The Story of Peldurol

Yeah yeah. I said I was gonna take a break from the boards, well this is how I’m taking a break. I’m writing. It’s relaxing and I’m not about to post anywhere else…
So here goes.

<center><b>Peldurol’s Tale</b></center>

<table align=“center” cellspacing=“750”>Peldurol was your everyday Satyr. He frolicked in the forests, nothing seemed amiss to him. Every day passing by the same as the last. The birds always chirped;however, things were slowly changing. He could feel it…

Butterflies of a golden hue fluttered past at regular intervals as Peldurol played a light tune on his pipes. At the sound of his beautiful melody, a light brown doe approached him, slightly cautious. He lightly greeted the creature, and it sniffed his hand at his approach. He continued his aria, to the delight of many of the animals within earshot.
He stood up after a few hours, which seemed like mere moments in his euphoric trance. He took to a slow walk, there’s no real rush for him to get anywhere. He saw a huge spark fly across the sky, and the small pond near him started throwing it’s water erratically over its usual peaceful banks. He ran from the the direction the streak was going in. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to be near it.
Then, there came an earth-shattering explosion on the other edge of the forest, where the streak had landed. It ripped and tore the earth asunder, and devastated the landscape around him. As if that were not enough, a shockwave began moving it’s way through the forest. It was like a pond’s ripples, there wasn’t just one shockwave. There were hundreds.
He threw his hands up in front of him to try to stop some of the force from completely tearing him apart. It worked. It worked too well. The first, most powerful blast hit him with an unimaginable force. His forearms strained and snapped like twigs. Sinew, pieces of bone, and blood flew into his face. Peldurol’s arms were twisted in and around. The shockwaves had bounced and twisted, creating up and downdrafts of air. One of those downdrafts took his lifeless arms and threw them at his body. His own bones helped to rip a hole in his side, near the stomach clear through his back on his left side. Blood shot out from behind him in a macabre spray of red. The next few shockwaves, less powerful but still painful, battered his face and horns, tearing both of them to shreds.
The destroyed Satyr crumpled to the ground in a bloody hulk, shockwaves ripping and tearing at his skin. Throwing debris into what was left of his eyes, and finishing him off.
His pipes had been lost along the trail. They too darted in his direction. One of the wooden parts of the pipe embedded itself in his chest. The rest harmlessly ripped holes in creature’s legs.
Peldurol screamed in agony as his life quickly drained from him. Then, all was silence. There was no forest. No shockwaves. No debris. Nothing. Just Peldurol, pain, and a figure walking up to the near-lifeless hulk that used to be a proud, beautiful creature.
The man looked at the pitiful pile, smirked, and kicked it.
Peldurol cursed at the man, and tried moving his legs. That just caused him even more unneeded pain, and he nearly passed out.
“You poor bastard. Look at you. You can’t even get up to stop me from torturing you,” the man said, still smirking.
Peldurol couldn’t move his mouth, his jaw and mouth had been all but destroyed by the torrent of pain and destruction.
“Oh, what’s that? You’re speechless, aren’t you? I guess I should be flattered that you are,” at that, the man laughed.
‘Damn you. If I could move, I would kill you where you stand,’ thought Peldurol.
“Would you, now? Let’s just see if you could,” the smirking man snapped his fingers.
Peldurol’s pain vanished. His body became whole. His horns regrew, as well as his arms. His jaw reshaped, and his kidney returned to his side.
“H-how did you do that,” asked Peldurol
The man’s smirk turned into a smile that went ear to ear. “I can do a lot of things. I don’t believe I have any reason to help you any further, though.”
“Help me further?”
“Yes. Look at your arms.”
Peldurol hadn’t noticed it, but his arms had quickly been decaying as he stood. They disappeared exactly where they had been broken.
“Please, bring them back. I’ll do anything! Just let me live!”
“Anything?” His eyes went red with glee.
“Yes, anything,” Peldurol said, just before his jaw decayed and disappeared.
“It has been done.”
Peldurol fell. Where he would land he did not know, but he wished for many things. Wings, so he could fly away. A jaw, mouth, and teeth, so he could once again speak. Arms strong enough to grab onto something he may come across on his fall.
All this and more he was granted.
Wings sprouted out of his back, and he attempted to fly. They were useless. Just tattered remnants of wings
His jaw, mouth, and teeth returned. They were grotesque and horrid.
His arms returned, but something was amiss. They weren’t very solid, yet they felt as though they could lift the world itself.
He hit the ground and blacked out.</table>
Yes, it will be continued. Probably tomorrow.

Ouch. o_O; Well written… Now if I could just get the images out of my head…


Indeed very wellwritten, the descriptions sends a chill down my back.

um… sounds painful, its really cool, the description of what happened was so good I think I’ll fast for a few days :wink:

I liked it write more.

[21:00] <Mabatsekker> That text is rather…
[21:01] <Mabatsekker> Cruel
[21:01] <Steve|Writing> my writing?
[21:01] <Steve|Writing> yeah, i know :stuck_out_tongue:
[21:01] <Mabatsekker> Well, descriptive
[21:01] <Steve|Writing> exactly
[21:01] <Mabatsekker> It’s the type that made me rather depressed after writing chapter 13 :confused:

YEah, well, I get kinda depressed writing some times when you have to write something graphic to get the message across. You need to think if it fits anything else aswell, or you might have a plothole in your hands… (Say, it’d be something VERY weird if Lil Tiria took a dagger and went black mage on the next group of elderly people…) and I’m STILL having problems with chap 14.

Other than my own insane rambling… Nice going, Steve. Just don’t force the plot on violence alone.

<center><b>Peldurol’s Tale

<table align=“center” cellspacing=“750”>
Peldurol dreamt of many things after he blacked out. Huge behemoths of scales and horn, destroyed by a shockwave much like the one he was hit by. The rest perished from lack of food and sun. Dust covered the sky for a long time.
Everything went black again, and sound flooded his ears. Sounds of wind and snow.
His vision returned, and he saw a planet plagued by glaciers and snow. Snowdrift upon snowdrift piled up, almost creating mountains of white fury. The wind battered at the surviving animals’ hides.
Towering powerhouses of ivory and fur were brought down by pointed sticks, thrown by a tribe of some new species of ape. They were taller than apes, and stood upright. They had rippling muscles, much like he remembers himself having. Something was wrong with them, though. Ah, he knew what it was. Their legs were bent the wrong way. It was weird to see them take down such a huge pile of fur, tusks, and teeth with just a few sticks and some rope. He knew this species was destined to be something bigger than even they could know.
‘But then,’ he thought, ‘this is only a dream. No matter how realistic it seems, it is just… a dream. I’ll wake up soon, and it will all be gone.’
But he didn’t wake up soon. He kept dreaming. He watched wars waged between groups of the things he saw. They would charge each other, and slews of people would die. The fighting would end. They would destroy the other’s buildings, lives, everything. Then they would go back to normal, just like nothing happened.
It sickened him and he grew to hate the people he saw. He memorized their mannerisms. He hated every single one of them that fought. All of them fought. None of them except a few were pacifists. The rest followed the lead of their leader. Unthinking, unfeeling. Hating their enemies for one reason. They were their enemies. They knew nothing about them; nor what they fought for. They just hated.
‘I must stop them,’ Peldurol thought
‘What would you give to stop them?’ a voice in his head asked
‘Anything. Anything at all to stop the slaughtering.’
‘What about… your soul.’
‘M…my soul? Why my soul?’
‘I have my reasons. Just give me your soul, and you shall have all the power you need to stop them dead in their tracks.’
The voice had put emphasis on the word dead, as though he meant it as something different than the way he used it. Peldurol gave it much thought. So much thought that nearly a century had passed before he answered.
‘Fine… take it. I have no use of it in this state.’
The voice had no emotion when it spoke next.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Welcome to hell.’</table>

This one is a bit shorter, but the next one will make up for it.

Is he a demon now??

Well… let’s just wait until chapter 3. Which I’m working on right now ;p

Well, as Maba said, just don’t build up the plot on nothing but violence, because if you do it’ll just be a gorefest that no sane person would like to read.

Insane people maybe, and God knows we have enough of them. ^_-

Seriously though, a good story, and I’m intrigued. Roll on Chapter 3

<center><b>Peldurol’s Tale</b>
Part 3

<table align=“center” cellspacing=“750”>‘Welcome to hell.’
Those words echoed in his head. The world returned to his sight, but it was different. It was more grotesque and… red. His new, yet old, wings were an odd burden he hand never had before. They were ripped to shreds from the fall, they weren’t enough to stop him from landing. His horns were still shattered.
He took the time to look at his surroundings. There were monoliths everywhere around him. It was extremely hot, but he didn’t seem to notice. His fur and hair were sticky with sweat and humidity. Fires sprung up randomly around him, the walls were made of what looked like skin and organs. It was like hell was… living.
Peldurol couldn’t fathom what he did in life to warrant such a final punishment. Then he remembered what happened afterward. His hatred and selling of his soul for that hatred is what put him over the edge and into hell.
He decided against staying in the same spot, and started walking. He meandered through the halls and corridors of hell. He saw many gruesome tortures, and wondered what his would be. He tried not to think about all the horrible things they could do to him. As he passed an antechamber, by the looks of it, he was pushed into the room by a group of men in dark robes.
“What are y- Hey sto- Would you guys let me the hell go!?”
They said nothing, just kept pushing him in the direction they were going. It ended up leading through stairwells made of bone, and into a chamber with lava surrounding it. It wasn’t only around the floor. The walls were made of lava, the ceiling was made of lava. All of it flowing, bubbling, pulsing like a heartbeat. Peldurol could not see, or imagine, what force was holding the lava in its place. There was a throne in the center of the room, and at it sat the smirking man. Only this time he could see the man’s face perfectly. It was scarred and wrinkled from time. He had great wings on his back, but they looked weak, and more for show than use. His skin was a deep, jet black color. His eyes. Those invitingly evil eyes were red. Not just dim red, but crimson red. They seemed to suck him into them.
“Welcome to my throne, Peldurol,” that all-to-familiar familiar voice said.
“Who the hell are you,” Peldurol asked the man.
“I thought you would have realised it by now. I guess you are as dumb as your animal half,” with that, the man stood and smiled even more. He began walking through the room.
Peldurol’s eyes narrowed at his approach, “Well. Are you going to tell me?”
He stopped walking, “I’ll leave that for you to figure out. Right now we have the business of your… reward to attend to. For giving your soul to me, I must give you the power to stop the humans where they stand. Before they wipe each other off the face of the planet.”
Peldurol had forgotten about why he had given his soul away. Actually, he had forgotten most of the things that had happened before he awoke in hell. It hit him as a wave of memories. All the pain and suffering from the shockwaves, and all the horrible acts he had seen committed by the people.
He fell over as pain coursed through his head. The red-eyed man walked towards Peldurol, laughing heartily.
“Enjoying your new power?”
“God damn you. Once I stand up you will be sorry you did this.”
“Did what? All I did was give you what you wanted.”
“I didn’t want more pain… I wanted them to stop!”
“I gave you the power to stop them. With it comes pain. Now if you don’t want your ass splattered from here to fucking purgatory, you’re going to go up on earth and do what you wanted to do. You got that?”
“Yes.” After he said that, the man calmed back down.
Peldurol didn’t plan on coming back down to hell after he stopped the humans from unleashing, well, hell on each other. He planned on finding a good hiding place and staying away from any entrances to hell he could find. Until then all he had to do was stop humans from warring. Not too hard, right?
He set off for an exit of hell, the man following right behind him. They passed many rooms of torture. All were equally gruesome, yet simplistic. There was the starving man with food dangling just out of his reach. The vain woman. No matter what she did to look beautiful, her truly hideous nature showed through in her mirror. Among many other tortures.
After what seemed like hours, they reached another stairwell. This one seemed a bit different. It was a lot steeper than the rest of the stairways, and halfway up it turned into a cave. Peldurol took the hint and walked towards the archway, guarded on both sides by behemoth sized golems made of lava. They moved to block his path.
“You two, stop. I’m allowing him to leave to do his bidding with the humans.”
“What, you didn’t know what they were called? You really are as dumb as you look.”
Peldurol kept that insult in the back of his head. Fueling his anger even more. He clenched his fists as hard as he could, and ended up snapping one of his fingers.
“What the hell?!”
“…You really are a simple creature. I gave you the power you wished for. Just think of your finger as being healed, and it will be so.”
Peldurol did so, and where his arms had been broken off before, his arms disappeared, and then reappeared in perfect shape. They were malleable when he wanted them to be, but extremely tough at any other time. He liked them.
“Have fun,” the man said, smirking as always.
Peldurol bid him farewell and began the climb up to the world of man.</table>

Weee, this is gettin fuuuuuuun ^________^
Edit: Once school starts, I’ll write them down first in class. Then I’ll type them up. Should be able to shrine and write this at the same time :slight_smile:

Kick. Ass.

This…is amazing. Bravo, really. Stayrs and hell and pain and violence…my kind of story. I’ll be sure to keep uo with this one.

I love you, Steve of the horror tales. Make love to me like I have never been loved before.


Originally posted by Steve

Just remember, I’m still in the body of a three-year-old.

:frowning: :frowning: :frowning: :frowning:

A fantasic story there Steve. Loving it, in a freakish Silent-Hill/Blood Omen kinda way. You rule. Did i say that already?

Originally posted by Valkyrie Esker
Just remember, I’m still in the body of a three-year-old.

I can wait til you turn back :stuck_out_tongue:

Woo, I was wondering if the demon you asked for was gonna be apart of a story or somethin’ =D Coolness!

Arg, ya found me out!
Actually. I didn’t really plan on it, but it seemed like a good idea to do. I mean, I did come up with what it looked like in the first place. Your beautiful drawing skills put it into a definite form :slight_smile: