brymstcne-a

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Hello! This blog is now archived, and the character in this blog has been moved to expvrgction. Any and all replies here will be done there.

#And then there were none (OOC)

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...That aggravating little Welshman is still not dead. What is going on here?

#Welcome to Immora (IC) #Hell's Fried Pinkies (Crack) #Burning memories (Musings) #Remember; The Blind Council is always watching. (Dashboard commentary) #Ruler of Hell (Davoth) #(after that incident with one of his armor's horns broken? why wouldn't he be a lowkey saltmine at this point) #(hsdksjdlk)

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Davoth, in his mech armor, had been standing in the war room within his own living chambers for a while now, and alone. A reddish, holographic projector on the tempered, clear glass table. Looked to it that the foundations that allowed this table to stand for so long were made ornate-- crimson with a little hint of gold and white, reminiscent of when he had not allowed his home realm to spoil into what it has become now.

Flashing forth was an Earth-like realm, except it became ruined, in a fashion or another. And further magnified was one notable chunk of what could be left of it.

‘NEVADA’, the pocket realm’s name was, as displayed. He remembered this being the name of place, somewhere in the Slayer’s home country.

And yet, this wasn’t the Earth Davoth knew-- Or rather, its remains. He didn’t remember having made this.

But he could sense the general insanity that was going on in there. Perhaps this could be a good catalyst for an invasion attempt. No soul in this particular iteration of Nevada would ever be able to stand up against Hell.

If that damned Slayer isn’t planning to visit that realm anytime soon, that is.

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Davoth is now available for interaction with characters from the Madness Combat universe!

#Welcome to Immora (IC) #Burning memories (Musings) #Lament (Drabbles) #Ruler of Hell (Davoth) #Infected Reality (Madness Combat crossover)

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agcnt1ne​:

      Wesley’s movements were much faster than last time.

      His whole body moved in what looked like the blink of an eye, dashing to the side and balancing on his leg (must’ve been his prosthetic, judging the unceremonious wobble from him). His head lifted, and he began to quickly make his way around Davoth, yet he didn’t attack at all. He only waited for a good moment, like a predator testing its prey, watching, waiting, planning the kill.

      God, this was amazing.

      Knowing that he’d be able to finally get rid of him. Do SOMETHING when it comes to the future, hopefully, it’d make everything better. Hopefully. Because by god… He wanted his hands around Davoth’s neck. He wanted to wring it like a fucking towel with his hands and watch the life fade from his eyes. He wanted him to SUFFER...

      All of the Welshman’s wrath had been building up for ages, it seemed. It’s what fueled him to keep going, to persevere despite everything that’s happened to him, despite his torture and his wounds that never healed (or, that he never LET heal for that matter), everything that’s happened with the Nazis, his failed revolution, everything. And knowing that he had his chance… to finally make things right, to actually BRING DOWN the Dark Lord and know that his future descendants would be okay… that they’d be okay– that’s also what he fought for. It’s what he still remembered, despite all of his rage nearly blinding him.

      He skidded a little, grunting when one of those bursts of energy nearly struck him, though he couldn’t help but laugh. Oh, that made his adrenaline PUMP THROUGH HIS VEINS! He was FIRED UP. AND HE WAS READY! Ready to make sure Davoth knew what Hell REALLY felt like, because oh, BOY, he was bad. How bad? REAL bad. A twelve on the ten-point scale of badness! And his world view had CRACKED THE FUCK OPEN. He was ready, OH, HE WAS READY!

      “ Come on, COME ON! ” Wesley spoke up with a grin from under his helmet, “ Going to play hard to get ALL DAY, you BASTARD?! ” … His sanity dwindled.

A madman. This once-human was a complete and utter madman. Not even the Doom Slayer of his reality would be THIS unhinged.

“Crazy boy...” The Dark Lord retorted. “If you’re looking for a fight, then you damn well found it.”

Then again, Davoth was responsible for what Wesley had become, and yet it was too late to realize that as the two fought. Davoth needed a way to get a hit on Wesley, and fast.

“I will bathe in your blood before you even realize you’re dead!” Davoth said before he charged with his giant shield WITHOUT even a warning. He was planning to get a drop on Wesley via a shield bash, and boy, he WOULD. Even if there was a one-off chance that he would fail to do so.

Wesley would better remember that Davoth was still as fast as ever too.

#Welcome to Immora (IC) #You are not allowed to leave here; You are embedded. (RP) #Ruler of Hell (Davoth) #Old-blooded remnant (Richard Wesley) #There's two of them now. (Slayer Wesley AU) #(davoth still has time to taunt a madman huh) #(little does he know that he's giving wes MORE the incentive to kick his ass)

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agcnt1ne​:

            Rage. Anger. All he could see was red. Only red.

      His breaths quickened, his fingers grasping at one of his old guns– that old rifle, that SAME rifle from ages ago, and cocked it when he saw his sword and shield, and he slowly felt himself grin after just a moment…

      Oh, yes.

            OH, YES!

      The feeling of his blood pumping through his veins, the way his whole body tensed in anticipation, why was Wesley so afraid before?! He shouldn’t have been, when he knew the outcome of this battle all along! The Dark Lord made a mistake… One of the biggest mistakes he could’ve made, Wesley believed, was keeping him alive. Letting him roam the Umbral Plains, the Blood Swamps– all of Hell. And he knew… he knew what to do.

      “ Dishonor you? ” Croaked out the Slayer, as he felt himself grin more, to the point it hurt. He couldn’t help but laugh… Dishonor? Why, did Davoth REALLY have a code for these arenas? Did he TRULY?“ All I did was fight my way. Like you did… Too ashamed to keep that scuff mark on your armor? ”

      This was amazing. Hell, it was funny too. Did he really know now what he was? When Wesley’s been able to hone his skills, to let himself succumb to his wrath over and over again just to learn more and more? Letting himself be corrupted– hell, even letting those strange feelings of energies just mix and merge together, of Maykr and Hell– no, no, of Maykr and Jekkadi. Just letting all of his wrath FESTER. And oh, by god… it was strangely euphoric, knowing he’d finally be able to get his revenge this time…

      … Finally… Revenge for what he’s done to the others, to his descendants… To HIM.

      “ Come on, mate… Don’t want to wait with killing me, do you? I know you want to. I’ve been a thorn in your side ever since you first arrived… I’ll let you go first. ”

Davoth did not intend to waste anymore time, though he was still quite embittered when The Maykr-armored Slayer brought up their past scuffle.

Already he opened fire, energy shots and some timed grenades hurling Wesley’s way. He would make this as more painful and inconvenient as possible, like last time too.

And it would only intensify. Davoth would like to see what this little monster would be capable of. It would be such a shame if Wesley failed again.

But he intended to make that happen. He hated this man enough to want him gone-- And he remembered having his demonic subjects lure his descendant to his doom.

He wouldn’t soon make Wesley forget that. Davoth, however, would wait until the time was right to bring up the death of Malcolm. Having driven Richard insane now gave all sorts of incentives for Davoth to mess with his already broken mind more.

But for how long would this work before it would backfire on him?

#Welcome to Immora (IC) #Ruler of Hell (Davoth) #Old-blooded remnant (Richard Wesley) #There's two of them now. (Slayer Wesley AU) #ask to tag tw #violence tw #You are not allowed to leave here; You are embedded. (RP)

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Continued from here! @agcnt1ne

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...Even Davoth could feel some kind of dread washing over him. He was warned of what would happen if he kept pushing someone long enough for them to retaliate.

Guess it fell on deaf ears, after all. But despite all that, the Dark Lord stood his ground.

“You and your companions-- And even your bloodline, bring violence and war to thwart the Dark Realm. But conflict was born in Hell; It is inevitable.”

“...A fire that fuels creation, and gives purpose, where there is none.” The bane of Wesley’s existence finally came down, jumping right into the arena bounds.

“Stand and fight, bearer of the Maykr Key. Show me what you’ve learned. Do *not* dishonor me as you did before.“ Oh, he remembered HOW this man humiliated him last time...

“If only that cerulean runt was here to witness this fight...” This would take Wesley a while to figure it out. “But he doesn’t have to be upset if I do end up killing you right now. He’s too busy rebuilding his little world, after all...”

And thus, a sword and shield of gargantuan proportions came to life. Just like old times.

#Welcome to Immora (IC) #You are not allowed to leave here; You are embedded. (RP) #Ruler of Hell (Davoth) #Old-blooded remnant (Richard Wesley) #There's two of them now. (Slayer Wesley AU) #ask to tag tw

[brymstcne-a]

#Burning memories (Musings) #Ruler of Hell (Davoth)

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Doom Eternal|DLC 2|Darklord Mech by Phillip Bailey https://www.artstation.com/artwork/nYKwKK

#Burning memories (Musings) #Ruler of Hell (Davoth)

[brymstcne-a]

agcnt1ne​:

            Again, BJ was met with hesitation and silence.

      Wesley had stared off at the ceiling for a moment, saying nothing, his fingers going along his bandages absentmindedly while he tried to figure out what to say, yet he couldn’t. Couldn’t form his words, couldn’t breathe very well, couldn’t speak… God. God. Slowly, he shifted, and propped himself up with a groan of pain to grab at B.J’s shoulder– he nearly collapsed, but as his face unceremoniously nearly slammed into said shoulder, he tried to whisper into his ear,

      “ I’m listening to everything you’re saying, but if you really want me to explain– y-you’ll think I’m fucking insane, I know you will, but… ” Another long, deep sigh, as his eyes drifted away to search for answers. What could he say? B.J wouldn’t believe him, despite what they’ve dealt with together back in ‘46– or, at least, what he was SURE B.J saw back then. Shambling zombies that were on fire, a strange green energy that made them that way and destroyed perhaps a part of Wulfburg, the Monstrosity that Helga tried to revive, or… what was left of it. Not to mention what Strasse and the other members of the SS Paranormal Division had been up to. Mutants and… spirits, and he remembered a demon, too. Oh, god.

            He’d might as well say it.

      “ I saw Hell, Blazkowicz. ” He whispered out with a quivering lip, “ I saw Hell, and it’s terrifying. Brimstone and… bones and flesh, bodies everywhere, demons– fires and death. Smoke that blocked the skies and soot and ash that would choke your lungs in a second. I saw it all, Blazko. I fought through it. I fought the Devil, I stared him in the face and I paid for it. I was tortured. ”A light hiccup escaped him, and now he just rested his broken face into his shoulder, hiding away, “You wouldn’t believe me. I know you wouldn’t. But it hurts. It hurts… t-there was a man that looked like you, that… that helped me escape. ”

      He shifted again, just keeping himself there, staring at the floor. He was too scared to leave, but… Too scared to stay at that spot, all the same. He couldn’t… bring himself to explain how Davoth looked like him.

      “ … And, you know why I did it? Found myself in Hell because of those fucking jackboots and tried to fight? ”

      “ A-All to help future generations of ours that were doomed from the fucking beginning. I couldn’t even fucking stop him, you know that? Hahah… hahaha… I could’ve died there. I should’ve, but he didn’t let me, Blazkowicz. Now I have to suffer with the fact knowing that I could be the only fucking one on this ship that’s seen it… I’m so fucking stupid… ”

      “ You know how much that hurts? It’s eating me from the inside…” His voice cracked near the end of what he was saying, and he just grabbed onto his old friend, and let out a weak sob. “ … i know you’ll consider me insane, but at least don’t leave me alone… ”

Well, here it goes. William listened to Wesley's end of things. And attentively, that.

And the more he listened to it, the more grim his expression became. Wesley didn't seem like he was bluffing here. And as much as he hated to admit it, B.J had been haunted by a few occasional nightmares ever since he had to leave Wesley behind. They did not make much sense to him at first, but with what Wesley described, whatever night terrors he experienced could now be understood .

First was the face that looked like him, only more sinister, with eyes burning red and a multitude of tattoo-like markings on his torso, who he had some repeat dreams of. All of that part of his dreams were just that fiend staring at him, as to silently mock him for something he didn't know about.

And then there was Wesley, but he... B.J didn't know how to say it, but the Wesley he saw in repeats of a different dream was less than human. He had no idea what to describe him as back then. But now that Wes explained his end of the story, it could only be assumed that his friend was nothing short of a demon in dreams involving him.

Up until he heard that Wes got rescued, and that he could finally see him again.

"Oh God..." The soldier could only mutter in both horror and pity. "I'm sorry that happened. I was doubting what you said earlier, but I'll take your word for it..."

"Wanna know some disturbing shit I had in my sleep for a good few years now, Wes?" Blazkowicz continued. "I know what that sick, sick demon fuck looks like. Like me, but full of markings on his torso. Red eyes too. Had dreams about him for some years on end."

"And then there's you... But turned into one of his demonic subjects; One of his fucking goons, for the lack of a better word." Blazkowicz shook ever slightly. "I was worried that you'd turn into one of them. Whomever tortured you could have chosen to turn you into one."

What he didn't mention though was a dream regarding one of his descendants, far in the future. He was clad in green armor, and he was dealing with the dregs of Hell that were the source of Wesley's torment.

"...I'm so sorry, Wes." B.J muttered. "I was so damn busy giving those Nazis a taste of their own medicine that I have forgotten about you." One of his hands held Wes, gently enough to not hurt him-- He was injured, after all.

His other, free hand, however, balled into a fist. He wasn't sure how to describe it, but he could feel it; Rage. For whom? Those demons, of course.

"If he thinks he can toy around with us and our bloodlines-- No, the whole of humanity... Then he has another thing coming." Blazkowicz sounded angry there. "I said this before and I'll say it again: He's playing with fucking fire, and he is only waiting for someone, somewhere, to pour gasoline on his turf. He's going to see that humanity isn't goin' to take his bullshit."

"I need to know that bastard's name. I can't fight him, but perhaps one of my future generations can. I want to at least make a point that he just fucked with the wrong people, and that he'll pay for it, sooner or later."

Silence. For a moment. And then B.J looked at Wesley. "If I may ask-- How bad did those Helldwellers harm you?"

#Welcome to Immora (IC) #You are not allowed to leave here; You are embedded. (RP) #Uh oh-- Hijacked! (Muse switch event) #Burdened by war (William Joseph Blazkowicz) #Old-blooded remnant (Richard Wesley) #Age of the Harbinger (Wolfenstein crossover) #(uh oh angy blazko) #(also laptop usb slot died on me so i have to retype most of this reply on phone) #ask to tag tw #nazi tw #nazi mention tw #trauma tw #injury tw

[brymstcne-a]

“Wesley.” Blazkowicz said, in a stern tone. “Someone more fucked up than Jaeger must have done something to you. You gotta bear with me badgering ya ‘till I get an answer. It doesn’t matter if it sounds ridiculous to others-- I’ll hear it.”

The issue was, Wesley still was in no condition to tell him what he needed to. It might drive him nuts if he wasn’t given a choice to remain silent about it until the time would come, so... “...But if you would rather wait until you have the time to, I understand.”

“Speaking of liberation...” B.J began. “We’re still pretty far from it, but victory is going to be close-- I broke into Venus and stole codes from the ODIN system. All that’s left is to hijack it, and I’ve heard that Engel will be on a talk show later this weekend, at night.”

“She’s going to pay for the fuck ton of atrocities she made against a lot of people. Those I’ve lost, especially.” His voice was bitter, that was true. “Wanna know what’s just as bad? She forced her ideologies on her daughter. Sigrun’s in good hands though-- But still uppity because of how she was raised, and what some of us think of her at the moment.”

“It’s shitty what a kid who didn’t want to go along with her nation’s fucked up narrative has to go through. I was there when Engel murdered Caroline.” He looked the other way. “It’s refreshing to see someone stand up for themselves after being subjected to harmful backgrounds for most of their life. And what’s more, it came from somewhere you’d never expect.”

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“I saw the results. London got redecorated, and not in the best way.” B.J sighed. “We did a number on it though– No point of saving it once the Nazi fuckwits got a hold of it. Sorry in advance for the mess you’ll hear about.”

“Damn, almost every single OSA agent got murked? My condolences for yer loss.” The soldier shook his head. “But I found the file of someone I haven’t heard of his status yet…” He looked at a dossier file he had in hand.

“Says here his name is Caleb Wyckoff, Shadow Operative. He’s assumed to be MIA though.” He spoke of the missing operative. “I don’t know much about him except for what’s stated here. And I can’t really ask you about him now, whatnot with how you are.”

He closed the dossier file and took a closer look on Wesley. He was SO injured– Some of those cuts, bruises and lashes which were out of the ordinary. Could the Nazis have perfected their ways to torture people?

But then again, something was off, and as much as Blazkowicz had no idea on what Wes had gone through beyond little of what he told him, he felt it as much.

“There… Has to be more to the shit that happened to you beyond those looks in the eye.” He had to be honest– Something didn’t quite sit right with him, but he didn’t exactly know what. He needed Wesley to explain, even for a little bit.

      “ Not just London, Blazko. I was in Wales. It’s a shithole compared to London. Made the place into a bloody ghetto– it’s where I had my resistance. No one could find my distress calls… all went to shit when we tried to hole ourselves up in the Llandaff Cathedral, and… oh, god… ”

      He paused at the name, though. Caleb Wyckoff– he knew him. Knew him real well, in fact, yet he couldn’t bring himself to focus. All he focused on was the question B.J asked him, and Wesley was quick to look away again, visibly distressed.

      “… I-I really don’t know if I can talk about it. ” Wesley repeated again, earnestly. He genuinely didn’t know. After all, who would believe him? Being tortured by the literal goddamn Devil for fighting him? Nearly dying, in the process? God, he could barely move his back still… No one would believe him. They’d all think he was insane. The only one that would would’ve been– no, B.J still won’t believe him, either. Oh, god… It was just eating Wesley up from the inside. Couldn’t partake in any of the sorrow. Otherwise, it’d… drown him.

            “ Please, for the love of God, don’t make me talk about it. I don’t want to. ”

      … Wesley had changed a lot from since they saw each other, it seemed. Instead of being more calculated, able to calm himself with that trick he taught him, and was able to crack jokes despite his trauma, Wesley just seemed afraid. Terrified. Like a cornered animal or a scared child. Whatever happened to him– it might’ve affected him even worse than what Rudi had done to him, and that was terrifying enough for him to remember.

      He lightly shook his head, lifting his bandaged hand up to rub at his good eye– it was wet now. Tears.

      “ I-I genuinely… I genuinely can’t. Is– is there something else we can talk about? Anything at all? You’ve– you’ve liberated America, right? Rebuilt the Kreisau Circle? Bloody good job… ” He spoke a bit quickly with that now, just desperate to focus on something else.

#Welcome to Immora (IC) #You are not allowed to leave here; You are embedded. (RP) #Uh oh-- Hijacked! (Muse switch event) #Burdened by war (William Joseph Blazkowicz) #Old-blooded remnant (Richard Wesley) #Age of the Harbinger (Wolfenstein crossover) #(ohh i wonder what wes's response to b.j still insisting on telling him what happened before he hesitated would be...) #(this is optional but) #(gimme the angst tea.....) #ask to tag tw #nazi tw #nazi mention tw #trauma tw

[brymstcne-a]

//SWINGS YOUR DOOR OPEN..........

WHAT ARE YOUR DAVOTH'S THOUGHTS ON BOTH WASSLYS??? i must learn from Both Davoths

Richard Wesley is currently one of the only humans who have managed to anger this particular Dark Lord by a lot. Killing him would be mercy at this point, not punishment. And that was why he decided to torture him instead and refuse to give him the death he would have otherwise deserved.

Corrupted Wesley, on the other hand? He was highly confused at first, but eventually, he considers him as this: Child. Precious child. Must protect at all costs. (Even if how Davoth does it can be toxic to the poor man at times.)

#Fallen pleas (Ask answered) #Ruler of Hell (Davoth) #Old-blooed remnant (Richard Wesley) #My Sweet Summer Child (Demon Wesley AU) #If only she stayed a scribe (Headcanons)

[brymstcne-a]

REBLOG IF YOU ARE HELLA BORED AND WOULDN’T MIND SOME CURIOUS ANONS.

#Playing with fire (Prompts/Memes) #(i know i've already reblogged a prompt but here's another to badger davoth about himself and whatnot) #(off-anon curiosity is okay too!)

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“I saw the results. London got redecorated, and not in the best way.” B.J sighed. “We did a number on it though-- No point of saving it once the Nazi fuckwits got a hold of it. Sorry in advance for the mess you’ll hear about.”

“Damn, almost every single OSA agent got murked? My condolences for yer loss.” The soldier shook his head. “But I found the file of someone I haven’t heard of his status yet...” He looked at a dossier file he had in hand.

“Says here his name is Caleb Wyckoff, Shadow Operative. He’s assumed to be MIA though.” He spoke of the missing operative. “I don’t know much about him except for what’s stated here. And I can’t really ask you about him now, whatnot with how you are.”

He closed the dossier file and took a closer look on Wesley. He was SO injured-- Some of those cuts, bruises and lashes which were out of the ordinary. Could the Nazis have perfected their ways to torture people?

But then again, something was off, and as much as Blazkowicz had no idea on what Wes had gone through beyond little of what he told him, he felt it as much.

“There... Has to be more to the shit that happened to you beyond those looks in the eye.” He had to be honest-- Something didn’t quite sit right with him, but he didn’t exactly know what. He needed Wesley to explain, even for a little bit.

@brymstcne​ continuing from here

      Wesley never expected to find himself somewhere with so many friendly faces.

      Wounded to high hell, almost delirious with fever if it weren’t for him trying to cling onto his thoughts to properly speak to B.J, felt like his whole body was on fire. It was hard to breathe, and, honestly? He actually found himself flinching when seeing B.J’s face. That had to be him. Not Blazkowicz. He thought. Hell, he wanted to bring his arms up to hide his face out of instinct, but a Resistance medic softly said, “ Don’t move, Agent One. ” What Wesley preferred to go by. The Welshman slowly peered up with a gasp of a wheeze, focusing on him again… no markings, no– no red eyes… oh, thank god… oh thank god…

      “ Norman Caldwell…”  Wesley shakily repeated the name, letting it roll off the tongue– “ F-Familiar… might have met someone he was related to… ” He croaked his words out, lifting a bandaged hand over his chest with a shaky exhale.

      “ H-Hell, lots of shite’s happened, B.J. ” He sputtered out as an answer, “ I-I don’t know where to begin– AUGHK–! ” He suddenly gasped and clutched at his chest, crumpling into his cot like he was some balled-up piece of paper. “ H-Hhhaaa… T-There was Whittaker… Carwyn, as well. All dead. ” He glanced away a bit, and it looked to be he actually struggled with using that same trick he taught B.J, pursing his lips into a frown. Seemed like it hit him pretty hard when he said that.

      “ I–.. I-I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about what’s… happened to me yet besides minute details. ”

            A moment of reluctance now…

      “ I… I really don’t think I can… ” His old friend couldn’t look him in the eye, instead just clasping his hands together with a cough into his arm. “ You– ohh, hell… I-I can barely even think, wish we could’ve met over– over a drink, or something… E-Except you’d be bloody ashamed of me… hah… ” He lulled his head back… Guy looked exhausted. Ready to pass out.

      “ W-What dire straits I get myself into, eh? A-All the time… h-hahaha.. ha… ” He tried to chuckle it off, though those tears in his eyes definitely didn’t help his case. He looked terrified.

            What DID happen to him?

      “ R-Revolution’s failed. Everyone’s dead, I have to hide as some kraut-loving bastard named Thomas Hartmann, got myself tortured by Gestapo and some other bastard on separate occasions, and… god, I’m a lazy sod, eh? Not fighting at all… Guess that’s where we’re really different, heheh.. ”

#Welcome to Immora (IC) #You are not allowed to leave; You are embedded. (RP) #Uh oh-- Hijacked! (Muse switch event) #Burdened by war (William Joseph Blazkowicz) #Old-blooded remnant (Richard Wesley) #Age of the Harbinger (Wolfenstein crossover) #(b.j is hella suspicious of some of wesley's injuries) #(it could be worse than just some power-hungry tyrannical government and their servants)

[brymstcne-a]

//do bj.............. because hear me out..... wesley and bj reuniting in tnc??? as friends?? i give this unto you. bonus about wesley telling him abt trashlord... this is abt that prompt u showed hAUSIDHASD

"Blazkowicz, we have a man down-- And a new resident of the submarine. You might know who that is.

That was all that was said to William Joseph Blazkowicz before he rushed over to the infirmary section of the stolen Eva's Hammer. He might know who that is? What did Grace mean by that?

Soon enough, he could see on the bed-- A face he thought had been dead. He had to leave him behind in that failure of a mission during the Castle Wolfenstein raid.

There this handsome little bastard was-- Richard Wesley was alive, after all. He was one of B.J's first few friends he had known in his life, aside from that of Billie, that long lost childhood companion of his.

Blazkowicz sucked in and out some breaths before he began. And in the most effective way to combat panic that Wes taught him, so long ago. "...In late Super Spesh's words-- You look like ass. Dear god, I missed him-- He tried to help me escape execution. Failed though."

"You and Norman Caldwell could've gotten along-- Though he was a well-known paranoid in a nutshell." He had a weak chuckle. "Having his theories about aliens and all..."

"What happened to you anyway? I had leave you behind when we failed to steal Helga's files, and never heard of you since. You... Also mentioned having friends working with you before, but I never heard of 'em."

He sat down on a chair, right next to Wes. "We... Have a lotta stuff ta catch up with."

#Welcome to Immora (IC) #Fallen pleas (Ask answered) #You are not allowed to leave here; You are embedded (RP) #Uh oh-- Hijacked! (Muse switch event) #Burdened by War (William Joseph Blazkowicz) #Old-blooded remnant (Richard Wesley) #Age of the Harbinger (Wolfenstein crossover) #(original recipe billy is still happy to see wes alive even if he's not doing *two* well) #(yes i just pulled out a pun)

[brymstcne-a]

Send me a Name my Muse knows, and I’ll play them for a whole Thread!

#Playing with fire (Prompts/Memes) #(eyes emote) #(there's also names this particular trashlord knows via reading his bio!) #(sigewulf's off limits though because that's ken's muse and not mine)

[brymstcne-a]

agcnt1ne​:

      At this rate, he’d believe anything Davoth said out of pure and true desperation for some kind of peace with himself.

      He had been attempting to lead the way until he saw those Nazi bastards, and it was very, very obvious that there was all sorts of anger building up in him, bubbling up like magma and about to explode. Slowly, he shambled away from ‘B.J’, narrowing his eyes at the figures in their black uniforms– SS.

      He lowered himself for a moment just to grab one of the rifles from the bloodied ground, picking it up and looking it over like he was a Sentinel having to conduct the changing of the guard ceremony, slowly wiping off the blood and small gibs of flesh, and had moved to grasp at his old knife from his hip, and attached it to the rifle– a bayonet knife. As he looked over the rifle again, he chambered a round, taking in a breath… Then, exhaling.

      Once he was finished with his little rifle inspection, he began to make his way to the soldiers, his movements slow and careful… like a predator stalking its prey… until one of the soldiers turned their head with a frantic, “ S-SCHEISSE–!! ”

            Now, Wesley attacked.

      Suddenly, Wesley charged forward– the Nazi had some kind of electrical pack on his back, by the looks of things, as he lifted his gun to fire, yet he completely missed the Welshman. The newborn demon’s movements were swift, too fast to comprehend, and he rammed his bayonet through the Nazi’s stomach, forcing him into the wall. And without any form of flinching or remorse, Wesley pulled the trigger, grunting as the butt of the rifle hit his shoulder. Then, he pulled it out, watching the poor bastard gasp and wheeze under his helmet. Now, Wesley focused on his other target.

      His next victim was shaking in his boots, looked to be some sort of Kommandant, judging by the uniform. The Commander was lifting up his pistol, visibly panicking, chambering a round, but he barely had time… when Wesley suddenly ran forward, stabbing the bayonet upwards right through the Nazi’s jaw.

      There was a gurgle, a moment of panic and twitching, only for the Nazi to go limp when Wesley had chambered one more round, and once again, fired. His head had practically exploded like a watermelon, bits of bone and gibs flying, and remnants of the hat falling down… His bayonet was still stuck in the remainder of his head, though.

      Slowly, he lifted a foot up and pushed his sole against the Commander’s chest, pushing him backward while he yanked his bayonet out of him, letting out a deep sigh.

      … He might’ve been a bit covered in blood, but he barely noticed. Instead, he turned his head back to Davoth, cracking a grin in his direction… He didn’t seem to have noticed how brutal it all really was.

      “ Did bloody good or what, eh? ”

      He paused for a moment, though, when there was a twitch from the first soldier, making him look down. He detached the knife from the rifle and tossed it to the side, merely tucking his knife away, and pulled his pistol from his coat to aim it. Without any mercy, he pulled the trigger, hearing the final gunshot ring out as the Nazi’s head dropped with a thud.

      “ Eugh… Bastard. ”

Davoth watched how the massacre before him took place. The newly awakened Halfling before him was so effective, so brutal. No stops ever pulled for his enemies.

Before, he observed Wesley having trouble with that. He saw the torture that took place, the dogs that nearly put an end to his life... And to see him like this now? Morbidly therapeutic.

“Enjoying yourself there, aren’t you?” Davoth simply responded. “We need to move though, and fast. Go too slow and we’ll be cornered.” And he wasn’t lying either. It was urgent to move as fast you could to escape enemy ambush.

Davoth himself decided to entertain whatever tech his former colony had, and picked up one of the weapons dropped from the two dead officers-- A pistol.

Now this weapon was pathetic if compared to what Immora would have, but it would still prove useful. And it had a full round of bullets too.

“Let’s go.” Davoth beckoned to Wesley as he continued walking forward.

#Welcome to Immora (IC) #You are not allowed to leave here; You are embedded. (RP) #Ruler of Hell (Davoth) #Old-blooded remnant (Richard Wesley) #The gates of Hell await. (Crossover) #Age of the Harbinger (Wolfenstein crossover) #My Sweet Summer Child (Demon Wesley AU) #ask to tag tw #violence tw #blood tw #gore tw #death tw #graphic tw #nazi tw #(davoth: that's my boy. get more souls for me)

[brymstcne-a]

Wes already saw Hell, huh? Makes it all the better. He wouldn’t even see it coming, even despite being an agent. Not especially after he became corrupted. Partially, that is, but it still counts.

Seeing this man full-on corrupted would be interesting, but that... Would cause unintended consequences. He had not done this before nor would he ever think of doing it again, but he would keep Wes in his current condition for as long as he could. For a Primeval like him, he was more than capable of doing it.

“Sounds like you went through Hell then. I’m sorry that happened.” If only Davoth meant what he said, but it seemed right now like he did. “I’ve heard rumors about cult groups within the Nazis, but to think this would actually happen...”

It looked like Wes had a home from what he said earlier, and he offered to show Davoth the way. Good.

“Sure thing, Wes. Lead the way.” The only thing that would make Wes suspicious though was the fact that his body was littered with tattoo-like markings underneath his clothing. He had to hide it, or find a way to mask them away from sight...

He could still feel the aspect of Wrath gnawing at the Welshman’s mind though, and he could feel that just by looking at him. Yes, this is going to be even better. More souls to harvest... And eventually, he would have his subjects take this planet without them ever being able to respond to it properly. Though this will take literally years to achieve so.

“Oh right. I’m the one between us both who has the most Nazi body count. But if you’re up to contributing for some more, I won’t mind.”

brymstcne​:

Oh. Oh. Damn, those who made contract with his agencies really did that to this poor man? He was initially planning on killing him and turning him into one of his own subjects.

But this will do. Anything to prevent the real William J. Blazkowicz from reaching Wesley, yes…

“Mhm.” ‘Blazkowicz’ simply nodded. “Strange though. Ya did this, but ya blanked out…? Explain what happened. From the beginning.” He helped Wesley walk out of the mess. “I’ll listen as we walk out.”

Davoth wanted to laugh at this. That would blow cover though– Whatnot with the possibility of Terror Billy still trying to look for him.

But he was the first who had this face. The rest have been made in his image, as much as he hated it. He still wondered where that brat Krizyr had been running off to… And starting a whole bloodline to keep throwing wrenches in his plans.

      “ Going to be a bit tough, that one. ”He admitted, wrapping an arm around him to keep his footing– seemed like he was stumbling a tad, and there were audible creaks from one of his legs. “ … I… I think, if I can remember, I… crawled out of this strange place– red, everywhere. Looked like… fire and… brimstone, and– bone and flesh, it was terrifying. Strange things were everywhere, Blazkowicz– I can only describe them as demons. ” He frowned as he continued, his eyes shifting around nervously in his exhausted state… Wales, he remembered. They were near his home.

      “ Then, when I saw those… Nazis, I panicked, and… I found m’self like this. A shoddy explanation, that is, but that’s all I can give. ”

      “ … Y-You wouldn’t mind helping me home, would you? I can lead the way. ” He soon nervously asked, while they stepped out of the building… Wesley couldn’t help but feel a tad disturbed with himself, though. Okay, no, VERY disturbed. There was still a part of him that wanted more of that carnage, that bloodshed, to feel blood dripping down his arms and his face, to feel the way their bones would crack in his grasp… Something about that was wonderful.

      He wanted more of it. Deep down, he did. He wanted to make all of those Nazis suffer for everything they’ve done. Everything they’ve done to him. And he could catch glimpses of their uniforms… some still walking around.

      “ … Hold on, B.J. I know you’re one for killing these krauts, but I think it’d be better if I did a bit of damage, eh? ”

#Welcome to Immora (IC) #You are not allowed to leave here; You are embedded. (RP) #Ruler of Hell (Davoth) #Old-blooded remnant (Richard Wesley) #The gates of Hell await. (Crossover) #Age of the Harbinger (Wolfenstein crossover) #My Sweet Summer Child (Demon Wesley AU) #(davoth. davoth. be careful what you wish for)