Sable in Action

An excert from a storyline which will take place at some point in Book Three of The Chronicles of Enoch but one which shows just how interesting Sable can be in combat, even in today's modern world of guns.

I chose this piece to share because it also contains so tasty little hints that fans might well appreciate...

Gilgamesh was looking down at the approaching nephilim; there were at least twenty of them now. They were schlepping their way across the rooftops towards he and Sable’s current position, trying to keep low and not present a decent outline. Clearly, they were more modern creatures as they were exercising the due caution of one who knows well how guns and bullets work.

They were using cover well and advancing in groups, a practise he approved of. Several, he could see, were armed with handguns though none carried a larger weapon. He’d known that they’d been spotted a good ten minutes ago but had focussed on trying to get his shot off. Or shots. He didn’t like the need to kill but with those two down there, wounding was not an option.

He had to find a way to get them close enough together so that he could take out Krampus and then hit Lucifer three seconds later without giving that monster time to react or escape.

There was no way that he would let Lucifer be President of the country he had so grown to love, one which had been very accepting of him until Krampus had started stirring the old hatreds up. He sucked his teeth and looked over at Sable, who appeared to be doing something with the sleeves of his long coat. It was almost like he was looking for something.

Sable was clearly unarmed and, his peerless combat skills aside, even he would be unable to take on their soon-to-be-guests barehanded.

Well that just about buggers it all up doesn’t it? He thought, considering whether to ghost just one of them and have done with it. Better to take Lucifer with us if this is it...

It struck him as rather odd that Sable appeared so unconcerned by their predicament. He was focussed on his coat-sleeves again, something which was both intriguing and annoying to big Sumerian. He was about to ask his friend what in the name of any gods he may or not may not believe in he thought he was doing when Sable made an ‘ah’ noise. He then proceeded to do something which caused a feeling of more than mild surprise – mixed with a fair measure of terror – in Gilgamesh’s heart.

Sable reached into the sleeves of his long coat and smiled. He took hold of something with each hand and pulled. To Gilgamesh's genuine awe and terror, Sable pulled his long silver swords out of his coat. Each sword was close to three and a half feet long and were curved like scimitars; there was no way Sable's arms were that long and the coat certainly was not large enough. Gilgamesh had been admiring it earlier; it was a nice brushed suede type thing in a variety of shades of grey which fit Sable rather well. It would not fit the much larger Gilgamesh, but he had been meaning to ask Atlantan where he had gotten it from.

He had not expected, however, for Sable to just whip his famous swords out from inside of it, magic coats were not something he wanted in his sparse wardrobe. He stared his friend, face a multitude of questions.