He had been here many times before. Every night he dreaded going to sleep for he knew the dark places his mind would take him. Fire rained from the heavens all around him. No sun could be seen and yet the sky was scorched crimson and black. Nothing grew in the soil but still the desolate landscape was flush with living horrors. This was a place of demonic nightmares.
Farnham had become painfully familiar with the dream but it never became less frightening with experience. Demonic figures surrounded him at a rock’s throw away so he dared not move from where he stood. They stood silent, staring, their gaze piercing through his tattered grey clothing, through his flesh, as though they could see his very soul. A soul he knew had been withered down through three generations of torment, pain, anguish, and guilt. His shaking hand instinctively went to his waist where he once kept a wineskin but found nothing. The comforts of drink would not be found here.
“Hello again Farnham.” said a deep trembling voice from behind him where nothing stood just a moment ago. Fear overtook him as it did most of his life. His legs went limp bringing him down to his knees. He began to sob uncontrollably as he felt his bladder empty onto the sulfuric soil at his feet. The smell was almost enough to make him wretch.
Slowly he turned around knowing what awaited him. The demon had grey and black skin, was at least three times Farnham’s height, and moved almost spider-like. Its face was home to four fiery eyes located above what passed for a mouth in the underworld. Exposed flesh glowed red hot along its jaw and nose.
“A-A-Azmodan, p-please don’t hurt me,” begged Farnham on all fours. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked!”
“And yet the Black Soulstone still eludes my grasp!” roared Azmodan. The Lord of Sin smashed his fist on the dry crackled earth beside Farnham in rage.
Farnham stuttered excuses “The girl s-s-still has the stone, I swear it! B-but I can only d-do so much with what you’ve given me!”
This seemed to anger the demon more. Azmodan reached over to his right and in one hand he grasped a fatter looking demonic boar. It shrieked in fear but could not escape the tightening grip around its body. Once brought into plain view of Farnham Azmodan squeezed the pig with all his might. The crushing sound it made was sickening and black ooze sprayed onto Farnham. This time he could not keep anything down and vomited.
“You dare belittle the gifts I’ve bestowed upon you?! Perhaps I should send you back to where I found you… yes…”
“No anything but that!” cried Farnham, “Please, I’ve only ever been loyal! I’ve kept a close eye on the woman, as you commanded of me!”
Azmodan took a deep breath and seemed to relax his anger. The slits for his eyes narrowed as he gazed down at the pitiful excuse of a man.
“Loyal? Loyal you say? You know nothing of loyalty, worm. When Lazarus led the villagers into the cathedral tombs you fled and left your friends to die. When the king’s son returned you crawled into a bottle instead of helping him slay those who tormented those around you. When Tristram was under siege you could have fought but instead you hid and watched your townspeople fall, one by one.
Images flashed before Farnham as he wept for the souls of Tristram: Wirt, Griswold, Gillian, Ogden, and Pipen. They had all died at the hands of demonic minions.
Azmodan was enjoying Farnham’s torment, relishing the moment, like a cat with its prey. “Even as you lay dying among the rubble of your beloved Tristram you turned traitor yet again by calling out my name. Do not forget who saved your pathetic life, mortal.”
With a wave of Azmodan’s arm Farnham suddenly found himself floating. He could feel his body getting hotter, so hot he felt as though he would burst into flames. He flailed hoping to be freed from the invisible grasp, to run away and wake from the terrible nightmare, but he hung there helpless as ever.
“You will return to your duty human, and you had better not think of betraying me or the torment I give you in the afterlife will be sung in songs of legend. Never forget…”
Farnham’s tattered shirt suddenly burst into flames and was gone as fast as the fire appeared. The heat was unbearable as the insignia of the Lord of Sin shone white hot on his chest. Azmodan leaned in close, breathing on his helpless subject.
“You are MINE!!!”
He awoke, startled. After calming down for a moment he took in his surroundings to discover he was safe once again. From his cage he could see Leah working tirelessly to translate documents, the Black Soulstone just feet away in front of her among tomes, scrolls, and candles.
Leah slammed her quill onto the desk and stood up in frustration. After a deep breath she walked over to the cage and opened it up. She reached in and picked up Farnham in one hand. She smiled at him and patted his head with one finger.
“I envy you so much Binkles. You never have to worry yourself with the troubles of men and demons. Let me change your water for you”, she said as she put him back into his cage and leaving.
‘So sweet and innocent’ thought Farnham. He hated the name Binkles, but realized it was probably appropriate for a pet frog. The truth was that being a frog wasn’t so bad. Leah always treated him well, his cage was always clean, and he felt safe… when he was awake at least.
Azmodan was half right though. So many times he wanted to tell her about what was coming. In fact, this time he was resolved to do so. Yes, it was time she be warned. Farnham had few moments of bravery in his life so he wasn’t going to spoil this one. Leah returned with a fresh bowl of water humming a tune he didn’t recognize. When she opened the cage he took a deep breath, mustered all his courage, and got out the only thing he could.
“Ribbit!”
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- Voitagi
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Last active Tue, Nov, 1 2011 14:06:59
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Farnham had become painfully familiar with the dream but it never became less frightening with experience. Demonic figures surrounded him at a rock’s throw away so he dared not move from where he stood. They stood silent, staring, their gaze piercing through his tattered grey clothing, through his flesh, as though they could see his very soul. A soul he knew had been withered down through three generations of torment, pain, anguish, and guilt. His shaking hand instinctively went to his waist where he once kept a wineskin but found nothing. The comforts of drink would not be found here.
“Hello again Farnham.” said a deep trembling voice from behind him where nothing stood just a moment ago. Fear overtook him as it did most of his life. His legs went limp bringing him down to his knees. He began to sob uncontrollably as he felt his bladder empty onto the sulfuric soil at his feet. The smell was almost enough to make him wretch.
Slowly he turned around knowing what awaited him. The demon had grey and black skin, was at least three times Farnham’s height, and moved almost spider-like. Its face was home to four fiery eyes located above what passed for a mouth in the underworld. Exposed flesh glowed red hot along its jaw and nose.
“A-A-Azmodan, p-please don’t hurt me,” begged Farnham on all fours. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked!”
“And yet the Black Soulstone still eludes my grasp!” roared Azmodan. The Lord of Sin smashed his fist on the dry crackled earth beside Farnham in rage.
Farnham stuttered excuses “The girl s-s-still has the stone, I swear it! B-but I can only d-do so much with what you’ve given me!”
This seemed to anger the demon more. Azmodan reached over to his right and in one hand he grasped a fatter looking demonic boar. It shrieked in fear but could not escape the tightening grip around its body. Once brought into plain view of Farnham Azmodan squeezed the pig with all his might. The crushing sound it made was sickening and black ooze sprayed onto Farnham. This time he could not keep anything down and vomited.
“You dare belittle the gifts I’ve bestowed upon you?! Perhaps I should send you back to where I found you… yes…”
“No anything but that!” cried Farnham, “Please, I’ve only ever been loyal! I’ve kept a close eye on the woman, as you commanded of me!”
Azmodan took a deep breath and seemed to relax his anger. The slits for his eyes narrowed as he gazed down at the pitiful excuse of a man.
“Loyal? Loyal you say? You know nothing of loyalty, worm. When Lazarus led the villagers into the cathedral tombs you fled and left your friends to die. When the king’s son returned you crawled into a bottle instead of helping him slay those who tormented those around you. When Tristram was under siege you could have fought but instead you hid and watched your townspeople fall, one by one.
Images flashed before Farnham as he wept for the souls of Tristram: Wirt, Griswold, Gillian, Ogden, and Pipen. They had all died at the hands of demonic minions.
Azmodan was enjoying Farnham’s torment, relishing the moment, like a cat with its prey. “Even as you lay dying among the rubble of your beloved Tristram you turned traitor yet again by calling out my name. Do not forget who saved your pathetic life, mortal.”
With a wave of Azmodan’s arm Farnham suddenly found himself floating. He could feel his body getting hotter, so hot he felt as though he would burst into flames. He flailed hoping to be freed from the invisible grasp, to run away and wake from the terrible nightmare, but he hung there helpless as ever.
“You will return to your duty human, and you had better not think of betraying me or the torment I give you in the afterlife will be sung in songs of legend. Never forget…”
Farnham’s tattered shirt suddenly burst into flames and was gone as fast as the fire appeared. The heat was unbearable as the insignia of the Lord of Sin shone white hot on his chest. Azmodan leaned in close, breathing on his helpless subject.
“You are MINE!!!”
He awoke, startled. After calming down for a moment he took in his surroundings to discover he was safe once again. From his cage he could see Leah working tirelessly to translate documents, the Black Soulstone just feet away in front of her among tomes, scrolls, and candles.
Leah slammed her quill onto the desk and stood up in frustration. After a deep breath she walked over to the cage and opened it up. She reached in and picked up Farnham in one hand. She smiled at him and patted his head with one finger.
“I envy you so much Binkles. You never have to worry yourself with the troubles of men and demons. Let me change your water for you”, she said as she put him back into his cage and leaving.
‘So sweet and innocent’ thought Farnham. He hated the name Binkles, but realized it was probably appropriate for a pet frog. The truth was that being a frog wasn’t so bad. Leah always treated him well, his cage was always clean, and he felt safe… when he was awake at least.
Azmodan was half right though. So many times he wanted to tell her about what was coming. In fact, this time he was resolved to do so. Yes, it was time she be warned. Farnham had few moments of bravery in his life so he wasn’t going to spoil this one. Leah returned with a fresh bowl of water humming a tune he didn’t recognize. When she opened the cage he took a deep breath, mustered all his courage, and got out the only thing he could.
“Ribbit!”