NationStates Jolt Archive

Pulling his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his dirt encrusted face, the man looked over. The grey ceiling of the cavern hovered over him menacingly, the stalactites ready to bite through him at any given moment. Dotted with guano and eons-old pebbles, the ground oozed with a watery slime. Thomas's legs ached with pain, his knees felt like rusty hinges on a large door. Sitting down, he tucked his shirt back in and loocked at Chris sadly. "Are we close to them at all?"

The younger man looked over, his blue eyes tinged with red. "I...I don't know. I've lost contact with their signals." Sighing, he pulled out his rusty canteen and opened it, only to find his final salvation gone. "I'm out..." He sighed, his throat feeling like coarse sandpaper.

Thomas sighed a bit, and handed over his half-full canteen. "Have the rest - You need it more than I do..." Continuing to trek down the road, the ardous trail was worsening. It seemed as though there was a "bottomless" pit every 10 seconds, and the cavern was getting increasingly smaller. "Chris... We have a problem."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"Uh..." Up ahead, a large amber glow illuminated the room, casting a hazy glow on the limestone cave. "What - What is that thing?"

Chris shook his head, slowly backing up. The intensity of the glow increased, and Thomas soon realized what it was. A giant portal stood open, swirling quicker and quicker. The amber waves formed a whirpool of chromativ materials, which somehow bent the very fabric of time and physics. Thomas quickly ran over to Chris. "Don't move." Shaking, the cave began to open up, like a giant opening it's mouth. Jets of crimson flame shot out of the crevices running along side the two unfortunate explorers. Two eyes opened. And so did a mouth.

Outside, a man got out his car. His large, grey mustache jostled in the wind, and his yellow-safari suit ruffled. He yelled in his obnoxious accent. "What in the bloody hell is going on here?" He ran over to the cave entrance, only to see the ground open up in front of him. Steam shot forth, followed by large shots of fire ina brilliant array of colours. Eyes wide open, the man shot back to the car, as quickly as his arthritic legs could carry him. The ground began to shake, and a monotonous beating occured, and became louder. Like a pair of drums, it beat on the earth. Shoving his keys into the ignition, the old fellow started his car and punched the accelerator and flew forward. The hole in the ground increased, getting much larger. The flames began to subside, and two long bones stuck out of the ground.

"Thomas? Chris?" The old man shreaked, scared. The bones came out, growing larger. Then a head, with two eyes on each side. "What in the name of the faire lord?" The man fiddled with his seatbelt and hopped out. The creature pulled out two wimpy arms, that ended with long knife-like apendages. It's brownish-red skin contrasted with the dense foilage of the forest.

"Mister Winkling. We meet again." The voice bellowed, a deep sound that echoed throughout the forest. The ground shook with every syllable spoken. The eyes of the beast glinted, and he pulled himself out of the steaming ground. It's body was long, with three elephantine legs on each side, thick and stubby. It's torso was that of a horse, though with coarse, blotted skin. And it had a long, reptilian-like tail, with a large, pointed blade at the end. His head was that of a dragon, with two large demon horns at the top. He was easily 70-odd feet tall, and he smelled of sulfur. "So, sire, you have two options: Serve me or perish." He laughed a deep, coarse bellow, that echoed for a while. The air filled with silence.

"I-I refuse to do either." The man muttered it once more, as though he needed to make himself believe so.

"You idiotic human. I am but 3500 years old, a mere teenager, and even I know you are ready to run. You will serve me." The Creature threw his head back in disgust, and a serieis of henchmen arose from within the hole. Golems, with pods that held brains and spirits. Massive, oozing globs of anything an alchemist could dream of. Towering mountains of moving flesh, that consumed anything in sight. The man felt warm inside, and looked down and noticed his soiled pants.

"You... You..." He bowed his head down, his pompous, self-rightous accent all but gone. "I will serve you..."

The being smiled, showing his crooked, gleaming teeth. "I knew you would. Come along now, hurry. We have much work to do." Eyes glowing, a passion burning inside, the demon set off to begin his carnage.

The last of the beasts gone, Thomas pulled himself out of the small crawlspace. Aching throughout, Thomas looked over at Chris. Chris's body lay on the cave ground, his skin nothing but charred, black ashes. Yellow and pale, his bones lay beneath the dead skin, clinging to each other threw some forgotten bond. Thomas almost gagged, his face turning red. "How... How in the..." His voice trailed off, as hot and stining tears began to cascade down his face.. What monster needed to kill his best friend? Looking around, he realized that the cave was now a ruin - It's magnificent features, taking millions of years to form, were now nothing but a pille of useless pebble.

Crawling out of the cave, Thomas almost gasped. "G-grand father? Where are you?" His voice sounded small, as though he was a child once again. Frowning, his skin forming wrinkles above his head, he pulled out his phone. Flipping it open, he pressed the 'Talk' button and listened. Static. He looked at the screen, which no longer had a signal. "What the-?" He slunk down to his knees, and sadly looked at the ground. The green moss had been stamped into oblivion. Then he noticed a pattern. Large, ovalish indentations. Footprints.

Thomas struggled to get up, his back feeling as though elephants were standing upon it. He grimaced, and began to gain his balance. The deep indentations in the ground, mere footprints, were intimidating enough. Frowning, his face dirtied and scarred, he began to follow the footprints. "What in the name could have made these footprints?"

"I think you know..."

Thomas turned around, sweating. His eyes scanned the area thoroughly, looking for some sign of sentient life. His hands trembled. "Who - Who are you?"

A deep laugh rumbled from the forest, shaking the trees. Then it seemed to end, although deep vibrations protruded into Thomas's head like thin daggers.

"What do you want with me?"

There was nothing but silence, and then a large crash sounded from the foilage, and thomas backpedaled. "You know who I am..."

Thomas shook hard, and tripped on a thin, dying stick that rose out of the ground. Crashing back, a deep shudder went through Thomas body. His eyes shut quickly, and black filled his view. But not for long.


An image of red quickly filled Thomas's head, as the features of the demon began to flesh out. The bumpy skin. The large back legs that seemed like trunks of unimaginable trees. Arms that twisted into vile appendages of torture, whose only wish was harm. A feeling of geniune terror filled up within Thomas.

A tear.

One single tear.

Rolled down his face.

OOC: To join, go here: http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=375603

And in a far, distant land, the Imperial Horde's greatest scientists were making discoveries. Not very nice ones at all. Disturbances in the planet's electromagnetic feild over a very particular point caught intrest, and word spread like wildfire over the scientific community.

Fearing the possiblity that the massive disturbance was caused by nuclear testing, the government decided they would send their greatest spy. However, the scientists knew more than this; there was no possible way for the disturbance to be sustained by a bomb. It was as if something were bending the laws of physics for personal comfort. It was frightening, and impossible. Such bendings of reality were reserved for sci-fi books.

But the corrupt government would take no chances, if this was some sort of new super weapon, they would know about it. And so, Xaros, sharp shooter and and masters of three forms of martal arts, was dispatched by plane, (knowing with an electromagnetic pluse that large, the radar would probably be out in the meantime) never knowing excatly what horror awaited him in the distant nation of Lethislavania...

....

And the engines buzzed loudly outside of the highflying plane, and Xaros sat inside, reflecting over thoughts of God and Country. Ideas which since childhood he had been trained never to betray. It was brainwashed, engrained into him that his nation was the greatest in the world, that his leader was supreme, and that he was to obey. And armed to the teeth, and with plenty of supplies, he looked out the window as alien nations below passed like anthills. He watched curiously as the small world under him turned... And it was like he was falling into a trance, his trimed, but untamed hair came to the side of his face as he turned it to get diffrent angles. Yes he thought, This is peace... His eyes began to close...

"Opening the door in two minutes, get ready for your jump." Came though his headphones, drawing him out of his almost spiritual meditation there on the plane. He came out of it relaxed, calmed, and happy. He was sure he'd be able to return home in a day or two. Sure that whatever waited him wasn't a big deal at all. He was full of hope... So he stood, and walked over to the door, and spoke into his headset, "I'm ready for the jump." and before him, the door opened. The wind was unimaginable. If not for his training, he would have been ripped out of the plane. The violent winds lashed him as he watched though shaking eyes the nations pass below. No, this is not peace... This is... Something else.

And the same voice came though the headset, "Jump in five... Four... Three... Two... One..." And with the will of a madman, he threw himself out of the door, into the air thousands of feet above the surface of the planet. And he smiled as he fell towards Lethislavania, and moved a hand to his headset. The plane turned in the air and headed home. Soon, Xaros would loose contact... So instead of wasting valuable radio time with talking to those suits back in the Horde, he clicked on the international radio, and searched till he found an appropriate song for his fall.

And he was getting into it to. When the radio went dead.

He judged that that was his que to pull his parachute. And he seemed to rise, as it opened, and he fell slower toward the alien nation... And soon he found a clearing, far from civilization. And he landed in it, about fifty miles from the site where it was determined the disturbance originated...

Alone, in the middle of nowhere, with only the trees for company, he went to work. He dug a deep hole, covered it with camo print sheets, and made it his temorary abode to plan what he should do next, having no contact with the homeland.

OOC: Spelling errors? Typed this at four in the freaking morning, so please have mercy := (Cthulhu smily)

OOC: Bump, I'll have a post later.

Spinning, the flames began to grow closer. The edges of the once-forest burned with the amber haze of a fire run crazy, one that would soon envelop all of the known earth. Suddenly, a large, crazed demon burst forth, his lumbering weight shaking everything on the earth, a deep pounding that seemed to last for countless eons, a crush so terrible even the stars cried out in agony. His sick, vicious appearence would shock even the grotesque devil kin, the immortal fallen angels quaking. Walking, slower, he headed towards the man in the puny makeshift army tent, the weak invention of the miniscule man. His red sking fluctuated, as his eyes gleamed and mouth watered a sickening green bile, which dripped down his chin. "You are mine, young one. Only mine..."

OOC: These diologues between us must be short, as I do not know your character's reactions.

Thud. The cracking of trees, and the burning of wood.

Boom. Falling greenery, snapping saplings.

He looked out from under his tent...

His heart jumped impossibly, eyes nearly sucked from his head. Unbelieveable. He hid himself again, and looked through his arsenal... And quickly found a weapon that he thought he could use to deal with this. It was a single shot grenade launcher, nothing special, probably nothing that would even harm the damned thing. But it may be distracting enough for a quick get away. He judged the hight by the legs standing outside of the tent.

He aimed the launcer up, aiming to where he estimated the head to be, though he couldn't quite tell though the top of his tent... And he squeezed the trigger, sending the grenade flying though the top of his tent, straight toward toward the creature. And with this given launch, he took a combat knife, two hand guns, a small submachine gun, and lastly, strapped to his back, a straight blade sword. With these weapons, he ran. And unburdened by most of his provisions, which he supposed he could come back for by the end of the day, if he got away with his life, he was running fast, looking over his shoulder as adrinline pumped though his veins. He hoped giant demons weren't fast, or could cast some kind of ungodly magical fireballs or some such thing. That would be bad.

Spin. Spin. Spin. The grenade hurtled towards Daemonirix, then uncerimoniously exploded, leaving a blackened crater of flesh, skin, and bone. A mere flesh wound. Laughing horsely, the Demon concentrated on the man. The ground rumbled, spurting forward flames, which spun faster and faster into large columns, which danced around Xaros. Effectively, it was a prison of fire, a killer jail of flame.

"You are trapped... I command your life, Xaros. What is your choice?" He asked, laughing hoarsely, creating an immense and unnatural shake. The world was watching, it's eyes intent of the ungodly beast wreaking havoc on the natural beauty that is Lethislavanian.

"Xaros, God and Government can't save you. Make up your mind."

Running, and running. Afraid of the impending doom behind him. The fire was catching up to him, surrounding him. He had to stop, before he tossed himself into the hellish fury. So he turned back to the demon behind him, his eyes widened. What was he to do? The least he could do was delay the beast, trick it. So with a steady voice, he fell prostrate before the creature

"... Yes..."

---------------

Ages ago, when the world was still in it's youth, in it's classical era, the Imperial Horde was founded by a creature. To describe it accurately, it was thirteen feet of pure, unadulterated terror created from bones of black vulcan glass. A horned walking skeleton. Xarious, a Lich, whose frightful face to this date still adorns the national flag of the Imperial Horde. He was immortal, but he was gone from the physical world.

But something had opened a way back into it. He was free from damnation...

---------------

As Xaros fell before the great demon, from it's own portal, which was shrinking, but not gone, the impossibly tall armored black skeleton emerged from the darkness, and at his side, a shorter creature, something ugly and impish. It was handling a string puppet... Made of a shrunken corpse.

Xarious said, "It would appear that someone beat us to the first punch, my lad."

And Sarin said, "It would seem so, master."

And as he dragged his massive tallons across the land, his scorpion like tail swishing across the dirt, Xarious cast his skeletal claw outward, "But never fear, my lad. Once the escapee becomes tired with fighting the legions of men, we can return to take power in the Empire..."

[I'm typing rather fast. And not checking my spelling. Oh well.]

Daemonirix laughed. Deeply. Rumbiling, the ground rose around them, creating a pit. A massive arena, created from the very earth that had berth the poor human who was the casing for a equally disturbing creature. Daemonirix stumbled forward, slashing his tail viciously.

"Who are you to challenge me? Do you not realize that I could destroy this planet in seconds? That my heart burns with the power of a thousand supernovas? I'll give you one chance to leave, or you will face a certain death." He spat, a large bubbling circle hitting the floor.

[Ahem, I suggest you reread my post. Xaros is not Xarious, just a direct line decendent, so to speak. And Xarious is at the mouth of the caves. Xaros is announcing that he will serve the demon.]

[OOC: Bump, fill with post when inspiration strikes.]

Lord Edmund ap Fiona opened his eyes slowly. It was still dark out and he was not even remotely rested. Still, the stirring next to him forced him to conciousness. Turning, he saw the still sleeping form of his wife, Lady Halafriel ni Beaumayn, tossing in the bed, her flesh covered in a sheen of cold sweat. "Hal! Wake up, love!"

Halafriel's eyes fluttered open. "I...Ed...We...I saw something."

Edmund sat up in bed, frowning deeply. "I take it it's not a good vision this time."

Halafriel shook her head. "They aren't often good."

Edmund nodded his head. "I know, dearest. I know. Do we need to notify someone?"

The woman nodded a little. "Probably the Order of Steel."

"That bad?"

"That bad." She said. "A three headed horse with a serpent's tail and...power, incredible power."