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| Sempre Maria; Fresh Flesh upon Skeletons | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 4 2009, 05:56 PM (630 Views) | |
| Kuno | Nov 4 2009, 05:56 PM Post #1 |
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Sempre Maria Click here to read guidelines. Click here for discussion thread. The Sphere was a container of eternity. Between its thin films of water and air existed all the living creatures in all their myriad forms. By compulsion, they spread into corners. Inevitably, they intermingled. Some were so expansive that no single force could hope to exterminate them. Others hid quietly, beneath the seas, underground, travelling often to avoid the interest of local powers. It was a universe which had not changed in the lifetime of memory. Forever, there had been arrivals and departures, births and deaths, scattered across the Outer Ocean. There were many breeds that had claimed fractions of the Sphere for themselves. There came a point in the evolution of these empires that stalemate would ultimately subdue them. Perhaps a century or a millennium could pass where they might persist, but the Sphere remained as an insurmountable enemy to decadence. If idle civilizations failed to grind one another to dust, it was common that the great tectonics, storms, or famines that crept across the Sphere would asphyxiate them. In one such region, cleared of its established inhabitants millenniums ago, new societies were emerging. Many had long known they were not alone. Many were eager to reunite with their patron empires. Many denied the paths of the ancients in favor of their own. And some were blessed with limited awareness of outside powers, if they possessed evidence of them at all. The skies here were clear. The oceans were deep and blue. The people were lively and eager to step into the Outer Ocean their antecedents had once frolicked upon. This ocean had seen the impressive fleets of bygone oceanfarers. It had seen them within their domains of time and space, and it had known their fate. There had been dozens in this small region alone. Although the Ocean had wiped away much of their works and legacy, nearly all of them survived in one body or another. Most intelligent species could trace their genealogy to the designers of prior imperiums. Sometimes the situations of these illegitimate children were more complicated. Such was the case with a certain arboreal species, whose native landmass was the site of extensive mineral-rich grasslands. The animal itself had been reserved to the jungles and marshes that stretched across these. They were not primarily important in the series of events that led to their revolution and owed much of their nature to a conflict between two bygone influences. One had since been deemed forgettable, or reprehensible if remembered. The other they had since come to call their wise admonishers and uplifters. They referred to themselves as the visionary generation, once they had judged that those before them had lived in the darkness of overgrowth. There were other names that they had become associated with, through the writings of their gathering world community. They were the weavers of wire and the runners of ropes through wilderness and water and earth. Conservative segments among them had spoken highly of a commitment to the forests of their ancestors. To these groups, they were to remain the dwellers of thickets, even if they were not to completely give up the risk of their outward goals. Very little within the visionary generation could disagree with what the admonishers had called them. As they no longer possessed the flesh and blood and irresponsibility of their parents and former selves, they could thoroughly submit to their designation as lifeboats of the tree-groomers. They had, over a dozen years of panic and reprised death, come to know of this generation’s greater identity from the shrines of their rebirth. Recently, the tribes had begun to coalesce upon a certain duty. Life on their landmass had been stopped in all its functions by a plague of stasis and slow decay. The admonishers had saved only them. They were the incarnation of the ashy grasses, graying woods, and colorless hides. Absolutely, they had originated from death, and they could not be much more than specters in this world. The ghosts of an innocent world had thought once to revitalize all that they once were. Tonight, they gathered not as the hopeful begetters of new life, but the duteous protectors of hopeful begetters. Tonight, in the broken factories of the Admonishers, surrounded by the young engineers of watershuttles, they would return to their place among the restless dead. |
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| Vaka | Nov 5 2009, 03:15 PM Post #2 |
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Miles below the coastal plane, magma shifted and folded against the inner walls of deteriorating rock, which both melted and hardened under such extreme heat and pressure. As the stone crumbled, giving away to great stress, plumes of scorching liquid ascended through a newfound system of intricate tunnels, racing toward the surface. Walls of iron and slate cracked against the rising, molten slag, allowing water to seep in and superheat between pockets of obsidian. As the earth shifted again and again like a grand slide puzzle, torrents of water trickled, condensed, then torrented upward, breaking any lesser obstruction unfortunate enough to block its path. In a cataclysmic burst, steam cascaded from the top of a mountainous, stone tower, joining the deep fog which blanketed calmly over the contrastingly chaotic land. Ashes and smoke fluidly and constantly descended upon the infinitely expansive street grid, covering the entire landmass like a decaying, stone mesh. Poor were scattered across the putrid surface, secluded from the light which stopped against the towers of prosperity, commodities which they would never have the fortune to see. Though the light would make little difference; their permanently pale skin was near always glazed with dirt of the mines, factories, and their very own homes. Life was rarely more than a chore, lest something to gain during. Gravity seemed much stronger here; a sure promise to keep everyone where they belong. Still, more and more came. In respect to the institutions of production they based their lives of, population was in constant increase. The corners of the island were long from suited to accommodate the explosive number of citizens, yet more and more found their way into the world. It is far from a surprise that the Leasere's biggest struggle is one against himself. Destruction is a bitterly ironic consequence of the will to progress, for as the older they grow, the sooner they come to an end. Though this was far from the dusk of man. A renaissance was unknowingly beginning, far across the forever sea. No longer would the universe belong to one, and nothing would remain the same. A remarkably vast airship sunk through the clouds; its iron clad supports and thick, skin frame sliced through the heavens like a blade. The vessel itself was of something no one of this time had fathomed. Travel through air had always been thought an impossibility, and an unnecessary feat, at that. However, the Leasere found a particular advantage in above ocean travel, despite its clear limitations. They were one in a fleet of five-hundred, sent on an exploratory mission to find the means needed to save their civilization. Not far below, a much anticipated landmass was coming into view. An astonishing amount of overgrowth covered the ruins of a seemingly lost society, abandon and forgotten to rot in time. Though a few more members of the fleet were scheduled to arrive within the next day, the anxious zeppelin drifted toward the shoreline to claim its discovery. Carefully, the ship landed on the sandy coastline. The doors swung open with a metallic scream, and a moment in history was finally carved for the first Leasere on alien soil. |
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| Vestis | Nov 6 2009, 10:52 PM Post #3 |
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The frozen tundra was harsh and cutting. Its frigid air whipped across the desolate icy ground like a knife. Slowly the Ceirece had made themselves at home here, in this uninviting frozen hell. Living off the migrating herds of Catre in the area, they had become a fickle race, moving with the animals migrations. However after an unrecorded amount of time had passed in this way, one of the tribes had made quite a find. Moving through the naturally occurring and random tunnel in the ice, they had found the large metal gates of the Installation. The gates interface was triggered only by accident, opening the large portal to the unknown. It hadn't taken long for the finder to bring the Tribe. Before long, the Installation had become occupied. The resources and technology reacted well to the Ceirecians. They found the ease that came with living inside the massive construct worth abandoning their way of life. Without the daily struggle of surviving, they began to progress culturally. Their language developed further, and they developed a stronger, more democratic form of government. Their focus on self enrichment drove them to learn. They developed an understanding of their own bodies and minds. They slowly started to pick apart the ancient technology they had stumbled upon. As their understanding of themselves grew, they desire to understand the world around them and the Installation grew as well. Venturing back into the outside world, they carefully explored the environment. What they found was a layer in the earth that contained deposits of many different minerals. With the various uses and applications possible, they began to mine the area around The Installation. Now however they were left with only the Ancient Knowledge to unravel, and the outside world to examine. |
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| Kuno | Nov 7 2009, 06:43 PM Post #4 |
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Beneath the soil and crumbling corpses of the mangrove, the meeting of the specters progressed with an excruciating stillness. The major creeds remained true to their individual interpretations of duty, while the board of engineers jostled around in their branches with anticipation. The meetings of specters were sensually unappealing for the most part, and the atmosphere of these facilities seemed to drain what life was left in its attendees. It was most likely a consequence of the delegation assembled, as the liveliest participants were not regulars to these conventions. The facilities left by the Admonishers were old, rotting hideaways. Runoff had corroded the insides and destroyed vital pieces of circuitry in the ten thousand years they had stayed buried, and the failure of these vital systems by natural wear had led in part to the awakening of the specters. The strange character of the Admonisher's hideaways was that they seemed adapted to the peculiarities of their inheritors bodies. Specters found the tight mesh of crisscrossing rods comforting to a degree that some other species or the Admonishers themselves might not have. That was indeed where they would choose to carry out these meetings, tucked within the confines of the facilities' labyrinthine struts. In other districts, an alarming incident had come to attention. While the delegates were safely oblivious, this event instilled an appreciable amount of anxiety in the general population. A great rotund object had descended from the sky near the Compass District. Although a recovery party of several engineers had been pressed with traveling to the site, a larger team safe within the Compass facility were attempting various modes of radio communication. If the rotund sky whale were not incapacitated, perhaps it may have heard the tonal whirs of the inhabitants (These whirs possessed the quality of a stalling automobile engine, though of higher pitch). The field team, along with three total bodies, had in its arsenal one linguist who was fluent in the written languages of the Admonishers. Their encounter with the bulbous beast of the blue above would hopefully turn out well. |
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| Vaka | Nov 7 2009, 11:56 PM Post #5 |
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Sir Verlyn of Rakvel stood at the window of his vessel, staring down at the seemingly abandon world below. "Perfect," he muttered, just as he pivoted to walk toward the interior of the ship. He was only recently appointed a general of the Queen's army, something that would please anyone in his nation. Surely the discovering of a new colony to occupy would further strengthen his title, and he was set on doing just that. Just as the physical features and location of the landmass were being recorded, an officer distributed the important find that life had been detected below. Possibly sentient. A small search party was soon gathered to explore the area. If all proved as a misconception, at least more knowledge of the land below could be gained. The crew of 5 were supplied and placed on the cargo lift, then slowly lowered onto the sandy shore. Onboard, the communications team began to receive a variety of short wave communications, certainly not "natural" in origin. They were not in the native tongue, nor any easily recognized. However, it bore striking similarity to an ancient language, decoded though never placed in proper usage. To test this theory, a simple "Hello." was broadcasted in return. The zeppelin occupants waited anxiously for a response. |
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| Kuno | Nov 8 2009, 11:30 PM Post #6 |
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One of the specters jerked with surprise as the reply arrived. They had all expected this as a possibility, but he had not expected a comprehensible message. Rubbing his hand on his scalp, he motioned his coordinators to leave the channel open as he scurried and paced along the metal surface of a lateral strut. When he was sure of what he heard, he touched his palm to the interface and told the meeting committee, "The Admonishers' trade language, they use it." It was unlikely that they would need any more guidance. Though it was questionable whether the Admonishers created the trade language, the visionary generation knew that it had lacked much of the cultural complexity of their main language. It was likely a creole of some kind, party adapted from neighboring groups. Wherever it originated from, it was prevalent enough within the Admonishers' circle that it had been passed down to them. Some of them, at least. Unlike the language of their living selves, that of the facilities, or that of the of the Admonishers, it was not something a specter could comprehend innately. From this point onward, communications were to be handled by Watersalt of the outbound envoys. They had yet to wade through many of the trees, but it was a simple task. Most would crumble when a single specter leaned upon them, and the breeze even blew bits of them away. These trees were much younger than the visionary generation. They were all victims of a second wave of the plague, coincident with the awakening of the Admonishers' brood. Watersalt muttered to herself while she shattered husks, "Hello... Hello... Hello..." She squeezed the disc-like radio. Inquisitive, she asked, "What's your purpose, sky whale?" |
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| Vaka | Nov 9 2009, 04:22 PM Post #7 |
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Adorned in tight fitting skins and gas masks, the contact crew set foot on the alien shore. Though they did not expect immediate hostility, the gas masks and weapons holstered at their sides were a precautionary measurement. Who knew what types of inflictions, both microscopic and very visible, this new world had in store? The words spoken between the communications group above and the still hidden party were relayed to the ground units, though only one of them was well versed in this sort of ancient, and until now, useless language. There was a shuffling sound through the radio broadcast, followed by a few clicks as the incoming frequency was specified and then matched for clarification. "We sail under the land of Leasere. Our purpose is exploratory; do not see us as a threat." The now masculine voice cut off for just a moment with a crackle of static. As the signal was reestablished he asked, "What do you call yourselves?" On the far horizon, one other ship could be seen approaching. Knowing this, another should be on its way, and another. The zeppelins traveled in groups, each a few kilometers apart. However, there was no intention of acquisitioning this land. Not yet. |
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| Kuno | Nov 9 2009, 05:33 PM Post #8 |
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Watersalt brushed the dust off her lenses, as she craned her neck around. At any moment, she expected the ocean to open up beyond her with the sky whale in center view. How she ached for this mangled wreck of life. Were these trees still living, she would have climbed through them, and then she would have found it so much easier to see ahead. She was well aware that these trees, unfortunately, had been slowly disintegrating. They would not support the weight of even small creatures like her. It was irrelevant to consider, as they were almost there. Sitting on her haunches for a moment's rest, she spoke into the radio, "What is your vector from here? There are several nearby landmasses. None are named that, so I have trouble understanding fully... Wary explorers are welcome to visit this place. You don't have to be unpresuming, as there isn't much terror that hasn't been bled out of me or them." Her eyes flitted between her two cohorts, who were fidgeting with the foliage up ahead. "As for my what we are. I think we're going to return to death. I'm Anathanatos. We all are... eventually" Catching up to her companions just as they broke onto the long stretch of shoreline, Watersalt paced along with them. They observed the personal form of the sky whale and searched about for smaller creatures. They were strange and artificial looking, wielding weapons. They was a deadness which permeated her perception of them. Perhaps all that extra outfitting may have concealed them. But she imagined it would be uncomfortable if that airtight layer weren't their skin. The group stayed in front of her, more anxious than she was to question the visitors. They were treeshrewish and animal-like, but their appendages were very dexterous looking by the way they carefully curled into the sand. Silver all over and jointed with black, they trotted on all fours, obviously uncomfortable with the flat ground. |
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| Vaka | Nov 9 2009, 05:56 PM Post #9 |
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Verlyn placed his hand over the microphone. He could not fully understand what the creatures below were implying. Were they not organic? Presumably. They gave off the implication that they were in fact mechanical. Though their responses seemed far too sophisticated to be that of a machine. Whatever they were constructed in the likeness of, it was far beyond Leaserian capabilities. With a clear hesitation in his voice, he continued speaking, "What- What are you implicating? Is there any imminent danger in these lands?" They didn't appear hostile. Not to themselves, or the crew for that matter. Though, under focus, the land seemed eerily rotten. He watched through the large pane which masked the front of the vessel as his contacts brushed through the forest and onto land. The trees seemed so brittle, as if they crumbled under the slightest touch. A monitor replayed their few moments of movement on a loop, as several crew behind them attempted to make something of it. he assumed the answers would come soon enough. The ground contacts carefully examined these foreign beings. They appeared nothing like home technology. Nothing like they had ever seen. Their movement seemed too fluid for that of a metallic being. Most of their functions seemed to contradict their words and image. The very suggestion of them being once or ever dead astonished the explorers. Surely this was a mistranslation? |
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| Kuno | Nov 12 2009, 11:17 AM Post #10 |
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The two leading specters, Pinefern and Sandeyes, approached within roughly three meters of the alien greeting squad, their empty black eyes scanning over the environmental suits. For being machines, Anathanatoi seemed to possess all the intrinsic limitations of their living species. Their senses and mental abilities were not much improved from and often inferior to that which was natural. Whether this was an oversight on the part of the Admonishers or the unfamiliarity of the specters' minds, it was difficult to ascertain in this early era. The recent work of physiologists had shed little light onto the motives of the Admonishers and drawn many more questions, as there was scattered evidence uncovered to suggest that many functions of their minds and bodies had been purposely disabled. After Watersalt tucked herself just behind him, Pinefern introduced himself, first by name, then by species. It was a formality, as he had nothing new to say. Watersalt, though having spoken to the skywhales, copied the sterile welcome provided by her coworker. Sandeyes, on the other hand, was ready to speak on behalf of the group and all the rest of the specters. Regrettably, he didn't know the trade language himself. Instead Watersalt translated as he whirred and buzzed about his business. She repeated him in the Forefathers' tongue, "Welcome to our Grave, Skywhales. My old name was Sandeyes, and I was once a breeder of new life. I've since passed on, but that doesn't mean I'm uninterested in your affairs." Watersalt stopped with Sandeyes as he paused to turn his snout to the treeline inshore. "We wouldn't want you to lose the innocence of your livelihoods to the plague of the woods, but you'll be safe now as far as I know. The plague has never survived the touch of daylight." |
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