Spencertopia
07-02-2005, 11:33
For centuries upon their own, the people of Spencertopia had remained unknown toward those on the outside. And yet Hades, their leader too looked to the outside, remembering the times they had. Still, such a time had been rue, when their forces had been defeated at the hand of Damien Dreadfire of Automagfreek. Perhaps the world would not even know of the disaster had happened, since the defeat of Spencertopia had not been of the physical, but much, much more the emotional, mental, and spiritual. Lady Dakanen of Spencertopia had indeed been in love with Damien, although they had not met. And despite she already had given birth to Hades, the current lord of these lands, she continued to fantisize of a possible future. By a twist of fate, the future had come and told her of the downfall of Damien at the hands of a whore, and in a deepful sadness, Lady Dakanen had tragically taken her own life.
Sworn to vengence toward the whore, Hades always grew up with a vivid memory, the last of his own mother. He had been awaiting such a time as this, for today he would avenge her death in sadness, and today the mortal would meet with eternity. He could still remember...
... Mother, do not leave me. I swear if you do, I will avenge the whore who makes the downfall of Damien your lover. he had cried on that fateful night.
She had said nothing, but peacefully passed away at the hands of her own. Metaphysically of course, the whore of Automagfreek most certainly had murdered his mother, and today she ought to be killed. The earth would be scorched with fire and blood, and perhaps if successful, Damien would be returned at its helm. If unsuccessful, then the eternal bitch would remain as head, and the Strikers would continue their faithful policies. Indeed, they were blinded by a sense of superiority. And there was only one thing which could conquer, and that was death itself.
Hades stood upon his platform, watching as the burners were firing, preparing the great armies for battle and smiled to himself. Being of the underworld would give his nation at least some kind of advantage over a soldier in one on one combat. These soldiers, were of a new breed, and death had already been defeated. It could not come again. Not that they were immortal however, their only weakness being the slash from a silver blade. Its elemental properties would surge through their veins and chambers of blood, slowly, yet steadily poisening their bodies until death. It was an attack like this which would perhaps defeat a Seventh offense.
Screaming over the plains, Hades cried for his mother's vengance over these lands. Battle would soon begin in Automagfreek, not just for the spill of blood, or the glories of war, but for the enjoyment of fire and blood itself. This bitch would rue the day she stole glory from Damien Dreadfire, Supreme Warlord of the Freeks.
... How can you call yourself legitimate fool when you too have stolen the throne from someone most worthy? And how can you call yourself worthy when you lack the honor not just to be Damien's humble servant. You bitch will rue the day you rose to power for an eternity and beyond, and you will most definatly fall. Death comes knocking, and it comes knocking angry. No one can escape the icy grip of the hand of death, and only a deal with Satan can save you. There's only one problem. I am Satan.
These armies come for you woman, and soon they will be spilling your blood into the sea of eternal unforgiveness!
Sworn to vengence toward the whore, Hades always grew up with a vivid memory, the last of his own mother. He had been awaiting such a time as this, for today he would avenge her death in sadness, and today the mortal would meet with eternity. He could still remember...
... Mother, do not leave me. I swear if you do, I will avenge the whore who makes the downfall of Damien your lover. he had cried on that fateful night.
She had said nothing, but peacefully passed away at the hands of her own. Metaphysically of course, the whore of Automagfreek most certainly had murdered his mother, and today she ought to be killed. The earth would be scorched with fire and blood, and perhaps if successful, Damien would be returned at its helm. If unsuccessful, then the eternal bitch would remain as head, and the Strikers would continue their faithful policies. Indeed, they were blinded by a sense of superiority. And there was only one thing which could conquer, and that was death itself.
Hades stood upon his platform, watching as the burners were firing, preparing the great armies for battle and smiled to himself. Being of the underworld would give his nation at least some kind of advantage over a soldier in one on one combat. These soldiers, were of a new breed, and death had already been defeated. It could not come again. Not that they were immortal however, their only weakness being the slash from a silver blade. Its elemental properties would surge through their veins and chambers of blood, slowly, yet steadily poisening their bodies until death. It was an attack like this which would perhaps defeat a Seventh offense.
Screaming over the plains, Hades cried for his mother's vengance over these lands. Battle would soon begin in Automagfreek, not just for the spill of blood, or the glories of war, but for the enjoyment of fire and blood itself. This bitch would rue the day she stole glory from Damien Dreadfire, Supreme Warlord of the Freeks.
... How can you call yourself legitimate fool when you too have stolen the throne from someone most worthy? And how can you call yourself worthy when you lack the honor not just to be Damien's humble servant. You bitch will rue the day you rose to power for an eternity and beyond, and you will most definatly fall. Death comes knocking, and it comes knocking angry. No one can escape the icy grip of the hand of death, and only a deal with Satan can save you. There's only one problem. I am Satan.
These armies come for you woman, and soon they will be spilling your blood into the sea of eternal unforgiveness!