Damien embraces the powers of his arm, his nails growing into sharp, black claws. He thrusts the arm into The Creator’s open wound and absorbs the Creator’s power. Damien’s skin grows a dark tint of red aside his natural pale tone, and the veins around his body merge into a murky black. Some veins almost pop out of his skin with the sheer pressure of the power being consumed. A blinding explosion-like light emits from where Damien is standing, blinding all those who were watching from afar. The colossus impact that came next sent shock waves that rocked the earth beneath them and reduced the most nearby town to rubble.
As the dust cleared, The Creator’s rotting corpse lay dead, swollen and blackened with the fiery impact of the explosion. And atop the rubble of the walls around the rip in reality sat Damien, in his throne. His eyes were as black as the void in his heart had become, his skin was as pale as his tint was an uncanny red glow. All the veins around his eyes had surfaced, pumping the black demon blood through his cursed skin. His throne of rubble was littered with the blood and the bones of those who died helping him and those who died trying to flee, scorched clean and white from the blast that shook everything in its path. Damien tilted his head with a twisted grin, and as he announced the realm’s new fate, the entire world shook with his voice.
“Heed me humans. Now’st time to tremble in fear of me. Many of you have done so in’t past, this’s where your judgment was wrong. For now, is’t judgement day. And Demons now rule this realm.”
The whole island fell silent, the world fell silent. That was the beginning of the new era where demons were no longer to feel fear, and they were to be dominant. With Damien ruling, demons hunted down humans for sport, crazed with their newfound freedom, they fell victim to their bloodlust and killed each other. Demons who sheltered humans were tortured and executed or sent into exile through the seas, which no one ever returned from. Chaos reigned, and Damien smote all beacons of hope the minute they were lit. As the years grew old and new days rolled in like waves on a beach, Damien’s throne became ever more littered with the remains of the Golden Knights. Insistent on taking revenge on them in the most brutal way possible, as they brutally slaughtered his parents.
The island burned, and all civilization was in ruins. Lord Damien had forced those who opposed him to his death, demons were either feral or cowering, fearing him, and most of the humans had been hunted down and butchered.
Cannon Ending? Never decided one.
Please let me know what ending feels the most likely to be cannon.
Realms of Tanerila is a Choose Your Own Adventure story written 5 years ago by myself for my HNC Games Development course. I started well… then I wrote the rest in a couple of hours at 4am because the deadline was too long, and I forgot about it.
A massive tear in the fabric of the realm itself, almost unbelievable to the human eye, was before Damien. It was as if someone had torn a hole in a painting, but the painting was reality. The Creator loomed over Damien as he pulled himself from his fiery prison of death and clambered into the world of the living.
The flesh of what was once the holy and undeniable light which brought the realm to be was now rancid and rotten, peeling down to the bone, exposing both the muscles and bones that made up his immortal body. He stood at around 200 ft (60.96 metres), standing slumped in the remains of his carcass. Soon he would consume everyone the cultist order offered him. They would take over, plunging the world into their dark fantasy and ruling the realms as they wished, all starting with the little island that Damien had forever called his home.
The battle between the Golden Knights and the Cultists had come to an end and everything was at a standstill. The breath of The Creator blew through the air like a rancid and tropical wind, like a breeze in the Amazon amidst a murky swamp. All fell silent as both groups came to terms with what was in front of them, their fate, their death, and their salvation. Faces filled with horror and despair, whereas others were filled with a lustful greed and insane excitement for what was to come.
*SMASH*
Amidst the silence, a smash echoed throughout the crater, all heads turned in the direction of the glass impacting with the ground only to the treasured relic shattered across the ground.
Panic.
The sudden breach of silence not only sent the Golden Knights in a flurry, but with the relic destroyed, the cultists had no way of controlling the creator any more. To have just as doomed fate as the Golden Knights if they stayed. The Creator was free, free to carry out his revenge against all of humanity. He would destroy everything, he will destroy everything, and no one could stop him.
Damien sighs, “Well, not a thing lies ahead of me. Most would look at me and wish me dead. Guess now is time to grant them their wish.” Damien gave a slight chuckle, feeling that this was a rather reckless action to make as there was not much of a chance he would survive, nevertheless actually destroy The Creator. He unsheathed his sword and strode up to the looming corpse of the lost god.
Damien called upon his forbidden power once again, emitting an unsightly black-red glow he lunged at the Creator, slicing its leg open with due intent. The force of Damien, equal to the power the same size of The Creator, forced the creator down onto the ground. Weak after being reborn, The Creator flailed, his brain having almost fully decomposed after being dead for so long. All the Creator could do was grunt and groan and swing his massive, decomposing arms.
With the Creator on his knees, Damien ran up to make another attempt at stabbing the Creator, only to be batted a sheer distance from the creator’s propelling arms. Being launched into a Cliffside, Damien had caught the attention of some other half-demons, seeing his bravery and stupidity of fighting The Creator, they helped Damien to his feet and joined him in the battle.
The battle went on for what seemed like hours, the half-demons making attacks on the Creator, essentially distracting him from Damien so that he can deal the critical blows. But despite their efforts, the Creator started killing them slowly one by one with the hits they were taking from them. Damien was at a loss, seeing people like him, die due to his own stupid actions, he felt guilty. Suddenly, his arm started pulsating as if it were drawing power from The Creator, filling him with a sense of anger and threatening to glaze his eyes over with the blindness of rage. He resisted and followed where this feeling was eluding from. The back of the neck, jugular. The Creator’s neck was a hive for demon infection, and among the blistering and swollen flesh there was a single sword wound from where the jealous priests had murdered The Creator before. This was it, it was to end where it all started, and all he had to do was finish him with his sword.
Damien turned around to see both Naya and the Cultist Leader watching over him from quite close, the remnants of the Golden Knights hiding upon the yonder cliffs, cowards in their metal suits. Both people triggering something fierce within him. Damien slashes at The Creator’s neck, causing a harsh and unearthly howl to emit from the almost non-existent giant. Noticing that Damien had decided to take on the giant and looked to be winning, a few of the Golden Knights came to his aid, fighting alongside the demons and Damien.
And thanks to all the allies, the Creator collapsed as he had before to the hands of the jealous priests, but this time it was righteous. This time it was done not just by the had which he had made, but the curse that he had made to turn humanity and the afflicted against each other.
The Creator barely alive, Damien looks up again. Naya and the Cultist Leader had started a brawl, and while Naya was winning, it was evident that the Cultist Leader was holding back for something. Occasionally glancing over at Damien, eagerly awaiting what he would do. His mind racing, why would he be anticipating something? There’s only one way that this is going, The Creator is essentially dead. All that was needed was a killing blow, and even without that, the zombie god would surely pass regardless. Something almost instinctual hit, a burning rage from deep within, simmering, whispering, guiding with muscle memory-like actions. Calling for him to do something.
The demon part of me is not even me, I was cursed to be like this, and I’m about to kill the creator of the curse. It will control me, and be a burden to me no longer. I have a life to look forward to and someone I hope to live for. He will not control me. >>
No, he has something up his sleeve, I can’t risk it. Whatever this is, I need to take control of it and make sure that nothing hurts Naya. He’s the reason my parents died, why everyone scorns me, I’m making sure he’s dead as soon as I kill the Creator. I’m following this instinct. >>
Realms of Tanerila is a Choose Your Own Adventure story written 5 years ago by myself for my HNC Games Development course. I started well… then I wrote the rest in a couple of hours at 4am because the deadline was too long, and I forgot about it.
A massive tear in the fabric of the realm itself, almost unbelievable to the human eye, was before Damien. It was as if someone had torn a hole in a painting, but the painting was reality. The Creator loomed over Damien as he pulled himself from his fiery prison of death and clambered into the world of the living.
The flesh of what was once the holy and undeniable light which brought the realm to be was now rancid and rotten, peeling down to the bone, exposing both the muscles and bones that made up his immortal body. He stood at around 200 ft (60.96 metres), standing slumped in the remains of his carcass. Soon he would consume everyone the cultist order offered him. They would take over, plunging the world into their dark fantasy and ruling the realms as they wished, all starting with the little island that Damien had forever called his home.
The battle between the Golden Knights and the Cultists had come to an end and everything was at a standstill. The breath of The Creator blew through the air like a rancid and tropical wind, like a breeze in the Amazon amidst a murky swamp. All fell silent as both groups came to terms with what was in front of them, their fate, their death, and their salvation. Faces filled with horror and despair, whereas others were filled with a lustful greed and insane excitement for what was to come.
*SMASH*
Amidst the silence, a smash echoed throughout the crater, all heads turned in the direction of the glass impacting with the ground only to the treasured relic shattered across the ground.
Panic.
The sudden breach of silence not only sent the Golden Knights in a flurry, but with the relic destroyed, the cultists had no way of controlling the creator any more. To have just as doomed fate as the Golden Knights if they stayed. The Creator was free, free to carry out his revenge against all of humanity. He would destroy everything, he will destroy everything, and no one could stop him.
Damien sighs, “Well, not a thing lies ahead of me. Most would look at me and wish me dead. Guess now is time to grant them their wish.” Damien gave a slight chuckle, feeling that this was a rather reckless action to make as there was not much of a chance he would survive, nevertheless actually destroy The Creator. He unsheathed his sword and strode up to the looming corpse of the lost god.
Damien called upon his forbidden power once again, emitting an unsightly black-red glow he lunged at the Creator, slicing its leg open with due intent. The force of Damien, equal to the power the same size of The Creator, forced the creator down onto the ground. Weak after being reborn, The Creator flailed, his brain having almost fully decomposed after being dead for so long. All the Creator could do was grunt and groan and swing his massive, decomposing arms.
With the Creator on his knees, Damien ran up to make another attempt at stabbing the Creator, only to be batted a sheer distance from the creator’s propelling arms. Being launched into a Cliffside, Damien had caught the attention of some other half-demons, seeing his bravery and stupidity of fighting The Creator, they helped Damien to his feet and joined him in the battle.
The battle went on for what seemed like hours, the half-demons making attacks on the Creator, essentially distracting him from Damien so that he can deal the critical blows. But despite their efforts, the Creator started killing them slowly one by one with the hits they were taking from them. Damien was at a loss, seeing people like him, die due to his own stupid actions, he felt guilty. Suddenly, his arm started pulsating as if it were drawing power from The Creator, filling him with a sense of anger and threatening to glaze his eyes over with the blindness of rage. He resisted and followed where this feeling was eluding from. The back of the neck, jugular. The Creator’s neck was a hive for demon infection, and among the blistering and swollen flesh there was a single sword wound from where the jealous priests had murdered The Creator before. This was it, it was to end where it all started, and all he had to do was finish him with his sword.
Damien thrusts the sword into The Creator’s neck, causing a harsh and unearthly howl to emit from the almost non-existent giant. Noticing that Damien had decided to take on the giant and looked to be winning, most of the Golden Knights came to his aid, fighting alongside the demons and Damien.
And thanks to all the allies, the Creator collapsed as he had before to the hands of the jealous priests, but this time it was righteous. This time it was done not just by the had which he had made, but the curse that he had made to turn humanity and the afflicted against each other. He was dead, and definitely this time. No magical rain which turns everyone into demons was a plus.
Damien rose from the corpse, climbing atop its very limbs to get a view of everyone. Most of the Knights were unharmed and, most importantly, Derkeethus was intact. He had been standing on a nearby boulder shouting incantations and prayers towards the Knight’s to keep them protected, he was still praying as he probably didn’t notice the battle was over. Considering he was still shaking, and the noise hadn’t died down from the wails of death, to the shrieks of victory, it was understandable. Damien made his way to Derkeethus, but just as he climbed down from the Creator’s torso, an injured voice called out for him.
“… D-Damien…” Weakly cried the Captain of the Golden Knights. He had been crushed under the limbs of the Creator, rendering his entire body to a bloody sack of broken bones and organs.
“H-help…” He stumbled weakly trying to claw his way out, then grimacing in pain as his entire body below his shoulders was essentially mush.
He planned to kill me after this whole ordeal. He deserves his fate. The rest of the knights, however, came to my aid when I needed it most. The actions of one man with too much power and “authority” will not have me paint the rest with a similar brush. >>
He planned to kill me after this whole ordeal. He deserves his fate. Despite being aided by the knights, I still feel like I will be outcast, if not more now due to this event. Others within the Knights will attempt to heed the Captain’s wishes to kill me. If it’s not their loyalty that will have them slay me and other demons, then they’ll say it’s tradition. It’s best if I leave, Derkeethus will be safer without my presence. >>
Realms of Tanerila is a Choose Your Own Adventure story written 5 years ago by myself for my HNC Games Development course. I started well… then I wrote the rest in a couple of hours at 4am because the deadline was too long, and I forgot about it.
After being left behind by the Cultists, Naya and Damien had nothing to do but stick to the boundaries of the Temple. Although they’d been there for months, and for Naya it was probably years, they’d never been able to access the dungeons as there were always cultists guarding that area. Their rooms hardly differed from the cells in which they’d kept their prisoners, even the ones they only kept for demon-food. Everyone was gone except them and the prisoners, and they wanted to know why.
Adventuring down into the damp, cold depths of the cave which they carved out their “dungeon”, they came across a lone cell with one man inside it. The man residing in it jumped to his feet and seemed not only to recognise Damien, but was very eager to talk to him.
He said weakly but with excitement, “Hey you! Get me out of here, please!”
Damien shook his head, “We’re not here to free you. We are just wandering around.”
The old man peered at Damien, “Damien? Damien! You look so much older than the last time I saw you. Of course, you were just a child…”
Damien just looked perplexed at the old man. “Just because you know my name does not mean I will free you. People speak of me plenty.”
“Listen, I was friends with your father, Sebastian. We used to be part of the Golden Knights until he was afflicted with the curse. They kicked him out and when I refused to break contact with him, they exiled me too!”
Damien sneered, “Then you were quick to abandon my father then after they kicked you out too?”
The old man insisted, “No, no! I accompanied your father various times after that until he told me what the cultists were planning. Thereafter, he got killed, and I got captured by the cul–.”
Naya interrupted brashly, “What do you mean ‘What the cultists were planning’? They’re going to free us all and help us get equal status within the realm so that we can live like real people again!”
The old man cleared his throat and looked at Damien. “Damien, your father told me what the cultists plan to do and everything they have done. They were the ones that convinced the Creator to share his powers with them. They struck him down out of greed and jealousy! They were the ones who caused the cursed rain to fall upon us and afflict us. These cultists are power crazy and are unsatisfied with how little they’ve gained! They’re now carrying the plan to revive the Creator and enthral him, so they can use him for infinite power. And you and the rest of the demons are his fuel, they were training you up to unlock your powers so that when the Creator consumes you, he will produce magic that the cultists had only ever dreamed of.”
Feeling betrayed, emotions running high, Naya ripped open the cell door to the old man and squared him off. He stumbled backwards and fell, dust rising as he hit the ground. Sneering at the old man, she turned tail and stormed off on a mission to fight the Cultist leader, Damien trailing along behind her, feeling the sharp burn of guilt on his neck.
But they would not arrive in time to stop the summoning.
Showdown
Realms of Tanerila is a Choose Your Own Adventure story written 5 years ago by myself for my HNC Games Development course. I started well… then I wrote the rest in a couple of hours at 4am because the deadline was too long, and I forgot about it.
Annoyed that he had been excluded from assignments, both Derkeethus and Damien wandered the great halls of the embassy. They laughed and joked about their time on the team, but they both had realized that the embassy was not the right place for either of them. While Derk was spectacular at casting prayer, work in the embassy put him in a lot of danger with no way to defend himself.
Damien, on the other hand, had felt the negative presence when he’d joined, he knew he wasn’t entirely welcome. It still wasn’t enough to convince him to leave, but as soon as the situation with the cultists was over, he knew there wasn’t much reason to stay. When the conversation came to question whether they would part ways or not, they heard a loud conversation in the distance between the Captain and his Lieutenant.
“I come back from leave after my wife giving birth to our first son, only to find out he’s been afflicted by the curse before he’s even entered our world… and I find that you, of all people, have enlisted the very demon spawn of the pair of demons pretending to be a happy family?!” the Lieutenant shouted at the Captain, Damien had frozen on the spot with Derkeethus preparing to hold him back from breaking down their door.
The Captain insisted with a sly growl, “Trust me Lieutenant, I have the perfect use for him. He will destroy the cultists for us, and then we kill him afterwards…”
The lieutenant scoffed, “You better know what you’re doing Captain, he is just as afflicted by the curse his parents were…” He continued, “I remember the day… Spotting them while we were on a hunting party looking for rabid demons that patrol the forest. We found his parents walking back towards the village with a cart full to the brim with goods for the village. We attacked his parents and stole the supplies for ourselves… Killing happy demons is hard enough, but with him out looking for revenge, I would rather not be caught in that…”
The captain insisted again, sound even slyer than last time, “That, won’t, happen….” “Send the troops to the mouth of the ancient caverns. They plan to do their ritual there using the standing stones placed there by the creator himself. I’ll get my legion ready, make sure you do too.”
Showdown
Realms of Tanerila is a Choose Your Own Adventure story written 5 years ago by myself for my HNC Games Development course. I started well… then I wrote the rest in a couple of hours at 4am because the deadline was too long, and I forgot about it.
Growing darker in his heart each day, Damien had almost succumbed to his cursed powers. He could use them at full capacity and was able to withstand an excruciating amount of pain, no matter how damaging it was to him. Naya was put through the same treatment, and although she could not compare in strength, she could withstand a lot more punishment than Damien ever could.
But due to their interest in each other, their humanity still dwindled like a lone candle in the night. Demons felt no emotion except the burning rage and hatred, so for a demon to express anything apart from that was frowned upon, even more so towards each other. They were still human, even though they’d shredded most of their humanity, their growing affection for each other was the single thread still keeping them “alive”. As a result, they weren’t trusted fully by the rest of the cult, and were subjected to unnecessary amounts of “demon training”, which is a nice way of saying “more torture”.
Despite this, the cultists felt that they were to test their new demons. Damien and Naya also wishing to test out their newfound skills and prove that they are ready to help the cause, agreed to their first-ever assignment. Their task was to retrieve the ancient relic that lay in the centre of the Ethereum temple. Both had been assigned to sneak in there, past all the troops, and take it while they were waiting for a front door attack. This was a suicide mission. About 50 soldiers versus them, and if they made one move wrong, they were dead. That was just the kind of thrill Damien was seeking, and if it all went wrong, then 50 soldiers massacred inside the Ethereum temple should be a good message to the Golden Knights, even if he died in the process.
Both Damien and Naya were sent through a portal to a prayer room in the church, and made sure to stick to the shadows. It was a stealth mission, something that Damien was naturally unsuited to. Naya was better at this, as her slim and tiny frame almost rendered her invisible, yet she was muscular enough to throw herself across the room and pull herself up ledges with ease. Damien, on the other hand, stuck to moving around in the shadows less gracefully and more cautiously as his bigger and bulkier frame wouldn’t make him less capable of that, just a lot louder.
Reaching the centre of the temple, they found a fat teen monk reciting spells to the relic. With no one around to guard him, Naya sneaked up on him and killed him instantly. The chubby monk flopped to the floor, the glow emanating from his hands fading as his life drained away. It’s unusual that someone this age would be a monk, especially having the ability to preform what looked to be a powerful prayer. Nevertheless, he was dead, and no trouble to them now.
Both Damien and Naya were awed by the relic, shiny and made entirely out of glass, having a greenish aura around it. Lights floated around it like fireflies as they danced around the room. They danced closely around Naya and Damien and the deceased monk, gently touching the skin and bouncing back off. The warm glow of the lights was entrancing, and actually producing a tiny, comforting warmth. A momentary release from the world, their minds drifted, a daydream, their minds enchanted of a better world. Be it through the delusions the cultists had been feeding them, or from their ideals imagining something so vastly different from their shit lives, the illusion was almost worth not returning from. A vision of each other, suddenly filling the frame, popping their illusionary bubble and turning the focus to each other. It was the artefact, a tiny enchantment, realising the fact that they were still human and extremely attracted to each other. Their humanity blossoming for just a moment…
Suddenly, there was shouting, and their gaze spun from the relic to the door. The guards had spotted them and were sounding the alarm. The reality set back in, Naya went to snatch the relic, and just before she could, it gave off an explosion of light and dust that sent the lights flying away from them. The particles hitting the soldiers and sinking into their skin, they started transforming and mutating as the demon curse infected them at an enhanced rate. Ripping their humanity from them instead of the slow burn that Naya and Damien experience, forcing their bodies to morph, decomposing and recomposing on a cellular basis. This is what the cultists wanted them to become, mindless drones of rage and violence, controlled by the leader. That brief moment they realised that they didn’t want this, but after months of brainwashing and training, it was hard not to succumb to emotion.
Damien took out his sword as the enraged, cursed soldiers swung their swords at them like raving lunatics. A crooked and wry grin grew on Damien’s face as he charged at the afflicted soldiers craving a path back to the portal, with Naya following close behind him near enough decapitating a few on her way.
Returning, the duo continued to report to the leader, although a little more unsure of their cause. After hearing the news of what happened with the relic, the Cultists Leader suggested that they stay within the cultist lair, as the raw power that was given off may be dangerous. They were to spend the rest of their time here until the Creator was reborn. To them, the relic didn’t seem to be dangerous, why were they being excluded? Naya, more insulted than Damien as she had spent a lot more time here, hushed by the leader as he ushered them to their dungeon-like rooms.
>>Dungeon Despair
Realms of Tanerila is a Choose Your Own Adventure story written 5 years ago by myself for my HNC Games Development course. I started well… then I wrote the rest in a couple of hours at 4am because the deadline was too long, and I forgot about it.
After months of training, Damien was given his own golden sword, super effective against demons as the gold burned their skin. It had to be specially altered in Damien’s design as if it touched his skin he would be severely injured. He wielded it with great prowess as he practised upon the dummies in the courtyard. The blade was balanced to perfection, and now he was finally ready.
At the most appropriate time, a new assignment came in, the Cultists were on the path to a relic of unknown power that had been sealed in the temple of Ethereum where the Creator had been destroyed. They sought to use it to open a rift in reality and bring him back from the dead. Damien was ultimately assigned as he was the newest to be trained into the ranks of the Golden. Damien was paired with his now best friend Derkeethus as each pair needed a mage and a swordsman, so who better than someone he knew he could trust? Setting out to Ethereum, the Captain overlooked his troops from his tower.
Upon arriving beneath Ethereum, Derkeethus was already fatigued. Being short and overweight wasn’t the only thing that had made him unfit, as in comparison to the rigorous training Damien had undergone, most training for Derk was magical and un-taxing.
Damien had lain Derkeethus on a miniature cart he’d found along the way, and was pulling him along behind him by his waist rope belt. With still a long hike left to go, Damien woke up Derkeethus to prepare him from the freezing temperatures ahead that guarded the temple of Ethereum. Pulling Derkeethus up behind him, one hand drawn to his sword, whilst the other pulled he and Derkeethus behind him up the cliff face. Derk was sitting cross-legged on the cart with his hands together, in the perfect position for his incantations, which protected against the force of the magical ice storm.
Arriving at the gates of Ethereum, they met with the rest of the troops supplied by the Golden Knights and made their way in, securing the perimeter and guarding the relic. These knights were not of the “Golden” status, which Damien had obtained. They were regular knights, almost no different to your common guard, yet were more akin to soldiers than guardsmen. Despite being just out of training, Damien was the highest-ranking member here, besides Derkeethus, the setup was oddly undermanned for such a priceless artefact.
Damien kept a close eye on both Derkeethus and the relic that was in the centre of the temple.
It was quiet. The temple walls creaked and groaned as the wind battered the windows, every so often an icy chill would crawl through the halls and drive a chill up the troops’ spines. They guarded the door as Derkeethus began to work on removing the relic from its boundaries without cursing himself and everyone else in the entire temple. One single mistake could have the entire group of people here dead, or worse.
Suddenly, slicing, clashing, and the sounds of life escaping from the mouths of deceased souls rang through the temple like a bad dream. Cultists came swarming in through the halls of the temple, gutting everyone in their way and taking no prisoners. The troops were powerless against them as they whittled their way through the sheer number of them, surprise was the best advantage and they took it.
Derkeethus was finished, as soon as he was done making the relic safe to touch, he was grabbed by two of the cultists and almost killed if it weren’t for Damien’s quick actions. Trying to be brave, Derkeethus stood tall as he could and clasped his hands together in an effort to protect his friends. His voice still wavering with fear, he recited psalms as loud as he could to strengthen and heal his comrades. Damien fought off all the attempts to best him, using his weaker hand, as he was strictly forbidden to embrace his powers, as his rage would consume him.
Cultists in the room realised Derkeethus was protecting the soldiers and started targetting him. Due to Derk having to concentrate on his prayers, he had no way to defend himself, so Damien risked his life to defend him. More and more cultists poured in like a swarm of bees, it was too much. Damien grabbed the sword with his demon arm and swung it around with all his force, sending cultists that weren’t even near him flying back into distant pillars. Letting it out for the first time in a long time meant the rage was unbridled and had built up over time, Damien was out for blood. He slaughtered all the cultists in sight, straying away from Derkeethus to follow his bloodlust. He sliced and impaled, decapitated and mutilated every cultist that stood before him, turning the room into a bloodbath.
“DAMIEN!!” Derkeethus screamed, Damien had carved a path through the cultists to the other side of the room and Derkeethus was in trouble.
Damien leaped to Derkeethus’s aid. In a blind rage induced panic, he launched his sword with both hands towards the pair. Derk noticing the glint of gold and steel, managed to push the cultist off himself and dive to the ground, the cultist swinging around just in time to witness the weapon effortlessly glide, straight into their chest. The blade sizzled in reaction to contacting the blood of a demon.
Damien retrieved his sword from the cultist, who barely stood there, in shock. The cultist collapsed, their hood falling back, exposing the face of a woman. She sported tribal tattoos, and had tanned skin. This hinted that she was possibly a refugee from the kingdom’s war that he’d been part of all those years ago. He had no idea that the curse had spread as far as the kingdoms. Nevertheless, she was dead and was no trouble to them now.
The fighting quickly faded, the cultists retreating to their portal, which had opened in one of the prayer rooms within the temple. They’d won, the cultists were retreating, and his best friend was safe. That was until Derkeethus pointed out that they’d managed to steal the relic despite their best efforts.
Returning with bad news, the blame was set upon Derkeethus and mostly Damien. It was Damien’s job to protect Derkeethus and the relic, and he had disobeyed his orders to stay in control. Damien was suspended from the group and will no longer be allowed to go on any expeditions until he learns to control his urges.
>>Cellular Secret
Realms of Tanerila is a Choose Your Own Adventure story written 5 years ago by myself for my HNC Games Development course. I started well… then I wrote the rest in a couple of hours at 4am because the deadline was too long, and I forgot about it.
The moment that Damien entered the temple he was greeted with not only just weird looks but also with a forced smile and a sense of unease amidst the false respect. It’s obvious that not everyone wanted him here; Naya however, was glancing back at him with her soft smile frequently to check if he was still following. Amidst the sense of unease, he was kept from completely buckling under the pressure in the room by Naya’s looks of reassurance. It was odd, though, after years of being alone, he wasn’t entirely sure what he did to deserve her kindness. A real unfamiliar situation.
Damien was led to the hall, where the Cultist Leader sat hunched on the throne in front of the open fireplace, awaiting Damien. His robes drenching his frail body completely, he emitted a sense of power despite his deathly appearance. He did not rise from his chair to greet Damien, instead holding out his hand to him as if to let him see something.
A raspy low voice emitted from his dark hood, “Your arm…” He signalled his hand again for Damien to show him his arm. Damien awkwardly obliged and lay his arm on the Cultist Leader’s hand. He thoroughly examined his arm then laid back in his throne watching the fire. “Yes… I guess you’ll do…”
“You are Damien Graeme, correct?” The voice from the hood came louder, sounding interested, as if just recognizing who Damien was. “I suppose if I wish you to stay, I will have to give some compelling evidence that will enable you to fight for our cause… to reunite the demons like yourself within society…”
Filled with intrigue, Damien turns his attention towards the leader as the leader continues to speak, noticing his fascination with what he is saying.
“Your parents were murdered by the Golden Knights.” He stopped, looking at Damien.
The Golden Knights, the anti-demon faction, that went out of their way to battle against the cultists and had the illegitimate policy of slaughtering any afflicted from their faction and not letting any join, let alone live.
“Your parents were just as afflicted by the curse as you were, Damien…” He continued, “They spotted them while they were on a hunting party looking for rabid demons that patrol the forest. They found your parents walking back towards the village with a cart full to the brim with goods for the whole village, they’d just been to the mainland. Acting upon both fear and cruel disposition, they attacked your parents and stole the supplies for themselves, leaving your village poor and hungry, and leaving you an orphan. And not only that, but the Captain himself was the very man who commanded the attack…”
This was enough to convince Damien to join, if not for avenging his parents’ death but for equality between the cursed and humanity. He began his training with Naya, and grew quite affectionate towards her and discovered she was also one of the cursed herself. The training uniform was a tad more revealing than that of a cultist robe, and revealed where a shard had it her, just missing her heart. That was where the demonic skin tone was emanating from, just like Damien’s arm, but in case you wanted something more obvious, she still had a considerable sized shard sticking out from her chest. Demonic masses of red and black tinted flesh attempting to grow up and over it, making it just as much a part of her body as the rest of her. Damien’s shard was either too small to see, fallen out, or had ingrained itself within him, so the sight of Naya’s shard was somewhat unworldly in comparison.
His training involved various accounts of withstanding torture to test his cursed limits and succumbing to his rage to test his strength. The use of his arm wore away at the humanity within him that he held dear, but this was revenge and was only a minor consequence in the face of justice.
Realms of Tanerila is a Choose Your Own Adventure story written 5 years ago by myself for my HNC Games Development course. I started well… then I wrote the rest in a couple of hours at 4am because the deadline was too long, and I forgot about it.
The moment that Damien entered the embassy he was greeted with not only just weird looks but also with a forced smile and a sense of unease amidst the false respect. It’s obvious that not everyone wanted him here; Derkeethus however, was happy enough with him and treated him more like a friend than anything else. This immediate friendship was strange, people always take time to get to know others, but Derkeethus was just an unending well of kindness. A real odd fellow.
Damien was led to the grand hall, where the Captain of the Golden Knights was sitting at their conference table and eagerly awaiting Damien. He arose from his chair to greet him, creating big hulking clunks in the ground as his armour weighed him down to the floors of the embassy, like boulders on each foot. Just as eagerly as he was weighting, he almost grabbed Damien’s normal arm out of his socket with the vigorous handshake that was forced upon him.
What was explained was that Damien could be a part of the Golden Knights if he wished, they were going after the cultists that planned to take over the realm with the power of The Creator. By enslaving the fallen god in his immortal decaying state, and siphoning his power like a magic well. He also explained to Damien of how some of these cultists are the original priests who took down the Creator all those years ago, but that’s not the full story.
In his gruff, commanding tone, he explained what happened upon that day. “In the beginning, the Creator shaped and moulded the earth. Nurtured everything and everyone from a distance. Eras passed, and the Creator grew lonely, watching his creations from afar, making the most of their short life span as they experienced love and life to their fullest. One year, he decided he would go down there, he would walk among them and being their creator, they would respect him and love him for who he was.”
“He came to earth, and walked in a random direction, making a difference in people’s lives as he walked. He cleared passageways which had been blocked by landslides with a swift kick, he mended infected and broken bones with the touch of his hands. Plants that were withered and out-of-season sprang back to life and bear their fruit during the times of famine. But there were those that sought only his power, the original jealous priests.”
“They convinced him to meet them at their temple, high in the mountains of Ethereum, where they wished to offer him their blessings. The Creator was met with their blessings but also the prospect of sharing his magic, they wished to be able to use the same magic as he and be trained in how to use it. Of course, The Creator, seeing no fault in his own beloved creations, shared his power with all the priests which had asked of him his power.”
“Immediately the priests turned on him, incapacitating him with magic then delivering the final blow with a sword to the back of his neck. The Creator died instantly, shattering into a billion pieces across the realm, raining down onto the civilians below and causing the curse. The priests were divided, some ashamed of what they’d done, went into hiding and have not been seen to this day, the others went crazy with the power of their magic and were unsatisfied with how little they’d gained and forged a plan to revive the Creator and enthral him, so they could use him for infinite power.”
Damien, enlightened by the true side of the story, agreed to join the faction in aid of stopping the cultists reviving the dead Creator and started his training alongside Derkeethus at becoming a Golden Knight.
Realms of Tanerila is a Choose Your Own Adventure story written 5 years ago by myself for my HNC Games Development course. I started well… then I wrote the rest in a couple of hours at 4am because the deadline was too long, and I forgot about it.
Picking up the sword and shield and rushing into the fire and dust of the extremely one-sided battle that was happening before him, Damien searched inside himself for his courage. All the guards that were present were fighting, attacking the demon’s ankles, whilst the demon picked them up one by one and consumed them with little resistance. Not even caring to decant the soldiers from their “tin” suits.
Seeking the advantage of gaining the high ground, as the area below the Demon’s feet was essentially the death zone, Damien sneaked behind the demon from up on the rafters of the fort wall. He prepared for an attack. During his time in the war he had always been the lead tactician, this meant that the obvious advantage he had was of course obvious. Although, despite his many years in battle, nothing like this had ever happened. Giant demons being summoned from nowhere, it wasn’t right, nor was his arm, but the summoning was a worse issue altogether. He prepared himself, a deep breath to calm his nerves, finding footholds in the cobbled walkway to steady him.
With a quick burst, he lunged at the demon from above, swinging the sword down into the demon’s shoulder. The sheer force of the strength of his cursed arm caused the demon to fall to its knees. The guards, noticing Damien’s attack, regained a new confidence and started striking at the demon’s face and chest now that it was close to the ground.
Standing upon the Demon’s shoulder blades, Damien dragged the sword through the Demon’s shoulders towards the base of its head, rendering the demon paralysed. Collapsing to the ground, it was not long before it was unconscious, lifeless. Despite this, most of the guards still poked and prodded at its body, afraid that it would rise again. Jumping from the demon’s back to the ground, the dust parting at his feet amidst the spilled blood of both human and demon, mixing to make a dark and tainted red. He wiped himself and the sword clean of the demon’s black blood and stood at attention when the guards investigated him in awe. As a swell of congratulatory celebrations from the guards began to brew, it was quickly quelled by the guard captain. Thought to be dead, he appeared out of nowhere and, tackling and pinning Damien to the ground, holding a dagger to his throat.
“Don’t congratulate this demon!” He demanded, spit flying from his mouth on to the dry dirt courtyard below. “This demon is part of the cultists that summoned the beast here!”
The crowd grew silent, and another weapon unsheathed, the glint of a sword shone beside the guard captain’s neck. A knight, armour-clad in golden raiment was behind the captain holding the sword to his neck. “I don’t think the reward of killing the demon is enough to pay him for the massive favour he has done by saving your troops. Don’t you think you should be a bit more grateful and show him some mercy?” The voice from the knight echoed inside his golden suit.
The captain got up off Damien and scurried towards his troops, insisting that they go back to their barracks and take the wounded with them. The Golden Knight chuckles, “That was easier than I thought.” The Golden Knight’s appearance changed from a heroic face-less metal suit to a young, fat man wearing monk’s robes. He outstretched his hand towards Damien in an effort to pull him up, “I’m Derkeethus.” He said with an awkward smile. “You know, the Golden Knights could use someone who could actually fight like you. I, however, am just a monk training to be head priest of the Magestry. I offered to help them out, but I think you’d be a lot better.”
A little confused over the situation before him with the whole transformation and the offer of joining an elite ‘anti-demon’ faction seemed a pit peculiar as it was notorious for its strict policy of not even accepting people afflicted with the curse.
Derkeethus looked at Damien’s arm, “You know you should not worry about that, Golden Knight Captain insisted that I get you specifically as he values your experience throughout the war of the kingdoms.”
Damien, feeling relieved, relished in the fact someone had actually mentioned his time in the war. It had seemed like an age. After he came back from the war, no one had mentioned it to him since. Most just assumed that because he was afflicted with the curse, his choice to join the army was only part of that demon bloodlust that consumed so many that let themselves go to temptation.
Joining Derkeethus on his journey back to the embassy, in which the Golden Knights based their faction, seemed like the appropriate and right thing to do. It’s where they were conducting all their support and sending aid to nearby settlements, and that’s what Damien wanted to be part of the most.
Realms of Tanerila is a Choose Your Own Adventure story written 5 years ago by myself for my HNC Games Development course. I started well… then I wrote the rest in a couple of hours at 4am because the deadline was too long, and I forgot about it.
jinxlgamez
Doubtful Player 