click mod contest weapon http://forums.datarealms.com/viewtopic.php?f=4&p=551641#p551641

Location: In your office, earning your salary. Did you really think they wouldn't mark it up.. but i've got same problem here but as always there should be discount part places.

damn u guys are mad

Sabaton's got a new album out three days ago, and I've completely fallen in love with a couple of songs on it.
Inmate 4859, To Hell and Back, Resist and Bite and Hearts of Iron are all wonderful tracks.

lol i dont think that is possible

It's the name of a bloody power metal song. Of course it sounds a bit cheesy. It's also the name of a book and a movie based on said book. The book and the movie both tell the tale of a person named Audie Murphy.

oh isent that the devils music

Yeah. It corrupts your immortal soul and makes you go blind.

wow ok. cooking cupcakes



more images later

Power Metal? I'm interested.

Time for some drama from a game I have been playing, from the perspective of the character I am playing.


Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Caerik the Great Dragon, Lord of Dragonstone, Duskendale and Massey's Hook. I am old now, six and sixty years of age, yet I am as strong as an ox still, and I command my armies from the front as a proper leader should. For you see, I am a Targaryen, one of the few who still has the blood of old Valyria coursing through my veins, strong and pure. Today is the 28th of March, 335 years after Aegon's Landing. I am famed throughout the known world as one of the greatest commanders of men the world has ever seen, but allow me to explain my history to you.

I arrived at Dragonstone fifty years ago, now. It feels as though it was only yesterday that I stepped off the ship to gaze upon the mighty fortress on the isle of Dragonstone. I had been very busy on the run from King Robert Baratheon's assassins ever since I was but a youth of nine years old, travelling from city to city alone aside from my companion - an eagle that followed me across the Free Cities and kept me safe at night from those who would wish me harm. It sounds foolish, but if it was not for that bird I would not be here to tell you this story. Of course, the original eagle has long since died, but one of it's descendents came to me and accompanied me as it's predecessor, so for that I am thankful for the eagle as been nothing but goodluck and has even saved my life on the battlefield a dozen times.

But I digress. I arrive on the island to see the people weep at my appearance, grateful to see their long lost lord return to them. The previous lord was not of true Valyrian descent and was quickly disposed of. I hung him from his own walls, a glorious sight to inspire the hearts of my men. For a year I studied the island, learning about it's inhabitants. You see, unlike my predecessor, I kept to the true faith.

The Valyrian faith. By Meraxes I swear upon my immortal soul that the gods have watched over me, there are no other explanations. I would say I have been blessed by them, too. Perhaps I was the chosen to bring order to this world?

I frequently took walks around the castle, learning more of it's layout. It was on one of those walks I met a beautiful young woman called Haera. I know not her last name, I think that perhaps she had been lowborn. In my youth I was a strong and handsome man indeed, though I still tower above lesser men. I remember it clearly - she was sitting in the castle gardens, and as I stared at her I realized that we were completely alone.

I'm not sure what came over me then, but I tore off her gown and took her right there beneath an apple tree - and when her belly began to swell a few months later we married. I had planned a great feast and celebration, only to learn finally that Dragonstone, my island, my people, were poor. So we had a modest wedding, bringing out the ancient statues of Balerion, Meraxes and Vhagar out of a dusty storage room within the bowels of the castle and had our ceremony there before the feast. Remember, I follow the Valyrian faith. That will come in very important soon.

A few months later, she gave birth to our child, Caren. She was well built like me, a giant amongst women, but she was perfectly proportioned, inheriting the beauty of her mother and I. Fortunately, Haera must've had a Dragonseed in her ancestry, since she had the silver hair and violet eyes of Valyria - and so Caren inherited the look.

It was then I started my plans for my own conquest, like that of Aegon before me. What had once been the Seven Kingdoms had crumbled into dust, nothing more than a shattered memory of the distant past. Only a few still live now to remember a time when such a thing still existed. I believe there to actually be none left, now. The Kingdom collapsed fifty years ago, though perhaps it fell even earlier than that. None can be sure, but when I started my plans I learnt that the entire world was divided into small fiefdoms, every province lacking their own suzerain overlords. Feudalism had collapsed into anarchy and disorder.

Naturally, I set out to make the world proper again.

So I took a second wife. Rhae. I never truly loved her like I did Haera, the marriage with Rhae was more out of necessity than love or lust. I'm sure she quickened after our wedding night, for it certainly didn't take much trying for to be with child! I had set my council to work - it was the following morn that I learnt that my Master of Laws, a person I have long forgotten, had fabricated a claim on a nearby island. Driftmark. Wealthier than Dragonstone, with great shipyards that I would need for my conquest later. The lord of Driftmark at the time was a Velaryon, and a follower of the Faith of the Seven or whatever the Westerosi call it.

I invaded, and outside the walls of Driftmark I slew the lord Velaryon in single combat without taking a wound myself. Then I turned and cut down his son and heir, too. I had the old lord's sword, a Valyrian steel blade, at my disposal. And I will never forget the look on the father's face as he bled out on the floor, watching his son die before him as I drove my steel through his breastplate as though I was sinking a knife into a juicy ham. It was a good look. I had been the better general that day, though I didn't need to be - we outnumbered the enemy by around a thousand swords, mostly a mix of light and heavy infantry. With their armies crushed and with no hope of relief, the castellan tipped his banners and we took the castle. I allowed what remained of Lord Velaryon's family to flee in peace, though in reflection I realize now that Lord Velaryon's daughter was quite comely indeed - I should've taken her as part of my spoils, but I was a different man, then. I cleared out the treasury and gave them some to survive on so they could buy passage to the mainland while I held both titles. Using the higher tax base of Driftmark, I developed Dragonstone into a land I could be proud of. That my people could be proud of.

And Dragonstone prospered, it's people celebrating my rule.

And when I returned to Dragonstone the victorious hero, all the maids speaking in hushed whispers about their young lord who had felled two annointed knights in single combat, I found Rhae holding a young babe.

My son and heir, Corris.

Immediately I had him betrothed to his sister, as was the Valyrian custom. A truly divine marriage blessed by the gods. Naturally the population and my court didn't at first understand, though they quickly converted to the true faith, seeing as how I was clearly blessed by the gods. My young son proved to be a strong titan of a man, though only an average swordsman. But with the strength he had, gods, he didn't need to be skilled. With only a single swing he could cut a main from balls to brain, even through full plate. Naturally, I celebrated the birth and the war with a great feast, paid for by the spoils of war.

And when the guests had left, my beloved wife Haera came to me and...well, suffice to say she gave me a daughter nine months later, Daena. She's a sweet girl, patient and charitable. But she barely lifted a finger when it came to work and by golly it showed. She fancied herself a plotter, but I could see through her lies even when she was little. Now? Now everyone can see through them, though she doesn't see herself as being so clever anymore.

Corris was different. He's a better commander than I was and he's bound to be a better ruler, too. He's completely fearless to the point it's a fault - he most certainly won't back down from a fight. We learnt that the hard way later on. He's patient as well, patient, kind and charitable.

And lustful, too. We caught him with his first girl in the buttery when he was only five and ten years old. She was only a serving girl, attracted to his good looks and station no doubt, but when I found them I couldn't help but laugh and turn around and leave him to his business, the way a good father should. Two years later, when he started to visit the brothels I told him to always carry protection. So, every couple of nights he would depart with a swordbelt around his waist before heading into town. And of course, there were plenty of children in the castle who had an almost uncanny resemblence to Corris.

Though that may be because I sired them. Who knows? I mostly gave up my ways after I married Haera. I can hardly put the love I have for her into words. She was shy, always hiding away in the gardens that she loved so much. She always made sure our children got an equal number of treats too, though she never had any herself.

Over the years, things started to change. I got a second son, Sigurd, who was betrothed to Daena. Sigurd is more at home with coin than a sword, but he's quite capable with either. He became a knight himself after visiting a tourney in King's Landing and when he returned he knighted all his siblings and myself, a loophole the Westerosi never expected I am sure. Sigurd has one major difference from his siblings.

He won't touch girls. Or boys for that matter. Further down the line he went on to sire three children, two sons and daughter, with Daena. And then he swore a vow of Celibacy and swore never to touch a girl again. I don't know how he does it.

It was at this time I took Caren and Corris on as my wards, teaching them the ways a noble should act - Caren proved to be a sweet little girl indeed, always loving to work hard and to read. She even started to write poetry, though since she put so much effort into her work she became a better swordsman than her brother, though she was humble enough to let him win all the time. I invaded the island of Claw Isle, very close to the mainland and brought my fleets. The castle was small, smaller than Dragonstone. The battle outside was short - I had a much larger host thanks to bringing the combined armies of Dragonstone and Driftmark. Ardrian Celtigar, the Red Crab, fled inside the walls after we smashed his army against them, painting the ground crimson.

For a month we sieged the walls before I tired of it and ordered an assualt. Ladders were put to the walls and rams to the gates as we forced our way inside. I led the assault personally. Corris served as my squire, helping me with my armour as I told him what would happen in the siege and what to do if I was to fall in battle.

It was then my son made me promise to come back. I swore an oath that I would. And when the ladders hit the wall and I stormed up there in black and red armour, I fought like a man possessed.

And by chance, met the Red Crab himself. He had a special axe, a Valyrian steel axe, called Crab's Pincer or something like that. I am no slouch when it comes to fighting, but this man was in a league of his own. Again and again we went at eachother. I was bigger and stronger, sure, but he was fast, dodging blow after blow, letting me burn myself out in the process. But when he attacked, I could simply lift my titanic shield and catch the blow, shove him back and renew my assualt. This deadly dance, a maelstrom of clashing steel, felt as though it lasted an hour on end till he got lucky.

And slammed his axe into my side, cleaving straight to my hip. I should be thankful, if I wasn't wearing my armour I would've died right there and this story would be much shorter indeed... I shoved him back, practically sent him flying, and staggered back to my feet as blood poured from my wound. I watched as Ardrian advanced towards me, bloodlust in his eyes. He lifted his axe for one final swing and muttered something quietly.

And I watched as Corris, eight years old at this time, slide a thin dagger through the lord's plate. Straight into his right knee, slipping through the chainmail and causing the lord to drop his axe in pain.

I took the advantage and grabbed him as he fell. And as Corris watched as my blade burst through Ardrian's throat in a shower of hot blood I thought I saw a smile.

The castle fell, the latest holding of my small little kingdom. I was officially declared a High Lord by my people, and spent months recuperating from my wounds.

As you could expect, the first thing I did upon returning to Dragonstone was to promise Corris a knighthood when he came of age. And then I staggered back to my chambers to find my wives waiting there to comfort me. Even wounded, I could still perform my husbandly duties well enough. Years pass - I felt quite content with my little realm, developing and building it into a machine of economic might, negotiating trade deals with Essosi traders to bring rare spices and fine glass work to Dragonstone. People flock to my banners, seeing a chance for peace and a good life.

And then my third son was born. And by Balerion, he was born to fight. He's stronger than I am, bigger too. A much better swordsman aswell, and a demon on the battlefield. Unlike my other sons he fights with a parrying dagger in place of a shield and has a furious temper. He didn't have a passion for girls or for reading or working.

His passion was for fighting. I should've known that. At sixteen years old he came to me one day and told me he was going to cross the Narrow Sea and join a mercenary band.

Knowing my son, I let him. After he was born I got another daughter, Lynisa. The two were betrothed and later married - before he went across the Narrow Sea I commanded him to be sure that his wife was pregnant, so that if the worst came to happen our dynasty could continue. He did his husbandly duties, waited four months to see that she was showing and then packed up and left.

I'll be honest. There was no son I loved more than Sylarik. There was a deep understanding between us, one I can't exactly describe, a bond between father and son and a bond between warriors, too. And like how Corris made me promise to come back, I made Sylarik promise to return to me.

And at the age of twenty four, he did, arriving in the throneroom wearing a long black cloak that covered his face. None of us recognized him, and when he reached for his sword my guards struck into action only to fall like wheat before a scythe - yet they were only knocked out. After five guards fell to the ground either unconcious or in agony, he threw off his cloak.

And his wife rushed out and hugged him. We all did, and celebrated his return with a grand feast. A feast so expensive lesser houses would need to save for a year for what we spent in but a single night. We feasted and laughed, my wives pregnant with my last two children. Two boys, Aenys, who would later go onto be called the Wise Dragon, and his half-brother Maelor, the Laughing Dragon.

And for a while, everything seemed like it was going to be alright, that I could die in peace. I even started to have new castles built for my extra sons - Sylarik recieved the first of these, a strong little holdfast for him to call his own.

But perhaps someone should've told that to Renfred Rykker. May he rot in the hell of whatever god he has gone to. He struck without warning, landing six thousand swords on Driftmark and laying waste to every town, village and castle he stormed. I raised what I could, five thousand men. If Driftmark hadn't been ravaged I could've perhaps brought eight thousand in total, but we marched for him nonetheless.

And the battle that happened, by the gods I remember it now. I was leading the centre, two thousand swords. My Master at Arms had the right flank, Corris on the left with Sylarik having the vanguard. The smell of blood filled the air, the horrific wailing of men as they begged for mercy in vain. Neither side gave mercy, even to those who yielded - this was a battle to the death. I was in my fourties, then, a great fighter still.

But I couldn't be everywhere, and I couldn't fight too many people at once. I took three quarrels from a group of crossbowmen, collapsing to the ground as I watched a knight run towards me, spinning his flail thinking he could kill the Great Dragon with a single swing.

And I watched as Sylarik caved his head in with a mace before throwing it to the side and dragging me from the field. I was in no state to fight, not anymore, so I gave him my sword, our family's sword.

And he took command of the army. The battle turned around quickly - he rallied the demoralized men and smashed forth again and again. Corris had been encircled, about to be slain just as what happened to me when Sylarik burst forth and cut down a dozen men. I wasn't there, Corris told me afterwards, but Sylarik was furious.

We won the battle - and the entire nobility of Duskendale was left dead on the field. We turned the war around, and we invaded them instead, taking the entire province, our foothold on the continent.

And I gave the territory to my son, Corris, so that he could govern it in my name. And when Sylarik came to me after the battle I let him keep the sword. He had saved me, my heir, and the entire realm. What greater reward could I bestow?

Gods...these words sadden me to write. I'm sorry, but these are difficult words...difficult times too.

We realized together, Myself, Corris and Sylarik, that peace could only be maintained if we we're aggressive. We could never let ourselves get so soft as we were when Rykker raided Driftmark. So once again the dragon banners we're raised and our armies went to war. Hollard Hall and Brindlewood, two seperate territorys next to one another we're smashed beneath our armies, their forces crushed on the field. I didn't even lead an army in the war - Corris and Sylarik were eager to prove themselves as men grown and each had taken half of the main army and crushed both provinces with it.

It was at this time we started to learn of the greater...political situation of the world. The Riverlands had reunited, not under the Tullys but under a lesser house, seemingly holding the Kingdom of the Trident together with sheer force of will. In the North the Umbers work at piecing together the realm while the Starks sit behind the walls of Winterfell. The King beyond the Wall rallies his troops to march south, to take the opportunity posed by the collapse and to take the Wall once and for all.

We needed more power. So we annex Brindlewood and Hollard Hall, and I give those titles to Corris so that, when I die, they would be reunited with the main titles and he can give them to one of his sons.

He hadn't had much luck in his marriage, at first. His first two children, a boy and a girl, had both been born still, never taking a breath, never looking upon the eyes of their parents. Corris had cried, and it was Sylarik and I who comforted him. Sigurd was at that time, looking after his younger brother Aenys and Maelor, who were too young to understand what had happened.

You cannot imagine how this made us feel, not unless you have seen a woman struggle for hours in vain, to watch a babe be plucked from her before it even drew it's first breath. Finally, in 307 they got lucky, and even though everyone dreaded the pregnancy incase of a repeat of what happened last time...

She gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Named Caerik, after his grandfather. Though in all honesty, he had more in common with his uncle Sylarik than either myself or Corris - both of them were as tough as hardtack, though Caerik was more...zealous? Very much so - he supports the idea of a holy war.

I suppose he got his wish in the end.

It was just a normal day when it happened. By all the gods, I don't know how this happened.

Corris got lost in the woods.

For a week we hadn't seen him, and that meant we had to assume the worst.

Sigurd became my heir, since Caerik at that time was still in Caren's womb. Sylarik confronted me in secret.

And he told me Sigurd was the son of another man.

I knew that to be impossible. It saddens me to say it, but Valyrian hair and eyes are weak traits. If I was to lie with a woman who had black hair and blue eyes, the child would have black hair and blue eyes. Not silver hair and violet eyes. There were very few people on the island with those traits on Dragonstone at the time Sigurd was concieved - indeed, it was only women by my reckoning, and I had seen a lot of women in my day.

So I disagreed, saying Sigurd was my son. Was this a play to knock Sigurd out of the line of inheritance? If it was, Sylarrik was next in line since Sigurd only had daughters. The conversation got heated. Very heated.

And we ended up in a brawl. We both said things we regretted, and Sylarik fled to his keep.

I had thought that maybe, we could sort this out, work together to unravel the mystery and see if he was true.

Corris returned to us the day after, rough but otherwise alright. He had been seperated from his hunting party and got lost in the woods. But by this time, Sylarik sent a message so unthinkable that I never, ever could've expected any son of mine to do such a thing.

He told all the vassals of the realm that Sigurd was fathered by another man. I was furious - he had caused doubt about my son's parentage, so I demanded his presence at Dragonstone immediately. He came to court and saw Corris - I had him in the throne room too, hoping that seeing him there would help bring tensions down. The three of us were close, you see, so it looked as though it could be sorted it out once and for all.

It wasn't meant to be.

Something snapped in Sylarik's mind and what happened next happened so fast as to be a blur. He drew his sword, our family weapon, and swung at Sigurd. Corris tackled him to the ground, but Corris was most certainly not as strong as Sylarik and was thrown to the side. Sylarik stood atop of him and lifted his sword into the air.

He was about to become a kinslayer.

I tackled him myself, not caring for my own life.

And then I beat my son. Brutally, as hard as I could. In that moment, Sylarik ceased to be my son, but became a stranger, someone I didn't know anymore.

...I need a drink. The next part is...too much for me almost.

I beat him so hard I hardly recognized him anymore. We took him to the maesters and they worked on him for hours. Even in the heart of the castle I heard the screams. And I started at my bloody hands.

It was at this time I learnt that Rhea was pregnant again. By my hand, of course. All my children are obviously mine, unless Corris has been ♥♥♥♥ his mother.

Though, in all honesty, such a relationship isn't frowned up by this relationship. It's encouraged. By somewonder we avoid birth defects, but there's a saying that applies.

"Whenever a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin to decide whether they will be great or mad, and the entire world holds it's breath."

I suppose we learnt which Sylarik was.

So I banished him.

To the Wall.

Where he could never contest Corris' claim, nor could he kill his siblings. We left without speaking, and that was it.

And so ended the relationship with my favorite son.

We went to war again, claiming three more provinces for my nation. Stonedance, Sharp Point and Wend Water, all in one massive war.

And then Rhae died in childbirth, the babe dead with her. I might not have loved the woman the way I did Haera, but I had come to respect her and cherish her too. Out of fear, I never touched Haera like that again.

She died last year.

And...

And I didn't know what to do. They didn't see me for over a week. I didn't bathe, eat or drink, I simply sat next to the sepulcher. And wept.

I had been betrayed by my favorite son, I had been forced to strip him of his lands and titles. Both of my wives were dead.

What was left for me to do other than...change? To become a stronger man? One who wouldn't be affected by these changes?

I turned to drink. And fighting. And ♥♥♥♥. My eagle watched as I did all that, as though I was trying to send myself to an earlier grave. Yet each year I remain healthy.

Even as a plague took away Caren, even as Pneumonia took Rhaella. When Caren died, I once again waited in the tombs. Thinking.

And then, something snapped.

I left the crypts, cleaned myself up, ate a hearty meal, drank a cask of wine, slept with the maid who brought me both, went to my study and declared war.

On King's Landing, the greatest city in what had once been the Crownlands. The seat of what was the Seven Kingdoms.

And what will be the Seven Kingdoms again. I will not live to see such a victory, I am too old, now. My son Corris might see the Crownlands restored, Caerik another kingdom added to it.

We sailed there. Twenty five thousand swords at my back, six thousand of them mercenaries from Essos.

And as I look up at the walls of King's Landing and watch as they throw smallfolk off the walls so that they can better distribute food for the remaining soldiers, I realize something.

I have lost all hope in humanity. There is no good from man. None. My son Sylarik turned against those who loved and cherished and trusted him. I murdered Rhae with my cock, just as I murdered Ardrian Celtigar and Lord Velaryon with my sword.

So, when I found Lord Steffon's twelve year old daughter I passed her around the army for the men to use, paraded her infront of the gates and slit her throat myself. We slaughtered the peasentry in front of the gates, relishing in the flow of blood as we watch the men on the wall stare in horror. We

The Red Keep alone can field seven thousand men. King's Landing another three thousand. The entire territory? Twenty thousand or so.

We slaughtered the all.

And now we wait for the siege to end. Siege towers are being built on my order, the skins of flayed men on the front to protect them from archers and wooden arrows. Our blades are sharp and my men lust for war.

And even if it kills me, I will see King's Landing fall.

I will see King's Landing burn.

And from the ashes of the city will rise a new Dragon, a new nation, forged in the flames and harder than ever.

Then...only then will my life be complete.




Sorry if no one is interested.

But I think this should more than make up for the quality drop over the latest few pages. And I had a major urge for writing.

And this is only fifty years in game!

I've got another 2000 to go!

And if the gods are fortunate to the Westerosi, Lord Caerik won't live much longer...

You uh, you sure this is the right place, caek?

his post isn't in the wrong place he is just showing us something..

Exactly!

I enjoy writing a lot and I thought the life of that character so far would've been quite interesting considering all the stuff that's happened to him. And of course, I think it makes a pleasant change from what the last few pages have been about, if you don't mind me saying. And of course, I'm always curious to know what people think of my writing. It's probably the only thing I am actually good at.

On a completely different note, but slightly related to your name. cacodemon caekdaemon

Why isn't there a DOOM mod? the sprites have everything needed to turn it into a mod.