He did have to acknowledge, however, that this forest was no normal place. He’d visited many times before, and during each venture, it felt quite different from the last.
This forest... it was more alive than most. He’d come to believe that perhaps it really did have a will of its own, as the Dulvani claimed. Perhaps Jaskadan was a slumbering giant, and tearing through it like he and the Mendocava had been doing was going to wake it up.
He hoped so. It would certainly clear a few things up. And maybe this giant could answer a few questions, if it harbored any sort of communicable intellect.
In any case, the fact that the Mendocava had retreated here was interesting. As far as was known before, they had no connection to this place. The Gettira Plains, sure. That was the site of a great battle, one that had decided the fate of four civilizations of the ancient world. The Arakonyc, or Great Apocalypse, was its historical name.
While the true origins of the Mendocava were still disputed, it was now his view that they were enthralled as a result of that conflict. Instead of dying, a puppet master had enslaved them--or what remained of them, at least.
But if they saw Jaskadan as a place of refuge, then perhaps their master was here. Or perhaps... hmm.
He recalled a tale of this forest, one he’d heard when he was just a simple lad with nothing more to his name than the ragged tunic on his back and the treasured buskins on his feet.
He remembered it because it was the tale of a fallen star.
One quiet night, when there was no moon to be seen, a brilliant light fell from the heavens and landed in the heart of a budding forest. A man called Skapa saw it from afar. Being unable to resist its radiant allure, he ventured into the forest to find it.
As he trekked through the forest, however, he saw it growing and changing all around him. Where before it had seemed a small, quaint place, it became a dense, labyrinthine maze full of wondrous colors and sights that he could not describe.
Little creatures began to appear before him. Wisps or fairies, perhaps. And they began asking him questions, wanting to know all about him, who he was and why he had come.
A dark serial novel. Set in a modern fantasy world called Eleg. Mature language. Updates every night at midnight PST by ~400 words.
Friday, June 30, 2023
Thursday, June 29, 2023
Page 3351
Part of him wanted to summon those old feelings again. There was something both freeing and invigorating in them. And they were still there, too. He could feel them in the back of his mind, daring him to indulge.
Seeing Ariah again, now of all times--what if it wasn’t a coincidence? What if it really was a herald of the gods? Now could be another turning point, a time to take bold action. Certainly, this little war of the idiots had set a rather tempting foundation.
He had of course sent many men to join in the fighting, in part because he knew what an obnoxious fuss they would make if he tried to forbid them. They would’ve whined incessantly or simply snuck off to join, anyway.
But no. Those feelings were wrong. The gods were wrong. Even if Ariah really was a herald of their will, it didn’t matter.
Only the Void’s will mattered.
He’d known that back then, too--or thought he did, at least--but it had been so easy to stray. To get distracted. To become obsessed with other avenues of power.
Illusions, all.
Finally, after all these years, he felt more certain of his conviction than ever. No more wavering. No more humoring of morons.
This war would fade, like any other. He had no reason to involve himself or any more of his resources in it.
Unless, perhaps, Morgunov fell low enough to come begging him for help. That would be something to see.
Regardless, here on the other side of the world, he already had plenty of things to keep him busy.
The Mendocava were not in this place without cause. It was not an accident that his men had stumbled upon them in the Gettira Plains, nor was it a coincidence that the fighting had been carried all the way into the Jaskadan Forest.
This forest was as ancient as they came. Some academics even argued that this location might’ve been the true cradle of life for humanity, the place where they had evolved from mere apes into the much more deadly creatures that eventually went on to conquer most of the planet.
He didn’t know if he believed that. The region of the Aruna River in central Ardora was the more traditionally recognized location for that theory, and Dozer was not like Morgunov. He did not buy into new academic ideas easily.
Seeing Ariah again, now of all times--what if it wasn’t a coincidence? What if it really was a herald of the gods? Now could be another turning point, a time to take bold action. Certainly, this little war of the idiots had set a rather tempting foundation.
He had of course sent many men to join in the fighting, in part because he knew what an obnoxious fuss they would make if he tried to forbid them. They would’ve whined incessantly or simply snuck off to join, anyway.
But no. Those feelings were wrong. The gods were wrong. Even if Ariah really was a herald of their will, it didn’t matter.
Only the Void’s will mattered.
He’d known that back then, too--or thought he did, at least--but it had been so easy to stray. To get distracted. To become obsessed with other avenues of power.
Illusions, all.
Finally, after all these years, he felt more certain of his conviction than ever. No more wavering. No more humoring of morons.
This war would fade, like any other. He had no reason to involve himself or any more of his resources in it.
Unless, perhaps, Morgunov fell low enough to come begging him for help. That would be something to see.
Regardless, here on the other side of the world, he already had plenty of things to keep him busy.
The Mendocava were not in this place without cause. It was not an accident that his men had stumbled upon them in the Gettira Plains, nor was it a coincidence that the fighting had been carried all the way into the Jaskadan Forest.
This forest was as ancient as they came. Some academics even argued that this location might’ve been the true cradle of life for humanity, the place where they had evolved from mere apes into the much more deadly creatures that eventually went on to conquer most of the planet.
He didn’t know if he believed that. The region of the Aruna River in central Ardora was the more traditionally recognized location for that theory, and Dozer was not like Morgunov. He did not buy into new academic ideas easily.
Wednesday, June 28, 2023
Page 3350
Even after all these years, he could still look up and feel this same sense of awe. He didn’t like to let the men see him like this, but in these silent moments of solitude, when it was just him and perhaps Engomat, he was able to relax just a bit and allow himself to feel that ancient feeling. The thing he’d felt ever since he was a child.
How long would he have to live in order to see his dream fulfilled? Or to see it even approached, for that matter?
Countless times, he’d wrestled with doubt. With impossibility. But countless more times, he’d persevered. He wasn’t dead yet, much as the world might’ve wanted him to be.
And in more ways than one, perhaps.
Ah. He could see Adarius, already. That was unusual for this time of day on this side of the planet. Oh! Was that a comet?! What absurd luck!
Which one was it? He used Engomat to help rack in his brain, trying to recall the last time he’d read up on the subject. It was only a couple months ago.
Yes. He remembered reading that Ariah’s Comet was supposed to be passing by soon. Wow. How could that have slipped his mind?
Incredible.
How long had it been since the last time he’d seen Ariah like this? He wasn’t entirely sure, but it probably wasn’t more than two hundred years. Ariah was a short-period comet, after all.
His mouth hung open a little as he marveled at it. Yes, now he did remember his last viewing.
It had been just before the Breaking.
Back then, he’d been unable to think of it as anything other than a herald of the gods: a fortuitous omen sent to bless his imminent foray into death or glory.
With the benefit of hindsight and an extra hundred and fifty-or-so years under his belt, Dozer had to look back on his younger self with a bit of disdain and disappointment. He’d truly thought of himself as the center of the universe in those days, hadn’t he? A blessing from the cosmos? Laughable.
While the Breaking of Korgum had certainly left its mark on history and renewed fear of him throughout the world, in his mind it was nothing more than a pathetic failure. If only he’d been more patient. More methodical. Under him, Korgum would have become a far more beautiful nation in this modern age. Not like the cesspit it was now.
How long would he have to live in order to see his dream fulfilled? Or to see it even approached, for that matter?
Countless times, he’d wrestled with doubt. With impossibility. But countless more times, he’d persevered. He wasn’t dead yet, much as the world might’ve wanted him to be.
And in more ways than one, perhaps.
Ah. He could see Adarius, already. That was unusual for this time of day on this side of the planet. Oh! Was that a comet?! What absurd luck!
Which one was it? He used Engomat to help rack in his brain, trying to recall the last time he’d read up on the subject. It was only a couple months ago.
Yes. He remembered reading that Ariah’s Comet was supposed to be passing by soon. Wow. How could that have slipped his mind?
Incredible.
How long had it been since the last time he’d seen Ariah like this? He wasn’t entirely sure, but it probably wasn’t more than two hundred years. Ariah was a short-period comet, after all.
His mouth hung open a little as he marveled at it. Yes, now he did remember his last viewing.
It had been just before the Breaking.
Back then, he’d been unable to think of it as anything other than a herald of the gods: a fortuitous omen sent to bless his imminent foray into death or glory.
With the benefit of hindsight and an extra hundred and fifty-or-so years under his belt, Dozer had to look back on his younger self with a bit of disdain and disappointment. He’d truly thought of himself as the center of the universe in those days, hadn’t he? A blessing from the cosmos? Laughable.
While the Breaking of Korgum had certainly left its mark on history and renewed fear of him throughout the world, in his mind it was nothing more than a pathetic failure. If only he’d been more patient. More methodical. Under him, Korgum would have become a far more beautiful nation in this modern age. Not like the cesspit it was now.
Tuesday, June 27, 2023
Page 3349
“I’m not in the mood for your philosophizing, Ito.”
“When are you ever, Master?”
A fair point, he supposed. He stood up and rolled his neck. “Any movement from the Dulvani?”
“Yes,” said Itoya. “They appear to be evacuating.”
“Smart. And a shame. It would have been interesting to fight them, too. With how secretive they are, I imagine they must have quite a few tricks up their sleeves.”
“Would you like me to pursue them?”
He had to take a moment to think about that. On the one hand, Itoya was among his very best men and would no doubt see the job done to perfection, so long as precise instructions were given. But on the other hand, losing the manpower against the Mendocava would be more than just a nuisance.
Were the Dulvani worth it? Possibly. They could hold some of the answers he was looking for, but he doubted it. And even if they did, they would never willingly share them with him.
Not with the wicked one called Dozer.
In that vein, perhaps a different strategy was in order.
“No,” said Dozer. “Send some of Germal’s men, instead. We have a few here, don’t we?”
“We do, Master. But I cannot recommend trusting them with such a task. They are often insubordinate or weak. Or both.”
Unsurprising. Itoya got along with Germal about as well as water got along with oil, so any of the Liar’s disciples were naturally going to incur a similar degree of ire.
But there was a reason why Dozer had allowed this so-called Freeman Fellowship to continue existing, despite all the hassle and infighting it provoked from many of the other sects. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Ito.”
“...Yes, Master.” And perhaps the man could sense that he had overstepped, because he bowed and walked away without saying another word.
The Freemen. In many ways, they were the embodiment of what Abolish was frequently lacking. A delicate touch. The ability to see and appreciate nuance. And while it was certainly true that they were often too soft or hesitant for their own good, the rest of Abolish obviously made up for such weaknesses in spades.
If any of his men were going to get through to the Dulvani, it might be them. And if not, oh well. That was a problem for another day.
He looked up at the open blue sky and drank in the view. It was late enough in the day that he could already see some of the stars, even though the sun had not yet set.
“When are you ever, Master?”
A fair point, he supposed. He stood up and rolled his neck. “Any movement from the Dulvani?”
“Yes,” said Itoya. “They appear to be evacuating.”
“Smart. And a shame. It would have been interesting to fight them, too. With how secretive they are, I imagine they must have quite a few tricks up their sleeves.”
“Would you like me to pursue them?”
He had to take a moment to think about that. On the one hand, Itoya was among his very best men and would no doubt see the job done to perfection, so long as precise instructions were given. But on the other hand, losing the manpower against the Mendocava would be more than just a nuisance.
Were the Dulvani worth it? Possibly. They could hold some of the answers he was looking for, but he doubted it. And even if they did, they would never willingly share them with him.
Not with the wicked one called Dozer.
In that vein, perhaps a different strategy was in order.
“No,” said Dozer. “Send some of Germal’s men, instead. We have a few here, don’t we?”
“We do, Master. But I cannot recommend trusting them with such a task. They are often insubordinate or weak. Or both.”
Unsurprising. Itoya got along with Germal about as well as water got along with oil, so any of the Liar’s disciples were naturally going to incur a similar degree of ire.
But there was a reason why Dozer had allowed this so-called Freeman Fellowship to continue existing, despite all the hassle and infighting it provoked from many of the other sects. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Ito.”
“...Yes, Master.” And perhaps the man could sense that he had overstepped, because he bowed and walked away without saying another word.
The Freemen. In many ways, they were the embodiment of what Abolish was frequently lacking. A delicate touch. The ability to see and appreciate nuance. And while it was certainly true that they were often too soft or hesitant for their own good, the rest of Abolish obviously made up for such weaknesses in spades.
If any of his men were going to get through to the Dulvani, it might be them. And if not, oh well. That was a problem for another day.
He looked up at the open blue sky and drank in the view. It was late enough in the day that he could already see some of the stars, even though the sun had not yet set.
Monday, June 26, 2023
Page 3348
He’d hoped that engaging them in battle would allow him to learn more about them, but months had transpired now, and beyond the minutiae, the only thing he felt like he’d truly come to understand was how annoying these stubborn bastards were.
These Mendocava, as they were called.
Despite having little to no regeneration, they still had a tendency to keep getting back up, anyway. Even headless, their bodies would continue on without them, which was perhaps the biggest difference between them and normal undead. If they had a point of control at all, it was clearly not the brain.
Even now, after all these battles, he still wasn’t entirely sure what made some of them eventually stop rising again. Annihilating them entirely worked quite well, obviously, but aside from that, it was uncertain.
He’d had his men dissecting their corpses day and night since the fighting began, but once they’d stopped moving, they appeared to be nothing more than normal, decayed bodies. No trace of ardor or soul power left.
He wondered if they even had any sentience whatsoever. It seemed so, considering the fact that they were clearly trying to prevent him from going certain places, but maybe that was just an illusion of their puppeteer.
Whoever that was, he was going to take his sweet time when he finally found them. Even disregarding the necessity of an interrogation, a quick death would be far more than they deserved.
The sound of crunching footsteps drew his weathered gaze to the left, and he saw his man there.
“Are you alright, Master?” he asked in Valgan.
Ichiro Itoya was a man of visibly advanced years, though not as much as himself. The flecks of gray in Itoya’s sharp mustache matched well with his piercing silver gaze. He was not a man given to expressing concern trivially, either, so the question he’d asked must’ve been prompted by quite the vile sight.
“I’m fine,” he said in two voices, also in Valgan. “Despite appearances, they’ve yet to lay a finger on me.” And he motioned to the dried viscera all over him. “This is just splashback.”
“Of course, Master.” Itoya had a fair bit of grime and gruel on him, too, mussing his normally pristine longcoat. “But you do look rather weary, sitting there like that. Perhaps they are not trying to win the war of the body but the one of the mind, hmm?”
These Mendocava, as they were called.
Despite having little to no regeneration, they still had a tendency to keep getting back up, anyway. Even headless, their bodies would continue on without them, which was perhaps the biggest difference between them and normal undead. If they had a point of control at all, it was clearly not the brain.
Even now, after all these battles, he still wasn’t entirely sure what made some of them eventually stop rising again. Annihilating them entirely worked quite well, obviously, but aside from that, it was uncertain.
He’d had his men dissecting their corpses day and night since the fighting began, but once they’d stopped moving, they appeared to be nothing more than normal, decayed bodies. No trace of ardor or soul power left.
He wondered if they even had any sentience whatsoever. It seemed so, considering the fact that they were clearly trying to prevent him from going certain places, but maybe that was just an illusion of their puppeteer.
Whoever that was, he was going to take his sweet time when he finally found them. Even disregarding the necessity of an interrogation, a quick death would be far more than they deserved.
The sound of crunching footsteps drew his weathered gaze to the left, and he saw his man there.
“Are you alright, Master?” he asked in Valgan.
Ichiro Itoya was a man of visibly advanced years, though not as much as himself. The flecks of gray in Itoya’s sharp mustache matched well with his piercing silver gaze. He was not a man given to expressing concern trivially, either, so the question he’d asked must’ve been prompted by quite the vile sight.
“I’m fine,” he said in two voices, also in Valgan. “Despite appearances, they’ve yet to lay a finger on me.” And he motioned to the dried viscera all over him. “This is just splashback.”
“Of course, Master.” Itoya had a fair bit of grime and gruel on him, too, mussing his normally pristine longcoat. “But you do look rather weary, sitting there like that. Perhaps they are not trying to win the war of the body but the one of the mind, hmm?”
Sunday, June 25, 2023
Page 3347 -- CCLXXXII.
‘No,’ said Kalikos ‘‘Tis an aerial bombardment.’
Another tremor arrived, as if to accentuate the reaper’s words.
“How do you know that?” said Loren.
‘There is much being spoken of, if one has the patience to listen,’ said Kalikos.
Loren frowned. “That... doesn’t answer my question.”
“We have our own lines of communication,” said Caster. “I’m afraid telling you any more than that would not be a kindness on our part. Some knowledge comes with strings attached, you see.”
The chamber shook again, this time with much more violent force, making Loren stumble. Entire boulders broke free from the walls and plunged into the pool below, splashing water all the way up to Loren’s feet.
The trembling slowed but didn’t stop, and the continuous groaning of the cave was more than a little unsettling.
“It appears we’ve dawdled too long, already. Let’s get the hell out of here, shall we?” And without waiting, the small man bounded over the ledge and cannonballed into the water with Kalikos in pursuit.
Loren just followed.
Chapter Two Hundred Eighty-Two: ‘Hark! O, dictator of the Empty...!’
Click to display entire chapter at once -- (mobile link)
It had been another long day. Covered in dirt and grime, rotten flesh and blackened blood, he wiped his forehead and took a long, deep breath before finally taking a seat on the nearest tree stump. It was wide enough to fit ten men, at least. He rolled his shoulders as he looked around another time.
Felled trees of gargantuan proportions littered the horizon, splintered apart or wholly uprooted--or simply sliced clean through like the one he was currently sitting on.
The Jaskadan Forest wasn’t looking too good, anymore. This portion of it. There was still plenty more left to go, though, east of here and north, as well. These rotting bastards were lucky the Ardoran continent was so vast.
Among the fallen trees lay also his fallen opponents. It took quite a bit for them to stay down. They weren’t like normal servants--that was for certain. While they didn’t appear to regenerate much at all, each one had the durability of a hundred-year-old servant, at a minimum.
Fire had seemed effective at first, but they appeared to have adapted, somehow. Freezing them never worked at all. Perhaps their rotten brains weren’t even functional to begin with. Plus, they could move without need of their muscles, too, so the fight would continue long after a typical servant’s body would have been rendered totally immobile.
Another tremor arrived, as if to accentuate the reaper’s words.
“How do you know that?” said Loren.
‘There is much being spoken of, if one has the patience to listen,’ said Kalikos.
Loren frowned. “That... doesn’t answer my question.”
“We have our own lines of communication,” said Caster. “I’m afraid telling you any more than that would not be a kindness on our part. Some knowledge comes with strings attached, you see.”
The chamber shook again, this time with much more violent force, making Loren stumble. Entire boulders broke free from the walls and plunged into the pool below, splashing water all the way up to Loren’s feet.
The trembling slowed but didn’t stop, and the continuous groaning of the cave was more than a little unsettling.
“It appears we’ve dawdled too long, already. Let’s get the hell out of here, shall we?” And without waiting, the small man bounded over the ledge and cannonballed into the water with Kalikos in pursuit.
Loren just followed.
Chapter Two Hundred Eighty-Two: ‘Hark! O, dictator of the Empty...!’
Click to display entire chapter at once -- (mobile link)
It had been another long day. Covered in dirt and grime, rotten flesh and blackened blood, he wiped his forehead and took a long, deep breath before finally taking a seat on the nearest tree stump. It was wide enough to fit ten men, at least. He rolled his shoulders as he looked around another time.
Felled trees of gargantuan proportions littered the horizon, splintered apart or wholly uprooted--or simply sliced clean through like the one he was currently sitting on.
The Jaskadan Forest wasn’t looking too good, anymore. This portion of it. There was still plenty more left to go, though, east of here and north, as well. These rotting bastards were lucky the Ardoran continent was so vast.
Among the fallen trees lay also his fallen opponents. It took quite a bit for them to stay down. They weren’t like normal servants--that was for certain. While they didn’t appear to regenerate much at all, each one had the durability of a hundred-year-old servant, at a minimum.
Fire had seemed effective at first, but they appeared to have adapted, somehow. Freezing them never worked at all. Perhaps their rotten brains weren’t even functional to begin with. Plus, they could move without need of their muscles, too, so the fight would continue long after a typical servant’s body would have been rendered totally immobile.
Saturday, June 24, 2023
Page 3346
‘You do not mean that, surely,’ said Kalikos. ‘It was by your design that I have become this way. Do not think I did not notice or have forgotten.’
Caster held up his hands defensively, though he was still laughing. “Don’t be mad. You know we’re better off, now.”
And when Kalikos made no response, Rezolo took the opportunity to chime in. ‘You are truly rooting against Abolish in this war? Do you not still count yourselves as part of it?’
“We are Freemen now,” said Caster. “As are you, no?”
‘We are,’ said Rezolo, ‘but it’s my understanding that the Fellowship’s goal is to change Abolish from within, not annihilate it.’
“Yes,” said Caster. “But if our internal rivals were eliminated for us, then that task would be made quite a bit easier, wouldn’t you say? Or does that sound too cold to you?”
‘I suppose not,’ said Rezolo. ‘I’m just surprised. But either way, I doubt things will go smoothly for us. If our side does suffer losses as great as you are suggesting, then do you think the Vanguard will care to differentiate between Freemen and non-Freemen? If such a time indeed arrives, then I imagine they will be as ruthless as anyone in Abolish.’
‘Right you may be,’ said Kalikos. ‘Which is why we should preserve our strength. Manpower will be crucial in the days to come.’
Rezolo had no response for that, apparently.
Loren wanted to ask about who they planned on recruiting next, but a sudden tremor arrived, pulling trails of dust from the rocky ceiling.
“Looks like it’s begun,” said Caster, looking up. “We should be safe down here, though.”
Loren stared at him a moment. “...You came here in order to avoid the fighting?”
The small man returned a slight smile. “There’s nothing up there worth risking our lives for. In fact, we should probably just skedaddle. I hope you’re a strong swimmer.”
Loren’s mouth was open, but he didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting from his fearless leader who also happened to be one of the most powerful servants he’d ever met.
Caster seemed amused by his reaction. “Are you disappointed, Lighteyes? I thought you were tired of me dragging you into fights all the time.”
Well, he was. But this was different. Or was it? Loren was confused. “I... just... thought that the enemy might be down here...”
Caster held up his hands defensively, though he was still laughing. “Don’t be mad. You know we’re better off, now.”
And when Kalikos made no response, Rezolo took the opportunity to chime in. ‘You are truly rooting against Abolish in this war? Do you not still count yourselves as part of it?’
“We are Freemen now,” said Caster. “As are you, no?”
‘We are,’ said Rezolo, ‘but it’s my understanding that the Fellowship’s goal is to change Abolish from within, not annihilate it.’
“Yes,” said Caster. “But if our internal rivals were eliminated for us, then that task would be made quite a bit easier, wouldn’t you say? Or does that sound too cold to you?”
‘I suppose not,’ said Rezolo. ‘I’m just surprised. But either way, I doubt things will go smoothly for us. If our side does suffer losses as great as you are suggesting, then do you think the Vanguard will care to differentiate between Freemen and non-Freemen? If such a time indeed arrives, then I imagine they will be as ruthless as anyone in Abolish.’
‘Right you may be,’ said Kalikos. ‘Which is why we should preserve our strength. Manpower will be crucial in the days to come.’
Rezolo had no response for that, apparently.
Loren wanted to ask about who they planned on recruiting next, but a sudden tremor arrived, pulling trails of dust from the rocky ceiling.
“Looks like it’s begun,” said Caster, looking up. “We should be safe down here, though.”
Loren stared at him a moment. “...You came here in order to avoid the fighting?”
The small man returned a slight smile. “There’s nothing up there worth risking our lives for. In fact, we should probably just skedaddle. I hope you’re a strong swimmer.”
Loren’s mouth was open, but he didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting from his fearless leader who also happened to be one of the most powerful servants he’d ever met.
Caster seemed amused by his reaction. “Are you disappointed, Lighteyes? I thought you were tired of me dragging you into fights all the time.”
Well, he was. But this was different. Or was it? Loren was confused. “I... just... thought that the enemy might be down here...”
Friday, June 23, 2023
Page 3345
As they made their way down, the flat stones of the fortress gradually receded into uneven, natural rock. Caster led them through one final door, and then they were just in a narrow, winding cave. There weren’t even stairs anymore, despite the fact that they were still descending.
And an eerie quiet arrived, broken only by their echoing footsteps. Almost no light was making it down here, either, which wasn’t a problem for Loren Lighteyes--and apparently not for Caster Egmond, either, judging by the way he just kept on moving forward without even slowing down.
Kalikos was following closely behind Caster, having not said a word this entire time. It almost made Loren want to ask him another question, just to hear what random smattering of ideas might spill out again.
At length, however, the cave widened into a much larger space, enough so that it nearly looked like a manmade chamber.
A thick beam of light from above made it clear where the well was located. It must’ve been around midday, too, with how strong that beam was.
Loren could see a wide pool of water farther down, along with various sunken paths through which it gently flowed.
Hmm. Apart from that, this place was a dead end. So he supposed if anyone was going to be sneaking in, it would have to be through one those underwater holes. He wished he knew which of them, if any, led down to the base of the mountain. Hell, perhaps they all did.
“This should be far enough,” said Caster, voice bouncing off the cave walls. “We’ll wait here, for now.”
“Wait for what, exactly?” said Loren. “To be attacked?” Didn’t seem like much a plan.
Caster turned and looked at him for the first time in a while. “On the contrary, just the opposite.”
“...What do you mean?”
‘‘Twill be starting soon,’ said Kalikos.
Rezolo was the one to ask the obvious question. ‘What will?’
‘The end of Abolish.’
Loren’s eyes widened. He exchanged looks with Rezolo, who seemed equally bewildered.
“Perhaps,” added Caster. “But perhaps not.”
‘You truly see them surviving this?’ asked Kalikos.
“The ones here? Certainly not. But elsewhere? Many among them will be quite difficult to get rid of. You know that, Kal.”
‘Mm. Alas, you may be right. Wishful thinking may have gripped me.’
“Heh. Didn’t think you were the type to take sides, anymore.”
And an eerie quiet arrived, broken only by their echoing footsteps. Almost no light was making it down here, either, which wasn’t a problem for Loren Lighteyes--and apparently not for Caster Egmond, either, judging by the way he just kept on moving forward without even slowing down.
Kalikos was following closely behind Caster, having not said a word this entire time. It almost made Loren want to ask him another question, just to hear what random smattering of ideas might spill out again.
At length, however, the cave widened into a much larger space, enough so that it nearly looked like a manmade chamber.
A thick beam of light from above made it clear where the well was located. It must’ve been around midday, too, with how strong that beam was.
Loren could see a wide pool of water farther down, along with various sunken paths through which it gently flowed.
Hmm. Apart from that, this place was a dead end. So he supposed if anyone was going to be sneaking in, it would have to be through one those underwater holes. He wished he knew which of them, if any, led down to the base of the mountain. Hell, perhaps they all did.
“This should be far enough,” said Caster, voice bouncing off the cave walls. “We’ll wait here, for now.”
“Wait for what, exactly?” said Loren. “To be attacked?” Didn’t seem like much a plan.
Caster turned and looked at him for the first time in a while. “On the contrary, just the opposite.”
“...What do you mean?”
‘‘Twill be starting soon,’ said Kalikos.
Rezolo was the one to ask the obvious question. ‘What will?’
‘The end of Abolish.’
Loren’s eyes widened. He exchanged looks with Rezolo, who seemed equally bewildered.
“Perhaps,” added Caster. “But perhaps not.”
‘You truly see them surviving this?’ asked Kalikos.
“The ones here? Certainly not. But elsewhere? Many among them will be quite difficult to get rid of. You know that, Kal.”
‘Mm. Alas, you may be right. Wishful thinking may have gripped me.’
“Heh. Didn’t think you were the type to take sides, anymore.”
Thursday, June 22, 2023
Page 3344
What exactly that something was, the rumors had difficulty pinning down. Some said he’d captured them all and now had a dozen or more high-ranking reapers as hostages.
Others said it was far worse, that he didn’t just capture them. They said he’d turned them. Brainwashed them. Enslaved their minds and made them release all of their servants, just like that.
And still others said that no, it was something that was arguably even more terrifying. He’d simply convinced them to join him. With mere words. Didn’t even have to brainwash them.
All-in-all, it sounded rather unlikely to Loren--or at the very last, greatly exaggerated. For one thing, how in the world would anyone here in Abolish have learned about him doing something like that? If all the reapers turned traitor, and all the servants were released, then there would’ve been no one left to relay what happened.
And whenever Loren had pointed out such things to the various soldiers who were gossiping about it, they began sounding abruptly less certain and less fearful. But some also tried posing some iffy explanations. Maybe one or two reapers had escaped, they’d said. Maybe the Surgeon had let them get away precisely for this reason, because he wanted Abolish to know.
Whatever the truth actually was, all of the rumors seemed to agree that Frederick was in an almost unassailably advantageous position now.
That this war was already lost, even.
Regardless of how Frederick had managed to pull it off, if he really did have so many ex-Abolish reapers feeding him intel, then that would explain why every operation was a failure. Frederick knew what they were going to do before they did it. He knew their backup plans for their backup plans.
Needless to say, morale in this corner of the war was rather low. Over the course of Caster’s little tour around the continent, Loren didn’t think he’d ever seen it this bad.
The one saving grace, some said, was that the Surgeon Saint had a bleeding heart. A man renowned for his mercy. So if they were to lose, then at least they could be relatively certain that he would spare their lives.
That was why a lot the guardsmen and soldiers around here actually looked more bored than afraid. To many of them, the upcoming battles were already a foregone conclusion. It was just a waiting game, now.
Others said it was far worse, that he didn’t just capture them. They said he’d turned them. Brainwashed them. Enslaved their minds and made them release all of their servants, just like that.
And still others said that no, it was something that was arguably even more terrifying. He’d simply convinced them to join him. With mere words. Didn’t even have to brainwash them.
All-in-all, it sounded rather unlikely to Loren--or at the very last, greatly exaggerated. For one thing, how in the world would anyone here in Abolish have learned about him doing something like that? If all the reapers turned traitor, and all the servants were released, then there would’ve been no one left to relay what happened.
And whenever Loren had pointed out such things to the various soldiers who were gossiping about it, they began sounding abruptly less certain and less fearful. But some also tried posing some iffy explanations. Maybe one or two reapers had escaped, they’d said. Maybe the Surgeon had let them get away precisely for this reason, because he wanted Abolish to know.
Whatever the truth actually was, all of the rumors seemed to agree that Frederick was in an almost unassailably advantageous position now.
That this war was already lost, even.
Regardless of how Frederick had managed to pull it off, if he really did have so many ex-Abolish reapers feeding him intel, then that would explain why every operation was a failure. Frederick knew what they were going to do before they did it. He knew their backup plans for their backup plans.
Needless to say, morale in this corner of the war was rather low. Over the course of Caster’s little tour around the continent, Loren didn’t think he’d ever seen it this bad.
The one saving grace, some said, was that the Surgeon Saint had a bleeding heart. A man renowned for his mercy. So if they were to lose, then at least they could be relatively certain that he would spare their lives.
That was why a lot the guardsmen and soldiers around here actually looked more bored than afraid. To many of them, the upcoming battles were already a foregone conclusion. It was just a waiting game, now.
Wednesday, June 21, 2023
Page 3343
Loren admired his confidence but didn’t share it. “Sir, if the enemy has sent someone to infiltrate, they won’t be pushovers. Frederick himself could be among them.”
“Doubtful,” said Caster, “but if he is, that would be fortunate for us. I should like to speak with him.”
Loren frowned. He supposed there was no point in arguing, but from everything he’d been hearing of these two Melmoorian warfronts, Captain General Fen Frederick of the Vanguard was most likely not someone that they would want to encounter. While there were definitely other men making names for themselves out here, the Surgeon Saint’s reputation had risen the most.
Frederick was being attributed with the majority of Melmoore’s success thus far. Whether that was actually the truth of things or not remained to be seen, but Lighteyes had seen and heard the fear that his name evoked in many of the men around here.
There was one particular story that had caught Loren’s attention, too.
Supposedly, it happened in a place called Erimor, a little mountain town in southern Melmoore and one of the earliest conquests in Corrico’s invasion. The town had quickly become a headquarters from which the Corricoans organized and coordinated their assaults on larger cities in the area. By all accounts, it had been a well-positioned, easily defensible location--and nicely hidden away, to boot. Even satellites couldn’t spot it because of the way a certain mountainous cave arched over it.
The expectation had been that, even if their offensives failed or otherwise stalled, Erimor would allow their HQ to operate discreetly for quite a while, buying them plenty of extra time to regroup or implement various contingency plans.
And progress had been good. The invasion proceeded quite strongly.
At first.
Major cities were captured quickly--or just completely annihilated. The sphere of influence grew rapidly, with Erimor near the heart of it, well-protected on all sides.
Until Erimor went totally dark.
Word stopped arriving. No new orders. No new plans. No new intel. No new anything. And the cracks in the invasion began to form, until every new assault failed, either because they were too unorganized or the enemy too well-prepared.
The rumors were still uncertain about how Erimor had been taken back so suddenly, but it was popular sentiment that Frederick was responsible, that he’d snuck into the town with a small force--or even alone, as some told it--and done something to all of the Abolish reapers there.
“Doubtful,” said Caster, “but if he is, that would be fortunate for us. I should like to speak with him.”
Loren frowned. He supposed there was no point in arguing, but from everything he’d been hearing of these two Melmoorian warfronts, Captain General Fen Frederick of the Vanguard was most likely not someone that they would want to encounter. While there were definitely other men making names for themselves out here, the Surgeon Saint’s reputation had risen the most.
Frederick was being attributed with the majority of Melmoore’s success thus far. Whether that was actually the truth of things or not remained to be seen, but Lighteyes had seen and heard the fear that his name evoked in many of the men around here.
There was one particular story that had caught Loren’s attention, too.
Supposedly, it happened in a place called Erimor, a little mountain town in southern Melmoore and one of the earliest conquests in Corrico’s invasion. The town had quickly become a headquarters from which the Corricoans organized and coordinated their assaults on larger cities in the area. By all accounts, it had been a well-positioned, easily defensible location--and nicely hidden away, to boot. Even satellites couldn’t spot it because of the way a certain mountainous cave arched over it.
The expectation had been that, even if their offensives failed or otherwise stalled, Erimor would allow their HQ to operate discreetly for quite a while, buying them plenty of extra time to regroup or implement various contingency plans.
And progress had been good. The invasion proceeded quite strongly.
At first.
Major cities were captured quickly--or just completely annihilated. The sphere of influence grew rapidly, with Erimor near the heart of it, well-protected on all sides.
Until Erimor went totally dark.
Word stopped arriving. No new orders. No new plans. No new intel. No new anything. And the cracks in the invasion began to form, until every new assault failed, either because they were too unorganized or the enemy too well-prepared.
The rumors were still uncertain about how Erimor had been taken back so suddenly, but it was popular sentiment that Frederick was responsible, that he’d snuck into the town with a small force--or even alone, as some told it--and done something to all of the Abolish reapers there.
Tuesday, June 20, 2023
Page 3342
When he finally arrived, he stopped, suddenly rethinking. Supposing he actually did stumble upon a gaggle of attackers trying to sneak their way into the fortress, it would not go well for him all alone. Such a force would doubtless be composed of the enemy’s most elite soldiers.
Granted, this was the Melmoorian army and not the Vanguard, so maybe elite wouldn’t mean much, comparatively. But then again, the Vanguard might be sprinkled in among them.
He didn’t have any authority here, though. He couldn’t just order some guards to follow him. Caster could’ve, but he wasn’t--
“What’re you up to, Lighteyes?”
Loren just about jumped out of his skin before turning around and seeing Caster standing there. He needed a second to compose himself. “Sir, ah...”
“Not planning on doing anything stupid, I hope,” said Caster. “I can’t afford to lose my right-hand man, you know.”
Right-hand man? Was that really what he was to him? That was a hell of a compliment, but Loren didn’t know how much truth could be in it. He didn’t feel like he’d been doing anything lately to deserve it. Or anything at all, for that matter. “I, uh... I just wanted to check for a route through the well. If this fortress has any weakness, it might be there.” Wait, why had Caster said all that just now? Had he already known what Loren was planning to do?
“Interesting. I’ll go with you.”
Loren blinked but didn’t get the chance to respond.
Despite what he’d said, Caster was already moving ahead, not waiting for him.
Loren followed. He’d only had a vague idea of where to go in the first place. The well was certainly wide enough for a man to be lowered down, but there should’ve also been a staircase in the nearby keep that led into some underground caverns, to which the well belonged.
Probably.
Whenever they visited a new fortress, he’d always seen Caster pouring over maps and blueprints. Loren had tried to look over them, too, but now that his knowledge was actually being somewhat tested, he was feeling unsure of himself.
They made their way down together, drawing glances from various guardsmen as they passed.
“You could ask for more men, sir,” said Loren. “They’d listen to you.”
“They’d just get in the way,” said Caster. “It’ll be a tight fit down there, I’m sure.”
Granted, this was the Melmoorian army and not the Vanguard, so maybe elite wouldn’t mean much, comparatively. But then again, the Vanguard might be sprinkled in among them.
He didn’t have any authority here, though. He couldn’t just order some guards to follow him. Caster could’ve, but he wasn’t--
“What’re you up to, Lighteyes?”
Loren just about jumped out of his skin before turning around and seeing Caster standing there. He needed a second to compose himself. “Sir, ah...”
“Not planning on doing anything stupid, I hope,” said Caster. “I can’t afford to lose my right-hand man, you know.”
Right-hand man? Was that really what he was to him? That was a hell of a compliment, but Loren didn’t know how much truth could be in it. He didn’t feel like he’d been doing anything lately to deserve it. Or anything at all, for that matter. “I, uh... I just wanted to check for a route through the well. If this fortress has any weakness, it might be there.” Wait, why had Caster said all that just now? Had he already known what Loren was planning to do?
“Interesting. I’ll go with you.”
Loren blinked but didn’t get the chance to respond.
Despite what he’d said, Caster was already moving ahead, not waiting for him.
Loren followed. He’d only had a vague idea of where to go in the first place. The well was certainly wide enough for a man to be lowered down, but there should’ve also been a staircase in the nearby keep that led into some underground caverns, to which the well belonged.
Probably.
Whenever they visited a new fortress, he’d always seen Caster pouring over maps and blueprints. Loren had tried to look over them, too, but now that his knowledge was actually being somewhat tested, he was feeling unsure of himself.
They made their way down together, drawing glances from various guardsmen as they passed.
“You could ask for more men, sir,” said Loren. “They’d listen to you.”
“They’d just get in the way,” said Caster. “It’ll be a tight fit down there, I’m sure.”
Monday, June 19, 2023
Page 3341
He searched for anything out of the ordinary. If a ground attack was truly imminent, then it would be obvious from this vantage point. That was one of the primary reasons why fortresses were built on mountains like this, after all.
But the age of this place did not do it any favors in the modern era. Naturally, an aerial assault was a very real possibility here, and in fact, it would almost certainly arrive first in order to soften the defenders up for the eventual siege. Long-range artillery was also quite likely, though he didn’t see any at the moment, which was another sign an attack was not yet to occur.
He supposed a stealthy amphibious assault was still a possibility, though. There was a long river that snaked across the landscape, coming right up to the base of the mountain and wrapping partially around it before flowing into the eastern horizon. If he were the one tasked with leading a surprise attack, that was how he would approach it, but it still wouldn’t be easy.
The Rat’s Nest got its water from an underground well, deep in the heart of the mountain. If there was a path there from the river, it was not obvious and would therefore be quite narrow, making it easily defensible.
Assuming the defenders were actually guarding it, that was.
Maybe that was something he should look into while he still had the time.
‘Well?’ said Rezolo in the echo of privacy. ‘What do you see?’
‘Not much.’ His feet did start moving, however, back down the stairs. ‘Would they really mount an attack, now? What about those rumors of peace talks already going on?’
‘Unfortunately, they might just be rumors,’ said Rezolo, ‘but even if they’re not, talks do not equate to a ceasefire, much less a treaty. And if the Melmoorians are able to strike a major blow before anything is officially agreed upon, then that would certainly improve their bargaining power, now wouldn’t it?’
That was definitely not what he wanted to hear, right now, but he found it hard to disagree with the reaper’s perspective.
‘Where are you going?’ said Rezolo. ‘You only looked for a few minutes.’
‘I want to check something.’
The well, rather annoyingly, was back through the inner walls, on the other side the labyrinth. He kept a brisk pace as he returned, feeling increasingly uneasy the closer he got.
But the age of this place did not do it any favors in the modern era. Naturally, an aerial assault was a very real possibility here, and in fact, it would almost certainly arrive first in order to soften the defenders up for the eventual siege. Long-range artillery was also quite likely, though he didn’t see any at the moment, which was another sign an attack was not yet to occur.
He supposed a stealthy amphibious assault was still a possibility, though. There was a long river that snaked across the landscape, coming right up to the base of the mountain and wrapping partially around it before flowing into the eastern horizon. If he were the one tasked with leading a surprise attack, that was how he would approach it, but it still wouldn’t be easy.
The Rat’s Nest got its water from an underground well, deep in the heart of the mountain. If there was a path there from the river, it was not obvious and would therefore be quite narrow, making it easily defensible.
Assuming the defenders were actually guarding it, that was.
Maybe that was something he should look into while he still had the time.
‘Well?’ said Rezolo in the echo of privacy. ‘What do you see?’
‘Not much.’ His feet did start moving, however, back down the stairs. ‘Would they really mount an attack, now? What about those rumors of peace talks already going on?’
‘Unfortunately, they might just be rumors,’ said Rezolo, ‘but even if they’re not, talks do not equate to a ceasefire, much less a treaty. And if the Melmoorians are able to strike a major blow before anything is officially agreed upon, then that would certainly improve their bargaining power, now wouldn’t it?’
That was definitely not what he wanted to hear, right now, but he found it hard to disagree with the reaper’s perspective.
‘Where are you going?’ said Rezolo. ‘You only looked for a few minutes.’
‘I want to check something.’
The well, rather annoyingly, was back through the inner walls, on the other side the labyrinth. He kept a brisk pace as he returned, feeling increasingly uneasy the closer he got.
Sunday, June 18, 2023
Page 3340
The place had a peculiar layout to it, no doubt due to the work of many different architects over many different eras, but its most prominent feature had to be the labyrinthine walls that surrounded the inner keep. The outer walls were normal enough, but the inner ones were full of branching paths, dead ends, booby traps, and bored-looking guardsmen standing atop crenellated turrets.
Whatever medieval lord had commissioned this horrific maze must have been quite the paranoid bastard. Perhaps that was why this stronghold had come to be called the Rat’s Nest.
Not a very flattering name for a place that boasted such impressive structures. True, it wasn’t the most... aesthetically pleasing castle Loren had ever seen, what with its mismatched stones and bricks and woods and lamps. But that still struck him as a bit unfair to the builders. He doubted any of them would’ve chosen such a name.
Thankfully, the maze was much easier to navigate when you had keys to the multitude of doors and gates that went straight down the center of it. And at the moment, most of the gates were up, probably because the guardsmen or perhaps one of the head honchos around here hated having to constantly wait for them to be raised and lowered whenever coming or going from the keep.
If Loren shouted for the guards to lower those gates, he wondered if they would even listen to him. He hoped he wasn’t going to find out.
He made for the outer walls, taking the first staircase that he could find to the top.
From up here, the view was certainly something.
The Rat’s Nest was a fortress within the nation of Corrico. And Corrico was currently at war with Melmoore. Not more than three months ago, Corrico and Ostra had both declared war by invading Melmoore, but here and now, it was the Melmoorian forces that Loren could see all the way out there on the horizon, sprawled across a number of tented encampments.
Was that three separate battalions? No, four. A full brigade, most likely, commanded by a brigadier general. If they were marching, at this distance, it would likely be two full days before they made it here, but to Loren’s eyes, there was not enough movement for that to be the case.
Yet.
None of this was news, of course. They’d known the circumstances of this place when choosing to come here, and from the sound of what Kalikos had just been rambling about, perhaps those circumstances were precisely why Caster had picked this place.
Whatever medieval lord had commissioned this horrific maze must have been quite the paranoid bastard. Perhaps that was why this stronghold had come to be called the Rat’s Nest.
Not a very flattering name for a place that boasted such impressive structures. True, it wasn’t the most... aesthetically pleasing castle Loren had ever seen, what with its mismatched stones and bricks and woods and lamps. But that still struck him as a bit unfair to the builders. He doubted any of them would’ve chosen such a name.
Thankfully, the maze was much easier to navigate when you had keys to the multitude of doors and gates that went straight down the center of it. And at the moment, most of the gates were up, probably because the guardsmen or perhaps one of the head honchos around here hated having to constantly wait for them to be raised and lowered whenever coming or going from the keep.
If Loren shouted for the guards to lower those gates, he wondered if they would even listen to him. He hoped he wasn’t going to find out.
He made for the outer walls, taking the first staircase that he could find to the top.
From up here, the view was certainly something.
The Rat’s Nest was a fortress within the nation of Corrico. And Corrico was currently at war with Melmoore. Not more than three months ago, Corrico and Ostra had both declared war by invading Melmoore, but here and now, it was the Melmoorian forces that Loren could see all the way out there on the horizon, sprawled across a number of tented encampments.
Was that three separate battalions? No, four. A full brigade, most likely, commanded by a brigadier general. If they were marching, at this distance, it would likely be two full days before they made it here, but to Loren’s eyes, there was not enough movement for that to be the case.
Yet.
None of this was news, of course. They’d known the circumstances of this place when choosing to come here, and from the sound of what Kalikos had just been rambling about, perhaps those circumstances were precisely why Caster had picked this place.
Saturday, June 17, 2023
Page 3339
Rezolo kept trying. ‘What do you mean? Why won’t we be here for much longer? Where is our next destination?’
‘No, no,’ said Kalikos. ‘You do not see. The Great Song is soon to be sung. And as such, many of these places shall be rent to dust. No way to know which may survive. Too many souls with too much gravity. And so communion must be swift. If any of these grounds be suitable, then they may be worth defending.’
What in the world? ‘You catch any of that?’ asked Lighteyes.
‘Uh, not really...’ Rezolo hovered closer to Loren. ‘But it sounds like we might be in for a fight soon.’
‘Oh yeah? What else is new?’
‘What is this Great Song you speak of?’ asked Rezolo, publicly again.
‘That is indeed the question,’ said Kalikos. ‘A turning point of the Age, perhaps. Or maybe just a footnote. Much is at stake, whatever the case. ‘Tis a wonder that the self-proclaimed protectors of this realm have not already given up the gambit, considering how much they have lost--and how much more they may yet. Fools, I say. But brave ones, to be sure.’
Loren squinted, feeling almost like he understood some of that. “Are you... talking about about the Vanguard, right now?”
‘To be a fool is a terrible thing. But to be a great fool--that may not be so bad. In fact, it may be necessary on the greater path. Judge them not too harshly, though they may deserve it. But if they be worthy, they will surely be able to endure such criticism, no? A curious matter.’
‘Yeah, he lost me again,’ said Loren.
Rezolo attached himself to his shoulder. ‘Let’s go do some scouting, shall we? I have a bad feeling.’
‘Is it okay to leave Caster and Kalikos alone?’ he asked. ‘What if someone attacks the reaper while Caster is busy talking to the dirt or whatever?’
‘I think they’ll be fine. I doubt Caster is that deeply incapacitated. Come on, now. Go put those eyes of yours to good use.’
Loren made no further argument.
This fortress, as he understood it, was one of the older ones on Eloa. It had traded hands many times between the Vanguard and Abolish--and likely others, too.
‘No, no,’ said Kalikos. ‘You do not see. The Great Song is soon to be sung. And as such, many of these places shall be rent to dust. No way to know which may survive. Too many souls with too much gravity. And so communion must be swift. If any of these grounds be suitable, then they may be worth defending.’
What in the world? ‘You catch any of that?’ asked Lighteyes.
‘Uh, not really...’ Rezolo hovered closer to Loren. ‘But it sounds like we might be in for a fight soon.’
‘Oh yeah? What else is new?’
‘What is this Great Song you speak of?’ asked Rezolo, publicly again.
‘That is indeed the question,’ said Kalikos. ‘A turning point of the Age, perhaps. Or maybe just a footnote. Much is at stake, whatever the case. ‘Tis a wonder that the self-proclaimed protectors of this realm have not already given up the gambit, considering how much they have lost--and how much more they may yet. Fools, I say. But brave ones, to be sure.’
Loren squinted, feeling almost like he understood some of that. “Are you... talking about about the Vanguard, right now?”
‘To be a fool is a terrible thing. But to be a great fool--that may not be so bad. In fact, it may be necessary on the greater path. Judge them not too harshly, though they may deserve it. But if they be worthy, they will surely be able to endure such criticism, no? A curious matter.’
‘Yeah, he lost me again,’ said Loren.
Rezolo attached himself to his shoulder. ‘Let’s go do some scouting, shall we? I have a bad feeling.’
‘Is it okay to leave Caster and Kalikos alone?’ he asked. ‘What if someone attacks the reaper while Caster is busy talking to the dirt or whatever?’
‘I think they’ll be fine. I doubt Caster is that deeply incapacitated. Come on, now. Go put those eyes of yours to good use.’
Loren made no further argument.
This fortress, as he understood it, was one of the older ones on Eloa. It had traded hands many times between the Vanguard and Abolish--and likely others, too.
Friday, June 16, 2023
Page 3338
‘‘Twould be quite the hurdle, taking care of it while intangible,’ Kalikos went on, ‘but perhaps that would make it all the more worthwhile.’
Loren exchanged glances with Rezolo. They’d already discussed the other reaper’s peculiarity at length. According to Rezolo, Kalikos wasn’t like this the last time they’d spoken, some thirty years ago.
Which was worrying information. It would’ve been more comforting to know that Kalikos had always just been some kind of kook. Thinking about how or why he might’ve changed... well, Loren didn’t like where his imagination wanted to go.
Rezolo, bless him, decided to take another crack at a conversation. ‘Kalikos,’ he said, which didn’t even manage to draw the other reaper’s gaze toward him. ‘Do you know why Caster is so interested in visiting these strongholds?’
Loren resisted the urge to shake his head. That was a question they’d both asked before, but from Rezolo’s intonation, it sounded like it was being asked for the first time. Perhaps Rezolo expected Kalikos to have no recollection of it ever having come up before and was therefore trying to be more gentle or subtle in his approach, despite any frustration that he might be feeling.
If so, then Loren could certainly relate.
Kalikos, however, appeared not to even hear him.
Loren had never seen a reaper in such a state. He had to wonder if it might be some kind of act. Reapers did have a tendency to be deceitful, sometimes for no other reason than to amuse themselves.
If it was an act, though, then it was a damn convincing one.
Rezolo gave a silent sigh, wrapped in the echo of privacy.
Loren was still debating whether he wanted to ask Caster directly about Kalikos’ apparent condition. It seemed quite a rude and awkward subject to bring up, and while he liked Caster more than just about any other boss he’d ever had in Abolish, that didn’t stop the man from still being rather terrifying, in his own way. They hadn’t been working together long enough for Loren to really know how Caster would react to such questions. Even if Caster didn’t fly off the handle and attack him, it could still cause other types of problems in their relationship.
Yeah. Better to just keep his head down and his mouth shut, for now. That was what Rezolo usually told him to do, anyway.
‘Won’t be here for much longer,’ said Kalikos. ‘Best to take it all in while you still can.’
Loren exchanged glances with Rezolo. They’d already discussed the other reaper’s peculiarity at length. According to Rezolo, Kalikos wasn’t like this the last time they’d spoken, some thirty years ago.
Which was worrying information. It would’ve been more comforting to know that Kalikos had always just been some kind of kook. Thinking about how or why he might’ve changed... well, Loren didn’t like where his imagination wanted to go.
Rezolo, bless him, decided to take another crack at a conversation. ‘Kalikos,’ he said, which didn’t even manage to draw the other reaper’s gaze toward him. ‘Do you know why Caster is so interested in visiting these strongholds?’
Loren resisted the urge to shake his head. That was a question they’d both asked before, but from Rezolo’s intonation, it sounded like it was being asked for the first time. Perhaps Rezolo expected Kalikos to have no recollection of it ever having come up before and was therefore trying to be more gentle or subtle in his approach, despite any frustration that he might be feeling.
If so, then Loren could certainly relate.
Kalikos, however, appeared not to even hear him.
Loren had never seen a reaper in such a state. He had to wonder if it might be some kind of act. Reapers did have a tendency to be deceitful, sometimes for no other reason than to amuse themselves.
If it was an act, though, then it was a damn convincing one.
Rezolo gave a silent sigh, wrapped in the echo of privacy.
Loren was still debating whether he wanted to ask Caster directly about Kalikos’ apparent condition. It seemed quite a rude and awkward subject to bring up, and while he liked Caster more than just about any other boss he’d ever had in Abolish, that didn’t stop the man from still being rather terrifying, in his own way. They hadn’t been working together long enough for Loren to really know how Caster would react to such questions. Even if Caster didn’t fly off the handle and attack him, it could still cause other types of problems in their relationship.
Yeah. Better to just keep his head down and his mouth shut, for now. That was what Rezolo usually told him to do, anyway.
‘Won’t be here for much longer,’ said Kalikos. ‘Best to take it all in while you still can.’
Thursday, June 15, 2023
Page 3337
The two of them had gotten into more than a few scraps during this trip. And worse still, despite being the chief instigator, Caster was frequently fine with standing by and watching Loren do all the fighting.
“Just trying to get a measure of you, lad,” he’d said. “I hope you’re not planning on complaining. You need the experience.”
Thankfully, Caster did step in whenever the situation began to look truly dire.
And while he had yet to see the Marauder ever get serious during a fight, it was now quite obvious to Loren that this man was far more powerful than he’d expected. And he’d already expected a lot.
The guy could lay opponents out without even moving a muscle. Somehow, he could just look at them, and they’d crumple like paper--and not always in the same manner, either. Sometimes, they would just fall over and stay down, seemingly passed out cold.
Other times, it was less pretty.
One guy ended up looking as if almost every bone in his body had been snapped in two and folded together, like he’d been crammed into an invisible box. And for all Loren knew, maybe he had. Loren still wasn’t sure how Caster’s powers worked. Rezolo said that Caster was supposed to be a destruction user, but none of the stuff he’d seen so far had looked like destruction to Loren.
All in all, though, Loren couldn’t say he was hating his time with the Marauder. This gig was definitely strange, but he knew from personal experience that there were far, far worse ones in Abolish.
It’d be nice if Caster could pick up the pace a bit, though.
This “communing with the land” business would’ve been a lot better if it didn’t mean Loren had to stand around so much. And it was unpredictable, too. Caster could be done in a few minutes or a few hours.
On this occasion, it was the latter.
The man’s reaper, Kalikos, was even stranger. Whenever Loren tried asking for elaboration or clarification on something from Kalikos, the reaper usually gave him some weird non-answer--or even a total non sequitur.
The oddest things that the reaper said, however, were the things that arrived out of nowhere, unprompted.
‘I should like a puppy of my own, someday,’ he said.
Loren’s foot stopped tapping as he looked over at the reaper, hovering around the Marauder’s short, motionless figure.
“Just trying to get a measure of you, lad,” he’d said. “I hope you’re not planning on complaining. You need the experience.”
Thankfully, Caster did step in whenever the situation began to look truly dire.
And while he had yet to see the Marauder ever get serious during a fight, it was now quite obvious to Loren that this man was far more powerful than he’d expected. And he’d already expected a lot.
The guy could lay opponents out without even moving a muscle. Somehow, he could just look at them, and they’d crumple like paper--and not always in the same manner, either. Sometimes, they would just fall over and stay down, seemingly passed out cold.
Other times, it was less pretty.
One guy ended up looking as if almost every bone in his body had been snapped in two and folded together, like he’d been crammed into an invisible box. And for all Loren knew, maybe he had. Loren still wasn’t sure how Caster’s powers worked. Rezolo said that Caster was supposed to be a destruction user, but none of the stuff he’d seen so far had looked like destruction to Loren.
All in all, though, Loren couldn’t say he was hating his time with the Marauder. This gig was definitely strange, but he knew from personal experience that there were far, far worse ones in Abolish.
It’d be nice if Caster could pick up the pace a bit, though.
This “communing with the land” business would’ve been a lot better if it didn’t mean Loren had to stand around so much. And it was unpredictable, too. Caster could be done in a few minutes or a few hours.
On this occasion, it was the latter.
The man’s reaper, Kalikos, was even stranger. Whenever Loren tried asking for elaboration or clarification on something from Kalikos, the reaper usually gave him some weird non-answer--or even a total non sequitur.
The oddest things that the reaper said, however, were the things that arrived out of nowhere, unprompted.
‘I should like a puppy of my own, someday,’ he said.
Loren’s foot stopped tapping as he looked over at the reaper, hovering around the Marauder’s short, motionless figure.
Wednesday, June 14, 2023
Page 3336 -- CCLXXXI.
Chapter Two Hundred Eighty-One: ‘The opening of the dark chorus...’
Click to display entire chapter at once -- (mobile link)
Loren Lighteyes tapped his foot against the stony floor, trying to have patience and not quite succeeding. Joining up with Caster Egmond’s new sect within the Freeman Fellowship had certainly proved to be a roller coaster so far.
In just the last two weeks, they’d visited half a dozen Abolish strongholds--and it wasn’t entirely clear why, either.
Obviously, Caster had plans, but he apparently wasn’t yet keen to share the details of them. And while being kept in the dark was nothing new to Loren, he still didn’t exactly love it.
Loren’s reaper, Rezolo, seemed to think that it was some type of recruitment drive. With Loren being the first one to join up, it made sense that Caster would want to gather more followers.
But if that was what he was doing, then he sure had an odd way of going about it. Because Loren was still the only one following Caster around.
Maybe the Marauder of Calthos was just being picky. That was what Rezolo kept saying, at least.
And there was some logic in that, too, Loren supposed. Viable candidates for the Freeman Fellowship were few and far between within Abolish, and if Caster wanted to be even more strict beyond that, then Loren had a feeling that they might never find anyone else to join up at all.
But the main reason he didn’t entirely buy Rezolo’s interpretation of events was because Caster wasn’t just going around and striking up conversations all the time. That was part of it, sure, but there were also times when the man simply stopped, closed his eyes, and stood still for a while.
It was almost like the man had just suddenly decided to start meditating out of nowhere. Loren had never known anyone to meditate standing up--and so randomly, too.
And when Loren asked him about it, Caster gave one of the strangest answers he’d ever heard.
“I am communing with the land,” he’d said.
Loren had of course asked for elaboration, but he hadn’t gotten it. Instead, Caster just promised that all would become clearer in time.
Pretty damn odd, this Marauder.
And then, of course, there were the arguments. Despite visiting so many Abolish strongholds, Caster wasn’t exactly acting friendly towards their hosts. Sometimes, he seemed to enjoy antagonizing them. Other times, he clearly enjoyed it.
Click to display entire chapter at once -- (mobile link)
Loren Lighteyes tapped his foot against the stony floor, trying to have patience and not quite succeeding. Joining up with Caster Egmond’s new sect within the Freeman Fellowship had certainly proved to be a roller coaster so far.
In just the last two weeks, they’d visited half a dozen Abolish strongholds--and it wasn’t entirely clear why, either.
Obviously, Caster had plans, but he apparently wasn’t yet keen to share the details of them. And while being kept in the dark was nothing new to Loren, he still didn’t exactly love it.
Loren’s reaper, Rezolo, seemed to think that it was some type of recruitment drive. With Loren being the first one to join up, it made sense that Caster would want to gather more followers.
But if that was what he was doing, then he sure had an odd way of going about it. Because Loren was still the only one following Caster around.
Maybe the Marauder of Calthos was just being picky. That was what Rezolo kept saying, at least.
And there was some logic in that, too, Loren supposed. Viable candidates for the Freeman Fellowship were few and far between within Abolish, and if Caster wanted to be even more strict beyond that, then Loren had a feeling that they might never find anyone else to join up at all.
But the main reason he didn’t entirely buy Rezolo’s interpretation of events was because Caster wasn’t just going around and striking up conversations all the time. That was part of it, sure, but there were also times when the man simply stopped, closed his eyes, and stood still for a while.
It was almost like the man had just suddenly decided to start meditating out of nowhere. Loren had never known anyone to meditate standing up--and so randomly, too.
And when Loren asked him about it, Caster gave one of the strangest answers he’d ever heard.
“I am communing with the land,” he’d said.
Loren had of course asked for elaboration, but he hadn’t gotten it. Instead, Caster just promised that all would become clearer in time.
Pretty damn odd, this Marauder.
And then, of course, there were the arguments. Despite visiting so many Abolish strongholds, Caster wasn’t exactly acting friendly towards their hosts. Sometimes, he seemed to enjoy antagonizing them. Other times, he clearly enjoyed it.
Tuesday, June 13, 2023
Page 3335
As the pain escalated, he couldn’t help acknowledging the risk. How well could she handle this? Better than he could? He was about to find out.
Agh. Even for him, this level of pain was a bit much. Not enjoyable. Disorienting. Excruciating, actually.
Then it was gone. His mind relaxed. Phew.
She’d relented.
“A quaint trick,” said the sister. “But you will need to do better than that, Little Fool.”
Huh. No effect? Unlikely. She wouldn’t have canceled her attack if that were the case. She was just putting on a brave face, trying to maintain her ego.
Good. He didn’t want this to be too--
Something else stole his attention. A sudden influx of intel from the Roberts on the western edge of the compound. They were engaged in battle autonomously.
Intruders.
“Ohoho!” said the sister, sounding suddenly quite pleased. “Finally noticed, have you?! The truth of the matter is that there is little I can do to you from this distant position. But a distraction was very much doable.”
Irritating.
A violent tremor arrived, freeing dust from the ceiling. He had a decision to make. Did he really need to go handle these intruders himself? The Roberts could handle almost anything on their own. So who--?
“Apologies for the use of trickery,” said Rasalased. “I do hope you do not die this day, Young Demon. There is more I would speak with you about.”
“Perhaps you will find these new opponents entertaining,” said the sister. “I suspect, however, that you already know enough about them to make you suitably nervous.”
What was she--?
Two of the Roberts just went offline at once. And more information was arriving. So much incoming data. Tough to parse through it all like this. The Roberts were swarming. Gathering intel en masse. And attacking. They needed guidance, though. More advanced and specific orders.
Uh-oh. Some of the intruders had already penetrated quite deep into the facility. Nearing the Vanguardian captives.
Couldn’t allow that, now could he? He started giving them new orders as he moved to personally intercept.
Who the heck had managed all this, anyway? Sure, he’d been distracted, but not for that long. This timing was quite suspicious.
And those silhouettes in the camera footage.
Ah.
One of them, at least, was very obvious. And from it, he could infer the others.
But the obvious one was the most problematic, he knew. He’d spent quite some time trying to learn more about that blasted creature after his encounter with it at Bellvine. Much of that battle had been hazy in his mind, but he’d remembered enough for it to leave a lasting impression on him.
It was that damn dog.
Agh. Even for him, this level of pain was a bit much. Not enjoyable. Disorienting. Excruciating, actually.
Then it was gone. His mind relaxed. Phew.
She’d relented.
“A quaint trick,” said the sister. “But you will need to do better than that, Little Fool.”
Huh. No effect? Unlikely. She wouldn’t have canceled her attack if that were the case. She was just putting on a brave face, trying to maintain her ego.
Good. He didn’t want this to be too--
Something else stole his attention. A sudden influx of intel from the Roberts on the western edge of the compound. They were engaged in battle autonomously.
Intruders.
“Ohoho!” said the sister, sounding suddenly quite pleased. “Finally noticed, have you?! The truth of the matter is that there is little I can do to you from this distant position. But a distraction was very much doable.”
Irritating.
A violent tremor arrived, freeing dust from the ceiling. He had a decision to make. Did he really need to go handle these intruders himself? The Roberts could handle almost anything on their own. So who--?
“Apologies for the use of trickery,” said Rasalased. “I do hope you do not die this day, Young Demon. There is more I would speak with you about.”
“Perhaps you will find these new opponents entertaining,” said the sister. “I suspect, however, that you already know enough about them to make you suitably nervous.”
What was she--?
Two of the Roberts just went offline at once. And more information was arriving. So much incoming data. Tough to parse through it all like this. The Roberts were swarming. Gathering intel en masse. And attacking. They needed guidance, though. More advanced and specific orders.
Uh-oh. Some of the intruders had already penetrated quite deep into the facility. Nearing the Vanguardian captives.
Couldn’t allow that, now could he? He started giving them new orders as he moved to personally intercept.
Who the heck had managed all this, anyway? Sure, he’d been distracted, but not for that long. This timing was quite suspicious.
And those silhouettes in the camera footage.
Ah.
One of them, at least, was very obvious. And from it, he could infer the others.
But the obvious one was the most problematic, he knew. He’d spent quite some time trying to learn more about that blasted creature after his encounter with it at Bellvine. Much of that battle had been hazy in his mind, but he’d remembered enough for it to leave a lasting impression on him.
It was that damn dog.
Monday, June 12, 2023
Page 3334
The thing about psychics was that they were frequently overconfident, likely because they associated their intellect with their psychic prowess--and there was perhaps nothing in the world more intoxicating to one’s ego than the feeling of being intelligent.
But Morgunov had come to believe that intelligence and psychic abilities were, in fact, not directly related to one another. For example, psychics never seemed to realize that when they bridged their minds with his own, they were exposing themselves to a return signal.
And what was even worse for them, was that it was also possible to amplify said signal. Much like feedback from a microphone, the signal could be captured, made stronger, and then sent back to whence it came. That, in turn, would create a positive gain loop, amplifying the signal again and again, as fast as synapses could fire in the brain.
Of course, this was a bit dangerous on his end, too. The rapid amplification of the psychic signal would quickly feel like a splitting headache, soon followed by a knife in the brain, and then ultimately, a combusted skull. Unless, that was, the psychic realized what was happening and severed the link in time, which they usually did.
So it was a matter of the physical endurance of one’s brain. And as a servant with ample passive soul defenses on his side, Morgunov was typically able to come out on top during such exchanges.
He couldn’t be sure how this so-called Primordial lady would fare, but he intended to find out.
The reversal was a simple enough matter to execute. Well, simple after years of practice, at least. He merely had to empty his mind of all thoughts--admittedly not his strong suit--and then, while maintaining that emptiness, find the opening through which the signal was arriving.
He found it best to imagine the emptiness of his mind to be filling up with flammable gas. Then he could easily discover where the gas was coming from. A conceptual breach.
From there, he would imagine a spark, and the gas would ignite, blowing back through the hole.
Ah, it was already working. He could feel the headache coming on. Hoo boy, what a toughie.
This kind of pain was impossible to numb, too, for it was not merely physical. Bool’s half of the mind would be feeling it just as much as his half, if not more, which was why the reaper didn’t care for this technique.
But Morgunov had come to believe that intelligence and psychic abilities were, in fact, not directly related to one another. For example, psychics never seemed to realize that when they bridged their minds with his own, they were exposing themselves to a return signal.
And what was even worse for them, was that it was also possible to amplify said signal. Much like feedback from a microphone, the signal could be captured, made stronger, and then sent back to whence it came. That, in turn, would create a positive gain loop, amplifying the signal again and again, as fast as synapses could fire in the brain.
Of course, this was a bit dangerous on his end, too. The rapid amplification of the psychic signal would quickly feel like a splitting headache, soon followed by a knife in the brain, and then ultimately, a combusted skull. Unless, that was, the psychic realized what was happening and severed the link in time, which they usually did.
So it was a matter of the physical endurance of one’s brain. And as a servant with ample passive soul defenses on his side, Morgunov was typically able to come out on top during such exchanges.
He couldn’t be sure how this so-called Primordial lady would fare, but he intended to find out.
The reversal was a simple enough matter to execute. Well, simple after years of practice, at least. He merely had to empty his mind of all thoughts--admittedly not his strong suit--and then, while maintaining that emptiness, find the opening through which the signal was arriving.
He found it best to imagine the emptiness of his mind to be filling up with flammable gas. Then he could easily discover where the gas was coming from. A conceptual breach.
From there, he would imagine a spark, and the gas would ignite, blowing back through the hole.
Ah, it was already working. He could feel the headache coming on. Hoo boy, what a toughie.
This kind of pain was impossible to numb, too, for it was not merely physical. Bool’s half of the mind would be feeling it just as much as his half, if not more, which was why the reaper didn’t care for this technique.
Saturday, June 10, 2023
Alright, I needed a little more time than I thought
Sorry about that, guys and gals. I'll have a new page for you on the 12th, at midnight PST.
Monday, June 5, 2023
Okay, I'ma take a 3-day break
Sleep schedule's messed up, and I've gotten outta my rhythm. So I'm just gonna take care of some stuff, then get back into it. Thanks for your patience, guys.
On another note: 3333 pages. That's pretty cool, eh? 'slotta pages.
On another note: 3333 pages. That's pretty cool, eh? 'slotta pages.
Page 3333
It was an important part of being human, he’d come to believe. Those rare few who couldn’t feel it were missing out.
There was a popular sentiment that those who know pain are less inclined to inflict it upon others. And in Morgunov’s experience, that was true.
But it was also true that such experiences granted one the knowledge of where things hurt most. And from there, malicious intent could truly run rampant.
Knowledge was a funny thing. So many people throughout history liked to espouse the enormous benefits of education, of a learned populace, of knowledge in all its many forms dispelling ignorance around the world. And yet, Morgunov had increasingly come to believe that knowledge was also a prerequisite for evil to exist.
You could not intentionally hurt someone if you didn’t know where to strike.
And perhaps, in a similar vein, evil was a prerequisite for the advancement of knowledge. Because ultimately, more knowledge would bring about more evil.
That was all very reductionistic, of course, but it was fun to think in simplified terms, from time to time. And necessary, too. He’d seen many intelligent people get so lost in their own sophisticated ideas that they began to overlook the obvious. He didn’t want to be like that.
Which was why this attack from this so-called Primordial was interesting to him. Such a simplistic approach. Inflicting pain. No doubt, it was meant to be a test. She wanted to see how well he could take it. And once she’d gathered that knowledge, she would likely try something more advanced.
Unfortunately for her, she’d chosen her first attempt poorly. While Morgunov wasn’t entirely certain that his next trick was going to work on her in the same way that it had worked on numerous powerful psychics, he had a pretty strong feeling that she wasn’t going to be having a very fun time, here in a second.
He just wanted to enjoy the pain for a moment longer, first. Mmm.
Okay, that was enough.
He concentrated.
As with many things in this world, it was mind over matter. Honed control over many years of meditation. Naturally, he’d gotten quite bored of the typical meditations that reapers were always asking of their servants, so when he’d started looking into various ways that he could spice things up, he’d been quite the happy camper for many decades thereafter.
There was a popular sentiment that those who know pain are less inclined to inflict it upon others. And in Morgunov’s experience, that was true.
But it was also true that such experiences granted one the knowledge of where things hurt most. And from there, malicious intent could truly run rampant.
Knowledge was a funny thing. So many people throughout history liked to espouse the enormous benefits of education, of a learned populace, of knowledge in all its many forms dispelling ignorance around the world. And yet, Morgunov had increasingly come to believe that knowledge was also a prerequisite for evil to exist.
You could not intentionally hurt someone if you didn’t know where to strike.
And perhaps, in a similar vein, evil was a prerequisite for the advancement of knowledge. Because ultimately, more knowledge would bring about more evil.
That was all very reductionistic, of course, but it was fun to think in simplified terms, from time to time. And necessary, too. He’d seen many intelligent people get so lost in their own sophisticated ideas that they began to overlook the obvious. He didn’t want to be like that.
Which was why this attack from this so-called Primordial was interesting to him. Such a simplistic approach. Inflicting pain. No doubt, it was meant to be a test. She wanted to see how well he could take it. And once she’d gathered that knowledge, she would likely try something more advanced.
Unfortunately for her, she’d chosen her first attempt poorly. While Morgunov wasn’t entirely certain that his next trick was going to work on her in the same way that it had worked on numerous powerful psychics, he had a pretty strong feeling that she wasn’t going to be having a very fun time, here in a second.
He just wanted to enjoy the pain for a moment longer, first. Mmm.
Okay, that was enough.
He concentrated.
As with many things in this world, it was mind over matter. Honed control over many years of meditation. Naturally, he’d gotten quite bored of the typical meditations that reapers were always asking of their servants, so when he’d started looking into various ways that he could spice things up, he’d been quite the happy camper for many decades thereafter.
Okay, I don't need extra time again. I just want it.
I'M BEING GREEDY, AND NO ONE CAN SOTP ME. I'll have the page up tomorrow at noon again. Also, how was your day? In fact, how is your tomorrow, too? Tell me. I demand to know.
Sunday, June 4, 2023
Page 3332
“And what of your plans?” asked Rasalased. “You wished to meet a Primordial, no? What will you do now that you have accomplished your goal?”
Morgunov tittered. “Still not sure I believe that I’ve really accomplished it. I need some type of confirmation that your big sis is really one of ‘em. Do either of you have a means of proving it?”
“If I did,” said the sister, “why would I bother providing it? Your satisfaction makes no difference to me.”
“Aw, c’mon. Don’t be stingy, now. You want the little Lion to keep on breathin’, don’tcha? I’d say that’s plenty reason to be cooperative.”
“You should be more concerned about your own breathing,” she said. “You act like you have full control over your circumstances, when you do not.”
Aha. Finally, they were getting down to it. Morgunov had been wondering when they would start to bare their fangs.
Since the beginning of the conversation, he’d been sending thoughts to his Roberts. He had hundreds of them scattered around the compound, patrolling the grounds, feeding him information via the network of biochips in his brain.
He’d been making more of the Roberts close in, surrounding the forge’s chamber. By now, they were above, below, and all around, waiting to break through the ceiling, floors, and walls the instant he told them to.
“Well, if you’re gonna talk big, I hope you’ve got some means of backing it up,” said Morgunov. “I mean, I’ve allowed you to wrap yourself around me like an angry, little rope via these tattoos, so c’mon. If you think can do somethin’ to me, then do somethin’ already!”
“Let us not be--” tried Rasalased.
The world went white.
Crushing pressure arrived, all over his body but especially on his head. He could feel the intent behind. The desire to render him to dust. To put him in his place.
And it certainly hurt. Morgunov could not deny that. He sensed Bool wanting to numb his body, but he stayed the reaper’s hand. Eheh. Just because he’d been letting the reaper pitch in for a change didn’t meant that he was about to allow Bool to do whatever he wanted.
Because pain was an interesting thing. He didn’t get to feel it very often, anymore. There’d been a time, of course, when he’d greatly feared pain and tried to avoid at all costs. But over the years, as he’d aged and aged, as boredom had started to become his fiercest enemy, he’d developed a certain nostalgic fondness for pain.
Morgunov tittered. “Still not sure I believe that I’ve really accomplished it. I need some type of confirmation that your big sis is really one of ‘em. Do either of you have a means of proving it?”
“If I did,” said the sister, “why would I bother providing it? Your satisfaction makes no difference to me.”
“Aw, c’mon. Don’t be stingy, now. You want the little Lion to keep on breathin’, don’tcha? I’d say that’s plenty reason to be cooperative.”
“You should be more concerned about your own breathing,” she said. “You act like you have full control over your circumstances, when you do not.”
Aha. Finally, they were getting down to it. Morgunov had been wondering when they would start to bare their fangs.
Since the beginning of the conversation, he’d been sending thoughts to his Roberts. He had hundreds of them scattered around the compound, patrolling the grounds, feeding him information via the network of biochips in his brain.
He’d been making more of the Roberts close in, surrounding the forge’s chamber. By now, they were above, below, and all around, waiting to break through the ceiling, floors, and walls the instant he told them to.
“Well, if you’re gonna talk big, I hope you’ve got some means of backing it up,” said Morgunov. “I mean, I’ve allowed you to wrap yourself around me like an angry, little rope via these tattoos, so c’mon. If you think can do somethin’ to me, then do somethin’ already!”
“Let us not be--” tried Rasalased.
The world went white.
Crushing pressure arrived, all over his body but especially on his head. He could feel the intent behind. The desire to render him to dust. To put him in his place.
And it certainly hurt. Morgunov could not deny that. He sensed Bool wanting to numb his body, but he stayed the reaper’s hand. Eheh. Just because he’d been letting the reaper pitch in for a change didn’t meant that he was about to allow Bool to do whatever he wanted.
Because pain was an interesting thing. He didn’t get to feel it very often, anymore. There’d been a time, of course, when he’d greatly feared pain and tried to avoid at all costs. But over the years, as he’d aged and aged, as boredom had started to become his fiercest enemy, he’d developed a certain nostalgic fondness for pain.
Saturday, June 3, 2023
Page 3331
It was supposed to be both the source and ultimate destination of all souls and ardor, which may have been one and the same thing. The Current was theorized to connect countless realms where life existed--and more. Many scholars throughout history believed that, wherever a reaper ferried a deceased soul to, the Current would eventually carry that same soul--or the energy that composed that soul, perhaps--back into this world.
An eternally recurring flow of imaginary power. Unfathomable in its strength and potential.
Morgunov, therefore, understood what Rasalased was getting at.
The ancient mythical beasts of the Sandlords could theoretically reside within a plane of nonexistence. And someone, therefore, might be able to ride the Infinite Current to such a place and meet or otherwise bear witness to them.
A truly ludicrous plan, filled with absurd danger. The Infinite Current, if it did indeed exist, would not be some leisurely route through scenic territory. The Current was supposed to be a force of literally unparalleled soul power and ardor. To endure through the Current, having your own soul constantly pummeled by such a force, while also attempting to guide your own path through it...?
Morgunov was not sure he could imagine a more impossible feat.
But perhaps that impossibility was precisely what made the plan worthy of a god’s time.
He had to learn more.
“What do you want with the arasaba, exactly?” asked Morgunov.
“I believe they may be the progenitors of my kin,” said Rasalased. “And if so, then I must learn more of them.”
“Ahhh,” said Morgunov. “You want their power.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
The emperor snorted, then laughed. “Yes, I’m sure your interest in them is purely academic. Just like me!”
“If the arasaba hold answers regarding the origins of my kin, then they may also hold answers regarding the origins of all mankind.”
Morgunov bobbed his head. “Could be. But is that really so mysterious to you? If your surly sister here is truly a Primoridal like she claims, then she should have plenty of juicy answers about all sorts of things, no?”
“Even if that were so,” said Rasalased, “I would not want her to provide them. There comes a point where one should not rely on the knowledge and experiences of another in order to continue growing. One must seek the truth for oneself.”
At that, Morgunov couldn’t help smiling. “A man after my own heart.”
An eternally recurring flow of imaginary power. Unfathomable in its strength and potential.
Morgunov, therefore, understood what Rasalased was getting at.
The ancient mythical beasts of the Sandlords could theoretically reside within a plane of nonexistence. And someone, therefore, might be able to ride the Infinite Current to such a place and meet or otherwise bear witness to them.
A truly ludicrous plan, filled with absurd danger. The Infinite Current, if it did indeed exist, would not be some leisurely route through scenic territory. The Current was supposed to be a force of literally unparalleled soul power and ardor. To endure through the Current, having your own soul constantly pummeled by such a force, while also attempting to guide your own path through it...?
Morgunov was not sure he could imagine a more impossible feat.
But perhaps that impossibility was precisely what made the plan worthy of a god’s time.
He had to learn more.
“What do you want with the arasaba, exactly?” asked Morgunov.
“I believe they may be the progenitors of my kin,” said Rasalased. “And if so, then I must learn more of them.”
“Ahhh,” said Morgunov. “You want their power.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
The emperor snorted, then laughed. “Yes, I’m sure your interest in them is purely academic. Just like me!”
“If the arasaba hold answers regarding the origins of my kin, then they may also hold answers regarding the origins of all mankind.”
Morgunov bobbed his head. “Could be. But is that really so mysterious to you? If your surly sister here is truly a Primoridal like she claims, then she should have plenty of juicy answers about all sorts of things, no?”
“Even if that were so,” said Rasalased, “I would not want her to provide them. There comes a point where one should not rely on the knowledge and experiences of another in order to continue growing. One must seek the truth for oneself.”
At that, Morgunov couldn’t help smiling. “A man after my own heart.”
Next page will go up at noon PST
Bit more time. Have a nice night/day. Take care of yourselves. OR ELSE, DAMN YOU.
Friday, June 2, 2023
Page 3330
It had been but a glimpse, but now, with the added context of Rasalased being interested in this place, perhaps that was enough to interpret more.
Hmm. There were a few emotions and sensations associated with the glimpse. Longing. Satisfaction. Hunger. Pride. But most of all, thirst.
And there was an image, too.
A vast, golden landscape--not only sand but great pillars, too.
Pillars of quartz, unless he was mistaken.
Quite similar to the great pillar that the Pit had only just showed him.
Ooh. Morgunov had to admit: that was a little worrisome. That vision had most certainly been a warning, and here he now was, seeing it again, only this time without the accompanying sense of urgency.
“Yes,” Morgunov finally answered. “I have heard the name. What is your interest in it?” He had a fairly good guess, of course, but there was no point in jumping to conclusions when he could simply ask.
“I seek the arasaba,” said the Dry God.
Morgunov blinked. “Oh! Your mythical lion beasts! You actually believe in them? Your descendants certainly didn’t seem to, last I asked.”
“It is not a question of belief. In the realms beyond, all can be made or unmade. The impossible made possible. But you must already know this, surely.”
“Eheh. I know of the claim, yes. ‘fraid I’m a bit of a skeptic on that front, though. Only the Void could possess the kind of infinite power you’re describing. And the other realms are not of the Void.”
“Some are,” said Rasalased. “Those in which souls reside must belong to the Infinite Current, which in your interpretation would be an aspect of the Void, no?”
Now there was a term he hadn’t heard in a while.
“The Infinite Current...” Morgunov stroked his thin beard as he thought it over.
The Void, supposedly, had many aspects to it. More than were even knowable, perhaps. More than were worth keeping track of, certainly. Such was to be expected when trying to conceptualize the infinite infinities of nonexistence.
But two of the more popular aspects were Chaos and the Infinite Current.
Chaos was supposed to be the nexus point of all creative thought, perhaps even of all creation itself. A theoretical domain of mayhem, madness, genius, and every conceivable idea.
It was also Morgunov’s personal favorite aspect, as it so happened.
The Infinite Current, however, was something a bit different. The Great River of Souls, was another name for it.
Hmm. There were a few emotions and sensations associated with the glimpse. Longing. Satisfaction. Hunger. Pride. But most of all, thirst.
And there was an image, too.
A vast, golden landscape--not only sand but great pillars, too.
Pillars of quartz, unless he was mistaken.
Quite similar to the great pillar that the Pit had only just showed him.
Ooh. Morgunov had to admit: that was a little worrisome. That vision had most certainly been a warning, and here he now was, seeing it again, only this time without the accompanying sense of urgency.
“Yes,” Morgunov finally answered. “I have heard the name. What is your interest in it?” He had a fairly good guess, of course, but there was no point in jumping to conclusions when he could simply ask.
“I seek the arasaba,” said the Dry God.
Morgunov blinked. “Oh! Your mythical lion beasts! You actually believe in them? Your descendants certainly didn’t seem to, last I asked.”
“It is not a question of belief. In the realms beyond, all can be made or unmade. The impossible made possible. But you must already know this, surely.”
“Eheh. I know of the claim, yes. ‘fraid I’m a bit of a skeptic on that front, though. Only the Void could possess the kind of infinite power you’re describing. And the other realms are not of the Void.”
“Some are,” said Rasalased. “Those in which souls reside must belong to the Infinite Current, which in your interpretation would be an aspect of the Void, no?”
Now there was a term he hadn’t heard in a while.
“The Infinite Current...” Morgunov stroked his thin beard as he thought it over.
The Void, supposedly, had many aspects to it. More than were even knowable, perhaps. More than were worth keeping track of, certainly. Such was to be expected when trying to conceptualize the infinite infinities of nonexistence.
But two of the more popular aspects were Chaos and the Infinite Current.
Chaos was supposed to be the nexus point of all creative thought, perhaps even of all creation itself. A theoretical domain of mayhem, madness, genius, and every conceivable idea.
It was also Morgunov’s personal favorite aspect, as it so happened.
The Infinite Current, however, was something a bit different. The Great River of Souls, was another name for it.
Thursday, June 1, 2023
Page 3329
“But you have visited other realms, at least through mental projection,” said Rasalased.
“Yep,” said Morgunov. “Perhaps it was even similar to what the two of you are doing right now. Where are your corporeal forms currently, hmm? Do you even have those, anymore? Or have you supposedly ‘ascended beyond the need for them,’ as some of the old stories claim?”
“Indeed, we left them behind long ago,” said the sister.
“Hmmmmmmm,” mused Morgunov. “I wonder about that. Certainly, it would be quite the convenient thing to make others believe, wouldn’t it? This idea that you are now totally intangible beings, no longer vulnerable in physical ways. That way, you don’t have to worry about some maniac getting it into his head that he might be able to hunt down your little, fleshy bodies and capture them. Or kill them. Or otherwise use them against you, eh?”
“Believe what you will. It matters not.”
“Eheheh. So aloof!”
“Tell me,” interjected Rasalased. “During your travels among other realms, did you ever hear of a place called Saharazeem?”
The Great Desert?
Interesting. Morgunov had to think back. It was true that he’d seen quite a lot of the realms beyond this one, particularly during that one time at Bellvine. But even now, a lot of the things he’d witnessed there were still jumbled or foggy, hardly better than nonsense.
He’d spent considerable time in the immediately following years trying to parse through all of that information, but he’d only had a modest degree of success with the effort. Largely, it had come down to simply journaling everything that he could remember and then trying to interpret patterns from the mess. Ideas, emotions, visions, sensations, names, and places.
It had seemed an endless ocean, at the time. The great and vast Void.
One of the most enjoyable experiences of his life, truth be told. But so confusing in retrospect, too. And above all, he despised being confused.
Mysteries were one thing. Discovering secrets, uncovering truth--those were wonderful. But merely being mixed up and dumbfounded? No. Absolutely not.
The name, at least, was familiar to him. He just needed to recall if it was from that time or if he’d simply read it somewhere.
Bool’s assistance was appreciated here. Ehehe. The reaper hadn’t felt this useful in eons. It reminded Morgunov of more innocent times, when he’d relied on the reaper for almost everything.
Ah, there it was.
Yes.
Saharazeem. It was from Bellvine.
“Yep,” said Morgunov. “Perhaps it was even similar to what the two of you are doing right now. Where are your corporeal forms currently, hmm? Do you even have those, anymore? Or have you supposedly ‘ascended beyond the need for them,’ as some of the old stories claim?”
“Indeed, we left them behind long ago,” said the sister.
“Hmmmmmmm,” mused Morgunov. “I wonder about that. Certainly, it would be quite the convenient thing to make others believe, wouldn’t it? This idea that you are now totally intangible beings, no longer vulnerable in physical ways. That way, you don’t have to worry about some maniac getting it into his head that he might be able to hunt down your little, fleshy bodies and capture them. Or kill them. Or otherwise use them against you, eh?”
“Believe what you will. It matters not.”
“Eheheh. So aloof!”
“Tell me,” interjected Rasalased. “During your travels among other realms, did you ever hear of a place called Saharazeem?”
The Great Desert?
Interesting. Morgunov had to think back. It was true that he’d seen quite a lot of the realms beyond this one, particularly during that one time at Bellvine. But even now, a lot of the things he’d witnessed there were still jumbled or foggy, hardly better than nonsense.
He’d spent considerable time in the immediately following years trying to parse through all of that information, but he’d only had a modest degree of success with the effort. Largely, it had come down to simply journaling everything that he could remember and then trying to interpret patterns from the mess. Ideas, emotions, visions, sensations, names, and places.
It had seemed an endless ocean, at the time. The great and vast Void.
One of the most enjoyable experiences of his life, truth be told. But so confusing in retrospect, too. And above all, he despised being confused.
Mysteries were one thing. Discovering secrets, uncovering truth--those were wonderful. But merely being mixed up and dumbfounded? No. Absolutely not.
The name, at least, was familiar to him. He just needed to recall if it was from that time or if he’d simply read it somewhere.
Bool’s assistance was appreciated here. Ehehe. The reaper hadn’t felt this useful in eons. It reminded Morgunov of more innocent times, when he’d relied on the reaper for almost everything.
Ah, there it was.
Yes.
Saharazeem. It was from Bellvine.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)