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Prosak
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Jan 31, 2013
The Bane
~ Of The Night
What are we... Well it began may 8th, 2001... It has been 12 years since dark day. The coming of night, into this world. Before then our kind were few, and far between. Hiding in shadows, or plain sight. Hiding our true forms, from unsuspecting mortals. A Neophyte could
expect to be recognized and helped by an older Nightbane. Not
any longer. So many of us have now appeared that there is little
hope to educate them personally; not like the old days. For this
reason, I am consigning these documents to the wondrous electronic
network where information flows as freely as water. My
younger friends will make copies everywhere, hoping that they will reach those in need. ....
Do you, know WHAT, you are...? Well, allow me, to inform you.
expect to be recognized and helped by an older Nightbane. Not
any longer. So many of us have now appeared that there is little
hope to educate them personally; not like the old days. For this
reason, I am consigning these documents to the wondrous electronic
network where information flows as freely as water. My
younger friends will make copies everywhere, hoping that they will reach those in need. ....
Do you, know WHAT, you are...? Well, allow me, to inform you.
The Becoming
You were — you thought you were — a normal person, just
one more among the huddled masses of Humankind. Until the
time of the Becoming. One day, your shape shifted and you became
the stuff of nightmares and forgotten horrors. Maybe your
form became animal-like, or grotesquely deformed, or some
twisted fantasy of flesh and scrap metal. That day, your life
changed forever.
The Becoming comes at different times for each Nightbane.
For most, it occurs in the years spanning the time when you are
no longer a child, yet not fully an adult. Sometimes, it occurs at
a time of need — an accident victim, pinned beneath a carriage
(or a car); a terrified child, facing death at the hands of a
stranger; or a soldier at war, seeing the enemy coming over the
barbed wire. More often, it happens at night, sometimes during
your sleep (did Kafka know about us when he wrote Metamorphosis!
I think he might have). Unlucky ones change in front of
others and are branded monsters and freaks. In the old times,
they were burned as witches or slain as demons. In the years before
Dark Day, they were taken away by unsmiling men in dark
suits and glasses, never to be seen again. Today, they risk far
worse. As to the rest — you all know the panic, the disbelief, the
creeping insanity that comes when you see in the mirror the face
of a stranger, an inhuman, misshapen stranger at that. Many a
Nightbane has been overcome with madness, going off in a murderous
rampage or taking his own life. The rest have managed to
cope, and soon afterwards made an important discovery.
The Becoming is not absolute. One can shift back to one's
original, human shape. Most of us do so and try to forget what
happened. But sooner or later, the Morphus will manifest again,
in times of need, or when the power of that form tempts us into
using it. Some of us choose to embrace our monstrous form and
become true monsters, preying on the helpless until we are destroyed
one more among the huddled masses of Humankind. Until the
time of the Becoming. One day, your shape shifted and you became
the stuff of nightmares and forgotten horrors. Maybe your
form became animal-like, or grotesquely deformed, or some
twisted fantasy of flesh and scrap metal. That day, your life
changed forever.
The Becoming comes at different times for each Nightbane.
For most, it occurs in the years spanning the time when you are
no longer a child, yet not fully an adult. Sometimes, it occurs at
a time of need — an accident victim, pinned beneath a carriage
(or a car); a terrified child, facing death at the hands of a
stranger; or a soldier at war, seeing the enemy coming over the
barbed wire. More often, it happens at night, sometimes during
your sleep (did Kafka know about us when he wrote Metamorphosis!
I think he might have). Unlucky ones change in front of
others and are branded monsters and freaks. In the old times,
they were burned as witches or slain as demons. In the years before
Dark Day, they were taken away by unsmiling men in dark
suits and glasses, never to be seen again. Today, they risk far
worse. As to the rest — you all know the panic, the disbelief, the
creeping insanity that comes when you see in the mirror the face
of a stranger, an inhuman, misshapen stranger at that. Many a
Nightbane has been overcome with madness, going off in a murderous
rampage or taking his own life. The rest have managed to
cope, and soon afterwards made an important discovery.
The Becoming is not absolute. One can shift back to one's
original, human shape. Most of us do so and try to forget what
happened. But sooner or later, the Morphus will manifest again,
in times of need, or when the power of that form tempts us into
using it. Some of us choose to embrace our monstrous form and
become true monsters, preying on the helpless until we are destroyed
Who you Really Are,
~ And the mask, that you ware
All Nightbane are two in one, one mind inhabiting two
shapes. We call the human form the Facade, the Lie, the human
masque we thought was real until our transformation. The other
one, the alien form that you will come to accept as your true
shape, is known as the Morphus. Over the centuries, I have
come to feel that these names are themselves a lie, but they are
convenient labels for something we cannot explain.
Our Facades retain most of the frailties of being human. They
heal faster than a normal human and are highly resistant to normal
maladies like disease, poisons and the elements, but by and
large, they are not invulnerable to all normal dangers. The Morphus
shape, however, is powerful beyond measure. We can rend
flesh, stone and metal with our hands, claws and teeth. We heal
from injury almost as fast as it is inflicted and are impervious to
most disease. In my time, I have fought on after having been
shot multiple times, bayoneted by a dozen terrified men, even after
losing a leg, sheared off by a cannonball. Except for the leg,
all trifling matters — quickly passing discomfort, and even the
leg grew back not long afterwards.
No two Morphus are exactly alike. We are a race of strangers,
each a new surprise to us all. Many of us believe that the Morphus
is a twisted reflection of our lusts and fears, of the good
and evil in our soul. A pure soul, perhaps, would have a Morphus
of perfect beauty; the rest of us wear our flaws and foibles
in the way our flesh is shaped.
Once the Becoming occurs, neither the Facade nor the Morphus
ages as mortals do. At the time of my Becoming, a Pharaoh
ruled in Egypt and my own people hunted wild boar with firehardened
wood spears. Today, I appear to be a man in my early
sixties. We age only a year or two for the passage of every hundred,
maybe even less.
But we are not immortal. We can die, by violence or accident.
Although our Facades are frail and would seem to be our most
vulnerable aspect, we can be killed in Morphus form as well. If
the cannonball that took my leg had hit me in the chest, I would
not be telling you this story. Many a Nightbane has died a horrible
death at the hands of the Roman Catholic Inquisition, for
we healed as we burned, and took a long time to die. Since then,
science has forged chains strong enough to bind us and weapons
powerful enough to kill us. Magic has spells and rituals to imprison
us, harm us, enslave us and finally destroy us.
If you die while wearing the Facade, your body corrupts and
decays like that of any mortal human. If killed as your Morphus,
your shape dissolves in shadows like a mirage, leaving no blood, dust or stain. So perhaps the Morphus is the illusion, and the Facade
real. Or maybe the Morphus, not being from this world,
leaves as soon as our wills are no longer there to force it to remain
shapes. We call the human form the Facade, the Lie, the human
masque we thought was real until our transformation. The other
one, the alien form that you will come to accept as your true
shape, is known as the Morphus. Over the centuries, I have
come to feel that these names are themselves a lie, but they are
convenient labels for something we cannot explain.
Our Facades retain most of the frailties of being human. They
heal faster than a normal human and are highly resistant to normal
maladies like disease, poisons and the elements, but by and
large, they are not invulnerable to all normal dangers. The Morphus
shape, however, is powerful beyond measure. We can rend
flesh, stone and metal with our hands, claws and teeth. We heal
from injury almost as fast as it is inflicted and are impervious to
most disease. In my time, I have fought on after having been
shot multiple times, bayoneted by a dozen terrified men, even after
losing a leg, sheared off by a cannonball. Except for the leg,
all trifling matters — quickly passing discomfort, and even the
leg grew back not long afterwards.
No two Morphus are exactly alike. We are a race of strangers,
each a new surprise to us all. Many of us believe that the Morphus
is a twisted reflection of our lusts and fears, of the good
and evil in our soul. A pure soul, perhaps, would have a Morphus
of perfect beauty; the rest of us wear our flaws and foibles
in the way our flesh is shaped.
Once the Becoming occurs, neither the Facade nor the Morphus
ages as mortals do. At the time of my Becoming, a Pharaoh
ruled in Egypt and my own people hunted wild boar with firehardened
wood spears. Today, I appear to be a man in my early
sixties. We age only a year or two for the passage of every hundred,
maybe even less.
But we are not immortal. We can die, by violence or accident.
Although our Facades are frail and would seem to be our most
vulnerable aspect, we can be killed in Morphus form as well. If
the cannonball that took my leg had hit me in the chest, I would
not be telling you this story. Many a Nightbane has died a horrible
death at the hands of the Roman Catholic Inquisition, for
we healed as we burned, and took a long time to die. Since then,
science has forged chains strong enough to bind us and weapons
powerful enough to kill us. Magic has spells and rituals to imprison
us, harm us, enslave us and finally destroy us.
If you die while wearing the Facade, your body corrupts and
decays like that of any mortal human. If killed as your Morphus,
your shape dissolves in shadows like a mirage, leaving no blood, dust or stain. So perhaps the Morphus is the illusion, and the Facade
real. Or maybe the Morphus, not being from this world,
leaves as soon as our wills are no longer there to force it to remain
Lands Of Night
Over time, we discovered another world, apart from and yet
linked to this one. This land of eternal night lies separated from
the Earth by what we call the Mirrorwall, for mirrors are the
gateway therein. All Nightbane can cross over by stepping
through a mirror. At the other side lies a land where no sun or
stars ever shine. Some of us believe that this is our home, the
place of our birth.
But we are not wanted there.
Beware of the Lands of Night, for the Nightlands are grotesque
mockeries of the cities of Earth. True monsters live
therein, monsters and their victims. Unlike the Nightbane, they
live for destruction and torture and they hunt us down whenever
they find us. They are Hounds that wield cold Darkblades and
Hunters that sweep down on the unwary. They are the minions
of the Ba'al, the Lords of Night, who rule the Nightlands with an
iron fist and hatred for our kind. Still, some of us find reason to
go there. Ancient Artifacts of great power can be found or stolen
in the cities, as well as the answers to many dark questions.
Between the cities lies the Waste, a barren desert where some
of us have tried to make a home. The Waste is a dangerous
place, full of strange monsters and beasts, some of whom belong
to neither world. Yet, it is easier to live in the Waste than in the
cities, although some Nightbane have made their home in both
— but most prefer the empty plains of the Waste to the horrors
of the cities or the dangers of Earth.
linked to this one. This land of eternal night lies separated from
the Earth by what we call the Mirrorwall, for mirrors are the
gateway therein. All Nightbane can cross over by stepping
through a mirror. At the other side lies a land where no sun or
stars ever shine. Some of us believe that this is our home, the
place of our birth.
But we are not wanted there.
Beware of the Lands of Night, for the Nightlands are grotesque
mockeries of the cities of Earth. True monsters live
therein, monsters and their victims. Unlike the Nightbane, they
live for destruction and torture and they hunt us down whenever
they find us. They are Hounds that wield cold Darkblades and
Hunters that sweep down on the unwary. They are the minions
of the Ba'al, the Lords of Night, who rule the Nightlands with an
iron fist and hatred for our kind. Still, some of us find reason to
go there. Ancient Artifacts of great power can be found or stolen
in the cities, as well as the answers to many dark questions.
Between the cities lies the Waste, a barren desert where some
of us have tried to make a home. The Waste is a dangerous
place, full of strange monsters and beasts, some of whom belong
to neither world. Yet, it is easier to live in the Waste than in the
cities, although some Nightbane have made their home in both
— but most prefer the empty plains of the Waste to the horrors
of the cities or the dangers of Earth.
Lords Of The Night
Cruel and heartless are the rulers of the Lands of Night. They
are the Ba'al-ze-neckt, the Lords of Night. I have heard stories
about their origins — but they must wait for another time. Suffice
it to say that they bear Humanity — and our kind — nothing
but hatred and malice. They wish to destroy the works of Man,
to grind us into the dust, enslave us, and then sacrifice us to increase
their power. And I say "us" because, in the eyes of the
Nightlords, we and normal humans are the same, enemies to be
subdued, enslaved and destroyed.
The Ba'al have great powers over the forces of nature, over
cold earth and metal, lightning and fire. They can create avatars,
lesser versions of themselves, and send them out to do their biding.
They are ageless, and perhaps immortal, but they fear the
Nightbane, and from this fear I draw the hope that we may have
the power to destroy them. They are our eternal Enemy.
are the Ba'al-ze-neckt, the Lords of Night. I have heard stories
about their origins — but they must wait for another time. Suffice
it to say that they bear Humanity — and our kind — nothing
but hatred and malice. They wish to destroy the works of Man,
to grind us into the dust, enslave us, and then sacrifice us to increase
their power. And I say "us" because, in the eyes of the
Nightlords, we and normal humans are the same, enemies to be
subdued, enslaved and destroyed.
The Ba'al have great powers over the forces of nature, over
cold earth and metal, lightning and fire. They can create avatars,
lesser versions of themselves, and send them out to do their biding.
They are ageless, and perhaps immortal, but they fear the
Nightbane, and from this fear I draw the hope that we may have
the power to destroy them. They are our eternal Enemy.
Servants Of
~ The Night Lords
The Ba'al have minions, countless hordes of them. Lowest of
all are the Shades of the Living, called Dapple gangers, each the
double of one man or woman in our world. Then come the
Hounds and the Hunters, merciless metal-clad warriors who slay
on command, or for pleasure. Over them rule the Ba'al-Zebul,
the Night Princes, lesser Ba'al with the power of illusion, the
tempters and deceivers of legend. Many strange creatures from
alien worlds also serve the Nightlords, but the most dangerous
are the Ashmedai, the Crawling Horrors, whose swiftly-changing shapes conceal a monstrous form. And then are the Nemtar,
small insects filled with malicious intelligence and able to create
Hollow Men which they ride in like grotesque mounts.
All these, and many more, call the Nightlords their Masters.
Even humans are counted among their throngs. Greedy and cruel
men and women who have pierced the Mirrorwall separating the
two worlds, and have made a pact with a Nightlord, exchanging
their humanity for power. The worst are the Nightpriests, fanatical,
evil beings, dangerous to all.
all are the Shades of the Living, called Dapple gangers, each the
double of one man or woman in our world. Then come the
Hounds and the Hunters, merciless metal-clad warriors who slay
on command, or for pleasure. Over them rule the Ba'al-Zebul,
the Night Princes, lesser Ba'al with the power of illusion, the
tempters and deceivers of legend. Many strange creatures from
alien worlds also serve the Nightlords, but the most dangerous
are the Ashmedai, the Crawling Horrors, whose swiftly-changing shapes conceal a monstrous form. And then are the Nemtar,
small insects filled with malicious intelligence and able to create
Hollow Men which they ride in like grotesque mounts.
All these, and many more, call the Nightlords their Masters.
Even humans are counted among their throngs. Greedy and cruel
men and women who have pierced the Mirrorwall separating the
two worlds, and have made a pact with a Nightlord, exchanging
their humanity for power. The worst are the Nightpriests, fanatical,
evil beings, dangerous to all.
The Invasion
12 year's and a day ago, the skies of the world darkened unnaturally
for an entire day and night. During that time, the Earth became
as unto the Nightlands, and many a Nightbane endured
the Becoming. Dark Day was no accident, no freak of nature. It
was an invasion, an attack led by the Nightlords. They have
struggled to control of all the kingdoms of this world and make
them their own. Now even the land of the free and the home of
the brave is their playground.
The chaos of today's world, the fear and repression and senseless
violence, they are the result of this invasion. Humans must
fight or become victims of merciless monsters, both human and
inhuman. Nightbane must fight or hide, or die at the hands of
these true monsters. Perhaps, humans and .Nightbane can join
forces and battle this common enemy. Perhaps, one day we can
even win. Perhaps.
I look at the dark streets below, and mutter a prayer of hope.
for an entire day and night. During that time, the Earth became
as unto the Nightlands, and many a Nightbane endured
the Becoming. Dark Day was no accident, no freak of nature. It
was an invasion, an attack led by the Nightlords. They have
struggled to control of all the kingdoms of this world and make
them their own. Now even the land of the free and the home of
the brave is their playground.
The chaos of today's world, the fear and repression and senseless
violence, they are the result of this invasion. Humans must
fight or become victims of merciless monsters, both human and
inhuman. Nightbane must fight or hide, or die at the hands of
these true monsters. Perhaps, humans and .Nightbane can join
forces and battle this common enemy. Perhaps, one day we can
even win. Perhaps.
I look at the dark streets below, and mutter a prayer of hope.
