Automagfreek
07-04-2004, 04:33
<Where we left off>
All the top leaders of AMF had been at the Great Hall all afternoon. Lord Dreadfire had been beaming, for the reports all indicated that soon Automagfreek would have over 2 billion citizens. 2 billion.. Damien kept thinking to himself. Long gone are the days when the Hoardsmen numbered in the thousands. To think that I would be here to witness this moment.
Minister Hartman, John Kimble, Samuel Jackson and the likes all sat around in casual discussion, the occasional laugh penetrating the calm atmosphere. So what are your thoughts Damien? Hartman shouted over to the Warlord. Damien ran his hand across his rough chin, and began nodding slowly. I agree, I think that the time has come, for it is the 8th Age of Automagfreek after all. The dignitaries all nodded and expressed their agreement.
Then let it be done then.
***
High atop the mountains of the ULE Valley, Damien stood overlooking his Empire. Though the frost covered peaks were cold and unforgiving, the Warlord cared not. It is time. This day had been long predicted, and now the scriptures hold true. Damien lowered his head and began chanting in the forgotten tongues of old. As the words spilled from his mouth, his eyes rolled back, and he lifted his mighty arms and held them at his side.
As he changed faster and faster, the sky began to darken, and the waters surrounding AMF began to stir. Dreadfire raised his arms higher and higher, and they were now perfectly outstretched at his sides. Upon saying the closing passage, he lifted his head towards the sky, and with one final motion raised his arms above his head, and sent them crashing down.
Thunder clapped, and the seas danced violently. A black cloud had covered the lands of Automagfreek, but this was no ordinary cloud. From space, the Freekish satellites could not see their homeland, but from the ground, the suns rays still shinned through. Damien had a smile across his face. The blanket of the Gods has been cast, and all the pieces are now in place. Let us remained unseen by the world now, let us steal ourselves. We must shelter ourselves from the traps that are sets for us. We must tend to ourselves now.
***
(In a transmission across the world, The One stood in front of the large fireplace inside the Great Hall. The room was dark save for the wicked light of the burning fire. The One lifted his head, his large hat shadowing his face. He spoke for only a brief moment.
When the bell tolls 3, he will come.
***Months prior***
<Location: The Halls of the Dead>
The Halls had become overcrowded with stiffs since Dreadfire's return, and almost everyday it got worse. For every sinner purged from the Earth, more space was consumed. The bodies of the dead are displayed to not only serve as a reminder, but is it believed that if the body is punished until it turns to dust, the soul may be redeemed. But it had gotten to a point where they had to make more room for the new arrivals, so for months they began digging. Gradually spiraling downward, the new corridors were carefully carved out of the stone and Earth at a painstaking pace. Only a few workers could be down there at a time, for not only was the stench of corpses sickening, the threat of a cave-in was present. It was the night shift, the most boring shift of them all. Only 3 workers were down in the Halls, chipping through stone and clay inch by inch.
Another bullshit night spent in this hellhole...
Another worker looked up from his shoveling, and muttered Shut the hell up, nobody wants to hear you bitch, bitch.
The workers grumbled at each-other and returned to their work. Another half hour of noise came and passed, and the drilling machine was shut down yet again to clear a jammed rock. Fuckin' thing can't go 10 minutes without jamming...
The same disgruntled worker complained. Yet again, a surly reply followed. Quite whining like a bitch and unjam it already!
The worker tried several times to clear the jam, but to no avail. It must have been a large stone, because the drill head just would not spin no matter how hard the worker jabbed at the stone. His coworker had already lost his patience twice, and in a huff he pushed the man out of the way and tried clearing the rock.
Hey, I have this under control! In an explosion of anger, he threw a shovel at the freshly drilled hole. That's right, break even more shit genius!
A crumbling sounds was heard, and the men looked at the hole they were digging in the wall....it was collapsing. Cave-in!!!! shouted the third worker, who up until now was silent. The dirt and clay crumbled and fell, but not much damage was done. Phew....I certainly didn't want to die in this place....
They peered at the hole they were digging, and in the darkness they thought they could see something. Their curiosity got the best of them, and they grabbed their flashlights and proceeded to the hole. They moved closer, shining their flashlights on the spot of the collapse, and in front of them was a section of what looked like a set of stone doors. What the hell... muttered one of the men. In an instant they all got the same idea, to clear the site and investigate this find. They used their shovels and pickaxes instead of the drill machine, for they did not want to damage a possibly historic find. About an hour passed, and the site has hastily cleared. Towering before them was indeed a large set of stone doors with ancient writing on them. The three men starred in amazement at this odd find. Was it a back door to the Tomb of the Mutilated? Was it another section of the torture facility that was lost up until now?
*
The One Who Shall Remain Unnamed hovered above the three men watching them work. Having been spat up from the Tomb itself, The One regularly spent his time floating above the entrance, keeping it safe. As the three men moved closer and tried to open the door, The One materialized. He kicked a stone to stir the silence, for if he spoke it surely would scare the men to death. They spun around in a flash, and saw The One coming toward them. The three men recognized him from TV, when he would stand next to Dreadfire during all his important speeches. They said not a word, but instead parted and allowed him to advance on the door. What is it? One of the men whispered. The One peered at the door, and read the writing scrawled across it. Abandon all hope, ye who enter the Vault of Souls. The One said slowly, deciphering the ancient tongues of the Freeks that were long forgotten. The One moved closer and grabbed ahold of one of the handles, and grunting loud he broke the seal of the door. A great rush of cold chilled the three men to their bones, and they immediately covered up. The One was not mortal, so he was not affected by the arctic blast. He motioned for the men to stay there, and taking up a flashlight he entered, leaving the door open. For the first 50 feet or so, there was not much to see, let alone any light. It was not until the light from the Halls grew dim that The One saw his first sight inside the Vault.
A blueish light broke the darkness, and The One moved closer to what looked like a foyer. He noticed things on the walls, and he turned the flashlight towards them. Blue capsules aligned the walls, and The One moved closer and peered into it's mysterious midnight glow. He recognized what he saw, for he had seen them before.....thousands of dead souls, entombed in ice. The One was in awe of what he was seeing, and as he extended his unworldly hand to touch the object, the flashlight went dead. His eyes adjusted to the light in an instant, and an eerie blue glow began filling the room. He noticed a white vapor coming from his mouth, and he began shaking. His body was cold, and the air temperature dropped to triple negative numbers. The One dropped to his knees, icicles forming all about him. White flakes covered his hat and coat, and The One began back peddling. He moved double quick back to the entrance, and the three men rushed towards him as he exited. He was still white with frost and shaking.
How can I feel cold? I do not exist in flesh and blood... The One chattered. As one of the men took a step towards to the door to investigate, The One mustered his energy and shouted NO! You mustn't go in there! For if the winds of the deep chill one such as I, a dweller of the Underworld, it would surely turn a mortal into pure ice. There is only one that could last inside there..
A bellowing noise echoed off the walls, and the 4 ditched their items and ran down the corridors. The One looked behind him, and he saw a ghastly figure in the doorway of the Vault.
http://www.angelfire.com/super2/freekisland/TAKER.jpg
***
Damien had finally fallen asleep, for it had been days since his head touched a pillow. He lay motionless in his bed with his mind at ease, dreaming the usual dream. It had not been more than an hour since his slumber starred, and The One burst through the doors and ran to Damien's bedside. The One could not dematerialize, for he was still chilled all the way through. He attempted to rustle Damien from his bed, but the warlord still slept. The One shook him harder, and out of nowhere Damien thrust an 8 inch knife into the gut of The One, the same knife he kept under his pillow every night.
Oh, it's you. Damien said as he removed the undirtied knife. He noticed something was wrong simply by looking at The One, for his eyes were large, and his body quivered.
What is it? speak up man! Damien rose from bed, fully alert now. The One spoke with a chatter in his voice, and he tried to explain what happened as best he could. Damien, there is a great disturbance in the Halls. The miners dug too deep, and we've unearthed something strange.....something even I have no memory of. Inside was something not of this realm, or possibly the next realm. Inside dwell a great cold....a great bluster.....
Damien's expression was grim. Obviously something is wrong if it has hampered your spirits. One such as yourself only shows one emotion: no emotion.
The One began warming up, and gradually removed his hands from his long coat. I think you need to see this wonder with your own eyes Lord Dreadfire, for surely one as fiery as you should not grow cold in such a place.
Damien threw on his usual attire and prepared to make for the Halls. Another night's sleep lost... he thought.
The night air was warm as Damien exited the Great Hall and made for his car. The One followed closely behind, for he still was chilled and could not dematerialize. As soon as the doors were shut, the driver took off in a hurry. The Halls were not too far away, and at the speed the driver was going, they arrived in almost no time. I must warn you Damien, there is something amiss down there.....there is a dweller the likes of which I have never experienced. The One said with his voice still shaking.
The car had arrived at it's destination, and the driver stopped the vehicle and quickly exited to open Damien's door. As the driver grabbed the handle, the door shot open and caused him to stumble backwards. Damien had let himself out, and he stood with a puzzled look on his face as he watched fog seep out from the cracks in the stone doors and roll down the stairs. As he exhaled, he noticed his breath was visable.....but the temperature was in the high 60's.
Damien began walking towards the stairs, but then he paused. He looked behind him and noticed The One had dematerialized. Coward. He thought as he climbed the few dozen stairs. He opened the large stone doors and made his way through the foyer area. He noticed ice patterns on the walls and ceiling, and he stopped for a second and drew a deep breath. Several minutes later, after making his way downstairs to the actual Halls of the Dead, Damien noticed that although the entire room was now sheathed in ice, the thousands of corpses that lined the walls were not. This perplexed him, and he ventured on.
After passing the main torture room, he noticed a sharp drop in temperature, and the hairs on his arms stood on end. A slight breeze blew up from the hole in the wall that was about 100 yards down. He bit his lips and reassured himself that there was nothing living nor dead that could overcome him.
Whatever dwells in MY Halls had better beware, for no cold can suffocate the Dread Fires. I fear neither man nor beast, living or dead.
And with that, Damien gathered himself and made way for the hole.
As Damien entered the chamber, he noticed a shuffle in the darkness. He peered and strained to adjust his eyes to the darkness as he continued onward. He noticed the figure had paused, and began slowly turning about. The figure wore a large hat that shielded almost his entire face, and his cloak was long and black. The figure raised his head ever so slightly, only to reveal a menacing grin. Dreadfire scowled and began advancing on the figure, only to have the strange being fade into the blackness that surrounded him. Damien's head jerked frantically to and fro, trying to locate the figure which had now disappeared. The blue light began to fade, and as it did Dreadfire exited the pit quietly. This had been an experience he would never forget.
***
<Present day>
It had been many years since the veil had been lifted, and since that fateful day the world went awry. Things were much the same inside Automagfreek as it was anywhere else, except for one thing. Damien had lost faith in himself and his dreams. From dawn till dusk he sit around the Great Hall in a depression, hardly ever stepping out into the light. His beard had been left untrimmed for years, it's black mass gnarled ever so slightly together. His hair had grown long as well, passing his elbows, but unlike his beard he kept it somewhat neat.
The weapons rack inside the throne room had gathered alot of dust and cobwebs having not been used in ages. He was a mess...
until one fateful day when news from the outside had finally arrived. Damien was handed a newspaper and told by his servant to open the first page. The now passive Warlord scanned the pages slowly stopping only after seeing a small black and white picture. He squinted to make out the figure which was shrouded in black, but after a second of two his eyes went agape, then lowered as his face tightened into a scowl. The headline read "Crimmond changes leadership! Country in unrest!" As Dreadfire read this, he had a flashback to the day he encountered this entity. He felt the chill once again as he remembered that twisted evil grin.....
So, it looks like this specter has finally found a way past the trans-dimensional gates. Very clever. Only one so gifted could possibly do that.... Damien said to himself, stroking his beard gently. He then slammed his hands on his table and rose in a huff, and as he did this the large bell atop Dawn's Cathedral in ULE City tolled once, it's loud trembling BONG echoing through the streets. He walked into the bathroom and shut the door quietly behind him. He glared at the mirror long and hard, examining the stranger standing before him. He tightened his lip and lifted his head ever so slightly, turning his face from side to side. He ran his hands through his course beard and mustache. He then lifted his arms to the back of his head and lifted his long black hair up and let it fall gracefully about his shoulders. Was this the man he had become? He did not even recognize his own reflection, and he sighed deeply as the ran his fingers through his hair and beard once more. He then remembered the words of his blood brother, Bastien the Bronze of Pantera. Where my life is now. Peace is a curse Dreadfire. Not a blessing. Too long without the heat and hate of War and men like you and I go to rust. Well, I can tell you that I am Steel and Stone to this day. Believe that!
Damien missed his old friend as his mind slipped further back in time to another place where the two blood brothers interacted. Tell me you would rather sit here with a pen in your fist, politicking and plotting, and I will tell you you are a liar. Bastien was right all along. Every word he said made perfect sense now. There is a time and place for war Damien said aloud. The place is Automagfreek.....and the time is now. With these words, the large bell at the Cathedral tolled for a second time, BONG, but louder now. Dust and debris fell from the old tower as the bell swung to and fro.
Damien marched back into the bathroom and with great haste opened the medicine cabinet. He grabbed the scissors and began hacking into his beard growth. Large tuffs of facial hair fell into the sink as Damien hacked and sliced his way down to his skin. He picked up a razor and without wetting it began mopping up the remaining growth until nothing but a faint goatee remained. Just the way he liked it. He grabbed a handful of his black locks and stretched it outward. Giving it one final glance he took the scissors to his head this time. The white bathroom floor was black with hair as Damien chopped off his hair without hesitation. He glanced down at the razor blade and tightened his lip a bit. He rummaged through the medicine cabinet and found his electrical razor, and with a flick of a switch it came to life.
Around ten minutes later, Damien had his cue-ball look back. He was satisfied with himself again, and he confidently exited the bathroom. He noticed that the TV in his room was on, although nobody had entered and he certainly did not turn it on. He sat on his large throne and watched as the anchors touched briefly on the stories of the day. Metus meddles in ICEP...Crimmond's new leader deemed dangerous..... Damien switched off the TV in disgust. So much had happened since he had withdrawn from the world, and although the world may have forgotten the Dread Fires, he certainly had not forgotten the world. The TV turned on again, and Damien jumped from his seat, glancing around the room with an angry eye. This was somebody's sick joke, and he would not fall for it.
The anchor's voice was loud as he read the next headline, Tersanctus begins massive military buildup... Damien's attention was now fixed solely on the TV. When asked about the reasons for this buildup, Edmund Dantes said only "Because soon HE will be among us.... Damien felt his heart skip a beat, for he knew exactly what Dantes was saying. So, I guess I am a tool of fate, eh Bastien? Damien said aloud to his friend, although the two were not together. He heard the large brass bell toll once more, BONG, and as it did dogs throughout the country began to howl a pitiful howl, and birds began taking to the skies.
You see us coming and you altogether run for cover. We're taking over this town.
-Pantera: Cowboys From Hell-
The Warlord's thoughts drifted once again to the words of the Lord Reaver. "But Dreadfire.... It's never too late to take it all back, eh? Once we spoke of reclaiming glories long forgotten, did we not? We dreamed of living lives that would once again inspire songs....Well, I'll admit that I've lived a life worthy of a bawdy song, fit to be sung in whorehouses and taverns across the earth. Well Gods be damned, that is not the song for me! Winds Damien, I want men to sing of my exploits in battle, not bed. I want these craven dogs to tremble at my f--- name and crumble at my coming. I want my father's father and all the Reavers of my line to Sing my Songs when I finally lie down my sword and take my place among them in Valhalla. "
Yes, the time was now. The bell has tolled three, and now he will come.
***
A transmission broke the airwaves at exactly 10:13 p.m..
The picture is out of focus as it slowly fades up from black. A voice pierces the quiet.
When the bell tolls three, he will come. A prophecy made long ago by the ancient wise men. Their words have been a backdrop for many an event, such as World War 4 and World War 5. Now, their words hold true again, for the Veil of the Gods has finally been lifted.
The Flame Still Burns, so Sleep Now In The Fire as a New Dawn arises. On this day I say to you that the blood of the wicked will flow like a river, and the Supreme Warlord will spread his wings and be the vengeful striking hammer of the Gods.
The picture comes into focus, and it is the face of Damien Dreadfire.
The Flame Returns as the Destroyer cometh.
http://207.44.246.95/40/9/upload/p3403.jpg (http://home.eznet.net/%7Edeck/fe/Finger%20Eleven_Slow%20Chemical.mp3)
---Damien the Destroyer---
-Supreme Warlord of AMF-
Ruler of The Ancient Republic of Greek Forces, The Silent Protectorate of Old Frankland, The Holy Kingdom of The Royal Knights, The Mentally Superior Republic of Arrogant Uber Geniuses, The Raving Lunatics of Hackers Demise
The picture cuts immediately to black and silence.
OOC: Is this a temporary comback? Most likely. Something permanent? Not sure at this time. My schedule is really packed this year, but I had a free moment, so here it is, the thread that's been a month in the making.
Cheers.
All the top leaders of AMF had been at the Great Hall all afternoon. Lord Dreadfire had been beaming, for the reports all indicated that soon Automagfreek would have over 2 billion citizens. 2 billion.. Damien kept thinking to himself. Long gone are the days when the Hoardsmen numbered in the thousands. To think that I would be here to witness this moment.
Minister Hartman, John Kimble, Samuel Jackson and the likes all sat around in casual discussion, the occasional laugh penetrating the calm atmosphere. So what are your thoughts Damien? Hartman shouted over to the Warlord. Damien ran his hand across his rough chin, and began nodding slowly. I agree, I think that the time has come, for it is the 8th Age of Automagfreek after all. The dignitaries all nodded and expressed their agreement.
Then let it be done then.
***
High atop the mountains of the ULE Valley, Damien stood overlooking his Empire. Though the frost covered peaks were cold and unforgiving, the Warlord cared not. It is time. This day had been long predicted, and now the scriptures hold true. Damien lowered his head and began chanting in the forgotten tongues of old. As the words spilled from his mouth, his eyes rolled back, and he lifted his mighty arms and held them at his side.
As he changed faster and faster, the sky began to darken, and the waters surrounding AMF began to stir. Dreadfire raised his arms higher and higher, and they were now perfectly outstretched at his sides. Upon saying the closing passage, he lifted his head towards the sky, and with one final motion raised his arms above his head, and sent them crashing down.
Thunder clapped, and the seas danced violently. A black cloud had covered the lands of Automagfreek, but this was no ordinary cloud. From space, the Freekish satellites could not see their homeland, but from the ground, the suns rays still shinned through. Damien had a smile across his face. The blanket of the Gods has been cast, and all the pieces are now in place. Let us remained unseen by the world now, let us steal ourselves. We must shelter ourselves from the traps that are sets for us. We must tend to ourselves now.
***
(In a transmission across the world, The One stood in front of the large fireplace inside the Great Hall. The room was dark save for the wicked light of the burning fire. The One lifted his head, his large hat shadowing his face. He spoke for only a brief moment.
When the bell tolls 3, he will come.
***Months prior***
<Location: The Halls of the Dead>
The Halls had become overcrowded with stiffs since Dreadfire's return, and almost everyday it got worse. For every sinner purged from the Earth, more space was consumed. The bodies of the dead are displayed to not only serve as a reminder, but is it believed that if the body is punished until it turns to dust, the soul may be redeemed. But it had gotten to a point where they had to make more room for the new arrivals, so for months they began digging. Gradually spiraling downward, the new corridors were carefully carved out of the stone and Earth at a painstaking pace. Only a few workers could be down there at a time, for not only was the stench of corpses sickening, the threat of a cave-in was present. It was the night shift, the most boring shift of them all. Only 3 workers were down in the Halls, chipping through stone and clay inch by inch.
Another bullshit night spent in this hellhole...
Another worker looked up from his shoveling, and muttered Shut the hell up, nobody wants to hear you bitch, bitch.
The workers grumbled at each-other and returned to their work. Another half hour of noise came and passed, and the drilling machine was shut down yet again to clear a jammed rock. Fuckin' thing can't go 10 minutes without jamming...
The same disgruntled worker complained. Yet again, a surly reply followed. Quite whining like a bitch and unjam it already!
The worker tried several times to clear the jam, but to no avail. It must have been a large stone, because the drill head just would not spin no matter how hard the worker jabbed at the stone. His coworker had already lost his patience twice, and in a huff he pushed the man out of the way and tried clearing the rock.
Hey, I have this under control! In an explosion of anger, he threw a shovel at the freshly drilled hole. That's right, break even more shit genius!
A crumbling sounds was heard, and the men looked at the hole they were digging in the wall....it was collapsing. Cave-in!!!! shouted the third worker, who up until now was silent. The dirt and clay crumbled and fell, but not much damage was done. Phew....I certainly didn't want to die in this place....
They peered at the hole they were digging, and in the darkness they thought they could see something. Their curiosity got the best of them, and they grabbed their flashlights and proceeded to the hole. They moved closer, shining their flashlights on the spot of the collapse, and in front of them was a section of what looked like a set of stone doors. What the hell... muttered one of the men. In an instant they all got the same idea, to clear the site and investigate this find. They used their shovels and pickaxes instead of the drill machine, for they did not want to damage a possibly historic find. About an hour passed, and the site has hastily cleared. Towering before them was indeed a large set of stone doors with ancient writing on them. The three men starred in amazement at this odd find. Was it a back door to the Tomb of the Mutilated? Was it another section of the torture facility that was lost up until now?
*
The One Who Shall Remain Unnamed hovered above the three men watching them work. Having been spat up from the Tomb itself, The One regularly spent his time floating above the entrance, keeping it safe. As the three men moved closer and tried to open the door, The One materialized. He kicked a stone to stir the silence, for if he spoke it surely would scare the men to death. They spun around in a flash, and saw The One coming toward them. The three men recognized him from TV, when he would stand next to Dreadfire during all his important speeches. They said not a word, but instead parted and allowed him to advance on the door. What is it? One of the men whispered. The One peered at the door, and read the writing scrawled across it. Abandon all hope, ye who enter the Vault of Souls. The One said slowly, deciphering the ancient tongues of the Freeks that were long forgotten. The One moved closer and grabbed ahold of one of the handles, and grunting loud he broke the seal of the door. A great rush of cold chilled the three men to their bones, and they immediately covered up. The One was not mortal, so he was not affected by the arctic blast. He motioned for the men to stay there, and taking up a flashlight he entered, leaving the door open. For the first 50 feet or so, there was not much to see, let alone any light. It was not until the light from the Halls grew dim that The One saw his first sight inside the Vault.
A blueish light broke the darkness, and The One moved closer to what looked like a foyer. He noticed things on the walls, and he turned the flashlight towards them. Blue capsules aligned the walls, and The One moved closer and peered into it's mysterious midnight glow. He recognized what he saw, for he had seen them before.....thousands of dead souls, entombed in ice. The One was in awe of what he was seeing, and as he extended his unworldly hand to touch the object, the flashlight went dead. His eyes adjusted to the light in an instant, and an eerie blue glow began filling the room. He noticed a white vapor coming from his mouth, and he began shaking. His body was cold, and the air temperature dropped to triple negative numbers. The One dropped to his knees, icicles forming all about him. White flakes covered his hat and coat, and The One began back peddling. He moved double quick back to the entrance, and the three men rushed towards him as he exited. He was still white with frost and shaking.
How can I feel cold? I do not exist in flesh and blood... The One chattered. As one of the men took a step towards to the door to investigate, The One mustered his energy and shouted NO! You mustn't go in there! For if the winds of the deep chill one such as I, a dweller of the Underworld, it would surely turn a mortal into pure ice. There is only one that could last inside there..
A bellowing noise echoed off the walls, and the 4 ditched their items and ran down the corridors. The One looked behind him, and he saw a ghastly figure in the doorway of the Vault.
http://www.angelfire.com/super2/freekisland/TAKER.jpg
***
Damien had finally fallen asleep, for it had been days since his head touched a pillow. He lay motionless in his bed with his mind at ease, dreaming the usual dream. It had not been more than an hour since his slumber starred, and The One burst through the doors and ran to Damien's bedside. The One could not dematerialize, for he was still chilled all the way through. He attempted to rustle Damien from his bed, but the warlord still slept. The One shook him harder, and out of nowhere Damien thrust an 8 inch knife into the gut of The One, the same knife he kept under his pillow every night.
Oh, it's you. Damien said as he removed the undirtied knife. He noticed something was wrong simply by looking at The One, for his eyes were large, and his body quivered.
What is it? speak up man! Damien rose from bed, fully alert now. The One spoke with a chatter in his voice, and he tried to explain what happened as best he could. Damien, there is a great disturbance in the Halls. The miners dug too deep, and we've unearthed something strange.....something even I have no memory of. Inside was something not of this realm, or possibly the next realm. Inside dwell a great cold....a great bluster.....
Damien's expression was grim. Obviously something is wrong if it has hampered your spirits. One such as yourself only shows one emotion: no emotion.
The One began warming up, and gradually removed his hands from his long coat. I think you need to see this wonder with your own eyes Lord Dreadfire, for surely one as fiery as you should not grow cold in such a place.
Damien threw on his usual attire and prepared to make for the Halls. Another night's sleep lost... he thought.
The night air was warm as Damien exited the Great Hall and made for his car. The One followed closely behind, for he still was chilled and could not dematerialize. As soon as the doors were shut, the driver took off in a hurry. The Halls were not too far away, and at the speed the driver was going, they arrived in almost no time. I must warn you Damien, there is something amiss down there.....there is a dweller the likes of which I have never experienced. The One said with his voice still shaking.
The car had arrived at it's destination, and the driver stopped the vehicle and quickly exited to open Damien's door. As the driver grabbed the handle, the door shot open and caused him to stumble backwards. Damien had let himself out, and he stood with a puzzled look on his face as he watched fog seep out from the cracks in the stone doors and roll down the stairs. As he exhaled, he noticed his breath was visable.....but the temperature was in the high 60's.
Damien began walking towards the stairs, but then he paused. He looked behind him and noticed The One had dematerialized. Coward. He thought as he climbed the few dozen stairs. He opened the large stone doors and made his way through the foyer area. He noticed ice patterns on the walls and ceiling, and he stopped for a second and drew a deep breath. Several minutes later, after making his way downstairs to the actual Halls of the Dead, Damien noticed that although the entire room was now sheathed in ice, the thousands of corpses that lined the walls were not. This perplexed him, and he ventured on.
After passing the main torture room, he noticed a sharp drop in temperature, and the hairs on his arms stood on end. A slight breeze blew up from the hole in the wall that was about 100 yards down. He bit his lips and reassured himself that there was nothing living nor dead that could overcome him.
Whatever dwells in MY Halls had better beware, for no cold can suffocate the Dread Fires. I fear neither man nor beast, living or dead.
And with that, Damien gathered himself and made way for the hole.
As Damien entered the chamber, he noticed a shuffle in the darkness. He peered and strained to adjust his eyes to the darkness as he continued onward. He noticed the figure had paused, and began slowly turning about. The figure wore a large hat that shielded almost his entire face, and his cloak was long and black. The figure raised his head ever so slightly, only to reveal a menacing grin. Dreadfire scowled and began advancing on the figure, only to have the strange being fade into the blackness that surrounded him. Damien's head jerked frantically to and fro, trying to locate the figure which had now disappeared. The blue light began to fade, and as it did Dreadfire exited the pit quietly. This had been an experience he would never forget.
***
<Present day>
It had been many years since the veil had been lifted, and since that fateful day the world went awry. Things were much the same inside Automagfreek as it was anywhere else, except for one thing. Damien had lost faith in himself and his dreams. From dawn till dusk he sit around the Great Hall in a depression, hardly ever stepping out into the light. His beard had been left untrimmed for years, it's black mass gnarled ever so slightly together. His hair had grown long as well, passing his elbows, but unlike his beard he kept it somewhat neat.
The weapons rack inside the throne room had gathered alot of dust and cobwebs having not been used in ages. He was a mess...
until one fateful day when news from the outside had finally arrived. Damien was handed a newspaper and told by his servant to open the first page. The now passive Warlord scanned the pages slowly stopping only after seeing a small black and white picture. He squinted to make out the figure which was shrouded in black, but after a second of two his eyes went agape, then lowered as his face tightened into a scowl. The headline read "Crimmond changes leadership! Country in unrest!" As Dreadfire read this, he had a flashback to the day he encountered this entity. He felt the chill once again as he remembered that twisted evil grin.....
So, it looks like this specter has finally found a way past the trans-dimensional gates. Very clever. Only one so gifted could possibly do that.... Damien said to himself, stroking his beard gently. He then slammed his hands on his table and rose in a huff, and as he did this the large bell atop Dawn's Cathedral in ULE City tolled once, it's loud trembling BONG echoing through the streets. He walked into the bathroom and shut the door quietly behind him. He glared at the mirror long and hard, examining the stranger standing before him. He tightened his lip and lifted his head ever so slightly, turning his face from side to side. He ran his hands through his course beard and mustache. He then lifted his arms to the back of his head and lifted his long black hair up and let it fall gracefully about his shoulders. Was this the man he had become? He did not even recognize his own reflection, and he sighed deeply as the ran his fingers through his hair and beard once more. He then remembered the words of his blood brother, Bastien the Bronze of Pantera. Where my life is now. Peace is a curse Dreadfire. Not a blessing. Too long without the heat and hate of War and men like you and I go to rust. Well, I can tell you that I am Steel and Stone to this day. Believe that!
Damien missed his old friend as his mind slipped further back in time to another place where the two blood brothers interacted. Tell me you would rather sit here with a pen in your fist, politicking and plotting, and I will tell you you are a liar. Bastien was right all along. Every word he said made perfect sense now. There is a time and place for war Damien said aloud. The place is Automagfreek.....and the time is now. With these words, the large bell at the Cathedral tolled for a second time, BONG, but louder now. Dust and debris fell from the old tower as the bell swung to and fro.
Damien marched back into the bathroom and with great haste opened the medicine cabinet. He grabbed the scissors and began hacking into his beard growth. Large tuffs of facial hair fell into the sink as Damien hacked and sliced his way down to his skin. He picked up a razor and without wetting it began mopping up the remaining growth until nothing but a faint goatee remained. Just the way he liked it. He grabbed a handful of his black locks and stretched it outward. Giving it one final glance he took the scissors to his head this time. The white bathroom floor was black with hair as Damien chopped off his hair without hesitation. He glanced down at the razor blade and tightened his lip a bit. He rummaged through the medicine cabinet and found his electrical razor, and with a flick of a switch it came to life.
Around ten minutes later, Damien had his cue-ball look back. He was satisfied with himself again, and he confidently exited the bathroom. He noticed that the TV in his room was on, although nobody had entered and he certainly did not turn it on. He sat on his large throne and watched as the anchors touched briefly on the stories of the day. Metus meddles in ICEP...Crimmond's new leader deemed dangerous..... Damien switched off the TV in disgust. So much had happened since he had withdrawn from the world, and although the world may have forgotten the Dread Fires, he certainly had not forgotten the world. The TV turned on again, and Damien jumped from his seat, glancing around the room with an angry eye. This was somebody's sick joke, and he would not fall for it.
The anchor's voice was loud as he read the next headline, Tersanctus begins massive military buildup... Damien's attention was now fixed solely on the TV. When asked about the reasons for this buildup, Edmund Dantes said only "Because soon HE will be among us.... Damien felt his heart skip a beat, for he knew exactly what Dantes was saying. So, I guess I am a tool of fate, eh Bastien? Damien said aloud to his friend, although the two were not together. He heard the large brass bell toll once more, BONG, and as it did dogs throughout the country began to howl a pitiful howl, and birds began taking to the skies.
You see us coming and you altogether run for cover. We're taking over this town.
-Pantera: Cowboys From Hell-
The Warlord's thoughts drifted once again to the words of the Lord Reaver. "But Dreadfire.... It's never too late to take it all back, eh? Once we spoke of reclaiming glories long forgotten, did we not? We dreamed of living lives that would once again inspire songs....Well, I'll admit that I've lived a life worthy of a bawdy song, fit to be sung in whorehouses and taverns across the earth. Well Gods be damned, that is not the song for me! Winds Damien, I want men to sing of my exploits in battle, not bed. I want these craven dogs to tremble at my f--- name and crumble at my coming. I want my father's father and all the Reavers of my line to Sing my Songs when I finally lie down my sword and take my place among them in Valhalla. "
Yes, the time was now. The bell has tolled three, and now he will come.
***
A transmission broke the airwaves at exactly 10:13 p.m..
The picture is out of focus as it slowly fades up from black. A voice pierces the quiet.
When the bell tolls three, he will come. A prophecy made long ago by the ancient wise men. Their words have been a backdrop for many an event, such as World War 4 and World War 5. Now, their words hold true again, for the Veil of the Gods has finally been lifted.
The Flame Still Burns, so Sleep Now In The Fire as a New Dawn arises. On this day I say to you that the blood of the wicked will flow like a river, and the Supreme Warlord will spread his wings and be the vengeful striking hammer of the Gods.
The picture comes into focus, and it is the face of Damien Dreadfire.
The Flame Returns as the Destroyer cometh.
http://207.44.246.95/40/9/upload/p3403.jpg (http://home.eznet.net/%7Edeck/fe/Finger%20Eleven_Slow%20Chemical.mp3)
---Damien the Destroyer---
-Supreme Warlord of AMF-
Ruler of The Ancient Republic of Greek Forces, The Silent Protectorate of Old Frankland, The Holy Kingdom of The Royal Knights, The Mentally Superior Republic of Arrogant Uber Geniuses, The Raving Lunatics of Hackers Demise
The picture cuts immediately to black and silence.
OOC: Is this a temporary comback? Most likely. Something permanent? Not sure at this time. My schedule is really packed this year, but I had a free moment, so here it is, the thread that's been a month in the making.
Cheers.