NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: Ever wonder where and why Automagfreek has become such a commenly said name on NationStates? Well, from day 1 Automagfreek has made an impact, no doubt about that. Through 2 World Wars and the forging of the WMNK Coalition, AMF became a household name early on. But the real turning point was mid September in 2003, when I introduced a new character named Damien.

At the time Thomas Kaye was president of The Democratic States of Automagfreek (a democracy, who would have thought?), and Xelan Nengalu was the Prime Minister. Through the introduction of a new weapon, the Sentinels, AMF secured itself in the history books and made it's fair share of enemies.

Here is a key to certian sections of this story:

*** = This indiates a chapter break. Scenes and whatnot change inbetween these marks.

Orange text = Commentary that I just now added in for background information.

Red text = This indicates a post by Pantera, which I will not take credit for. Pantera has played a vital role in how Automagfreek is today.

Enjoy, there is ALOT more to come. This is just the tip of the iceberg, for I plan on going all the way up to the present day.

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

As my first act as Prime Minister, I am herby announcing the decommission of all current AMF military personnel. Now bear with me, there is a reason. Cyberdyne Systems, AMF's top weapons manufacturing corporation, has been doing genetic experimentation over the past decade. They have systematically "redesigned" the human DNA strand. Genetic impurities have been removed, stamina has been increased as well as muscle capacity. The basic human killer instincts are amplified. Basically, AMF will comence mass breeding of these "pure soldiers" to revamp our military. Now, I say "pure" because what Cyberdyne has done is breed us a human soldier in it's purest form, no frills, no uber enhancement, just a plain and simple killing machine, what human beings once were. They are raised from day 1 to do exactly what they are told. They do not know pain, fear is unheard of, and remorse is not in their vocabulary. They are bred to fight, and fight well. Their diets are literally perfect, providing 100% of every vitamin and mineral the human body needs, while having no fat, no saturated fat, and no cholesterol. They train 18 hours a day, honing and enhancing their combat skills. Slowly over the coming years, these "pure soldiers" will replace the regular humans in our military.

We must stress that what we are doing is not inhuman, we are not torturing these people, nor are we being cruel. We are simply training an army that is better "equipped" to handle itself in combat.

More information will be released once it becomes available.



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Xelån Nengalu
-Prime Minister of AMF-

***

This was the fundamental turning point in Automagfreek's history. At this time the one known as Damien began lurking in the shadows, preparing to make his move in the coming years. Nobody knew that one day the Sentinels would be one of the most feared and powerful fighting forces he world had ever seen.

***

13 years had passed since the experiment went under way. The copies were now 13, and their whole life had been spent training. At 6 in the morning, the Drill Sgt. walked into the barracks. The copies were now finished with the first part of their training, and they were ready to move to step 2, actual combat training. After rudely awakening the troops, they stand at attention, the same emotionless expression upon each face. Good morning ladies. Today marks a great change in your service of your Empire. Today, you will begin 5 years of intensive combat training. For 16 hours a day, your bodies will be taken to their absolute limits. You will march 20 miles a day, followed by 3.7 miles of obstacle courses, followed by whatever other activities are planned, be it marksmanship training, swimming, hand to hand combat, whatever. Today you evolve. Now, you are nothing but unorganized, grab-asstic pieces of amphibian shit. You are the lowest form of life, you are not even human fucking beings. You are a genetically pure copy, nothing more. Whom do you serve maggots? THE EMPIRE, SIR!! Bullshit, I can't hear you! THE EMPIRE, SIR!!! That's better. The time is 0600, get your asses dressed ladies, it's time for work.

The military experiment involving genetically pure copies is proving to be a success. From their "birth", the copies are molded into brutal killing machines. They grow up watching war footage, and seeing live animals fight to the death. They are fed blood, death, and war. When they reach age 6, they are drilling in the art of military strategy. They begin physical conditioning and light to medium weapons training. Loyally, robotically, they serve their Empire with every waking moment.

In 5 years, the first "batch" will be ready for combat service. Slowly, these new soldiers will replace the current soldiers, increasing AMF's military might significantly.

I am still not sure about the effectivness of these manufactured soldiers, Colonel Brinks said, I don't know if they will really make a difference. He paused for a brief second, deep in thought. You have yet to see the true ferocity that these men possess, the program dircetor said, bearing a patch of AMF's Cyberdyne Systems. These men are invincible, or at least we make them think so.

They step out onto a balcony, overlooking thousands of the copies.

ATTENTION! The director shouts. The men instantly snap to attention. What is your purpose? TO SERVE THE EMPIRE! What do you live for? BLOOD, DEATH, AND WAR!! That's right. you do not know pain, you do not know fear. Remorse is not in your vocabulary, nor is insubordinance. Your sole duty is to your Empire!

As you see Colonel, they are more disciplined than any naturally born man. Here is an example. YOU, STEP FORWARD! He points to a random soldier. Now, watch this. The director throws a grenade at the feet of the soldiers, still standing at attention. Dive on that grenade soldier! The soldier robotically complies, diving on the grenade while the others stand without moving. The grenade explodes, throwing blood and flesh over the room. Now you see colonel, would any man stand there while a grenade was thrown at his feet? Would any man go to his death simply because he was told to? No, and that's where these soldiers prevail.

The Colonel looked on with mixed feelings.

***


The Senate was in discussion. The decision to have the Sentinels replace all regular humans was still being fiercely debated.

I know you're concerned about the application of artificially engineered soldiers in the AMF military. I can assure you, we have nothing to fear! They are extremely discipined, and they will fight for AMF harder than regular men. I see this as a great opportunity to further AMF's military power.


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Minister Hartman
-Minister of Foreign Affairs-

I understand, but the idea still makes me uneasy. I'm not sure this will work, because this has never been successfully done by any other nation before, we are really the first ones to go this fra. We've trained them since birth, we've strengthened them genetically, and face it, they're killers, plain and simple. I'm still not sure about this all...

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Xelån Nengalu
-Prime Minister of AMF-


The appliaction of such soldiers would be very beneficial to AMF's defense. With such soldiers on the battlefield, the enemy will be facing some of the toughest men the universe has ever known. I see great things coming from these Sentinels


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Chairman Samuel Jackson
-Department of Defense-


As the debate rages on, noise begins to build in the streets. Still locked in debate, the Senate moves forward.

The Senate grows uneasy as the noise in the streets escalates. But, determined to address the issue once and for all, the Senate trudges on. Meanwhile, citizens quickly return to their homes. A shadow slowly spreads through the city, and darkness begins to fall. Hmmm...this is unusual.... A Senator utters. The Senate discussion slowly fades into silence, as the sound of simultanious footsteps is heard. Is that thunder? What is that? another voice called out. I have no idea...but it's getting louder. Another replies. Growing concerned, the Prime Minister and other high political officials look around the room, wondering if they should leave or not.

The sound grows louder.

The footsteps then get closer, their thundeous noise almost deafening now. Then..mysteriously, they stop. Silence fills the Senate for several minutes. The Senate members, openly afraid now, look around cluelessly trying to make sense of the events that are unfolding. Then breaking the silence, a single set of feet ascends the Senate steps, approaching the main door. The sound grows louder, making their way towards the Senate's doors. A pause....then the doors open with a loud thud, and a gust of wind blows in chilling the Senate members to the bone. Standing in the darkened doorway is a tall, very physically fit man. The entire aura aound this man is that of pure evil and fear, and a shudder goes down the spine of the Prime Minister.

He pauses, looking around the Senate, sizing things up. Then, striding towards the podium, he slowly makes his way forward. The dignitaries at the podium quickly scurry as the man ascends the few steps, and stands before the podium. He glares across the room...left to right. Ripping the microphone out of the stand, he brings it up to his mouth.

In a deep, ominous voice he speaks. Now you will recieve us. Today, marks a new day in the chapter of Automagfreek. A Revolution has been brewing for some 15 years, and you know of what I speak. I was the first Sentinel created, some 21 years ago. I was your first "test dummy". You modeled your new military after me, and now with the first wave of troops ready, we are here to announce the hidden agenda that brewed under your very noses. Your own officials have been planning this coup for some time, and the day of glory is here. I, Damien, am here to announce my rise to power. Glancing at the Prime Minister, he shouts, REMOVE HER! Take her to my... He began eying her up and down private chambers.

Several Sentinels, clad in full combat amor, armed with the latest in military weaponsry, forcibly take the Prime minister from the Senate building. Damien turns, facing the main body of the Senate. This is what you wanted! Why must you be afraid? For if you did not want this, why do I exist? You must now embrace the new destiny that lay before AMF, because if you don't, it will consume you and leave you buried in the tracks of progress. More Sentinels are spawned everyday, and soon there will be Sentinels patrolling every city on the planet of Automagnus. I am here to order that all local police are to not interfere with the Sentinels. I m also here to say that President Kaye has been taken into custody. I'm not saying he will be harmed, absolutly not. A man of such genious is neccessary to the survival of AMF. He will still be the "President" so to speak, but I will have the supreme authority. The new dawn is here ladies and gentlemen, time to embrace it.

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---Damien---
-Supreme Warlord of AMF-

Damien turns to a news crew covering the Senate meeting.

I want you to send out a message to the peoples of the world, and broadcast it everywhere.

Getting ready, Damien moves outside, where several thousand Sentinels stand in perfect formation. Damien speaks:

Today, a new dawn has arisen in Automagfreek. I, Damien now hold supreme power in Automagfreek, and will push AMF father than it's ever gone before. Alongside my Sentinel brothers, our Empire will eclipse the Empire of old, and we will forge a new path. A new age is here, and with hellfire and brimstone, we will carve out our place in history. But fear not, we will not mindlessly unleash our wrath on the first person who stands in our way, oh no. We will bide our time, until the day our wrath must be brought upon some unfortunate nation, and that day will hopfully not come for a long time. The Sentinels are here, and we are not going anywhere.

***

Little did Automagfreek know about just how effective the Sentinels would be. An immediate impression was made on the world, and in the process of earning much fear and respect, AMF did indeed earn alot of enemies. Automagfreek then caught the eye of a very powerful nation, Pantera. Perhaps one of the most powerful, the Lord Reaver Bastien the Bronze saw great potential in Damien and his Sentinels. And thus began the legendary "Blood Pact".

***


Damien stood in the darkened chambers of the Great Hall. A slight breeze shuffled the red and white curtains, and the leaves on the trees russled in the dusky air. The candles around the alter had been lit, and a thousand hooded Sentinels stood silently as the ceremony began. Standing next to Damien was Xel, clad in a slightly revealing ceremonial black dress, her long black hair swaying slightly as the night air blew in. Damien stepped forward towards the alter, where a golden chalice sat alongside a 4 inch knife, it's handle clad in gold as well.

Brother Sentinels, I am here tonight to engage in the Blood Pact with Pantera. This chalice will be filled with my blood, sealed, then sent to Pantera as an offering, and as a pledge to their nation. This pledge will bind us together, making Sentinel and Reaver alike brothers in arms. Wether Pantera participates in the Pact is a decision that they alone will make, but I shall take the first step.

Damien lifted the chalice, and turned his back towards the cloaked Sentinels. He closed his eyes, lifting the cup up high, silently praying to the Gods above. His lips moved ever so slightly as he prayed on, his mind clear and collected. The breeze picked up for a second causing the candles to flicker and cast eerie shadows about the room. Damien turned, and placed the chalice gently on the stone alter. Picking up the knife, he held it in both hands, his eyes focused on the razor sharp blade. He slowly opened his dominent right hand, and with his weaker left sliced a 3 inch gash from end to end. He then moved his right hand over the chalice, squeezing hard. Blood poured from his wound as Xel and the Sentinels watched on silently. When the chalice was half full, Damien set the knife down and with both hands raised the cup to his lips, drinking his own blood. He tilted his head back and sprayed his own lifeblood into the air. A thousand Sentinels roared, shaking the windows and the very foundation of the Great Hall as blood dripped from Damien's gaping maw. Placing the chalice on the alter he squeezed his hand again, filing it full.

Xel drifted gently toward it, sealing the top. She held it high, and the Sentinels produced a roar that would make demons weep.

The Blood Pact has been initiated! This golden cup will now be taken to Pantera, as an offering of our allegiance.

Ripping the front of his shirt, Damien took his bloodied hand, and smeared his hand print across his chest, and the Sentinels roared again.


Caught up in the turmoil of War and asasination attempts, the Lord Reaver could not help but smile as he recieved the message from Freek. This Damien is going to prove a ferocious ally...

He grinned, taking up pen and paper and writing a reply to AMF before having it sent quickly.

Honored Allies, though a strange custom indeed, we are pleased with your offer, and the trust it entails. Long have we respected and Honored your people, and now I trust this shall ensure our mighty alliance through the ages. Together, Reavers and Sentinals shall break our enemies and sweep across them, conquering and taking what we will.

The offer of your lifes blood will please the Blood God of War, Wotan, and I shall contribute to the offering with my own. The Crow's Feast shall be great, and the gods shall drink their fill from the crimson streams flowing from the mountians of our enemies, defeated and dishonored.

Bound together by the ties of Blood and Fire, we are now as one.

Bastien the Bronze
Lord Reaver of Pantera
Drag the Waters of War


Upon recieving the reply, the message from Bastien was read aloud, and broadcast over every AMF installation. At Camp Blade, the main training center of the Sentinels, the message had a profound impact. Roaring and screaming with the might of the Sentinels, over 500,000 heard the message. All across AMF, mass celebration took place. Much feasting and drinking took place, along with parties right in the streets.

At the Great Hall, Damien read the message to the hooded Sentinels. After much celebration, the message was instnatly framed, and hung inside the Main Chamber, a hallowed place where many AMF artifacts rest. Xel stood alongside the 7 foot tall Damien. She looked with a smile at Damien.

What you have done here today is quite possibly the greatest historical event in the history of Automagfreek. Damien, you have taken the Empire to a whole new level, and you should be very proud.

Grinning down at Xel with delight, he said to her:

I know Xel. Now, the fury and might of the Reavers are now one with the Sentinels. This is a big step in our nation's history, and this day shall echo in all eternity. Now, my love, we must go celebrate.

Damien scooped Xel into his arms, and took her to his private quarters, where they would "celebrate" the night away.

***

In the Garden Square in RTP City, a large statue was to be erected to commemorate this occasion. The monument would stand 50 feet tall, and on the left side will stand a statue of a Sentinel, made out of stainless steel. On the right will stand a statue of a Reaver, made out of bronze. One hand of each statue will be extended forward, and each will hold the flag of their nation proudly.

The monument was expected to be erected in a few days.

Mass celebration continue around the country, and at AMF installations afar.

Back at the Great Hall

After a night of great pleasure, Damien and his mate Xel awoke from their slumber. Damien walked to the balcony as the curtains swayed in the breeze. He looked out across Garden Square, and across the Silver Lake. The sun was rising, and the new day was here. Xel arose from her bed, still unclothed, and moved towards the bathroom. She put her nightgown on, and moved over towards Damien. She stood behind him, wrapping her arms around around Damien's midsection, and resting her head gently on his back.

Today marks a great change in the Empire my love. I never thought such a day would come, much less under my rule.

Damien said quietly to Xel. She moved and stood next to Damien, holding his hand gently. She smiled as she looked Damien in his fiery eyes.

I always believed you would achieve such greatness, for you will go down in history as the man that changed the course of an entire Empire. You are a fabulous leader Damien, never forget that.

Damien smiled, and the two watched the sun rise together, for a new dawn had come.



The Church of the ThirdEye is a towering structure. Built of granite and set high upon a gigantic quartz crag, the huge black-on-whie upthrust dominates the landscape for miles around. From the highest tower of the church flies a billowing banner, bearing the burgundy and blacks of Pantera. The great flight of stairs leading to the gilded set of double doors is packed with Reavers as they make thier way into the great church. Inside, a cavernous chamber is already crammed with the Warrior Priests of ThirdEye and Reavers alike.

The walls are carved with fantastic scenes of battle and glory, the three faces of the Gods of Wind, Water and War the most prevalent. The far end of the room is rased into a great platform where blooms of SunShade grow about the altar where it is said that human sacrifice to the Blood Gods indeed once took place. Upon the furthest wall a section of granite has been removed, revealing a large hole.

As the last of the Reavers file in, and the cavernous chamber quiets, the Lord Reaver emerges from the crowd alongside a Crimson Priest. Bastien the Bronze is clad in antique shining silver platemail, his shining blonde hair swinging loose about his shoulders as he and the Priest approach the altar.

My Reavers, Brother's of the Church, we come today to pay respect to an ally who has honored us. The Lord Of Automagfreek has offered a gift of his lifes blood, offering the very sould and rage that flows within him, to Pantera. A strong gesture and one that sall not be forgotten.

Taking up an ornate iron dagger, it's hilt capped with a strange blue stone, Bastien nods to the Crimson Priest and draws the edge across is calloused palm, smiling grimly as a thick line of blood wells up from the gash and runs across his fingers. The Priest hurriedly pulls a satin cloth from the golden chalice gifted them by AMF. Opening it, he offers it to the Lord Reaver.

Bastien clenches his fist, thrusting his arm above the chalice and allowing the blood that streams down his hand to drip into the it. His voice echoes powerfully about the crowded chamber:

Once seperate, we have been forged anew. The bonds of Blood and Fire are unbreakable, and our fates are now entwined. To Valhalla, alongside our brothers we shall Drag the Waters of War!

The savage roars of the assembled Reaver echo about the chamber as they stomp and clap thier hands, screaming and shouting adoration at thier Warrior-King, and for thier allies.

The Crimson Priest bows low, murmering a prayer and placing the now closed chalice within the hole in the thick granite wall. He turns then, taking up a ceremonial broadsword and calling out.

I will now stand guard against the Lifes-Blood of our alliance, now and forever. That is my vow, before Gods and Men. Go now, Drag the Waters alongside those who have honored you. I shall wait here, eternal as the Waves, a shield to the Soul of our great Alliance.

Bastien bows low to the Priest, but recieves no reply as he now has eyes only to seal away the Chalice, and himself. An eternal Honor guard, as it were.


It is done, my love. Pantera and Automagfreek are now as one. This is a moment that our people will not soon forget Damien.

Damien turned to Xel. He was both happy, but silent at the same time. He could not believe that under his rule that such an event was possible.

To think Xel, that at one point, Pantera and Automagfreek were once strangers. But now, we are as brothers. We have sworn allegiance, Reaver and Sentinel alike. Not just AMF and Pantera will remember this day, but all life throughout the vastness of the cosmos. This is the first time the Blood Pact has been shared with those outside of AMF. It was first done amongst the feudal lords that warred against one another in the Early Ages. But now, we share it with our Reaver kin! This is a monumental occasion!

He shouted to the servant outside the room.

Send a message to those in the National Archives to mark this day as an official holliday. The Day of Blood shall it be called! Xel grinned at Damien. Although part machine, her human emotions shined. I just love to hear you talk Damien. Tell me more. Damien looked puzzled. About what, my love? Xel sat down on the large bed. About anything. She gestured Damien closer, an erotic grin on her face.


Early the morning afer enshrining the Chalice, Bastien the Bonze and his brother Dayne the Evenstar woke to practice the blade. They had done so since they were old enough to walk, and, short of war, had never broken the routine. The sound of the training room rang with the sound of steel clashing upon steel. Bastien's great broadsword powered against his brothers smaller longsword, though the Evenstar held his own.

Finally, though Dayne slipped low and cut at hs brothers calf with his blunted longsword, knocking him from his feet and ending the spar.

Bastien drew a ragged breath and pushed himself to his feet, grunting to his brother,A fine match, Dayne. Was once a day you couldna trounce me like that.

Dayne's smile was troubled as he waved away his brothers compliment and turned to replace his blunted longsword on the training rack. His Lord and brother did not neglect to notice his brothers unease.

Your thoughts, Evenstar?

The younger brother turned to face his King, nodding his massive head, his braids swinging,The wars weigh on my mind. Enemies approach Pantera, and you talk with this Damien. You know that the smallfolk have given him a soulname?

Bastien gave a slight shake of his head, arching a thick eyebrow and lifting a hand to scratch his jawline, covered in a slight shadow of beard. A soulname, eh? A Panteran SoulName was reserved for Reavers who had earned their respect before Gods and Men alike. It tied you to the Wind and Waves, and ensured that Wotan strode with you during War. It took a Crimson Priest to give a soulname, and he hadn't been told of such...No, Evenstar, tell me.

Damien Dreadfire. The Evenstars smile was sly as he watched his brother.

The Lord Reaver smiled, his thoughts flying,Well said brother. The commoners have an eye, along with the Priests, eh? His name will be well earned, Evenstar. There is Fire and Ice in his veins... He trailed off, watching his sibling.

Dayne's purple eyes dropped as he asked softly,What are your plans, Bastien?

The Warrior-King sighed, looking to a beautifully detailed painting of the Panteran longships of old. A return to greatness, my brother...


Xel rushed into the throne room. Damien knew this was urgent, because she never ran. Damein instantly stood to his feet. What is it, my love? Xel stopped at Damien's throne, she looked him in his feiry eyes, and grinned.

I have just recieved word from Pantera, Damien. It seems you have been honored with what Panterans call a soulname. It is a custom bestowed upon those most worthy, and YOU , Damien, have been honored with such a name!

Damien slumped down in his throne, a smile and disbelief on his face. His eyes distant, as if his mind was in another time, a grin quickly spread across his face, then drifted away. His grin returned, and Xel knew that his mind was working at a million miles an hour, his imagination running rampant.

I have been honored with such a name... Damien said, with a smile clearly across his face, which was unusual. I....can't believe it. What do they call me, my love?

Xel bowed down repectfully as she uttered the name.

Damien Dreadfire, my Lord.

Damien's smile grew bigger, and stood from his throne as the Sentinel guards bowed as well. Damien Dreadfire....I like it. So it has been proclaimed, and so shall it be.


Bastien stood facing the great window of the Seastone Council chambers, his massive form outlined against the violent swirl of reds, oranges and blues of the dying sun. The vista beyond was incredible, some three thousand feet above the waves, with sunlight proving the Blood Bay was well-named, as the setting sun turned the color of the waves to crimson.

As he turned to face the assembled Reaver Lords, his purple eyes blazed, the indigo flare startling in its contrast to the riot of colors beyond the window.

I earned my soulname when the blood from my enemies drenched my locks, turning them to bronze in sun on an evening much like this. The garrison was out of ammunition, though they refused to surrender. My Lord Father, respecting the resolve of these rebel Reavers ordered that the town be stormed with sword and bayonet, as he refused to shoot them down. I was entrusted to the task, and after six bloody hours of fighting the day was mine. With my enemies slain, bathed in their blood, the Priests bestowed me with my soulname...

The assembled Reaver Lords glanced at each other uneasily. They all knew the story, and it was not like thier Lord to ramble. A few made as if to speak, but Bastien waved them to silence.

Dreadfire chose well, to make the Panteran statue Bronze, alongside thier own of steel. Not only for my Soulname, but for the metal itself. Bronze is the metal of my crown, to tie me to the Land. The Crown of hte old Kings of Winter. Bronze and Iron, Fire and Ice... All about these Sentinels seems to be...

He shook his head, ending his thought and gazing across the table at his Lords.

We have lost our dreams, my Lords. We no longer Drag the Waters, questing and conquering those who would defy us. That is our destiny, Reavers. To reign above lesser men, and to destroy any who would seek to interfere. Not conquerors, or rulers, mind you...

Once more he paused, tossing his head and makng to speak, only to be interrupted by his old advisor, and Defender Lord of the Vale.

Bastien, it is plain for us all to see that something troubles you. With enemies threatening, you cannot be like this. Focus, M'lord. Speak with us. Tell us of your thoughts. We are here to serve, M'lord, let us.

The Lord Reaver watched his old friend for a moment, thinking about the man. A friend to his father, he had stood alongside House Vayne during the many civil wars and rebellions of the past decades. Now approaching sixty, he remained a powerful presence. Bastien finally smiled, nodding his assent.

Beginning slowly, his words gained intensity:

We are warriors. This new way of warfare will not suit our old tactics. We must evolve, and to do this we must cast away old habits. Our destiny, my brothers is to Drag the Waters, blessed by the Wind and strengthened by War. The sentinels have awakened in me a terrible purpose. I see in them what I see in us. Fire and Ice, as I have said. They have roused the demons in my soul, and they haunt my dreams. Such sweet haunting though...A dream only glimpsed will be realized within this lifetime, Reavers, but that lifetime will be a moment in comparison to the Songs men shall sing of us through the ages. Reaver and Sentinel together, civilization shall enter a new age behind us. On our shoulders, Mankind shall prosper, and all shall be ours for the taking, Reavers. We only have to take it. And we shall. This is written across the skies in Starlight and Silver....

Long into the night the Reavers spoke, and as they left, Bastien noted the fervor in some of thier eyes. A previously hidden rage that welled deep within thier souls, boiling and building. Fanaticism could be dangerous, though. He knew well, for he teetered on the edge himself.


Damien sat looking out the window of his transport. He began having revalations of the trials to come. Sitting back, he thought of the ancient history behind AMF, and the glory that once radiated from it's borders. Thinking harder, he realized that the glory had all but faded, until his coming. Yes, it was him, was it not? Nobody else has taken AMF to these heights before! Not Dictator Automagfreek, not Thomas Kaye, but HIM alone! These thoughts raced throught his head as his transport landed at Camp Blade.

Stepping out of the transport, the 7 foot warlord towered over the Sentinel guards, and all came to attention.

It is an honor to receive you, My Lord. Welcome to Camp Blade.

The Major spoke loudly. Damien nodded in reply, and the two began walking towards the main compound. A Sentinel guards followed Damien as they made their way into the main building. As Damien's foot touched the inside of the room, all instantly became slient, and stood at attention. In perfect formation, the Sentinels stared ahead, motionless...robotic. Damien placed his arms behind his back, and slowly walked down the lines, eying each Sentinel as he passed. Each face was the same, each expression a copy of the last. These were to be the warriors that would propell the Empire forward, and although he knew many would be sacrificed along the way, he knew that it was a cause most worthy.

Damien passed through the lines, and made his way towards the balcony overlooking the troops. Taking up the microphone, he spoke in a thundering voice:

Brother Sentinels, the New Dawn is here! With both fire and blade alike, we will carve out our destiny as we see fit. We will no longer be bound to the ways of old, we will not do what others want! We will do....what WE want! Together, the brothers of the Blood Pact will trounch all heathens that stand against us. We shall watch as they lie, broken and stripped of all their pride. We shall laugh as they suffer torment and eternal damnation at our hands. We will watch with glee as their souls are purged from their cowardly bodies, and as they fester and rot in the Halls of the Dead. We will march over their pathetic forces, and we will send them to whatever God they wish. It is you, my Sentinels, that will do this, I have forseen it. With great discipline and untamed fury, you will sweep across the oppressors of the universe, one by one falling to our unstoppable war engine. Alongside our Reaver brothers, none shall think to cross paths with us!

My Sentinels, you make your Empire proud!

The Sentinels roared and cheered in approval. Damien had said it well.

***

Damien stood in the main control room of the Camp. Looking out amongst the vast sea of Sentinels, he felt a surge of pride. He turned to his staff of Generals.

I think you all know of the trials that are to come. I expect the best out of all of you, and so does your Empire. I cannot say at this moment exactly what is going to happen, because I myself am not sure. It is no secret that war will find us again, so we must be ready. I've been informed of certain "activities" around the planet, and it saddens and displeases me. I would not be surprised if we deployed soon.

We are currently fighting Tilsitsin, but AMF and Pantera shall make an example of that fool, so his presense does not concern me. What does concern me, however, is the insane conquest that is taking place on Earth.

He caught himself drifting. He straightened himself out, and his Generals saluted him.

Damien walked slowly by himself to Dawn's Cathedral. The grassy path was shaded by tall maple trees, and a slight breeze made the leaves shiver. He came closer to the Cathedral, and as he started up the giant flight of steps, passer by's moved out of his way.

The tall doors creaked as they opened, and the smell of candles and incense hit him. He paused, lifting his head and closing his eyes, taking in the soothing odors. Dawn's Cathedral was also a resting place for some of AMF's most important artifacts, one being the Relic's Sword, used by Dictator Automagfreek in the Age of Unrest. He turned left, and walked down the long red carpet and saw the sword encased in glass, sitting on it's podium, bathed in sunlight. He kneeled before it, and looked up at the epic depiction of the great Tide's War, a struggle between the feudal lords to gain power in the land of Automagfreek. The scene depicts the Dictator riding gloriously into battle, his sword literally passing through those that stood in his way.

He bowed his head and prayed to the Gods: Oh great wise ones of the past, grant me now in this time of trial, the strength to rise above my challenges. When I raise my flashing sword, and my hand takes hold in judgment, I will take vengeance upon mine enemies, and I will repay those that haze me. Oh Lords, raise me to thy right hand and count me among thy Saints.....

He lifted his head, feeling nirvana. He stood up, taking a few steps towards the sword. He lifted the glass case off, and the stench of ages filled his nostrils. He took up the mighty blade, and slowly removed it from it's scabbard. The blade was still sharp, after hundred of years. He would wear it with pride into battle, and it's spititual and sacred energies would help guide him in his darkest hours.

May my ancestors watch over me...

Damien placed the sword back into it's scabbard, and made his way to the exit, but not the same way he came. He took the scenic route, and went throught the art gallery. Large paintings of epic battlescenes covered the walls, each telling it's own story in it's own time and place. Damien passed them by, giving but a galnce to most of the artwork.

He then stopped at the painting of Tordun, the Corpse God, the God of Death. In the painting, Tordun was dragging a helpless woamn to her doom, as the panicked onlookers watched, their screams etched in time inside the very paint of the artwork. Damien bowed respectfully to the Corpse God, and continued his journey towards the exit.

Making his way out, he passed by the main alter in the Cathedral. Looking up at the stained glass window, he felt a sense of...enlightenment. Kneeling down before it, he gave his thanks to the Gods for seeng him through such turbulant times.

He stood, looking at the Relic's Sword, now attached to his utility belt. He exited the Cathedral without looking back, for he got what he came for. The sun was beginning to set, and the colors of orange, blue, and crimson tainted the sky as the sun died for the day. Damien walked down the long grassy trail in silence.

***

Days after these monumental events, construction finished on AMF's most infamous structure.....the cursed Halls of the Dead. The Halls had an immediate impact....that of disgust and pure fear.

***

The dank halls were barely lit by flickering candles. The sound of water dripping was interrupted only by the ear piercing screams of the condemned.

A large executioner, hooded in black, made his way down the dank halls. Thousands of decaying skeletal corpses line the walls, they were hung from the ceilings, impaled by stakes, laying strewn about the floor. Each empty skull still stunk with the rancid smell of decay. He then entered the main hall, which was lined with poorly lit cells. Inside, the damned awaited their punishment. The screames of agony echoed down the corridors, making thier way into the ears of the condemned, feuling their fear.

The executioner made his way to cell #4520, and the guards opened it. Bound in barbed wire and barely clothed, they took the poor soul up the flight of stairs, and then turned left. The long corridor was infested with rats, feasting on the decaying flesh of the dead. Maggots spilled from their severed heads, and the man walked past, his fear growing.

The main room was well lit, and any intruments of death and torture lined the several hundred yards of the room. First stop was the whipping post, where he would his body would be whipped and beaten until he could stand no more. He was strung up, shaking as the barbs drove deeper into his flesh. His eyes were agape as the ninetails sliced through his back. Screaming and groaning in sheer agony, they whipped him until the skin on his back was non existant.

Moving down the line, they laid him down belly up on a steel table. His arms and legs were bound by leather and iron as the hooded executioner rolled his tray over. His tray contained several large, sharp objects, and the victim started to sob. Picking up a long poker, the executioner moved to wards the man's lower half, and thrust the poker into the soles of the man's feet.

Screams filled the room, and the poker made it's way to his other foot. Once that was done, a pair of needle nosed pliars came next. One by one, slowly, each toe nail was painfully pulled. After which, his fingernails were next. The man's sobs and screams were so intense that he could barely do so any longer.

Next came the clamps. Starting with the big toe on his right foot, each toe had extreme pressure applied to it, and eventually, the toe broke. The sick snap could be heard throughout the room, and the executioner moved on to the next ones. After 15 minutes of breaking both toe and finger, the victim was moved to the next phase. He again was bound to a table, and was promtly castrated and forced to eat his manhood. His eyelids were cut off, making blinking impossible, for every time he tried, blood filled his eyes.

By now, the man could take the pain no further, and the executioner knew that. They placed him on a convyer belt, and slowly rolled him towards a large steel roller. Going feet first, his bones were crushed and ground into little pieces, and the man's screams picked up again. After his legs were crushed, the roller began squashing his midsection. The man's insides began coming out of his mouth as his stomach area and diaphragm were squeezed and pressed. Finally, as if a gift from the Gods, the man died.

His corpse was strewn aside, and another addition was added to the Halls of the Dead. Elsewhere in the room, others met the same fate. Some where being burned alive, suffocated, electrocuted, mutilated, stoned, gutted, beheaded, skinned, and then some.

Damien looked on from his viewing box, a sick twisted grin across his face.

I've seen enough, I have other business to attend to.

The 7 foot warlord exited the Halls of the Dead, and made his way back to the sunlight. Damien thought, if this is the horrors thatlie within the Halls, then what horrors lie within the Tomb of the Mutilated that lie deep in the darkeness of the Halls, where even the executioners feared to tread.

***

Damien sat in the ULE City Presidential Hall, long abandoned. It's corridors still silent, filled with the cobwebs and dust of ages. It's walls still echo with the vigor that once ran through it. The lights flicker, and the sound of nothing is the only thing heard.

Damien walks to the Presidential Office and opens the door. Inside, a desk, a large chair, a few cabinets, and some shelves filled with dusty and yellowing books. He looked around and nodded his head, for he had made up his mind. This would be the site of his new throne room, where he would rule the Empire with his first of iron. He ordered the decorators in, and throughout the night, the ULE City Presidential Hall would be transformed.

Large painting from the medieval ages were brought in, depicting torture, plague, death, war, and torment. Gargoyles lines the upper walls, and statues of the Corpse God, along with other AMF Gods and warriors lined the corridors.

In the throne room, Damien watched as his throne of red obsidian was erected atop a pile of skulls fused with marble. The windows were tinted, so that when the moon rose, the room glowed with an eerie crimson color. The floors were redone, and polished obsidian covered the one highly traveld on tile floors. As the cusions were mounted on his throne, Damien sat. He felt rejuvenated by the power of the obsidian, and he watched as his oak tables, desk, and cabinets were put into place. The once bright halls now had an ugly, demonic, and haunting aura to it. The downstairs rooms were being transformed into interrogation rooms, where the most vile of offenders would go to lose their minds.

Sitting on his throne, perched atop a pile of skulls, Damien called to his messenger to send a transmission to Lord Bastien.

Tell him, I will be with him soon. For the first time, a Sentinel shall set foot on the lands of Pantera. And tell him, I bring gifts, and a promise. A promise that through this meeting, the very foundations of the Earth would never be the same.

Yes, M'Lord.

The messenger scurried off to the broadcasting room.


Bastien watched as his hounds tore into the prisoner. The man's piteous cries could be heard across the Seastone Palace, his wails anguished and terrible. The furry black warhounds savaged tore at the poor wretch, mericless, though they have care not to kill the man beforetime.

Bastien had enjoyed the prisoners torture for long enough, however, and quickly put him do death. Of Tilsitsin was the man, but he still had the courage to spit at Bastien before the longsword he carried thrust through the mans ribs.

Shaking his head Bastien wiped the blade clean on the mans shirtfront and turned, making his way from the dank dungeons and up into the sunlight. Since news of Dreadfires imminent arrival had reached Toke, the city had been afire. Feasts planned, wenches... With the aftermath of War being taken care of, and another conlict looking to the south of Pantera, in New Genoa, Bastien was pleased with Dreadfire's visit, and prayed it would go well. The smallfolk surely needed reassurance...

In the Grand Hall two great thrones have been placed, one a great hunk of burnished iron, fashioned into the likeness of a cresting wave, the other black marble and carved with hundreds of intricate figures. The marble shone in the firelight, the shadows dancing through the grooves of the carvings seeming to give life to the nude women and fully-armored warriors, the longships and the seabirds that had been carefully an intricately carved.

Calling to a servant, Bastien grunted. You there. To the cellars with you, eh? I want a crate of my finest brandy brought up, now.

The man bowed, hurrying away as Bastien headed for the Great Vault, set behind the dais and thrones and almost hidden by a fantastic tapestry depicting a burning village, longships sweeping across the bay in the distance.

Pulling a key from beneath his shirt, he thrust open the door and stepped into the musty old room. Not opened since Dayne was wed, almost two year ago, dust coated many of the treasures and crates stacked throughout the room.

He thought Dreadfire would be pleased with his gift, and should his Lady come, Bastien had a gift for her as well, though it wasn't found in the musty cellar.

Locating what he came for, Bastien finally moved and instructed his servants to remove the item and prepare it for Dreadfire's arrival.

Sighing, he went to visit his toddler son who frolicked happily in the shallow hotsprings beneath the great dome of the Glass Gardens. His wife, Queen Reaver Aquila Windwail sat nearby, smiling at the ferocious little boy as he leapt from a high rock into the pool of steaming water.

Bastien's own smile was bright as he moved and sat alongside her, speaking softly of Dreadfires impending visit, and the respnsibilities entailed. Aquila only smiled, her brilliant green eyes flashing as she waved away her husbands concerns, saying only, Calm yourself, Bastien. Dreadfire doesn't care about your brandy or your horses. He'll speak of Wars and Glory to come, love...

Bastien smiled once more, wrapping his great arms around his wife's slender midsection and nipping lightly at her neck with his teeth. She was right, of course. Yes, Wars and Glory to come, My lady...


Damien moved from room to room gathering his clothes, his papers, his "other" papers, and his gifts that he would present to the Lord Reaver. Damien regretted that Xel could not go with him, for she was aboard a Steel Buterfly ship, trying to mend old wounds of the past.

Making his way towards the AMFS Cataclysm, AMF's largest battleship, Damien and his close staff boarded. One lumbering step after another, Damien made his way onto the vessel and walked towards the forward deck. Soon he would be in Pantera, land of Blood and Fire, land where fools went to meet their demise.

Damien looked out at the vastness of the ocean, and he felt a bit nervous. This would be his first time in Pantera, and first time in a foreign land, save for returning to ancient AMF soil. He looked at the motionless waves, and the rising sun cast its colors about the silent tides.

The Cataclysm set sail for the Free Land of Pantera at 9 am, and Damien retired to his private quarters until the ship arrived.

***

As the Cataclysm neared Panteran shores, Damien looked through his window, staring at the gentle tides as they sway from side to side. The noon sun was bright, and reflected off of the waters below.

Sir, Pantera is just on the horizon

Damien looked up at the intercom on the wall. He pushed the black button on his desk, and replied.

Good. Tell the servents to make ready.

Aye sir.

Damien rose from his chair, and moved towards the exit. Opening the door, he stepped into the hallway, the red carpet leading towards the stairs, which lead to the deck above. Damien climbed the stairs, and stepped out onto the deck. He felt the heat of the sun on his bald head as he moved towards the bow of the Cataclysm.

Pantera was becoming more visable, and he stood at the very nose of the ship, obviously anxious to meet the Lord Reaver in person. He then turned, and began walking about the decks. His mind was not so much on the meeting with Bastien, but on his lover Xel, high in the heavens negotiating with an age old enemy of the Empire.

He would have to cast aside his thoughts for his mate, because his mind needed to be focused on Pantera and nothing else. The smell of death and fire swept across the deck, and Damien knew exactly what it was. It was the charred remnants of the Tilsitsinian forces, smoldering, festering, and rotting on the beach, in the water, and elsewhere. Damien inhaled, taking in the smells of war. He held his breath and soaked up it's unholy aura. He then exhaled deeply as the Cataclysm neared port.


Standing silently along the ancient stone piers stand rigid rows of thousands of Reavers, all dressed immaculately in ceremonial shining silver chain and platemail. All is quiet for the moment, save for the lap of the waves against pier and hull.

Far in the distance are the great cliffs of Toke, towering some three-thousand feet above the waters. Perched there is the Seastone Palace, it's soaring towers and walls grown thick with lichen. To the south stand the foothills of the Range of Rage and the great gate known as the Gade of the Gods, leading into Pantera impenetrable heartland stronghold, the Vale. Great grey clouds hung low over mountain and valley, the bright sunshine above strangely at odds with the gloomy cloud cover of the southern mountains.

As the great ship slid into port and secured itself, the Lord Reaver emerges from the midst of the crowd. Encased in golden platemail chased with ebony gliphs, Bastien the Bronze is a stunning figure, seemingly torn from legend and placed on the dock. A full seven feet tall, his long golden hair unbound and blowing in the breeze, he is a commanding presence.

As the ship settled, and the Warlord appeared, Bastien raised his voice, calling the ancient challenge, Who are those who come to Lands of the Reavers, friend or foe? Those who would be friend, come, and embrace me as a brother. Those who would be foe, have out with your blade, for you shall meet your death before you walk the Free Lands.

The assembled Reavers await a reply, stoicly intent on the huge Dreadfire and his retinue. Thier Lord watched, however, carefully studying Dreadfires face as he awaited the ritual response.


Sir, it's time.

The ship had pulled into port. The ramp leading fro the deck to the port was extended, and Damien made his way to the stairs. Dressed in black, red leather straps clasped in chain were strung across his chest. His wrist guards and single elbow gaurd were made of leather as well. This was his battle attire, worn in times of conflict. Swinging from his waist was the Relic's Sword, and he lumbered across the deck and down the ramp. His servents followed behind, keeping their distnace as the warlord decended onto the deck.

Damien moved across the deck, and stood face to face with Bastien. Standing 7 feet tall, he stood nose to nose with Bastien, only inches away from his face. Having heard the challenge of the Lord Reaver, Damien drew the Relic's Sword, holding it mightily in his right hand. He stepped back, stopping about 6 feet away from Bastien, Damien looked on with fiery eyes, but then raised the sword to his face in a salute. Swaying the sword to his side, he bowed his head in respect, then sheathed his weapon.

Damien smiled and chuckled, Good to finally see you face to face, my brother!. He moved towards Bastien with open arms, extended in brotherhood. It certainly was an unorthodox method for the Reavers, but it is custom in AMF to draw swords before saluting, that way you know if you are trusted or not. Damien hoped Bastien did not misinterpret his actions.


Bastien's eyes stared ahead as the blade was unsheathed, stoic and seemingly uncaring. The rows of Reavers stood calmly, rigidly, awaiting the Lord Reavers response.

At Damien's smile, Bastien inclined his head moving to embrace him quickly before turning and lifting his arms, My Reavers. You look upon those who will lead you into the future. Damien of the Dreadfire, Supreme Lord of Automagfreek. Welcome him.

The formerly stern and stoic Reavers erupted into cheers, screaming welcome and praise. The surging of shouts and the wail of pipes blended together into a single roaring voice, and the Lord Reaver shook his great arms for more.

A lithe woman, garbed in cimson silk emeged from the frothing crowd of Reavers, two large guards flanking her. Her brilliant red-hair and flashing green eyes shining in the afternoon sunlight. The shouting and cheering quiets respectfully as she makes her way forward, her gait smooth and graceful.

Approaching Damien, she holds out her hands, leaning forward to embrace the Warlord and place a small kiss on his cheek, My Lord Dreadfire, we welcome you to Pantera. I am Queen Reaver Aquilla Windwail, and the guest-right of my home is yours.

Bastien took his wifes arm lovingly, gesturing for silence to the once more riotous cheering of the Reavers, Feast and make merry this night, my warriors. A great day for us all, and one that should be celebrated. Drag the Waters.

Another great shout echoed across the docks before the mass of Reavers began to disperse. A gust of wind piks up and a mist of water coats those setill on the docks. Bastien smiles, looking to the looming mass of clouds to the south.

A Hellish gale it will be tonight, Dreadfire. A good night to drink by the fire, and discuss glories only glimpsed.




Coming onto the deck of the Cataclysm, rows of servents carried Damien's personal items, gifts, documents, and delicacies of AMF, food worthy of the Gods.

My brother Reavers, it brings me great joy to finally set foot in Pantera, place of legend, where fools go to meet their doom. I will bring back great tales to tell my people, and this is a day that shall echo throughout time itself!

He raised both hands in the air, fists clenched.

The New Dawn is here! Together, the future is ours!

After much cheering from both Reaver and Sentinel alike, Damien turned to Bastien.

Now, let us celebrate, let us feast. tonight, the world as we know it will evolve and enter a new era, and era where Reaver and Sentinel lurk throughout the shadows, striking fear into the hearts of coward heathens everywhere. Gone are the days of old, for the New Dawn has arisen. Come Bastien, I bring gifts from the Gods.


Loading Sentinels and Reaver Retainers aboard a large flatbed, Bastien beckons to Damien and leads his wife to a stretched burgundy limousine, and they make the short drive along the face of the cliff and up to the massive iron gates of the Seastone Palace.

After giving orders for the Sentinels to be billeted along with his own garrison, and that Damien's higher-ranking parties had recieved private chambers, the Lord Reaver led Damien to a quiet study.

A fire had already been laid in the great hearth, and the orange glow gave a warm glow to the room. Bastien gestures to a pair of huge hidebound chairs and makes his way to a long obsidian bar. Leaning over it he pulls a bottle of amber liquid from beneath it and produces two crystal glasses before returning to seat himself with Damien.

Pouring the glasses full and offering one to him, Bastien asks, What are your thoughts, Dreadfire? After the wait, I now know not what to say...

Chuckling, he raises the glass and swirls the liquid a bit before taking a large swallow and sighing as pleasant fire spread through his chest.


Damien chugged the drink, some spilling down his chin. He set the glass on the table, and wiped his chinwith the back of his right hand.

Well, I guess I'll go first. The first thing I want to address before we begin is the sudden international attention we are getting via the Blood Pact we both underwent. I know there are alot of nations out there that are worthy of participating in such an act, but we must be wary, for it is no secret that there are those that would see both our nations destroyed. But I'm in no way questioning the loyalty of our friends, I'm jsut saying that when it comes to signing the Pact of Blood, we must be extra cautious.

That being said, let us move on to other matters. The Sentinels are more than ready and willing to commit to Pantera, and the problems that are going on in the area. Should any coward strike Pantera of the Allied Powers, the Sentinels will grind any intruders into dust beneath the wheels of the mighty AMF war engine. I can assure you that through this Pact, nobody shall ever dare to tread near your territory, or ours for that matter. And should some heathen coward gather enough courage to strike us, we will unleash a fury that would make Hell tremble.

Damien was half out of his seat, and having realized that he was getting too caught up in the moment, he sat while looking about the room.

Since the Sentinels incarnation, it has been made clear that territorial intrusions will be met with extreme force, so I think your naiton and regional friends can rest, knowing the Sentinels wach over them.

Damien's servent entered, carrying a small black box.

Ah, I see my gift has arrived!

Damien rose from his chair, and started towards the servent. He took the box, and made his way back to the table. Setting the package down, he opened it, and said:

What I am about to give you has never been taken out of the ancient land, not even when wars ripped our lands to pieces thousands of years ago.

He removed it's contents, a life size human skull made out of red obsidian. It's canine teeth sharped and almost fang like, the very shiny red stone looked as if blood and brimstone were inside.

There is a special history behind this stone. Being some 5,000 years old, it is thought to give the power of foresight to those that hold it. Through careful meditation, the stone is said to weild mythical power, and was a feared object back in the days of the feudal Lords. Lord Constantine was the first documented holder of the stone, but one day he was struck down by his own brother, known only as Drake. Drake used the stone for 100 years as legend tells us, and after that time it drove him mad, and in his bed he butchered himself alive. Then the stone was lost for some 2,000 years until being found by another feudal Lord, and through the power of the stone was able to unite the nation under one banner, the same banner that would one day be Automagfreek. For good or evil, there is no doubt that this stone is not of this world, and it's corrupting influence tainting only those that are not worthy. Well Bastien, you are worthy, and now the stone belongs to you.

Damien handed Bastien the ancient artifact.

And when the moon if full, high in the night sky, it glows an eerie crimson. Red obsidian is a holy stone in AMF, and the stone existence is shrouded in mystery. That is why red obsidian is so widely used in the Empire, for it's unworldly nature.

Damien returned to his seat.


Bastien slowly ran his hands across the skull, his expression somber. For long moments he sits, staring at the artifact in the thickening silence.

Finally though his expression softens and he looks to Damien once more, A noble gift, Dreadfire. I hope to live up to the honor you've entrusted me with. Though I'm not sure if I am worthy to carry it... My heartfelt thanks, my brother...

Drawing a deep, heaving breath he stands and makes his way to a large chest. From within he produces a steel box, which he also unlocks. Producing a length of crimson silk, he carefully wraps the piece before returning it to the chest.

It shall go in the Great Vault, along with all other Panteran treasures, until such as time as it can be used...

Returning to his seat and taking up his glass, he takes another drink and seemingly chooses his words carefully. I agree, Dreadfire, about the nations flocking to us. Too many too soon. No telling how many have treachery in thier hearts... We shall see though, some have caught my interest.

With the defeat of Tilsitsin, matters are relatively calm in Pantera at the moment, though war with the Reich seems to be looming. A shame, that. Though most of them are fools and cowards, a fair chunk of them are implacable enemies. A hard-fought war it shall be, but with Reavers and Sentinels together we shall emerge triumphant.

First, though we must cement our power. Too many nations flock to our banners to leave them all to rot. Some would be well suited to stand alongside us... Others suited only to be used and discarded.

Coughing, he waves a hand and reaches for the brandy bottle once more, pouring a generous drought before offering the bottle to Damien and adding, A taste of paradise for the unworthy, eh? Promises of paradise and undying ecstasy will sway those who refuse to succumb to fire and sword. A lesson to be well learned, Dreadfire. your own thoughts?


Damien stood, and walked about the room.

It is a shame, Lord Reaver, that those who show so much potential must waste it. The Empire has been watching several nations for some time, but recently, some of those nations have made decisions that...have proved where their loyalties lie. I can assure you Bastien, that we must be extra careful who we trust. All that we have worked for could all be undone in an instant, and we will do everything in our power to make sure that a situation like that does not arise.

But, enough about the affairs of others. For now, let us take to the streets of Pantera!

That concludes the formation of the legendary Blood Pact, and the first half of my story. I could not fit this all into 1 post because it exceeded the character limit.

Heh, I was guessing you'd shatter that 10,000 character limit...

Anyway, TAG for reading in the morning.

I was over 63,000.

-tag-

I wonder how I missed all of that in my time here......probably because I was GDODAD at the time.....

Excellent writing....stealing my sleep.....

Wow. Been forever since I read that all the way through. Good stuff, AMF. Proud to be a part of it.

OOC: Hell yeah, and that's only half of it.

At least they will not question joo!
But does Damien have a sense of humor that doesn't involve sadistic killing?

Bump

tag!

Top notch stuff AMF (and Pantera's stuff is great too), definatly a good example to other nations!

Very good, to AMF and Pantera. This kinda makes me wish I was a good enough writer to make a history for my nation... can't wait for part 2!

Very good, to AMF and Pantera. This kinda makes me wish I was a good enough writer to make a history for my nation... can't wait for part 2!

If you have AIM or MSN send me your address in a telegram. I would be happy to help you get going on a history, if you'd like.

It was in this time that Damien had been seriously burned, his face a smattering of charred flesh and scars. It was also in this time that he began to lose his mind, and his lover Xel had finally reached her breaking point.


It was late in the afternoon, and the dying sun cast it's colors upon the Great Hall. One window on the third floor stood open, and the curtains fluttered as the dusky air blew in. The room was Xel's, and she had been busily moving about her room collecting her things. Several suitcases were sitting open on the large master bed, and Xel neatly folded her clothes and placed them inside the suitcases, next to her other possessions. Xel sniffled slightly as she moved about the room, until she heard footsteps coming up the staircase...it was Damien. He entered the room, and was a little taken back at what he saw, he had never seen Xel like this.

Going somewhere? Why are you taking so much stuff with you?

Xel kept moving about the room, and quickly muttered a reply.

It's none of your business where I'm going.

Damien was dumbfounded, he had never heard Xel speak to him like that before. He stepped further inside the room and carefully eyed Xel as she finished packing her things.

Why are you taking so many things for a trip? Most of your trips last only a few days!

Xel stopped in her tracks, felling she had better come clean. She closed some of the suitcases hastily, then taking in a deep breath, she approached Damien.

I'm not going on another trip, Damien...I'm...I'm.... She sighed loudly as she moved back towards the bed, but Damien's hand grabbed Xel's arm, swinging her around. Her long black hair twirled as Damien brough Xel about, looking her in the face. She seemed troubled, and for the first time Damien could see Xel's human emotions showing. Tell me what's going on. Damien huffed. Xel's face quivered abit, trying to find the right words. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Damien released his grip on Xel, and began gently pacing. So you're not going to tell me what's wrong, eh? You said you're not going on one of your tours, so that leaves me with no other assumption. I'm not stupid Xel, I know what's going on!

Xel turned to Damien, her emotions running rampant now. Do you? Do you Damien? You don't know what's going on with me! Something has changed in you Damien, you are not the same man that I once knew...and loved. Damien halted, and looked at Xel, puzzled. Xel was starting to sob now, a tear sneaking out from behind her big brown eyes. Do you even know what all this recent shit has been doing to me? I feel like I don't even know you anymore Damien, you're like a stranger. All you ever do is hang around with your Generals and Bastien, and you never make any time for me! I'm just an object to you! If you think for a second that my automatronics have silenced my feelings inside, you're wrong. I'm not just a "thing" Damien, and you seem to be forgetting that.

Xel grabbed her suitcases and started down the stairs, and Damien followed right behind. Damien moved in front of her after they had decended the staircase. Look Xel, alot of shit has been going down lately, and I have a job to do. I'm sorry if I can't fuck you every night, or be there to listen to how your day was. I'm trying to keep our nation alive, and our people safe. You know this Xel, don't play stupid. Xel continued to walk towards the door. It's not that Damien, it's just that you've become a shell of the man that I once knew.

Damien forcibly stopped Xel, and tore the mask off his sizzled and scarred face. Is this why Xel? Am I not "pretty" enough for you? Damien barked, raising his hand to his face. If you're judging me by my appea... Xel cut Damien off. No Damien! You are so stubborn! You are refusing to stop and listen to me! Instead of just shutting your damn mouth and listening, you're making these stupid assumptions for yourself. You're wrong Damien, it's not the fact that you're scarred, it's the fact that you're become an animal. Xel was visibly angry, her teeth were clenched as tears streamed down her face. You're a monster Damien, incabable of loving anything but yourself and your nation. Well, have fun with your guns, your troops, your friends, and your Empire, I'm leaving you.

Xel threw open the doors, a car waiting for her. Damien stopped at the door, and screamed. You can't leave me! I made you what you are! Xel turned her head, and calmly replied. That's right Damien, you made me strong enough to see right through you. Goodbye. Xel got into the car, and it sped off leaving Damein standing at the open door. His face quivered with emotion, his thoughts racing through his head. He raised his hands to his head, exhaling deeply. Then, Damien caved.

He dropped to his knees, sobbing and snarling. He sit hunched over, his face buried in his mighty hands as he cried for the first time in his life. He threw his arms out beside him, and with his face looking towards the Heavens, he roared: WHY???????? Why..... Damien sat on the lawn of the Great Hall, watching the sun die as it's colors of red and orange painted the sky.

***

We now come to a time when Automagfreek turned from the light and waded into darkness. It was during such time that Damien had lost his mind and resurrected the long dead GDODAD and unleashed it's menace upon the Earth once more. Damien had a servant girl named Rayne appointed to to help him lead the Empire, but little did he know treachery was in her heart.

Dreadfire had been flown back to ULE City due to recent tensions with Russian Forces over eastern Europe. Greece was AMF territory, and Mr. Putin's aggression was of prime concern. Zander (Damien's right hand man) arrived in Omz222 to oversee the gradual withdrawl and redeployment of AMF forces to protect Greece from the Red Army's warmongering hunger. Stepping out of his modified SR-71A2, Damien made his way towards the Great Hall. Walking slowly up the marble steps, he noticed a dark figure in the doorway. It was Rayne, and she claimed that she had urgent news for Damien. Intrigued, Damien took Rayne into his office where he sat.

So, what is this news you have for me? I was already briefed a few hours ago! Damien spoke with an almost annoyed tone in his voice. Rayne sat in front of Damien's desk and crossed her legs. She then spoke in a matter of fact tone. Well Damien, in case you haven't noticed, things back home have been drastically different since you decided to go off and play soldier. Well, that did it...Damien was pissed now. Well Rayne, I'm not like most leaders who make war, then hide in their quarters, safe from the hell of combat. I lead from the front, wench, not from the rear. A leader should actually lead, and not just bark orders. I'm sorry if I have more honor than that.

Rayne held back a chuckle and stood, walking to the window. The sun began dying, leaving it's colors strewn across the sky. Damien, Damien....you know so little. She drew her sidearm, and standing about 15 feet away, she pointed it at Damien's face. While you were gone..well...let's just say that we are under new management now. With the fire inside him growing, Damien took a step forward. Rayne cocked the hammer on her pistol as Damein spoke. So Rayne, you're going to use a coward's weapon on me? Let me just say this, whore: you better hope that bullet kills me on the spot, or else I will rip you limb from limb.

With that, Rayne spoke one final time. Oh, I think it will. Goodbye Mr. Dreadfire. The next gunshots you will be hearing is a 21 gun salute. Damien scowled and took another step forward. Rayen pulled the trigger, sending a silenced bullet inbetween the eyes of Damien. The bullet struck his skull, sending a cloud of blood into the air. Rayne then fled the room, leaving Damien laying on the ground in a puddle of blood.

Damien then sat up, removing his facemask.

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Blood poured from his wound, running down his face and dripping onto the floor. Damien stood, his vision impaired fromt he impact. Dazed, he stumbled out of his chambers and through the corridors of the Great Hall. The staff was off for the night, so there was nobody to help the Warlord. Throwing open the main doors and with a shattered skull, Damien began stumbling to the hospital which was 10 miles away.

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After about 2 miles, he collapsed from the blood loss. Clawing himself forward, Damien kept going, his rage his only saving grace. A police officer noticed the bloodied and dying Damien and helped him into his squad car.


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

AMF News Update

We have confirmed news that there was an assassination attempt on our leader Damien an hour or so ago. Damien was spotted trying to walk himself to the hospital and was spotted by a police man doing a routine traffic stop. Damien was struck with a pistol round inbetween his eyes, and he is still in the OR in extremely critical condition. Police are scouring ULE City looking for the assassin. Rayne Xolantra gave this statement:

I can assure you all that we are taking all appropriate measures to apprehend this assassin. We are not sure at this time if Damien is going to survive his wound, and I ask all Freeks to pray for his safety.


http://67.18.37.14/40/9/upload/p1011623.jpg
Rayne Xolantra
Potentate Striker of Automagfreek
G.D.O.D.A.D



Rayne had made her decision. The time of her ascention was at hand...or was it?


59 minutes later he was on a respirator. The bullet had been removed, but the damage had been done. Damien had flatlined 3 times in an hour and a half since he was shot, and the once proud 7 foot warlord lay motionless. The only sounds that filled the room were the beeping of the heart monitor and the wheezing of the respirator.

Damien slowly began to slip again, and this time it was longer than any of the other times. Suddenly, everything was white.....and Damien stepped forward and found himself in a green pasture. A lone figure stood in the vast field, and he spoke to Damien. Hello Damien. Slightly panicked, Damien shouted: Am I dead?!? The figure walked towards him, and in a calm and assuring voice, he spoke. No Damien, you are not dead yet. People who have experienced this before call it a "near death" experience. It is where the soul temporarily leaves the body and is free to wander throught time and space. This my friend, is the spirit realm. While your body still lives, your soul has found this place. Now come, we have something to discuss. They began walking across the green grass, the sun shining bright in the noon sky.

Damien, since your creation you were special. The Gods hand picked you Damien, to rise above your ancestors. You have taken yourself and your people to new heights, although the path you chose was covered in blood. These past few years, great change came to your nation through your rule....some good, and some bad. What you need to ask yourself is this: what business on Earth has not been finished? Damien thought long and hard. The man spoke again. No need to answer now though, you have all the time in the world for that. In case you are wondering why this is happening to you, I will tell you. Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end, Damien. Your rise to power was the end of Kaye's beginning. Now, Rayne's rise to power is the end of your beginning.

Damien then spoke, trying to make sense of what is happening. But, I can't die yet...I still have unfinished business. The man stopped, and placed both hands on Damien's shoulders. Revenge is hardly unfinished business. If you want to live simply to persecute the one that has taken your rule, then I'm sorry....you can't go back. Revenge is not acceptable. Think of it Damien, what else is left to accomplish? Damien could not think straight, too much information was being bombarded at him. Why are you telling me this? You're saying that I have a choice, but at the same time I don't! The man nodded his head, then replied grimly. I'm trying to save your soul, Damien. In case you haven't noticed, your deeds are hardly the kind of deeds that get a man into Heaven. You are an evil man Damien...but there is hope for you. The Shadow Realm seeks to devour your soul and keep it there for all eternity, and I am trying to lead you to the light. Or, shall you be doomed to wander inbetween the Light and the Dark, a pained and tormented entity for all eternity?

Damein paused, trying to make up his mind. I can't leave yet...I'm not ready. This cannot be my destiny, to die on my back in some hospital! Dying like a weakling after being shot by a traitorous bitch! Oh no, that is not my fate, that cannot be my fate!

Damien suddenly came to again, the heart monitor going crazy. Doctors rushed in shouting and moving about.



Damien's soul had been waiting in limbo between the realms, deciding on what path he should choose. He had thought about what the strange figure had told him, but he felt as if something had been left out. He felt as if the figure was purposly not telling him something....but he couldn't put his finger on it.

He had made his decision, and he appproached the figure. My mind is made up, and my course is set. The figure took a few steps forward, saying Good! in response. The figure attempted to take his hand, but Damien did not budge. I do not believe what you said. You seemed almost hesitant to tell me extactly what the Gods had in store for me. Think of it, the nightmares, the entire fucking nation going straight the Hell, dosen't that tell you something? The figure was taken back abit. Excuse me? Damien cut him off before he could finish. If my destiny was truely to die at the hands of a traitorous bitch, then there would be no reason for you to speak to me. But...you have, you've seemed eager to "guide me to the Light", to take my place in the spirit realm. You know what that tells me? It tells me you're afraid. You're afraid of what might happen if I turn away from you and choose my own path. You're afraid, admit it. The figure was speechless. Damien turned the opposite direction, and replied one final time. For better of worse, I stand alone.
------------------

Damien's heart monitor stopped for the 4th time, and again the doctors rushed in. They hit him several times with the paddles and admistered adrenaline, but nothing could revive Damien. After 10 minutes of no activity, the great Automagfreek Warlord Damien, nicknamed Damien Dreadfire by his beloved Panteran brethren, was pronounced dead at 7:06 pm. Under full escort, his body was taken to Draegor-Langendorf Funeral Home where preperations were being made for his burial.

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

His eyes red and mouth quivering, Minister Hartman slowly made his way to the head of the podium, and began his speech.

Good evening ladies and gentlemen of the world. Today, we the people of Automagfreek have suffered a terrible loss, possibly the greatest in our history. Our leader Damien Dreadfire did not recover from his wounds. He died at exactly 7:06 pm today, and his funeral will be held in 2 days.

A loved and hated man, Damien did exactly what he said he would do, take his nation to heights that it never reached before. Well, for better or worse, he succeeded. He improved the state of our nation 3 fold, and although the road was rocky towards the end, he always had hope for the future, and he always did what he thought was best for his people. He loved his people more than anything, and I'm sure they'll miss him greatly.

Damien, wherever you are, may your soul rest in peace for all eternity. Goodbye friend.

http://www.sideshowtoy.com/images/gold/thumb/3401.gif
Minister Hartman
-Minister of Foreign Affairs-


The afternoon was clear, and the sun was bright in the sky. ULE Cemetary was filled with many hundreds of people waiting to pay their past respects to Damien. Sitting silently in his casket, Damien's body was ready to be returned to the Earth Mother. The casket was suspended over the 6 foot hole, and around the warlord's body AMF dignitaries stood. Representatives from aound the globe had gathered to remember Damien Dreadfire, the man that forever changed Automagfreek. Hartman and Kimble began making their way from person to person, thanking them for coming.


A priest dressed in a black robe made his way to the front. He carried no book nor paper, but instead what he would say would come from his heart. The massive crowd grew silent, and everybody began taking their seats. The priest cleared his throat, and spoke.

Brothers and sisters, Freeks and friends, I thank you for coming. Darkness has once again engulfed our nation, for our most beloved leader Damien was struck down in his prime. I come to you today and ask you not to mourn Damien's loss, for mourning was not his way. Damien was a truely special being, given to us by the high Gods themselves. The flame that was inside him raged for many years, and many felt it's wrath. Damien would not want you to weap for him, oh no. Instead, he would ask us to find whoever commited this atrocity and strike down upon them with great vengeance and furious anger. Such was Damien's way, for in Damien's words, "Anger can accomplish more than despair." I can assure you Damien, oh great warlord of Automagfreek, that your memory shall never be forgotten, and your assassin will be brought to justice. Your legacy shall never fade, and your name will live on forever.

The priest then raised his hands to the sky, and began an ancient ritual. Oh Great Spirits of above, hear me now. You have given us a great gift, but now we must return him to you. His body will be planted inside Earth Mother, and his spirit will be yours once again. Oh Spirits above, protect Damien on his journey to the Spirit Realm. Great Spirits, through your graces, may Damien's legacy echo throughout eternity!

A chilly wind quickly blew, then faded. The priest lowered his hands, and began praying over Damien's body. He waved his hands over Damien, and placed two pieces of red obsidion over his eyes. Taking a step back, the priest then bowed his head, and Damien's casket decended into the hole.

A sudden crackle of rifle fire could be heard as the 21 gun salute commenced. Looking on as Damien decended into the hole, Hartman, Jackson and Kimble were silent and teary eyed. Rayne on the other hand occassionally glanced at her watch, and sighed heavily from time to time. She did not want to be there, but she tried her best to fake it.

The casket had reached the bottom, and service was officially over as dirt was poured on top of Damien. The Warlord's body had now been returned to Earth Mother, and now power had officially transfered to Rayne. She now took over as acting Dictator of Automagfreek.

AMF dignitaries continued to visit with their friends from abroad as the service was now over.

Late at night, ULE City Cemetery


It was now night, and the funeral had long been over. Damien's cold body laid peacefully in it's coffin, 6 feet underground. Headlights cast shadows on the surrounding grave markers as a van drove towards where Damien had been laid to rest. As it quietly came to a halt, several people dressed in black exited the van. Once began loading a shotgun, and one of the mysterious figures said, What do you need that for? The man finished loading the gun and replied, Damien is just as dangerous in death as he was in life. I'm not taking any chances.

The figures started taking shovels out of the van. Did you get Damien's blood? Said a shadowy voice. Yeah, but the damn security system at the funeral parlor was tough. I've got it though. Another replied. Shut the hell up you two, now get to work! A third (slightly angry) voice uttered. The figures made their way towards Damien's grave, and began digging. Deeper and deeper they dug, until they hit Damien's coffin. Alright, pry his ass on out of there.

After a few minutes, they dragged Damien's lifeless into the van and drove away, only after reburying the now empty casket. After a 20 minute drive, they pulled into a warehouse, where none other than Rayne herself stood. She watched as the figures pulled Damien out of the van and set the dead warlord on a table. The sounds of saws echoed throughout the warehouse as Damien's corpse was cut into pieces. After a few minutes of cutting, the warlord was in several pieces. Rayne then gave directions to the men. I want you to take Damien's limbs and place each of them at the 4 corners of Automagfreek. I want his torso buried under ULE City Library, and I want his head in the Halls of the Dead. His blood will be kept in my quarters. Should any religious freaks get any ideas about digging the ole' bastard up, they'll find nothing but an empty casket. Now get moving.

With that the group split up and began following out their orders.

***

With Damien dead and his body mutilated, Rayne was now free to rule as she saw fit. Here first objective: destroy Damien's Sentinels and replace them with her own super-soldier.

AMF News Update:

Today Potentate Striker Rayne Xolantra made a public statement concerning the Automagfreek military and it's current state. As of now, the Sentinel contingent that made up the entire AMF military is being decommissioned. They are scheduled to be replaced by a newer, more sophisticaed brand of soldier.

Today marks a new beginning for my Empire. With the sad death of Damien also comes the death of his "Sentinels". They are obsolete creatures and are of no further use to me. They will be replaced with a new model of soldier whihc will be far more effective than the Sentinels could ever be. As Damien's Sentinels were made in his image, these new soldiers will be made in my image. The new soldiers can only be produced in small numbers at one time, and they are heavily modified. They are also all female, and their enhanced skills make the non-enhanced Sentinels look pathetic.

I am not sure what to do with the millions of Sentinels still in AMF, but I will deciede shortly.

http://67.18.37.14/40/9/upload/p1011623.jpg
Rayne Xolantra
Potentate Striker of Automagfreek
G.D.O.D.A.D

Hartman stormed out of the former Senate building. He was 100% disgusted by Rayne's decision to terminate the Sentinels, and he could not stand by and see it happen. Although they were created in a lab, they are still people who loyally serve their Empire. I can't believe Rayne would shit on them like this... Hartman thought as he angrily made his way to Defense Chairman Jackson's quarters. Pounding on his door, Hartman waited impatiently for the tired Jackson to open up. As the door slowly opened, Hartman stormed inside, saying loudly. Grab your things Sam, we're leaving. The woozy Jackson replied, Huh? Where are we going? Hartman began gathering things of Jackson's and placing them in suitcases. We're going to Camp Rock military base. We've got some issues that need to be worked out.


Hours later, at Camp Rock

Still angry, Hartman began addressing those present. Alright men, we all know the situation at hand. Since Damien died, this whole damn country has done to shit. Project Black Storm has ceased to exist, and the Sentinels are sceduled for termination. Gasps and whispers filled the room, and the occassional word stood out...genocide....unbelievable...war....

What I need now is for us to use whatever influence we have left and rally the Sentinels that are still free. We don't have much time. Send out heavily encoded transmissions ONLY to those that we can trust 100%. I'm sure Bastien the Bronze will be the first we contact. Now, get moving.

AMF was close to a second civil war, but Hartman knew that there was only one being that could truly defeat Rayne an stabilize the country....Lord Damien himself. An expedition was brought underway to gather his scattered body parts and revive him with the aid of a Freek priest.

The Sentinel Stalkers waited in a van across the street from the library. When the staff packed up and left for the night, the Stalkers exited the van equipped with silenced SBP-90 assult rifes outfitted with targeting computers that had thermal sensors and advanced tracking/locating hardware. Slipping silently down the dark alley inbetween the library and a residential building, the Stalkers shot their grappling hooks onto the roof and begun towing themselves up. A slight pitter-patter sound barely echoed it's way into the streets as the Stalkers finished their ascention onto the roof and readied themselves. The team leader took a glass cutting kit out from his utility belt and began carving a circle into the skylight. After a few minutes of sawing, the leader removed a piece of glass a few feet in diameter, and the other Stalkers placed their eyepieces over their eyes and did a final check of their equipment.

Rappeling into the room slowly, the pointmen scanned the room with their rifles, one hand on the gun and one hand on the cable. The main foyer of the library checked out, so the 3 pointmen signaled the others down. 12 other Stalkers rappeled down and began securing the main room, paying special attention to the shadows. So far the Stalkers were right on schedule as they finished clearing the foyer. They decided against using the elevators, so they made their way into the main entrance area where a staircase lead to the basement. The pointmen opened the large oak doors slowly, clearing the hall inch by inch. With a slight gesture of their hands, the Stalkers moved forward towards the stairs. They placed fiber optic cables under the door, scanning for booby traps or other devices. The team leader opened the door slowly and the other followed down the stairs. So far, the leader was a little disappointed in the lack of defenses Rayne had set up. Sir, we're nearing the spot. A Stalker whispered to the leader. Tiptoeing across the concrete tile floor, the same Stalker paused and peered at his rifle's computer. I'm standing right on top of it.

Another Stalker pulled out a few large crowbars and passed them around. They placed the ends on the seam of the cracked tile and began prying it open. After minutes of trying to break the seal, the tile poped open banging on the floor. The Stalkers winced because of their mistake, but they knew their opponents were expecting them. Again the fiber optics went down, and the leader saw a narrow hall filled with pipes and dust. They switched on their night vision goggles and one at a time began moving into the hole.

The concrete pebbles crunched as the Stalkers jumped down the shallow hole with their weapons drawn. They had a feeling that now was the time the shit would hit the fan, because now they were nearing the location fo Damien's torso....and the Strikers. Moving slowly in formation, they silently made thier way down the dank passageway. There wasafaint light at the end of the passageway, and from there the room expanded abit. They were now in the drainage system, and the room was slightly steamy because of the water pipes and moisture of the place. The lead pointman continued making his way further down with the rest of the Stalkes right behind him. Out of nowhere, a flash of red and black passed in front of the pointman, and suddenly he stood still. After 3 or 4 seconds of standing still his head slowly slipped off his shoulders, hitting the floor with a thunk sound. The Stalkers snapped into action, moving their weapons across the room scanning for this presense. They moving tighter to the wall and took a staggered defensive position, waiting for the Striker to make it's move again. Towards the rear of the Stalker column, a Stalker stood pressed up against the wall near a series of pipes. He began scanning the shadows for the Striker, but got nothing so he turned and began clearing the other shadows. He was suddenly lifted off his feet, and without a sound he disappeared into the shadows above him without a trace. A lone Stalker saw this and opened fire into the shadows, and this triggered the other Stalkers. They began firing into every shadow and into every nook and cranny until the team leader shouted Cease fire! Don't shoot what you can't see! Stalkers, move forward towards the light, we don't stand a chance in here.

The Stalkers moved double quick towards the lighted room, and as they did a sound similar to a bowling ball echoed through the room as another Stalker head rolled quickly past the other men. Keep moving you dogs! shouted the leader. They ran into the larger room and immediatly took up positions around the doorway. The lit candles provided enough light to fill the room, so the Striker would be at a disadvantage. A whoosh sounds came from the doorway followed by a blur, and again the Stalkers opened fire. The blur zigged and zagged through their ranks, and a few Stalkers took friendly fire, but continued as if nothing happened. They were not made to feel pain nor fear, and this was their only saving grace. The Striker took a hit surprisingly considering how fast it was moving, and in a move of desperation slashed the throat of another Stalker. As the Striker paused to do this, the Stalkers saw it for what it was....a female. As she hacked into the soldier's throat, a deafening yell filled the room. The Strikers eyes suddenly grew wide, and a her moth went agape as she looked at her chest and saw 2 large blades sticking out. The team leader had skewered her with his War Blades (OOC: It's a forearm mounted device that has 2 razor sharp claws inside that can project out. Think a mechanical version of Wolverine's claws), and his anger was visable. The Striker moaned and shrieked as she was lifted off the ground with 1 arm of the leader. The leaders rage grew as he held his prey suspended above him, but then he suddenly retracted his War Blades, sending the Striker to the floor. He then drew his sword and in a flash the Striker's head went sailing into the air.

With 4 of his 15 men dead, the leader gathered his men and moved out. There were still 2 of these things out there, but the bloodlust of the Stalkers grew as they felt the aura of Damien driving them forward.

1 down, 2 to go... the leader thought to himself. These Strikers were far too dangerous even for highly trained genetically modified beings as themselves. The leader knew that this could not continue because there would be no way in hell they would survive fighting 2 of these things at once. Dropping pack, the team began assembling a robotic combat drone. It was together in a matter of minutes, and a Stalker gathered the SBP-90's of the fallen men and placed 2 of them on the turret locks. Fully loaded and assmebled, the drone was set to detect motion in both the front and sides of itself. The Stalkers wore identification tags so that the robot would recognize them as friend and not fire upon them. A soldier stood in the middle of the now ready Stalker column, and with the robot out front they began making their way into the final room where Damien's torso lay. The lighting was decent in the dank caverns, and the robot had no problems operating as it's mini rubber treads rolled across the floor. The turret rotated back and forth scanning the walls and ceiling, and the rest of the Stalkers moved in slowly with their rifles drawn. The robot stopped and began firing in all directions as the 2 Strikes darted back and forth. The Stalkers in turn opened fire, spraying madly to try and take these ungodly whores out quickly.

The Strikers changed course and came whizzing right at the Stalkers. The sentry was running low on ammo, but actually managed to hit a Striker in the torso, dropping it to the ground. However, this also provided enough of a distraction to allow the other Striker to move right into the Stalker ranks, slashing open the stomachs of 2 men, sending their entrails to the floor. The Stalkers dropped their rifles and drew swords as the Striker's warblades sunk themselves into yet another man. Screams and metal clanking drowned out all other sounds as the sentry put the last few dozen rounds into the downed Striker, spraying her black blood against the cold stone walls. The last Striker was slicing her way through the Stalker ranks and easily overcame them considering the Stalkers were some of the deadliest fighter in the world. Without fear the Stalkers continued fighting until a lone sword connected with the Striker's arm, and with an upward motion the limb was sent flying and was followed by a large jet of blood. A cry of agony rang out as sword after sword slashed her bit by bit, slowly disecting her alive until she drew breath no more.

At last, the way had been cleared to the alter. The remaining Stalkers placed their swords in their sheaths and walked very slowly to the glass case on top of the alter. Inside was the torso of the great warlord Damien, and with all it's appendages missing, it didn't even look like a human torso. The Stalkers bowed in respect, then with great haste took up the case and retreated, leaving their dead where they lay. The night air was calm as the Stalkers climbed atop the room once again. A truck was parked across the street, and its driver was none other than Hartman himself.

Come, we must make haste to the Halls. I pray our friends were successful in their quest, because time is indeed running out. The priest is ready, we must leave! And with that, the truck sped off headed towards the Halls of the Dead.

With Damien's soul on the Other Side and making ready to return to the world of the living, he channeled all of his spiritual energy and spoke to Bastien the Bronze from across the realms.

It had seemed like only an hour ago Damien arrived in the Afterlife, but it had been many years. Damien had been engulfed in darkness since he turned his back in defiance to the Gods, but he knew that something was amiss back on Earth. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could see what was going on...Operation: Silent Hammer.....the systematic toppling of Rayne, the one who killed him. He also saw his friend Bastien, and he had been more withdrawn since the passing. He thought about it for a minute, then decided that it was time...time to channel his energies and speak to Bastien from the other side. Damien closed his eyes and concentrated hard on Bastien, and he saw him. And in that moment, Damien spoke:

Hello Bastien. There is much peril in the world right now, I have seen it. I apologize for my departure and the aftermath of it because up until now I have done nothing...I could not do anything. But now a great quest has begun on Earth, and the valiant actions of these heros has stirred me here in the other side. I have awakened from my slumber Bastien, the Dread Fires are beginning to be rekindled! Prepare for my arrival, old friend...I will see you soon.....

And with that, Damien concentrated as hard as he possibly could, and sent a vision to Bastien....
http://207.44.246.95/40/9/upload/p3403.jpg

...a vision of himself, alive and unscarred. Damien exhaled and opened his eyes, and he hoped his friend heard him from across the realms.

Bastien convulses, clawing his way through sleep and dreams to wake. His blankets are covered in sweat and his thick blonde hair matted to his forehead.

A dream... Only a dream.

Climbing from the bed, Bastien pads naked to a bedside table and pours himself a large draught of brandy that he swallows back immediately. Filling the glass once more, he moves to a large, hiebound chair and slumps down, heart still thumping wildly.

Damien, my old friend. Why do you haunt my dreams still? Does the call of warm flesh and cold steel still sing to you?

Sighing, Bastien nurses his brandy, and several more glasses before finally slumping low in the great chair and closing his eyes. With Dayne missing, and the South on the verge of Blood Feud, he had slept too little lately, and what sleep he stole was haunted by nighmares. Finally, though, he drifts off, his thoughts on Dreadfire and what could have been.

Only a dream...


For many days now a rumble echoed inside the Halls of the Dead. From behind it's gates of gloom, this disturbance seemed to be originating from the undersections of the Halls. The rumbling grew louder day by day...echoing up from a simple cellar door. Yes, the Tomb of the Mutilated had been disturbed for the first time due to the major buildup up psychokinetic energies in the country. After Damien reached across the boundaries of the realms to contact Bastien, the doors to the Tomb blew open explosively coughing up a single entity. With great speed this entity passed down the corpse ridden corridors, until it came upon a collection of Rayne's Strikers. Within a split second, the Strikers were turned to blackened dust as this entity passed through them. It paused at the gates and gathered it's energies, and in a blast of power threw open the sealed gates of the Halls.

The entity raced over the Halls and over the countryside, through the woods, and over the streams, across the valleys and over the mountains, and across the ocean, past the beach, and over the plains, and up the hill, and into Bastien's room. It paused suspended above the sleeping Bastien, and slowly began manifesting itself. While Bastien slept, the entity took up a seat and began speaking to Bastien. His words were as rough as stone, and the entity kept Bastien asleep as it spoke.

Bastien.......a storm is coming, for I have been awakened from my slumber. The Dread Fires burn once again Bastien....for you can feel them even now, can't you? We must make haste and ready for the glorious Second Coming of the Dread Fires. The storm brews ever violently Bastien....do not let the Flame consume you...


http://67.18.37.14/40/9/upload/p968858.jpg
The One Who Shall Remain Unnamed
[-Lord of the Death Dealers-
Servant of the Dread Fires

***

The van arrived outside the blackened gates of the Halls of the Dead, and as soon as it stopped the doors flew open. Rifles drawn, the Stalkers were the first ones in, followed by Hartman and the torso and blood of Dreadfire. As the group closed the gates of gloom behind them, they saw a singular figure standing dead center in the corridor. Surrounded by the faded and decomposed corpses of a thousand man, the figure stood without a motion. Come.....there is great evil here, but take heart.....the darkness is not here to comsume you. All those that are unjust have already been expelled by the mighty specters that dwell here. As he said this, he motioned towards his feet at the piles of ash...the ash of the Strikers. Come now my children, there is much work to be done. Lowering their rifles the group made their way down the dank corridors past many a grizzly sight, but they continued undaunted. The cries from the Halls had long since faded, and making their way past the holding cells where many a man went insane, they stepped into the main torture room. As big as a cathedral, they starred in awe at the unworldly devices around them. Spots of red still stained the cold stone floor, and if you listened carefully enough, you may even yet catch a hint of a scream still echoing through time.

The priest placed the torso on the sacrificial altar, right next to where Damien's head sat encased in glass. Removing the decomposed head of Dreadfire from it's case, the priest chanted unworldy words as he connected the head onto the torso. The priest closed his eyes after doing so, and with an exhale, said Can you feel that...... He then inhaled deeply. Even now, His aura intensifies.......can you feel it? The priest removed an ancient book from his cloak and opened it on the alter mere inches away from Damien. He then lit the candles that sat for ages, and the room was filled with warm light. Yes my friend, we call to you....

{Posted by Copiosa Scotia}

The eight figures wore simple street clothes now, and each carried a medium-sized duffel bag as they approached the towering St. Freeks cathedral in St. Freeksburg.

"So, this is the place?" Bolt asked as she brushed back a lock of reddish-brown hair.

"That's right," Mark Reiner replied. "The long-lost extremity should be in the tunnels below the cathedral."

Shading her eyes from the sun, she read the sign near the cathedral entrance. "'Under Renovation.' Seems Hartman's pulled a few strings to get us in here undisturbed."

They strolled up to the hard-hatted man by the entrance, who waved them away as they approached. "Sorry, we're closed today."

Reiner didn't even slow down. He just looked up at the clear sky, shook his head, and recited the phrase he'd been given in Hartman's last message. "Yeah, we just wanted to get in out of the rain for a bit." The man let them pass without another word.

Scott Mead, Squad One's heavy equipment specialist, glanced about the spacious interior of the cathedral as they entered, then cast a sidelong glance at Bolt. "Hartman may have been more interested in getting us in than in getting us all out. I don't see our backup."

Medic Glenn Daszkowski nodded. "If those Strikers are half the fighters Hartman said they were, we're going to need the help. I don't like our chances alone."

"Everyone's got a weakness," tech specialist Danny Ingram interrupted. "The Strikers will be strong and quick, but they've been in the system since birth, and they won't think fast on their feet. It's like beating a computer program. We just have to give them situations they're not trained for."

"That's right," Reiner said. "And while I fire off a quick 'Where is my blasted help?' to a certain rebellious Foreign Minister, I want you guys to get to work on figuring out just what those situations might be."

The eight figures were inside the darkened cathedral now, and inside it was as silent as a tomb. Except for the occassional clap of thunder and flash of lightning, not a sound was generated inside. The eight figures took a few steps forward, sizing up the situation. As they did this, the sounds of gravel or concrete hitting the floor broke the silence. The figures stopped, and yet more of this substance fell from above, hitting a few on the head. They looked up into the darkness, and in a sudden moment, 4 sets of green lights peered back at them. They grew alarmed quickly as the lights began moving downward at a rapid rate, decending all the way to the ground. The thud of 4 sets of combat boots broke the silence yet again, and all of a sudden words filled the air. We've been waiting for you. There is no time to lose. The 4 switched off their targeting computers, instantly killing the light. One of the 4 spoke again. Stalker #407-599-01 reporting as ordered by R. Hartman. I take it you are here to accomplish objective #3 of Operation: Silent Hammer. Come, we will lead the way. We do not expect to make it out of here alive, but our job is to make sure you all do. Come, make haste.

The 4 began moving quickly to the cathedral's stairs, securing each corner and shadow as they passed. Fiber optics went under the door and thus one Stalker gave the go ahead. With a rush, the door flew open, and the Stalkers decended into the darkness.

{Posted by Tersanctus}

In southern AMF, a mysterious convoy of black Hummer's made their way to an "abandoned" Military Base. Driving along the coast, there were no other cars in sight. Than again who would be up in this hour?

"Well so far, there has been no snags with the coast guard or anything. Hartman's doing pretty good. OK, listen gents, the intelligence we have is that after Damien returned to the planet, they didnt occupy the Kaye AMF Naval Base, and it ran into disrepair over the years, but Rayne used this for one of her locations, and we dont know if their will be any guards, or Kungshao Forbid, Strikers. But there will be counter measures for sure. Lets go!"

As two dozen Humvees pulled up Three Teams ran across the sand to the fences blocking entrance to base, with faded "Authorized Personnel Only" signs with some AMF Government Insignia's.

Immedeatley, A few dozen men approached the gate, and one pulled out a cutting torch, the blue flame turning the rusty gate into a hot-orange color. As it fell, the Three Teams immedeatley rushed a few dozen yards, virtually invisible in there black BDU's. There Combat boots making crunching sounds along the sand as it made way into concrete.

Than suddenly, there was a horrific explosion, one of the men who made his way along the sands stepped on a mine, his body landed a few feet from the first team.

"SHIT! Everyone DOWN!" Said a team leader into his Whisper-mic. The other two teams immdeately fell onto there stomachs and made the rest of there way stabbing the sand looking for mines.

"Do we proceed? If there is any resistance in there, they will be alerted to our prescence now!"

"We NEVER abort the mission! You got that?"

The teams minus one unfortunate Black Guard, made there way to the base, they than Immdeately spilt off, too prevent a crowd from running through everywhere. They made there way past barracks, buldings and mess halls, until they came to the adminisitration building.

"Ok, Tillema. Open the door!" Whispered a team leader, and a man came forward, and entered some strange looking electronic device into an obviously new Computer-Controlled access point, while the rest of the men pointed there weapons in all different directions, monitoring the enviroment, Tillema, made some beeps with the device, finally there was a green light.

"Ok! All teams move in!" Whispered a Team Leader. And the men scrambled into the building.

"All right, keep an eye out, that was too easy, our next step: Access the room that his left leg is being held in through an Security-Monitored Elevator. The room can be accessed through only the one shaft., and if a single wrong code, incorrect Identification, in inputted, the Elevator will shut down, being automatically welded to the walls, and than a countdown for an explosion to destroy the room and elevator will begin."

"Well, do we have the ID or codes for the computer?"

"No. Hartman couldnt get them."

"Then....what?"

"We intentionally shut down the elevator, blow the floor, rappel down, break in, grab the leg, and leave, letting the explosion destroy any evidence that we were here."

The other Team Leader blinked.

"Are you fucking crazy?" he asked very matter-of-factly. "If we dont get out in time, the leg will be destroyed, and the mission will be a failure!"

"Believe me, we've been over it a million times, this is the only way."

He sighed.

"All right, lets do this."

{Posted by Copiosa Scotia}

Bolton shrugged, then followed the Stalkers down into the depths of the cathedral. Behind her, without a word, the rest of the squad fell into position. Just behind her was Reiner, looking right, then Mead, looking left. Machine gunner Marek Stastny, by far the largest of the eight, scanned the ceiling, and O'Brien watched the floor. Further back, covering the back left and back right respectively, were Ingram and Daszkowski, and Lee Kang, walking backwards, brought up the rear. We may be up against a stronger, quicker enemy, Reiner thought, but they're sure as heck not going to sneak up on us.

"Hey," O'Brien whispered to Ingram. "What do you think the 'R' stands for?"

"What?" Ingram asked, not taking his eyes off his assigned arc, though it was currently nothing more than a tunnel wall.

"R. Hartman. What do you think his first name is?"

"Shoot, I don't know." Ingram shook his head impatiently. "As far as I'm concerned, the 'R' stands for 'Right now you'd better pay attention to where you are, or we'll all be dead'." He heard a grunt, but O'Brien said no more.

The group stopped as they came to the intersection of two tunnels. The Stalkers that had led them down were nowhere to be seen.

"Great," Bolt said. "Where to now, Chief?"

Reiner consulted his map. "Looks like a right. At any rate, we should enter a large circular chamber after going a hundred yards or so. If we don't, we'll know we've gone the wrong way. Drop a flare by the tunnel we just came out of." He traced a line on the map with his finger. "We're getting close, squad. Stay alert, Rayne won't have left this place unguarded."


Hartman's phone went off, and he reached inside his pocket and picked it up. On the caller ID, it said "URGENT", and Hartman knew that when this number called him, the news wouldn't be good. Yes, what is it? Hartman said. You are not going to believe this AT ALL. One of your teams was spotted, and Rayne has been alerted! She has already left Melkor Unchained and will be here very fucking soon man. You need to get Damien alive and kicking immediatly. The phone call disconnected, and Hartman stood with a look of disbelief on his face. He turned to the priest and the Stalkers, and in a grim tone, uttered. I have very bad news...Rayne has found out, and she's on her way here along with her Strikers. Looks like we failed. The priest bit his lower lip and looked down. He thought long and hard, then in almost a whisper, he spoke. I can continue without the rest of Damien's parts. We have the most important ones, his blood, his head, and his torso. Although I am a very well trained individual, there is 1 task that is almost inpossible that could very well bring Damien back whole. It would involve me sacrificing my own life, and by channeling all my energies, when I pass across the realms, I can hold the fabric open long enough to pull Damien through. Normally, his spirit would be channeled through an alternate realm. These realms are very different, as the fabric of the stronger realm, called the God's realm. This is our only chance, and I am one of the only priests of my kind left in existance. We must move now, or we may never have this chance again. I need you to root through these corpses and find me parts that are proportional to Damien's. Go now!

The Stalkers did as they were told, and they began rooting through the decayed corpses of 1,000 men, brekaing off parts that would suffice. The priest opened his book, and began chanting.


******************

At the cathedral

One Stalker got word over the radio of what was happening, and he immediatly paused. A slight gust blew up towards him, and he shouted. Abort! Abort! Mission has been compromised! No longer than a half second after he said this, a squish sounds was heard, and slowly his face slid apart diagonally. The remaining Stalkers opened fire and began their retreat. Get out of here now!

Piece after piece was gathered, and as carefully as they could, they placed them on the alter and lined them up. The priest was semi-satisfied with the replacements, and when the stalkers were finished, the priest began readying himself for his task ahead. Great Gods above, I thank you for your blessings. While we mortals do not dare question your wisdom and your great plan, we must defy you in this hour...our hour of need. You have in your possession a special flame, and that flame is needed to right the many wrongs that have emerged. We must steal this flame from you, but I will repay you with my own soul. I will cast myself into Oblivion in exchange for the soul of Damien Dreadfire. And with that, the priest rammed a dagger into his chest, exhaling hard as he dropped to his knees.

There was a great flash of light, and the room grew dark. The priest could no longer feel the pain as he watched the Stalkers fade into the shadows of the Earth Realm as it passed him by. He began walking towards the light, and the closer he came, the brighter it was. The priest stopped, and looked behind him at the darkness that was the Earth Realm. He then turned and looked into the light, and with all his might, he screamed DAMIEN!!!!!! DAMIEN!!!! The priest extended one hand towards the shadow and one hand towards the light that was pulling him in. He held on as tight as he could as he looked into the light, hoping Dreadfire heard him.

Damien awoke from his slumber as he heard his name. He knew not where this voice came from, but he began moving towards it. Nothing but light surrounded him on the Other Side, except for a distant shadow. Having never seen this shadow before on the Other Side, Damien moved towards it with curiosity as he heard his name again. What devilry is this that a shadow should appear in the light? Damien said aloud. Teh priest was struggling to keep from being sucked into the light, and in a scream he shouted Damien! Blood and Fire calls to you again! Your people are in need, and the Dread Fires are burning! Step towards me Damien, there is not much time! Damien doubted the accuracy of what this being was saying, for he had passed on and cared not for the troubles of mortals. As he went to turn the priest shouted again. Damien, Rayne has toppled your Empire, and now has thrown your people into despair! You must rise again before it is too late! Damien stopped dead in his tracks. He had a flashback to that night in ULE City. Rayne drawing the gun and firing.....walking miles towards the hospital and collapsing....the hospital....the funeral....and Rayne smirking. A scowl crossed Damien's face, and a great fire began to burn inside him that had not burned for some time.

The Gods were not ignorant to this, and they spoke to Damien. Damien, you cannot go back, for your place is here. You have no need to go back, for your business is finished. This is the will of Us. Without turning Damien shouted with great anger. Too long have I been a slave to your Plan. Too long have I denyed to obvious. Too long have I been cheated out fo what is rightfully mine, and I will not see my work be undone. My business is yet unfinished, and I defy your "Plan". With a great leap, Damien flew towards the shadow, reaching inside for the being that awaited him. The priest grabbed Damien's had, and with all his might pulled. The Gods also pulled at Damien, trying to keep him in the Other Side. The priest's strength was fading, and he began reciting a chant in the forbidden tounges of the Heathn Gods. Across both realms, a great rumbling began, and in one final act, the priest's soul detonated.

********************************************


The Stalkers watched the dead body of the priest, and the mish-mash body of Dreadfire. Per the priest's orders, the blood of Damien was poured over the severed parts and into the mouth. After his blood was spent, a white sheet was placed over him, and they waited. A great tremble made the stone walls shudder, and the sheet stirred. Suddenly, Damien sat up slightly, his back arched and his head thrown back. A great roar came from the mouth of Dreadfire and the sheet thrashed and stirred. Then slowly he laid back down, the sheet still ontop of his body. The scream finished echoing throughout the Halls, and the Stalkers stood motionless, their heart's barely beating.

Rayne had arrived back in ULE City quickly, for Damien's SR-71A2 was extremely fast. M'Lady, the intruders are inside the Halls of the Dead. Also, the library was broken into be Stalkers, for they left alot of their dead. Most of the other locations are still secure, but the intruders remain inside the Halls. Rayne was both pissed and worried at the same time, and she said to her assistance, Fine, get me over there. I will deal with them myself. A short drive followed, and Rayne stepped out of her black limo, and several armed Strikers awaited her. M'Lady, we are ready when you are. Rayne nodded, and all at once they entered, Rayne leading the way. The Stalkers and Hartman still starred at the sheet, but it did not stir. Hartman looked down, a tear forming in the corner of his eye. A click sounds broke the silence, and in a instant the Stalkers were surrounded by Strikers, their weapons drawn. A tapping sound came down the halls, and Hartman peered into the darkness. Rayne stepped forth, her War Blades drawn. So, Minister, treason is your business today? Hartman did not fear Rayne, and he defiantly snapped No Rayne, I do not commit treason. If anything, I am the only thing pure left in this damn country! Rayne laughed loudly, and stepped forward again. Drop your weapons or Hartman dies. Rayne barked to the Stalkers. They complied, for in their loyalty they could not risk Hartman's death. I should have disposed of you a very long time ago, heathen! Rayne raised her War Blades high, and prepared to strike Hartman down.

Halt! A might voice called out. Everyone looked around for the source of this voice, but they saw nothing. So we meet again, Rayne Xolantra. The voice bellowed again as the sheet stirred. The sheet slowly slipped off as the 7 foot warlord stood tall once again, his body restored and unscarred. The priest was successful, and through his sacrifice, Damien was whole regardless of the replacement parts. I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and fiery anger, for you have poisoned my well. You have bastardized my anem, my legacy, and my country. No more shall my people suffer under your tyranny Rayne The world shall be rid of you now. The warlord stumbled forward towards Rayne, and the Potentate Striker laughed. You are in no condition for battle, "Dreadfire" She said mockingly. No, but I am Yet another voice said.

http://207.44.246.95/85/131/upload/p185.jpg

With his hat covering his face, The One Who Shall Remain Unnamed materialized from the shadows, and instantly Rayne's Strikers were turned to dust, their bodies fading into ash. She stood in horror as the figure spoke to her. In an explosion, the Dread Fires have been rekindled! Their fury knows no limits, and you shall now be consumed by their fire. May it's cleansing burn purge you from this life forever! The figure drew a mighty sword and stepped towards Rayne. No. Damien said. She shall not die by your hands, o great Death Dealer, but by The Creatures Of The Night. Cast this heathen bitch into the Tomb of the Mutilated. She will be most welcome there, and she shall suffer eternal torment at thier hands. The One Who Shall Remain Unnamed glanced at Rayne, and in a wink blew her backwards at great speed. The cellar doors blew open, and the Potentate Striker was cast down inside them. Her scream was the last thing they heard. Hartman, the Stalkers, and The One bowed to Damien in great respect For the Flame had returned!


*************************************

Open transmission to all naitons

The picture on the T.V's faded, and nothing but blackness engulfed the screen. What once was lost has been born again from the ashes of those slain. The sick song of warm blood and cold steel has sung to me in the shadows of the netherworld, and it's call has awakened me from my slumber. Yes my friends, the fires that once burned the world have been re-ignited...the Dread Fires rage yet again. The Flame Has Returned!

A single image popped into the screen for a few seconds, then faded.

http://207.44.246.95/40/9/upload/p3403.jpg

With Damien raised from the grave, he wasted no time in alerting the world and reclaiming his throne.


In an open communication to the world, the now restored Damien Dreadfire will give his first major speech to the world since his return. We will now take you to the Great Hall in ULE City.

The picture fades up, and starring at the camera is the face of Damien.

http://207.44.246.95/40/9/upload/p3403.jpg

Good afternoon peoples of the world, The Dread Fires have arisen yet again! I have returned to assume my mantle from Rayne Xolantra, an overly brutal and heartless wench who has tarnished the great name of Automagfreek. She has abused my people and scarred them, and that I will never forget. She turned the back of AMF towards our friends across the globe in an attempt to cut herself out of thw world's eye.....so she could plot her next scheme.

Rayne's experiments with AMF Sentinels (Project: Black Storm) were semi-successful, and through Project: Red Haze, she created a highly engineered super soldier, named the Striker. These beings are very unstable, and capable of things that have never been seen before by anyone. Since the fall of Rayne, my associate here and his people are rounding up and terminaing these creatures for the good of everyone.

Damien motioned to his side at a man in a long coat, and a hat covered his face. He said not a word nor made any motion.

http://207.44.246.95/85/131/upload/p185.jpg

As we speak, the Death Dealers are rounding up these Strikers and disposing of them so that their genetic menace cannot harm another living being. And as of now, Project: Black Storm is being re-opened. Since Rayne took control of AMF, she ordered the executions of 500,000 Sentinels and Sentinel Stalkers. This is a great tragedy, but in time all of Rayne's inflicted wounds will heal.

Since I've returned, I cannot recall what happened just my "passing" shall we say, but I will say that I am in great condition. You may not know this, but in my younger days, I was a genetic lab rat. Yes I am the first Sentinel, and I suffered greatly in the name of progress. Before my passing, certain chemicals that were used for testing drove me near mad. Since I've returned, these chemicals are no more, and I finally see clear yet again.

In closing, I say this: The Flame Has Returned! A New Dawn has arisen in Automagfreek, and the dark days of Rayne have passed. May good fortune lie ahead for you all.

http://67.18.37.14/40/9/upload/p3403.jpg
---Damien Dreadfire---
-Supreme Warlord of AMF-

Too bad there is no early history in this... Nothing about good old chellis and AMF taking out Perrier...

Alas, this is where the main bulk of the story comes to an end. The story before and after what is posted is incomplete and full of holes. Threads were lost and and forgotten due to purges, and what I posted together here is all that remains. There are some threads after this sequence that still exist, but with all the gaps it would be too hard to piece the rest of the story together.

Bump

Another Bump for the night.

ARG! So much reading to do! Curse you and your storylines! :headbang:

But seriously, that's some good shit.

TAG for unrelentless coolness.

Does Damien have a sense of humor? Or does he just find sadistic killing funny?

ARG! So much reading to do! Curse you and your storylines! :headbang:

But seriously, that's some good shit.


*bows respectfully*

Many thanks.

when did teh Damien assassination occur? before me I know

End of October, beginning of November.

End of October, beginning of November.
I'm curious to see the before Damien era as I know nothing about it and am curious

Sadly, all of those threads were lost....

But,

AMF was run by President Thomas Kaye.

AMF was a democracy that strongly opposed GDODAD. Basically, we were the uber do-gooder, adn we fought 2 World Wars on the side of good.

AMF was a huge warmonger under Kaye. I think I fought like 10 wars when he was my leader, yet everybody loved him.

Seeing you makes me wanna turn my nation to a dictatorship. You know a right-wing communist dictatorship, ya I know an oxymoron. Ah, imagine the RP possibilities.

Seeing you makes me wanna turn my nation to a dictatorship.

OOC: Why thank you. ;)

Surprisingly, my nation is more of a passive dictatorship. My leader treats his people very well, and we don't stick our noses into business that does not affect us (naturally our allies and our interests abroad would indeed affect us). However, if someone does.....well...we've all seen the consequences.

I'm trying to shift away from war RP into some other area's, but the success of that experiement is currently lacking. Seems alot of folks like the ole' "pillage and burn, blood and fire" stuff, so I might have to stick to my guns.

:mp5:
:sniper:

Well if you want something different, go visit my nation, I think it's unique.

Considering the President knows how to use a Rapier, every citizen is armed to the teeth, the Priests know martial arts, and 1/3 of the population are nudists.

aka Hilarity will insue :p

Eh, what the hell.

I bumpeth thee.

I remember those good old days, yes I do. the whole "AMF in space!!" thing was completely lost.

*sigh*

I remember those good old days, yes I do. the whole "AMF in space!!" thing was completely lost.

*sigh*

OOC: Yeah, I remember that. I'm actually kind of glad it happened, because since the I've never looked back. I'm much happier now on NS than I've ever been, and resurrecting Damien in January was the best move I made. Killing him off was a mistake, and after I did it I was miserable because I enjoyed playing the character so much.

Ah well, 'tis all ancient history now.

OOC: A bump for a classic piece. I will be adding more material off and on in the next month or two.

OOC: A bump for a classic piece. I will be adding more material off and on in the next month or two.
OOC: I was just looking back and reading it last night. This is the most amazing thread ever written in NS history. I hope you can get together with some of your early allies and piece together the before Damien era and the Dec 2003-March 2004 era (just so I can learn a little bit more about AMF before my nation existed).

I also am fascinated with the Forbidden Isle and it's origins

OOC: Wow...I completely forgot it's been well over a year since I introduced the character of Damien.

As far as the pre Damien years go, it's going to be very hard to piece together what happened, because all of the threads have been long since purged. The AMF Civil War thread still exists, but due to the move to Jolt alot of the VB code got messed up so it looks like jibberish everytime there's a bolded or italicized word.

I'll do what I can to come up with a comprehensive history though.

From what ive seen AMF posts are best when they are focused on character interaction and detail rather than battle above the tiniest of scales. I really enjoyed the "As the flames purify"... though I did lose it halfway through. That said, "love lost.." is pretty good (understatement alert) so far. I dont know if its deliberate but I noticed a reference to a top quality metalcore act in the title of that one.

OOC: Very good, I'm glad someone caught that.

You can tell if a thread of mine is going to be very important if you can spot a metalcore reference in the title.

Damn, now my secret is out!

Im waiting for "The Art of Balance" now!

Id been carrying that suspicion for ages. I think the first thing I noticed (other than your post quality) was that you obviously liked that kind of thing. The whole RATM thing as your favourate put down etc....

Im waiting for "The Art of Balance" now!

Id been carrying that suspicion for ages. I think the first thing I noticed (other than your post quality) was that you obviously liked that kind of thing. The whole RATM thing as your favourate put down etc....


LOL, damn you're observant!

Im one of those people who either talks non stop or is listening and observing very carefully. If people did the same with me I wouldnt have to talk so much!

I managed to guess things about one person's past by the way she dressed last week! And regularly remember things about people that they nearly forgot. Of course remembering my lecture on Thursday morning is a lot harder....

*suddenly realises how "Boston Metalcore" "as the flames purify is*

Maybe its not a lyric, but its very familiar sounding now Im looking for such things.

OOC: haha the flagship "mouth for war" hehe I spotted that. I suppose it was that or "another level"...

And your motto used to be a dimmu lyric. Youve made some outlandish claims, which have been tentirely true, about your nation, but it doesnt stop people looking them up occasionally to see how true. And thinking "that motto looks familiar". Only twigged when I dug that album out (DCA) for the first time in 6 months the other day.

Bump

Automagfreek has become such a commenly said name on NationStates?
since when? I need to brush up on Nationstates history.

Methinks this thread should be required reading (with a test afterwards) for anyone who wants to invade AMF, or start a war with AMF, or cause you a general headache in any way.

That would remove, oh, 40% of the tweebs.

Another Bump.