NationStates Jolt Archive

I'm tearing away. Pieces are falling I can't seem to make them stay. You run away. Faster and faster you can't seem to get away. BREAK!

Damien sat upon his throne as always because the Great Hall was usually empty towards dusk, save for a few servants and politicians staying late. It was a usual night in Automagfreek, the night air was crisp as always, and a slight breeze blew in every so often causing the curtains of cimson to dance in a clam manner. Damien sat alone in the trone room, trying to remember the events that transpired before and during his passing. He knew it was dangerous to dig into the past, for the past could never be changed, and there was no sense blaming yourself for past actions.

Hope there's a reason. For questions unanswered I just don't see everything. Yes I'm inside you. Tell me how does it feel to feel like this just like I do.

He sat with his head in his hands, wincing as he tried to recall the events exactly as they happened. He saw the demon whore Rayne, and she was laughing at him. She drew her 9mm pistol and planted a round in Damien's forehead, sending him to the floor. He sat up and stumbled somewhere around 2 miles to the hospital with a shattered skull. He remembers collapsing from lack of blood....then a white light....then awaking in the Halls. DAMMIT!!!!!!! He couldn't remember no matter how hard he tried. It was like his brian was locked so tight that no prying could open it. He remembered the before and after, but not the middle....not the middle.


I don't care about anyone else but me......I don't care about anyone.

He stood up in a huff, walking out onto the large porch. A night breeze danced across his nostrils, and the fiery warlord took in a deep breath. HE thoughts on Rayne drifted along with the breeze as he exhaled. His thoughts swayed to and fro, finally focusing on Bastien the Brone, Lord Reaver of Pantera. Bastien had not said a word to him since his rising, and Damien felt saddened that his best friend had not welcomed him home. Bastien was beginning to become more withdrawn right before Damien was gunned down, and Damien wondered if the depression of losing the Dread Fires finally overwhelmed him. Dayne the Evenstar was of concern to him, for in a dream he saw both blood and fire, and the laughing face of Dayne. Wether good or bad, he knew not...all he knew is that he could not see Bastien's face.....oh, to only see his face again. Damien's thoughts took off as they usually did, and Bastien's lack of hospitality did upset him abit. Maybe my friends don't care about me after all....maybe the Lord Reaver has given up hope on me.... Me, he thought.....Damien seemed like the only person he could trust at this point, for there was much confusion and darkness in the world nowadays.

Do I really want this. Sometimes I scare myself I just can't let it go. Can you believe it. Everything happens for reasons I just don't know

Rayne, the GDODAD, the hatred that AMF had felt recently...what was it for? Damien walked inside the Great Hall again, this time exiting the throne room and walking down the grand staircase. Each oak step creaked ever so slightly as the 7 foot 300 pound warlord deceded onto the lower level of the Great Hall. The groundskeepers had finished for the day, and the gardens were now quiet. Under the moon, he stepped into the gardens, walking between the bushes and the maple trees, their leaves singing a sweet song to him. He closed his eyes and felt the serenity of this place, the only place that was both paceful and totally quiet. The grass was not wet with dew yet, for the night fog had not swirled into form just yet. The flowers stood firm unlike the restless branches, and Damien sat upon a small grassy hill, all the while having trouble centering his thoughts. His mind was free of the harsh chemicals that lead to his psychotic condition, but now thoughts of days long past and those unknown haunted his every step. He had slept in awhile, for he just could not get his head to be silent.


I don't care about anyone else but me. I don't care about anyone. I don't care about anyone else but me. I don't care about anyone or anything but me.

Shaking his head abit to rattle the cobwebs out, Damien assessed his situation. On one hand, he had all the power a leader could ever wish for. The might was as enticing as a scantily clad lass, but the hared and scorn was a rotten as a raven ravaged corpse. Damien glanced at the moon over his left shoulder, and then at the darkness over his right. Should he stay engulfed in the darkness, or should he be the shining beacon of light amidst the darkness?

Goddamn I love me.


OOC: Inspired by the song "Tear Away" by Drowning Pool. If you'd like to join in this character based RP, then you are welcome. However, joining in this story may be difficult as it mostly centers around my character.

OOC: I'm a big fan of tribute RP's

Tag

OOC: Bravo. Didn't they do a song that went: "And the bodies hit the floor..."

Where was God when I needed a friend. Where was God when I came to an end. Where was God when I lost my mind. Where was God when I couldn't find....... Don't want to be up or down.

Damien got up off the ground, and summoned his driver. He walked at a steady pace towards the front of the Great Hall, and as he exited the gardens a harsh wind blew from behind him, as if to remind him of something. Or maybe it was to tell him he's jumped on the right track? Who knew, his mind was still a mess. The driver was ready by the time Damien made it around, and the driver opened the rear left door for Damien. He got inside and the driver shut the door, then got into the driver's seat and began driving. Where to My Lord? Damien already knew where he wanted to go, so he replied To the ULE City military base The driver nodded and started on his way. Damien dozed off abit, and this time his attention landed on the Gods themselves. Since his reincarnation, he ahd felt colder than normal. In ancient AMF lore, it is said that coldness is a sign of the desertion by the Gods. Had the Gods forsaken Damien, and if so for what purpose? He did indeed feel cold all the time, and he was almost positive that this was a sign from the Other Side. Had the Gods planned on Damien rising again, or could they not contain the Dread Fires? There were all these questions before Damien, and he grew frustrated because he could not answer a single one.

Where was love when I felt like hate. Where was hate when I felt like love. Where were you when you said you'd be there. Where was the fear when I said I was scared.

The car rolled into the ULE City base, home of 15,000 AMF Sentinels. Over a quarter of all Sentinels were needlessly massacred by Rayne in a vain attempt to rid herself of Damien's likeness forever. Seeing his kin again brought him warmth, the only warmth he had felt in days. Upon hearing that Dreadfire was at the base, all 15,000 awoke and assembled themselves. Damien stepped out of the car and started for a long staircase, one that led to a large observation tower. He trudged up the stairs without tiring, for he had not felt tired since he came back, for in his mind he had slept enough. Damien made his way to the top of the observation tower and stepped out onto the deck. The screams of 15,000 Sentinels murdered the silence of the night, sending their shrill cries deep into the dark beyond. Damien smiled, for his Sentinels had remained true. For sport, Damien called out in a mighty voice, Whom do you serve? In unison, 15,000 roaring Sentinels shouted back WE SERVE THE EMPIRE!!!! Damien had not spoken to his Sentinels for along time, but the reunion was bittersweet, for alot of his kin had died at the hands of Rayne. Who is your master? Damien Dreadfire!!! The Sentinels were riled into a fury, sending their screams high into the night sky, so loud that without a doubt the Gods could hear them. Damien gripped the Relic's Swords tightly, and rapidly removed it from it's scabbard. He held the sword high into the air, and the Sentinels yet again erupted.


Tell me what you believe. I'll tell you what you should see. 'Cause I don't know who to trust. My heart is filled with disgust...........I can't take this.

Damien had seen enough, for the heat generated by the Sentinel's fury kept him warm. Damien had not even had a chance to meet with Hartman, whose efforts to restore him to life have not yet been rewarded. Hartman is to be named a hero he thought. He knew of the involvment of many other nations claiming to be friends to the AMF people. Friends to the people, but not himself....not himself. Was he not just? Was he not merciful? Was he not wise? No, I am not....I am the beast I never knew, I am the whore in the darkness, I am the scared child cowering in the corner, I am the disposable hero...... Damien had strayed from his vow of Blood Pact with Pantera to stand up for those that could not fight for themselves, to slay those that would darken the world. All this he had failed, and Damien knew he had failed himself and those around him.

Ladies and Gentlemen. May I have your attention. Are you ready for the joke. Are you ready for the great deception.


OOC: Sermon, also by Drowning Pool.

OOC: Bump for the night.

OOC: Oh man, DP rocked... too bad the Dave Williams died. I loved Reminded, Sinner, and Pity the best, though.

OOC: Yes, tis a shame, but this is an RP thread. :wink:

Bump, post pending.

The ride home seemed short compared to the ride to the base. Damien sat in the back with his head on the window, thinking long and hard yet again. Thinking seemed to be all he ever did these days, but maybe that was a blessing in disguise. His thoughts were heavy on Bastien and his unusual absense from the world. The car pulled up in fron of the Great Hall, and Damien got out quickly without waiting for the driver to open the door. HE walked up the stairs at a quicker than normal pace, and as usual, his head servant greeted him as he returned home. I need Bastien the Bronze on the horn right now. I do not care what it takes, I need to speak with him. The servant bowed respectfully, and darted away down the corridors quickly to carry out Damien's order. WAIT..hold on a second. The servant stuck his head around the corner, and with a puzzled look on his face, asked Damien M'Lord? Is there something that troubles you? Damien stated walking towards the throne room, and with a gentle flick of his wrist he dismissed him. The servant nodded and silently complied, somewhat confused by Damien's state of mind.

Damein entered the throne room and began walking towards the back. The windows were drawn, and the curtains of white and red were still. The moon was alive, and it cast it's glowing light into the throne room. There was naught a candle lit nor a light on, but the room was eerily bright. Damien removed the Relic's Sword from his waist, and removed the mighty blade from it's scabbard. He held the blasde straight out in front of him, closing one eye to examine the blade. He opened his eye and took focus off the blade for a moment. He then swung the blade forcefully from side to side, so hard a distinct whooshing sound barely bounced off the walls. Side to side, faster and faster, Damien swung the blade, twirling occassionally and lifting the sword high. Sparring was Bastien's favorite activity, and Damien had been practicing when he had the time. Faster and faster he swung it, this time in full combat maneuvers. Ducking down low and hopping off the groudn, Damien imagined himself in the midst of a great battle. The smell and taste of war was unusually real to him as his mind wandered yet again.

Clanking steel and the screams of men valiantly fighting to their doom was all he heard. Bodies fell to and fro, and the ground had been stained red. A foe came forth from the masses and swung a mighty claymore at Damien's head. The Relic's Sword was stronger, and the hit was easily parried. Damien's rage grew, and the foe was soon on the defense as the Sword of the Relic swung so fast it was a near blur. The foe jabbed at Damien with his claymore and again he missed, but this time Damien grabbed the handle of his sword and thrust his elbow into the foe's face. A mist of blood filled the air followed by a cry of pain, and the villain fell flat on his backside, his left hand in the air as if to ward Damien off. Damien lifted the Relic's Sword high above his head, and preapred to disect his enemy. As he was about to bring the sword down, the villain changed form, and it was now Bastien that lay before him. Their eyes met, and in almost an instant Damien was back in the Great Hall.

Another night, another fucking vison.... with both a scown and a silent heart, Damein resheathed the mighty blade, and decided that he had better try and sleep tonight. Even though he had slept enough inside the Earth Mother, his mind grew tired.

OOC: Bump

As Damien started off for bed, he heard a noise by the weapons rack in the back of the room. The noise was the sound of a sword being drawn, and instantly Damien's eyes lowered. He clutched his sword and in a rapid spinning move, he came about and saw the source of the nosie: it was none other than The One Who Shall Remain Unnamed. He stood in the shadows wearing his usualy attire: a long black coat and a large black hat. He lifted up his head, and the moonlight revealed a smirk. Damien grinned back and headed towards the weapons rack and reached for his chain mail. The One did not remove his coat nor hat, for he already had his mail on. Damien deceided against any additional protection, and after securing his mail, he took up his sword.

The 2 began a well coriographed dance, circling eachother gracefully and silently. Damien was first to strike with an overhead blow. The One parried the strike, and came about and swung at Damien's chest with great speed. Knowing that he may lose, Damien dodged the attack by jumping backwards and retalliating with a swift jab. The jab was again blocked, and again Damien charged forward, this time letting out a bellowing roar for sport.Both swords met hard sending vibrations down the blades. The two smiled at eachother and pushed themselves backwards. The One has skill indeed... Damien thought as he aggressively swung his sword from side to side in a figure 8 pattern. The One made his move, jabbing quickly for Damien's upper chest, but the swinging action of the Relic's Sword thwarted the attack. Sparks flew as the mighty blades met again, and the cling-clang of sword stikes could be heard even outside.

The moon was high in the cloudless sky, and it's beams cast long shadows on the walls. Faster and faster they attacked eachother, trying to be the first to draw blood. Damien swung overhead again, and after The One dodged, be did a rapid spin and swung his sword at The One's legs. The One jumped several feet off the ground and let loose a jumping kick to Damien's face, knocking him down. The One moved with great coordiantion, and he feigned an over head strike, but instead swung hard sideways and connected with Damien's shoulder. Damien looked at his left shoulder and noticed a little blood running down his arm. I win. said The One matter-of-factly. He helped Damien up rom the ground, and the warlord sighed and shook his head. Cheating bastard. The two shared a great laugh.

OOC: Final bump for the night.

:sigh:

This would be alot more fun if you were here Pantera.....

OOC: Tag. Very good story line. May I join in with a song also?

OOC: Tag. Very good story line. May I join in with a song also?

OOC: Sure, if you'd like. :)

OOC: How would you like me to tie it to your character. My character is going to be somewhat a slut. Haha. That sounds bad. She is hooked on drugs to. This is set in what time? Does my character sound okay, or would you prefer something else?

OOC: How would you like me to tie it to your character. My character is going to be somewhat a slut. Haha. That sounds bad. She is hooked on drugs to. This is set in what time? Does my character sound okay, or would you prefer something else?

OOC: It's modern time for the most part. Your character's fine, I'm not too picky. I trust you know of Damien's past? If not, feel free to check out my numerous threads in the Archive. Interesting character Damien is....

OOC: No, I do not know Damien's past. Sorry. I probably won't read into it also. I just don't have that much time. i go to nursing school and have two jobs. This is my release, besides partying. I will just go with the flow. That is if you don't mind. Or you could just TG me a summary if you want to. That would be great. It is not that I don't want to know, it is just time is important. Time is what I lack. With that....

IC: ~WILL YOU WALK ME TO THE EDGE AGIAN. SHAKING LONELY. AND I AM DRINKING AGAIN.WOKE UP TONIGHT AND NO ONE'S HERE WITH ME I'M GIVING IN TO YOU.~

Jade sat on the edge of her insect eaten up sofa. The stuffing was falling out, but she couldn't let it go. She was on the corner. The garbagemen were coming shortly. She brought her pale bare legs up to her chin. She wore no shoes. Her feet were caked with the dirt and mud of the street. There was a large, the size of a soda can bottom, redish blue bruise on her inner thigh. Her jean skirt was short, barely covering her bottom, smudges of dirt and food were found on the sides. It had started to fray at the ends. Her shirt used to be black, now was gray. It was a size too small for her breasts nearly fell out. She wore no bra. Her face clear, but her eyes told a different story. Now, they frantically searched the street. She was looking for someone. Her hair still had shine to it. It was a dark brown with mahogamy lowlights in it. It touched her shoulders and her bangs always feel into her eyes. Her lips were small and a pale red. She told she would be gorgeous if she actually took care of herself and smiled. She hardly smiled.

~TAKE ME UNDER, I'M GIVING IN TO YOU. I'M DYING TONIGHT, I'M GIVING INTO YOU. WATCH ME CRUMBLE, I'M GIVING INTO YOU.~

She didn't think he was coming tonight. She still had some left. She left her chair and stumbled into the alley. She opened a wooden door. She walked onto the cement floor, stepping over the broken glass and the scattered paper and half-eaten food. The only thing in the one room was a small metal table and a small metal chair. She sat down on the chair.

~'CAUGHT UP IN LIFE LOSING ALL MY FRINENDS FAMILY HAD TRIED TO HEAL ALL MY ADDICTIONS TRAGIC IT SEEMS TO BE ALONE AGAIN.~

On the table was a small plastic board. Next to it a flat rock. On the board was a fine white powder. The rock had some residue left. Most of it had been wiped onto the board. It was in a straight line. So tempting. She closed her eyes. I am my own god. She bent down her hair touched the table and she closed one nares and took a big sniff of the white powder into the other nostril. She leaned back into the chair and closed her eyes.

~I LOOK FORWARD TO DYING TONIGHT DRINK 'TIL I'M MYSELF LIFE'S HARDER EVERYDAY. THE STRESS HAS GOT ME. I'M GIVING IN.~

Her eyes widened. She could see clearly now. She got up and walked the streets. She couldn't stop. She wouldn't stop.

OOC: "Giving In" by Adema. Great band.

The One had left the throne room, where he went Damien did not know. He replaced the Relic's Sword in it's scabbard and set it on top of the shrine in the corner. Above the shrine was a painting some 2000 years old. It depicted a bloody battle between the ancient Dictator Automagfreek and a rogue clan of Tanping, a brutal and feared clan made up of murderers and savages. Shining in the center of the painting was the Dictator holding high the sword of the Relic. The battle scene was frozen in time, and Damien had always eyed it carefully each night as he placed the sword on the shrine. He could not sleep yet again, so he did what he normally did: he stepped out into the balcony.

As he opened the doors, the white and red curtains shook madly as the crisp night air took hold of them. As Dreadfire surveyed the ULE City skyline, he noticed a lone figure stumbling in the darkness, and the figure looked worn and tired. He spotted the figure making it's way through the alley, and then a single thought popped into his head, words he had already said to himself. I am the beast I never knew, I am the whore in the darkness, I am the scared child cowering in the corner, I am the disposable hero......

After saying these words in his head again, Damien stood motionless for a second of two, then started looking around the balcony for the drainpipe. It was still there after all these years, for he had used it to skip out of the Great Hall and meet up with late night lovers. He grabbed ahold of the pipe and began sliding down to the ground. It was still strong and secure just as it always was, and Damien's feet hit the grass with a slight thud. Damien then made his way quickly through the gardens and out the front gate which had not yet been closed. He should have brought a coat of cloak, but he was in too much of a hurry. We started jogging towards the alley, and he heard a slight disturbance in the quiet. Upon further investigation, he discovered a small room, but the figure had already left. He heard the sounds of tired footsteps back in the street again, so he left with great haste.

He spotted the figure, and he could now see it was a woman. She was stumbling and mumbling about, so Damien quickened his pace. When he was no more than a few feet away, he scrapped his boot on the sidewalk so she would be sure to hear him. Towering at 7 feet, Damien was unsure if his imposing figure would frighten the lass.

~SPIN ME ROUND SPIN ME ROUND I'VE FALLEN DOWN I CANNOT SEEM TO KEEP FROM FREAKIN OUT.~

She stopped in her tracks. She heard the scuff of someone's shoe. It echoed in her head. Her head swayed a bit and she let her hands extended alittle to keep her balance. She turned around. The expression of her face was a blank. She would have had a good poker face if she was playing. This was her life, these were her chips, and this was her hand. Her face did not jump to surprise, nor did an etch of familarity creep across it. She just remained blank. Her eyes, they always told a different story. There was a lgith sparkle in them. It was buried beneath the layer of cloudiness and glaze. Her lower lip fell, then she had a flat line across her pale face. A pale red against a pale ivory white.

It was him. She saw him in her dreams. Is she dreaming now. No. She felt the wind ripple on her shirt and tease her hair. She blinked. Why here why now.

She spoke softly, but clear enough to be heard. "Damien."

~I CANNOT SEEM TO KEEP FROM FREAKIN OUT.~
OOC: "Freakin out" Adema again.

OOC: Waiting on Damien's response, Automagfreek.

OOC: Sorry, been busy.


Damien starred deep into the woman's eyes. He spoke not a word nor made gesture save for a slight nod, but turned his back and began walking towards the main hall. He wanted the woman to follow him, and he turned his shoulder as he continued walking only to see the woamn close on his heels. The walk back to the Great Hall felt like seconds, and Damien decided that they should probably go through the back door. The guards stood motionless at the front gates as Damien and the woman passed, and instead of heading in the front door he lead her straight to the back. The air instantly changed from cold to warm as they stepped inside, and the door creaked ever so slightly as Damien gently closed it. He led her up a large wooden staircase that ascended several stories.

As the finished the climb, they made a few turns both right and left, and Damien opened the massive doors to his private quarters. His room was much different than the rest of the elegant Hall, for it seemed disconnected. Only curtains of black covered the windows, and there was only faint candlelight to see. Damien turned and paused, and looked the woman up and down. His first thought was Whore.....what a pathetic creature...she deserves to be severed from this cold world..... As he thought this, his mind switched gears yet again. He sighed and turned his back on the lass, and with a long exhale he said There is a walk in closet on your left. Next to that is the washroom complete with a large shower. Make yourself at home, and feel free to choose amongst the clothes inside the closet, for they once belonged to someone I loved......

((OOC: Interesting! *Claps hands!* By the by, TAG!))

She followed him, not being able to move in the opposite way. Her mind told her to not follow, but her body did otherwise. She followed him into the great hall. She stopped when he did. He told her to clean up. Her eyes watered a bit and she turned away. She felt disgusting. She walked into the room and stripped off her clothes. She saw her reflection in a long mirror proped up against the wall. She stared. She couldn't get over how different she looked. She had no memory of this person. She pried her eyes away and went to the shower. She let the scalding hot water run off the caked on dirt and wash away her salty tears.

She stepped out of the shower. Her skin was soft, but her finger tips had started to wrinkle. She wrapped a towel around her. She paused before stepping out into the room.

OOC: Automagfreek, I need to know what kind of clothes are in the closet. Or maybe it would just be easier if your character had laid some out for her. He had picked an outfit for her to wear.

OOC: Sorry for letting this slip. There's mostly elegant gowns in the closet, for Xel (Damien's ex lover) was very well dressed. Feel free to come up with something to wear that suits your character. And sorry for the short post.

IC:

Damien had been sitting in his chair the whole time while the lady was in the shower. He did not even ask for her name yet, and he felt abit taken back by her very nature. He had been wondering what her life's story was...where she's been, what she's done. He did not know if he could ask these kinds of questions, for he feared he might drum up bad memories. As the water in the shower stopped, Damien looked away from the door. He did not want to peep at the lass as she made her way to the closet.

As the door creaked open, Damien said softly. Whatever's in the closet is yours, for I have no need for it anymore.

She opened the large chestnut closet doors. They squeeked a bit. She gasped in amazement. She had not seen this arrangement of clothing in a long time. A scene crept back into her mind, oddly vivid. There she was standing before two large white oak doors. She opened them, strangely her hands were small. She looked over the dresses. They were mostly pink and tiny. She put one on and stepped infront of the mirror and laughed.

A giggle escaped from her thin lips. She sighed. Her memories always haunted her, she never knew if they were correct or not. She noticed stuffed in the back a very small, black dress. She grabbed it and pulled it into the light.

It shimmered under the soft light. She slide it on and was surprised how it fit. It was if it was meant for her. It was dangerously low cut. The dress fell slightly to the floor. She found some black strapped heels and put them on. She didn't bother looking in the mirror to see how the dress looked. She walked into the bathroom and looked into the small head mirror. Her face actually had colour to it. She eyed a comb and ran it through her hair. Then she took her fingers and played with her hair. It fell messy around her face, each strand acting as it own. She was finished. She walked over to where she heard Damien's voice. It beckoned her. She couldn't get away from it. She stood in front of him and asked, "How do I look?"

Damien turned about and stood as he heard the soft voice, for he was slightly startled to hear her speak. He gazed upon the fair damsel with easy eyes, for it had been awhile since he had the company of a woman. Although she was still weary from being out in the cold, Damien was abit taken back by her appearance. She had picked out one of Xel's favorite dresses, and in a sudden rush old memories came back to him.

He inhaled deeply and wet his lips quickly before speaking. You look ravishing. It has been many long years since a body filled that gown, but it suits you well. You may keep it, along with any other items you may find inside the closet, for it has been many moons since I had to company of a woman. Being a leader of an Empire isn't easy, and you don't always have time for leisure.

Damien was begining to trail off abit, but he caught himself. Although it is late, I can order the kitchen open. I would like you to dine with me, for there is much we need to discuss. I do not believe in chance nor coincidence, for it truely was fate that brought us together, here in this moment. I will leave you to yourself for a few moments while I rouse the cooks.

Damien started towards to door, trying not to stare at her. He opened the door with haste, but shut it softly, making no sound.

She turned her head slighty to his voice. She had no idea how to react to him, she just wanted to react. She wanted to do anything he asked of her. How odd that he had not entertained other woman. Why her? What was he implying? She was willing to do whatever. She wished him to stay at her side. She was growing ever so addicted to him. Her body craved his eyes on her. What was she going to do? All she could do was wait.