Name: Mordecai Chambers
Race: Hooman
Occupation: Hellsing
Themesongbecausewhynot: Crossing the River Styx – I Am Ghost
Poorly put together and not very well thought out backstory/will improve hopefully as rp will go on:
“F-father?†a ten year old Mordecai asked the empty sanctuary, “Where are you? I thought I heard...†his voice trailed off as he listened to the howling of the wind outside. It was a cloudless night, and moonlight streamed in through the stained glass windows, painting the pews with reds and blues, yellows, greens, and purples. The familiarity of the sanctuary wrapped around him in a blanket of chills; something wasn't right.
He turned to the glass over the main entrance. Jesus Christ, Lamb of God stood there to look over the backs of the congregation, clothed in white robes, a red sash draped over one shoulder. His face was kind, comforting – protecting – despite the blood dripping from the open wounds in His hands, or perhaps because of it. The rays of sunlight were now, ironically when looking back, lit by those of the moon. Mordecai's young hand reached up, clutching the cross that hung around his neck and he turned stories of hope and the Gates of Heaven, others of Hell and punishment. Both kinds meant to serve a reminder as to what await them after death. All of that seemed so far away. It was true that Mordecai knew what await him, and the Golden Gates called to him. But their call was distant, one that would go unanswered for many years. He was safe here, under the light of the cross.
The cross, hanging above and behind the pulpit, appeared to be glowing. Despite the implications of death it bore with it, he found comfort at the sight of it, as would any true man of God. Mordecai, however, was just a boy. Comfort, then, at the sight of crucifix only seemed natural. He'd been taken in by the Church, raised by Father Nathaniel since birth. He first appeared on the doorsteps one snowy evening in November, wrapped in swaddled clothes and the priest took it upon himself to see to it that the boy was raised in the ways of the righteous.
“Please, father, call to me so I can come to you,†Mordecai whimpered. Never before had he felt so unsettled with the faces of those long dead and retired to Heaven watching him with those judgmental eyes. He could feel them boring into his very soul.
The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want...
There came no answer save for the howling of the winds outside, shaking the windows in their sills, and Mordecai in his boots.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside still waters..
Mordecai moved closer to the altar, turning towards one of the doors, expecting at any moment, he would see the familiar warmth of a candle, and the robed figure of his Father would appear shortly thereafter.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake...
Mordecai opened the door, the howling was loud, almost unbearable now. He could hear the slamming of a door beating against the side of the church.
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me...
The chill of the wind rushing through an open door greeted him rather than the warmth of Father's candle. It beat against his face, took his breath away. He wrapped his cloak closer to his body. “Father, I think a door is open...I will lock it.â€
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou annointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over...
Mordecai's steps were slow; his breaths ragged. He wished he'd grabbed a light. The gas lamps would be difficult to ignite with this breeze. There was this feeling, deep in the pit of his stomach, that told him something terrible lay in wait for him.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever...
Finally, he got to the door and he grabbed hold of the handle to keep it from slamming into the wall. Turning to lead the door back to its hinges, he froze. The form of a man lay just outside the door, motionless. His throat leapt into his throat as he let go, running to the man's side. Mordecai turned him over.
What he saw then would haunt him for the rest of his life.
//////
“You the kid that Nate was raising?†the man sitting across from Mordecai asked. After the events from the night prior, Mordecai was asked to stay at the police station, for both questioning and caretaking. The boy was an orphan, his caretaker murdered. Having no place left to go, they gave him right back to the Church. It was at a neighboring town's church that he now sat, hands folded obediently in his lap, eyes cast to the ground.
“Yes,†he said.
“You need a new place to stay,†the man returned simply. The boy was going to be simple, so he was too.
Again, the answer, “Yes.â€
“You want to get revenge on the sunuvabitch that took him from ya?â€
“Romans 12: 19 – Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written--â€
“Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.' Yeah, I know. But kid, there's a lot of people out there, just like Nate - ehm, I mean, Father Nathaniel – and more are going to die. You want to tell me you want to let them?†the man sighed, deciding to change his tactic. “Look kid, this God that we're all following? He is not the benevolent god you were taught to believe. He is apathetic. He chooses people to do his bidding for a reason. He will only repay your Father's death through an apostle. Lemme rephrase this. Do you wanna be an apostle of God? Prevent this from happening to any more of God's children?â€
Mordecai was silent, again, eyes focused on the hardwood floor. The wind was silent now, and the tension began to build up in the room until finally he answered, “I do.â€