NationStates Jolt Archive

The throne room at the Great Hall was empty.

Many hours had passed and still there was no sign of Damien, and as time continued to pass the servants grew uneasy. Word had not yet leaked out that Dreadfire had gone missing, but it was bound to with all the police and secret agents roaming the street. This was of course until somone spotted The Destroyer walking up a long path that lead to the highest peak in the ULE Mountains.

He had taken little with him: The Relic's Sword, a warm animal hide coat, and some ancient texts. A small gathering of people stood at the foot of the winding path and watched as he ascended up the snow covered slope. Nobody knew why Lord Dreadfire would be headed up the mountains, and the small mass gradually grew into a larger one as onlookers continued to whisper gossip among their ranks.

Silvia received word the Damien was headed towards the mountains, and she moved into the throne room and looked out the balcony window. From there she had a great view, and in the distance she could see the faint outline of her father's figure as it disappeared into the snowy beyond.

Just as she was about to leave the room she found a letter placed on the seat of the large obsidian throne in the center of the room. She curiously moved towards it and picked it up, examining it carefully. As fate would have it the letter was addessed to her, and she cockedher head in bewilderment as she began to read.

My dearest Silvia,

I am taking my leave now, and for many days I will diminish and head into the mountains. My dreams have shown me a great many things....many changes that will come about in the Empire....and much blood that will one day be spilled. I have taken with me only what I need to survive, and there is no telling when I will be back. My destination is the highest peak in the ULE Mountain chain, and there I will focus draw upon Nature's energy. The West Winds and the great soul of the mountains will be my host, and when I return I expect to have a much greater understanding of not only my purpose, but the purpose of our Empire.

I do not know what I will find in the mountains, but those great rocks are a holy site. It was on their slopes that the blood of 300,000 men was spilled as Lord Rising Sun made the final charge of the battle that would unify Automagfreek under a single banner. It is there I will focus my power and draw on the energies that flow forth from that site.

I will benefit from this quest, and so will the Empire. The only ones that will not benefit will be our enemies. Until I make my return, I leave you in charge.

I'll see you soon, my precious Silvia.

~Damien~

Silvia then looked back through the window and at the mountain that her father was ascending. She shook her head and sighed deeply, unsure of what to make of the situation. I'll never understand you father, you and your spiritual hunger are beyond the comprehension of even the wisest of men....

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OOC: Not sure where this is headed (making this up as I go), if you want to get involved on some level feel free, character wise or other.

"Our Enemies"
-Bleeding Through-

Part 1

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Now....demons running, racing through my dreams. Taking shape, destroy my life forever. Poisoned memories to fuel this fire, I'll burn you alive.

Near the top of the mountain peak the winds began to howl and blow, whipping up a sea of snow flurries that slashed Damien's face like a thousand razors. He trudged through snow drifts that were several feet deep for hours, searching for the entrance of an ancient cave that had not been found in several hundred years.

A few more hours passed, and as the Warlord neared the peak of the mountain he saw a small black hole in a large snow drift. He waded through the sea of white and came upon the hole, which he reckoned was the entrance he had been searching for. After clearing open the hole he climbed inside and looked out over the terrain he had crossed. From his location he could see the hill where he did battle with his son, Azrael the Advocate.

He tried to stop the incident from replaying in his mind, but he could not make himself forget. He shook it off and continued into the cave, using a pair of flint stones to spark a makeshift torch from an old piece of wood that lay on the floor of the cave. The place looked like it had been recently occupied, but the dried skeleton in the corner suggested that it had been much, much longer.

He then noticed a small pit near the old corpse, and Damien moved over towards the body and sparked up a fire using the dried rags that clung to the frozen body and various planks that lay near it. After several minutes he was quite comfortable, and he sat down on the cold stone floor and closed his eyes.

You, too fragile frail to leave a mark for this lifetime. Legions of storms to prey this war on you.

The spirits there did not take long to begin showing Dreadfire a great many disturbing things....things that happened in the not so distant future. The slaying of Azrael was replaying in his head over and over as a broken record skips over and over again.

In his mind he stood over the corpse of his slain son, a river of red gushing from his headless neck. Dreadfire lifted the severed head of his boy and looked it over without an ounce of remorse in his veins. Suddenly Azrael's eyes lifted and fixed with that of his father, blinking several times before a wailing sound exited The Advocate's mouth. His lips curled and his face contorted as he spoke but one word before dying... Father....

That was not how it all went down though, but the spirits were telling him something....and he would have to endure the entire vision before he could begin to figure out what it meant. Sweat beads formed on his hairless head and ran over his closed eyelids as he remained in a deep state of meditation. The winds outside the cave had died down momentarily, but it was just the calm before the inevitable storm.

Designed with false emotion....I'll cross the line to take the fall.

Tag

Tag

'Our Enemies'
-Bleeding Through-

Part 2

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Demons running, racing through my dreams. Taking shape, destroy my life forever...... awaken my love and inhale this beautiful silence, but for now and this thread I hold will be gone forever.

He suddenly snapped out of the trance and spun around. A cool breeze blew from a dark corner of the cave, and as he peered into the darkness he tought he saw a figure of a person emerge from he shadows, only to retreat back into the blackness. Damien stood and drew both the Relic's Sword and a burning torch, and without hesitation he started off towards the dark hole in the cold stone walls. As he stood at the mouth of the hole he noticed that there was indeed a breeze funneling up from the underground tunnel, and it caused his torch to flicker and dance wildly.

The opening was narrow but somehow he managed to squeeze his way through and begin a very long decent into the sloping tunnel. After about 30 yards of walking he heard the sounds of footsteps running away from him, and Dreadfire shouted Hey! and took off after him. He ran as fast as his mighty legs could carry him, but the sounds grew more and more distant by the second, until they disappeared. Damien stopped running and held the torch out in his arm, and he shook his head before turning around and starting back towards the cave.

As he took his first step light filled the room along with the sounds of barking gunfire and masive explosions. He whirled around and saw that there was a great battlefield before him, and the two sides were engaged in point blank trench warfare. Hundreds of thousands of men exchanged heavy automatic firel, some charged at each other with their rifles blazing, and many hundreds were cut down by a wall of lead every second. The two sides continued pounding eachother with artillery and tanks, the explosions mere yards away from their own lines as well.

Damien watched as the battle intensified, and both sides gave the order to charge at the same time. A sea of men merged from their trenches and charged headfirst across the small section of open ground between the trenches. As The Destroyer watched this in awe, he noticed in the massive group of people a single man wearing a bright red cape. He peered on through the bellowing smoke at the figure, and as he looked on the figure stopped and looked at him. It was his son Azrael, enguled in the heat of battle and about to make a charge to his death. Damien did not hesitate and began to run down from the tunnel into the massacre below.

His eyes did not shift form Azrael, and as his son lovingly smiled at his father a bullet caught him across the stomach. The Advocate fell to the ground as his innard were spilled onto the battlefield, and his eyes grew large as he wailed and howled in pain. Damien screamed aloud and pushed his way through the men that were dying all around him, intent on getting to his son before he died. Damien dropped his torch and his sword on the ground and prepared to scoop his son up into his arms....but just as he was about to grab ahold of him everything vanished.



No more. This choice that makes me choose.... and it burns inside me, and I lie awake, forever. Forever.

Only darkness remained inside the large stone room, and Damien dropped to his knees as he realized it was all just an illusion. The torch sat on the ground and began to burn out, so Damien picked it up and looked about his surroundings. There had not been any great battle, and his son was not dying in front of him. The spirits were playing cruel mind games with him, he thought.

He screamed aloud and cursed the Gods and the spirits inside the holy site, and he picked up his sword and prepared to dispatch himself. He dropped the torch again and held the shining blade in both hands, ready to thrust it into his own midsection.....but just as he was about to go through with it he heard those same footsteps again. Dreadfire did not pay them any attention, and as he took in his last breath the sword suddenly became red hot, searing his hands and causing him to drop it on the ground. Damien looked around the room and noticed that the footsteps were coming towards him, so he picked up the torch and attempted to see where they were coming from.

Damien. The voice was familiar, but not that of his son.

He whirled the torch around a few more times before seeing a figure standing before him. The long black coat and wide brim hat were all too familiar.

It cannot be...

Damien staggered back a few steps as he looked on with his mouth agape. The One was not due to make his return to the Realm of the Living for another month or so, but yet he stood before the Warlord as lively as ever. The One stepped forward and lifted his head ever so slightly so that his face was nearly visible, but his hands remained tucked inside his coat pockets.

It is I, Damien, The One Who Shall Remain Unnamed. Although I appear to you in the flesh I have not yet taken physical form. My soul has almost completed its cycle, and soon I will be ready to emerge from the Tomb of the Mutilated. But I brought you here to this holy site for a reason....

Damien snarled and lashed out at The One in an emotional fit of rage. For what? So you could torture me with your sick fucking mind games? You knew by son was dear to me, and now you haunt me with images? Explain!

The One did not move at all, or even blink for that matter. There is hope yet, Damien. Your son may still live again.

Damien got right up in the face of The One without an ounce of fear. With a burning fire in his heart and ice water pumping through his veins, The Destroyer laid it all out on the line. BULLSHIT! I cut his head off his shoulders with this sword in my hand. I held it high in my hands and let his blood run onto my face, and yet you tell me that this can be undone? I don't believe it.

Damien turned around to leave, but as he spun around The One was already in front of him. Why would I lie to you, my master? What would I have to gain by doing so? I may be able to bring his soul back across the Realms as I make my return journey. I cannot promise you anything, but it is very possible that I may be able to do so. I require only a few things, and the most important of which is for you to find Azrael's head and body and bring them into the Halls. You will then need a vile of his blood and a priest to help channel his soul back across to the Realm of the Living. Hope is not lost Dreadfire.

Damien snorted, but then thought on the situation long and hard. He sat on a nearby rock and ran his hand across his face and tried to soak the whole situation in. Alright One, we will give it a try. Every night my dreams are haunted by that fateful day when my only son was slain at the hands of the man who created him. I have regretted that action, but it was an action that had to be done nonetheless. That demon whore Rayne had my darling boy under a very powerful spell, and only through death could he have been cured.

Yes, we will try. How will I stay in contact with you?

The One began to dematerialize, and as his figure faded into shadow he spoke but one final time. We will not. Meet me in the Halls at this hour, exactly one month from now. I'll see you soon.... And with that, Damien was left alone inside the large cold room. The trip back to the surface would be a short one, and from there he would complete his spiritual reflection and head back down towards the world that he had created.

It had been several weeks since his encounter with The One, and night had come to the ULE Valley. The raging snow storm outside the cave had died down for a brief while, allowing Lord Dreadfire to look out across the entire city below him. He had been in meditation almost nonstop for 3 weeks, and for almost 3 weeks straight the spirits inside that holy site tortured his mind.

Those who waited below watched eagerly as the snows began to subside, hoping to catch a glance of their leader if and when he decided to come back down. They were not disappointed though, because Dreadfire did indeed descend from high atop the moutain peak. The snow drifts had grown about a foot or two, and it took the Warlord considerably longer to come back down. Those who saw his face as he walked saw that something had changed him greatly, for the moment or permanently, they did not know. He walked immediatly towards the Great Hall without even acknowledging the presense of the presence of the onlookers, as if he was sent on a mission.

He wasted no time in throwing open the massive doors of the Hall and decending the winding stairs into the basement that sat several stories beneath the surface. It was damp, dark, and musty, but Damien paid his surroundings little attention as he shuffled through various odd items that were left to rot in the basement. After some searching he removed a gold chest that he had hidden inside a wooden trunk, and he delicatly ran his fingers across the engravings before opening it.

Inside was the withered and rotten head of his son Azrael, a look of horror still frozen on what remained of his face. Dreadfire held the head and looked at it as if he were in some sort or trance, and he kissed the dried and hardened skin of his son's forehead before wrapping it in a black cloth.

Several minutes later Damien summoned forth his best friend, Hartman, and gave him some very explicit instructions. Hartman, you are to retrieve the body of Azrael the Advocate, my one and only son. He swallowed hard after soaking in Damien's orders, but he did not question them for a second....for when Dreadfire gave Hartman an order, it obviously was for good reason.

As the International Affairs Minister began to leave the throne room, Dreadfire stopped him one final time and gave him yet another order. You are to send invitation to our closest friends in Gholgoth and the Blood Pact for the awakening of.....The One Who Shall Remain Unnamed.

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OOC: I'm not happy with this post, but it will have to do.

OOC: Tag, and what are you looking for in ppl joining? Anything in particular?

tag

For days Lord Dreadfire's personal staff began making preparations inside The Halls for the arrival of the Lord of the Death Dealers. Although the entire facility was stained to its very foundation with the stench of rot and gore, those inside worked around the clock with special attention to every little detail. Special candles that burn black when lit were brought in by the thousands and placed around the most unholy site in the entire facility....The Tomb of the Mutilated. No living man had ever seen the inside the the Tomb, and all that was known was that it was the source of the Death Dealers and their unwordly power.

For three days the workers inside toiled past the point of exhaustion, and another three days had passed until The One would be awakened. Less than a day remained now, and dignitaries across the entire nation came under secrecy to witness a once in a lifetime spectacle. Marv Bonesplitter, Minister Hartman, his daughter Silvia, and every available Warchief. As the hours until the awakening began to tick away, those that had showed up made their way down Lord Dreadfire's secret entrance to The Halls and down past the main torture facility.

They passed the various instruments of death, all stained with the blood of the condemned and still stinking of cold flesh, and made their way towards the Tomb. A large red carpet had been laid out in front of the simple stone slab on the ground that served as the entrance from which The One would pass through. Those who were present bowed their heads as Damien entered the room and walked towards the stone slab, his armor shining in the candle light and his red cape fluttering behind him ever so slightly.

Dreadfire placed his right had on the Tomb and took a knee, whispering a silent prayer to the Gods and praying that The One would be able to pull the soul of Azrael across the realms. Let us begin. Dreadfire rose to his feet and looked out across the room of familiar faces, and from his armor he pulled out a tattered text that had seen too many moons, and from it's wrinkled and brown pages he began to chant in a tongue that very few spoke.

Dreadfire's eyes rolled back and turned red as he concentrated all his internal energy into his words. Those who looked on either remained motionless or looked on in awe, as was the case with Silvia. Her thigh length hair began to sway as a slight breeze began to blow in seemingly out of nowhere, and not too long after that her long black dress also began to pick up. The black flames on the candles did not sway nor flicker however, but instead the wicks exploded with life. The flames suddenly turned red and shot up several feet, and soon a low rumble filled the room as the large stone that sealed The Tomb off from the rest of humanity began to slide back.

Instantly the candles went out all at once, leaving only illumination from inside the now visible hole in the ground. A grey vapor began to filter out through into the room, and slowly a shape began to materialize from the shadow. The shape of a long trench coat and a wide brim hat were trademarks of none other than The One, and those inside the room bowed as the Lord of the Death Dealers became fully visible. Damien glanced around without trying to look frantic, straining his eyes to see if The One had managed to pull his son back across the realms into the world of the living.

I make my return, and by the will of the Dread Fires I have come back to this land to faithfully serve the one known as Warlord. Sleep now in the fire, foes and fiends that lurk in the shadows, the creature known only as The One Who Shall Remain Unnamed is among the living once more!

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

As the intense light faded Damien noted that there was only one figure standing near the entrance to the Tomb. The Lord of the Death Dealers had failed to bring Azrael back from across the realms, and it was just as the Warlord feared. He choked back his rage and sadness and welcomed back his old friend with the warmest smile and handshake he could muster.

The One, too long has it been since we have were graced by your presence. Too long has it been since the house of the Death Dealers opened its doors and let loose the fury inside. For too long have we lingered in darkness without your wisdom and guidance. Welcome back, old friend.

The One bowed to his master and turned back towards the Tomb, and in the instant the ground began to tremble and the candles in the room started flickering violently as if a great wind storm had manifested. The Tomb opened its cursed gate once more, and spat forth hundreds of Death Dealers that had been lost during the clash with Rayne. One by one they climbed out of the unworldly hole and stood in formation around the room, their red eyes adding an eerie tinge to the yellow and orange candlelight hat danced across the room now.

As the last of the Death Dealers made their return to the realm of the living, Damien led them in a procession through the decaying corridors of The Halls and out into the fresh night air. The Death Dealers looked around in wonder as if they had arrived in a distant paradise, for to them it was great to be back home. A decorated Sentinel gaurd lined the cobblestone path that lead to the stony wall of the most vile torture chamber ever known to man, and they saluted their brothers in arms as they passed.

The celebration continued on late into the night, and as the guests began to linger off Damien snuck out into the gardens of the Great Hall and looked up towards the moon. His heart was sunk deep within his chest, and each moment he thought about Azrael his heart ached even more. His one chance to bring his son back had failed, and the Warlord's head was churning with thoughts about how else he could revive him. As fate would have it, the only living priest who knew how to bring souls back from across the realms has given his life in order to save Damien from the Other Side, and sadly he took that knowledge with him into limbo. Perhaps there was another way.....

Wolves and other wild dogs howled at the moon as it sat high in the cloudless night sky, and occasionally the wind would cause the tall grass and other vegetation to shake and tremor before returning to a state of serenity. It was the perfect setting for a nightmare indeed, and in the days following the collapse of Rayne, every day seemed to be an unending nightmare to Damien. But one thing kept him going no matter what: his determination to never lose at anything. He had not given up in his life for any reason, and he would not stop now....not when the stakes were this high. Damien's line, his entire legacy counted on the resurrection of Azrael, and he was determined to achieve that no matter how long it took or how high the cost was.