Demon's Reign

[Old Treecko]

“Bring me the man who is peaceful,” growled the King Demon, who was sitting comfortably on his fiery throne. “I want him to be the one to make us rise.” The three other demons left the room, and came back with a black mirror. They handed it to the King Demon, who snatched it up, and held it up to his face. Instead of seeing his black, charcoaled face, he saw the old face of King Wermort. Wermort was the king of the peaceful country Awysef. “Ohh, yes!” cried the King Demon. “He will be the one!” And he watched with a giddy expression as Wermort’s pleasant face twisted in anger, and received an uncanny resemblance to the King Demon. His chin was pointed, and his hair grew shoulder-length. His beard was now gone, and instead, his mouth was curved into a grim smile. “That should do it,” hissed the King Demon. “He will set the continent of Ordut to war, and offer us three members of the three other royal families of Ordut. That will let the angels’ guard down, and let us go into the Human Realm!” The three demons cheered, and soon other demons had come to cheer, too.


Up a level, in the mortal world, King Wermort was thrashing about, snarling and growling. The priests suspected that he was possessed. The scholars thought that he was falling under the pressure of being king. Over and over, King Wermort reassured them, saying, “I’m fine.” But one day, he took it farther than ever. “I want to go to war,” he said. And since he was the king, no one questioned him. They marched right in line, and got ready for war against the three other countries in the continent. They would take Loacef first. Then Fijion would go. Finally, Zedemo would be conquered. Wermort was a madman. He ordered all the men to train, all the little boys to hunt for food, all the women to make the weaponry, and all the young girls to sew clothing. After three days, the men were powerful, the little boys were expert hunters, and the women were becoming stronger. “It is time,” said Wermort, and he brought his men into battle.




Going up one more level, in Heaven, the angels were watching with fear. They flitted about, this way and that, and cried in fear. They did not know what the demons were planning because the mortal world was blocking their way. But of course, the demons had no idea what the angels could have been planning- if they were even planning something. They sought the Head Angel’s advice, but she gave none. “We must wait. We do not know if Wermort is even possessed.” Ooc- What will you be? An angel? A Demon? A defending country? Or, will you help Wermort become overlord to all?

[Evoth]

ooc: I'll put a character together for this rp....that is if anyone is still going to carry it out.

[Old Treecko]

ooc-Yes. I will RP here, now that someone's going to help. It's just kind of against my nature to reply to my own topic unless someone replies first.

[Evoth]

A figure flew through the skies, cloaked by the clouds. From the clouds, diving like a bat out of Hell emerge a divine figure. Wrapped in only simple garments of dull white linen shirt and ebon pants. His chestnut brown hair blew vigorously in the wind as he dived. The angel flew far from home. Things had been going wrong in the world.

War breaking out across the land. Vyse had enough watching from the Heavens. He had disobeyed orders to not go down to the mortal world. Flyng above an abandoned battlefield. It marred, littered with the bodies of the dead. The outcome of the battle was clear. King Wermort's army had won the battle.

ooc: A little short for an intro but I think it should work for now.

[Old Treecko]

King Wermort was not himself. Even he knew that. But he couldn't question his brain because he was under complete control of the King Demon. Whatever the King Demon commanded of him, he did. Whatever Wermort did wrong, one simple word made him stop.

Of course, Wermort didn't know that he was being controlled. He just heard a whisper in his head, and he did it. After all, it was his brain speaking, right?

"Bring me the firstborn of Loacef!" cried the King Demon at no one but the air, waving his mirror in the air like a fan. When you are a permanent resident of Hell, it gets hot. "Oh, and you!" He pointed to one of the demons standing by the door. "Get me some of what the humans call water! I'm dyin' here!"

[Evoth]

The near silent beat of wings was all that he heard as he flew over the kingdom. "Nothing but war." Vyse muttered to himself. He was flying over a village. Smoke poured from the blacksmith, people ran threw the streets. All gathering their supplies to keep the war machine moving.

It seemed that the demon king really had everything planned out. Perhaps he even had it planned that the divine would intervene. No, surely he didn't plan on just one angel appearing in the mortal world. Ahead Vyse could see the human's castle. He slowed himself down and descended into the village.

[Old Treecko]

"We will march now!" King Wermort roared at his general, who was completely intimidated. "I don't care the state of the troops! Loacef must be defeated!"

"Erm," whimpered the general, who was quivering under the king's might, "what do you mean, we?" But he had already guessed it: King Wermort was to march with the soldiers to Loacef, and he was to kill their heir with his own hands. When Wermort had said this, the general, who had never really warmed up to Wermort's new, demonic personality, felt a flame of hope rise up inside of him. If Wermort was killed, the war would end.

Of course, the King Demon refused to let Wermort die. He decided to give Wermort, who was adamant about his great idea (and don't get him wrong, the King Demon liked it, too), a special kind of gift. The Shield of Sorrow, the only defensive type of warfare item Hell had, recieved its power by absorbing the tears and depression of others. If you pressed it against your body, it would make even the strongest of lances bounce off of you like it was made of paper. The King Demon smiled as the cool feeling of the water touched his lips. Soon he would have all of this wonderful...water all to himself. This thought energized him, and he used the transportation mirror much easier. The Shield of Sorrow was gone in an instant, off to Wermort's castle.

[Evoth]

Vyse walked amongst the people. His wings hidden from the denizens of the village. For now he was one of them. It appeared that war had been hard on them. They had been fighting a losing battle and things seemed to get worse. Wounded from the battlefield began to slowly appear in the village. Bloody and broken, it only brought more grief to the villages.

From the edge of the village Vyse watched as the ragged band of troops made their way homes, "So even Hell can spread its domain far beyond its borders." His words were soft but firm. A wounded archer limped past the angel as though he didn't see him and dropped to the ground; he was dead.

A low rumble came from the East. Vyse turned toward the strange disturbance. Birds screeched with an unruly desire to flee. What could the noise be. Vyse took to the skies in hopes to see. Dust filled the low plains as the rumble grew louder. It quickly became clear what the noise was. Troops. Hundreds of them marched across the plains. On foot and horse back, they marched quickly. "Damn! They're already here!"

Vyse flew above the village. Shouting at the top of his lungs in hopes to carry the message of incoming troops. "Grab your weapons! The time is upon you to defend your homes and kin. Wermort's troops quickly approach!" The angel didn't know if his warning came too late. The people below quickly scrambled about. Tossing aside their daily tasks to arm themselves in hopes to defend against the impending army.

[Old Treecko]

The army marched with determination. They also had the hope their general had. The kind that meant that they wished their king dead. The cavalry had brought their finest stallions, by order of King Wermort. He wanted the army to look quick, efficient, and neat. The horses kicked up the dirt, causing the speedy foot soldiers to slow down and cough. One glare from the general was all it took for them to regain their speed and re-assume their position at the sides of the horses. That way, if they were clobbered by a hoof, the Shield of Sorrow would work.

King Wermort ordered a special fleet of men, whom had no talent at all, to take the lead. Their lives would also fuel the Shield. And right at the front, with the special fleet, was Wermort himself. He was riding a stone gray stallion, matching his stone cold face. The stallion's eyes seemed to glow with fury, as if the Devil of horses were possessing it as well. It was all the "fleet" could do to keep up with him.

"Go!" King Wermort barked at the fleet he was with. "Attack with all you have!" The fleet reluctantly dashed ahead while the rest of the army hung back. Wermort had his men drink water so they wouldn't get thirsty during the battle. Then, when the sun started to set, he rose and brought the army to attention. In a few minutes, they came upon the bloody battlefield, where most of his fleet had died.

Quickly taking the shield from his saddlebag, King Wermort narrowed his eyes. Then he held it down to the ground (Instead of up into the sky, because then he would be offering it to Heaven) and waited. The blood of the dead and wounded turned into crystalline prisms. They levitated to the blue shield like metal would to a magnet. Suddenly the shield grew larger and lighter. It turned into a cylinder and trapped Wermort inside of it, making him a midnight shade of blue. Surveying the town just ahead, he smirked. "Let the battle begin," he growled.

[Evoth]

"Damn!" the words were harsh. Vyse hadn't expected this, "That beast from the underworld gave him the Shield! When the Archangels hear of this, war will be emanate." Gazing about the field, he looked upon the broken bodies of Wermort's sacrifices. It was a disgusting act that was performed.

Soldiers began their march towards the town. The villagers wouldn't stand a chance out in the open. A massacre would be at hand unless they fell back to the castle's protection. "It's the only way." Vyse launched himself into the skies and took flight over the village, "Fall back to the castle. Let the walls be your defense." Shouting orders like a commander wasn't something he like, but it had to be done.

The villagers retreated behind the stone walls of the castle. The gates were shut and sealed by massive wooden beams. Archers placed themselves in intervals across the wall tops and strung their bows. Everyone was ready for the battle. Whether it cost them their lives or not. As long as the Royals lived, there was a way to fight.

[Old Treecko]

King Wermort did not feel like fighting. He just wanted to kill the royal blood and finish it all. The old Wermort was fighting inside of him, telling him to stop, but the Devil's shrieks of laughter and loud commands blocked him out. All Wermort could do was listen to the Devil and do his bidding.

He led his troops into the village then. Spotting no one, he decided that he should move on. Loacef's Royal Family was ahead, along with their princess ((It's safe to assume no one's going to join as him/her now, I think)), the one who would die. Quickly, the rode (and ran) off into the night, aiming to arrive at the castle grounds in the morning. The soldiers were all tired, but King Wermort assured them that if they did not keep running, he would cut off their heads and use them for his shield.

[Evoth]

ooc: Sorry >< I didn't know that you had replied.

Vyse landed on the castle top with a soft thud. Beneath him the villagers clamored behind the castle walls. Fear was instilled in their hearts. Their homeland had been invaded by Welmort’s forces, destroying all that stood before their path. Even with Alix’s somewhat early warning many had been lost at the hands of Welmort’s suicidal militia. What could this meager force possible do to withstand the impending battle?

Slowly in a stampede like fashion, the villagers unable to fight (wounded, old, etc.) made their way into the halls of the castle, “They’ll be safe….for now.” He thought to himself. He leaned over the edge and gazed down upon the denizens of the village. It was as if he were back in the heavens. That piece of mind was shattered with the sight of Welmort’s army upon the village.

Vyse closed his eyes. What could he do now? All the people were now caged. There wasn’t a way to escape. Opening his eyes, Vyse caught glispe of something in the streets. There in the middle of cobbled path stood a figure dressed in a worn traveler cloak as brown as the earth beneath their feet.

[Old Treecko]

Wermort and his army did not care about the figure in the cloak, and had contimued on, chasing the army to the castle walls. Wermort had noticed the figure, and his good side had forced him to turn his head and look, but the person, or whatever it was, was soon trampeled by many a horse that were following.

The fact that no one noticed this poor...thing (for Wermort had had experience with intelligent things other than humans) both upset and powered King Wermort. He brushed the upsetting feeling aside, knowing that many people would be killed in his path.

"Charge!" He yelled at the top of his lungs. Two men who had been wheeling a cannon stopped trying to push it (Honestly, I have no idea how they managed to push it that far. It must have been the Devil's tampering.) and fired at the gates.