The Uprising (RP Thread)

[Psiko]

Night has fallen. I used to be able to look up at the sky and be able to tell the difference between day and night, but it has been three years now since the sun last shone on the kingdom of Ferelden. Somehow we've managed to scrape by in a world full of withered vegetation, scrawny game, and pasty complexions. It is rumored that our neighboring kingdoms get at least three hours of sunlight a day still. Many of the inhabitants have set out to move there.

Most of them won't make it through the swarms of undead and demons.

Celeste reminds me that hope still exists. I have a hard time remembering that when I look around me and see the desolation and despair that has torn our proud kingdom apart. It has torn all seven kingdoms apart, one by one. There is no longer trust nor trade between us. Not that caravans would survive the trip, either.

I have made it my objective to reclaim the kingdoms from the evil dominion of Bargolf. There are few left in Ferelden who would stand up against these legions of the undead, and even fewer who would be more than easy prey for the enemy. There are a few of us who still exist, training daily in the old ways until the day comes for us to strike back.

I have trained the past few years in the art of the Paladin, the holy smiter of the undead. My trainer, Celeste, and I are the final two who know the ways of the Paladin in Ferelden. The last of our mages died from starvation three weeks ago. We have one priest and three rouges left here with us, but we train hard and compete to see who can kill the most undead each night. Celete or I always win, but the others have put up notable efforts.

Three weeks ago our last ninja traveled to the coastal kingdom of Kininiccea to see if there are others we could join ranks with. We need more fighters if we are to be able to change the future for the next generation. None of us want our children or grandchildren to grow up in this world. This is no place to raise a family.

A sharp whistle pierces the night. There is the signal that the undead are swarming in, right on time like they do every night. Time for the killing to begin anew. I unsheath my blade and whisper a silent prayer before lunging into another battle, hoping that this will be the final night of battle before our ninja comrade returns with news from the neighboring kingdom.

[Heartless Angel]

The room was dark, damp, cool and unpleasant. Filled with macabre devices, some almost elegant in their brutal simplicity, in others the beauty lies within their terrible complexity. All shared one common purpose: pain and suffering. Though the room was filled with the sounds of these terrible instruments of torment in motion, most were simply drowned out by the chorus of its inhabbitants' screams. Even the bravest and most apathetic of men would struggle to keep their composure hearing the screams of such pure agony; but to a man as cruel as this, these sounds were music.

He walked casually past a few torture devices, simply smiling at those locked in them, almost feeding on their pain, rellishing every ounce of strength they spend in their futile efforts to escape. Though there were dozens of people here he could torment, his attention was fixed on one this night, a woman who had been here for nearly a week. Far longer than most live in this room. Most would break in a matter of hours, and once they were no logner required, they were executed. This woman however, was quite different. In spite of days of torture, she's not uttered a single word. He opened the door to the cell where she's being held. Her eyes met his, but unlike most, they were filled with fury rather than fear. He smiled as he approached the woman, her arms chained to the cieling, her legs to the floor, her naked body stretched out just far enough to cause great discomfort, but not enough to cause any long term damage. "Hello my dear. Would you be so kind as to tell me the location of the rebel group who sent you to me?", he asked politely.

Her first and only response was to spit in his face.

He laughed coldly as he wiped her spit from his face. "I expected as much", he said. She maintained eye contact. This was unusual, most either closed their eyes, or looked away whenever he got this close to them. Her willpower was strong... but it couldn't last forever. "Well, no matter. I've brought a rather special... treat... for you tonight", he said with a sickening grin. He held up a red hot Spanish Spider. "I think we should save this one for later though.", he said, setting it down and looking to a pile of instruments looking contemplative before finally picking up a Pear of Anguish. "How do you feel about this one?", he asked, as he showed her the device, and began to open it, giving her plenty of time to contemplate what he may intend to do with it.

Her face didn't change. She said nothing.

"Quite the conversationalist you are. I think you and I will become very good friends over the next few days." He set the cruel instrument down and finally decided to begin with a simple heated metal spike. He approached the defenseless victim, and held it close to her face, not yet touching her bare flesh with it. He preffered delaying the actual implementation of any of these tools, allowing the victim to imagine the pain before it even began. This alone was enough to extract information from the faint of heart. He lowered the tool to her chest, and looked at her with the same sickening grin. "Well then, anything you'd like to say before we begin?", he asked.

She remained silent.

"I thought not. Well, I'm not worried. I'm certain I'll hear your voice before we finish tonight. Whether it be words or screams is up to you I suppose. Believe me, I'll be quite happy with either.", he said. This was not simple intimidation. He meant it. He wasn't here because he needed to be. He chose to work in the torture chambers simply because he enjoyed it. This was not an ordinary man. He was twisted and saddistic. His heart as black the moonless midnight sky. His cruelty and malice were known far and wide. This was a man so evil, even the denizens of Hell itself dare only whisper his name... A name forever linked to fear and despair... A name which could instill terror in thehearts of all but the steeliest of warriors. This name was...

"Abaddon.", a voice interupted him just before he began the torture.

He turned to see the door to the cell opened, a large armored man looking in. "What is it? Can you not see I am busy?", he asked in an irritated tone.

"His majesty requests audience with you. Immediately.", the man said in a monotone voice.

Abaddon let out a sigh. "I see.", he said, as he returned the metal spike to the pile of hot coals he'd taken it from. He turned to the restrained woman and frowned. "My apologies, but it would seem I've other matters to attend to at present. But despair not my dear, I shall return to play with you again just as soon as I am able.", he said, as he and the large man left the small, damp room and closing the door, leaving the woman in total darkness.

[Imposter]

As night fell on a small harbor town on the boarder of Kininiccea and Ferelden a lone figure walked down one of the docks. Even in the darkness one could hear the massive movements splitting the waves and heading towards the docks. Edmund had been chasing the beast for weeks and now he had found it. The zombie serpent broke through the water surface and smashed a dock close by. He grabbed a javelin from his carrying bag and let it fly towards the beast.

The small javelin bounced off the creature like a small twig, the beasts eyes locked on the man and crashed into the dock with its tail. Edmund managed to run back to the shore and get away from the impending destruction. In an instant Edmund realized his fault. How would he have a chance extracting revenge on the creature that killed G'wain. He looked out into the dark ocean trying to brace himself for the next attack.

The creature lunged forward to devour Edmund but only hit ground. Edmund found himself on the ground a few feet away. A shiloutte stood above him and Edmund quickly got to his feet picking up his bag of javelins and G'wain's spear. He turned to the shadowy figure and began to open his mouth before the serpents tail knocked Edmund flying. Upon impact Edmund fell unconscious.

Edmund awoke on his boat in daylight. He rubbed his face and sat up to see a young woman dressed in black. She spoke out to him in a langauge he didn't understand. Figuring she must be from a different kingdom Edmund managed to fumble through the common trade language thanking her and asking where they were going. As she began to explain Edmund's eyes wandered from her to a small letter that had fell to the ground. It was addressed to him from G'wain.

He apologized for not listening and picked up the letter asking if she had brought it she responded saying she had no idea. He picked it up and set it down listening. She recounted a tale of being part of a small group trying to fend of Bargolf's reign and then asked why he was trying to get himself killed. Edmund's expression got a little serious and began explaining his time with G'wain. Hours passed as the two conversed on the sea headed back toward Ferelden.

[Heartless Angel]

He knelt before Bargolf, as was expected of any man adressing the King, even one of the Hellblades who stood beside him as equals during the war. Upon completion of the formal greeting, Bargolf motioned for everyone else in the room to leave, which they did without hesistation. Bargolf stepped towards him. "Rise Abaddon. I've been hearing some interesting rumors as of late.", he said, as he began pacing back and forth before the dark knight.

"Rumors... My lord?", he asked, knowing that rumors usually meant he was about to be deployed to massacre a small village.

"Yes. Rumors. Though it's probably nothing of any significance, word has begun to spread of a small group forming in the south that seeks to challenge my rule.", he paused, walked towards the knight, looking him in the eye. "I have no interest in being challenged, Abaddon.", he said.

He smirked. "Of course my lord. I undertand. You wish me to... investiagate the matter... and ensure that any who may try will fail, and to discourage any more from trying.", he said.

"You learn quickly. The rumors suggest that a small group of warriors trained in the forbidden arts is forming, growing in strength and numbers, and plotting to overthrow my reign. Find the source of these rumors. Confirm their accuracy. If the source is a liar, execute him. Publicly. Painfully.", he said.

"And if the source is not a liar?", he interupted.

"Then you will make him one.", he said apathetically. "Give no quarter.", he finished.

To this Abaddon replied only with that same sickening smile...