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Gabriel or "The Herald of God" was at one time in his life a great warrior on Earth, who was the very first mortal to truly believe in God.
One cold, crisp sunny day Gabriel was riding to the little town of Bethlehem to receive a message from a friend. As he rode, he heard a noise in the bushes to his left and suddenly out sprang 100 or more bandits and thieves. They came charging up the road from behind Gabriel shouting and screaming like madmen. Gabriel spurred his white charger and started for the town. Then, as he was riding, he thought of the gentle people in Bethlehem. What would happen to them? What would become of the town? He remembered his oath of knighthood. To serve and protect the weak, helpless and innocent. His face tightened, his fists clenched, his blood boiled, and for the first time in his life he felt hatred. Hatred for the scum that would rape, pillage and burn the quiet little town of Bethlehem. In an instant his horse was reversed and heading straight for the barbaric thieves. Riding to a head-on collision, Gabriel's last words were "God be with me." The sound of swords being drawn and arrows slicing through the air filled his senses.
In one mighty stroke the Holy Sword of Gabriel quickly dispatched four of the brigands and wounded a fifth. Gabriel then followed through with a strong back swing, cleanly slicing the head off one bandit and shearing the right arm off another. The poor fellow who lost his arm saw it lying on the ground among his associates feet just as he felt an unbelievable pain shoot through his bloody stump. The brigand's scream in agony was cut short by the thrust of Gabriel's sword directly through the man's throat. The bandits poured in on Gabriel wave after wave like mindless drones with one intention. Gabriel was a becon of light in a sea of darkness. At this point all hell broke loose.
Gabriel already had six arrows lodged deep in his body and horrid sword wounds across his chest. However, something or someone kept this man going. It was a savage battle, swords all bearing down on one man. One man who believed. Now nothing could be seen amidst the dust and dirt kicked up by the battle, except the flash of silver and a bright crimson rain.
The lonely glow of twilight danced across the morning dew which coated the grass and forest trees. There was silence once again. Only the distant chirping of blue jays could be heard. Quiet blood soaked bodies littered the dirt road where a fierce battle had once raged. There were bodies in every position imaginable. Face up, face down, sprawled out by the bushes, lying in the sewage ditch, even hanging from the roadside trees. Amidst these loathsome black cloaked rouges was a man dressed in silver armor and a red and white cape. It was Gabriel. He was dead. He was lying next to the very last brigand, still clutching his bloodstained sword. He had kept his promise.