Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)Grimsage Matt
Star
- Joined
- Feb 26, 2014
- Location
- Toronto Canada
Okay, so I've been gone for a while. But, coming back, I've been thinking of something that has been in the works for a while, at least story-wise. I will also admit, to being a touch.... tired with the usual fantasy fare? Though, in the story to come, elements of myth and legend still thunder and roar.....
Three hundred years ago, the people of this world were a mighty one, grasping the secrets of the cosmos in out hands. Our ancestors harnessed the primordial powers of electricity, gravity and the atom, creating wondrous cities of metal, crystal and light where there was but once sand. They gazed to the stars, and set forth to stake their dominion among them.
For a time, there was peace, the calm before the storm, even as citadels were built, weapons created, spies marshaled, and the hosts of the world, able to wage war across land, sky and sea, prepared. Often, they spoke of protection, of being shields that kept their people safe under a bastion of bristling destruction. Others called for war to spark, for change and blood. And blighting the moon itself, a star briefly bloomed.
Oh, the sagas of the decades to follow are many, but tis was one nation, one faction in this age of total war, that would alter the scope and scale of the human endeavor. Ware the frozen south children of the earth, for who knows what The Grim, who sculpted flesh like a potter shaped clay, have left slumbering in long forgotten vaults?
They entered the fray of northern powers but rarely my friends, but brought with them monsters and abominations, creatures born of mad science. And they themselves were little better. Warped, by their own hand and choice, to feel no restraint, shame or pity, they were unshackled from morality and ethics, lunatic in their understanding of reality.
Eventually, most of the earth, and the near heavens, came against them in wrath, even as they prepared for their exodus. Barely did the forces of the earth clash with the hidden horrors, dredged from containment vaults. Thousands fell before those gibbering monstrosities, even as they managed to escape the thunderbolts and burning scorn of the celestial host.
For a time, they dwelled on the red world, Mars by ancient reckoning, only for a decade. But when the lords of America and Russia, of The Celestial Alliance came against their buried holdings, where creatures that were barely understandable tore apart their soldiers. At night, creatures came from below, choking minds and life, and making any gains as nothing. But, for all their fury, for all their might, they had barely missed the fleeing host, as they made their journey outwards, and out of common knowledge.
Two centuries later, when the inner words where divided between these three powers, they came to an understanding, to finish off the final foe that existed outside of their dominion. They rallied a fleet of void ships, each baring the power to ravage worlds, and all knowing that in the aftermath, they would turn their destructive fury on the others.
Yet, as the crossed the gates of the belt, they came across the horrors those mad things created in their sojourns, far from sanity, and further still from reality! Monsters forged from concepts, feelings and ideas, fortress ships torn from dream and armed with nightmare, nothing in that dark domain was real, and yet it existed, the cosmos itself reeling and groaning under the insanity of their Conceptual Engineering.
Ships, made from gleaming metal, where torn apart from tentacled behemoths, pensile murder wrapped around a core of fathomless hunger and fury, cloaked in indifference and apathy, clad in armor of will. Slipping into the citadels of glorious achievement, where specters of anger, hate and murder, wrapped in a cloying cloak of fear and terror, primal and visceral, slicing through defenses in moments of utter horror, as death came for them.
And yet, as they launched their counter attack, the smiths, the masters never being sighted, but heard in the laughter, amusement and madness warring, even as the words psychics wept blood, as a chorus of the damned and dying came close, it's mere presence a fetid, decaying patch of oil, lapping about them, even as jagged, rusted scrap scraped against them.
And so they fell on the worlds, those creatures of Darkness, Finality, and Death, gaping holes in reality, as to see them was to abandon rationality in a material universe, for they were gaping holes in existence, for it would not suffer their presence, even as they stalked it's bones!
It was but a single night my friends. But what was night, when to them darkness was an idea, a concept they would and could unleash at will? Hope came, as the dawn broke, and they were nowhere to be found. But make no mistake! They remain outside, laughing among the stars, and we must live on the earth. Survival is all that is left to us.
Three hundred years ago, the people of this world were a mighty one, grasping the secrets of the cosmos in out hands. Our ancestors harnessed the primordial powers of electricity, gravity and the atom, creating wondrous cities of metal, crystal and light where there was but once sand. They gazed to the stars, and set forth to stake their dominion among them.
For a time, there was peace, the calm before the storm, even as citadels were built, weapons created, spies marshaled, and the hosts of the world, able to wage war across land, sky and sea, prepared. Often, they spoke of protection, of being shields that kept their people safe under a bastion of bristling destruction. Others called for war to spark, for change and blood. And blighting the moon itself, a star briefly bloomed.
Oh, the sagas of the decades to follow are many, but tis was one nation, one faction in this age of total war, that would alter the scope and scale of the human endeavor. Ware the frozen south children of the earth, for who knows what The Grim, who sculpted flesh like a potter shaped clay, have left slumbering in long forgotten vaults?
They entered the fray of northern powers but rarely my friends, but brought with them monsters and abominations, creatures born of mad science. And they themselves were little better. Warped, by their own hand and choice, to feel no restraint, shame or pity, they were unshackled from morality and ethics, lunatic in their understanding of reality.
Eventually, most of the earth, and the near heavens, came against them in wrath, even as they prepared for their exodus. Barely did the forces of the earth clash with the hidden horrors, dredged from containment vaults. Thousands fell before those gibbering monstrosities, even as they managed to escape the thunderbolts and burning scorn of the celestial host.
For a time, they dwelled on the red world, Mars by ancient reckoning, only for a decade. But when the lords of America and Russia, of The Celestial Alliance came against their buried holdings, where creatures that were barely understandable tore apart their soldiers. At night, creatures came from below, choking minds and life, and making any gains as nothing. But, for all their fury, for all their might, they had barely missed the fleeing host, as they made their journey outwards, and out of common knowledge.
Two centuries later, when the inner words where divided between these three powers, they came to an understanding, to finish off the final foe that existed outside of their dominion. They rallied a fleet of void ships, each baring the power to ravage worlds, and all knowing that in the aftermath, they would turn their destructive fury on the others.
Yet, as the crossed the gates of the belt, they came across the horrors those mad things created in their sojourns, far from sanity, and further still from reality! Monsters forged from concepts, feelings and ideas, fortress ships torn from dream and armed with nightmare, nothing in that dark domain was real, and yet it existed, the cosmos itself reeling and groaning under the insanity of their Conceptual Engineering.
Ships, made from gleaming metal, where torn apart from tentacled behemoths, pensile murder wrapped around a core of fathomless hunger and fury, cloaked in indifference and apathy, clad in armor of will. Slipping into the citadels of glorious achievement, where specters of anger, hate and murder, wrapped in a cloying cloak of fear and terror, primal and visceral, slicing through defenses in moments of utter horror, as death came for them.
And yet, as they launched their counter attack, the smiths, the masters never being sighted, but heard in the laughter, amusement and madness warring, even as the words psychics wept blood, as a chorus of the damned and dying came close, it's mere presence a fetid, decaying patch of oil, lapping about them, even as jagged, rusted scrap scraped against them.
And so they fell on the worlds, those creatures of Darkness, Finality, and Death, gaping holes in reality, as to see them was to abandon rationality in a material universe, for they were gaping holes in existence, for it would not suffer their presence, even as they stalked it's bones!
It was but a single night my friends. But what was night, when to them darkness was an idea, a concept they would and could unleash at will? Hope came, as the dawn broke, and they were nowhere to be found. But make no mistake! They remain outside, laughing among the stars, and we must live on the earth. Survival is all that is left to us.
