Automagfreek
01-08-2004, 04:48
OOC: You asked for it Allanea, here it is. There's no backing out now, because it's common knowledge that TFI is nothing more than a demon infested forest. Enjoy.
A little background (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=342301)
The Butcher emerges (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=333907)
The Allaneans landed on The Forbidden Isle thinking that they had won a new territory, but having been ignorant to the brutal history of Automagfreek, they knew not what the dusky evening would hold for them. Naturally they had set up a crude base camp of sorts, expecting the massive and dense forests around them to be infested with Sentinels ready to drive them back to the seas.
But for 5 hours not a gunshot was heard, and naturally the Allaneans began to become suspicious. The sun was nearly dead on the horizon, and the moon had been slowly taking over the darkening skies. Another few hours passed, but the perimeter was silent, save for the occassional gust of wind that seemed to come all the more frequently. As midnight approached the winds began to pick up, and the Allanean garrison noticed that their instruments were acting up. Radios fell silent, compasses began spinning madly, and computers mysteriously shut down.
The winds picked up again, and in the distant trees the sounds of cracking branches and crunching leaves put the Allanean soldiers on their guard. They attempted to switch to their night vision systems (naturally, because it's night), but they would not turn on, no would their flashlights. The intruders were without power, and surrounded by the dark and forboding trees of The Forbidden Isle. The island was called "The Forbidden Isle" for a reason. In the near 5,000 years since the island was discovered, not one person that ventured into it's forests ever returned. Even the mighty Sentinels and Death Dealers dared not tread onto it's cursed soil, for over the course of those 5,000 years, many ghastly and deadly things would be set free onto the island.
The winds died out suddenly, and nothing but silence could be heard. In the distant trees the Allaneans could see small traces of a figure garbed in flowing white robes, dashing throughout the vegetation. He appeared in a flash, then vanished into thin air, only to appear several hundred yards away. As the spectral figure dashed about the trees, the ground began to shake and tremor violently. As the Earth split open, the stench of severe decay filled the air, and a swarm of flies engulfed the area. Traces of light came up from the chasm, and the Allaneans stood around it with their weapons drawn.
They peered down into the endless pit and noticed a figure was quickly ascending to the top. They backed off and prepared to open fire, but the stench of decay increased a thousand fold as The Butcher's figure began breaking the surface of the Earth and elevating into the night air. His eyes were glazed over and hardened from rot, and as he glared wickedly at his prey he opened his mouth wide and laughed. A flowing sea of maggots spilled from his gaping maw and landed with a squish on the ground, and a river of fresh blood ran like a river from the very pores of his skin. The putrid stench nearly turned the air green, and the Allaneans reeled in terror and screamed horrors. The Butcher held a long and wide knife in his right hand, and in his left hand he held a lengthy bit of chain attacked to a meathook. The Butcher roared loudly, so loudly that the ear drums of the Allanean soldiers ruptured and sent a spray of blood into the air.
As the troops looked at The Butcher in pure terror, other figures presented themselves from the treeline, some mamed and missing body parts. They moaned and stirred, moving closer to the cowering soldiers with increasing spiritual energy. Wildly they opened fire into the sea of ghosts and demons that approached them, but alas it was all in vain. In one swift motion The Butcher decended into their ranks, his knife cleaving flesh and his hook spinning above his head. Screams filled the night air and were absorbed into the leaves of the motionless trees. The congregation of spirits moved in closer and this time faster, taking hold of the Allanean soldiers and dragging them into the dirt, kicking and screaming. The Butcher moved swiftly and fiercely through the crowd and behind him a path of severed heads and spilled entrails grew, and the air grew heavy with the mists of blood. The Butcher made his final run around the soldiers, coated in gore and bodily fluids from the mutilated pile of Allaneans. Those unfortunate enough to still be alive found themselves pounced upon and hacked, literally, into ribbons. A few soldiers tried to escape and ran off into the trees, but alas even they had an appetite. The vegetation stirred and came to life, trampling the cowering men and dragging them underground by their powerful roots. It seemed as if the whole island was alive with evil, and on this night the Earth did feast.
Hours later, not a single trace of the Allanean presense could be seen. The ground was one again, and not so much as a bullet casing lay in the grass. The souls of the intruders had been taking into the Underworld, where demons more horrifying than would The Butcher torture and torment them for all eternity. They had joined the ranks of thousands of Freek pilgrims and outsiders that had dared to venture onto The Forbidden Isle, and the filth that dwelled in the burning pits of the Underworld were content with their new guests.
*****
The One Who Shall Remain trembled as the sun came up, and as it did he stepped onto the porch of the Great Hall. The sky was an eerie crimson and the sun was blood red as it rose above the skyline and into the sky. He watched as it slowly began turning color and returning to it's normal state. Being not of this world, The One knew that something had happened last night, something that caused great disruption between the realms of the living and the dead.
A little background (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=342301)
The Butcher emerges (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=333907)
The Allaneans landed on The Forbidden Isle thinking that they had won a new territory, but having been ignorant to the brutal history of Automagfreek, they knew not what the dusky evening would hold for them. Naturally they had set up a crude base camp of sorts, expecting the massive and dense forests around them to be infested with Sentinels ready to drive them back to the seas.
But for 5 hours not a gunshot was heard, and naturally the Allaneans began to become suspicious. The sun was nearly dead on the horizon, and the moon had been slowly taking over the darkening skies. Another few hours passed, but the perimeter was silent, save for the occassional gust of wind that seemed to come all the more frequently. As midnight approached the winds began to pick up, and the Allanean garrison noticed that their instruments were acting up. Radios fell silent, compasses began spinning madly, and computers mysteriously shut down.
The winds picked up again, and in the distant trees the sounds of cracking branches and crunching leaves put the Allanean soldiers on their guard. They attempted to switch to their night vision systems (naturally, because it's night), but they would not turn on, no would their flashlights. The intruders were without power, and surrounded by the dark and forboding trees of The Forbidden Isle. The island was called "The Forbidden Isle" for a reason. In the near 5,000 years since the island was discovered, not one person that ventured into it's forests ever returned. Even the mighty Sentinels and Death Dealers dared not tread onto it's cursed soil, for over the course of those 5,000 years, many ghastly and deadly things would be set free onto the island.
The winds died out suddenly, and nothing but silence could be heard. In the distant trees the Allaneans could see small traces of a figure garbed in flowing white robes, dashing throughout the vegetation. He appeared in a flash, then vanished into thin air, only to appear several hundred yards away. As the spectral figure dashed about the trees, the ground began to shake and tremor violently. As the Earth split open, the stench of severe decay filled the air, and a swarm of flies engulfed the area. Traces of light came up from the chasm, and the Allaneans stood around it with their weapons drawn.
They peered down into the endless pit and noticed a figure was quickly ascending to the top. They backed off and prepared to open fire, but the stench of decay increased a thousand fold as The Butcher's figure began breaking the surface of the Earth and elevating into the night air. His eyes were glazed over and hardened from rot, and as he glared wickedly at his prey he opened his mouth wide and laughed. A flowing sea of maggots spilled from his gaping maw and landed with a squish on the ground, and a river of fresh blood ran like a river from the very pores of his skin. The putrid stench nearly turned the air green, and the Allaneans reeled in terror and screamed horrors. The Butcher held a long and wide knife in his right hand, and in his left hand he held a lengthy bit of chain attacked to a meathook. The Butcher roared loudly, so loudly that the ear drums of the Allanean soldiers ruptured and sent a spray of blood into the air.
As the troops looked at The Butcher in pure terror, other figures presented themselves from the treeline, some mamed and missing body parts. They moaned and stirred, moving closer to the cowering soldiers with increasing spiritual energy. Wildly they opened fire into the sea of ghosts and demons that approached them, but alas it was all in vain. In one swift motion The Butcher decended into their ranks, his knife cleaving flesh and his hook spinning above his head. Screams filled the night air and were absorbed into the leaves of the motionless trees. The congregation of spirits moved in closer and this time faster, taking hold of the Allanean soldiers and dragging them into the dirt, kicking and screaming. The Butcher moved swiftly and fiercely through the crowd and behind him a path of severed heads and spilled entrails grew, and the air grew heavy with the mists of blood. The Butcher made his final run around the soldiers, coated in gore and bodily fluids from the mutilated pile of Allaneans. Those unfortunate enough to still be alive found themselves pounced upon and hacked, literally, into ribbons. A few soldiers tried to escape and ran off into the trees, but alas even they had an appetite. The vegetation stirred and came to life, trampling the cowering men and dragging them underground by their powerful roots. It seemed as if the whole island was alive with evil, and on this night the Earth did feast.
Hours later, not a single trace of the Allanean presense could be seen. The ground was one again, and not so much as a bullet casing lay in the grass. The souls of the intruders had been taking into the Underworld, where demons more horrifying than would The Butcher torture and torment them for all eternity. They had joined the ranks of thousands of Freek pilgrims and outsiders that had dared to venture onto The Forbidden Isle, and the filth that dwelled in the burning pits of the Underworld were content with their new guests.
*****
The One Who Shall Remain trembled as the sun came up, and as it did he stepped onto the porch of the Great Hall. The sky was an eerie crimson and the sun was blood red as it rose above the skyline and into the sky. He watched as it slowly began turning color and returning to it's normal state. Being not of this world, The One knew that something had happened last night, something that caused great disruption between the realms of the living and the dead.