27-11-2003, 01:18
He opened the rusty door to the worn down facility, it creaked terribly and played a chorous of roars throughout the factory. He winced at the noise, but was not afraid of any challenge, the work mill had been closed and vacated long ago.
He entered the vaulted halls and walked along a path that was once a sparkling gold, but after years of neglect had been tarnished beyond recognition. He walked upon The Golden Path through the factory, past machines and instruments that tugged at his mind, and yet he could draw nothing from his fragmented mind as to their purpose.
Past the ancient machinery he walked, drawn to what seemed as two vast doors. He pused against them with all his might, yet they would not budge. Their steel frames had long since rusted, yet they still carried their old strength. "Open up!" He yelled at them in defiance, but being met with no response he turned to leave. That was then the motors in the door came to life. Oh sure they were rusty, and they creaked horribly but slowly but surely they parted and opened for him.
He stood amazed at the sight of the interior of the facility, at it's heart laid a black marble throne, and although their was no light it glimmered as if a thousand suns danced upon its black surface. He walked to the throne, something tearing at the corner of his mind told him he knew what this was, but that thing had not a voice and even if it had he had no ears to listen.
He slowly approached the throne and noticed that at it's feet lay two long shafts, one of complete darkness the other of the purest light. He lifted the two objects and discovered that they were two long sheaths, their occupants long asleep in their sheltered home. He placed the sheaths into his belt and drew the pure blade. It glimmered as if it had just been forged, shining a light that did not exist. He drew it's brother a sword of pure black, the darkest of obsidian he knew it was forged of, and it fed off the light it's brother cast. He replaced the brothers in their homes and drew himself upon the throne, at its right arm their was a book, an immense book long gone the color of tarnish with age. Carefully, oh so carefully he brought the book to him and opened it's cryptic pages. Inside were things that he didn't understand, and yet they pulled at his familiarty like a hook. He looked through the old pages and saw things named as "Dragon Fyre, or Hell Fyre or Drake Fang." Things that he knew but could not understand.
He closed the book and almost leapt from the throne when he heard the sound of a cloak dragging umongst the ground. A man, an old man, wearing a shorn robe stepped from the darkness and looked upon the throne. His eyes shone of madness, and his face; remorse. But when his gaze fell upon him the darkness and despair dissappeared. He seemed instantly revitalized and he bowed low to him. "My name is Arch Primarch Fenruris, and 'tis a pleasure to see ye again High Lord Razzgo, may you live forever ubon the Black Throne." And then everything came to life...
Razzgo will begin manufacturing it's weapons of Fyre as soon as the Lonely Lands Alliance can be reforged. Lord Razzgo has placed a statement out that any that wish to join the LLA may do so by sending him a private telegram.
May ye all walk in the light
Lord Razzgo, the Reborn.
He entered the vaulted halls and walked along a path that was once a sparkling gold, but after years of neglect had been tarnished beyond recognition. He walked upon The Golden Path through the factory, past machines and instruments that tugged at his mind, and yet he could draw nothing from his fragmented mind as to their purpose.
Past the ancient machinery he walked, drawn to what seemed as two vast doors. He pused against them with all his might, yet they would not budge. Their steel frames had long since rusted, yet they still carried their old strength. "Open up!" He yelled at them in defiance, but being met with no response he turned to leave. That was then the motors in the door came to life. Oh sure they were rusty, and they creaked horribly but slowly but surely they parted and opened for him.
He stood amazed at the sight of the interior of the facility, at it's heart laid a black marble throne, and although their was no light it glimmered as if a thousand suns danced upon its black surface. He walked to the throne, something tearing at the corner of his mind told him he knew what this was, but that thing had not a voice and even if it had he had no ears to listen.
He slowly approached the throne and noticed that at it's feet lay two long shafts, one of complete darkness the other of the purest light. He lifted the two objects and discovered that they were two long sheaths, their occupants long asleep in their sheltered home. He placed the sheaths into his belt and drew the pure blade. It glimmered as if it had just been forged, shining a light that did not exist. He drew it's brother a sword of pure black, the darkest of obsidian he knew it was forged of, and it fed off the light it's brother cast. He replaced the brothers in their homes and drew himself upon the throne, at its right arm their was a book, an immense book long gone the color of tarnish with age. Carefully, oh so carefully he brought the book to him and opened it's cryptic pages. Inside were things that he didn't understand, and yet they pulled at his familiarty like a hook. He looked through the old pages and saw things named as "Dragon Fyre, or Hell Fyre or Drake Fang." Things that he knew but could not understand.
He closed the book and almost leapt from the throne when he heard the sound of a cloak dragging umongst the ground. A man, an old man, wearing a shorn robe stepped from the darkness and looked upon the throne. His eyes shone of madness, and his face; remorse. But when his gaze fell upon him the darkness and despair dissappeared. He seemed instantly revitalized and he bowed low to him. "My name is Arch Primarch Fenruris, and 'tis a pleasure to see ye again High Lord Razzgo, may you live forever ubon the Black Throne." And then everything came to life...
Razzgo will begin manufacturing it's weapons of Fyre as soon as the Lonely Lands Alliance can be reforged. Lord Razzgo has placed a statement out that any that wish to join the LLA may do so by sending him a private telegram.
May ye all walk in the light
Lord Razzgo, the Reborn.