, just get.