Blood Covered Daisy Chains

Urgat

Part of the furniture
Joined
Dec 29, 2003
Messages
662
Chapter 1

Sitting in a field making daisy chains… that is my earliest memory. In fact if I think about it, it is also my happiest. So many years ago, I often wonder if my subconscious holds onto that summer’s day in an attempt to keep a hold on something real… something pure and untainted… something I am not.

I was with Kristen. My god I miss her so. I can hear the crystal peel of her silvery laugh right now, as if she were here next to me.

Kristen.

My sister.

I would trade places with her right now if I could. There is nothing I would not give to see her golden hair and blue eyes. To touch her face, and tell her I love her one last time.

But I cannot, for the memory of us on that that Hill in Cotswold is all I have left of her.

It was not long after that day when the knights came for me. I was too young to understand but they took me none the less. I remember riding in the lap of a huge man; his Cold steel Armour hurt my back. As we rode up the hill towards Camelot I clung to the warhorse’s mane as though my life depended on it. As we passed through the great gates, the bells of the Church of Camelot began to peel; sounding to all, that the new Acolytes were arriving.

My life in service of the church had begun.

Be under no illusions… being an acolyte is damn hard work. The first few years were a miserable time. I was too young to understand what my parents had given me, too young to realise the sacrifices they had made in order to give me this fantastic opportunity. Naturally I thought I was being punished for something. Why else would they send me away to this place, away from my friends, from them, from Kristen?

At first they concentrated on getting us used to life in the church. Routines were repeated each day, prayers were drilled into us, and the mantras were ingrained into our very beings. “In the light we trust, for it drives out the darkness, in the light we follow, for it guided Arthur, in the light we believe, for it provides for us all” The training continued through all of my early years. By the time I was approaching my sixteenth birthday, I had served as an acolyte for six years. Before long, I was informed that my progress was adequate, and that upon the morning of my eighteenth birthday, I would be Ordained into the church of Camelot as a full cleric of the light.

My Joy at this news was, as you can imagine, immense. I would finally be able to leave the Church grounds as a full cleric, with luck; I would be able to visit my family often. I doubled my efforts in classes, in order to ensure nothing could go wrong. And things were once again good, until that day. The day that I now realise changed everything.

With the gift of wisdom and hindsight I now understand just how significant that fateful morning was. I use the word “fateful” on purpose, for there is no doubt that what happened back then was meant to happen.

As usual, the morning prayers were about to commence in the great hall, and I was on my way down one of the many corridors of the grounds, when a great black raven fluttered its way towards me, squawking at the top of its little lungs. Clearly I had disturbed it, and in a panic, I turned to run away from the menacing bird.

I lost my footing, and the next thing I remember is waking up with the most frightful headache. I made my way to the great hall; only to find no one there, save for Sister Maria. Who’s look of disappointment told me everything I needed to know about the ensuing conversation we were about to have.

I forget the exact words now, it was so long ago, but, to cut a long story short, no excuses were ever allowed, and thus none were ever given by us acolytes, we simply accepted our punishments. Sister Marie obviously thought that so close to my ordination, I should be taught to keep time more effectively, and thus she devised what I thought to be, at the time, the cruellest of tasks to give me.

Allow me to elaborate…

It was at that time that the Legendary Isle of Avalon had been discovered. As such, an alliance had been formed between Albion and the native races of the ethereal Island. Representatives of the Icconnu had travelled to Camelot in order to further cement the relationship. It soon became known that these strange small creatures spoke the name of a different god in their prayers. Stories of this new deity echoed around the city, “Arawn the lord of darkness and the underworld” was a name whispered with mistrust and fear amongst the population. Imagine our surprise when, by order of the king, a contingent from Arawn’s faithful were to be based within the church grounds!

They were given the crypts under the gardens, “a place more suited to there desire” we were told. Before long the first of the followers or Arawn arrived. We shuddered as the Necromancers filed past us. Revulsion filled us, how could we be allied to something so utterly removed from the Pure light of Camelot? The Revulsion turned to fear, as the Guardians of Arawn’s church appeared amongst us. The Reavers… Cold, merciless, and wielding magic and weapons that stripped the very souls from living beings.

And thus to my punishment…

Sister Marie instructed me that each morning at sunrise, for the next three months I was to delivery the morning’s paperwork to the Icconnu in charge of the Contingent in Camelot. I was repulsed, not only would I have to venture into the crypts, I would have to stand in the presence of the highest ranking member of the Church of Arawn in Camelot. Every Day!

I spent the rest of that day in silent dread at the thought of dawn the following day… My anxiety, as it turned out… was well placed.

The first morning of those three months was the worst in my life up until that point. I gingerly made my way down to the Crypts as slowly as I could. Every step took me further away from the Light, and closer to the darkness. I comforted myself with the Mantras, trusting in the radiance of the light to shield me from the Darkness that now prevailed in those halls. As I approached the door to his chamber my skin crawled. I raised my hand to knock, and almost died of shock when a chill voice from within bade me enter.

As I stepped into the room, I gazed upon the leader of the Arwanites in Camelot, the aura of power that emanated from that creature was, as I recall… sickeningly Dizzying… yet strangely alluring at the same time. Looking back… I realise that even though I did not know at the time, it was then that I fell. He must have known this… because the slightest of smiles crept onto his lips before he coldly pointed towards a pile of papers on his desk. As quickly as I could I dropped my delivery onto the desk and bolted from the room as fast as my quivering legs would carry me. This continued for three months. And after that ordeal, I can honestly say I have never been late for anything else in my entire life. Lesson learned I think?

And so after another year or so, the day of my Ordaining was fast approaching. Preparations were made, and I was once again looking forward to becoming a cleric, and finally seeing my family again. I imagined how they might look, I wondered if my sweet Kristen still had that Blonde hair of hers, and I laughed to myself, at the thought of her seeing how much I had changed.

That hill in summer is my first memory, but the eave of my Ordination will remain the clearest and most vivid memory I have.

I was summoned to Sister Maria’s Office, when I entered I knew something was immediately wrong. Sister Maria had the gravest of expression on her face, and with her was Sir Tristen of the Knights of Light. Paladins attached to the Church in Camelot. Naturally I thought I was in trouble, that the ceremony in the morning would not be taking place. Nothing could have prepared me for what she said…

“Emily, I am sorry my child, there is no easy way to say this. I am afraid your Family is dead”

I sat in silence, not really comprehending what she had said. It was impossible, I was going to see them tomorrow, and they could not be dead. She was mistaken.

“A Cotswold patrol reported an attack on your father’s farm my child” continued Sir Tristen “The goblins left no one alive”

That sentence rang true however, Paladins could not lie. My family was dead?

I remember screaming, crying, falling to the floor. The rest is a haze. Eventually they calmed me.

“Did you find them?” I asked through blurry eyes
“Who, my child?” replied Sir Tristen
“The goblins” I answered “Did you find them and kill them?”
“Emily… That is not the way of the light and you know this…” he answered
“What!” I exclaimed
“To pursue revenge is to fall to their level child, you should know this. Your family rest with the light now, Mourn them, and take up your place as a Cleric tomorrow in their honour, but above all, put thoughts of revenge out of your heart”
“To hell with honour! To hell with the light, they killed my family, they killed… Kristen” I shouted at him

Kristen.

My sister.

They took my sister from me.

I fled from that room with tears streaming anew. I ran and ran, until finally I collapsed to the floor into a sobbing mass.

I did not know how long I had been there before I heard the voice.

“Why do you cry child” it asked without a hint of concern, the question was purely functional
“Because my family is dead!” I screamed whilst flashing my eyes upwards. They were met by the chilling gaze of the Icconnu Leader from my days of punishment.
“All things die” He stated in a matter of fact tone
“They were murdered!” I retorted, no longer caring that his presence filled my body with dread.
“Then… why are you here crying, instead of gaining revenge?”

It was a simple question, but the truth of it struck me to my core. “I… I cannot….” I answered feebly

“Come then, I will help you child” he said as he looked into my eyes with that same slight smile on his lips.

Before I knew it, we were heading out of Camelot, into the Cotswold Hills. We rode up into the foothills almost in a straight line; it was as if he knew where to go. Presently we stopped, and he reached into his saddle bag and pulled out an azure Blue hammer and shield before handing them to me.

“The goblins are up ahead, take these you will need them. Now go and extract the debt that they owe you for your family, child”

My head was spinning; I was confused “But… I” I stammered

“No buts… Think of you mother, your father, your Sister. Do this and I promise you, you will be aided, you will receive the strength you desire, you will be granted the justice you seek. Trust me in this child, go … go and take your revenge!”

His words pierced my heart, I almost ran up that hill. My heart pounded in my chest and my mind raced. I descended on the goblin camp with a fury, heads cracked, faces split, and bones broke. With every blow I shouted my Sister’s name, and with every scream from a goblin I drew comfort for her suffering.

Before I knew it there were none left, I fell to my knees exhausted, and then it dawned upon me as I gazed at my hands, I was covered in the blood of the mangled. I surveyed the camp, all around, death, devastation, all my doing. I dropped the hammer and shield, and as they fell to the blood soaked floor he spoke.

“Well done child, revenge is yours”

I did not know what to say… the memory of My little sister was swimming in the blood of her killers… this was not as I had desired. I was tainted… and so was my sister’s memory…

“Arise” he continued “What is your name child?”
“Emily” I answered
“No longer” he returned “For now you belong to Me, As Arawn granted you the strength to take that which was yours by right, I now Grant you your true name”

I looked up at my new master as he spoke the words that echo in my head to this day

“Arise, Sanguinne… The bloody one… Arise and embrace the darkness as you have turned your back on the light. Arise and take your place in the Church of Arawn by my side.”

I stared blankly into his eyes, as he whispered the two words that sealed my fate…

“Arise… Heretic”


To be continued...
 
E

EmeraldSpider

Guest
Thats fabulous Sang *well done*, obviously a bit of a dark horse, as well as gifted writer *squishes*

Keep up the good work :)

Ele
 

Urgat

Part of the furniture
Joined
Dec 29, 2003
Messages
662
2

Chapter 2

I sometimes sit in front of the mirror in my bedroom and just stare at my reflection, looking for any trace of Young Emily of Cotswold.

There is none.

All I see is Sanguinne, Daughter of Arawn, Heretic, Kings’s champion, Eagle Knight, the bane of Midgard and Hibernia, Master soldier… Elder…nothing but a string of titles, they tell me what I have done… not who I am. Any time I think I am getting close to seeing that innocent young acolyte; my head is filled with the screams of maimed Goblins, and my vision filled by a curtain of falling blood.

Emily of Cotswold died that day in that camp along with the goblins she slaughtered, consumed in the flames of her vengeance just as my enemies are now consumed in the fires of Arawn.

Following my revenge, I was taken back to Camelot by my new master. There, in the crypts of the church, I was inducted into the ranks of the Lord of Darkness, at the very same time, above in the great hall; my class mates of old were undergoing their own ritual of Ordination.

Ironic… no?

I was branded with the mark of Arawn, given new robes, a new shield and hammer and simply told to go and bring glory to Arawn. I soon learned that the training of the ones most called “heretics” was far, far removed from the structured training of the church of Camelot. We were expected to go out into the world, and simply learn. It seemed strange at the time… but, when one considers the implications, it actually is a very simple way of ensuring that Arawn’s Clergy are compromised of only the strongest of individuals.

A heretic who does not learn to harness his new power quickly… is not a heretic for long. Many a new initiate of Arawn’s career ended suddenly, in some dungeon or graveyard. It matters not, for the Lord of the Underworld is concerned only with those who can represent him in a strong fashion.

I learned quickly…

And I enjoyed learning!

Unless you are a mage of the highest order, you will never be able to comprehend the Power I command. Only the Greatest of fire wizards can match the raw unbridled destruction I can wreak with the Divine fire of Arawn, and even then, if I am able to focus my will for long enough, not even they can match me any longer. Such power is addictive… I soon began to understand why my Master’s aura enticed me so much on that day when I first set eyes upon him.

My new abilities were put to the test many times, mainly through my own choice, for as I said earlier, we were encouraged to go and make our own way in the world. It was during those times that I met those who would become my closest friends. I remember the days well…

I was Adventuring in the Hills surrounding Camelot, and had been asked to enter a nearby cave and clear out a recent infestation of hostile creatures. I noticed a young dark haired man watching me from the other side of the square whilst absently stroking his goatee beard, naturally being the abrasive type I wasted no time in going over to him in order to “educate” him in the ways of not staring at women. As I approached, I saw the familiar brand of Arawn on him.

He was also a Heretic.

He introduced himself as Mazingu, and I soon discovered that he was also a new initiate. We decided to Work together and I told him of my mission to the caves. With a glint in his eyes and a sly grin he agreed we should go together.

The caves were not far. The creatures inhabiting them were obviously not scared of the nearby town dwellers, and, fearless creatures clearly could not be allowed to continue existing so close to civilisation. I would be paid handsomely for murdering them all and… besides… I freely admit the thought of using my power to cull these “invaders” filled me with delight… as it always did.

Carefully we checked the entrance, and then proceeded inside.

“Stay Close Sanguinne” Mazingu Started “We can shield each other if needed”

That was the first time I had heard that name spoken to me by anyone other than my Master. In a way, it brought home the reality of my life at that point and the commitment I had made.

In any case I agreed and stepped in close to Mazingu in order that we might Guard each other with our Shields.

It was just as well, for with a piercing scream a previously Hidden Brownie lunged at me with its sharp claws. The strike raked Mazingu’s Shield as he thrust it in front of me, scratching deep gouges into the wood. Immediately he brought his Hammer round in a crashing arc. The blow caught the malicious little creature squarely in the face, sending it crashing to the floor in a crumpled heap.

From down the tunnel we hear more, at least half a dozen it sounded like. We glanced at each other and both grinned wildly. As they mob of brownies rounded the bend further down the tunnel, they came into view.

Neither of us needed any prompting, almost synchronously, we focused our wills on the charging gang. Instead of focusing the full force on one target, we instead concentrated on them all. Streams of fire leaped from our outstretched palms towards our foes, bathing them in Arawns Fire. With each passing second, our focus grew, and as it did, the Divine fire grew hotter. The rock under the brownies began to melt, slowing there progress down the tunnel.

They were doomed.

The avalanche of fire from one of us would have been sufficient, but from both of us combined it was devastating. In a few short seconds of us both focusing the will of Arawn, the charging mass was reduced to a twisted pile of molten mess. If one heretic was Powerful… two were positively frightening. We continued through those caves without stopping. Anything we found was turned to ash, or bludgeoned to death.

That day was the start of a friendship that still endures to this day. Often we travel the frontier together, just us two. Seeking out enemies of Albion to burn alive in the righteous fires of our dark lord… and make no mistake… we are damn good at what we do.


To be continued....
 

Urgat

Part of the furniture
Joined
Dec 29, 2003
Messages
662
3

Chapter 3

Of course, Mazingu was not the only other that I adventured with. There were a great many different people that I joined forces with whilst pursuing my path to glory. But he and just a handful of others were the only ones that I felt it was worth continuing to acquaint with. You see… for a start, finding people who are not prejudice in itself is a challenge.

Let us face facts.

I have forsaken the light of Camelot in favour of serving what most people refer to as an evil Deity. To most folk of Albion, I am Abhorrent, indeed, the very Name which defines me, evokes a terrible feeling in most people.

Heretic

One who has committed blasphemous acts in the name of a false god, forsaking their own.

It is a point of view I can understand; My Lord Arawn is the god of darkness and the Underworld after all. But he certainly is not false, and, I admit, I turned my back upon the light. The fact that it was engineered is irrelevant, the ultimate decision was still mine to make.

I chose power.

This… disturbs people, I think. Thus, even now, I know that people murmur when I pass. Not to my face of course, most would not dare. Those that do openly show their contempt for me and my brethren are usually fellow champions of the king, and thus, are both sure of there own strength, and also protected from my wrath by the Kings decree.

In all this time, I can count the people who accept me for what I can do on my bare hands. Notice I did not say “for whom I am” … because I would expect no one to accept me for that… after all; I am a murdering Heretic, concerned with the gaining of power and the furthering of My Lord Arawn’s purpose.

Of that handful of people, a small few stand out along side Mazingu as foremost among my friends. Braeden, and Spellfire immediately spring to mind. Breaden for his unswerving serenity and composure even in the face of terrible danger. And spellfire for well…his Unswerving need to make things explode… I swear the man verges on insanity at times!

We first met these two most enigmatic of ‘Spellthrowers’ as Maz calls them (much to their disgust, I might add), in the Underground catacombs. The ancient ways to the Icconnu crypts had not long been discovered and Maz and I were taking full opportunity and exploring the areas as much as we could when we happened upon the most curious of scenes.

Standing ahead, was one of the denizens of the Catacombs, a crazed Follower of Pluto. Unusually though, the fanatic was simply stood, looking dumbfounded in between two Avalonian males. As we approached, we began to hear the conversation they were having…

“No Spell… I want him” said the first (who we would later find out was called Braeden), in a very calm and composed manner.
“But Brae!” wailed the other (Who was introduced to us as Spellfire) “I wanna blow him up!”
“Please spell” replied Braeden, once more in a calm and serine voice “you have blown the last nine up, I simply wish to keep one as a pet, it will help us in the long run”
“But I wanna see it explode!” replied Spellfire clearly not comprehending the meaning behind Braedens words.

At this point myself and Mazingu stepped forwards. “Can we be of assistance” I asked, in a polite manner. At the sound of my voice the two men turned, I noticed immediately that Braeden did so in a controlled manner, the man was obviously well disciplined. Spellfire, on the other hand, whipped round like a lunatic, clearly ready to cast a spell.

I raised my hands in defence “I could not help but overhear” I continued. “What seems to be the trouble?”

With a sigh Braeden answered “well, I was simply trying to explain to my friend here that it would be an idea to let me keep one of these as a pet” he said pointing to the mesmerised Icconnu.
“But they explode so well!” exclaimed Spellfire, a look of genuine joy on his face.
“As you can see, my Pyromanical companion would rather incinerate it though…” said Braeden with a rather resigned smile.
“Perhaps we can solve the problem then” Said Maz, obviously thinking the same thing as me.
“Oh?” was the reply from both avalonians
“Let us all hunt together” he said
“That way… “I continued “”You get not one but two extra companions, and your rather maniacal friend here gets to explode his Icconnu”

At this, Spellfire began to node his head emphatically, to such an extent that I felt the need to reach out and hold it still in order to stop it falling off!

“I think…” began Braeden “that would work well.” He said through a smile. “Besides, I rather think Spellfire might hurt himself if we do not resolve this situation quickly”

And so, (after Spellfire had blown the unfortunate icconnu to little pieces with his fire magic) we began the first of many hunts as a foursome. I have to admit, we were a very effective team.

Mazingu and I were both able to enhance and heal with our magic, and we were able to stand and fight in front of the two casters with hammer and shield when it was required. Although, in honesty… it was very, very rare that anything ever got close to us at all. Breaden’s sorcery ensured that most foes remained comatose until we were ready to deal with them, compounded that with was ability to conjure a field of energy that amplified Fire damage! And myself, Mazingu and especially Spellfire with his Wizardly Fire Magic, took apart scores of foes before they even knew what was happening.

Not only did our skills compliment each other greatly, unusually I found that we actually liked each other as well.

Mazingu’s unfailing ability to find Humour in the most pressing of circumstances was a welcome gift; Spellfire was always fun to be around because of his unpredictability and Braeden’s mastery over the minds of others translated directly to his own personality, it is almost impossible to disrupt his serine composure. I remember fondly a fight that was not going at all to plan.

After Braeden mesmerising nothing short of thirty or so haunted apparitions, Spellfire had one of his momentary lapses in concentration and felt the need to start blowing the entire group up at the same time. Naturally many of them escaped the considerable blast radius of Spell’s most explosive incantation and immediately charged us. Maz and I tried desperately to place ourselves between the oncoming rush and our two rather fragile friends. Mid way through the melee, we did not notice several of the attackers break away from us to engage Braeden who was stood back stripping there life force with his offensive spells. We were only alerted to this fact when… despite the dire circumstances… Braeden instead of crying out for help like a crazed loon… calmly said the following…

“Excuse me, I wonder if you would mind dealing with these miscreants? As they appear to me hitting me in the face…”

Naturally we immediately went to his aid, and the fight turned out well in the end, but Mazingu and I spent the entire remainder of the encounter howling with laughter whilst at that statement, and the fact that…not surprisingly, Spell was grinning inanely at the results of his explosions, completely oblivious to the whole matter.

Good times.

Good times indeed. Far better than the times that we were blissfully unaware were approaching… If we had known the ordeal we would go through in the next few months… I wonder if any of us would have continued adventuring at all…

To Be Continued....
 

Toglet

Fledgling Freddie
Joined
Jan 25, 2004
Messages
18
more! more! when's the next bit coming? Sharpen that pencil and work harder!!! or u shall be Togged :flame:
 

Maff

Fledgling Freddie
Joined
Feb 20, 2005
Messages
175
Awwww mate these are good cant wait for the next bit and makes me wonder who else going to be in it.
maybe even the day you joined a new Guild hehehe.:)
keep up the good work and cant wait for the next one
 

Urgat

Part of the furniture
Joined
Dec 29, 2003
Messages
662
4

Chapter 4

I have always known I was destined for something and I never doubted that one day people would know my name for good or bad. So it came as no surprise to me when the king requested my presence. I had already made a name for myself within the church grounds partly through the missions of a sensitive nature I had been assigned by the hierarchy there, but mainly, I think, because of my renunciation of the light at the start of my career and the subsequent tormenting of my ex superiors.

You see, as I said before… The church of Arawn is based in the crypts under the Church of Camelot. And so despite my change of allegiance, every day I would walk through those halls past my former tutors and colleagues on my way to my new master. You cannot imagine my delight when the looks of disgust soon turned into looks of fear as my power grew. Even now it amuses me to watch initiates of the light almost flee in terror when I glare at them whilst walking through their cursed halls.

The day I met King Consantine stands out for one reason and one reason alone. It was the start of a terrible series of events that lead to my eventual Elevation to one of Constantine’s Personal Champions. Despite the great glory this affords, I can honestly say that had I known the price that would be paid for that title, I would have looked the old fool directly in the eye and told him exactly where to go.

It turned out there was a rebellion that needed putting down. Myself and my companions had been chosen personally by him to do the deed. The one thing I remember most about that briefing was how utterly disappointed in this man I was. Not only did he look ridiculous in his “regal” battle armour, he was but a shade of the man I was expecting to stand before. A real king would have no need for adventurers of note. Arthur would not have returned from hiding only to have others do his dirty work for him, no… he would have drawn Excalibur, marched into the camp of rebels, and cut every last one down single handedly.

At least… that’s what I Hope…

Never the less, Constantine was and is our “king” and thus at that moment, and still even now, he must be obeyed.

And obey we did, with fervent passion!

The rebels were no match for us. Small as though our group was, we had honed our skills to perfection during our passed adventures. After tracking the base camp down through a series of incredibly frustrating leads and wild goose chases and foiling a pre-emptive strike by their forces on a small mountain village, the small army of largely unorganised rabble was systematically cut to pieces by our combined might. The whole affair culminated in the assault on their keep, and slaughter of everyone inside by just us four people.

I could say it was quick and painless, but I would be lying. Frustrated by the doddering fool Constantine’s order to do his dirty work for him… I felt the need to demonstrate by vexation and malevolence to it’s fullest on those so called Rebels.

We made them suffer, and it felt good.

Naturally we returned with news of our mission’s success to the king, only to be ordered to follow up the “investigation” as certain agents had reported the involvement of entities outside this world in the plot.

Our nightmare had begun.

Immediately our thoughts turned to that most cursed of places, Darkness Falls, the closest thing to Hell on earth possible. A festering pit of despair, corruption, and torment… filled to the brim by beings so twisted and evil, they make me look saintly.

We were to investigate claims that the rebellion had stemmed from connections to that dread place. No wonder the gutless worm of a king had others doing his work for him!

What followed was a whirlwind of horror. It turned out that those agents were correct; the whole rebellion was part of a plot to enable the return of a Demon lord long lost to this world. And there we were caught up in the middle of it all.

We braved the summoning of lesser evils in order to get information, and battled the master demon Geryon in his own dread lair. None of this prepared us for our final part in this sordid affair though.

At the culmination of this war with the fiends of Darkness falls, we were ordered by Constantine to brave the depths of the falls itself and exterminate the Council of Five followed by The Demon Lord Azazel.

Not only were we to take on the five most powerful lords of hell, we were then to turn our attention to the Prince of Demons itself!

And would our gracious king be accompanying us on this most treacherous of paths? of course not. He would remain in Camelot, no doubt gazing puppy eyed at the fireworks in the sky still celebrating his most “glorious” return.

And so myself and many others gathered for this assault on the gates of hell. Fully three hundred of us went in.

Only eight came out.

I cannot describe adequately the horrors we faced in that place. We fought for hours; through a host of demonic servants the like of which no commoner could look at and stay sane. We made our way through an endless sea of fiends in order to reach just the first of the five lords, and when we finally found him, he strode amongst us and laid waste to handfuls with swipes of his terrible claws. The healers chanted to their god, and the fighters braved the foul being’s claws regardless. In the end we were victorious and he fell.

Our relief was short lived, as we knew we had to press on and find the remaining four lords. Find them and kill them we did, but at a terrible price, by the time we reached the guardian to Azaael’s chamber we were no more that fifty souls.

Exhausted mentally and physically by the never ending fighting we had been involved in for the past five hours, we faced the final obstacle in our way and despaired.

Legion

The undying incarnation of every soul ever lost in battle to fiends, a wall of wailing voices, reaching out to tear your very sanity from you skull.

We charged.

And we died in droves.

Soon, the decision was made; most of the warriors would hold the attention of the fell guardian, whilst one group would slip passed and confront Azazel alone. It was our only hope. Either that, or fail in the attempt. My group was chosen, I had yet to loose anyone, and we consisted of the balance of skills required to stand the best chance… slim though it was.

And so, we left our battle brothers and sisters to join the countless damned souls of Legion, and broke away to make our way passed into the chamber of Azazel the Demon Prince and as we did, the screams of our dying companions filled our tortured ears.

And so we came to the culmination of Constantine’s little war. We approached the Prince of Hell’s throne with a silent feeling of dread. Tears freely streamed down my face as I tried to drive the tormented screams of the people we had left to certain death out of my head. I still do not know most of those souls names even to this day, but there and then, for those few hours in that accursed place, they held true in the face of death, and sacrificed themselves for me and my closest companions, for that I counted them as true friends, and I still do to this day… Arawn give them rest.

Slowly we made our way through the lesser demons scurrying around Azazel’s chamber, and as we reached our target he did not even make an effort to move. I gritted my teeth, and, still thinking of the sacrifice the others had made, gave the order to attack.

Our fighters charged, the casters threw magic, and the healers chanted. The fight was tough, but to be honest, my group was elite and ever so slowly we began to gain the upper hand. Our confidence grew steadily, until, obviously realising that he could not prevail alone; Azael used dire magic, and called the shade of the first demon lord of the circle of five to his aid. At once the fight swung back into his favour, as Moloch’s spectre tore into our healers. Immediately I ordered the retreat, there was no way I was going to die in this place for that Excuse for a King. As we retreated, the shade followed, and we battled for our lives, it was then that Tynian, our Paladin shouted…

“Look, he is stuck!”

It is fair to say that Tynian, although possessing a heart of gold, was better suited to smashing things in the face with his shield than thinking, and although the observation of our somewhat Dim paladin was not entirely accurate, the meaning behind it was clear. Azazel was bound to his throne still!

His return was not yet complete, and the spark of hope re-ignited in us all.

We fell back to deal with the spectre, and once it was defeated, we rested, gathered our composure and charged Azazel once more. Four more shades he summoned, and four more times we orderly fell back to deal with each one in turn, until finally, with his dread magic spent, we felled the Prince of hell.

The feeling of relief was overwhelming. The feeling of accomplishment, though, was empty. Too many had died for it to be anything other than a hollow victory, we returned to the king to report our “success”. Naturally he was pleased, I personally, could not wait to leave his chamber, the very sight of the spineless bastard sickened me, and in truth it still does.

I still dream of Darkness falls you know, and the dreams are not pleasant. Every day I think of those hundreds that perished in that awful pit and every day I vow that one day they will have justice. After all, if there is one thing I know well, it is revenge.

Looking back, I can safely say that the only good thing to come of all that madness was that it brought my three close friends and I into contact with the people we would soon begin to spend most of our time with.

It brought us to the group of people who called themselves the Death Jesters…

To be continued...

(PS - Maff... once a slam bot always a slam bot!)
 

Maff

Fledgling Freddie
Joined
Feb 20, 2005
Messages
175
Urgat said:
To be continued...

(PS - Maff... once a slam bot always a slam bot!)

Not a bloody smal bot any more ya git,and i'm not dim i just pull that face to fool others:)

But bloody good read cant wait for the next bit
 

Urgat

Part of the furniture
Joined
Dec 29, 2003
Messages
662
5

Chapter 5

Guilds,

The backbone of Albion some would say.

I disagree.

I have nothing but contempt for the majority of these organisations. It is yet another testament to our king’s weakness that he allows the formation of uncontrolled gatherings of self ego stroking “wanna-be” leaders. Quite simply, if every single one of the multitude of “leaders” of these guilds were to lay down there idiotic need to hold some kind of authority, and instead serve a higher master, then we would have a united force capable of ending these wars for ever.

You will note that I said “majority”

Despite my innate dislike for uncontrolled guilds, there are without doubt some groups of people who are actually less contemptible than the vast majority.

My companions and I were fortunate enough to fall in with one such group. The four others in my group when we faced Azazel were part of a gathering of people calling themselves the “death jesters”. After our ordeal we became friends since one’s philosophy and beliefs seem to fade to inconsequence in the face of such horrific adversity. Before long were introduced to the rest of their considerable circle of members whom, much to my surprise, I did not instantly hate.

I found I could tolerate this organisation, mainly because it was far less “structured” than the rest of Albion’s little pseudo hierarchies. In fact, it seemed that the circle of leaders of the Death Jesters were far more concerned with everyone being happy than actually stroking there own ego’s, a rare trait in our realm I feel.

It has been during my Time in the Death jesters that I have made the most progress with my ambitions. It is rare that there is not a party of Jesters in the frontier either defending our realm or raiding the enemies of Albion.

Ah yes, the war.

Of late it has been my main concern; the enemies of Albion seem limitless. Rarely a day goes by that we are not defending one of our outposts or trying to gain territory in Midgard or Hibernia. The divine fire of Arawn is just as devastating to Trolls and Elves as it is to the denizens of Albions dungeons. My main interest so far has been the defence of our keeps.

One simply cannot describe the feeling of joy derived from incinerating a group of attackers manning a War ram as their healers franticly try to heal the wounds, only to see even greater injuries inflicted seconds later as my focus grows. I have yet to fail to kill a Ram team if left to focus. Do you have any idea what it means to be able to say “If I Choose so…. You will die”?

The power over life and death.

Am I not a living god?

A god in service of the god of gods.

Lord Arawn grants me this gift so that I might eventually gain enough influence and power to fulfil my goal. A goal he clearly approves of.

And so we finally come to it... the reason for this little chat. You see I like the people who cross me to know exactly who and what I am before I kill them… and since you have crossed me…

Don’t look so surprised. You see, I know that you know of my plans. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful to my master for giving me the opportunity to serve the lord of the underworld. I pray thanks everyday for him setting me on the path to this power I now wield. His selection of me to become one of his followers fills me with pride, but never the less…

The son of a bitch must die.

I should have known, on that day when he led me straight to the camp of goblins without even having to try to look for them. Had I been able to see passed the grief, and the overwhelming need for revenge that he had fanned the flames of, I might have seen the truth…

In retrospect, all he had to do was ask. As I said, I fell from grace the moment I laid eyes on him on the first day of my punishment. Had he but approached me and offered me a place in the church of Arawn I would not have been able to refuse.

Instead, the murdering bastard had my family killed in order to trap me into joining him. He paid a handful of goblins a handful of coins, and with that simple deed he took my Kristen away from me and then drowned my most precious memory of her in a sea of blood. For that, when I am strong enough… I will rip his heart out and eat it in front of him while he dies. Perhaps then the blood Covered Daisy chains I dream about every night will fade away.

Yes, I want Revenge once again. You would think I had learned that lesson….

What’s that?

You didn’t know any of this?

Oh…

The fear in your eyes tells me you are being truthful…

Hmmm.

That leaves us with a problem doesn’t it… because now you DO know of my plans for my master.

I apologize my dear, I have made a mistake.

However… the fact remains… you now know too much..

Be still.

This wont hurt… for long.

The End.
 

Maff

Fledgling Freddie
Joined
Feb 20, 2005
Messages
175
we want more lol
very good read mate really enjoyed reading it cant wait till you do some more
 

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