NationStates Jolt Archive

Night had swept across the ULE Valley, and the site of the recently finished Dawn's Cathedral was nearly pitch black. It had been many years since the original structure had been burned down by Damien's son, the late Azrael the Advocate. It had been only a few short years since the Westwind Citadel, Azrael's home built on the site, had been razed to the ground by Damien himself. There was a lot of history behind the Cathedral, and a lot of blood that had been spilled on the supposedly holy site.

The darkness had been violated by a single burning torch in the distance from the now sleeping ULE City, and the ball of light made for the Cathedral doors. The thick slabs of oak that kept the church safe from the outside world were thrown open and then quickly shut again, concealing the figure who had opened them inside its monsterously high walls. The figure walked down the long isle and towards the altar, one of the few parts of the church that had survived the test of time.

Patiently the figure went from candle to candle, lighting each one with great care and making sure not a single one went untouched by the flame he carried in his hand. He placed the torch in a holder near the stone slab and removed the crimson cloak that shrouded his body. It was Lord Dreadfire, the Cathedral's number one customer. Many a restless night he had spent praying to the Gods above for wisdom and aid...many nights he had fallen asleep inside its safe walls, shut out from the horrors of day to day life.

But on this day, or night to be more exact, the Cathedral would be the site chosen for a ritual that had not been performed in Automagfreek in nearly 2,000 years. Since the slaying of his son by his own hand, Damien had been driven nearly insane on his quest to bring him back from the grave. The One Who Shall Remain Unnamed had failed to carry his soul back across the realms, and he himself had failed to conjure up his spirit from the Other Side. Tonight he would try again.

Damien placed an old and withered book on the altar and immediatly began flipping to the page he had marked for reference. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath before chating the ancient texts in the heathen tongues of the Freeks of old. Such spells were considered heresey and those who performed them would be subject to Puritania without discrimination. But Dreadfire did not have this on his mind as he rattled off the unholy verses, attempting to use the powers of darkness to help bring back his son.

In his mind the Light had failed him, and therefore he had no other choice but to resort to....alternative methods. As the ghastly words ran off his tongue the room began to darken, and a chill began to form as the air high inside the church started swirling. Soon there was a slight breeze, regardless of the fact that there was not a single window was open and not a single hole in the structure was present. Damien embraced the darkness and pledged his Life's Blood, indeed his very soul to the demon gods of they would grant him but this one wish....for the one born of his flesh to return to the Realm of the Living.

I will do whatever it takes, I will make any sacrifice to see the face of Azrael once more. Damien then walked over to a section of the wall that was converted into a shrine for the fallen son of The Dread Fire, and inside a medium sized wooden box were the remains of Azrael.....well, what was found for that matter. Damien laid them out in the figure of a person, the arm and leg bones placed appropriately and the skull at the top of the collection of bones. The bones were then painted with the blood of Dreadfire himself, and as he slid the knife across the palm of his right hand he continued chanting.

He then laid a black cloth over the bloodied bones and lifted his hands towards the heavens, his eyes rolling back in his head and the floor trembling beneath him. Heathen Gods of old, hear my cries! Bring back that which was slain, rejuvenate that which has withered. Rekindle the burning flames that have subsided!

The walls inside Dawn's Cathedral began to bleed as he continued on with the ceremony, and the entire structure began to moan and creak as the stone and wood shifted back and forth. As the ritual was nearly complete, the flames on the candles jumped several feet in the air, and large pentagrams appeared on the floor, scrawled in human blood. The Destroyer himself was now trembling as ice began to form on his appendages, but the chuch itself was so hot that a misty vapor filled the main hall.

Soon the ritual would be over, and soon he would see if the Dark Lords of the Underworld would heed his call.

The final passage had been uttered, and Damien collapsed in a heap on the floor. His body was coated with a thick frost which he promptly shook off, and has he stood and tried to focus his eyes through the misty haze, he felt as if there was someone or something else in the room with him. He started towards the stone altar that the remains of Azrael had been placed on, but before he could get within arms reach of the black cloth, a raspy voice spoke out.

Drrreeeeaaaddddfffiiiiirrrrreeee........ A large and near skeletal being stood in a darkened corner with a long flowing robe shrouding his body. He glided towards Damien across the floor without moving his legs, and he stood hunched over before the Warlord. Had he stood upright he would have towered over ten feet, but the creature's body was twisted and stood no more than six feet tall. The black skin that fell of its skull stunk of rot and bodily fluids, and the creature spoke through a hole in its throat that had been stretched open and secured with razor wire.

...power is beyond the comprehension of flesh....life eternal you seek for your seed....made of light and extinguished by darkness. The creature continued to nearly float towards Damien, and it extended a bony hand and placed it on Damien's shoulder. The smell intensified as heat inside the room increased, and as Dreadfire glacned over his shoulder he noticed that the creature left a trail of bleeding pentagrams in its path.

What would you have with me, vile wraith? Barked the fiery Warlord, not intimidated in the slightest by the creature's presense.

The beast cackled wildly through its throat. ...what would you have with me? You have summonded me forth...from the depths of the Underworld...

A chill went down Damien's spine as the words echoed through his head. The spell had worked. And who might I ask are you, my pasty and underfed friend? Dreadfire was almost mocking in the way he spoke.

I.....I am the true essence of The Destroyer....the mantle to which you have bastardized and taken as your own. I am the macabre, I am the beginning and the end, I am...oblivion. You seek the help of the Underworld? You turned your back on those that could have spared your son. Dreadfire scoffed and sneered at the so called 'Destroyer'.

I AM The Destroyer of worlds, I am the scourge of mankind. The essence of The Destroyer manifest itself inside me when... Damien was then cut off by the creature. ...when you were in the Halls of the Dead, unlocking the Valut of Souls. I know...because I truely am who I say I am. Damien nodded his head, knowing that this being really was the essence of The Destroyer, a figure in AMF history that dated back to the Dark Ages. The real world equivalent to the Devil himself, The Destroyer was the most brutal of the ancient Warlords. Under him more people were killed in manners that even today are deemed as overly cruel and harsh.

If you really are The Destroyer that once manifest itself inside me, help me now to bring back my son....help me return Azrael to the Realm of the Living. The Destroyer straightened its crooked back and towered three feet over Lord Damien and let loose a cackle so loud it caused dust to fall from the ceiling. If I do for you, you must do for me. When, how, and what that is I will decide later. Damien did not need another second to think, for his mind was already made up. I agree to your terms, whatever they may be. Now, let the Dread Fires and The Destroyer be as one yet again.

The creature extended its hand and nodded its rotten head, beckoning Dreadfire to seal the deal, so that Azrael might live again.

(OOC:
Tag.
You dont mind my joining, do you? I would love to if I can figure out a way to get a guy inside your country.)

It was odd though, Damien never felt the essence of The Destroyer leave him. But perhaps that could explain his change in mood and temper, and ever since the slaying of Azrael he seemed a bit more docile. He glanced over at the being standing next to him and weighed his options, however few they were.

How long will it be until I get to see my son again? The Destroyer turned and looked at Damien, starring him down breifly before extending a bony finger and pointing to the motionless black cloth. Dreadfire walked towards the cloth and removed it, and lying there on the table was Azrael, alive and well. He smiled as he looked upon his creator, lifting a weak left arm and muttering Father! in the strongest voice he could muster. Damien's eyes began to fill with water as he reached out for Azrael's hand, only to have the boy's entire body go limp once more.

Damien spun around and lashed out at The Destroyer. What the fuck are you trying to pull here? Why do you bring my son back from the grave only to take him away seconds later? The Destroyer again extended his arm and pointed to the stone slab on which the boy rested, and as Damien turned he saw that there was nothing but bones.....it was all an illusion.

That was but a taste of what I can offer you. Do for me, and I shall do for you. I will bring your son back to life, but I demand things in return. I do not think I am being too unreasonable? The hideous creature cocked its head and looked on as Damien lost himself in thought again. What will it be, o scourge of mankind?

I…will do whatever it takes to get my son back. Do with me what you will, but as long as he lives I care not. The Destroyer cackled loudly and turned into a transparent vapor, massing into a giant ball of eerie light. He then thrust himself into the body of Dreadfire, causing the Warlord to writhe around on the cold stone floor for several minutes. Once his thrashing stopped he rose from the ground and surveyed the room. Things were as they should be, and he did not feel any different….that was until he heard the voice of the creature inside his head.

Damien the Dreadfire, we are as one yet again. Damien the Destroyer you have become once more. Damien felt the blood surging through his head as the voice echoed inside him. Go now, I demand tribute. Sacrifice for me five hundred innocents, and my thirst will be quenched.

That morning Damien sent his 502nd Sentinel Infantry Division through the countryside, rounding up anyone that was a prominent figure in the local communities. They snatched people from their homes who had not committed a crime in their lives, and most of those whom they took were of religious background. It was no secret that outside religion was openly scorned, and Dreadfire saw this as an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.

After several hours, a convoy of trucks arrived in ULE City, containing the prisoners that were to be executed. They were put on display high atop the hill where Dawn’s Cathedral sat before being shuffled off to the execution site nearly a half mile up the hill.

The mood was tense.

Hundreds of people were surrounded by thousands of soldiers, and soon Damien's 'holy tribute' would begin. Standing at the highest point in the Cathedral, he began another series of ritualistic demonic chants as the people were seperated into smaller groups. After his prayer to the heathen Gods and to The Destroyer were complete, he left the church and took to the execution site.

On this glorious day, you people have been chosen for a great task. While it is a tragedy that your life'a fire must be extinguished, it is for a greater cause. Come now, pray to the Gods for a swift death. Pray to them, so that your soul may be saved. Sleep Now In The Fire....

With that Dreadfire flicked his wrist as his Sentinels, and in an instant they began dragging the doomed people over to large, sharpened poles that were strewn about on the grass. The pikes were jammed into their abdomen forcibly before being lifted up towards the heavens. Unimaginable screams filled the air not only from those who were being slowly impaled, but by those who were next. Slowly, gradually, the pike pieced organ after organ as their bodies slid further and further down towards the ground. There was a wooden stopper several feet down from the top of the pike which prevented a body from falling all the way to the bottom. It also intensified the victims pain and fear as they had to sit and slowly die with a sharp wooden stick pentrating their body. They could see the pointed end sicking out from their shoulders, thier chests, their sides....and each scream of agony and terror could be heard for miles.

For hours this continued until the last few people had been impaled. The sun was nearly blacked out as the 25 foot pikes dominated the landscape near Dawn's Cathedral. A literal wall of human bodies had been built, and at the foot of it all Lord Dreadfire dropped to his knees and bowed to those dead before him. The sickening sweet stench of death swept across the valley as a strong wind from the west blew in, cauing the limbs of the corpses to sway eerily back and forth. Crows and other large birds began to feast on those who had long since expired, sending streams of blood towards the ground as their flesh was slowly eaten away. The grass beneath the corpses had tuned red in the matter of a few hours, and the increasing midday heat only intensified the odor.

A small crowd had gathered at the foot of the hill, where they wept in sadness and in fear of what just happened. It had been some time since the last public execution, and this had been the most vile one in recent memory. A barbed wire fence was placed around the perimeter of the great 'Human Wall', and Damien ordered their bodies to sit atop their pikes until the birds devoured every last ounce of flesh.

The Warlord returned to the inside of the church and immediatly walked to the altar. Under his breath, as if someone else might have been listening, he whispered to The Destroyer. It is done. He heard a great laugh boom throughout the church, but Damien knew that only he could hear it.

Good, good Lord Dreadfire. The sacrifice is complete, but there is still much work to be done before Azrael will walk the Earth again. Come now, we had best get moving.

~Tag~

+tag+

The Destroyer was pleased with the sacrifice in his name.

Very good Lord Dreadfire, your sacrifice has pleased not only me, but the Gods themselves. For that, you shall have your son back.....provided you can find the one person that knows how to do so.

The Destroyer cackled loudly with that same dry, raspy voice that annoyed the Warlord to no end. He had been duped by The Destroyer.....or had he?

Perhaps this was the chance he was waiting for, perhaps he was one step closer to accomplishing his ultimate goal. And where will I find this person, villian? For several minutes there was nothing but silence, but just as Damien turned his back a crashing boom filled the entire building, causing dust to fall from the ceiling.

Gholgoth.

Later that evening Damien returned to the Great Hall via his personal secret passage. Nobody knew he had returned, and he was hoping that it would stay that way. He turned on his television breifly to see coverage of his sacrifice to the Gods, and the interview of Hartman. A good man he is. He thought to himself as he rifles through a stack of files. Who could it be? Who was the person the wraith was referring to?

Crimmond? No. Sigma Octavus? Probably not. Mallberta. Possibly, but most likely not. Pantera? Maybe....Doujin.....

Doujin, the one country that was more or less an oddity in Gholgoth. While the region was neither devoted to light or dark, Doujin was certainly the brightest of the bunch. Perhaps the darkness wasn't the answer...maybe in the light Dreadfire would find his son. He decided that he would get on a plane immediatly with the remains of Azrael. Automagfreek was too dark of a place to bring his son back to life, another, less 'evil' setting would have to do.

He gave but one short transmission to Doujin high command of his arrival, stating little more than that he was coming on business of the highest importance, and he was to be greeted by none other than the highest Doujin authority. The jet screamed out of the underground hangar and began the long flight towards Gholgoth's shining spire...Doujin.