"Conversation with Myself" A small Snippet from One of my Book Ideas

'I need to be faster' He raised his arm, just barely in time to block the sword.
'I need to be....harder' He couldn't bring himself to kill the man in front of him
'I need to be....STRONGER' He failed in his duty; he failed to protect her
"Your so weak, "Gabriel"...How can you call yourself one of the A.R.C.H-A.N.G.E.L's? Let ME take over...*I* Will kill him for you! *I* Will make you faster, and *I* will make you harder!" He remember back to when he was branded "Subject A.L.P.H.A 7-347: Classification: Unstable, Alternate personality created at same time of experimentation with subject's neural systems."
"If you think I will let you take control of my body, Malek , you are mistaken!"
"I am not "Malek" now, I am Lucifer!" Gabriel's body lost control then, and killed 4 men before gun fire took him down, sending him into a coma.....

A prologue of sorts....an Idea

Belac stepped over the fallen statue, glancing to his side. The city beyond was on fire, as it had been for years. A breeze blew past, carrying whispers of days long past, and causing the cloak around his right arm to flutter. His single eye glanced back at the building he was walking towards, while subconsciously rubbing the bandaging over the other. Stopping in front of what used to be the door, he knelled by it, running his left arm through the dirt, gritting his teeth. I may never march in the infantry.... He allowed tears to roll down his face, making the bandaging wet. ...Ride in the Calvary, shoot the artillery..... His right arm hung uselessly by his side, and twitched slightly, paining him. I may never fly over the enemy, but I'm in the Lords army!... The song stuck in his head, haunting him. I'm in the Lords army! I may never.... If only he had been faster, if only he had been...been stronger, then maybe, maybe they would have made it. Looking up, he looked painfully at the grave markers, torn apart now after ten years of battles and corrosion. The children, the families, all of the members of this church...gone in an instant, because of a Mistake HE had been a part of.
There was a slight crackle in the wind near him, and he dove to the side as a pile of stone was exploded. Reaching with his left hand, he drew his rifle, and took aim. With his right arm still useless, he had only two shots for this, but Redeemer had never failed him...never missed, not even....
He would need a lot more than two shots for this. Cursing his luck, or his foolishness, he fired at the first Demon in the sky, taking it down. He cocked the lever. Fired again, and another down. He dropped the rifle, and drew his revolver. Six shots. Six down. There were still twenty Demons in the sky. Sighing, he reached back and drew the sword from his back, and took his stance, vaguely being aware of shots in the distance, growing closer. A demon charged, and was split down the middle, another was decapitated, and the next a hole in its center. Sweat beaded on Belac's face, and his right arm began to twitch even more wildly. A High-Demon appeared, and smiled at him. Closing his eye, Belac raised his right arm slowly, and grasped the handle of his most deadly weapon, penitence. Lifting the rifle, he aimed it at the Demon, who smiled more.
"You will burn in the very flames that made you. Begone from this world!" Belac yelled as he pulled the trigger, releasing a blast powerful enough to knock him back a couple of feet, while taking out the remainder of the Demons, as well as the High. Putting it away, he turned to face the Men who had arrived, and hung his head, to hid his face from their leader, who he knew well. He remembered the times before.....

A Prologue I have for my Book I am working on:

King Sarmond let out a relieved sigh as he saw a flash of lightning, and heard the thunder. Glancing to the sky, he saw the clouds moving in, with rain following. He glance once more at the capital, Thelonosh, where is son, Prince Kerthain, was still sound asleep. He hoped his son would be able to forgive him. The battle today was suicide, to keep the Orcs, from discovering the single remaining city of the kingdom of Thel’landi. Sighing once more, Sarmond ordered the men to march. ‘200 men on foot’ he thought to himself, ‘50 of them archers. 25 horsemen, and a couple of siege weapons. We are outnumbered 50 to one. We all know it, and yet, I see no fear in their eyes.’ Looking forward, Sarmond saw the canyon. Turning to his men, he ordered them into positions; 20 archers on the tops of both canyon walls, and 10 behind the rest of the soldiers. Sarmond thought about their strategy. The standard 450 city garrison was split between two points. The canyon led to the western cities faster, and that was where the Orcs were last seen. It was assumed they would attack from there, however, defensively, it was the best place. No attacker could get a large force through when only a limited amount could leave at a time. So, they had another force along the main road, to ensure they fought the Orcs before they got to the city. Checking with the other force was easy enough, as they could communicate telepathically. However, it causes whoever was communicating to be distracted from the fighting.  As the men moved to positions, Sarmond himself contacted the Mage with the other group. There was no response.  Concerned, Sarmond tried harder. When he finally contacted the man, he sensed panic. ‘These guys are monsters! How can anything that big move so fast?!’ The communication was ended then, and Sarmond ordered the mage with him to scan the Canyon for life. There was nothing. Ordering a halt to activities, he told the men the Orcs attacked the Main Road already, and they were going to go help them. The men groaned, and began the march, as fast as they could to the road. Stopping just short of the Road, they saw the battle. Humans with swords and shields and spears and bows and arrows and hammers and many other weapons, were fighting eight foot tall giants, with dark skin, and large arms. These giants wielded huge battle axes and small bits of armor, and would not fall, even if they were stabbed. These were the Orcs. Sarmond ordered them to charge, and charge they did. Decapitating four Orcs, Sarmond let out a battle howl. Suddenly, a gush of blood hit him from the side. Turning, he saw a huge, nine foot tall beast, skin a black as he had never seen, marked with bone-white tattoos, and a skull design on his face, held his right-hand man in each hand. One half in each hand. Howling, Sarmond slashed at the creature’s arm. His sword hit at the lower arm with a wet cutting sound, followed by a quick thunk as it hit the bone. It stopped. Sarmond tried to pull the blade out, but he could not. Letting go of it, he grabbed a sword by his feet, and, spinning around, backed away from the Orc, who dropped the two halves of Sarmonds right-hand man. Then, grabbing the sword, the Orc yanked it out, and threw it at Sarmond as one might through a dagger. Deflecting it jarred Sarmond, who then ran forward and stabbed the Orc in the gut, who then spat out blood. However, this did not stop the Orc, as he reached down and threw Sarmond away, and lifted a battle axe of such huge proportions it could cleave pure stone in two. Gulping, Sarmond backed away, and felt his a large being against his back, turning, he saw another Orc, flinching from what he thought would be the end, he saw the Orc topple, a white-wood arrow imbedded in his skull. Looking around, he saw dust billowing in the valley approaching, with his son sitting atop a mighty charger, leading a band of militia from the city to their aid. Sarmond then felt something ice cold against his arm, and then could no longer feel it. Looking, he saw his arm falling to the ground, with a large battle axe lifting for another blow. Prince Kerthain, however, was able to intervene at the right time, decapitating the nine foot beast. Helping his Father up, Kerthain watched the militia drive the Orcs away, and smiled at his father.

                “Next time, don’t allow yourself to be distracted. And, before you ask, I do forgive you,” Sarmond gulped in air as much as he could, and felt his body going numb. Glancing at his son’s eyes, he saw that his son knew that his father was dieing, and was trying to allow him to peacefully pass.

                “My boy, you….you will be a much better King than I, or any of our forefathers. I am sure of that, and that alone, gives me the peace to pass into the Next Life willingly. You ARE the King now. Lead our people. Do not let them fall, and re-build this kingdom of ours,” Sarmond drew his last breath, smiling, as his son’s hair fell to reveal pointed ears.

                The next generations passed by with the same King, Kerthain, who was of Half-Elven blood, and thus, immortal by the standards of the Elves. He ruled for 600 years before taking an Elven wife, who gave birth to their son, Prince Thelenore, who was now more elf than man, but had the appearance of man. It was decided, after this, that Elves would not be allowed to be with Humans in marriage, and thus no more men would be Immortal, save for the Kings, though it would be kept a secret from everyone, including the Kings, until they were ready. So as the Kingship passed from Kerthain, who lost his leg in a raid from the Orcs, to Thelenore, and Thelenore ruled for 800 years before taking his wife, many things occurred. When his wife gave birth to their son, Veron, a blonde headed boy of rough characteristics, they thought that the Bloodline had ended. Then, however, his wife, in illness, gave birth to Ookami, a black-headed lad who was beautiful as well as unnaturally handsome, and eyes were a silvery green, they knew that the Bloodline would continue, but not in the line of Kings….