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Post by erebus on Jun 24, 2007 0:58:16 GMT -5
There are no words to express the things that shadows feel, or to explain the way that they see. There will never be a human or demon or any other intelligent, sentient creature that can ever manage to decipher the ancient language of thought and emotion that was shared by the elementals. But I am not here to tell you the millions of stories that the shadows whisper in my ear when I look upon the injustices of humanity.
I am here to tell my story. The story of one weary warrior, a blademaster. A father, a lover. Betrayed and broken, reforged and blooded. The story of Everhate. The story of Armok von Darkmoor.
===
Memories are jumbled in my head, but there are many tales to be told that will forever remain unblemished. Stories of valor and passion, and of hatred and envy. The story I'd like to write about first is not in chronological order, but it will explain to you how my Shadow Clan empire came to be. Bear with me as I put to words the cunning and careful manipulations of a brilliant tactician with an endless credit account to create the strongest military empire in the history of evolution.
-=-=-Chapter One-=-=-
Two years after my banishment from the High Court of Te'yon, I found myself in a mercenary company known as the Reavers. The name fit, because we were the reapers of death. Soul reavers. We hunted demons and alien alike, as well as played mercenary company in times of war. We traveled from galaxy to galaxy recruiting soldiers, leaving outposts. Finally, my time came.
While out on a border skirmish in the distant galaxy of Yliddish, Commander Skrix himself requested that a young warrior named Armok join him on the front line. I was known as a veteran warrior, and as a blademaster of some merit, despite my youth. I was promoted, and I became the Commander's personal bodyguard. As the weeks straggled by, and we fought battle after battle, many enemies were slain. However, for every army we beat, two replaced it. I became fast friends with different lieutenants and captains, as well as Marshals and Vindicators. Little did I know that in less than a year, these same men would be swearing loyalty to me, and becoming the foundations of my military empire.
Eight weeks and two days after I was promoted to bodyguard, disaster struck. A group of recruits from a local city were disguised mercenaries of a rival warlord. I was wounded in the line of duty. Out of a command center of six hundred, eighty-four men survived. Two hundred veteran enemy had sabotaged machinery and rigged explosives, then engaged about three hundred men in combat. The kill count was One hundred fourteen. Of that number, I was accounted for thirty-seven kills. My commander ordered a recount, and then a second recount. Once it was established that I truly had done such a valiant, yet damning deed... I was promoted once more. First Lieutenant Armok von Darkmoor. The name had a nice ring.
Two weeks after that fateful promotion, we shipped out of Yliddish. Our next sign-on was a full-scale war. Te'yon was at war... with our employer.
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Post by simplyKATEY. on Jun 24, 2007 17:59:18 GMT -5
o.o << >> More.
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Post by erebus on Jun 28, 2007 9:14:05 GMT -5
Before I continue writing, there are a few things you should know. Things that no living person does know.
To begin at a slow, steady pace. At the age of eleven, I went to war. Not little boys playing with sticks, nor was it a valiant stand, a defiant people spitting in the eye of their enemy. It was brutal, and it was gory, and it was unholy. Why would an eleven year old march to war? There are many reasons, but first and foremost... When you watch your parents get butchered for being "heretics" and you see your sister dragged away for the Slave Market, you learn hate. And that hate sustains you more than love ever could dream of. More than food and water, than warmth and comfort. Hate gives you purpose, a reason to exist. Hatred gives you rage, and fuels your desire to annihilate your enemies, to wreak havoc and to destroy everything they ever held dear.
But enough of my rantings. This story is more important than any I could ever dream to tell, so I shall continue. Eleven years old, clad in anger, hurt, and a suit of ragged chainmail, I fought and I killed men. For three months, my people warred with the Empire, and for three months my people were slaughtered. During what would be the last major skirmish, I took a blew that nearly split me in half. As I tried vainly to hold myself together, all around me my comrades looked upon me with pity as they fled the field. As my vision started growing dark, a man walked up to me. It was strange, because even now I cannot remember his face. Tall and slim. A cloak with a hood pulled up, leaving his face shrouded in shadows. A suit of platemail with a tabard emblazoned with some odd insignia, two bolts of lightning interlocking, one red and one black.
The man knelt in front of me and I bared my teeth, presuming he was here to provide a mercy-kill. However, the strange man looked around, and when he saw none of his comrades were looking, he pulled a medallion out of his tabard. He spoke some strange language, then laughed. He repeated himself in english. Do you want to live?" And, being an eleven year old boy, I did. I didn't care how he would save me, but I had people to kill. Then, before I could ready myself, if indeed that is possible with this caliber of agony, I felt my soul shred.
That is the only way I can accurately describe what the man did. No words can explain the mortal agony, the feeling of death spreading through your body, but before I could die a new presence surged through me. My blood grew hot, and had to boil. My eye-sight was sharper, my hearing, my smell. I felt stronger, but what did I know then? Then, to my amazement, the fatal cleave that was spilling my insides ... began to close.
The man smiled at me. And then pulled me to my feet. With my head down, I walked with him towards his commander. A war of propaganda had led me to believe that this Empire was evil, cruel. Demonic. But how could that be, when a stranger I had just been trying to kill put me back together?
===
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Post by erebus on Jun 29, 2007 23:02:05 GMT -5
To pick up where I left off would be stupid. So, I will spare you the gritty details of learning seven languages, two of which including Infernal and an ancient tongue of shadows, becoming the galaxy's youngest blade master, and becoming a Archon of Arawn. I will take you to the first defining, positive moment of my life.
On my sixteenth name-day, my teacher, a High Archon of Arawn named Azadon, sent me to Te'yon. Te'yon is the city that is the capital of the galaxy of Te'yon, as is popular with the more aristocratic nations. Te'yon was a land where guns were for brutes, and the most civilized form of weaponry was sword and bow. So, I packed my bags and I went. With only my sword and my faith, I stepped from the simple world of war and learning... into a world of wars fought with words, and democracy.
The High King Mo'gar himself requested me. A recent assasination attempt on his life required him to take on a body guard. So, I was required to learn a whole new art of war. Aristocracy. In two months, I humiliated myself a thousand times, made a fool of myself with the most beautiful women I had ever seen... yet, more importantly, I had killed two assassins.
I was decorated with beautiful weapons, beautiful armor, and a dozen prestigious estates and flourishing businesses. But more importantly than any of that, I met my first wife. The first time I met her, she stormed into the King's Hall, her face flushed with fury, and she slapped me so hard my head rang for two days for trying to block her path. Mo'gor chuckled and weathered her rage. He promised her that Asmodeus would be punished for raiding her lands most fierce.
The next day she came to my chambers before she left to apologize for nearly unhinging my jaw. I made a fool of myself then, too. What do you say when you realize that your entire life, you've been staring at a dull sun? But I will not tell you of my first love. I will tell you the tale that must be told.
For the next ten months or so, things were relatively calm. A storm was brewing, but that was politics, eh? However, we recieved disturbing news. Since Katriana's fateful breaking my jaw, <Armok chuckles here, a pleasant memory> she had written me letters. She wrote of love and romance, and of mindless suitors after her land and titles. She wrote to me about a knight she had met, clad in his armor and his faith, and how he held her heart even if he didn't know it. I envied him, more than I should have envied any man. But she was everything I had ever wanted.
But her letters. She also wrote of increased incursions by Asmodeus. Villages were sacked, towns burned. Cities were being sieged. And the King did nothing. So, I did the only thing that my young, naive heart could do. I appoached High-King Mo'gor. The next day, I was sent to Katriana's kingdom of Chantico.
=-=-=
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Post by simplyKATEY. on Jun 29, 2007 23:04:58 GMT -5
And, once again, your writing puts mine to shame.
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Post by afr on Jun 30, 2007 0:42:45 GMT -5
It's good to finally know the whole story... well met.
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Post by erebus on Jun 30, 2007 12:41:05 GMT -5
To men and women of literature, statistics and logistics may mean little to you, but let me put this into terms you can understand. When we arrived in Chantico, the capital city was under siege. Nearly ten thousand of Asmodeus' men were preparing to storm the gates, walls, and kill as many townspeople as possible to simply demoralize their opponents into defeat.
The way they laughed when I lined up my two hundred men and started marching. I don't know what caused the laughter to stop first. The fact that at one hundred yards we drew our swords... or that at fifty we charged. I was the first to scythe into their lines, and I was the first to draw blood and to kill an enemy. Ironically, I was the first to take a wound as well. An arrow in my shoulder. <Armok peels off his shirt, then shows the listener his scar>
But my wounds are not important. That day, we fought for hours. Hundreds of Asmodeus' men were slain. And still they came. Their numbers were overwhelming, ten thousand against two hundred. But I heard a story as a boy, while I was training, of Sparta. Of men fighting for the ideal of liberty and freedom. Men who died defending those ideals and made their enemies suffer for every inch of ground they took. King Leonidas faced worse odds than I did. Perhaps a couple of my men would survive to to spread the tale of what happened this day.
Before we could be slain, however, the gates of the besieged city were thrown open. Nearly two thousand soldiers charged out, their captain on a silver steed at their vanguard. They cleaved a path through Asmodeus' Trisworn Legion, and hope dawned on the horizon. My men broke their diamond formations and began fighting in pairs as the defenders joined our ranks. I found myself face to face with Asmodeus' favorite henchman, a noble of some influence back at the Court of Te'yon. After an epic battle, blademaster against blademaster, I panted, bleeding from a dozen cuts. On the ground before me, the blademaster grew still, death returning him to the place from which he came.
Of the two hundred men I came with, one hundred and seventy three survived. Of the ten thousand besiegers, nearly four-thousand fled the field. I found myself resting against a scorched catapult, applying pressure to the wound where an arrow had been seconds before when the officer that led the defenders dismounted before me. Beautiful, raven black hair flowed from her helmet as she tossed it aside. Lady Katriana laughed, and when she smiled she put the very heavens themselves to shame. I made a fool of myself trying to use elegant words, so I resorted to simply returning her smile. I didn't know what to do when she wrapped me in her arms and her thanks. She took me into her castle, and she stitched my wounds herself. What else happened that day, I think, is best left unsaid.
The next day, I returned to the High Court of Te'yon. I gave High King Mo'gor my resignation, and one hundred seventy-three men followed me back to Chantico.
===
<Armok stretches, then chuckles> Those were good days, back then. Sometimes I miss them, but I love my Shadow Clan. I've loved and I've lost so much... but I've been loved by so many. Of that hundred seventy three, only eight survive today, and they call themselves the Swords of the Dragon. But I was and never will be a dragon. I am a demon. But I ramble, let me finish my story friend.
===
Katriana and I were wed about two months later, and her kingdom rejoiced. The people loved me for some reason, a courteous and elegant knight-templar of Arawn, who was the tri-fold blade of judge, jury, and executioner. I was not cruel, and I listenened to any petitioner as I would listen to an old friend. My friends, the soldiers that had come to fight with me that day, enjoyed their lives, occasionally meeting in the Castle for training or fun. Seven months after that fateful battle, Elric was born.
Sadly, that was the same day a messenger came to the Castle. He was bleeding from three arrow wounds... but he loved his Lord and his Lady. He smiled as he died, his hand clasped in mine. His message was simple. "Asmodeus... comes, my Lord"
Rage and fury battled with a cold determination to kill the man. War horns sounded, and I sent messages to my friends at Te'yon's Court. Sadly, Asmodeus held more favor than an old bodyguard, and Mo'gor's son was growing popular as well. Mo'gor's son... one of Asmodeus' lapdogs. I would have to fight the battle on my own.
My armies assembled, filled to bursting with volunteers and mercenaries I had met while in Te'yon. All friends, an extended family of sorts. I did not ask any man to do any chore I would not or had not done myself. We marched day and night for two days, and when my men roared, the skies trembled. Asmodeus' army did not look so vast and mighty to men who had everything to fight for. Their Lady... her son. Their Lord, the Knight-Templar of Arawn.
As I was young, and foolish, I led the charge. Asmodeus expected that, and had a powerful gift in store for me. I carved through their vanguard, killing man after man. And suddenly, there were no more men. Just a stench, of brimstone and death... and a four-armed creature at least twelve feet tall. It's demonic fangs glistening as it grinned and twirled four scimitars, it's armor made of human bones covered in demonic runes. I could read some of them... and nothing the armor said was pleasant. "King-Slayer" "Queen-Defiler" "Agony". Titles, or ranks of some sort. Two of my friends, from the 173, charged it, protecting their friend, their Lord. The demon cut them in half, then took their heads before their bodies hit the ground. Something happened to me then.
I did not know then, what had overcome me. But the demon's grin... faded. An expression of fear, and anxiety covered it's face. It turned and ran, and this is where my memory has faded to black. My men would not tell me what had happened. But there were corpses... corpses torn apart. By tooth and nail, and by a blademaster's blade. The demon's throat was ripped out... and three arms cut off. I am a blademaster... but not of that sort of speed or power. And the throat that was ripped out... was by teeth.
I remember throwing up... and wiping blood off my lips. Putrid flesh and gore was at my feet. And I knew then... I knew that Azadon had saved me by putting me back together with a demon's soul. I knew why that agony was so fierce, so searing. And I sat in dumb shock. We had won the battle, but that could not have possibly even been a tenth of his army. Our losses were light. This was only an assasination attempt. But Asmodeus had warlocks that could summon demons... and command them. There would be no safe haven in Chantico ever again.
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Post by simplyKATEY. on Jun 30, 2007 13:00:55 GMT -5
Again, my writing has been put to shame. This is the best chapter so far. I read it twice. Its very enticing and everything balances. Keep it up.
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Post by erebus on Jun 30, 2007 13:16:29 GMT -5
<Armok sighs> That was one of the best and worst weeks of my life, wrapped together. My first-born... and the first time my demon overwhelmed me. The next three years were moderately peaceful. I roamed our kingdom with Elric and Katriana, raising morale and visiting towns that seldom even got news of the world. I trained in nature lore and tracking with dark elf rangers and druids, and I learned to fight with two weapons from a blind man in a back-water city. He also taught me how to fight without my eyes, by hearing alone.
And then, one day, I was summoned to the High Court of Te'yon. High-King Mo'gor was out on a hunting expedition, and his son was left in charge. The petty boy wanted to show me off to his pretties, a Knight-Templar at his beck and call. But duty bound me. I left Katriana and Elric with hugs and kisses, then I went to Te'yon. What was waiting for me there was destiny.
Upon stepping off my dropship, I was arrested. There were no charges, I was merely shackled. I was dragged to the High Court, clad in my snow-white platemail with silver gilding and my pure white cloak, my helmet under one arm and hands chained together in front of me. My sword and dagger were removed. The little Prince sat in his father's chair, Asmodeus at his side with a hostile grin. I will never forget what the boy said.
"This is it? He killed your brother, Asmodeus?" "Yes, your majesty. He brutally murdered my brother, and send me the hacked remains" "Do you have proof of your allegations?" "Indeed. Bring in the corpse."
Some mangled farmer in a sack. Not the blademaster that I had fought years before. I told the Prince that the charge was ridiculous, and that we had been defending our kingdom. He laughed, then spit in my face. I was to be stripped of my ranks and my titles, and banished to some backwater country called Darkmoor on Earth. I laughed at the Prince, and told him that when his father came home, his head would decorate the spikes on the walls of my garden.
That was when Asmodeus laughed and told me by the time the King returned, I would have no garden... nor son. My armor was taken from me, and at least a dozen of Asmodeus' cronies beat me. I had more bruises than a leapard has spots on it's beautiful coat. I was thrown into a pit dug in the dungeon. Damp, dark, and full of hatred... and maggot-riddled corpses.
Something strange happened in those shadows. I heard things. Whispers, voices. For the longest time, I feared for my sanity. But then, I realized. They were talking... and they were talking to me. The shadows spoke to me, and tried to comfort me. They cradled me in warmth, and scared away any rat or spider that came too near. In two weeks, my bruises were gone, my bones mended. The shadows spoke... and I understood. The guards at the pit were laughing one day, pissing down, hoping to hit me.
That was when I cleared my throat. Both of them started and swore, and turned, trying to draw swords. They didn't realize I was holding both of their blades in either hand. I killed them both, and then I walked away.
I didn't go after vengeance like some holy paladin on a crusade. I stayed quiet, got on a dropship, and went home. My men had been brutally murdered, so there was no point in staying. My friends at Te'yon were mute and few. And when I arrived home, my country was at war.
I walked for three days from the Spaceport to the capital. Brigands and bandits avoided me like they would avoid the plague. After I killed forty seven of them when they tried to overwhelm me. Rumors spread through Asmodeus' army of a shadow-cloaked wraith of vengeance. And I suppose it was true. Word had reached me that Katriana was sick, and she believed I was dead. Elric had been hurt by a demon and was resting in bed. A group of winged fiends had attacked the castle itself. They had been killed, but many of the castle staff had fled. The country was falling apart.
All the nations around Chantico had allied with Asmodeus. There were more enemies then there were blades of grass left in all of Chantico. But numbers mean little when you are a desperate man trying to get to his family.
When I arrived at our estates outside of Tlaxon, the capital of Chantico, Katriana was on her deathbed. She had given birth to our daughter, and she smiled at me weakly when I held her hand, tears running down my cheeks. That was the first time I had cried since my parents died. Enemies stormed the estate grounds as I held her hand and prayed for her soul, for Arawn to guide her to a peaceful oblivion. As she died, the door to her chambers were kicked open. Four men with axes and maces grinned when they saw some poor man sitting there in ruined clothes.
One said " 'ey now, laddie. We're gonna want a go at her too". The rest of his words were lost on me. When I stood, I embraced my demon. I embraced the burning, seething fires of hatred, fury, pain. Agony. Misery. I would teach my enemies despair if it meant my own death. These fools would learn to fear the wind, and the screams that she carried on her invisble wings.
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Post by simplyKATEY. on Jun 30, 2007 13:23:01 GMT -5
o.o;;
Still very good
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Post by Affinity on Jun 30, 2007 13:33:46 GMT -5
I love waffles =D
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Post by simplyKATEY. on Jun 30, 2007 13:36:32 GMT -5
XD I heart you Cinni
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Post by erebus on Jul 1, 2007 18:24:30 GMT -5
<Armok stares ahead, into the distance, seeing things that no man should ever see, that few had ever seen> I must think of how to put this in words that you can understand. I mean no disrespect, it is just... a transcendent feeling. Or, whatever word there is for something that is more hellish than heavenly.
The feeling of giving oneself to a demon is the same as the feeling of surrendering your body to the peaceful serenity that is required to float on your back in a body of water. Only, instead of a calm, gentle pond... it is a raging inferno of flaming hatred and agony. You surrender yourself, but instead of floating... your body is ripped apart.
My bone structure changed. Thickened. Muscles grew more solid, and more dangerous. My fingers became more like claws, and I had four wicked fangs. My steel colored eyes darkened to a dull jet, and my hair flowed like blood. I was menace incarnated. In my eyes was reflected the certainty of an inevitable death by my hands, teeth, or whatever other weapon was at hand. Black fire of shadows danced on my shoulders and down my powerful arms.
Two of the four men shot their crossbows. I give them honor for their ... courage ... and I laugh at their ignorance. Two thick, armor-piercing bolts thudded into my chest. I remember that, because I didn't feel pain. I felt fury and rage boil from the wounds. The metal in my chest sizzled, and I looked down at them. Then I looked back up at the four men whom were planning to rape my deceased wife.
That was the day that I learned that within every man, no matter how noble or brave, there is a creature. A creature that is fueled by fear, and hatred, and pain. A creature that bides its time, and waits for release. Only, unlike most men, I had a creature of fire and brimstone.
Looking at my own reflection When suddenly it changes Violently it changes (oh no) There is no turning back now You've woken up the demon in me
The first step I took was the most delicious step I had ever taken. Every muscle and bone in my body screamed vengeance, for me to rip them apart and dance in their blood.
The world is a scary place Now that you've woken up the demon in me
I punched the first man in the chest. His sternum splintered, and I think I crushed his heart. He crumpled and made the most sickening noise I had ever heard. The man with the shaggy red beard, he was the one whom had spoken. He tried to cut me with a knife. I splintered every bone in his wrist, then made him stab himself in the gut. I tossed him aside like a ragdoll, and then I tore the other two men apart as well.
I smelled smoke. They were burning the estates, but I didn't care then. My only thoughts were of my daughter and my son. And, as odd and coincidental as this may sound, that was when I heard my son crying. I shouldered through the second story wall and landing on my feet. In front of me stood a horrifying sight. Elric was being tossed around between three men with blades. And off to the side, my daughter was laying in her crib... and a man stood over her with a grenade. Rage filled me hotter than the sun. I took a step towards them... and then, it felt as if all the weight of the world fell upon my shoulders.
White chains fell on my shoulders and bore me to the ground. Two High-Archons of Arawn stood to either side of me, shaking their heads. A demon in their ranks. How disgusting. Several men growled, seeing the blood all over me. Several men began beating me with maces and clubs. And it hurt, those blessed weapons did. This was the first time Arawn betrayed me... or perhaps, he just chose to sunder the steel and reforge it?
One of the Priests, a woman, lifted my chin. She made me stare at my son... and she laughed when I whimpered as three men slid theirs words into him. Each man ripped their sword out... then impaled him again. And again.
Did you know that demons can cry? Because I sobbed. Oh, Gods above, I sobbed. Until a maul nearly shattered my face. Then I growled... and something human in me died. I made a request. "Banish me back to the depths, but do not touch my daughter. Please... I beg of you. Spare the innocent from the sins of her father." The Priestess laughed, then she spit on me. She grabbed a handful of my hair... and dragged me towards the crib. She wrapped us in a silvery shield of energy... and then the man dropped a live grenade on my beautiful newborn daughter.
Why is it like that? My words have gone unheard Things I meant to say, are lost never to be heard. I loved you and now miss you All my tears are now falling for my lost words. I hope your happy where you are, rest in peace Regret
The day of reckoning is now at hand, we will miss you Until the end of time, my hope is that you're free Your new home I feel is good for you Though I wish we could speak one last time. Things neglected now seem so far away I hope you can forgive me for what I had not said Are you happy for this pain I feel. will I remember? Yes I will, I will see you one day. So rest in peace, good bye I will not forget the joy You brought. Your spirit is now endless No more pain
Something happened. I will never pretend to know, but the holy chains binding the demonic essence that were my mantle... crumbled. Both of the Priests, high above me in the cosmic foodchain... screamed. They frantically gestured for the soldiers to kill me, and frantically drew weapons.
The shackles on my wrists... they snapped like rusted iron. When I laughed... and this may sound strange, but I swear on my hope of not burning in the nine hells for eternity... when I laughed, the grass around me wilted. The beautiful flowers in our gardens drooped and decayed. The Priests wielded the lightning of Arawn, and the flame. It hit me hard... and slid off me like rain on glass.
I clenched a fist... and then opened it. Hovering over my palm... was hellfire. And dancing around that ball of molten hell was blackness darker than any shadow man had ever experienced. Where it hit the Priestess... it charred her clothing away. Her flesh was left pale and smooth, and her nipple showed where the left half of her tunic was gone. But her eyes... they went wide. And she screamed a terrible, heart-wrenching scream. And then she just... fell over. I still do not know how I did that, and I have never done it since... but I damned her soul to whatever demon the one I was answered to.
The second High-Archon decided to run. He made it four steps before six balls of molten darkness punched holes through his body. Then... I screamed. I didn't know then what I know now... but when I screamed, I unleashed the true Wind of Death. Gusts sharper than any razor rippled from me... and hellfire roared out of every pore. Laced with it was silver and black and crimson lightning, and shadowfyre colder than any depth of the ocean. In a three mile diameter around the estates... there was only a charred crater.
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Post by simplyKATEY. on Jul 1, 2007 18:30:22 GMT -5
o.o;;; Oh dear. Still very good ^^ Keep it up *thumbs up*
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Post by Affinity on Jul 1, 2007 18:35:45 GMT -5
it made me sad v.v and teary eyed
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Post by Achtung Katie™ on Jul 1, 2007 18:37:30 GMT -5
;_;
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Post by erebus on Jul 1, 2007 22:10:27 GMT -5
<Armok looks at his clenched fist, and then takes several deep breaths. He sighs, then closes his eyes before speaking again> I had become a ... well, I was a theory of Arawn's. You see, a brilliant idea came to the God one day... the idea of fighting evil with evil. Tame a demon, and use him to slaughter that which opposes and defies you.
A good idea, except for his hesitation. Because of that hesitation, my family died. And I had to watch it happen, and feel it happen. I will never forget. Not tomorrow, not in a week. Not in ten years, not in ten thousand years. Because that forged me into the man that is my foundation today. I walked to the Spaceport with refugees and survivors, and none asked any questions.
A shambling mass of humanity arrived, ready to flee to greener pastures. All of them, except for me. I had a purpose. Oh, Gods above, I had a purpose. It made my heart beat, and my lungs fill with oxygen. I was set to kill. Every muscle was rigid to the point of pain. I was focused, and I was ready. Security was heavy when I got to the Te'yon spaceport. I enjoyed being chained, and beaten. I was in ecstacy when they threw me onto my knees in front of old High-King Mo'gor.
And then, I saw the smug bastard. Asmodeus stood beside the Princeling, a smirk on his face. And I stood. I popped my neck... and then I snapped the titanium chains binding my arms together. I pointed at him, and I stated my accusations. The Court let out a universal gasp... then they laughed with Asmodeus when he laughed. The High-King coughed out for silence, and the court grew quiet. He asked me if I knew what I was accusing Asmodeus of.
My answer was ... simple. "I know every shadow in that beast's closet, every evil deed he's committed in the darkness. I know every lie, and I've heard every scream. I held my wife's hand as she died... and I saw my children brutally slaughtered by his corrupt Archons."
Naturally, Asmodeus denied the charges. And when High-King Mo'gor asked his son's opinion, the lapdog said that I was a liar. And then, Asmodeus tossed an ace from his sleeve. He called me a demon, and demanded that a Priest test my blood. How could I deny it? So I spared them the test.
I cut my palm with a talon... and let my black-tinted blood hiss on the beautifully gilded marble tile. I growled at the hundreds of weapons suddenly bared and directed at me. I was only the man... that this nation had made me. Betrayed. Broken. Enraged. Forged in the fires of hatred and agony. Asmodeus gestured, and a hundred men stepped towards me with bared steel.
The High-King raised a hand. Everyone lowered their weapons. The King pointed at me. "You served... me well, Armok of Azadon. But... this is unacceptable. You are... banished. Banished to your estates in Darkmoor, stripped of land and title of all but Dark- Darkmoor. Leave n-now, or die."
===
So now, friend, there are only two years between where I started, and where I just ended. Excited? <Armok chuckles, then sits on the railing, gazing up at the moon and stars> It's beautiful out here. I've come up here as long as I can remember, just to... be. The peaceful abandon and beautiful serenity. Odd that a demon has such a ... human side? <Armok smiles, running a hand through his black and crimson hair> Well, I owe you a story, and you are an excellent listener my friend.
===
A new sort of weapon had come to our galaxy. Great, mechanical warriors called Mechs were now used in all major military deployments. I was the best pilot we had within days. In a week, I could fight with the best of them, and after a month I was a one man squadron. Te'yon was having a massive civil war... and despite seven factions vying for power after Mo'gor's death... or assassination, some would say... they had declared war on my mercenary company for some incursion or other.
I offered to lead Alpha and Delta Squadrons into the heart of the war. And I was chosen, simply for the fact that I was dumb enough to volunteer and crazy enough to survive... and win.
=-=-=
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Post by simplyKATEY. on Jul 1, 2007 22:15:33 GMT -5
ooooo *demands more* ^^ I really like the story. It all fits together and it flows. Keep eet up.
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Post by Affinity on Jul 1, 2007 22:17:28 GMT -5
i tried thinking of something random ...but nothing came to mind for once...
beautiful story..wonderfully written...continue with it love =D
It is the most enjoyable read I have had in weeks upon weeks...^^
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Post by Bitter Suite on Jul 1, 2007 22:21:58 GMT -5
It's canon, and very good.
Very interesting also, hard to lose focus while reading.
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