12/03/2001
Damien writes...
Being an Angel of the Sixth Seal isn’t as good as the brochure makes out - and it isn’t marketed very well. I’m well into my fifth day writing a Seal around a rather large and unreasonable Agent of Creation that has somehow been released from its former abode on Allusia. Aside from having writer’s cramp and the nagging feeling we wont complete the Seal in time, I’m having a lousy time in this realm. The inside of my Demon armour is getting decidedly rank and I will soon banish it in preference of being sullied by this Agent of Creation’s craft: the swamp. Still, it could be worse: the universe could have ended.
EditIntroduction
My name is Damien, the Prince of Demons. I am a young Immortal of three millennia; I have seen the passing of five ages and have Ascended one score and five. My immortality has handed me many things over the centuries, some fantastical and some soul-destroying. I have been spell-bound by the flying of the Phoenix, eaten apples from the Garden of Eden, witnessed the awesome power of the Serpent of War, battled Horrors from outside of Time and Space and commanded the devastation brought on by the Ravens of Dissolution. Rapture and agony, beauty and horror, power and impotence, mistakes…? oh yes.
I owe my Immortality to Demons, the children of the Abyss. They are my Power and I’m their prince. There is no end to the diversity and power of these fantastic creatures. Many are known by reputation, like Rampage, Sagebrush or Razanil, but because the Abyss is infinite most are not known.
It is a common misconception that Demons and Devils are the same thing. This is not true. Devils are elementally evil whereas Demons owe more to Chaos than to any other force, Evil is not something they batten on. The only redeeming feature of your average Devil is that it may look somewhat like a Demon, but in all other respects they are scum.
My story begins on my home realm Sparlainth with Odin, Oberon and myself having returned from abroad, very abroad…
EditThe Sweetest Kiss
Lady of the Blood Tide is still alive. This is not good news, but we have a duty to inform her erstwhile nemesis, the Lady of Souls. We have no time for celebration and therefore Odin has no time for ale, much to his alarm.
Odin is the Caster of Runes. He is a big, burly man that wears furs and has more body hair than most would consider necessary. He carries a spear called Gun’eir and a shield you would swear is welded to the nose-guard of his helm.
On the battlefield, he boasts great potency and untamed ferocity. The same has been said about his lovemaking.
Few would voice that Odin is filthy and repellent even for a barbarian; the majority of us keep our mouth in check. His only weakness is the insensitive use of superfluous adjectives directed at his entourage of lice.
After about an hour in the Astral, we arrived at the Forge of Souls, home of the Lady of Souls and Benfar, the Lord of Metals. A Forge Knight greeted us and Oberon is quick to ask for an audience with the Lady of Souls. We were told that she is very busy, but before the large dwarf had a chance to finish, Oberon boldly pushed past him. The dwarf decided that standing aside was the wise thing to do and Odin and I shrugged at each other before we followed.
Oberon is the mighty Lord of Wands. His majestic intellect is offset by a low animal cunning, and an almost artistic appreciation for a good looting; it is little wonder that his favourite form is a weasel. Although shrewd by design, Oberon’s morals are oaken and he does not hesitate to incinerate Evil in its many and varied incarnations. He is an awesome ally and a friend to many.
When we entered the Lady of Souls chamber, the good Lady appeared somewhat distracted. After a short wait, she said in a cold, even tone, that Mark, Death Champion, was dead.
EditThe Abandonment of All Hope
We were mortified. Begin dead is something that Mark just doesn’t do. Considering the Untimely Dead were now able to enter the Known Realms, this was of grave concern.
We had to find out what had happened. We sought the aid of a few Immortals: Nereus the Caster of Bones, Morphia the Weaver of Dreams and Mortus, Enchanter of the Flesh.
A Soul Warden was dispatched to find Mark’s soul and we went off in search of answers.
The Valley of Death turned up little so Morphia sat down and wove her magics into a Dream of what happened to Mark and where he would be.
Morphia is the Weaver of Dreams and the Spinner of Fate. She possesses great mental powers and has a remarkable degree of Faith for an Immortal. Morphia’s craft requires her to daydream frequently. Although this restricts her degree of mundane engagement, she provides invaluable information and communication services for the party as well as some powerful mental attacks. When graced with her attention however her wit goes beyond the call of duty; often at Odin’s expense. This may be due to the fact that their less than immaculate conception had Morphia give birth to a bird. Odin’s history with ravens is well known
(Unfinished)EditThe Dark Continent
Journey to Hell
When Hell Freezes Over
Strands of Treachery
The Devil of Perversion
Vanity, thy Name is thy Tomb
The Kiss
EditRunning Out of Time
Prophetic Dream
Trip to Allucia
The Agent of Creation
Out of Time
The Seal
The Devil
The Angel
The Escape
EditThe Vein of Evil
Castling of the Ring Keep
The Marquis of Pentacles
Hell Keep
The Spirit of Law
EditTwilight of the Ring Keep
The Ravens
Return to Hell Keep