Automagfreek
29-12-2005, 03:29
A chill began to creep back into the spine of Damien, who had grown weary of the constant state of warfare that engulfed Automagfreek. It had been many ages since he felt that icy chill that crawled up and down his back, and he knew that something was amiss.
The sky was pitch black with darkness, and not a single star was able to penetrate the thick clouds with light. A wind began to build in the western mountains, gradually rolling down into the valley below and manifesting itself into a near cyclone at the foot of the Great Hall. A deep rumble woke the sleeping Warlord from his slumber, who immediately came to his senses and scanned the room carefully as his eyes adjusted to the dark. Though his room was heated by a great pit fire and nearly three dozen torches, he could clearly see his breath as he rasied himself from bed and reached for the Relic's Sword that always was by his side.
The skin on the soles of his feet stuck to the frost covered floor as he walked to wardrobe and hastily dressed, unaware of what was occuring around him. Normally he did not feel this anxious except in the heat of battle, but having been home for the past several days he was well rested. This was something...more....
He started for attic of the Great Hall, a dank place that was rarely visited by anyone. There in that dark and forgotten place was housed many strange and old artifacts, some having historical value....while others had spiritual value. Since the first great epidemic of spiritual turbulance in Automagfreek, the hall of the Enclave of Farseers had been abandoned. The ancient order was rumored to have the ability to see into the future and even manipulate the very fabric of time and space. But it had been decades since they departed the shores of AMF, never to return to a land they called 'cursed, and damned by the Gods themselves to never rest...to never be at peace'.
The decaying stairs creaked in protest as the 7 foot Warlord climbed towards the attic of the Great Hall, his path lit only by torchlight which cast a haze in front of him due to the large volume of dust. After a lengthy climb he had finally reached a door made of bronze, which he promptly unlocked and threw open as he stepped into the unheated room.
Moonlight came in through the single window in the ceiling and illuminated a round stone that sat on a pillar in the center of the open room. One of the lost seeing stones, identical to the ones hoarded inside Melkor Unchained deep within Morgoth's clutches, was there in that very room. Although this stone did not show what specifically would happen in the future, it had the power to fill the mind of whoever touched it with images....images they had to interpret for themselves. After a deep inhale Dreadfire moved towards the stone and placed his right hand on in without hesitation, and his mind was immediately bombarded with images.
Flame and smoke was everywhere, and the dying screams of 10,000 souls rang out like a symphony. Artillery and bombs exploded on huge piles of human skulls, and the barking of machine-gun fire was all around him. Great pillars of flame shot up from the ground, and vile demons and packs of possessed dogs tore every living thing in sight to bloody shreds. Bodies fell from the clouds like rain drops, and they smashed violently into the pavement and into those who bled on the ground. A giant tidal wave of blood washed over the entire city, but yet none of the flames were quenched....if anything it only fueled the great blaze. Mighty warships and vast armies began to close in, yet in the middle of it all was a prince shrouded in shining armor. He drew up his sword and his rifle and charged the darkness headfirst, his movements calculated and his courage untainted.
Dreadfire removed his hand and fell backwards onto the cold dusty floor. You would think that one such as himself who had seen the things he had seen would be desensitized to such images, but he was not. He had not seen such images in some time, which led him to believe that perhaps another cycle of spiritual turbulance was on the horizon. But curiosity got the better of him, and after rising to his feet once more he moved back over to the stone, his face dripping with a cold sweat and his hand trembling ever so slightly as he gripped the mystical object once more.
This time he indeed saw the path of the future, though he was not sure if it was an event that would happen or not. War continued to ravage the world, and at the center of it all was the Excessively Armed Empire. Darkness clashed with shadow, and hellfire consumed brimstone. It was a most perplexing illusion that could only have one meaning......
The sky was pitch black with darkness, and not a single star was able to penetrate the thick clouds with light. A wind began to build in the western mountains, gradually rolling down into the valley below and manifesting itself into a near cyclone at the foot of the Great Hall. A deep rumble woke the sleeping Warlord from his slumber, who immediately came to his senses and scanned the room carefully as his eyes adjusted to the dark. Though his room was heated by a great pit fire and nearly three dozen torches, he could clearly see his breath as he rasied himself from bed and reached for the Relic's Sword that always was by his side.
The skin on the soles of his feet stuck to the frost covered floor as he walked to wardrobe and hastily dressed, unaware of what was occuring around him. Normally he did not feel this anxious except in the heat of battle, but having been home for the past several days he was well rested. This was something...more....
He started for attic of the Great Hall, a dank place that was rarely visited by anyone. There in that dark and forgotten place was housed many strange and old artifacts, some having historical value....while others had spiritual value. Since the first great epidemic of spiritual turbulance in Automagfreek, the hall of the Enclave of Farseers had been abandoned. The ancient order was rumored to have the ability to see into the future and even manipulate the very fabric of time and space. But it had been decades since they departed the shores of AMF, never to return to a land they called 'cursed, and damned by the Gods themselves to never rest...to never be at peace'.
The decaying stairs creaked in protest as the 7 foot Warlord climbed towards the attic of the Great Hall, his path lit only by torchlight which cast a haze in front of him due to the large volume of dust. After a lengthy climb he had finally reached a door made of bronze, which he promptly unlocked and threw open as he stepped into the unheated room.
Moonlight came in through the single window in the ceiling and illuminated a round stone that sat on a pillar in the center of the open room. One of the lost seeing stones, identical to the ones hoarded inside Melkor Unchained deep within Morgoth's clutches, was there in that very room. Although this stone did not show what specifically would happen in the future, it had the power to fill the mind of whoever touched it with images....images they had to interpret for themselves. After a deep inhale Dreadfire moved towards the stone and placed his right hand on in without hesitation, and his mind was immediately bombarded with images.
Flame and smoke was everywhere, and the dying screams of 10,000 souls rang out like a symphony. Artillery and bombs exploded on huge piles of human skulls, and the barking of machine-gun fire was all around him. Great pillars of flame shot up from the ground, and vile demons and packs of possessed dogs tore every living thing in sight to bloody shreds. Bodies fell from the clouds like rain drops, and they smashed violently into the pavement and into those who bled on the ground. A giant tidal wave of blood washed over the entire city, but yet none of the flames were quenched....if anything it only fueled the great blaze. Mighty warships and vast armies began to close in, yet in the middle of it all was a prince shrouded in shining armor. He drew up his sword and his rifle and charged the darkness headfirst, his movements calculated and his courage untainted.
Dreadfire removed his hand and fell backwards onto the cold dusty floor. You would think that one such as himself who had seen the things he had seen would be desensitized to such images, but he was not. He had not seen such images in some time, which led him to believe that perhaps another cycle of spiritual turbulance was on the horizon. But curiosity got the better of him, and after rising to his feet once more he moved back over to the stone, his face dripping with a cold sweat and his hand trembling ever so slightly as he gripped the mystical object once more.
This time he indeed saw the path of the future, though he was not sure if it was an event that would happen or not. War continued to ravage the world, and at the center of it all was the Excessively Armed Empire. Darkness clashed with shadow, and hellfire consumed brimstone. It was a most perplexing illusion that could only have one meaning......