Chapter 1

The masked teenager was laughing uproariously as he punched the old man in the back of the head, knocking him down and hopefully out. He was laughing so much however, that he never noticed the arm that was suddenly chest high on him until he ran straight into it, knocking him to the ground and the air from his lungs.

Peter Bell sneered down at his fallen foe and gave him a swift kick to the head to knock him out before he hurried forward. The old man was just getting to his knees when Peter got to him and slipped one arm under the guy’s shoulder while the other went to his elbow for more direct support as he helped him up. His voice was a soothing baritone, powerful but made soft with concern, “Are you alright sir?”

Imgada smiled at the stripling before him, kind and compassionate, but still capable of being harsh when the situation called for it. He couldn’t have picked a better Successor if he’d searched for another millennia. The man-child was roughly his own height, what was now called six feet, with the build of a warrior; his short, white hair was slightly ruffled from the brief combat with his own attacker whilst his crystal blue eyes were alight with concern for a complete stranger; finally his face was well put together, not handsome perhaps, and certainly not pretty (never ‘pretty’), but the face of a man whom, despite his obvious youth, knew who and what he was, and dressed in a simple heather grey cotton tee-shirt and blue jeans with what appeared to be work boots upon his feet.

Peter helped the old man to a nearby bench, “Sir? Do I need to call an ambulance?” After he got the old man sat down, he reached into his pocket and started to call 911.

Imgada cleared his throat, “That’s quite alright young man. I am fine. No medical aid is required.”

“Alright, but I’m going to call the cops to get that piece of trash off the street.”

The old man laughed, the contempt and disdain rolling off of this young man was rather impressive. Truly, he seemed to abhor victimizers of the (perceived) helpless. “They also shan’t be needed my boy,” he said as he rose to his feet.

“What... ,” Peter’s words were suddenly cut off as the old man seemed to transform right in front of him.

Imgada let his Mortal Shroud slip from him, revealing his Divine, though severely reduced, self to the mortal he had Chosen. “I am Imgada. A being of Ancient Times and Divine Power. I have Existed since long before the time of the Carpenter’s Children. My Followers have long since been scattered to the four winds and my Name forgotten. I am weary of my continued half-existence. For your Kind Nature and yet Stern Hand, I have Chosen You, Pieter Demetri Bell, as my Heir Devine. However, before I give unto you My Power, there is one last Act I must make. Alan Margrave Barnes, rise.”

The masked, and recently unconscious, teenager slowly rose to his feet. When he saw the Unearthly face glaring at him, he dropped to his knees.

“Alan Margrave Barnes, you have assaulted an innocent for naught save your own amusement and mayhap a moment’s fame. You cared naught for any injury that the innocent may have suffered from your assault nor did you seek to redress the harm you had caused. Therefore, I now pronounce Judgment upon thee. You are Sentenced to Servitude. For the rest of your Natural Life until your final death to serve my Heir, Pieter Demetri Bell, in any such capacity as he shall choose. You shall never seek to Evade this Punishment, nor shall you ever seek to Harm or allow Harm to come onto your Pledged Master. Now, Sleep and awake when you are needed.”