Automagfreek
12-12-2004, 08:19
OOC: This is for myself, since fighting wars is pissing me off. Some segements taken from the 'A macabre frenzy unleashed' thread, because it did not turn out the way I had planned on. If you want to get in on this and you're not someone I usually RP with, shoot me a TM. I'd appreciate it if this thread was not clogged up with a wad of bullshit, and 'yes', this is a fantasy RP.
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The thin veil that seperates the Realms of the living and the dead had been torn ever so slighty in the recent days, and through the resulting hole came great spiritual turbulence. The fires that burned in the Tomb of the Mutilated had begun to seep out from the cracks in the large stone that cover the top to it's opening. High in the ULE Mountains a once dormant volcano named Mt. Brimstone erupted in hellish fury, throwing lava and ash into the cold air and sending it's feiry load down the mountainside. All across Automagfreek, reports of strange and unexplainable happens began to occur. Stories of animals gone mad, foaming at the mouth in an instant and attacking anything within eyeshot. Tales of the dead rising from their graves and walking the quiet streets of Racine. Rumors of a shadow as black as sack cloth in the east and a plume of mysterious smoke from the Forbidden Isle.
The Enclave of Farseers were not blind to these events, in fact they had fled just days before these mysterious events began to unfold. And they were not alone, numerous Freeks had fled portions of the major cities and sought refuge in the vast countryside. Word began spreading as quickly as wildfire that the Dead had risen and numerous unworldly creatures now roamed through the night fog and searched for warm flesh. Reports also circulated that in the rural area of Nuellsville, a church had been turned upside down....literally. Nearly fifty feet of the steeple had been submerged in earth, and the basement was perfectly removed from the ground. That was not the truely unusual part......everything inside was as it should be. The curtains hung the same way they did as when the church was right side up, and various items such as books and papers still sat on the same surface. Nothing had fallen...in fact even the flames on the candles were unchanged.
The walls inside the Halls of the Dead began pouring blood, causing the Sentinel executioners that once lived down inside to flee. Thousands of gallons seeped from the stone itself and ran down the hallways, coating the feet of the skeletal corpses that lined the walls. The large stone doors that shut the Halls off from the rest of the world could not hold back the flood of gore, and literally through the rock itself the blood flowed out into the grass and into the streets. Across the countryside the terror continued to intensify, with sighting of farms bursting into flames and it's inhabitants nailed to upside down crosses in random fields.
Several logical explanations were reached by Lord Dreadfire's personal staff, as the Warlord was consumed in the affairs of Operation: Brimstone. One conclusion was that transcendental energy from either the Tomb of the Mutilated (thought to be a direct path to Hell itself) or the Vault of Souls had built up to the point that it had released itself in a violent manner. Another conclusion was that the Forbidden Isle was in some sort of commotion. Nothing was known about the Forbidden Isle, for ever single human being that had ventured there had never returned. A tall pillar of black smoke had risen from the Isle since the supernatural events started, and the source of the smoke was not known. Freek satellites could not see through the clouds that always hung over the island, and no scientific explanation for the smoke could be reached. From the sea it seemed that the plume was coming from the ground itself, for the trees did not appear to be ablaze...strange indeed. From out at sea, the AMF destroyer Caravan surveyed the smoke cloud from the Forbidden Isle and began assembling a team to investigate.
The Forbidden Isle. Population: 0.
It had been this way for ages, ever since the dark days of old when the 5 great tribes of Automagfreek made war on eachother for control of the lands. The island was a small forest engufed island sitting south just of the main land, to the southeast to be exact. History and legend alike tell tales of mighty expeditionary forces landing on the island in order to unlock it's mysteries, but that is where the story ends. Those that ventured onto that cursed rock never returned home, and after some 5,000 years it was finally time to solve this puzzle once and for all. At least that is what people were pondering, nobody actually had the balls to go there and see for themselves until this day.
The One Who Shall Remain Unnamed, servant and protectorate of Lord Dreadfire and the Excessively Armed Empire has been left in charge of discovering the secrets that this land kept, for no being that has ventured off has been able to tell his tale. Seeing as The One was of Death Dealer origin, he would fare a better chance than any normal living man. But alas men is what he needed, for mankind was an incredible race, capable of many great and ingenious things. The One decided that he needed a team of extraordinary people to accompany him and his Death Dealers on this journey, for each human created in in the world had special talents. On board the Caravan were several of Automagfreek's top scientists and shamans and a small armed guard for protection, and The One would be joining them shortly. Weapons were useless where they were headed.
The blood trail that flowed from the Halls had ceased and mysteriously evaporated as the essence of The One materialized inside. Oddly enough nothing had been tainted by the massive river of gore, in fact nothing even smelled of blood in the slightest. The One knew that something was amiss, and he proceeded to throw open the door to the Tomb of the Mutilated and summon forth his mightiest Death Dealers. The Tomb was the birthplace of the Death Dealers, for when Lord Damien's soul returned to the world of the living the bowles of the Earth spat forth a great abomination. This abomination would be the vengeful striking hammer of Lord Damien, for their souls and fates were tied together in spiritual energy. The Tomb was a simple pit with a mighty stone sealing it's top, and The One used it as a table for his various maps and tools to explain to his Death Dealers the situation at hand.
The torches in The Halls crackled and burned bright, turning the air foul with the stench of decay. The thousands of corpses stacked down the mile long hallway always stunk no matter how much time had passed, and the moisture that occassionally crept in only added to that putrid odor. But regardless, the Death Dealers stood in a semi circle around their leader. Their cold red eyes were fixated on The One and unblinking as they awaited their orders. The One turned around and faced his men, a long brim hat shrouding his face as it always did. Brothers, we embark on a voyage that no mortal man could ever embark on. Many have tried, and many have failed to return to their homes. We are Dealers of Death, and we shall discover what evils dwell on The Forbidden Isle, and we will then capture that essence and bring it back to Lord Dreadfire. It will be a weapon most mighty or a curse most evil, but this is something we must discover for ourselves, for we are doomed either way. Gather your swords and make ready to discover what creatures reside in a land not of our own. We have been charged with the task of discovering the source of this evil energy and harnessing it in any way possible.
The Death Dealers complied, gathering their various gear and preparing to depart the Halls. The drips of water that always interrupted the silence were drowned out by the marching of footsteps. The Death Dealters marched in formation down the dank corridors, their red eyes burning brightly in the darkness. The One knew that he would face a specter that he helped free, a demon known as The Butcher. The foul creature's very presence made The One uncomfortable, and if The Butcher thought to cross his path he would most definatly strike him down with his shining sword. But The One knew that The Butcher was bound to serve Lord Damien, and that thought brought him limited comfort.
Although The One was an immortal and he knew that he stood a much better chance at this than flesh, the talents of humans were too valuable to pass up. He would most definatly have to open and utilize his Third Eye to see what dangers lay ahead of him, but regardless of peril he would press on and end the suffering that had been inflicted on his lands.
+++++++++++++
The thin veil that seperates the Realms of the living and the dead had been torn ever so slighty in the recent days, and through the resulting hole came great spiritual turbulence. The fires that burned in the Tomb of the Mutilated had begun to seep out from the cracks in the large stone that cover the top to it's opening. High in the ULE Mountains a once dormant volcano named Mt. Brimstone erupted in hellish fury, throwing lava and ash into the cold air and sending it's feiry load down the mountainside. All across Automagfreek, reports of strange and unexplainable happens began to occur. Stories of animals gone mad, foaming at the mouth in an instant and attacking anything within eyeshot. Tales of the dead rising from their graves and walking the quiet streets of Racine. Rumors of a shadow as black as sack cloth in the east and a plume of mysterious smoke from the Forbidden Isle.
The Enclave of Farseers were not blind to these events, in fact they had fled just days before these mysterious events began to unfold. And they were not alone, numerous Freeks had fled portions of the major cities and sought refuge in the vast countryside. Word began spreading as quickly as wildfire that the Dead had risen and numerous unworldly creatures now roamed through the night fog and searched for warm flesh. Reports also circulated that in the rural area of Nuellsville, a church had been turned upside down....literally. Nearly fifty feet of the steeple had been submerged in earth, and the basement was perfectly removed from the ground. That was not the truely unusual part......everything inside was as it should be. The curtains hung the same way they did as when the church was right side up, and various items such as books and papers still sat on the same surface. Nothing had fallen...in fact even the flames on the candles were unchanged.
The walls inside the Halls of the Dead began pouring blood, causing the Sentinel executioners that once lived down inside to flee. Thousands of gallons seeped from the stone itself and ran down the hallways, coating the feet of the skeletal corpses that lined the walls. The large stone doors that shut the Halls off from the rest of the world could not hold back the flood of gore, and literally through the rock itself the blood flowed out into the grass and into the streets. Across the countryside the terror continued to intensify, with sighting of farms bursting into flames and it's inhabitants nailed to upside down crosses in random fields.
Several logical explanations were reached by Lord Dreadfire's personal staff, as the Warlord was consumed in the affairs of Operation: Brimstone. One conclusion was that transcendental energy from either the Tomb of the Mutilated (thought to be a direct path to Hell itself) or the Vault of Souls had built up to the point that it had released itself in a violent manner. Another conclusion was that the Forbidden Isle was in some sort of commotion. Nothing was known about the Forbidden Isle, for ever single human being that had ventured there had never returned. A tall pillar of black smoke had risen from the Isle since the supernatural events started, and the source of the smoke was not known. Freek satellites could not see through the clouds that always hung over the island, and no scientific explanation for the smoke could be reached. From the sea it seemed that the plume was coming from the ground itself, for the trees did not appear to be ablaze...strange indeed. From out at sea, the AMF destroyer Caravan surveyed the smoke cloud from the Forbidden Isle and began assembling a team to investigate.
The Forbidden Isle. Population: 0.
It had been this way for ages, ever since the dark days of old when the 5 great tribes of Automagfreek made war on eachother for control of the lands. The island was a small forest engufed island sitting south just of the main land, to the southeast to be exact. History and legend alike tell tales of mighty expeditionary forces landing on the island in order to unlock it's mysteries, but that is where the story ends. Those that ventured onto that cursed rock never returned home, and after some 5,000 years it was finally time to solve this puzzle once and for all. At least that is what people were pondering, nobody actually had the balls to go there and see for themselves until this day.
The One Who Shall Remain Unnamed, servant and protectorate of Lord Dreadfire and the Excessively Armed Empire has been left in charge of discovering the secrets that this land kept, for no being that has ventured off has been able to tell his tale. Seeing as The One was of Death Dealer origin, he would fare a better chance than any normal living man. But alas men is what he needed, for mankind was an incredible race, capable of many great and ingenious things. The One decided that he needed a team of extraordinary people to accompany him and his Death Dealers on this journey, for each human created in in the world had special talents. On board the Caravan were several of Automagfreek's top scientists and shamans and a small armed guard for protection, and The One would be joining them shortly. Weapons were useless where they were headed.
The blood trail that flowed from the Halls had ceased and mysteriously evaporated as the essence of The One materialized inside. Oddly enough nothing had been tainted by the massive river of gore, in fact nothing even smelled of blood in the slightest. The One knew that something was amiss, and he proceeded to throw open the door to the Tomb of the Mutilated and summon forth his mightiest Death Dealers. The Tomb was the birthplace of the Death Dealers, for when Lord Damien's soul returned to the world of the living the bowles of the Earth spat forth a great abomination. This abomination would be the vengeful striking hammer of Lord Damien, for their souls and fates were tied together in spiritual energy. The Tomb was a simple pit with a mighty stone sealing it's top, and The One used it as a table for his various maps and tools to explain to his Death Dealers the situation at hand.
The torches in The Halls crackled and burned bright, turning the air foul with the stench of decay. The thousands of corpses stacked down the mile long hallway always stunk no matter how much time had passed, and the moisture that occassionally crept in only added to that putrid odor. But regardless, the Death Dealers stood in a semi circle around their leader. Their cold red eyes were fixated on The One and unblinking as they awaited their orders. The One turned around and faced his men, a long brim hat shrouding his face as it always did. Brothers, we embark on a voyage that no mortal man could ever embark on. Many have tried, and many have failed to return to their homes. We are Dealers of Death, and we shall discover what evils dwell on The Forbidden Isle, and we will then capture that essence and bring it back to Lord Dreadfire. It will be a weapon most mighty or a curse most evil, but this is something we must discover for ourselves, for we are doomed either way. Gather your swords and make ready to discover what creatures reside in a land not of our own. We have been charged with the task of discovering the source of this evil energy and harnessing it in any way possible.
The Death Dealers complied, gathering their various gear and preparing to depart the Halls. The drips of water that always interrupted the silence were drowned out by the marching of footsteps. The Death Dealters marched in formation down the dank corridors, their red eyes burning brightly in the darkness. The One knew that he would face a specter that he helped free, a demon known as The Butcher. The foul creature's very presence made The One uncomfortable, and if The Butcher thought to cross his path he would most definatly strike him down with his shining sword. But The One knew that The Butcher was bound to serve Lord Damien, and that thought brought him limited comfort.
Although The One was an immortal and he knew that he stood a much better chance at this than flesh, the talents of humans were too valuable to pass up. He would most definatly have to open and utilize his Third Eye to see what dangers lay ahead of him, but regardless of peril he would press on and end the suffering that had been inflicted on his lands.