Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Fine. (read: Fine.)
Apocalypse NES
- Thread starter Warman17
- Start date
das
Regeneration In Process
Michel de Bordeaux was born on the 29th of December in the year 1977 Anno Domini, in Toulouse, in a Catholic family. His father was an old soldier in the normal French army, and it was only by accident that Michel became a paladin. He was a good friend of Henri de Villiers, who secretly came from a long line of paladins and himself continued it. When the Apocalypse had not yet started, but the first signs of trouble appeared and the paladins were called up, Henri - who, like most paladins in the Catholic countries, was ordered to seek out new recruits - persuaded the bored Michel to join their ranks. At first, Michel didn't take all this seriously - though a Catholic in theory, in practice he was an (undeclared, to avoid offending his parents and friends) agnostic. Still, out of curiosity he went along. They travelled to the basement of some old house... and there, Michel for the first time experienced that dogging, primal fear of the supernatural. He saw miracles there, he saw light appear out of nowhere, he saw a cripple's burnt wounds (apparently, he ran into one of the demon scouting parties) heal... he saw an angel, who, after healing the cripple, gave them a briefing and then had them teleported away to Israel.
There, as soon as the angel disappeared, Michel went openly hysteric, demanding that he be brought back to France. Most of the paladins in the vast barrack he wounded up in ignored him, the others laughed. Only later, Henri explained to him that there was no going back. "But what about my parents?!" - asked Michel. "Oh, they're probably doomed." - explained Henri reassuringly. Michel just starred at him, and then Henri pointed him to his digital wristwatch. It showed the date: 06-05-30.
"But what does that mean..." - started Michel, and then was once more paralyzed by fear, for angels begun arriving. And amongst them, a huge, powerful one, an archangel. Michael. Supreme Commander of the Heavenly Ground Force in the Meggido Theatre.
Days passed by like years, but gradually, though Michel still did not understand much of what was going on, he did become a paladin. He learned to fight with a sword, he remembered all prayers and learned to bless, to assist in healing and in exorcisms. And gradually, he even learned to not fear angels - humans can get used to just about everything over time. He still was very easily intimidated by Archangel Michael's very presence, though.
Just as he got used to the side that he was going to fight on, and even to the fact that his parents were already slain (they had no TV here, but the angels did tell them what was happening, did explain that the demons were running loose, and wherever there weren't enough angels to counteract them they came out victorious, like in France), a new shock came, for Michel finally figured out the meaning of Henri's gesture. That was because one night as they were coming back from particularily long training, Henri showed him the time on his wristwatch of which he never got rid. Before anything else, Michel noticed the date. 06/06/06. Armaggedon was about to begin.
Michel didn't sleep at all that night. Even when his body actually begun craving for sleep despite all, he subdued it because he was afraid to see nightmares. Instead, he begun inadvertly scaring himself while conscious, by thinking of what awaited him, of the final clash between good and evil...
Not at all the final, as it later turned out. Only the first direct clash in millenias. Well, maybe not the first... The best analogy to the Battle of Armaggedon would be the First Battle of the Marne in WWI. Yes, it certainly was only a beggining. And what a beginning it was.
---
In the beginning, there was the small town of Megiddo, and near it was a hilly terrain overlooking the Plain of Esdraelon. And Archangel Michael did climb upon the nearest hill, which was called Har Megiddo. And he did look through a looking glass at the approaching demonic hordes, vast in numbers and hideous in sight. And he did lick his lips. And he did declare: "This is a good position. Let us make our stance here." And he did add after a moment of hesitation: "Start deploying the artillery."
And verily the position was good, and as sanctified shells fell on the ground of the valley, the casualties of the approaching demon-wave were high indeed.
But the demons gave up not; rallied they around a rider on a white horse, by the name of Effef, whom enemies and followers alike called the Antichrist. And he did send out flying demons to bombard enemy artillery and pinpoint its position for him, so that his own artillery may commence with the counter-battery fire. And he did order a flank attack that seized the city of Umm el Fahm, threatening the angelic communications and supply route. And while Archangel Michael tried to deal with this threat to his army's rear, Effef did lead a mighty charge that took the town of Megiddo and from there commenced an assault upon the Har.
And then the real meatgrinder did verily begin...
Michel de Bordeaux was not the only one who did not sleep, far from it. There was scarcely any need for the angels to wake anybody up; almost all the paladins jumped up as one upon the first alarm, dressed, armed and went for a quick briefing, which was cut down to "We are going to fight now" in the end due to an emergency - the angelic officer corps, though well-drilled, didn't conduct a single military operation half the size of this one for millenias now, and thus the angelic activity during the Battle at Har Megiddo was quite chaotic and frenzied. Then several portals opened, and Michel de Bordeaux like the rest of his comrades withotu a single thought ran into the portal... and appeared on a hill. Around him were fellow paladins, a great force of them. Around them were angels, and the further they were from Michel, the higher they were in rank. And finally, towering above them all was Archangel Michael.
Michel felt fear. But it did not yet come. He didn't fear the Archangel as much as he feared what he saw seconds later. A horde of demons. All sorts of them. Hideous, disgusting beings they were. Michel didn't feel anything but fear; it paralyzed him utterly, he couldn't even breath; neither could he think, but even then he FEELED that he would soon collapse...
He was saved by Archangel Michael. All of the paladins were saved in a way. Michael ordered with a thunder-like voice: "FORMATION!!!" And his army did form - automatically, by reflex, not by mind. Angels took their places as commanding officers, but there didn't seem to be much use for them yet, as Michael continued giving out orders - this time, more specific ones.
Michel stared at the approaching demons dumbly, trying not to think lest he be strangled by fear again. He expelled all the thoughts from his head as he awaited the clash. He observed coldly, passionlessly, thoughtlessly as demons charged, as explosions of light tore gaps in their ranks, as new demons came up to take their place... And he waited, waited for orders. At one point, he heard the flight of wings above him. He did not look away, nor did he do so when behind his back, agonied yells and the sound of an explosion came, only shook alittle due to the explosion's impact. Away from him, his namesake the Archangel gave out orders, sent out squadrons of angels to kick the demons out of the sky... Above him fighting commenced, but it had nothing to do with him yet.
And ahead, demons marched and marched to their death. From behind his back, lightning flied as angels fired beams of holy light to kill the most lucky and persistant demons. And they came coming; if anything, there seemed to be more of them now, as, after all, the artillery fire died down.
These demons were horrible. The most horrible thing about them was their variety. Some had tentacles, others - wings, third ones - horns, some had everything. Some were small, others large, some flied, some crawled, but most of them walked, ran, charged, and did so ever faster... especially as a human being rode up to them. It was a handsome, strangely-pale man on a while horse; dressed in black armour, he did stand out even amongst the darker-skinned of demons, for he indeed was a human, or seemed very much like one, and still did have pale, visible skin. He was ordering something. He was making them go faster, Michel realized... and immediately, froze, though he did not move before neither. The dam was blown; thoughts streamed rapidly. It was the Antichrist ahead of him. And around him, hideous demons, at whom Michel now stared wide-eyed, as if he did not observe them for an hour now.
He froze just in time, for Archangel Michael gave out a new order. "CHAAARGE!!!"
"MICHAEL!!!" - the angels let out their battlecries, and charged forth. The paladins charged after them, clearly overcome by fear, but none as much as Michel de Bordeaux.
They drew swords, and cut in all directions, giving no heed nor thought, for had they done so many of them would have fainted. They didn't look at their disgusting, horrifying opponents; they only looked at their own swords, and at the weapons and limbs of their enemies, again taking great care to not study them, but only to remember their location and track their movements to parry the enemy attacks; to beat the enemy swords out of their limbs; to severe these limbs from enemy bodies. And just to cut, cut, cut, hoping to kill or injure an enemy and instinctively praying... not for the safety of their cormades or themselves, but for the death of the demons.
The angels and paladins charged, cutting their way through the demonic horde, which begun stumbling, retreating... breaking and routing.
Then through the deafening sound of battle, a single sound came, the groan of a dying demon... slain by the Antichrist, as everybody thought without any ground behind this theory other than the simple fact that indeed it was the truth.
Demons stopped running and begun attacking again, and more, and more of them came, from all directions. They also killed like maniacs, attacking with everything they could use to attack, as did the angels and the paladins - there was no time for niceties now. A very short demon tried to attack Michel; later, after the battle, he had suddenly realized that it was only the upper half of a demon, but back then he merely trampled it with his feet, and went on. He was bleeding ofcourse, but that was as fine... He continued to slash, and cut, and parry, and strike, and main, and kill, kill, kill... And he quite sincerely suspected that he was shouting "MICHAEL!!!" during this time, as did all the other paladins who survived the battle.
Then suddenly, his sword disappeared somewhere and he himself flew backwards, hitting the ground. Not feeling any pain, he tried to stand up, and fell over again. Before his eyes was a tiny, disgusting, snickering imp. And as Michel tried to throw it off from himself, as he tried to strangle it... he suddenly went limp.
When Michel was a small child, he was very, very afraid of bees. It was the same, as he had noticed over time, with paranormal things, especially those that he didn't get used to yet. He did not get used to the imp and never would have to, as eventually, he somehow managed to kill it, and crawled away, still shuddering and trembling. Around him, the angelic army was slowly, but surely dying, unable to throw off the imp of a huge demonic army that the Antichrist had hurled at it. It still struggled, but the pockets of resistance were being surrounded and crushed, and though the demonic casualties were heavy, the Antichrist just kept hurling more and more troops into the fray, both in the valley and on to the hill, while Archangel Michael, himself with a few higher angels choosing to lead the final stance, bellowed "FALL BACK!!! TO THE PORTALS!!!"
Michel crawled away, not looking back, but trying to escape, escape from this slaughter, escape from Death...
---
Back then, he avoided Death's scythe, and although wounded he managed to limp back to a portal. But a few days ago, he once more met Death - the Death of Henri de Villiers, and of Ali Mubayyid, the man who killed Henri. That Death claimed their lives, but did not go away after that. And just like in the beginning of his training, and then during that patrol, and, ofcourse, during the Battle at Har Megiddo, fear grasped Michel, the strongest fear that he had ever experienced. Death approached. But it did not come for him. It came for his fear, and for the fear of the entire Ibrahim/Abraham Paladin Division, now renamed quite simply and precisely into Azrael's Division, for the Death now took charge personally; Faid Chamoun now became something like a vice-commander.
There was no more fear. And now, when Michel de Bordeaux looked back on his life, on these all-powerful moments of pure, unbrindled fear... he didn't laugh. He simply didn't understand it, didn't want to understand it and didn't have to neither. Why was he afraid back then, when he first saw an angel? That angel was on their side, he healed people... so that they could fight the demons. Why did Michael frighten him? He was not as good as Azrael, but he still was a commander, he still was on their side. He led them to battle with the demons. And why did he, Michel de Bordeaux, fear the demons, why was he afraid of that imp that attacked him? It could evoke disgust, hatred... but not fear. Not anymore.
And why was he scared by the battle, which - now that fear was removed - now seemed to be the happiest, greatest moment in his life? What was frightening in the pump of adrenaline, the clash of enchanted weaponry, the rain of lead, a demon's sword at one's neck and one's sword within the demon's bowels? Nothing. And Michel de Bordeaux, who lost his fear, gained in exchange a different sin - lust, lust for war, lust for a close, bloody melee, lust for battle. And nothing gave him greater comfort than the knowledge that the war was only beginning, that Azrael himself was going to lead them to battle after battle, that already, the enemy forces drew near, already, the first skirmishes took place...
Already, orders were given for Azrael's Division to assemble and prepare for a forced march, on full battle readiness.
There, as soon as the angel disappeared, Michel went openly hysteric, demanding that he be brought back to France. Most of the paladins in the vast barrack he wounded up in ignored him, the others laughed. Only later, Henri explained to him that there was no going back. "But what about my parents?!" - asked Michel. "Oh, they're probably doomed." - explained Henri reassuringly. Michel just starred at him, and then Henri pointed him to his digital wristwatch. It showed the date: 06-05-30.
"But what does that mean..." - started Michel, and then was once more paralyzed by fear, for angels begun arriving. And amongst them, a huge, powerful one, an archangel. Michael. Supreme Commander of the Heavenly Ground Force in the Meggido Theatre.
Days passed by like years, but gradually, though Michel still did not understand much of what was going on, he did become a paladin. He learned to fight with a sword, he remembered all prayers and learned to bless, to assist in healing and in exorcisms. And gradually, he even learned to not fear angels - humans can get used to just about everything over time. He still was very easily intimidated by Archangel Michael's very presence, though.
Just as he got used to the side that he was going to fight on, and even to the fact that his parents were already slain (they had no TV here, but the angels did tell them what was happening, did explain that the demons were running loose, and wherever there weren't enough angels to counteract them they came out victorious, like in France), a new shock came, for Michel finally figured out the meaning of Henri's gesture. That was because one night as they were coming back from particularily long training, Henri showed him the time on his wristwatch of which he never got rid. Before anything else, Michel noticed the date. 06/06/06. Armaggedon was about to begin.
Michel didn't sleep at all that night. Even when his body actually begun craving for sleep despite all, he subdued it because he was afraid to see nightmares. Instead, he begun inadvertly scaring himself while conscious, by thinking of what awaited him, of the final clash between good and evil...
Not at all the final, as it later turned out. Only the first direct clash in millenias. Well, maybe not the first... The best analogy to the Battle of Armaggedon would be the First Battle of the Marne in WWI. Yes, it certainly was only a beggining. And what a beginning it was.
---
In the beginning, there was the small town of Megiddo, and near it was a hilly terrain overlooking the Plain of Esdraelon. And Archangel Michael did climb upon the nearest hill, which was called Har Megiddo. And he did look through a looking glass at the approaching demonic hordes, vast in numbers and hideous in sight. And he did lick his lips. And he did declare: "This is a good position. Let us make our stance here." And he did add after a moment of hesitation: "Start deploying the artillery."
And verily the position was good, and as sanctified shells fell on the ground of the valley, the casualties of the approaching demon-wave were high indeed.
But the demons gave up not; rallied they around a rider on a white horse, by the name of Effef, whom enemies and followers alike called the Antichrist. And he did send out flying demons to bombard enemy artillery and pinpoint its position for him, so that his own artillery may commence with the counter-battery fire. And he did order a flank attack that seized the city of Umm el Fahm, threatening the angelic communications and supply route. And while Archangel Michael tried to deal with this threat to his army's rear, Effef did lead a mighty charge that took the town of Megiddo and from there commenced an assault upon the Har.
And then the real meatgrinder did verily begin...
Michel de Bordeaux was not the only one who did not sleep, far from it. There was scarcely any need for the angels to wake anybody up; almost all the paladins jumped up as one upon the first alarm, dressed, armed and went for a quick briefing, which was cut down to "We are going to fight now" in the end due to an emergency - the angelic officer corps, though well-drilled, didn't conduct a single military operation half the size of this one for millenias now, and thus the angelic activity during the Battle at Har Megiddo was quite chaotic and frenzied. Then several portals opened, and Michel de Bordeaux like the rest of his comrades withotu a single thought ran into the portal... and appeared on a hill. Around him were fellow paladins, a great force of them. Around them were angels, and the further they were from Michel, the higher they were in rank. And finally, towering above them all was Archangel Michael.
Michel felt fear. But it did not yet come. He didn't fear the Archangel as much as he feared what he saw seconds later. A horde of demons. All sorts of them. Hideous, disgusting beings they were. Michel didn't feel anything but fear; it paralyzed him utterly, he couldn't even breath; neither could he think, but even then he FEELED that he would soon collapse...
He was saved by Archangel Michael. All of the paladins were saved in a way. Michael ordered with a thunder-like voice: "FORMATION!!!" And his army did form - automatically, by reflex, not by mind. Angels took their places as commanding officers, but there didn't seem to be much use for them yet, as Michael continued giving out orders - this time, more specific ones.
Michel stared at the approaching demons dumbly, trying not to think lest he be strangled by fear again. He expelled all the thoughts from his head as he awaited the clash. He observed coldly, passionlessly, thoughtlessly as demons charged, as explosions of light tore gaps in their ranks, as new demons came up to take their place... And he waited, waited for orders. At one point, he heard the flight of wings above him. He did not look away, nor did he do so when behind his back, agonied yells and the sound of an explosion came, only shook alittle due to the explosion's impact. Away from him, his namesake the Archangel gave out orders, sent out squadrons of angels to kick the demons out of the sky... Above him fighting commenced, but it had nothing to do with him yet.
And ahead, demons marched and marched to their death. From behind his back, lightning flied as angels fired beams of holy light to kill the most lucky and persistant demons. And they came coming; if anything, there seemed to be more of them now, as, after all, the artillery fire died down.
These demons were horrible. The most horrible thing about them was their variety. Some had tentacles, others - wings, third ones - horns, some had everything. Some were small, others large, some flied, some crawled, but most of them walked, ran, charged, and did so ever faster... especially as a human being rode up to them. It was a handsome, strangely-pale man on a while horse; dressed in black armour, he did stand out even amongst the darker-skinned of demons, for he indeed was a human, or seemed very much like one, and still did have pale, visible skin. He was ordering something. He was making them go faster, Michel realized... and immediately, froze, though he did not move before neither. The dam was blown; thoughts streamed rapidly. It was the Antichrist ahead of him. And around him, hideous demons, at whom Michel now stared wide-eyed, as if he did not observe them for an hour now.
He froze just in time, for Archangel Michael gave out a new order. "CHAAARGE!!!"
"MICHAEL!!!" - the angels let out their battlecries, and charged forth. The paladins charged after them, clearly overcome by fear, but none as much as Michel de Bordeaux.
They drew swords, and cut in all directions, giving no heed nor thought, for had they done so many of them would have fainted. They didn't look at their disgusting, horrifying opponents; they only looked at their own swords, and at the weapons and limbs of their enemies, again taking great care to not study them, but only to remember their location and track their movements to parry the enemy attacks; to beat the enemy swords out of their limbs; to severe these limbs from enemy bodies. And just to cut, cut, cut, hoping to kill or injure an enemy and instinctively praying... not for the safety of their cormades or themselves, but for the death of the demons.
The angels and paladins charged, cutting their way through the demonic horde, which begun stumbling, retreating... breaking and routing.
Then through the deafening sound of battle, a single sound came, the groan of a dying demon... slain by the Antichrist, as everybody thought without any ground behind this theory other than the simple fact that indeed it was the truth.
Demons stopped running and begun attacking again, and more, and more of them came, from all directions. They also killed like maniacs, attacking with everything they could use to attack, as did the angels and the paladins - there was no time for niceties now. A very short demon tried to attack Michel; later, after the battle, he had suddenly realized that it was only the upper half of a demon, but back then he merely trampled it with his feet, and went on. He was bleeding ofcourse, but that was as fine... He continued to slash, and cut, and parry, and strike, and main, and kill, kill, kill... And he quite sincerely suspected that he was shouting "MICHAEL!!!" during this time, as did all the other paladins who survived the battle.
Then suddenly, his sword disappeared somewhere and he himself flew backwards, hitting the ground. Not feeling any pain, he tried to stand up, and fell over again. Before his eyes was a tiny, disgusting, snickering imp. And as Michel tried to throw it off from himself, as he tried to strangle it... he suddenly went limp.
When Michel was a small child, he was very, very afraid of bees. It was the same, as he had noticed over time, with paranormal things, especially those that he didn't get used to yet. He did not get used to the imp and never would have to, as eventually, he somehow managed to kill it, and crawled away, still shuddering and trembling. Around him, the angelic army was slowly, but surely dying, unable to throw off the imp of a huge demonic army that the Antichrist had hurled at it. It still struggled, but the pockets of resistance were being surrounded and crushed, and though the demonic casualties were heavy, the Antichrist just kept hurling more and more troops into the fray, both in the valley and on to the hill, while Archangel Michael, himself with a few higher angels choosing to lead the final stance, bellowed "FALL BACK!!! TO THE PORTALS!!!"
Michel crawled away, not looking back, but trying to escape, escape from this slaughter, escape from Death...
---
Back then, he avoided Death's scythe, and although wounded he managed to limp back to a portal. But a few days ago, he once more met Death - the Death of Henri de Villiers, and of Ali Mubayyid, the man who killed Henri. That Death claimed their lives, but did not go away after that. And just like in the beginning of his training, and then during that patrol, and, ofcourse, during the Battle at Har Megiddo, fear grasped Michel, the strongest fear that he had ever experienced. Death approached. But it did not come for him. It came for his fear, and for the fear of the entire Ibrahim/Abraham Paladin Division, now renamed quite simply and precisely into Azrael's Division, for the Death now took charge personally; Faid Chamoun now became something like a vice-commander.
There was no more fear. And now, when Michel de Bordeaux looked back on his life, on these all-powerful moments of pure, unbrindled fear... he didn't laugh. He simply didn't understand it, didn't want to understand it and didn't have to neither. Why was he afraid back then, when he first saw an angel? That angel was on their side, he healed people... so that they could fight the demons. Why did Michael frighten him? He was not as good as Azrael, but he still was a commander, he still was on their side. He led them to battle with the demons. And why did he, Michel de Bordeaux, fear the demons, why was he afraid of that imp that attacked him? It could evoke disgust, hatred... but not fear. Not anymore.
And why was he scared by the battle, which - now that fear was removed - now seemed to be the happiest, greatest moment in his life? What was frightening in the pump of adrenaline, the clash of enchanted weaponry, the rain of lead, a demon's sword at one's neck and one's sword within the demon's bowels? Nothing. And Michel de Bordeaux, who lost his fear, gained in exchange a different sin - lust, lust for war, lust for a close, bloody melee, lust for battle. And nothing gave him greater comfort than the knowledge that the war was only beginning, that Azrael himself was going to lead them to battle after battle, that already, the enemy forces drew near, already, the first skirmishes took place...
Already, orders were given for Azrael's Division to assemble and prepare for a forced march, on full battle readiness.
KrimzonStriker
Master of the Dawn
- Joined
- Oct 3, 2005
- Messages
- 1,933
Nation Name: Argent Raiders
Race: Humans
Economy: Not Bad (+1)
Tier: 1
Army: 8 partisan Divisions
Background: Formed from the broken hearts of the beaten remnants of humanity who witnessed the tragic slaughter of their families, home, and their race, they have given themselves to vengeance. Now they are utterly dedicated to restore the power of humanity, as it should be, and to exterminate the alien abominations known as the Demons and the Angels. They are organized by the savior Jim Raynor, and have based themselves within the ruins of San Francisco and the former territory known as California. From there they plan their rise, fueled by their zealous faith in Raynor and their desire to finally wipe the monstrosities off the face of the Earth, no matter what the cost.
OOC: I’m in, sign me up with these guys as I combine Raynor’s Raiders and the Scarlet Crusade ala pinch of the Argent Dawn through the name just cause their cool.
Race: Humans
Economy: Not Bad (+1)
Tier: 1
Army: 8 partisan Divisions
Background: Formed from the broken hearts of the beaten remnants of humanity who witnessed the tragic slaughter of their families, home, and their race, they have given themselves to vengeance. Now they are utterly dedicated to restore the power of humanity, as it should be, and to exterminate the alien abominations known as the Demons and the Angels. They are organized by the savior Jim Raynor, and have based themselves within the ruins of San Francisco and the former territory known as California. From there they plan their rise, fueled by their zealous faith in Raynor and their desire to finally wipe the monstrosities off the face of the Earth, no matter what the cost.
OOC: I’m in, sign me up with these guys as I combine Raynor’s Raiders and the Scarlet Crusade ala pinch of the Argent Dawn through the name just cause their cool.
Iggy gazed around the building. He was really just visiting, but had become something of a regular in Texas. It was one of those few places where civilization was still intact. That was always nice.
Demons still often prowled around the outskirts of the citys, but Iggy was becoming skilled with his silver plates, at least against relatively minor demons. A bash in the demon's head, and a flick of the wrist, and the creature was decapitated. Assuming it had a head.
Despite what Iggy would often dislike about the Texans (particularly the NRA ones), their 'stereotypical Americanness', he couldn't deny that they were good at getting rid of demons, and that their weaponry was useful. Plus the fact that they had cooperated with him and several others into breaking into an abandoned bank and getting a large supply of silver, mostly used for bullets.
But some extra silver was given to Iggy as a thanks for services rendered. He took it to a retired move prop man he had met recently, and made several useful things out of it. Namely, a sword, some shields, and various other silver trinkets.
Times, while hard, were good. The camaraderie was a comforting thing, helping Iggy keep his mind off of what had become of his family back in the Yukon.
But Iggy's stay in Texas was coming to a close...
*****
"Demon alert! Full security measures!"
"Preparing gates 7 through 12 lockdown."
"Crap! Don't shut the door! I'm almost back!"
Iggy raced along the empty highway towards Austin, wheelbarrow filled with the silver items he had just gotten. The large metal door, recently built in an effort to turn the city into a powerful bastion against the demons, began to slide closed.
"NOO!!!"
Iggy looked back. Demons were closing in from several directions. The door continued its agonizingly slow shutting process. Iggy now let go of the wheelbarrow and began a desperate sprint towards the door. He dove at the bottom-
And crashed into hard metal. Desperately getting up, Iggy ran back to the overturned wheelbarrow. He saw something. A short distance away from the gate was an empty shop. Car dealership.
Iggy flipped the wheelbarrow back up and raced towards the dealership.
"Kia? CRAP!"
Iggy ran past the dealership. On the far side of it was a pickup. Not a Kia. Fortunately.
Iggy reached down for some keys which had fallen to the ground, ignoring the human shaped burn marks on the ground near the keys, or the burns on the truck, with a strange hand-shaped soot shadow on it.
He hoisted the silver load onto the back, and took out a shield. Jumping into the car, he turned the ignition. It was automatic, so Iggy's limited driving experience wouldn't be too much of a problem.
Higher resale value too.
Hitting the gas, Iggy skidded out of the parking lot and onto the highway, running down several demons.
Austin disappeared behind him...
Demons still often prowled around the outskirts of the citys, but Iggy was becoming skilled with his silver plates, at least against relatively minor demons. A bash in the demon's head, and a flick of the wrist, and the creature was decapitated. Assuming it had a head.
Despite what Iggy would often dislike about the Texans (particularly the NRA ones), their 'stereotypical Americanness', he couldn't deny that they were good at getting rid of demons, and that their weaponry was useful. Plus the fact that they had cooperated with him and several others into breaking into an abandoned bank and getting a large supply of silver, mostly used for bullets.
But some extra silver was given to Iggy as a thanks for services rendered. He took it to a retired move prop man he had met recently, and made several useful things out of it. Namely, a sword, some shields, and various other silver trinkets.
Times, while hard, were good. The camaraderie was a comforting thing, helping Iggy keep his mind off of what had become of his family back in the Yukon.
But Iggy's stay in Texas was coming to a close...
*****
"Demon alert! Full security measures!"
"Preparing gates 7 through 12 lockdown."
"Crap! Don't shut the door! I'm almost back!"
Iggy raced along the empty highway towards Austin, wheelbarrow filled with the silver items he had just gotten. The large metal door, recently built in an effort to turn the city into a powerful bastion against the demons, began to slide closed.
"NOO!!!"
Iggy looked back. Demons were closing in from several directions. The door continued its agonizingly slow shutting process. Iggy now let go of the wheelbarrow and began a desperate sprint towards the door. He dove at the bottom-
And crashed into hard metal. Desperately getting up, Iggy ran back to the overturned wheelbarrow. He saw something. A short distance away from the gate was an empty shop. Car dealership.
Iggy flipped the wheelbarrow back up and raced towards the dealership.
"Kia? CRAP!"
Iggy ran past the dealership. On the far side of it was a pickup. Not a Kia. Fortunately.
Iggy reached down for some keys which had fallen to the ground, ignoring the human shaped burn marks on the ground near the keys, or the burns on the truck, with a strange hand-shaped soot shadow on it.
He hoisted the silver load onto the back, and took out a shield. Jumping into the car, he turned the ignition. It was automatic, so Iggy's limited driving experience wouldn't be too much of a problem.
Higher resale value too.
Hitting the gas, Iggy skidded out of the parking lot and onto the highway, running down several demons.
Austin disappeared behind him...
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
The New Crusades
SMOM Regional Corps Headquarters, Lourdes
Situational Dispatch To: SMOM Supreme Command Headquarters, New Jerusalem, Malta
27 March, 2008 Anno Domini (2 Post Armageddon)
Corps Headquarters established. We are glad to report that all primary objectives have been secured. Advancing battalions encountered light demonic resistance upon landing, but increased holy manpower afforded by induction of the Benedictine orders proved effective in destroying enemy forces. After three days light fighting, Forces of Darkness broke into retreat to the west and south.
Capture of Lourdes accomplished without casualty, and the holy site appears to naturally repel demonic infiltration in the same manner as Rome. The Sanctified Area (S.A.) extends in a radius of about thirty kilometers around the Grotto. Positive effects reported from immersing demons in the water include outright dematerialization of the lesser impish orders, and apparent repentance from several higher demonic orders. No capture of demons below the Third Infernic Level has yet been accomplished. All demonic POW's are en route to Gabriel's forces, as per Command's request.
Reception of the Order among former French citizens remains positive, due to the extreme negative effect on Southern France by the demonic incursions, and the collapse of the central Paris government. Negotiations are currently proceeding with Languedoc and Cote D'Azure provinces for integration into the Order; remaining secular institutions continue to be dissolved.
Unless a change in directive is received, Melchior Corps will continue to proceed towards post-Lourdes objectives. Awaiting your acknowledgement.
Your Brother in Christ,
Hospitaller-General Francis Montenarde
Tuitio Fidei et Obsequium Pauperum
---
Southern France
Thirty men moved across an open field, quietly. They'd passed beyond the safe zone, and this was no man's land. An observer from the twentieth century would have thought that there were thirty medics in the platoon...but war had changed. A cross no longer protected you from enemy fire, but it was the only thing that could distinguish friend from foe, these days.
The Lieutenant, originally a deacon from Sicily, led the platoon. Raising his hand, he motioned for the men to stop. They knelt down in the grass, as he pulled out a small radio.
Tuning it, he spoke into the receiver.
“Good Shepherd, this is Simon Peter. Come in Good Shepherd.”
“Roger that Simon Peter, Good Shepherd hears you loud and clear. There is no God.”
“The fool hath said in his heart, ‘There is no God.’”
“Correct. Sorry about the password Lieutenant, just trying to prevent demonic intervention.”
“Don’t worry about it. My current position is about fifteen kilometers southwest of the company base camp. We’re in a large field.”
“Good. Continue to head southwest until you hit the road. Then follow it southwards and establish a position on the hillsides approaching the Pyrenees.”
“Understood.”
“The remainder of the company will be breaking camp, and should reach the area by nightfall. Be on the watch for demonic activity, you’ve moved out of the S.A. range.”
“Understood.”
“May the Lord be with you.”
“And also with you.”
He turned off the radio, and stood up. “Let’s move.”
The Maltese platoon continued to head through the fields of waist-high grain. After a while, they reached the road that the Lieutenant had been told about. It was probably paved once, but a recent cataclysm had, well, unpaved it. As they continued down the way, they passed into another set of fields, a vineyard actually. The men stopped, and stared.
The entire field had been charred and blackened, grape vines withering away to nothingness. In the distance, a thin plume of smoke rose from what appeared to be a burnt building, probably a barn or farmhouse of some sort. Something had been here…
Worried, the Lieutenant turned to the priest accompanying them. Even the priests wore combat fatigues, though they were white, robe-like ones.
“What do you think of this, Father?”
“Ah, I have seen it before. This is demonic work; no warlock or partisans could wither a field in this way. It wasn’t normal fire, you see?” He pointed to a tombstone nearby, its cross untouched by the flames. “Definitely hellfire.”
“At any rate, it seems that there are no demons still here.” Turning to his men, he barked out orders. “Fan out, search for survivors! Be on your guard, there may be demons about.”
---
About a mile away, perching on a dead tree, the three demons sat, munching on something indescribably putrid and disgusting. They cackled to each other, looking at the pathetic human crusaders trying to find them. What fools!
“I say we ambush them,” the first one gurgled. “After all, there is only one holy man, and the rest are fodder.”
“But there are some number,” the second replied. “Don’t forget what happened at Mons.”
The third spat. “Curse Mons! But there are no angels here. Remember the half-dead farmer we were saving for later? We can surprise them there.”
They thought about that, while some of their imps ran off into the forest to kill small animals.
“Yesss…this will be better than Bavaria.”
“Better than Romagna.”
“Better than Acre, even.”
---
“You see that smoke?”
“Yes, coming from the wood to the right.”
“Lieutenant, that’s trademark imp fire.”
“You think so? We can’t be in that much danger if it’s just some imps.”
“Lieutenant, Father Andrews! Do you see that figure over there? It looks like a wounded man!”
They all looked. The soldiers held their positions, waiting for orders. Slowly, the priest and the Lieutenant moved forward. A man lay in the road, with what appeared to be a heavy gash on his forehead, along with several other wounds. A cart lay overturned next to his body.
The two men moved the farmer’s shoulder a little. Apparently he wasn’t dead yet.
“Mon dieu, mon dieu…” It appeared that he was coming around.
Mustering up some French, the priest spoke to the injured civilian. “Qu'est-ce advenu?”
The Frenchman was too tired to grimace at the priest’s butchery of his language. “C’est un cataclysme, c’est le Malebranche!” And the farmer fainted, again.
But now the priest was alert, and worried. “Lieutenant, radio headquarters. We need paladins here now, there may be powerful demons in the area.”
The Lieutenant knew when to take orders. Pulling out his radio, he yelled into the receiver.
“Good Shepherd, this is Simon Peter. We have a potential serious demon problem, requesting immediate assistance! Repeat, requesting immediate assistance!”
“This is Good Shep…..kkkkksskskhhh…” The voice faded away, and the static cut out. Everyone was worried now, as electrical equipment often faded when demonic power approached.
The Lieutenant gathered his platoon. “Men, we have to resist whatever’s coming this way. For the sake of our company, and for Christ. If we fall, then the next to come fall as well. Now set up a defensive line behind this cart!”
The men crouched behind and around the cart, rifles and their single machine gun ready. Soon the priest could see them…and feel the darkness emanating from their bodies. They circled like giant vultures, black leathery wings outstretched. Double-pronged pitchforks they held, not to mention their four arms. There were three, and a small cloud of imps hovering nearby.
“Dear Lord, I had hoped he was wrong. They really are Malebranche.”
“What are Malebranche, Father?”
The priest had no time to answer, because the demons began to dive towards their position.
The Lieutenant pulled out a rifle. “Open fire!”
SMOM Regional Corps Headquarters, Lourdes
Situational Dispatch To: SMOM Supreme Command Headquarters, New Jerusalem, Malta
27 March, 2008 Anno Domini (2 Post Armageddon)
Corps Headquarters established. We are glad to report that all primary objectives have been secured. Advancing battalions encountered light demonic resistance upon landing, but increased holy manpower afforded by induction of the Benedictine orders proved effective in destroying enemy forces. After three days light fighting, Forces of Darkness broke into retreat to the west and south.
Capture of Lourdes accomplished without casualty, and the holy site appears to naturally repel demonic infiltration in the same manner as Rome. The Sanctified Area (S.A.) extends in a radius of about thirty kilometers around the Grotto. Positive effects reported from immersing demons in the water include outright dematerialization of the lesser impish orders, and apparent repentance from several higher demonic orders. No capture of demons below the Third Infernic Level has yet been accomplished. All demonic POW's are en route to Gabriel's forces, as per Command's request.
Reception of the Order among former French citizens remains positive, due to the extreme negative effect on Southern France by the demonic incursions, and the collapse of the central Paris government. Negotiations are currently proceeding with Languedoc and Cote D'Azure provinces for integration into the Order; remaining secular institutions continue to be dissolved.
Unless a change in directive is received, Melchior Corps will continue to proceed towards post-Lourdes objectives. Awaiting your acknowledgement.
Your Brother in Christ,
Hospitaller-General Francis Montenarde
Tuitio Fidei et Obsequium Pauperum
---
Southern France
Thirty men moved across an open field, quietly. They'd passed beyond the safe zone, and this was no man's land. An observer from the twentieth century would have thought that there were thirty medics in the platoon...but war had changed. A cross no longer protected you from enemy fire, but it was the only thing that could distinguish friend from foe, these days.
The Lieutenant, originally a deacon from Sicily, led the platoon. Raising his hand, he motioned for the men to stop. They knelt down in the grass, as he pulled out a small radio.
Tuning it, he spoke into the receiver.
“Good Shepherd, this is Simon Peter. Come in Good Shepherd.”
“Roger that Simon Peter, Good Shepherd hears you loud and clear. There is no God.”
“The fool hath said in his heart, ‘There is no God.’”
“Correct. Sorry about the password Lieutenant, just trying to prevent demonic intervention.”
“Don’t worry about it. My current position is about fifteen kilometers southwest of the company base camp. We’re in a large field.”
“Good. Continue to head southwest until you hit the road. Then follow it southwards and establish a position on the hillsides approaching the Pyrenees.”
“Understood.”
“The remainder of the company will be breaking camp, and should reach the area by nightfall. Be on the watch for demonic activity, you’ve moved out of the S.A. range.”
“Understood.”
“May the Lord be with you.”
“And also with you.”
He turned off the radio, and stood up. “Let’s move.”
The Maltese platoon continued to head through the fields of waist-high grain. After a while, they reached the road that the Lieutenant had been told about. It was probably paved once, but a recent cataclysm had, well, unpaved it. As they continued down the way, they passed into another set of fields, a vineyard actually. The men stopped, and stared.
The entire field had been charred and blackened, grape vines withering away to nothingness. In the distance, a thin plume of smoke rose from what appeared to be a burnt building, probably a barn or farmhouse of some sort. Something had been here…
Worried, the Lieutenant turned to the priest accompanying them. Even the priests wore combat fatigues, though they were white, robe-like ones.
“What do you think of this, Father?”
“Ah, I have seen it before. This is demonic work; no warlock or partisans could wither a field in this way. It wasn’t normal fire, you see?” He pointed to a tombstone nearby, its cross untouched by the flames. “Definitely hellfire.”
“At any rate, it seems that there are no demons still here.” Turning to his men, he barked out orders. “Fan out, search for survivors! Be on your guard, there may be demons about.”
---
About a mile away, perching on a dead tree, the three demons sat, munching on something indescribably putrid and disgusting. They cackled to each other, looking at the pathetic human crusaders trying to find them. What fools!
“I say we ambush them,” the first one gurgled. “After all, there is only one holy man, and the rest are fodder.”
“But there are some number,” the second replied. “Don’t forget what happened at Mons.”
The third spat. “Curse Mons! But there are no angels here. Remember the half-dead farmer we were saving for later? We can surprise them there.”
They thought about that, while some of their imps ran off into the forest to kill small animals.
“Yesss…this will be better than Bavaria.”
“Better than Romagna.”
“Better than Acre, even.”
---
“You see that smoke?”
“Yes, coming from the wood to the right.”
“Lieutenant, that’s trademark imp fire.”
“You think so? We can’t be in that much danger if it’s just some imps.”
“Lieutenant, Father Andrews! Do you see that figure over there? It looks like a wounded man!”
They all looked. The soldiers held their positions, waiting for orders. Slowly, the priest and the Lieutenant moved forward. A man lay in the road, with what appeared to be a heavy gash on his forehead, along with several other wounds. A cart lay overturned next to his body.
The two men moved the farmer’s shoulder a little. Apparently he wasn’t dead yet.
“Mon dieu, mon dieu…” It appeared that he was coming around.
Mustering up some French, the priest spoke to the injured civilian. “Qu'est-ce advenu?”
The Frenchman was too tired to grimace at the priest’s butchery of his language. “C’est un cataclysme, c’est le Malebranche!” And the farmer fainted, again.
But now the priest was alert, and worried. “Lieutenant, radio headquarters. We need paladins here now, there may be powerful demons in the area.”
The Lieutenant knew when to take orders. Pulling out his radio, he yelled into the receiver.
“Good Shepherd, this is Simon Peter. We have a potential serious demon problem, requesting immediate assistance! Repeat, requesting immediate assistance!”
“This is Good Shep…..kkkkksskskhhh…” The voice faded away, and the static cut out. Everyone was worried now, as electrical equipment often faded when demonic power approached.
The Lieutenant gathered his platoon. “Men, we have to resist whatever’s coming this way. For the sake of our company, and for Christ. If we fall, then the next to come fall as well. Now set up a defensive line behind this cart!”
The men crouched behind and around the cart, rifles and their single machine gun ready. Soon the priest could see them…and feel the darkness emanating from their bodies. They circled like giant vultures, black leathery wings outstretched. Double-pronged pitchforks they held, not to mention their four arms. There were three, and a small cloud of imps hovering nearby.
“Dear Lord, I had hoped he was wrong. They really are Malebranche.”
“What are Malebranche, Father?”
The priest had no time to answer, because the demons began to dive towards their position.
The Lieutenant pulled out a rifle. “Open fire!”
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Lord_Iggy said:
The feeling's mutual. Now come to Malta!
Wubba360
Emperor
orders sent! 
KrimzonStriker
Master of the Dawn
- Joined
- Oct 3, 2005
- Messages
- 1,933
Orders sent, all hail the glory of James Jim Raynor!! 
TerrisH
Mischief?
orders away, though simple though they be.
Kentharu
Zebra Commander
Black hands filtered the sands of the great Sahara. Like time, they fell, slowly, grain by grain. And in the sun set they glinted and twinkled. Them, like little diamonds, each with its own glint.
“Bring the warlocks, ready them, we march south towards a river” Said Rado, leader of the Burnt Imps
“The river, ha, water is a blessing to us, why would we go to it” His brother said with a smirk.
“Because it is also a blessing to mankind, and we shall take that blessing and turn it into a hellish nightmare. The river shall run red by next year, and will taint the vast seas with our wicked glory”
“Wonderfully evil my brother, as usual”
Rado turned and clenched his fist as his eyes fellow on the captain of the warlocks. He spit at the humans feet as his demonic aura grew around him.
“Lord Rado the rest of the warlocks are ready on your command”
“Get on with it then human, what the hell are you waiting for.”
“Yes my lord”
Suddenly Rado grabbed the humans hand (Imps are pretty small). A smirk slowly peeled across Rado’s burnt face as his eyes glowed blood red. The human’s face grimaced as his skin began to sizzle. The place where the imp had grabbed him turned black, burnt by the hate in Rado’s blood. Slowly but surely the burns began to move through his veins as the human gritted his teeth in resistance.
“Your soul is mine human, your body on the other hand...” A dim light, tainted with red and black, slowly drifted out of the mans chest as his body went limp. With his free hand the imp reached out and touched the dim light, which immediately swirled around as if in pain and turned black as night. “Your body is now truly impure human” He grinned a crocked grin as he pushed the now black light back into the mans body. Immediately the man let out a gasp, as he rose up, his eyes completely black and devoid of any emotion. By this time all the warlocks had gathered around and had witnessed the transformation.
“This is what you humans want, isn’t it” Rado said as he sat down to rest. The effort had been great on his part, but worth it “Now this human has the soul of a demon, a eternally cursed soul, and the power to make an angel squeal like a pig with your very touch”
The humans grinned at Rado and shouted a yes.
“We move south, and capture all things, take the river and make it run red and black with the blood of the innocent and the taint of the devil.” A wave of heat began to brew as the warlocks all began to get pumped up for the impending battle. The newly turned demon also joined in, his skin now becoming fully immolated by the flames of hatred.
“Death to the angels! DEATH to the innocent, rape, kill, massacre, show them the power of Satan, they will join us one way or another!!”
ooc there was a mistake in my orders warman, i just need to capture the part of the river that is closest to me. and you know, do the thing i said in my orders
“Bring the warlocks, ready them, we march south towards a river” Said Rado, leader of the Burnt Imps
“The river, ha, water is a blessing to us, why would we go to it” His brother said with a smirk.
“Because it is also a blessing to mankind, and we shall take that blessing and turn it into a hellish nightmare. The river shall run red by next year, and will taint the vast seas with our wicked glory”
“Wonderfully evil my brother, as usual”
Rado turned and clenched his fist as his eyes fellow on the captain of the warlocks. He spit at the humans feet as his demonic aura grew around him.
“Lord Rado the rest of the warlocks are ready on your command”
“Get on with it then human, what the hell are you waiting for.”
“Yes my lord”
Suddenly Rado grabbed the humans hand (Imps are pretty small). A smirk slowly peeled across Rado’s burnt face as his eyes glowed blood red. The human’s face grimaced as his skin began to sizzle. The place where the imp had grabbed him turned black, burnt by the hate in Rado’s blood. Slowly but surely the burns began to move through his veins as the human gritted his teeth in resistance.
“Your soul is mine human, your body on the other hand...” A dim light, tainted with red and black, slowly drifted out of the mans chest as his body went limp. With his free hand the imp reached out and touched the dim light, which immediately swirled around as if in pain and turned black as night. “Your body is now truly impure human” He grinned a crocked grin as he pushed the now black light back into the mans body. Immediately the man let out a gasp, as he rose up, his eyes completely black and devoid of any emotion. By this time all the warlocks had gathered around and had witnessed the transformation.
“This is what you humans want, isn’t it” Rado said as he sat down to rest. The effort had been great on his part, but worth it “Now this human has the soul of a demon, a eternally cursed soul, and the power to make an angel squeal like a pig with your very touch”
The humans grinned at Rado and shouted a yes.
“We move south, and capture all things, take the river and make it run red and black with the blood of the innocent and the taint of the devil.” A wave of heat began to brew as the warlocks all began to get pumped up for the impending battle. The newly turned demon also joined in, his skin now becoming fully immolated by the flames of hatred.
“Death to the angels! DEATH to the innocent, rape, kill, massacre, show them the power of Satan, they will join us one way or another!!”
ooc there was a mistake in my orders warman, i just need to capture the part of the river that is closest to me. and you know, do the thing i said in my orders
Kentharu
Zebra Commander
“Brother we have reached the river”
“Good” Rado said with a smirk, his eyes red with lust “Bring the warlocks to the river side, and bring the prisoners as well”
“Yes yes yes!! Long have I waited for this day brother” Baro grinned and scurried off to the camp. A few minutes later Rado headed down the riverside where the warlocks and imps had gathered and began to prepare. Already an alter had been prepared for sacrifices. A baby was there, crying, ready to die for the dark lord. The drums began, deep drums that vibrated ones very soul. Slowly chants began to build in volume as the warlocks formed a circle around the alter where the baby was placed. This was when Rado took his place inside the circle. As the chanting grew and grew dark clouds began to form over head, thunder boomed from the heavens. They say thunder was the rage of God, but god had no dominion over these burnt and scorched lands.
Rado scrambled onto the alter and crawled over the baby, which cried and cried, but all on deaf ear. Rado licked his fingers and then pressed them on the babies head. The baby’s skin burnt and sizzled as it screamed louder and louder. Now was the time, without hesitation Rado touched the baby’s chest and drew out the light, the soul of its being. It was pure white, brilliant white, it made Rado’s skin burn but he would endure it for after a few moment Rado reached out and touched the shining soul. Immediately a great screech erupted from it as it withered and twisted in pain before darkness took it. Then three warlocks from the circle of 15 walked forward, with three innocents in their grasp. A man, a woman, and a child, all worshipers of their lord. Rado looked to them, his eyes black with hatred.
“You have one chance, denounce your lord, he has no power now”
“Never” the woman said, the rest nodded in agreement
“Kill them”
Immediately the warlocks drove daggers into their backs. As they died the chanting of the warlocks grew louder and louder. Soon enough the souls of the three humans came forth, all pure, and shining bright but soon tainted with the black hate of Rado, who went around touching each one. As they turned black they joined the first soul, from the baby, in the center of the ring of warlocks. The great ball of black demonic energy, strengthened by the tainted innocence of the human soul, grew and grew in size.
“Three of you who wish to join Satan, who wish to truly serve the Dark Lord, step forward”
After a few moments three warlocks stepped forward, their daggers held high.
“Sacrifice yourself for chaos humans, and become more powerful than anything you can imagine” They all plunged their daggers into their bellies, dropping to their knees slowly as the drums grew louder and louder, drawing their dark tainted souls out from their bodies and joining them with the great black concentration of demonic energy.
“Now, you shall see what has been promised. With this gift to you, the Dark Lord, with this gift of three innocent souls, the soul of a baby, and the souls of the willing I beseech you to open your gates to us. Show these mortals what true power is!”
The winds now whipped around as thunder boomed. Lighting flashed and fires suddenly erupted from the ground as it split asunder. Something was coming, something was coming to claim this great ball of demonic energy that the Burnt Imps had offered. A demon, finally a true demon, who would fight against all that is good. Who would fight for injustice, cruelty, and hate. A glorious day it was, a day when man would witness the true power of the demons of hell!
“Good” Rado said with a smirk, his eyes red with lust “Bring the warlocks to the river side, and bring the prisoners as well”
“Yes yes yes!! Long have I waited for this day brother” Baro grinned and scurried off to the camp. A few minutes later Rado headed down the riverside where the warlocks and imps had gathered and began to prepare. Already an alter had been prepared for sacrifices. A baby was there, crying, ready to die for the dark lord. The drums began, deep drums that vibrated ones very soul. Slowly chants began to build in volume as the warlocks formed a circle around the alter where the baby was placed. This was when Rado took his place inside the circle. As the chanting grew and grew dark clouds began to form over head, thunder boomed from the heavens. They say thunder was the rage of God, but god had no dominion over these burnt and scorched lands.
Rado scrambled onto the alter and crawled over the baby, which cried and cried, but all on deaf ear. Rado licked his fingers and then pressed them on the babies head. The baby’s skin burnt and sizzled as it screamed louder and louder. Now was the time, without hesitation Rado touched the baby’s chest and drew out the light, the soul of its being. It was pure white, brilliant white, it made Rado’s skin burn but he would endure it for after a few moment Rado reached out and touched the shining soul. Immediately a great screech erupted from it as it withered and twisted in pain before darkness took it. Then three warlocks from the circle of 15 walked forward, with three innocents in their grasp. A man, a woman, and a child, all worshipers of their lord. Rado looked to them, his eyes black with hatred.
“You have one chance, denounce your lord, he has no power now”
“Never” the woman said, the rest nodded in agreement
“Kill them”
Immediately the warlocks drove daggers into their backs. As they died the chanting of the warlocks grew louder and louder. Soon enough the souls of the three humans came forth, all pure, and shining bright but soon tainted with the black hate of Rado, who went around touching each one. As they turned black they joined the first soul, from the baby, in the center of the ring of warlocks. The great ball of black demonic energy, strengthened by the tainted innocence of the human soul, grew and grew in size.
“Three of you who wish to join Satan, who wish to truly serve the Dark Lord, step forward”
After a few moments three warlocks stepped forward, their daggers held high.
“Sacrifice yourself for chaos humans, and become more powerful than anything you can imagine” They all plunged their daggers into their bellies, dropping to their knees slowly as the drums grew louder and louder, drawing their dark tainted souls out from their bodies and joining them with the great black concentration of demonic energy.
“Now, you shall see what has been promised. With this gift to you, the Dark Lord, with this gift of three innocent souls, the soul of a baby, and the souls of the willing I beseech you to open your gates to us. Show these mortals what true power is!”
The winds now whipped around as thunder boomed. Lighting flashed and fires suddenly erupted from the ground as it split asunder. Something was coming, something was coming to claim this great ball of demonic energy that the Burnt Imps had offered. A demon, finally a true demon, who would fight against all that is good. Who would fight for injustice, cruelty, and hate. A glorious day it was, a day when man would witness the true power of the demons of hell!
das
Regeneration In Process
Great stories everyone!
I sincerely doubt they had much fun in Romagna, what's with Gabriel being there and all.
I sincerely doubt they had much fun in Romagna, what's with Gabriel being there and all.
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
This was Romagna several hundred years ago. You can imagine what fun they had then.
Swissempire
Poet Jester
Disneyland Where Art Thou?
Chip could feel it happening. The power. He was channeling a Demon of the same name. He had completed the sacrifice. He stood in the middle of Disneyland, in Orlando Florida. He felt the unholy power course through his veins. And then there was a Flash of Flame
(See attachment)
Chip The High Demon of Imaginatoria
He looked around, a full twenty feet tall. He laughed an evil laugh. [Insert Evil Laugh]. He summoned a bunch of Sexy Witches(instead of Warlocks). They were like a Demonic Tinkerbells.
He looked around to the Cinderella Castle and muttered and incantation. It wa changed Demonic. The Reign of the Cult of Chip was upon the world.
Tremble you Fools!
Attachments
Swissempire
Poet Jester
Nation Name: Cult of Chip
Race: Demons
Economy: Aggressive (+1)
Tier: 1
Army:5 Tinkerbell Witches Divisions
Background: A young boy named Chip had a horrible dream. A demon with is same ancient name contacted him. So Chip built up a Cult to the demon, and completed the sacrifice. He was used as a living portal for Chip, and now Chip runs rampant. DEATH TO THE INFIDELS!
Race: Demons
Economy: Aggressive (+1)
Tier: 1
Army:5 Tinkerbell Witches Divisions
Background: A young boy named Chip had a horrible dream. A demon with is same ancient name contacted him. So Chip built up a Cult to the demon, and completed the sacrifice. He was used as a living portal for Chip, and now Chip runs rampant. DEATH TO THE INFIDELS!
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