The Tree Of The Damned

An Awesome Story I found.

The Tree of The Damned.
I walked across the plain of bone beneath the brazen sky. All about me were the skulls of the slain and among them grew black flowers, each twisted bloom a soul in thrall. Crimson-flecked flies sucked at the red nectar in that field and the air tasted bloody in my mouth. The black flowers nodded their heads as I passed and whispered in the bitter-scented breeze. A distant deamon's shriek reached my ears and the sound of tormented laughter drifted past and was swallowed by silence.


And then i came to The Tree of The Damed.


Living souls had hung upon its branches and living souls had fed its roots in ages past. Twisted with the pain of their misguided loyalty, the shades had made their pact and now had their reward. Those same shades moaned with regret and agony, pleading for pity from every branch and twig, save one whose deviant eye I met. I paused at the glare of that eye. The Tree of The Damned spoke in a splintering voice, crying out as if a thousand axes were tearing at his heartwood.


"By my broken faith and darkened promises, a mortal walks in the gardens of blood. Once my roots taste of his mortal body, he is mine and I am him. A man... a man... I will be free in flesh and bone. I will slay for you my master. Blood beyond measure i will spill upon the battlefields of the world. Oh... freedom from this wooden frame that i could once again march to the beat of my heart..."


The tree withered and shook its dark branches and I fled, for my fate does not lay with those trapped and hideous souls...

Another cool story!

The winds of magic screamed and laughed around him. Faster and faster the sky-shark twisted, higher and higher he rose upon a pinnable of fiery ecstacy. At last he realised what extraordinary power lay in the moment, and in a moment the thought was gone and all was speed once more. His body shook in spasms and around his feet the sky-sharks snapped, their skins glistening as magical sea spray burst over their flashing bodies. His scalp tingled and buzzed - the moment would last forever - but soon the sky-sharks would overtake hima and tip him into the waves of the warp. He laughed about and a thousand daemos heard his cry and turned as he tumbled and was lost laughing amonst the foaming pack.

Like Pink and Blue Horrors, Flamers are fashioned from pure magic and are only semi-solid, sometimes seeming almost transparent. They are bizarre creations, travelling along the ground by means of a soft skirt of pinkish flesh rather like an inverted mushroom. By drawing air into this fleshy, fungoid skirt and expelling it by means of a powerful contraction, the creature progresses along the ground in leaps and bounds. By way of arms it has two blue trunks which it can direct as it wishes. The arms have no hands, but instead each trunk ends in an opne orifice from which magical flames spit and spatter.

Flamers have only the most rudimentary and instinctive minds, but they are finely attuned to the thoughts of the Lords of Change. They can sense and are dominated by the thoughts of the nearest or most powerful Lord of Change, and the daemon's wishes become the flamer's wishes so that it acts in total accordance with its masters' desires. Flamers are almost literally the instruments of the Greater Daemon's will.

The flaming limbs give the Flamers their name. However, this is not normal fire but the stuff of raw magic, coloured a daemonic shade of blue ot yellow. The Flamer can use its flames to throw coloured fireballs at its foes, as well as to burn them up in close combat. As the fire crackles and hisses, smaller magical flamers fall to the ground and take on the imitative form of a surrounding object or person - like a tiny marionette. The small representations of persons or event will continue to impersonate what is happening around, but in a curiously disturbing and mocking manner. The Flamer usually ignores these little parodies of reality, but may happen to glance in their direction then destroy them with its magic fire. As the Flamer moves away the little scenes collapse into spluttering pools of magic which slowly fade into nothing. A Flamer will typically be followed by a series of these tiny images, which grow increasingly unstable and vanish as the Flamer moves away.


Albrechi raised his sword to fend off the bludgeaning limb and the blue flamers pattered upon his armour again.

'Damn you Gutterchild of Chaos!' he screamed as the magic gnawed his shoulder.

The Flamer arched its fungoid body high above him. Small blue flames spat from its limbs and fell to the ground. As each magic fire drop fell it immediately vapourised with a hiss. 'Ssdammyooo... damnyou... gutterchild of Chaosss,' it spat. A tiny replica of Albrechi began to form in the blue vapour, a figure wearing black armour and carrying a broadsword like his own, but the face was that of an idiot and the cry that of a spoiled child. 'Damn You! Gutter Rat-a-tat-tat!' it screeched.

The Flamer struck again and the blue fire fell upon him, seeping and crackling into his armour and spattering his eyes and face. His vision swam with blue agony and his legs gave way under him. His sword tumbled to the ground as he collapsed screaming through burning lips. The little marionette lay upon its back kicking and gesturing melodramatically, calling out in its squeaky little voice, 'Hot! Hot! Hot!'

Wouldn't it be easier and fair to the creator to just link to the story itself and give your thoughts on why you think it's so cool?

Explaining in words why I like it is kind of difficult. :(

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Tequila Zaire

Wouldn't it be easier and fair to the creator to just link to the story itself and give your thoughts on why you think it's so cool?

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Oh, here is the link. Notice that at the start that I said I found it, not created it.

http://members.tripod.com/darklib/chaos/gods.html