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| The Elders Secret; A Short Story from Sordia | ||
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| Topic Started: Aug 8 2010, 07:06 PM (229 Views) | ||
| Maverick | Aug 8 2010, 07:06 PM Post #1 | |
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"How many assholes we got on this ship anyhow?"
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This is one of several stories I'm doing in a series told in first person from Floyd's perspective to Til'k, the Gcore. Floyd's adopted the Geneticore as his own son and wants him to know all about Sordia and some of the crazy shit he's been though. These stories have nothing to do with Til'k really, but are geared at 'paying for' the weaker logical moves that a Gcore would easily be able to perform. This story is after the following: Growl Howl Roar Lick Tackle Vine Whip I don't expect to earn all of these from just one story, and since there is no actual price guide for non TM moves, the Smod who grades this will need to refer to Frac about how much this particular set costs. Word Count: 5,885 Oh...and I've been reading ALOT of Lovecraft lately so this is patterned off him. Tales From Sordia: The Elders Secret Fingers of red tinged lighting streaked across the gray sky, raking its crazed creeping tendrils over the dark swirling clouds above. For the briefest of moments, the flash of blinding light dazzled my eyeless sight, bleaching all color from the lush green plains and leaving it spotted in blotches of winking black. A peel of thunder followed that cracked explosively near, and made the ground beneath my bare feet tremble. The plain, with its jungle of tall grasses rippling in the torrent of increasing winds, half hidden by the slowly dissipating spots I now saw, sprang to painful sharpness. A quick, stabbing headache followed before my hearing briefly shut out the din. I was cast into a world without depth or definition for the briefest of panic stricken seconds before the damnable spots had faded at last and the deep rumble over head was again in my ear. My sigh of relief was real, for outside of my dark and quiet forest home, it was very easy to be handicapped by the barrage of light and sound, unaccustomed to it as I was. And yet, I stood on the plain alone, armed only with a spear and set of wrist knives. This was the month of half light which comes twice a year to the central region of the only land mass to dominate my planet, Sordia. Half Light lasts longer toward the planet's poles and proceeds and follows a three month stretch of darkness where the nearest light is a bloody red halo which creeps weakly over the horizon. The rest of the year the planet is blanketed in the warm eternal glows of two suns, twin stars whose planetary system is made up only of Sordia. In spite of the prolonged months of light, the planet's surface is protected by the rolling waves of heavy clouds which continuously clash and rage. The world is hot and muggy, a swamp world with very few dry and barren places and many towering forests of mangrove trees as tall as any structure a human could reasonably build on their own world. Everything on my world is gigantic. The planet itself dwarfs every other known habitable planet we have ever learned of. I couldn't tell you why. I'm not a scientist, only a hunter, and one day, perhaps a warrior that people will remember with reverence. My path is not an easy one, given that all manner of beast and plants here are so dangerously huge and savage. You see, Scavians are one of the smallest mammals found on Sordia. We are its equivalent of rats. Intelligent rats resembling a blind alligator and related to a frog, but rats none the less. We are pint sized carnivores, and with a skilled pack of hunters, nothing to be trifled with. Alone though, well, I was about to learn firsthand why Scavians were never found on the plains alone. The storm shaking up my vision was merely the icing on the cake. They said I was crazy for chasing the half baked stories of old men, and stupid for insisting on journeying alone. Perhaps they were right, for looking back, I know now that I was simply young and stupid. Impetuous to the end and like all would be warriors, walking about with a chip on my shoulder, and an unrealistic sense of immorality. I would return from this trip with a sober sense of reality, cautiously silent about what I had witnessed - something so dreadfully sinister and horrific that I would wish its accursed image upon no man. But I have to tell someone, lest the nightmares which still pervade the peace of my dreams haunt me forever as they did my boon companion to the end of his days. As I have indicated, I was a younger man then, only just having passed my Blood Rites and officially declared an adult. My head was full of daydreams of grandeur, like all males, and like the other brazen young hunters, I spent my time in the lodges listening to the battles of men one hundred times greater than I. All the stories were the same, after awhile. Always involving some would be hero facing down something impossibly large on his own and somehow coming out on top. Fish stories, I suppose you would call them. Show me the proof, is what I said - or would have had I not sincerely wanted to keep my front teeth intact. However, I was not alone in my quiet scoffing and soon found a companion by which to silently share my skepticism of the endless boastful feats. His name was Tur'lok'vise'k, The Fire Blade Hunter, and he was over two hundred and fifty years old and never mated. The age is not so much remarkable as the fact that he had yet to join the ranks of The Elders in the final stage of the Scavian life cycle. Whenever asked this question, he would keenly dodge and change the subject. Something about molting put him off, or perhaps it was the drastic change in physical appearance that the old ones undergo, shifting in a matter of months from something vaguely humanoid and visually appealing to something more arthropodus in nature and closely resembling an arachnid. Or perhaps it has less to do with the inevitable metamorphosis and more to do with the horror he had once witnessed at my age. Tur'lok would often get drunk and ramble madly about his past. And though the majority of it seemed respectable, there were certain avenues that left his listeners wondering and doubtful. I did my reputation little good by being seen with him but it was the nature of the alternate avenues which held my interest most keenly. Tur'lok fancied himself a hunter of the supernatural. One particular story always held my attention and I often begged for him to tell it again and in more detail, trying every time to pry loose some vestige of memory he was trying vainly to keep from me. If one bottle of whiskey would not loosen his tongue then I would buy him another and another until I had at last pieced together the disturbing ghost story to its fullest. I never truly succeeded, for some things were simply too horrible for even his inebriated mind to give up. Only now, years later do I really understand why. Upon the hoary height of the jagged mountain peaks to the north, Tur'lok had once traveled in his youth. The rocky edifice that reaches above the cloud line was said to be the home of a beast so fierce that not even a Primordian in a fit of rage would dare vex it and risk its wrath. As self assured as I was in my own youth, so too had been Tur'lok. As a young man he had trekked across the plain, through the tall grasses and past the giant lumbering herds of the field. He'd scaled the steep cliffs and braved the chill winds of the northern peaks. His quest for the unknown came at the end of the three month span of night on the very evening the sun's approach flooded the horizon with its ethereal scarlet rays. Something had shaken the then warrior to his very core, having forever scarred him. He swore to his dieing day he had made it out alive only by fleeing the scene promptly before his presence was found out. The effect on him was profound and he vowed he would run no more and would one day return. His days since had been spent in training, hunting down, and fighting all manner of devils and demons. Ghosts that no one really believed existed, not in a modern space fairing society such as ours. Old Tur'lok is long since dead, killed not by the specters he chased but by his adamant refusal to molt. His body, not able to heed the natural course of its existence was placed under such stresses that eventually the organs that would otherwise be reborn, had simply given out. And on his dyeing breath I made a solemn promise to my friend that I would take up his sword and return to the mountain. I would defeat the beast in his stead, though I knew no more about it than the scarce details he would part with. The storm raged overhead and I found myself cowering close to the ground, praying to the gods that it would soon pass. I was not even three days into my quest to the northern mountains and only half way across the great plain. Old Tur'lok's trip had taken months on foot, and given that this was his battle and not truly mine, I had chosen to cut down the arduous expedition by traveling by hoverbike. I crouched low beside the skeletal frame of the vehicle, a slim single man craft perfect for slipping through the reedy jungle of grass which grew well above my waist. Any idiot could have told me that the days of half light are the worst for electrical storms and the most dangerous time to travel. I was too busy adamantly defending my friend's honor to care for the advice of others though. Quaking half with fear and half in regret, I wondered futilely how I would ever make it to the mountains in one piece, let alone its lofty summit. Again the earth began to tremble and I groaned in despair, sure my hearing had once more been shattered by a crack of thunder so loud I had not even caught its opening tones. And then it did thunder, quickly following a trail of harsh lightning across the sky. I gasped aloud, my voice lost in the crackle over head and growling which continued beneath my feet. The earth surged up before me in a tidal wave of rolling sod and mud, and I was sent rolling down the newly made slope in the field. The tall strands of the grass lashed my sides raw as my fall tore through the weedy jungle. Just as I came to a rest, the bike, having also been upset by the upheaval of earth, landed atop me, pinning me to the ground. Prone, helpless, and more than a little stunned, I was showered with clods of dirt as a great shadow fell over the field. A guttural growl brought my attention slowly skywards where a mountain of bulbous brown flesh, dry and leathery, towered thirty feet into the air. Two enormous and gangly arms clawed deep ruts into the earth to either side of me with scythe like tips of chitin. I shrieked and flailed beneath the weight of the bike, taking note for the first time of the grievous bruising its landing had inflicted on me. My shrill screams of fright only served to arouse the behemoth's attention, luring its focus to the ground beneath its deadly arms. It's pointed head was all beak, a thing divided three ways with a cavernous throat filled with churning sharp teeth. As eyeless as myself, I could only assume its method of sight was similar to my own. A conglomeration of its other senses fitting together a very real picture in its mind of my pathetic form ground into the mud. Unsolicited, one of its many whip like tails whirled through the air over head, cracking loud enough to strike me deaf for several seconds, while in stark terror I watched as a second ropey tendril flicked away the bike, and still yet a third snared me by the waist and looped solidly around me twice. Yanked into the air so quickly I felt the wind sting and pull on the flesh of my cheeks, the monstrous being dangled me before its yawning maw. I think I might have feinted then, but I'll never know for sure because the next thing I knew, it was shaking me lightly to arouse my attention, not realizing its own whip-cracking tail had rendered me without hearing. Not receiving a response, the beast kept its grip about my pain racked body and slithered back into the dark depths of the raw wet earth. Mud and an abundance of rain water dripped from the newly rend ceiling of its excavated tunnels, and I was sure at any moment the passage would cave in upon the unsupported portion through which its long slender tails dragged with me still attached. In spite of my present peril, the cool darkness was welcoming as it was as close to my dark forest floors as I feared I would ever come again. After a time I was unable to discern how far the creature took me or how deep into the ground we went, but soon the sound of running water filled my ears, and my sight, now devoid of color, could detect traces of limestone in the black and white tunnel walls. It is a known fact that much of Sordia's upper crusts are riddled with caves and underground rivers. No known Scavian has ever had the privilege of seeing them, not since the first expedition to ever leave the forest. This was the domain of the Primordian, The Record Keepers. They are the largest creature to inhabit our world, and the only other sentient being on the planet. They are generally a peaceful race, and more ancient than we Scavians could ever hope to know. They came well before us, and had unraveled the secrets of the stars long before we ever picked up our first nodule of flint. They are also frightfully ugly, being nothing more than giant grubs with meat grinders for teeth, and somehow manage to spear and slither their way through the mud crevasses of the earth as fast a freight train. They are 'gentle' giants in that they no more wish to harm us than a curious human who scoops up a passing field mouse to set out of harm's way. Just then I was the field mouse, and I happened to have gained the interest of a very young Primordan - one hardly more than a nymph. I suspected I was being brought home as a trophy to show off to some woeful parent who would then demand I be taken right back outside. I would be lucky not to be crushed by the youngster by accident. As it turned out, my fate was to be much, much worse. We came to a jarring halt in a cavern so vast I could perceive nothing but darkness above and to my sides. The sounds which echoed across the distant surfaces returned to me only the most rudimentary idea of what my surroundings were shaped like. Only the rising plumes of heat from a few looming blocks of machinery and of course from my rather rude host, gave any definition that I was in some sort of dwelling. The creature thundered a garbled noise that sounded both disappointed and impatient and then slithered closer to where the machines droned surprisingly soft. The pointed tips of its limbs hoisted its bulgy body higher and rifled through oddly shaped items atop what I suppose was a counter or a work table. One of its spiraling tails flicked whenever it found something of particular intrigue, until at last it found what it was looking for. I groaned miserably upon seeing it was no less than a giant jar. No need to ask what it had planned for that. As predicted I was dropped into the clear receptacle and left on the counter for some unfortunate mother to find. I could only imagine what her reaction would be to the rodent on her kitchen counter, if this was indeed a Primordian's equivalent to a kitchen. I was sure now that the mystery behind Tur'lok's insanity would never be solved and my promise to a crazy friend ever kept. More importantly, I was wholly convinced that this was the end of the line for me. I'm not sure how long I waited there in the bottom of the dusty glass container. The screen of the computer gauntlet I wore on my wrist had been shattered during my tumble above ground. Now I could neither check my location or the time. After what seemed like several hours, a heavy shifting of weight across stone alerted me to the approach of another being. As I had not seen the young Primordian since being abandoned there, I could only hope this was its parent and that I would soon be set free. From out of the dark abyss that reached beyond what my senses could perceive, burst a wicked beak shaped of the black and white static of my night sight. Startled yet again I scrambled uselessly against the glass, my claws pinging softly inside my prison. My hearts rapid beating calmed as the monstrous thing loomed before me, edging closer as it writhed across the rock like a snake. Those gigantic bladed limbs dragged it closer where its pointed beak head tilted this way and that to inspect my jar as if it had known it would be there. The being was twice the size of the young one and hopefully the adult - I'm not sure my addled brain could have dealt with any more surprises just then. An additional noise behind the giant signaled the approach of a second creature, and as it neared enough to make out, my hearts sank woefully, for it was once more the youngster. The adult pecked on the glass delicately with the tip of one of its long tails, jolting me to life. I flailed about again in fear, but apparently my response was what it wanted. It nodded and even more gently, manipulated that tendril of twining flesh into the jar and wrested my shivering form free. Like a doll I was turned this way and that, held upside down and finally plopped onto the counter and held there with enough pressure to assure I did not try to run. The little one brought forth an instrument I couldn't begin to describe as having any sort of medical purpose. Cylindrical, metal, and sporting a wickedly pronged tip, I suspected immediately that the thing was a weapon, for it looked like nothing short of a plasma canon. This was a ridiculous notion, I later realized, because these are, as I said before, peaceful creatures. They are also highly advanced, and so it should have been no surprise to see technology in their tendrils which far surpass anything the Scavian race had yet to devise. The pronged tip glowed a violent blue in the dark, softly illuminating the Primordian's dust colored faces and producing a dim reflection off the reflective cells in my skin. The instrument was passed before me like a torch and my upper epidermis glittered like polished copper as it might in full day light. Had this been a less dire situation I might have marveled at my own uniquely handsome physique, for few males can say they have such brilliantly bright skin pigment as my own. As it was, I too busy trying to not piss myself, given that I was too dumb struck to realize that even though no physical contact was being made, the sinister looking instrument was actually repairing much of my internal injuries caused by the youth's carelessness. When the light was at last put out, not a scratch remained. I had been completely healed! And now stupidly I hoped that the beast would also be kind enough to set me free. Without even attempting to find a proper translator, the adult dumped me back into the jar and uttered something unintelligible to the adolescent. I pounded my fists against the glass and shouted after it as it slithered off into the darkness but instead of gaining its attention, I found instead the little one peering at me with obvious glee. My noises apparently fascinated it. I flopped to the floor of the jostled container and cried as the youth carried me off to another vast chamber and dumped me into some sort of terrarium. By the gods, it wanted to keep me as a pet! I had never before then encountered a Primordian, but had always been told that they were a highly advanced and civilized race. Just then I thought them to be barbaric and morbid. I spent the next few days trapped in the humid glass cell decorated to duplicate the planet's swamps. I'm not exactly sure how long it was, as I had only the young ones pattern of sleeping and rising to judge from. Curled up into a giant knot of limbs and tendrils, the adult would send it off to sleep with a chorus of cueing sounds that I supposed was a lullaby, and after a time it would rise, peck cheerfully on my little prison and then go about its day somewhere else, leaving me utterly alone. On what I surmised to be the third day, I could take this treatment no more. I had been fed vegetable matter only and was literally starving. Stir crazy, lonely and nearly mad from exhaustion, I put it to myself to find some means of escape. With the youngster gone about its business for the day, I tore apart the branches that adorned the cage and piled them high to create a lattice work by which I might scale to the lid. The mound of refuse was rickety and dangerous, but I scaled a height of twelve feet and finally gained the aquarium's edge. How little faith these creatures had in my intelligence! The lid was not even fastened and was easily shoved and pushed aside. My pride took a severe blow as it dawned on me that I could have escaped days ago. Happily, I dropped over the edge and landed on the surface of some odd piece of furniture that decorated the room. A new sense of hopelessness over took me as I saw that I had no way to reach the floor far below safely. I would have to explore the piece of furniture and hope to find some means to assist with my decent. Creeping around the edge of the terrarium, I came face to face with a sleeping beast resting in a tangle of silken web. The arachnid was a common breed found in the forest and was of the same ilk I had cut my teeth on growing up. Some even kept the furry legged things as pets, given how easily intimidated they were as hatchlings. This one was no hatchling though, it was a very healthy adult half my size. And it was hungry. I was hungry too, damn it! And that thick wad of funnel web that was its home would make the perfect rope to further my eventual escape. The wrist blades that I kept safely retracted in my right gauntlet clicked into place. The spider, hearing the click, unfurled its many legs. I then reached for my belt and plucked the metal shaft from its clip with a resolute snap. My thumb found the release in the molded grip of the combi-stick, and the double ended shaft of the collapsible spear sprang open with the singing of metal. The spider's fangs clicked together softly and dripped with the paralyzing poison it used to incapacitate its prey. Dropping into a crouch, I readied myself to dodge and roll to the side, remembering the species' tendency to lunge straight ahead and drop its posed front limbs down over its catch like a grappling hand. It moved, and so did I. My shoulder hit the surface of the odd table as I expertly parried aside, and dropped into a clean roll from the pouncing spider. I came out of my manuever beside the ravenous thing with my spear held high, positioned exquisitely for a perfectly executed strike designed to impale the little monster directly through its thorax and sever the central cluster of nerves that controlled most of its locomotion. The spider exploded in a spray of green splatter which washed over my face and chest. I stood frozen and in shock right up until a large twining tail took me up in its grip and yanked me into the air. How the adult Primordian had snuck into the room without my knowing is a mystery. It gently attempted to wipe away the guts and grime from the dead arachnid and shook its beaky head at me in disappointment. How I wish I knew what it was saying as it carried me off down a long corridor and away from that dreadful little cage! It might have prepared me for the shock that was to come next. Wearing several days of filth, tired, hungry and more frightened than I had ever been in my entire life, the monstrous being brought me to a large room and set me upon a central table where I was to be gawked at and studied by a half dozen other creatures of the same kind. As calmly as my trembling hands would allow, I retracted the unbloodied combi-stick and returned it to my belt. I walked across the table in a daze, turning about in a full circle to look upon the stern, glowering faces of the unhappy giants. "F'loyd." Called a voice in the darkness. The voice of judgment from a deep and resonating fountain of experience and knowledge. I flinched with fear and shame for I recognized that voice! I spun about until I caught sight of a figure approaching from the far end of the long table. Another Scavian for his stature was scaled to my own! My moment of elation died away as I remembered I knew the voice, and now knew for certain who walked toward me. My own Godfather, Morrgan'seg'k. I bowed to my Seg'k, the great General known throughout the empire to be fearless and wise. I dared not look him in his angry snarling face, for I knew there to be nothing but regret and disappointment there! And when he spoke, his voice was stern and reckoning. "The Record Keepers tell me you were on the plains alone in the Half Light, my son. I know what foolishness you were planning and I forbid it! When they contacted the Elders that they had found one of our own, wandering and injured in the day lit world, I never once dreamed it could be one of my own. Imagine my humiliation when the one they described could only be you! You with that gaudy orange hide!" Imagine my humiliation to be spoken to as if I were a just a spawnling. This was degrading! My nerves rankled as I fought the desire to defend myself and further shame the great General who had raised me as his own. I kept my head bowed and refused to look at him. "You have listened to old Tur'lok's stories of ghosts and devils too much." His voice had softened, speaking of the dead more respectfully that he wanted to speak to me. "Had he listened to his elders and not ventured alone to the mountains he would never have seen the dread secret we keep hidden. He would never have feared the natural course of events life brings, and would still be among the living today. He would have understood what he saw, and excepted it. He was too young to comprehend just as you are too young. The sight would drive you mad and I can't have that." Briefly, I had forgotten our audience of looming giants. Morgon's words only served to further confuse me, and aroused a renewed curiosity in this thing that my companion had seen and feared. I shook my head, denying everything, even to myself. "I didn't think it was real..." I gasped, still not believing that my own Godfather admitted there to be a monster on the mountain top. "I promised him I would go, on his death bed even. I would go and put to rest the nightmare that haunted him his whole life. If I can't go, then you have to tell me what this thing is, so I'll have kept my vow to Tur'lok." While I had begun in a half whisper, trembling with fright and weariness, my voice gained fervor as I reminded myself, and now my guardian of the oath I had sworn to upkeep. Morgon was quiet, choosing his words and weighing his options carefully. He looked around him to the surrounding hall of Record Keepers who watched the scene play out with the keen interest of scientists. And finally, his gaze once more fell upon me. "My son, this is not a thing I can ever describe to you in words, for it is horrible to one as young and full of life and dreams as you. As Tur'lok before you was as well. If the only way to put this sorry ordeal to rest at last, is to reveal the secret, you must swear yourself to another oath, one that will be your undoing if you do not keep. One that is likely to torment you with the guilt and horror of the dismal truth for the rest of your days." Astounded by his relenting acceptance to open to me a world he had previously forbade, I nodded willingly, glad at last to be rid of the cross I bore for Tur'lok. Soon this puzzle, this riddle of the ages would be answered and I could rest peacefully at night knowing that there was never anything for my dear friend to have troubled himself over. Morgon had then turned and thanked the Primordians profusely for my safe keeping and deliverance to him. He even thanked them for their hospitality. Whether he knew about the little terrarium prison in the child's room or not, I never asked. What followed when we left their deep caverns was so profound, that for many years it overshadowed the miserable experience of being a child's pet. Though sometimes I suspect that he did know, and that it might have even been his idea, for in later years he and the self same adult beast who had healed my injuries would meet often to discuss matters of planetary importance. From that point until we reached the mountains heights, my godfather did not speak to me. The days of darkness was upon the land when we were returned the world above. Never had I been so glad to breath the fresh humid air or hear the distant thunder on the rolling hills. I remember the sense of calm I felt as I looked from the high vantage point from the mountain peak to down below at the cloud line from a new and surreal perspective, and how I gazed wonderingly at the flaring red cornea created by the suns which blazed behind the planet. The bloody aurora was a spectacular sight and beside me, Morgon watched as well, allowing me the short glimpse, and peace of mind one last time. We had come upon a cave in those lofty peaks, the same of which had been described to me by old Tur'lok. As I set sights on the elaborate ancient carvings which bordered the thresh hold, a strange stirring squirmed restlessly in the pit of my stomach. These were clearly Scavian in origin! Perhaps this was a tomb for our ancestors I had never before heard of, but why then the secrecy? My claws reached for the deep etchings and traced them until I was sure of their meanings. It was a warning to all who entered, that what dwelt within must never again see the light of day, lest the universe be damned to hell forever. Entering cautiously through the gloom the torchlight composed of the glowing fungi of the forest floor found miles away, revealed a lit path deep into the mountain side. Such ancient methods of illumination required careful cultivation and upkeep. Someone living resided here, I decided and my curiosity arose briefly, to combat my rising fear. Then Morgon stopped unexpectedly and turned to face me in the dark. His face was difficult to read but I imagined something like dread there. In a horse whisper that I could barely make out he spoke to me for the first time since the great hall in the Primordian's dwelling place. "You mustn't let them see you. Do not give away our presence here. This must always be a secret between us. And if you ever need to speak of it, do so only with me. No one else. This is an Elder's secret, and I know of it only because I approach the age of Elder and hold such an esteemed position before my time. This could be the undoing of the entire empire if word or suspicion ever leaked." Nodding quickly, I couldn't help but let my jaw drop in quiet astonishment at his bewildered frankness. We carried on, deeper into the rock until we could hear the raspy voices I'd come to associate with the Elders. I had already decided that this was some hidden cult of the old ones, where the young were barred and the greatest secrets discussed. And while I couldn't imagine why Tur'lok had been so frightened, I fancied the old one probably danced around in crazy head dresses or some other bizarre and wild funk that my weary and easily impressionable friend of yesteryear had imagined to be something much worse. Were it only that this was true. My Godfather barred my way at the last minute, cast a careful glance around the rock bend, and then back at me. I could the rattling of heavy chains now and the heavy wet breathing a number of beings just out of sight. His expression seemed to plea with me one last time to change my mind. I cannot not tell you how I wish I had! For around that rock wall stood a room of towering creatures black as coal with skeletal limbs, and fangs like ice. Their oblong heads seemed impossibly large for their glistening black frames, thin and armored. Their soft hiss was like the grinding of metal, and the rock wall of their chamber was cast in fleshy material both spongy and resiness. The stink was the most awful. The pervading smell of acid nearly knocked me down but Morgon caught me, expecting me to feint as I put two and two together. The resemblance was uncanny but the obvious meaning was unheard of. No wonder Tur'lok had fled at the sight, and he had kept running all throughout the years of his life. To think we all would one day become something beyond the hideous guardian form of the elders, to degrade so pitifully into the drooling mindless monsters chained to these walls and kept hidden for all time. For centuries many species had wondered what well of backward putrescent DNA that the blasphemous blight upon the universe had sprung. The hive minded monster who killed without feeling and destroyed planets without regard. Now I knew, and I wish I did not. Pic I did years back of Primordian. |
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| Angel | Aug 14 2010, 02:27 PM Post #2 | |
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I Am The Coolest Person And You Should All Know It
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Right off the bat there is something that I would actually like to comment on and that is the change in writing style. The change is very apparent at first glance when you start to read it and it actually sucks you in. It gives you enough for you to imagine the setting, but intentionally withholds to allow the person to keep them hooked and wanting to read more. The ending specially is a huge example of this, and probably the most prominent of them all, as even I did not see that plot twist coming. It really caught me off guard, so kudos to you. In terms of punctuation and spelling I really found nothing that I manage to see that was wrong. Even spell check saw something so that's a plus. The descriptions used were very interesting and I enjoyed how the over grown worms were actually smarter than the Scavians. I laughed my ass off when poor Floyd was kept as a pet for a few days. Poor guy. Anyway not much to say other than it was a good Free form. One of the most enjoyable free forms I've read in the last few weeks. Rewards: Mav: Til'k gets the aforementioned moves and extra 5.5 to be assigned as Floyd wishes.Me: .4 .
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Feel free to pm me for a mod! "Hey...opinions are like assholes, everyone has one, but you don't always have to show yours off." ~Mav | ||
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to be assigned as Floyd wishes.
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6:52 PM Jul 10