The world. So blue. So green. So rich with life.
A landmass. Birds flit amongst the clouds.
A forest. The calls of various avian creatures alight in the air.
A field. Sunflowers dance around the rays of sunshine.
A patch of grass. What makes this patch different from the many other thousand patches?
The blades themselves...stabbing upwards towards the endless blue above.
The blades lie below actually, in the earth below. A skeleton. Unmarked grave. A knight in shining armor, now tarnished and dirty.
The blade, one large thing that would dwarf all the blades of the grass above.
A King buried below its subjects.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Chu-Do (Lady of Hunger) & The Old-Atom-Bomb Dreams
The first dream, lest I forget, includes 3 others and I piloting large Gundam-like mobile suits. The cockpits are flooded with a clear liquid and we are sealed within pressurized suits, making it respond to all of our commands. There are these drill-like things on our heads that open locks with strange kanji on them, and we are shrunk down to microscopic size to infiltrate a secret base smaller than the tip of a pencil.
Later, I leave my ship near some type of prearranged location (after becoming large again) near Coney Island. I disembark and meet with the other pilots and myself from the past(there are 8, only 4 will make it through training to the rank of pilot), learning from the lead scientist that he wants me to set off an "atom" bomb before going back into the future, sabotaging the moon. At my questioning glance he points up to the moon, which is aglow with the thousands of people, buildings and structures of the Moon Empire.
I nod and go back to my ship, where the other pilots and I face down shadowy microscopic robots. We then board the largest robot we can find, and all of us perish except me. I am able to land on the largest ones motherboard and overload its CPU, splitting the atoms in its quantum computer and catapulting my back to the future where, carrying the damaged suits of my comrades I watch the moon flicker on and off before going dim.
-----------------------
In the next dream, I find myself in a tent out in the desert. Me and a fair skinned oriental woman are preparing to enter an otherworldly place home to the Lady of Hunger, where we can learn forbidden secrets. The place resembles a 100ft tall rectangular structure with 3 large circular drainage openings 10ft off the ground. It looks as if liquid has passed through the drains before, but they are dry now. On one side of the short sides there are 2 walls that extend straight out from the structure about 30ft. There are 4 hooks near the summit of each wall, spaced 6ft from each other. On each hook is the naked corpse of a man or woman. There is a simple wooden door inset onto the structure here, with a placard above it that reads "Only once may the warmth of life pass through me."
My guide instructs me that we must take a different entrance, and we use a grappling hook to ascend to one of the drains, cut through with files, and gain the drainage works. As we descend into the den, which is of rusted steel and brightly painted wood, my foot brushes against a chain suspended from the ceiling and makes a twinkling noise.
A great, fat woman, unbelievably fat in fact, stirs up from the far side of the room. We hurriedly stuff our mouths with seeds from bags we brought, as the hungry forces in the chamber would suck the life from the seeds rather than us. The rule is to never speak unless you have something in your mouth. We apologize for disturbing the woman, called Great Lady Hunger, and I inquire as to learning the dark crafts of her knowledge. She softens a bit, and asks if I desire Gans-shur-kam, a ritual where my tongue would be sliced down the middle and "the shingles clipped off as it makes when folded over". I politely refuse, even though the woman tells me it would "place me closer to Chu-do, world of the hungry dead, than anything else."
Great Lady Hunger then shows me another visitor who arrived but a decade ago: a once fat man, bald and slit-eyed oriental, sits in one corner of the dank and dark room. He shivers and mouths strange words as one of his hands, covered in sores peeling and pooling foul, scribes obscene pictograms and words into a large book before him. He shivers in the warmth of the chamber, and all that I can make of his face is that he is silently crying as flecks of blood spill from his mouth as each individual side of his tongue writhes of its own accord.
Turning away from the grisly scene, I inquire as to the Lady's hospitality. She apologizes hurriedly and offers me and my guide sushi and varied pots of noodles. As the nuts in my mouth begin to wash away, I ask for her promise that the food is not poisoned, as it is said that the food of hunger is more greedy than hunger itself. She states it is not, and a green miasma lifts off of the food. As I replace the nuts in my mouth with the food and greens before me, she states that the food of hunger can also be thoughts. As I ponder this, she states further that to be polite, a promise should make a promise, and she desires for company. I promise to stay with her for a week, and I do so: never sleeping, never talking without food in my mouth.
Of my week spent with Great Lady Hunger, I learn many secrets of spellcraft both horrible and amazing. The great knowledge of the skeleton comes easy, yet at one point my guide attempts to take some food without asking permission. The food burns her from within, and she drops her nutbag with a clatter as she disappears screaming into the darkness. The nuts I have left now dwindling, I leave the chamber in a daze with a book similar to the one the man who was one with Chu-do was scribing. A gift for the gift of company to a hungry soul, a small dead dog follows me loyally out into the desert as the nuts spill from my mouth.
Later, I leave my ship near some type of prearranged location (after becoming large again) near Coney Island. I disembark and meet with the other pilots and myself from the past(there are 8, only 4 will make it through training to the rank of pilot), learning from the lead scientist that he wants me to set off an "atom" bomb before going back into the future, sabotaging the moon. At my questioning glance he points up to the moon, which is aglow with the thousands of people, buildings and structures of the Moon Empire.
I nod and go back to my ship, where the other pilots and I face down shadowy microscopic robots. We then board the largest robot we can find, and all of us perish except me. I am able to land on the largest ones motherboard and overload its CPU, splitting the atoms in its quantum computer and catapulting my back to the future where, carrying the damaged suits of my comrades I watch the moon flicker on and off before going dim.
-----------------------
In the next dream, I find myself in a tent out in the desert. Me and a fair skinned oriental woman are preparing to enter an otherworldly place home to the Lady of Hunger, where we can learn forbidden secrets. The place resembles a 100ft tall rectangular structure with 3 large circular drainage openings 10ft off the ground. It looks as if liquid has passed through the drains before, but they are dry now. On one side of the short sides there are 2 walls that extend straight out from the structure about 30ft. There are 4 hooks near the summit of each wall, spaced 6ft from each other. On each hook is the naked corpse of a man or woman. There is a simple wooden door inset onto the structure here, with a placard above it that reads "Only once may the warmth of life pass through me."
My guide instructs me that we must take a different entrance, and we use a grappling hook to ascend to one of the drains, cut through with files, and gain the drainage works. As we descend into the den, which is of rusted steel and brightly painted wood, my foot brushes against a chain suspended from the ceiling and makes a twinkling noise.
A great, fat woman, unbelievably fat in fact, stirs up from the far side of the room. We hurriedly stuff our mouths with seeds from bags we brought, as the hungry forces in the chamber would suck the life from the seeds rather than us. The rule is to never speak unless you have something in your mouth. We apologize for disturbing the woman, called Great Lady Hunger, and I inquire as to learning the dark crafts of her knowledge. She softens a bit, and asks if I desire Gans-shur-kam, a ritual where my tongue would be sliced down the middle and "the shingles clipped off as it makes when folded over". I politely refuse, even though the woman tells me it would "place me closer to Chu-do, world of the hungry dead, than anything else."
Great Lady Hunger then shows me another visitor who arrived but a decade ago: a once fat man, bald and slit-eyed oriental, sits in one corner of the dank and dark room. He shivers and mouths strange words as one of his hands, covered in sores peeling and pooling foul, scribes obscene pictograms and words into a large book before him. He shivers in the warmth of the chamber, and all that I can make of his face is that he is silently crying as flecks of blood spill from his mouth as each individual side of his tongue writhes of its own accord.
Turning away from the grisly scene, I inquire as to the Lady's hospitality. She apologizes hurriedly and offers me and my guide sushi and varied pots of noodles. As the nuts in my mouth begin to wash away, I ask for her promise that the food is not poisoned, as it is said that the food of hunger is more greedy than hunger itself. She states it is not, and a green miasma lifts off of the food. As I replace the nuts in my mouth with the food and greens before me, she states that the food of hunger can also be thoughts. As I ponder this, she states further that to be polite, a promise should make a promise, and she desires for company. I promise to stay with her for a week, and I do so: never sleeping, never talking without food in my mouth.
Of my week spent with Great Lady Hunger, I learn many secrets of spellcraft both horrible and amazing. The great knowledge of the skeleton comes easy, yet at one point my guide attempts to take some food without asking permission. The food burns her from within, and she drops her nutbag with a clatter as she disappears screaming into the darkness. The nuts I have left now dwindling, I leave the chamber in a daze with a book similar to the one the man who was one with Chu-do was scribing. A gift for the gift of company to a hungry soul, a small dead dog follows me loyally out into the desert as the nuts spill from my mouth.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
The Gamean Tree
I am sitting on a log with a bunch of other young boys as a large Hercules like man strides up and down the line calling out for someone to match the courage of Arcus Aurelios. I stand up as he tosses two boys aside proclaiming them to match the courage of a pithy nemeian scout. The rest of most of the boys and I follow him to a cliff with a huge olive tree growing out of the side of it. The man explains that this is the Gamean Tree, old with the weight of centuries. Growing on its farthest branch is a single fruit. The man explains that we must overpass the courage required to reach that fruit and retrieve it. Many of the boys climb out onto the tree courageously, but I stay back until I am one of three left. The man asks me why I hesitate, and I ask him the origins of the tree as the last boy plummets to his death to the sunbleached ruins below. He explains that the Gamean Tree was originally carved of Gaia's very roots, yet in its time under the hard sun and under the yoke of insects, it has become irritable and sunburned. Another boy falls to his death as the very branches shake under him. I run down the cliff a ways to retrieve some mud, and as I scale the tree I apply the cool wetness to its branches. Nothing moves. The tree is still as I moisturize it. I pluck the bright white fruit and bring it back to the man. He smiles and motions me and the other remaining two boys to follow.
Monday, April 19, 2010
The Wish
one day long ago,
a band of thieves found a cove,
filled with treasure so remote,
from orderly civilization to be trove
and a dagger wielding rogue found
a small jug or lamp full and round
among the treasure in a hoard
full enough to make him a lord
he uncorked the jug with fervor bold
letting loose the dark and wet smells of old
as a mist around him began to form
as the mist around the light did scorn
a great djinn rose to the ceiling
his power was so great, the rogue went reeling
in a tongue of lapis and silver he spoke
chanting the rogues freedom from the yoke
to the rogue he promised desires dual
for two of his promises to be made full
the rogue cried out in joy
and his look turned clever and sly
he wished for great power first,
over man and woman thus,
he wished for magicks terrible second,
to rule on high as King eternal
and with that the djinn did vanish,
his task finished, the dissolving mist of lapis,
heralded the bright new dawn,
for the rogue turned King of pawns
and as his soul was black as death,
azure it became in curious wealth,
he strove for knowledge and understanding,
sat for many hours under noisome tutors pandering
the sands of the sun,
black and fired became,
as the western kingdom,
wished for power of the same
and in the borders around,
that hellish circumference found,
the Antithesis of all was born,
to lead a people lost and forlorn
and from their soft and aerie perch,
the angels of above cried,
as heaven, hell and aether tied,
were cut off from earth
and without that heavenly host at call,
the men of earth were set to fall
till a champion rose up at last,
with blade slash and magicks that blast
and with power granted unto him,
by a spirit unknown to the above,
banished the evils that he once wore himself,
into the pages of forgotten lore
and as the heavens, hells and earths were again tied,
God came down in wondrous form to chide,
to congratulate and revoke,
the rogue who had broken free from divine yoke
and as he became a man once again,
the rogue was granted a single desire by God,
and the thought of power did cross his mind at length,
yet was banished summarily by an idea and nod
and he whose soul had been black,
and changed to lapis and back,
wished a wish to make his soul pure and white,
spoken in truest form, a language of starlight:
"Forgive Judas."
a band of thieves found a cove,
filled with treasure so remote,
from orderly civilization to be trove
and a dagger wielding rogue found
a small jug or lamp full and round
among the treasure in a hoard
full enough to make him a lord
he uncorked the jug with fervor bold
letting loose the dark and wet smells of old
as a mist around him began to form
as the mist around the light did scorn
a great djinn rose to the ceiling
his power was so great, the rogue went reeling
in a tongue of lapis and silver he spoke
chanting the rogues freedom from the yoke
to the rogue he promised desires dual
for two of his promises to be made full
the rogue cried out in joy
and his look turned clever and sly
he wished for great power first,
over man and woman thus,
he wished for magicks terrible second,
to rule on high as King eternal
and with that the djinn did vanish,
his task finished, the dissolving mist of lapis,
heralded the bright new dawn,
for the rogue turned King of pawns
and as his soul was black as death,
azure it became in curious wealth,
he strove for knowledge and understanding,
sat for many hours under noisome tutors pandering
the sands of the sun,
black and fired became,
as the western kingdom,
wished for power of the same
and in the borders around,
that hellish circumference found,
the Antithesis of all was born,
to lead a people lost and forlorn
and from their soft and aerie perch,
the angels of above cried,
as heaven, hell and aether tied,
were cut off from earth
and without that heavenly host at call,
the men of earth were set to fall
till a champion rose up at last,
with blade slash and magicks that blast
and with power granted unto him,
by a spirit unknown to the above,
banished the evils that he once wore himself,
into the pages of forgotten lore
and as the heavens, hells and earths were again tied,
God came down in wondrous form to chide,
to congratulate and revoke,
the rogue who had broken free from divine yoke
and as he became a man once again,
the rogue was granted a single desire by God,
and the thought of power did cross his mind at length,
yet was banished summarily by an idea and nod
and he whose soul had been black,
and changed to lapis and back,
wished a wish to make his soul pure and white,
spoken in truest form, a language of starlight:
"Forgive Judas."
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Druc: The Library that is Not
(Yet more fluff. I wrote this about 2 months ago.)
On the great library of Maljinn, much can be said. A unique form of knowledge storage, the "library" is also known as the "Druc" or "Hall". Built into the base slopes of Mt. Strohm itself, the Druc resembles a semicircular tunnel of sandstone with a sloped ceiling and walls such that there are no corners. Books and scrolls brought here for storage are not clumsily stacked upon one another in wooden shelves. Works of knowledge are formed into easily accessible runes inscribed into the sandstone of the Druc. A simple dweomer accesses a rune and either displays its contents as a major illusory copy of the book/scroll which may be examined in the central veiwing area of the Druc or allows the caster to query its contents for an answer or where such an answer may be found.
The main passage of the Druc is open to the air above and features 3 staircases leading down into the Central Way, of which the 2 secondary passages exit from. Three foot diameter holes in the ceiling illuminate the Central Way, as do braziers lit during night. The Sijani, white robed librarians, wander amongst the runes, selling Runetell dweomers to supplicants and each wearing a Ring of Flying to access the Runes above, yet the ring only functions in the Druc. The Central Way houses approximately 900,000 works. The library is open from sunrise to sunset, yet the Old Way is open only from noon to 3:00pm.
The Sijani number at less than 20, and are all humans of a non-descript persona and form. They are led by a Grand-Scribe, who is currently a female Mage of the Grey Powers named Sisrain Alquyn.
Older, and more restricted works of more power and influence are held behind a long, blank walled, guarded, limestone corridor accessible by a 9ft tall limestone archway in the far center outer area of the Central Way. Beyond the corridor awaits a grand spiral staircase down, which takes approximately 20 minutes to descend. The staircase ends in a pitch black storage area with a Golden archway on the far wall. Beyond the last arch awaits a great hall with walls ascending up into the darkness. The Runes on these walls are much larger than those in the Central Way, and the hall extends a full mile out from the arch. Each Rune covers the entirety of a 15ft width of each wall, and there numbers about 95 works of a powerful or dangerous nature here. All supplicants in the Old Way require an armed escort of 3 Blue Guards and 2 Sijani Scribes. Those who resist being escorted back are left behind, as the guards will only harm anyone in self-defense of themselves or the Sijani. The Old Way is locked magically and is only open-able from noon to 3:00pm. Due to the size of the spiral staircase, all supplicants, Scholars and Guards are to be ascending the staircase by 2:25pm. It is unknown why such strict rules surround the Old Way, yet those foolish enough to linger after the mark of tbe third hour are not heard or seen from again come tomorrows noon.
Of curious interest is what lies at the end of the mile long corridor of the Old Way. A great door, seemingly made of the dullest gold, lies shut against all. No sounds may be heard from what lies beyond it, and it is unadorned with any known magic or adornments or gems. Rumours say that the door was uncovered when the hall was being mined in old times. It is unknown if the door opens or is open-able. Rumours append the disappearance of all who stay longer than 3pm to the door letting loose some type of horror and then closing come next noon.
The atmosphere in the old way is slightly chilly and musty. The Sijani say the silence is what bothers them the most.
On the great library of Maljinn, much can be said. A unique form of knowledge storage, the "library" is also known as the "Druc" or "Hall". Built into the base slopes of Mt. Strohm itself, the Druc resembles a semicircular tunnel of sandstone with a sloped ceiling and walls such that there are no corners. Books and scrolls brought here for storage are not clumsily stacked upon one another in wooden shelves. Works of knowledge are formed into easily accessible runes inscribed into the sandstone of the Druc. A simple dweomer accesses a rune and either displays its contents as a major illusory copy of the book/scroll which may be examined in the central veiwing area of the Druc or allows the caster to query its contents for an answer or where such an answer may be found.
The main passage of the Druc is open to the air above and features 3 staircases leading down into the Central Way, of which the 2 secondary passages exit from. Three foot diameter holes in the ceiling illuminate the Central Way, as do braziers lit during night. The Sijani, white robed librarians, wander amongst the runes, selling Runetell dweomers to supplicants and each wearing a Ring of Flying to access the Runes above, yet the ring only functions in the Druc. The Central Way houses approximately 900,000 works. The library is open from sunrise to sunset, yet the Old Way is open only from noon to 3:00pm.
The Sijani number at less than 20, and are all humans of a non-descript persona and form. They are led by a Grand-Scribe, who is currently a female Mage of the Grey Powers named Sisrain Alquyn.
Older, and more restricted works of more power and influence are held behind a long, blank walled, guarded, limestone corridor accessible by a 9ft tall limestone archway in the far center outer area of the Central Way. Beyond the corridor awaits a grand spiral staircase down, which takes approximately 20 minutes to descend. The staircase ends in a pitch black storage area with a Golden archway on the far wall. Beyond the last arch awaits a great hall with walls ascending up into the darkness. The Runes on these walls are much larger than those in the Central Way, and the hall extends a full mile out from the arch. Each Rune covers the entirety of a 15ft width of each wall, and there numbers about 95 works of a powerful or dangerous nature here. All supplicants in the Old Way require an armed escort of 3 Blue Guards and 2 Sijani Scribes. Those who resist being escorted back are left behind, as the guards will only harm anyone in self-defense of themselves or the Sijani. The Old Way is locked magically and is only open-able from noon to 3:00pm. Due to the size of the spiral staircase, all supplicants, Scholars and Guards are to be ascending the staircase by 2:25pm. It is unknown why such strict rules surround the Old Way, yet those foolish enough to linger after the mark of tbe third hour are not heard or seen from again come tomorrows noon.
Of curious interest is what lies at the end of the mile long corridor of the Old Way. A great door, seemingly made of the dullest gold, lies shut against all. No sounds may be heard from what lies beyond it, and it is unadorned with any known magic or adornments or gems. Rumours say that the door was uncovered when the hall was being mined in old times. It is unknown if the door opens or is open-able. Rumours append the disappearance of all who stay longer than 3pm to the door letting loose some type of horror and then closing come next noon.
The atmosphere in the old way is slightly chilly and musty. The Sijani say the silence is what bothers them the most.
Dream, dreamt on the night of March 30th, 2010
I am once again a rather roguish character exploring a ruined keep surrounded by jungle or silent wood up the coast from a picturesque port surrounded by gypsies. I had heard of the ruin from an aged fellow of the Rom, and within I find golems of iron and steel and oil, a guardian of time itself: the crumbling stones of the keep. Narrowly avoiding the stones and falling debris, I pick a lock or two to a more pristine hall of golems fair in combat. They fall more due to rust and wear and tear than my blades, and on a pedastal trapped somewhat I find the hunting bow of a long lost king and 3 arrows of ashwood with featherings of crow and raven. I feel watched, and I hurry with my prize to the terrace above as a dark terror seems to emanate from my previous path. I make the terrace and come upon a medusa of stone and a golem of crystal and metallic. An arrow for each, and they fall in surprise, the arrow falling to splinters on each. I hurriedly gather up their loot: a blade of crystal, rings and baubles, wands of magic potential and jewels fat and rich, a helm of cobalt and leather of a hundred perfectly skinned snakes. As colors bleed into one another, the keep explodes, throwing me atop a minaret of old gold into the sea. I wash up on the shore near the gypsy camp, and before I can gather my possessions and steal a horse a woman waithe runs off with the helm of blue stone. I follow for a time, but, weary and battered and wet, I lay off and take rest in a palatial inn.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Dream, dreamt on the night of March 27th, 2010
An assortment of muppet characters steal all of my belongings out of my house. Then I see a woman standing on a train holding the shoulder of an elderly woman with white hair but turned awaywhile the train speeds into a cement wall and crashes but as the train is compacting the woman turns to me with black hair and opens her mouth. Then the train reverts back to moving normally but the elderly woman is at the end of the train looking away. The other woman turns towards me but as she is pulled towards the window by an unseen force she whispers "Natalie". Then I am standing in space above a beach, having an arguement with Poseidon, Hades and Hermes about delegation of authority.
I use Apollo, Ares and Hermes as an example in talking about getting someone else to help judge the proper recipient of something but I cant remember the words I use. Then I quote a line from a movie that represents this, and Zeus himself appears (I then remember discussing the other gods waking Zeus up to solve this problem. He says that I was the only one wise enough to see the chaos inherent in the discussion, and as he lights up the twinkie shaped gallery we are in he begins to trace a finger along the glass all around and create new stars and shapes in the sky. He then looks up and notes me standing on the lapis floor with the other 3 Gods and tells me the answer I seek is reachable by "KOOM.2000". He gestures to a computer opened to Google at the other end of the hall and smiles.
I use Apollo, Ares and Hermes as an example in talking about getting someone else to help judge the proper recipient of something but I cant remember the words I use. Then I quote a line from a movie that represents this, and Zeus himself appears (I then remember discussing the other gods waking Zeus up to solve this problem. He says that I was the only one wise enough to see the chaos inherent in the discussion, and as he lights up the twinkie shaped gallery we are in he begins to trace a finger along the glass all around and create new stars and shapes in the sky. He then looks up and notes me standing on the lapis floor with the other 3 Gods and tells me the answer I seek is reachable by "KOOM.2000". He gestures to a computer opened to Google at the other end of the hall and smiles.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
O Time thy Pyramids
To gaze upon the spires and minarets
of a thousand far lost souks
To hear the azif of the sands at night
to speak of their many million mysteries
To see of the many naiads carousing among the waves
the shores of time immemorial
While it needs a remembrance
to be remembered by any but its custodians
But what seelie grace lies upon all the airs I have graced!
What rays of light catch so many massed lichens about!
What truth lies upon the hidden crags of the shore
As a thousand silent seas sit so quietly
And the deluge sounds,
Such might!
Ah, but beauteous and most perfect sin!
Lady of the dark waters!
Your estranged companion form,
Lord of the bright firmament!
To say "Ah, but I already know this."
And in doing promote the ignorance of so many ages
That fell proud rich Rome
And led old Aegypt to dismal decay
To seek the ruins of time,
And open the tomb itself.
The tomb of the Astronomer Kings,
The Wonders of all of our experiences
-Dedicated to Jorge Luis Borges
of a thousand far lost souks
To hear the azif of the sands at night
to speak of their many million mysteries
To see of the many naiads carousing among the waves
the shores of time immemorial
While it needs a remembrance
to be remembered by any but its custodians
But what seelie grace lies upon all the airs I have graced!
What rays of light catch so many massed lichens about!
What truth lies upon the hidden crags of the shore
As a thousand silent seas sit so quietly
And the deluge sounds,
Such might!
Ah, but beauteous and most perfect sin!
Lady of the dark waters!
Your estranged companion form,
Lord of the bright firmament!
To say "Ah, but I already know this."
And in doing promote the ignorance of so many ages
That fell proud rich Rome
And led old Aegypt to dismal decay
To seek the ruins of time,
And open the tomb itself.
The tomb of the Astronomer Kings,
The Wonders of all of our experiences
-Dedicated to Jorge Luis Borges
The Emerald Tablet of Hermes Trismegistus, as written by I.
Ερμής ο Τρισμέγιστος - το σμαραγδένιο δισκίο
1. Αυτό ισχύει βεβαίως, και η αλήθεια σίγουρα ενώ επίσης είναι ψευδείς σίγουρα έτσι ψευδείς.
2. Ποια είναι τα παραπάνω είναι από τα κάτω και το είναι κάτω από τα παραπάνω. Το έργο του είναι θαύματα από τη μια και τα πάντα δεν έχει ακόμα τίποτα δεν.
3. Και όλα τα πράγματα που ξεπήδησε από αυτή την ουσία μέσω μιας ενιαίας προβολής. Πώς είναι θαυμάσιο έργο του! Πρόκειται για την αρχή μέρος του κόσμου και του θεματοφύλακα, ενώ πόσο θλιβερές είναι το έργο της, ότι από κάθε τι που ξεπήδησε πίσω από τίποτα δεν με πολλούς μια προβολή. Για να είναι όμως μια μικρή πτυχή του κόσμου του.
4. Ο πατέρας του είναι ο ήλιος και η μητέρα του είναι το φεγγάρι. Έτσι, ο άνεμος που έφερε μέσα σε αυτήν και η γη που τρέφονται.
5. Ο πατέρας του φυλακτά και κατόχου του θαύματα. Μητέρα των σκέψεων και διανομέας των musings.
6. Τέλεια στην εξουσία που αποκαλύπτει τα φώτα. Κάνετε λάθος στην αδυναμία που κρύβει το σκοτάδι. Τέλεια στην εξουσία που αποκαλύπτει το σκοτάδι. Κάνετε λάθος στην αδυναμία που κρύβει το φως.
7. Είναι μια φωτιά που έγινε γη μας. Χωριστή τη γη από την φωτιά και θα πρέπει να προσκολλάται πάνω σε αυτό που είναι λεπτή από εκείνο που είναι χονδροειδής, με φροντίδα και σοφία. Δεσμεύοντας την πυρκαγιά στη γη, και ας αγνοούν αλαζονεία επιμείνουν στα pedantial εγώ.
8. Είναι ανεβαίνει από τη γη στο ουρανό. Είναι αποσπάσματα τα φώτα από τα ύψη και κατεβαίνει προς τη γη που περιέχει η ισχύς των ανωτέρω και τα παρακάτω για να είναι με βάση τα φώτα. Κατά συνέπεια, το σκοτάδι φεύγει από αυτό.
Είναι κατεβαίνει από τον ουρανό στη γη. Είναι αποσπάσματα του σκιές από τα βάθη και ανεβαίνει στον ουρανό που περιέχουν τη δύναμη του κάτω και τα πάνω για να είναι με το σκοτάδι της σκοτάδι. Ως εκ τούτου το φως δραπετεύει από αυτό.
9. Η μεγαλύτερη δύναμη υπερνικά όλα όσα είναι λεπτή και αυτό διαπερνά όλα αυτά είναι χονδροειδής. Το λιγότερο ισχύς λήγει πριν από κάθε τι που είναι προφανές και διαπερνάται από όλους ότι είναι καθαρή.
10. Ο σχηματισμός του μικρόκοσμου είναι σύμφωνα με τη σύσταση του μακρόκοσμου. Όπως το αντίστροφο.
11. Οι μελετητές που αυτό το δρόμο τους. Οι πολεμιστές που αυτό δεν πορεία τους.
12. Για το λόγο αυτό τρεις φορές ο Ερμής ήταν υπερυψωμένα με τη σοφία και την παραφροσύνη.
13. Αυτό είναι το τελευταίο βιβλίο του, ότι κρύφτηκε στο κατακόμβη. Αυτό είναι το πρώτο βιβλίο του, ότι εμφανίζονται στο ναό του. Είναι η αρχή και το τέλος, το τέλος είναι η αρχή.
1. Αυτό ισχύει βεβαίως, και η αλήθεια σίγουρα ενώ επίσης είναι ψευδείς σίγουρα έτσι ψευδείς.
2. Ποια είναι τα παραπάνω είναι από τα κάτω και το είναι κάτω από τα παραπάνω. Το έργο του είναι θαύματα από τη μια και τα πάντα δεν έχει ακόμα τίποτα δεν.
3. Και όλα τα πράγματα που ξεπήδησε από αυτή την ουσία μέσω μιας ενιαίας προβολής. Πώς είναι θαυμάσιο έργο του! Πρόκειται για την αρχή μέρος του κόσμου και του θεματοφύλακα, ενώ πόσο θλιβερές είναι το έργο της, ότι από κάθε τι που ξεπήδησε πίσω από τίποτα δεν με πολλούς μια προβολή. Για να είναι όμως μια μικρή πτυχή του κόσμου του.
4. Ο πατέρας του είναι ο ήλιος και η μητέρα του είναι το φεγγάρι. Έτσι, ο άνεμος που έφερε μέσα σε αυτήν και η γη που τρέφονται.
5. Ο πατέρας του φυλακτά και κατόχου του θαύματα. Μητέρα των σκέψεων και διανομέας των musings.
6. Τέλεια στην εξουσία που αποκαλύπτει τα φώτα. Κάνετε λάθος στην αδυναμία που κρύβει το σκοτάδι. Τέλεια στην εξουσία που αποκαλύπτει το σκοτάδι. Κάνετε λάθος στην αδυναμία που κρύβει το φως.
7. Είναι μια φωτιά που έγινε γη μας. Χωριστή τη γη από την φωτιά και θα πρέπει να προσκολλάται πάνω σε αυτό που είναι λεπτή από εκείνο που είναι χονδροειδής, με φροντίδα και σοφία. Δεσμεύοντας την πυρκαγιά στη γη, και ας αγνοούν αλαζονεία επιμείνουν στα pedantial εγώ.
8. Είναι ανεβαίνει από τη γη στο ουρανό. Είναι αποσπάσματα τα φώτα από τα ύψη και κατεβαίνει προς τη γη που περιέχει η ισχύς των ανωτέρω και τα παρακάτω για να είναι με βάση τα φώτα. Κατά συνέπεια, το σκοτάδι φεύγει από αυτό.
Είναι κατεβαίνει από τον ουρανό στη γη. Είναι αποσπάσματα του σκιές από τα βάθη και ανεβαίνει στον ουρανό που περιέχουν τη δύναμη του κάτω και τα πάνω για να είναι με το σκοτάδι της σκοτάδι. Ως εκ τούτου το φως δραπετεύει από αυτό.
9. Η μεγαλύτερη δύναμη υπερνικά όλα όσα είναι λεπτή και αυτό διαπερνά όλα αυτά είναι χονδροειδής. Το λιγότερο ισχύς λήγει πριν από κάθε τι που είναι προφανές και διαπερνάται από όλους ότι είναι καθαρή.
10. Ο σχηματισμός του μικρόκοσμου είναι σύμφωνα με τη σύσταση του μακρόκοσμου. Όπως το αντίστροφο.
11. Οι μελετητές που αυτό το δρόμο τους. Οι πολεμιστές που αυτό δεν πορεία τους.
12. Για το λόγο αυτό τρεις φορές ο Ερμής ήταν υπερυψωμένα με τη σοφία και την παραφροσύνη.
13. Αυτό είναι το τελευταίο βιβλίο του, ότι κρύφτηκε στο κατακόμβη. Αυτό είναι το πρώτο βιβλίο του, ότι εμφανίζονται στο ναό του. Είναι η αρχή και το τέλος, το τέλος είναι η αρχή.
Friday, March 5, 2010
The Isle of Arch
Ancient tales tell of an island off the coast of West Africa that was, at some point in time, home to a old Muslim hermit. Tales say that this nameless hermit was so pious in his devotions, so zealous in his faith, that the ruins that shared the island with him took on some measure of power.
These ruins are of unknown origin, leftovers from some forgotten progenitor race. Their dimensions are of a conglomerate of arches, tall arches, short ones, slender ones, bulky ones. All made of clay and a peculiar red stone. These arches covered the isle from side to side, for the isle was of mostly rock and sand, raised in the middle and lower on its slopes down towards the waters around. Tales say that the very rock of the isle shone bright in the midday sun, and the surrounding waters were clear as clear crystal, like a curtain of blue glass, made this way by the zeal and pious peace of the hermit.
Ages later, when explorers landed upon the isle, they found peculiar carvings in the arches denoting the virtues of a good man: Compassion, Peace, Piety, Zeal, Wisdom and so forth. It is said that those who ventured underneath the arches would become unto the virtue of that arch...for a time. The most legendary of the arches was the arch that was labeled FAITH.
The faithful that passed under this arch were given feelings of peace and theophany. The faithless however, disappeared utterly and without trace. It is said that the only way to truly instill faith in the faithless would be to show them firsthand the glories of Allah, and such they would be taken to look upon his holy form in Heaven.
Now, it is said by beggars in the cities of old that there existed an antithesis to the faith and piety that bespeckled the nameless hermits arches. As alaways in such thing, there existed an opposite to the virtuous arches, hidden underground beneath the isle, reachable by a tunnel only those lacking in virtue could perceive.
It is said that in the arches in this lightless realm of vaulted halls and caves there lay those emotions no pious man should desire to harbor: Anger, Suffering, Desire, Chaos, Evil.
Legendary among this dark realm was the arch of FAITHLESSNESS. It is said that the only way to break the faith of the faithful, the only way to instill an eternal hopelessness, would be lock away those with faith who passed under the arch. They would be locked away, it is said by less reputable beggars, in a magical prison of hopelessness and eternal despair.
These ruins are of unknown origin, leftovers from some forgotten progenitor race. Their dimensions are of a conglomerate of arches, tall arches, short ones, slender ones, bulky ones. All made of clay and a peculiar red stone. These arches covered the isle from side to side, for the isle was of mostly rock and sand, raised in the middle and lower on its slopes down towards the waters around. Tales say that the very rock of the isle shone bright in the midday sun, and the surrounding waters were clear as clear crystal, like a curtain of blue glass, made this way by the zeal and pious peace of the hermit.
Ages later, when explorers landed upon the isle, they found peculiar carvings in the arches denoting the virtues of a good man: Compassion, Peace, Piety, Zeal, Wisdom and so forth. It is said that those who ventured underneath the arches would become unto the virtue of that arch...for a time. The most legendary of the arches was the arch that was labeled FAITH.
The faithful that passed under this arch were given feelings of peace and theophany. The faithless however, disappeared utterly and without trace. It is said that the only way to truly instill faith in the faithless would be to show them firsthand the glories of Allah, and such they would be taken to look upon his holy form in Heaven.
Now, it is said by beggars in the cities of old that there existed an antithesis to the faith and piety that bespeckled the nameless hermits arches. As alaways in such thing, there existed an opposite to the virtuous arches, hidden underground beneath the isle, reachable by a tunnel only those lacking in virtue could perceive.
It is said that in the arches in this lightless realm of vaulted halls and caves there lay those emotions no pious man should desire to harbor: Anger, Suffering, Desire, Chaos, Evil.
Legendary among this dark realm was the arch of FAITHLESSNESS. It is said that the only way to break the faith of the faithful, the only way to instill an eternal hopelessness, would be lock away those with faith who passed under the arch. They would be locked away, it is said by less reputable beggars, in a magical prison of hopelessness and eternal despair.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Come, Darkness Triumphant!
-The following account was discovered at the bottom of an inkpot in the recently uncovered cellars below the Scivener's Hall in the Arabian city of Irem. Formally known as Irem of the Thousand Pillars, the city vanished into the Saharan sands without a trace. Carbon dating places the scroll, which was sealed in a thick coating of wax and unidentified blood, at a date approx. Around 2400 B.C.
The account, while somewhat difficult of a piece to translate, is written very precisely in a well known dialect not common to the general Ubar region in which Irem is found. The following is the excerpt of the account I thought you would find an interest in.
From the Accounts of Aram Al-Azif, Personal Scribe of Vizier Jakkam
Day 249 of the 15th Year of Sultan's Rule:
In the past I have found these writings to be efficient ways of relieving the stress brought on by dealing with the incompetant fools in Sultan's palace. The matter of stress is no different now, yet it's source has somewhat changed. As I have found before, it pays to lay out even the most inauspicious detail of my actions and experiences for later perusal, lest some point of knowledge and importance be omitted. This is one of the reasons I am Personal Scribe to Sultan's Vizier.
On that note I shall start somewhat hurriedly on the beginning of my day today, even though it be a trivial thing. I was absorbed in my work in Sultan's Palatial grounds, sitting aside from the innumerable other scribes who were busy with who knows what, when one of the fools approaches me. He fails to notice my busied transliteration of a earlier text to modern tongues, and thrusts a thick, yellowing tome of curious design before my eyes.
"I need help Aram! This book has shown me why my neighbor acts so strangely!" He exclaimed. His name eluded me.
I batted an eye briefly upwards, noting with disdain the tome he carried to be some drivel on the Undead and, specifically, the signs and habits of the man-eating Ghul of the deep desert. Clearly he had been out in the sun for too long.
I stroked my goatee thoughtfully as I decided what I would have for lunch.
"What is your name, sirrah?", I asked him.
He began to answer but I shushed him with a wave.
"It has no matter. What matters here is that you thought to come to me with this fantasy, while I am clearly very busy with my work." I gave him a withering stare.
"I am sorry Agha-Azif, I was just so-"
"Ah. Not to worry, I will study the matter fully and advise a course of action. You just leave it to me." The fool ate it up.
"Thank you Agha-Azif! Thank you! I fear for my life almost every day!"
"Yes, very well, now please leave me to my work."
Look into it indeed. The only thing I would be looking into soon was a good kabob, and I sealed the matter by leaving that book on a stool in my quarters. Foolish drivel serves only to distract the mind from more awesome matters of knowledge.
Thusly, I left the grounds later that day, my transliterations almost complete for the Vizier's objectives, to pursue one of Irem's many famous kabob houses. The smell was intoxicating.
Yet something caught my eye that night in the market, something strange and pallid aside from the dust that covered the city, the streets, my scholarly white robes. A strange figure, slim and feminine, walked through the throngs in the sectors where I made my culinary rounds.
She would wait for times at certain pillars, pale and still in the sun-burnt landscape of Irem. I absolved to follow her but for a time, the thought of the kabob temporarily vanquished. I know not what I thought as I traced her steps to the seedier sections of the sprawling city. I was never married to another, as such things are forbidden to men of the scrolls, yet neither was I of the rank of eunuch.
She disappeared abruptly, slipping quietly into a small structure of ireedeemable disrepair. I followed her silently, looking about in the gathering dusk as I gently eased the door open. It was curious, to follow a woman to such a place. It is not my business, yet I could not help myself. The innards of the place were of old design, like some closed down inn or tavern. The woman had gone down to the cellar it seemed, and I was unsure if I should follow. A strange smell infused the air. A smell of rot and decay. Obviously this was an unclean place of mold.
She could be a protitute, yet I had a feeling that that was an incorrect assumption. I absolved to wait for her return and quietly, knowing how to move silently from a dozen years in the silent libraries of his Majesty, set myself down behind a rather large jug of liquor or some other type of beverage. The smell was more sweet near it, and what little light coming in from the holes in the ceiling illuminated far from my spot. I set myself down to wait.
I remember a spell of silence then, as several pairs of feet trod out from the cellar, and I found myself witness to something bizarre and strange. They all wore cloaks of dark threat, and had apparently brought up from the cellar an altar of stone. On the altar lay that woman of pale beauty, naked and shivering in the cold of night, black tresses flowing down from the stone.
Words were exchanged, and my curiousity and dread grew as I witnessed a passing and mutual drinking of a vessel of clay which contained a dark liquid. My fears conjured an ironic memory of that fool scribes fears on the subject of the supernatural Ghul, and I almost cried out in terror.
Yet I am made of sterner stuff, and I watched with a writers eye as they all bowed deeply to the woman. I was unsure if this was anything more than a rich womans fantasy or a small pleasure cult of one of those northern deities.
My thoughts were broken as the woman began convulsing, yet I know not if it was in ecstasy or pain or fear. One of the four or so figures raised up a knife of gold then, carved with a line of text I could not make out. He brought the knife down as they all, sans the woman, whispered a quick phrase. A slicing sound was heard, and he stepped back to allow me to see, with the fading sun's rays catching the last areas of the house, a river of crimson flowing forth from the sighing females form. The man had cut her arm, and she bled as the other figures bowed deeply whilst eagerly moving back and forth on the floor. I heard the sounds of slurping and licking, and the images of the Ghul in that fool scribes book came back to haunt me.
I was stunned. Numb in mind and body, I could barely process the scene before me. I believe I passed out in horror.
I awoke with a start. Noting it to be deep night. All was silent. I peered around the jug with dread, and noted a form laid in the stiffness of death on the altar. I appraoched it after noticing that the room was for the most part empty once more. The body was pale and empty of fluid. I dared not touch it. Yet, the knife lay on top of her breasts, almost alluringly, and I deigned to touch that. I picked it gingerly off of her chest, hefting it and noticing the writing on the blade. I could not make it out very well, and so I looked about for some brighter light from Sin (Translators Note: Sin was the pre-Islamic God of the Moon).
I brought it up to the light shining down from the hole in the ceiling, and I wonder now what I was thinking, to follow that woman, to be here. Perhaps life had gotten to droll. Too ordered and boring.
I studied the carving, deciding to steal the knife for further study after a quiet escape. Yet as I shifted my grip on the pommel, a sharp barb built into its design pricked me deeply. I gasped with pain and surprise, dropping the knife with a thud to the planked floor. The silence had been eerily shattered.
I stood still, hoping not to have aroused the cloaked figures which were surely asleep below. I could probably talk my way out of any theft by way of calling the guard on the corpse before me, whom I could claim to have spied from the street. Yet the sound I was expecting came not from the stairs nearby but from the pallid corpse on the altar. A rustling, raspy sound echoed forth from her dead throat, culling the rest of my courage. The word Ghul and the scared fool scribes face drowned in my mind.
I ran then, fleeing into the night through a window, as I found the door to be locked rather well. I noted with panting breath that it was not as late as I had earlier surmised, and decided to pursue the topic of the kabob once, again, perhaps to cool my nerves and mull over the topic of the murdered woman. Cult or no cult, that is a death sentence in Irem.
The item was rather juicy, lain out lengthwise on a dowel of wood for my enjoyment. Pepper and pork, stemming straight from the wealth-inducing trade we make with our neighbors, delicious. Yet, the meat and pepper would not go down, and I began to choke in my seat rather violently. I supposed the items to be tainted in some way, and made a formal complaint to the acting manager. Rather troubled, I continued along my way back to my apartments near the Palace.
Yet along the way a thirst struck me unlike any I had ever felt before, and as I looked about for a water vendor I began to hear a rhythm. It was a curious, all prevailing sound, and as I put my ear to the ground I could still hear it with the same intensity. As a couple walked past me the sound grew in intensity, and it dawned on me that I heard the beating of the many hearts of the city, alive and fresh and pure.
My mind was foggy and estranged from its normal feeling. I recalled once more that poor scribes face, and the words he spoke I heard once again. The kabob did not work to sate my hunger, would water slake my thirst?
I was a man of logic and pattern, yet I was learned enough to know when a man needs a physician. I started off in the direction of my house first to get some rest.
I never got even halfway. I doubled over in the pain. The heartbeats grew louder and louder and the thrist grew higher and higher. Logic! Reason! Order!
These were the watchwords of the scribe. Attention to details. The barb. The knife. The blood. Oh, the blood!
I understood my dread condition, yet my pacifistic nature overruled the realization of what I may have to do. Why me, why does misfortune befall the Vizier's scribe!
The body was found the next day by the guard, exsanguinated in an alleyway near the kabob house. My thirst was put to rest. Like those figures in the house, I used a weapon for the deed, falling away from the tradition of the flesh eating Ghul's. I could not bring myself to actually bite the flesh of the man I had killed. The knife entered his neck too easily to be real. He must have been an illusion in this horrid nightmare of phantasms. I must still be asleep in my study, yet I am not waking up.
And now I face the thought of how long will I live with this new addition to my life's account. I must do more research. I fear discovery. It is akin to a secret and taboo hobby. Shall I go to those figures in the house? Shall I turn myself over to the executioners block? Shall I wither and die of thirst among the wet ink of a thousand blackened and bloody tomes?!
Perhaps not. But why did I follow that enchanted, doomed woman, that dread mask for what would come! Why did I have to inspect the weapon, why must the scribe's curiosity overtake his conscious fear? I do not know. All is darkness, and I in the darkness I am alone, and the words on the page grow blurry, and I thirst once more for a palate that is dreadful to think on, but needed forevermore.
"I am the Dabbat Al-Ard! Beast of the Earth!
المؤمنين سوف يتدفق لي وأنا ما تتغذى على الدجال الأبد! أنا الموت.
And in peaceful solace shall I find nothingness, as the water of life should grace mine lips at last. So come, darkness triumphant!
-Anonymous
(Translators Note: The preceeding quote is dated to have been written approx. 200 years after the original account.)
The account, while somewhat difficult of a piece to translate, is written very precisely in a well known dialect not common to the general Ubar region in which Irem is found. The following is the excerpt of the account I thought you would find an interest in.
From the Accounts of Aram Al-Azif, Personal Scribe of Vizier Jakkam
Day 249 of the 15th Year of Sultan's Rule:
In the past I have found these writings to be efficient ways of relieving the stress brought on by dealing with the incompetant fools in Sultan's palace. The matter of stress is no different now, yet it's source has somewhat changed. As I have found before, it pays to lay out even the most inauspicious detail of my actions and experiences for later perusal, lest some point of knowledge and importance be omitted. This is one of the reasons I am Personal Scribe to Sultan's Vizier.
On that note I shall start somewhat hurriedly on the beginning of my day today, even though it be a trivial thing. I was absorbed in my work in Sultan's Palatial grounds, sitting aside from the innumerable other scribes who were busy with who knows what, when one of the fools approaches me. He fails to notice my busied transliteration of a earlier text to modern tongues, and thrusts a thick, yellowing tome of curious design before my eyes.
"I need help Aram! This book has shown me why my neighbor acts so strangely!" He exclaimed. His name eluded me.
I batted an eye briefly upwards, noting with disdain the tome he carried to be some drivel on the Undead and, specifically, the signs and habits of the man-eating Ghul of the deep desert. Clearly he had been out in the sun for too long.
I stroked my goatee thoughtfully as I decided what I would have for lunch.
"What is your name, sirrah?", I asked him.
He began to answer but I shushed him with a wave.
"It has no matter. What matters here is that you thought to come to me with this fantasy, while I am clearly very busy with my work." I gave him a withering stare.
"I am sorry Agha-Azif, I was just so-"
"Ah. Not to worry, I will study the matter fully and advise a course of action. You just leave it to me." The fool ate it up.
"Thank you Agha-Azif! Thank you! I fear for my life almost every day!"
"Yes, very well, now please leave me to my work."
Look into it indeed. The only thing I would be looking into soon was a good kabob, and I sealed the matter by leaving that book on a stool in my quarters. Foolish drivel serves only to distract the mind from more awesome matters of knowledge.
Thusly, I left the grounds later that day, my transliterations almost complete for the Vizier's objectives, to pursue one of Irem's many famous kabob houses. The smell was intoxicating.
Yet something caught my eye that night in the market, something strange and pallid aside from the dust that covered the city, the streets, my scholarly white robes. A strange figure, slim and feminine, walked through the throngs in the sectors where I made my culinary rounds.
She would wait for times at certain pillars, pale and still in the sun-burnt landscape of Irem. I absolved to follow her but for a time, the thought of the kabob temporarily vanquished. I know not what I thought as I traced her steps to the seedier sections of the sprawling city. I was never married to another, as such things are forbidden to men of the scrolls, yet neither was I of the rank of eunuch.
She disappeared abruptly, slipping quietly into a small structure of ireedeemable disrepair. I followed her silently, looking about in the gathering dusk as I gently eased the door open. It was curious, to follow a woman to such a place. It is not my business, yet I could not help myself. The innards of the place were of old design, like some closed down inn or tavern. The woman had gone down to the cellar it seemed, and I was unsure if I should follow. A strange smell infused the air. A smell of rot and decay. Obviously this was an unclean place of mold.
She could be a protitute, yet I had a feeling that that was an incorrect assumption. I absolved to wait for her return and quietly, knowing how to move silently from a dozen years in the silent libraries of his Majesty, set myself down behind a rather large jug of liquor or some other type of beverage. The smell was more sweet near it, and what little light coming in from the holes in the ceiling illuminated far from my spot. I set myself down to wait.
I remember a spell of silence then, as several pairs of feet trod out from the cellar, and I found myself witness to something bizarre and strange. They all wore cloaks of dark threat, and had apparently brought up from the cellar an altar of stone. On the altar lay that woman of pale beauty, naked and shivering in the cold of night, black tresses flowing down from the stone.
Words were exchanged, and my curiousity and dread grew as I witnessed a passing and mutual drinking of a vessel of clay which contained a dark liquid. My fears conjured an ironic memory of that fool scribes fears on the subject of the supernatural Ghul, and I almost cried out in terror.
Yet I am made of sterner stuff, and I watched with a writers eye as they all bowed deeply to the woman. I was unsure if this was anything more than a rich womans fantasy or a small pleasure cult of one of those northern deities.
My thoughts were broken as the woman began convulsing, yet I know not if it was in ecstasy or pain or fear. One of the four or so figures raised up a knife of gold then, carved with a line of text I could not make out. He brought the knife down as they all, sans the woman, whispered a quick phrase. A slicing sound was heard, and he stepped back to allow me to see, with the fading sun's rays catching the last areas of the house, a river of crimson flowing forth from the sighing females form. The man had cut her arm, and she bled as the other figures bowed deeply whilst eagerly moving back and forth on the floor. I heard the sounds of slurping and licking, and the images of the Ghul in that fool scribes book came back to haunt me.
I was stunned. Numb in mind and body, I could barely process the scene before me. I believe I passed out in horror.
I awoke with a start. Noting it to be deep night. All was silent. I peered around the jug with dread, and noted a form laid in the stiffness of death on the altar. I appraoched it after noticing that the room was for the most part empty once more. The body was pale and empty of fluid. I dared not touch it. Yet, the knife lay on top of her breasts, almost alluringly, and I deigned to touch that. I picked it gingerly off of her chest, hefting it and noticing the writing on the blade. I could not make it out very well, and so I looked about for some brighter light from Sin (Translators Note: Sin was the pre-Islamic God of the Moon).
I brought it up to the light shining down from the hole in the ceiling, and I wonder now what I was thinking, to follow that woman, to be here. Perhaps life had gotten to droll. Too ordered and boring.
I studied the carving, deciding to steal the knife for further study after a quiet escape. Yet as I shifted my grip on the pommel, a sharp barb built into its design pricked me deeply. I gasped with pain and surprise, dropping the knife with a thud to the planked floor. The silence had been eerily shattered.
I stood still, hoping not to have aroused the cloaked figures which were surely asleep below. I could probably talk my way out of any theft by way of calling the guard on the corpse before me, whom I could claim to have spied from the street. Yet the sound I was expecting came not from the stairs nearby but from the pallid corpse on the altar. A rustling, raspy sound echoed forth from her dead throat, culling the rest of my courage. The word Ghul and the scared fool scribes face drowned in my mind.
I ran then, fleeing into the night through a window, as I found the door to be locked rather well. I noted with panting breath that it was not as late as I had earlier surmised, and decided to pursue the topic of the kabob once, again, perhaps to cool my nerves and mull over the topic of the murdered woman. Cult or no cult, that is a death sentence in Irem.
The item was rather juicy, lain out lengthwise on a dowel of wood for my enjoyment. Pepper and pork, stemming straight from the wealth-inducing trade we make with our neighbors, delicious. Yet, the meat and pepper would not go down, and I began to choke in my seat rather violently. I supposed the items to be tainted in some way, and made a formal complaint to the acting manager. Rather troubled, I continued along my way back to my apartments near the Palace.
Yet along the way a thirst struck me unlike any I had ever felt before, and as I looked about for a water vendor I began to hear a rhythm. It was a curious, all prevailing sound, and as I put my ear to the ground I could still hear it with the same intensity. As a couple walked past me the sound grew in intensity, and it dawned on me that I heard the beating of the many hearts of the city, alive and fresh and pure.
My mind was foggy and estranged from its normal feeling. I recalled once more that poor scribes face, and the words he spoke I heard once again. The kabob did not work to sate my hunger, would water slake my thirst?
I was a man of logic and pattern, yet I was learned enough to know when a man needs a physician. I started off in the direction of my house first to get some rest.
I never got even halfway. I doubled over in the pain. The heartbeats grew louder and louder and the thrist grew higher and higher. Logic! Reason! Order!
These were the watchwords of the scribe. Attention to details. The barb. The knife. The blood. Oh, the blood!
I understood my dread condition, yet my pacifistic nature overruled the realization of what I may have to do. Why me, why does misfortune befall the Vizier's scribe!
The body was found the next day by the guard, exsanguinated in an alleyway near the kabob house. My thirst was put to rest. Like those figures in the house, I used a weapon for the deed, falling away from the tradition of the flesh eating Ghul's. I could not bring myself to actually bite the flesh of the man I had killed. The knife entered his neck too easily to be real. He must have been an illusion in this horrid nightmare of phantasms. I must still be asleep in my study, yet I am not waking up.
And now I face the thought of how long will I live with this new addition to my life's account. I must do more research. I fear discovery. It is akin to a secret and taboo hobby. Shall I go to those figures in the house? Shall I turn myself over to the executioners block? Shall I wither and die of thirst among the wet ink of a thousand blackened and bloody tomes?!
Perhaps not. But why did I follow that enchanted, doomed woman, that dread mask for what would come! Why did I have to inspect the weapon, why must the scribe's curiosity overtake his conscious fear? I do not know. All is darkness, and I in the darkness I am alone, and the words on the page grow blurry, and I thirst once more for a palate that is dreadful to think on, but needed forevermore.
"I am the Dabbat Al-Ard! Beast of the Earth!
المؤمنين سوف يتدفق لي وأنا ما تتغذى على الدجال الأبد! أنا الموت.
And in peaceful solace shall I find nothingness, as the water of life should grace mine lips at last. So come, darkness triumphant!
-Anonymous
(Translators Note: The preceeding quote is dated to have been written approx. 200 years after the original account.)
Another Dream
I awaken on a cold stone floor, scattering poker chips all around. The room is dark but for a torch upside down set into the ceiling's center. I hear a voice saying "Do not suffer the fool to live", and I notice an open door nearby. The door leads to a long hallway, and at the end is a statue of onyx and crystal depicting Zeus on a throne. There is a flash of light and I awaken.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
More Dreams
I am having recurring dreams of late of which I remember nothing but a single word: Uskul. The dream usually also contains the sound of lapping water.
~
I am a customer in a Babylonian tavern known as "Azif's Hundred Ale Holes", a restaurant with suggestive names of menu items such as a "Nutty Handjob" which is actually roasted chestnuts with sugar. A spiral staircase leads down into the earth with the monotonous whine of flutes in the distance. Every 100 feet down there is a simple wooden door with an Inn or Tavern of some sort on the other side. Notable taverns are "Potigerns Boar Ring", a gladiatorial combat ring run by darkiron intelligent golems, "Azal's Place", a simple temple to Mithra with a nearby weapons shop, and "The Slum Bucket", a watering hole for beggars who are lost. Not every door leads to a tavern, and some lead to blank walls or empty rooms guarded by a Guard as the previous owner could not pay Azif's rent. At the very bottom of the shaft, which is 10,000 feet long, there is a golden archway leading into the bottomost taverm. Known as "Lightbringers Challenge", this lavish tavern is decorated with the architecture of Egypt at the height of its power. Dancers, Sphinx's giving riddles, Jackals selling books and Priest's performing magic adorn the place, where it is said somewhere Azif himself lairs.
~
I am looking at several pencil sketches I remember drawing before, the setting is a street corner in a pre-Crusade city in Arabia. There are several men half hidden in the darkness beyond an arch across the deserted alley across from me, of which I have already pencilled a sketch. Suddenly, I begin packing my tools of art as a line of black robed men begin disrobing in the middle of the alley some way down. They then walk off in thin robes of white, each holding the others shoulders in single file. I am busy packing and when I finally start towards where they were headed they have disappeared in the heat of the far white dunes. I estimate them to be about 15-20 in number. All tanned and dressed in simple white. They wore no footwear.
I remember the heat being all but unbearable and the city very quiet but distantly noisy.
~
I am a customer in a Babylonian tavern known as "Azif's Hundred Ale Holes", a restaurant with suggestive names of menu items such as a "Nutty Handjob" which is actually roasted chestnuts with sugar. A spiral staircase leads down into the earth with the monotonous whine of flutes in the distance. Every 100 feet down there is a simple wooden door with an Inn or Tavern of some sort on the other side. Notable taverns are "Potigerns Boar Ring", a gladiatorial combat ring run by darkiron intelligent golems, "Azal's Place", a simple temple to Mithra with a nearby weapons shop, and "The Slum Bucket", a watering hole for beggars who are lost. Not every door leads to a tavern, and some lead to blank walls or empty rooms guarded by a Guard as the previous owner could not pay Azif's rent. At the very bottom of the shaft, which is 10,000 feet long, there is a golden archway leading into the bottomost taverm. Known as "Lightbringers Challenge", this lavish tavern is decorated with the architecture of Egypt at the height of its power. Dancers, Sphinx's giving riddles, Jackals selling books and Priest's performing magic adorn the place, where it is said somewhere Azif himself lairs.
~
I am looking at several pencil sketches I remember drawing before, the setting is a street corner in a pre-Crusade city in Arabia. There are several men half hidden in the darkness beyond an arch across the deserted alley across from me, of which I have already pencilled a sketch. Suddenly, I begin packing my tools of art as a line of black robed men begin disrobing in the middle of the alley some way down. They then walk off in thin robes of white, each holding the others shoulders in single file. I am busy packing and when I finally start towards where they were headed they have disappeared in the heat of the far white dunes. I estimate them to be about 15-20 in number. All tanned and dressed in simple white. They wore no footwear.
I remember the heat being all but unbearable and the city very quiet but distantly noisy.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Stream of Consciousness Experiement
Estimated Time of Writing: 2 minutes
a blue shining shinto shrine streams of wite theres black coral rocks + limitless infiniti eterniti of mind death is absent cyan liquid fog all around as one sees white light in the gate, and ritual bands inter-twining the gate a man is absent because there is nothing no infiniti of paradisical stories, no poetry, no letters, the ink has been diluted with moisture from the watery depths below.
a blue shining shinto shrine streams of wite theres black coral rocks + limitless infiniti eterniti of mind death is absent cyan liquid fog all around as one sees white light in the gate, and ritual bands inter-twining the gate a man is absent because there is nothing no infiniti of paradisical stories, no poetry, no letters, the ink has been diluted with moisture from the watery depths below.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Frenzied Recordings
The following dreams cling barely to proper sentence structure and seem more to be the unhinged notes of one trying desperately to remember. The following Dreams took place betwixt the dates of the 25th of November 2009 to the 15th of January, 2010.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blue domed (onion domes) arabian-esque palace, 3 domes, 1 large 2 small surrounded by green jungle, island?, fountain of nude female in front of it, hallways cool and dry, strange cobalt-ish blue stone. Light cast by pots and braziers of glowing water. All colors are deep blues and gold. The scene is silent except for the sounds of jungle wildlife in the distance, but inside the palace there is heard the sound of lapping water.
~
Small, square island, walled by red brick wall about 20ft high. Gated with silver portcullis, within there is grass and a small central plaza with a clay pot. Within the pot is a deadly green & blue cobra. no ceiling.
~
Castle of old grey stone built on cliff, gate is sealed but old staircase built into the slope as you near the edge rises up side of castle to a wooden door leading within. Opposite the door, in the distance the grass and treeless plains give way to sudden desert and twin pyramids crouch silently. Often, a tall man dressed in a multitude of belts and red and black garments is either sitting on the steps of the staircase or silently strolling across the plains to the far distant pyramids. The castle is empty but contains old wood interior and a table that was once used for feasts. The sea is always silent and crystal blue and is far from the cliffs edge, a very long drop. The image breaths with life, but whether it is Life current, life once there but now gone or Life to be is unknown. The world feels like there was once something, but now it is empty except for the observer. There is a faint smell of cinnamon.
~
A black room, great wide window on one side looking out on space (stars and asteroids), darkwood desk on far side of room, no doors. Being cloaked in shadow sitting at desk. A water clock sits on the desk. The entity taps it with an impossibly long, black, sharp talon and says "Ah, but my clock runs differently." As I gaze at the water clock I am overcome with a primal terror of something not being right.
~
I am floating above the surface of some far off planet. I am breathing slowly yet steadily. I seem to be encased in some type of silver orb; a cocoon of sorts. I know nothing of my form, yet I feel the whitewashed rocks below me and the chasms in the ground seeks to crystallize my feeling of utter isolation. I feel isolated from anything I had ever known in the waking world, and, glancing about I note multiple orbs of translucent silver somewhat like mine, and the forms in them are inky black, and terrible to behold.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blue domed (onion domes) arabian-esque palace, 3 domes, 1 large 2 small surrounded by green jungle, island?, fountain of nude female in front of it, hallways cool and dry, strange cobalt-ish blue stone. Light cast by pots and braziers of glowing water. All colors are deep blues and gold. The scene is silent except for the sounds of jungle wildlife in the distance, but inside the palace there is heard the sound of lapping water.
~
Small, square island, walled by red brick wall about 20ft high. Gated with silver portcullis, within there is grass and a small central plaza with a clay pot. Within the pot is a deadly green & blue cobra. no ceiling.
~
Castle of old grey stone built on cliff, gate is sealed but old staircase built into the slope as you near the edge rises up side of castle to a wooden door leading within. Opposite the door, in the distance the grass and treeless plains give way to sudden desert and twin pyramids crouch silently. Often, a tall man dressed in a multitude of belts and red and black garments is either sitting on the steps of the staircase or silently strolling across the plains to the far distant pyramids. The castle is empty but contains old wood interior and a table that was once used for feasts. The sea is always silent and crystal blue and is far from the cliffs edge, a very long drop. The image breaths with life, but whether it is Life current, life once there but now gone or Life to be is unknown. The world feels like there was once something, but now it is empty except for the observer. There is a faint smell of cinnamon.
~
A black room, great wide window on one side looking out on space (stars and asteroids), darkwood desk on far side of room, no doors. Being cloaked in shadow sitting at desk. A water clock sits on the desk. The entity taps it with an impossibly long, black, sharp talon and says "Ah, but my clock runs differently." As I gaze at the water clock I am overcome with a primal terror of something not being right.
~
I am floating above the surface of some far off planet. I am breathing slowly yet steadily. I seem to be encased in some type of silver orb; a cocoon of sorts. I know nothing of my form, yet I feel the whitewashed rocks below me and the chasms in the ground seeks to crystallize my feeling of utter isolation. I feel isolated from anything I had ever known in the waking world, and, glancing about I note multiple orbs of translucent silver somewhat like mine, and the forms in them are inky black, and terrible to behold.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Tsunami: Experimental Prose
The following was recently written to see how I did in a Science-Fiction-esque genre. Enjoy.
Also, +This is a thought thought by a character.+
-----------------------------------------
"All hands to Ensiro Deck!", yelled Captain Haraguka, straining against the Kisaro Drive's Warp tearing effect.
All about them, as it could be seen from the bridge's viewscreen at least, Lokipharo Gunships were roaring shells of fire and hate into the Tsunami, the greatest research ship in Law Space.
+We're just a research vessel, we're unimportant, why attack us.+
+Why die here?+
The last thought came unbidden to Haraguka's mind, forced into his cerebellum with a whip of psykik force.
+Release me. They will perish.+
"Captain! We can't hold out much longer!", Ensign Sashara shrieked into her commbead.
Indeed, the damage controllers were showing a dreadful symphony of red and black, death and loss. Research gone. Souls taken. All because of Him. It.
The stars shown brighter, colors deepened, light died.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++=
Captain Haraguka strode diligently down the aft research corridors of the Tsunami, greatest Deep Space Research Vessel that Law Space had ever known. Led by Takigoro Haraguka, a top tier Lamano Regime Scientist, he and his team of 20 were to conduct Deep Space tests of the experiemental Kiasaro Warp Drive.
"It folds space behind it as it moves, then tears it and flings it away, propelling the craft even further as a void expands behind it.", Sashara told him matter-of-factly.
She walked beside him always, a kind of apprentice to his doings about the ship. It was clear she had a crush, of sorts, on the rugged Haraguka, wild black beard and hair spilling down the back of his blue and white lab coat. Her sanguine face, framed with a slash of blonde hair, unusual for a female from Okinaga, peered up at his from time to time, yet their eyes never met.
Chatter went on. She was very professional in all of her dealings, whetherscientific or personal. She was untouchable, anti-social perhaps, yet the emotion was still there.
Tor-Master Ologi's room went by, and Haraguka and Sashara stopped on their way to the Milaro Lab to hear some of Ologi's teachings, brought to his students in far Erth via Ultra-Long-Distance-Satellite.
"Yet this is not for long my young ones, as we must always remember the Law of Force Equalization. This force shall fall, say on the hamburger on my desk, and it shall exert a force upon the hamburger and the hamburger on itself. They shall "hit" each other in a way, and in doing so...", Ologi's booming voice trailed off, his skill with food equal to his skill at cooking, he somehow always let in leak into all of his lectures, to the annoyment of all. Except the children perhaps.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Silence.
That was a rare thing in Space.
Everyone slept. Everyone but Asako, the Radioman. He was awake. He listened.
Silence within and silence without. It was calming...and frightening.
No shouts or chatter from commercial spacecraft. No pressurization alarms. No shots of fury and rebellion. Nothing. Void. Eternal Silence.
The silence was putting Asako to sleep. Drifting into the courts of dream...he heard it. A whisper of sound. A chirp of an ethereal bird. A dagger to break the silence. He listened again, screwing up the Volumator for another now anticipated call.
Nothing. Nothing at all. It was just imagined.
Silence once more.
Then, once more the bird returned. A whispering chirp. There. Asako grinned with both excitement and irrational fear as he screwed in the signal on the Spanner. It was quick now. Asako's heart beat with excitement as his dyed blonde and black locks fell over his eyes. He began recording as he raced out of the room, raced out to tell the Captain of the ethereal news. To tell him of the sound.
He didn't listen further. He ran. The recorder readied a tape for writing. If only he had listened longer.
Perhaps then he would have heard the screams.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++==
"Hull fracture, 10 marks in. Judging by the pattern, I'd say some sort of Plasma cutter.", Hakagura remarked into his Spacewalk suit for analysis back on the bridge.
As captain, it was his job and duty to go first on all matters of security. If he was to somehow perish, leadership would fall to Lieutenant Garo, a Marine stationed on the ship as guard, and a full report and questioning would have to be made of the incident.
As it stood, the chirp Asako heard was a distress beacon. It came from a black ship drifting lifeless in space. Life-support was down. There was no insignia, no hull markings. Haraguka carried his Plas-Cutter and G108 Chargepistol, loaded with shells of nonlethal electricity. Even as a Scientist, he had made a silent vow to himself that he would not kill.
+Maybe I should recant that. Heh. Didn't I make it in the first place for Sashara's sake?+
The emotion was in him as well. Yet they were professional in all things. Always.
+The ship doesn't need a scandal.+
The main door bolts came off quite easily. The outer seal was broken, meaning airless void existed both in and out of the ship. Nothing unprotected could survive.
Dark liquid filtered out of the small black ship. Dead drops of water, black with silence.
+Oil? Can't be, these things run on Electus Impulse.+
Haraguka stepped into the main cabin. It was small. No bigger than a simple Orbital officer transport. The cockpit door was closed.
Sound. The lack of it shocked Haraguka. Had his commbead malfunctioned? Silence.
A shape. Human. Cloaked in white, masked in pink, it moved with the rhythym of life. Life. It floated quietly on its back, inches from the steel floor.
Haraguka drifted over to the breathing form, prying for a closer look. Within the glass face mask he say naught but electric pink. Opaque in stunning color. Yet still the form moved.
The oil was all about him now. This strange substance...perhaps a biological function? Bio-drives were very common in the Lawless sectors. But where is the crew?
Haraguka glanced at the cockpit again. It was sealed. And with the damage the ship had sustained-where and how did it sustain it?- the cockpit would take a very long time to open.
Best he salvage what he could.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Subject is human male, 6 foot 10, 192 pounds, pale complexion, genes show French background with unknown variable G's. Subject has sustained a concussion and has signifigant scarring of the central left hemisphere of the Brain and Cerebellum. Subject's Corpus Callosum seems to have been cut, purpose unknown. Subject has been in a state of advanced coma for 28 hours so far. Heart rate is abnormally low and system is still attempting to find a genetic match.", Sashara finished as Doctor Ishikuro finished his examination.
She clicked off the recorder, looking down at the still, pale form. Bound with leather restraints he was to the metal table. He hadn't moved since Haraguka had brought him on board, questioning Asako extensively about "radio silence".
Yet Sashara still gazed at the man. Still.
+We don't even know what he's like. His personality, his ideas. All a mystery.+
The enigma of coma still cloaked the white shrouded man as Sashara left the room.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+Light.+
The lights in the Medical Bay turned on with a soundless click.
+++
+Release Me. They will perish.+
+++
Leather bands reinforced with spider silk filaments bound the still form of Sonir Le'Zatz, PN105881961. A prisoner here as much as the ship of the bounty hunters.
+Dark.+
The lights in the Medical Bay dimmed to nothing with a soundless echo.
He breathed out. He breathed in. Air. Something new. Fresh air.
+Break.+
500,000 pound tensile strength Micro-filament wires bound in snakeskin leather sleeves and Mono-tarda juice cloaks snapped in the space of a second.
Sonir rose then. He sent his mind out to the far corners of the ship. Seeking toys, seeking tools.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Always professional.
That was Sashara's mindset. Advancement in all things comes from Professional decency. Her father had taught that in full back home on Erth, as had her mother before she died.
She had called Haraguka to her room with a request for his prescense and advisement on several documents relating to the Kisaro Drive's tests later that day. Always Professional.
Still, she could not lie and not realize that her heart fluttered when she saw his regal form frame the threshold of her room. Professional.
"You needed help with the Drive Testers?", he asked, seeming as if this was but a minor stop on his way elsewhere.
She gave a quick nod and grabbed a sheaf of papers off her Pilo-Desk, the hovering supports rebalancing the weight change to a more comfortable level for her height.
"Yes, the Kisaro Drive testers seem to be inaccurate, I'm getting multiple S100 errors on the lower shafts. The stress is too great for us to just test this with a 5 oh 5er. What do you propse we change?" she said with a questioning curl of her eyebrow.
That was strange. Not the testers. They both felt it though. A wave of energy passed through them. Emotion surfaced.
"S100...lower shaft...", Haraguka surmised as he took a seat next to Sashara on her Pilo-bed.
"We could change the drive Moles. That would help balance the stress of...", she trailed off, suddenly dizzy with emotion.
Their eyes locked then. Her pools of hypothermic blue and his summer shades of green. Beautiful.
Head Ensign Sashara let the sheaf of Kisaro drive reports fall to the floor as they embraced. A kiss, opening the floodgates for their love.
Their clothes couldn't seem to come off fast enough, their bottles of buried love rising to a drunken brim as they embraced and made love.
They made love to a silent chorus of agony. They made unknowing of the conductor. They consumated their journey's end.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Sterile Metal. Now dirtied. It drifted in the air, glittering amongst a swarm of red.
Sonir Le'Zatz drifted by the lifeless Tor-Master.
It was exhilirating.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Tor-Master Ologi's body drifted silently behind the Null-Steel glass of his lecture room. The still form of Sonir Le'Zatz still lay upon the Iron Medical Bay table.
"Who...why...", Sashara whispered to the air, standing as perplexed and shocked as the rest of the crew.
+Release me.+
A echo of sound drifted by.
Captain Haraguka peered forward, noticing the security Null-Shields that had been activated with Ologi's death. Nothing could get in. Nothing could get out...without his express permission. No one knew the Null codes except Haraguka.
None but he could be trusted with that power.
"Perhaps we are haunted?", Asako piped up, instantly embarassed by the shocked stares he received.
"No...this is no ghost. We are plagued with a murderer. I want security doubled on the Medical Bay."
"He was just a...just a...", Sashara whispered, on the verge of tears.
Haraguka held her close, their aura of professionalism drooping as more than a few eyes noted their proximity. Their crush was wheat for the rumour mill, and this would only heighten the gossip.
"Garo, we make to Mokono Station. 3 Days, all hands confined to your rooms. Now.", Haraguka growled out, true anger showing for the barest of moments.
+Perish.+
A whisper of sound. Unheard by all.
As the crew dispersed, not a one noticed the form of Sonir Le'Zatz, standing just beyond the glass. Staring.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Light died.
"Full control Garo, I need full control!", Haraguka bellowed at the top of his lungs.
+Release ME. They WILL perish.+
"You heard him! Asako, help me with the gear!"
Two twin shocks of vaporized air roared past the Tsunami. They were in dire straits.
Release him. No. No?
Oblivion faced them. Desperation surfaced.
Haraguka trembled visibly as he entered the Null codes. Light died...and was reborn.
"Kisaro Drives Activated.", the mechanical AI of the Tsunami announced.
+They will perish.+
Silence.
+Sashara, I lose you now.+
+Haraguka, I...+
+THEY WILL ALL PERISH!+
Death. Destruction. Apocalypse. Oblivion.
Nothing could describe the song of Sonir Le'Zatz. A violent upheavel of negation. Man fails. Metal fails. Nothing stands up to the unchained beast of the psykik.
"Main Stress Tensor Overload."
+The S100's...+
+What would YOU rather have...OBLIVION...OR LOVE?+
I had never known love. I kill them all. I am nothing. And I will live on.
Negation. Emotional overflow. Stress Overload.
Nothing remained but the white ghost of Tsunami.
Oblivion.
Herald of the Eternal Heart, no thing remained.
Naught but twin specks of black, dark, dust.
Also, +This is a thought thought by a character.+
-----------------------------------------
"All hands to Ensiro Deck!", yelled Captain Haraguka, straining against the Kisaro Drive's Warp tearing effect.
All about them, as it could be seen from the bridge's viewscreen at least, Lokipharo Gunships were roaring shells of fire and hate into the Tsunami, the greatest research ship in Law Space.
+We're just a research vessel, we're unimportant, why attack us.+
+Why die here?+
The last thought came unbidden to Haraguka's mind, forced into his cerebellum with a whip of psykik force.
+Release me. They will perish.+
"Captain! We can't hold out much longer!", Ensign Sashara shrieked into her commbead.
Indeed, the damage controllers were showing a dreadful symphony of red and black, death and loss. Research gone. Souls taken. All because of Him. It.
The stars shown brighter, colors deepened, light died.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++=
Captain Haraguka strode diligently down the aft research corridors of the Tsunami, greatest Deep Space Research Vessel that Law Space had ever known. Led by Takigoro Haraguka, a top tier Lamano Regime Scientist, he and his team of 20 were to conduct Deep Space tests of the experiemental Kiasaro Warp Drive.
"It folds space behind it as it moves, then tears it and flings it away, propelling the craft even further as a void expands behind it.", Sashara told him matter-of-factly.
She walked beside him always, a kind of apprentice to his doings about the ship. It was clear she had a crush, of sorts, on the rugged Haraguka, wild black beard and hair spilling down the back of his blue and white lab coat. Her sanguine face, framed with a slash of blonde hair, unusual for a female from Okinaga, peered up at his from time to time, yet their eyes never met.
Chatter went on. She was very professional in all of her dealings, whetherscientific or personal. She was untouchable, anti-social perhaps, yet the emotion was still there.
Tor-Master Ologi's room went by, and Haraguka and Sashara stopped on their way to the Milaro Lab to hear some of Ologi's teachings, brought to his students in far Erth via Ultra-Long-Distance-Satellite.
"Yet this is not for long my young ones, as we must always remember the Law of Force Equalization. This force shall fall, say on the hamburger on my desk, and it shall exert a force upon the hamburger and the hamburger on itself. They shall "hit" each other in a way, and in doing so...", Ologi's booming voice trailed off, his skill with food equal to his skill at cooking, he somehow always let in leak into all of his lectures, to the annoyment of all. Except the children perhaps.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Silence.
That was a rare thing in Space.
Everyone slept. Everyone but Asako, the Radioman. He was awake. He listened.
Silence within and silence without. It was calming...and frightening.
No shouts or chatter from commercial spacecraft. No pressurization alarms. No shots of fury and rebellion. Nothing. Void. Eternal Silence.
The silence was putting Asako to sleep. Drifting into the courts of dream...he heard it. A whisper of sound. A chirp of an ethereal bird. A dagger to break the silence. He listened again, screwing up the Volumator for another now anticipated call.
Nothing. Nothing at all. It was just imagined.
Silence once more.
Then, once more the bird returned. A whispering chirp. There. Asako grinned with both excitement and irrational fear as he screwed in the signal on the Spanner. It was quick now. Asako's heart beat with excitement as his dyed blonde and black locks fell over his eyes. He began recording as he raced out of the room, raced out to tell the Captain of the ethereal news. To tell him of the sound.
He didn't listen further. He ran. The recorder readied a tape for writing. If only he had listened longer.
Perhaps then he would have heard the screams.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++==
"Hull fracture, 10 marks in. Judging by the pattern, I'd say some sort of Plasma cutter.", Hakagura remarked into his Spacewalk suit for analysis back on the bridge.
As captain, it was his job and duty to go first on all matters of security. If he was to somehow perish, leadership would fall to Lieutenant Garo, a Marine stationed on the ship as guard, and a full report and questioning would have to be made of the incident.
As it stood, the chirp Asako heard was a distress beacon. It came from a black ship drifting lifeless in space. Life-support was down. There was no insignia, no hull markings. Haraguka carried his Plas-Cutter and G108 Chargepistol, loaded with shells of nonlethal electricity. Even as a Scientist, he had made a silent vow to himself that he would not kill.
+Maybe I should recant that. Heh. Didn't I make it in the first place for Sashara's sake?+
The emotion was in him as well. Yet they were professional in all things. Always.
+The ship doesn't need a scandal.+
The main door bolts came off quite easily. The outer seal was broken, meaning airless void existed both in and out of the ship. Nothing unprotected could survive.
Dark liquid filtered out of the small black ship. Dead drops of water, black with silence.
+Oil? Can't be, these things run on Electus Impulse.+
Haraguka stepped into the main cabin. It was small. No bigger than a simple Orbital officer transport. The cockpit door was closed.
Sound. The lack of it shocked Haraguka. Had his commbead malfunctioned? Silence.
A shape. Human. Cloaked in white, masked in pink, it moved with the rhythym of life. Life. It floated quietly on its back, inches from the steel floor.
Haraguka drifted over to the breathing form, prying for a closer look. Within the glass face mask he say naught but electric pink. Opaque in stunning color. Yet still the form moved.
The oil was all about him now. This strange substance...perhaps a biological function? Bio-drives were very common in the Lawless sectors. But where is the crew?
Haraguka glanced at the cockpit again. It was sealed. And with the damage the ship had sustained-where and how did it sustain it?- the cockpit would take a very long time to open.
Best he salvage what he could.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Subject is human male, 6 foot 10, 192 pounds, pale complexion, genes show French background with unknown variable G's. Subject has sustained a concussion and has signifigant scarring of the central left hemisphere of the Brain and Cerebellum. Subject's Corpus Callosum seems to have been cut, purpose unknown. Subject has been in a state of advanced coma for 28 hours so far. Heart rate is abnormally low and system is still attempting to find a genetic match.", Sashara finished as Doctor Ishikuro finished his examination.
She clicked off the recorder, looking down at the still, pale form. Bound with leather restraints he was to the metal table. He hadn't moved since Haraguka had brought him on board, questioning Asako extensively about "radio silence".
Yet Sashara still gazed at the man. Still.
+We don't even know what he's like. His personality, his ideas. All a mystery.+
The enigma of coma still cloaked the white shrouded man as Sashara left the room.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+Light.+
The lights in the Medical Bay turned on with a soundless click.
+++
+Release Me. They will perish.+
+++
Leather bands reinforced with spider silk filaments bound the still form of Sonir Le'Zatz, PN105881961. A prisoner here as much as the ship of the bounty hunters.
+Dark.+
The lights in the Medical Bay dimmed to nothing with a soundless echo.
He breathed out. He breathed in. Air. Something new. Fresh air.
+Break.+
500,000 pound tensile strength Micro-filament wires bound in snakeskin leather sleeves and Mono-tarda juice cloaks snapped in the space of a second.
Sonir rose then. He sent his mind out to the far corners of the ship. Seeking toys, seeking tools.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Always professional.
That was Sashara's mindset. Advancement in all things comes from Professional decency. Her father had taught that in full back home on Erth, as had her mother before she died.
She had called Haraguka to her room with a request for his prescense and advisement on several documents relating to the Kisaro Drive's tests later that day. Always Professional.
Still, she could not lie and not realize that her heart fluttered when she saw his regal form frame the threshold of her room. Professional.
"You needed help with the Drive Testers?", he asked, seeming as if this was but a minor stop on his way elsewhere.
She gave a quick nod and grabbed a sheaf of papers off her Pilo-Desk, the hovering supports rebalancing the weight change to a more comfortable level for her height.
"Yes, the Kisaro Drive testers seem to be inaccurate, I'm getting multiple S100 errors on the lower shafts. The stress is too great for us to just test this with a 5 oh 5er. What do you propse we change?" she said with a questioning curl of her eyebrow.
That was strange. Not the testers. They both felt it though. A wave of energy passed through them. Emotion surfaced.
"S100...lower shaft...", Haraguka surmised as he took a seat next to Sashara on her Pilo-bed.
"We could change the drive Moles. That would help balance the stress of...", she trailed off, suddenly dizzy with emotion.
Their eyes locked then. Her pools of hypothermic blue and his summer shades of green. Beautiful.
Head Ensign Sashara let the sheaf of Kisaro drive reports fall to the floor as they embraced. A kiss, opening the floodgates for their love.
Their clothes couldn't seem to come off fast enough, their bottles of buried love rising to a drunken brim as they embraced and made love.
They made love to a silent chorus of agony. They made unknowing of the conductor. They consumated their journey's end.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Sterile Metal. Now dirtied. It drifted in the air, glittering amongst a swarm of red.
Sonir Le'Zatz drifted by the lifeless Tor-Master.
It was exhilirating.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Tor-Master Ologi's body drifted silently behind the Null-Steel glass of his lecture room. The still form of Sonir Le'Zatz still lay upon the Iron Medical Bay table.
"Who...why...", Sashara whispered to the air, standing as perplexed and shocked as the rest of the crew.
+Release me.+
A echo of sound drifted by.
Captain Haraguka peered forward, noticing the security Null-Shields that had been activated with Ologi's death. Nothing could get in. Nothing could get out...without his express permission. No one knew the Null codes except Haraguka.
None but he could be trusted with that power.
"Perhaps we are haunted?", Asako piped up, instantly embarassed by the shocked stares he received.
"No...this is no ghost. We are plagued with a murderer. I want security doubled on the Medical Bay."
"He was just a...just a...", Sashara whispered, on the verge of tears.
Haraguka held her close, their aura of professionalism drooping as more than a few eyes noted their proximity. Their crush was wheat for the rumour mill, and this would only heighten the gossip.
"Garo, we make to Mokono Station. 3 Days, all hands confined to your rooms. Now.", Haraguka growled out, true anger showing for the barest of moments.
+Perish.+
A whisper of sound. Unheard by all.
As the crew dispersed, not a one noticed the form of Sonir Le'Zatz, standing just beyond the glass. Staring.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Light died.
"Full control Garo, I need full control!", Haraguka bellowed at the top of his lungs.
+Release ME. They WILL perish.+
"You heard him! Asako, help me with the gear!"
Two twin shocks of vaporized air roared past the Tsunami. They were in dire straits.
Release him. No. No?
Oblivion faced them. Desperation surfaced.
Haraguka trembled visibly as he entered the Null codes. Light died...and was reborn.
"Kisaro Drives Activated.", the mechanical AI of the Tsunami announced.
+They will perish.+
Silence.
+Sashara, I lose you now.+
+Haraguka, I...+
+THEY WILL ALL PERISH!+
Death. Destruction. Apocalypse. Oblivion.
Nothing could describe the song of Sonir Le'Zatz. A violent upheavel of negation. Man fails. Metal fails. Nothing stands up to the unchained beast of the psykik.
"Main Stress Tensor Overload."
+The S100's...+
+What would YOU rather have...OBLIVION...OR LOVE?+
I had never known love. I kill them all. I am nothing. And I will live on.
Negation. Emotional overflow. Stress Overload.
Nothing remained but the white ghost of Tsunami.
Oblivion.
Herald of the Eternal Heart, no thing remained.
Naught but twin specks of black, dark, dust.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
For a time, at least until the practice bores me, I shall attempt to keep up with posting a regular attempt at the recording of my dreams. I warn you reader, in the great dismal delves of the mind everything is laid bare.
~ The night of Monday, January 18th, 2010 ~
I am a servant of sorts to a seemingly wealthy nobleman who has captured a device for the instantaneous travel of multiple persons, on which trip he brings myself, his wife, his concubine, and his bodyguard / 2nd servant, a pale, raven haired beauty named Tear, by her own explanation a lowly shin-girl from the north, a gladiator slave of sorts. After landing in a ruined grotto of sorts, Augustus (the nobleman), his wife and I are set upon by a creature of greater than animal intelligence yet animalistic fury, sheathed in a seemingly impenetrable skin of grey stone. It knocks Augustus out and bites into the neck of his wife with relish, seeming to draw out her bodily fluids. I am overcome by a chorus of voices, and I feel the world grow dark as I launch at this thing as a shadow of fury.
We battle, seemingly evenly matched, whilst unbeknownst to me a smaller creature of stone steals into the ship we arrived in, a green striated with blue thing of curved and long smooth design, and steals away the unconscious figures of Tear and Augustus' concubine. I scream for Tear to wake up, noticing that she was without armor or greatsword, and remembering then that she had taken ill on the journey. This momentary distraction allows my opponent to try his teeth on my flesh, whereupon I reply in turn, opening his tough flesh with my incisors. He seems stunned, and retreats thereupon, and as the world grows even darker I stumble about and fall to the realm of sleep.
I awaken with a start, no longer cloaked in shadow. And with a start remember all that has happened. The nobleman did not concern me, yet Tear, the only other living being who shared my secret of dark fury, had been taken. I began a search of the ruins, locating a half-ruined castle with sounds of music not far away. Beginning the steep ascent up the bestoned and ruined incline, I noticed broken columns and pillars not unlike those of the white city of the aslarmoshad. Mounting the half-collapsed structure at long last, I began to slowly climp up the ruined yet somewhat stable face to the open aired second floor. What awaited me was a scene of horror. Through half open double doors of golden steel was a regal table bequeathed with all sorts of finery and elegance. Sitting at that table were all who had been lately captured, plus one rather stunted, dwarf-like figure, slowly eyeing each of the seemingly paralyzed victims in turn, all dressed in some type of aged gown or suit of pale silk. Seated the head of the table was a creature of great age yet also great power. Blood oozing from a marr in the perfect flesh of his cheek, he stared longingly at each of the females in turn.
Suddenly rising from his half-finished meal, he slowly strode towards each of them, taking a seemingly brief whiff of their scent. He stopped momentarily at Tear, as she stared straight ahead, and whispered something under his breath. He stopped suddenly at Augusts' wife, and noticing something of her midsection, clapped his hands together as a wine merchant would at seeing an extremely rare and aged bottle. He slowly bent over this one and began to move lovingly over her neck. His dwarflike companion gave a squeal of delight as a dark liquid began to run down them both onto the tiled floor. Suddenly gliding away from his act, he swept towards Tear, staring ahead as the bloody wreck of Augustus' wife crumpled to the floor.
I could bear the sight no longer, and springing up from my perch, I swept towards the doorway, wrenching from my throat the name of her, Tear. The old monster snarled at my audacity, and smiling a hidden smile, stared ahead at my approaching form and bent down to watch as I watched him drain the life from Tear. Yet this was not to be so, as a fork of pale steel came up to meet the old monsters throat, grasped firmly in Tears' hand. She sprang away from the beast, tearing off what she could of her flimsy gown so as not to further hinder her movement.
I rushed past her, and pushing her aside I charged into the monsters face with blades drawn, his eyes being locked on Tear. Both blades sank deep within his neck, drawing a veritable fountain of blood forth as he slowly sank to the floor, his features becoming stony and hard, yet this great defense of his coming too late. The dwarf-like creature cried out then, grasping his head in dirty claws, he cried out in unknowable pain as his backbone snapped loudly and he ceased to move. We quickly untied Augustus and his concubine, and slinging each over our shoulders, made our way down the ruined staircase to the incline, down to the ship and into their berths, to better recuperate. Before setting them down, we checked each for any wounds or marks of attack, noting only the bruises on their heads, indicative of their unconscious state, somehow possibly worsened by the spell the monster had put over them. As we finished our inspection and closed and secured the hatch to the ship, we inspected each other for wounds, of which a many I had sustained unknowingly in my duel with the monster.
~ The night of Monday, January 18th, 2010 ~
I am a servant of sorts to a seemingly wealthy nobleman who has captured a device for the instantaneous travel of multiple persons, on which trip he brings myself, his wife, his concubine, and his bodyguard / 2nd servant, a pale, raven haired beauty named Tear, by her own explanation a lowly shin-girl from the north, a gladiator slave of sorts. After landing in a ruined grotto of sorts, Augustus (the nobleman), his wife and I are set upon by a creature of greater than animal intelligence yet animalistic fury, sheathed in a seemingly impenetrable skin of grey stone. It knocks Augustus out and bites into the neck of his wife with relish, seeming to draw out her bodily fluids. I am overcome by a chorus of voices, and I feel the world grow dark as I launch at this thing as a shadow of fury.
We battle, seemingly evenly matched, whilst unbeknownst to me a smaller creature of stone steals into the ship we arrived in, a green striated with blue thing of curved and long smooth design, and steals away the unconscious figures of Tear and Augustus' concubine. I scream for Tear to wake up, noticing that she was without armor or greatsword, and remembering then that she had taken ill on the journey. This momentary distraction allows my opponent to try his teeth on my flesh, whereupon I reply in turn, opening his tough flesh with my incisors. He seems stunned, and retreats thereupon, and as the world grows even darker I stumble about and fall to the realm of sleep.
I awaken with a start, no longer cloaked in shadow. And with a start remember all that has happened. The nobleman did not concern me, yet Tear, the only other living being who shared my secret of dark fury, had been taken. I began a search of the ruins, locating a half-ruined castle with sounds of music not far away. Beginning the steep ascent up the bestoned and ruined incline, I noticed broken columns and pillars not unlike those of the white city of the aslarmoshad. Mounting the half-collapsed structure at long last, I began to slowly climp up the ruined yet somewhat stable face to the open aired second floor. What awaited me was a scene of horror. Through half open double doors of golden steel was a regal table bequeathed with all sorts of finery and elegance. Sitting at that table were all who had been lately captured, plus one rather stunted, dwarf-like figure, slowly eyeing each of the seemingly paralyzed victims in turn, all dressed in some type of aged gown or suit of pale silk. Seated the head of the table was a creature of great age yet also great power. Blood oozing from a marr in the perfect flesh of his cheek, he stared longingly at each of the females in turn.
Suddenly rising from his half-finished meal, he slowly strode towards each of them, taking a seemingly brief whiff of their scent. He stopped momentarily at Tear, as she stared straight ahead, and whispered something under his breath. He stopped suddenly at Augusts' wife, and noticing something of her midsection, clapped his hands together as a wine merchant would at seeing an extremely rare and aged bottle. He slowly bent over this one and began to move lovingly over her neck. His dwarflike companion gave a squeal of delight as a dark liquid began to run down them both onto the tiled floor. Suddenly gliding away from his act, he swept towards Tear, staring ahead as the bloody wreck of Augustus' wife crumpled to the floor.
I could bear the sight no longer, and springing up from my perch, I swept towards the doorway, wrenching from my throat the name of her, Tear. The old monster snarled at my audacity, and smiling a hidden smile, stared ahead at my approaching form and bent down to watch as I watched him drain the life from Tear. Yet this was not to be so, as a fork of pale steel came up to meet the old monsters throat, grasped firmly in Tears' hand. She sprang away from the beast, tearing off what she could of her flimsy gown so as not to further hinder her movement.
I rushed past her, and pushing her aside I charged into the monsters face with blades drawn, his eyes being locked on Tear. Both blades sank deep within his neck, drawing a veritable fountain of blood forth as he slowly sank to the floor, his features becoming stony and hard, yet this great defense of his coming too late. The dwarf-like creature cried out then, grasping his head in dirty claws, he cried out in unknowable pain as his backbone snapped loudly and he ceased to move. We quickly untied Augustus and his concubine, and slinging each over our shoulders, made our way down the ruined staircase to the incline, down to the ship and into their berths, to better recuperate. Before setting them down, we checked each for any wounds or marks of attack, noting only the bruises on their heads, indicative of their unconscious state, somehow possibly worsened by the spell the monster had put over them. As we finished our inspection and closed and secured the hatch to the ship, we inspected each other for wounds, of which a many I had sustained unknowingly in my duel with the monster.
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