Chapter 6 – Trial of Severed Heads

The translation work was nearing completion. The diggers were clawing, shoveling, reaping the sand off hungrily and relentlessly. The stone stood in a deep hole, and he sat on its edge. With a mere paper and pen in hand, he wrote words that had not been read for countless generations. It was the ending of the great story, the climax of the journey of life in the universe. The fate of every star, every soul, every war and struggle, was written on the monumental slab towering before him. As he scribbled, his mind and body hovering in a strange middle-ground of this life and the next, he felt at peace. The the sheer act of writing gave him profound joy.

Behind him, at the edge of the digsite, the nameless gargantuan monstrosity awaited still, its lumpy, veiny back like a wall of rocks. He couldn’t see anything past it. Like a loyal guard, protecting the excavation process, it paid no heed to what he was doing. Its unholy presence was almost comforting.

In his life, he had been a soldier, rising the ranks with hard work and determination. In battles, he had blocked blades, cut down men, for gold and food, in defense of the provinces of Sharam. But deep down, attending wars and lesser skirmishes had never been about gold or status. He had lived according to his nature as a man. That weighed most.

The air turned cold behind him, and in the next instant the necromancer named Maron appeared, carrying in his left hand the severed still-bleeding heads of four people by their hairs.

Continue reading “Chapter 6 – Trial of Severed Heads”

Chapter 5 – Fuck the Death God In the Ass

He gave his breastplate a defiant thump with his fist. The army of horsemen that had been boastfully riding into battle, had mostly fallen on the ground, many men trapped under their rides, others hurrying to flee as far as their boots could carry them. The thump was a gesture of respect and a challenge.

“Best way to go, dying in glory fighting a worthy enemy”, Boros cackled.

His traveling companion looked at him stunned. Nembra shook her head in disbelief, her lips silently emoting the word “men”. The sight of the colossal unnamed thing wasn’t nearly as confounding as watching a man prepare to fight it with a mere hammer and his black armor. He stared fiercely back at them.

“Fuck you guys waiting? We fuck the death god in the ass!”

Continue reading “Chapter 5 – Fuck the Death God In the Ass”

Chapter 4 – Clear Shades of Black and White

It was night, hundreds of military horsemen were travelling with lights everywhere, an oil lamp strapped on every soldier on a horse. It was not a subtle war effort. They were coming and they wanted the magi to know they were coming. At the back of a supply cart being pulled by horses, a conversation was taking place.

“What you suggest is madness! Throwing this world off balance is too easy, that’s why we need laws and enforces and a hierarchical system that ensures the rules are followed! One mage gone mad can turn everything upside down! There is no grey area to this! One brilliant mind, who reads too much, can upend the social order overnight. That’s clear shades of black and white!”

“And if the prevailing order stinks, like a toilet?”

“I’d rather have a stable dictatorship, than an anarchic democracy.”

Continue reading “Chapter 4 – Clear Shades of Black and White”

Myth 2: Inspiration for this project

The Myth games were some of my favorite war strategy games. This video lists all the cool journal entries that preceded every campaign mission. I could play the same level tens of times, and still wouldn’t ever completely master it, forcing multiple play attempts, because of bullshit RNG and the A.I. responding to your plays, plus the absolutely overwhelming enemy armies. You often had a squad of 10-30 men only, against 200-300 enemies. You had to use high-ground positions, predict enemy movements, use formations with very quick on-the-fly improvisations, in reaction to mindboggling situations that would transpire.

Chapter 3 – Obituary of The Universe

The giant slab of unnamed stone peeked from the bottom of the sand pit. Scribbled with words not read for aeons beyond remembrance. Only some lines were visible. Like one gigantic tombstone, untouched by the ravages of time and wars past. Did it speak of an age lost to historians, divine laws of the land, or was it a warning? The only words that the white-haired slenderly man could read on the small surface area that was partially visible, despite his vast knowledge, were just the name of it.

“Obituary of the universe… it exists”, he whispered to himself as he fell to his knees that just lost their strength.

Continue reading “Chapter 3 – Obituary of The Universe”

Karma is a bitch

The supposed main character of the story is a monk of Sharam, named only Karma. His design is developing… First idea was to make him like an emo Edward Elric. But he may become a K-pop idol instead!

Their world is at war with excellence. With the potent magic their bloodlines hold, the people of the world should be populating the star systems. Instead, the three dominant populations live in a theocratic medieval police state, a spiritually dead military state, and a socially incohesive sham democracy. Those are the remaining civilizations of the world, the rest were destroyed for reasons that have never been fully investigated.

Magic – how spellcasting works in this world

In usual fantasy stories, magic is always restricted by something. There are drawbacks, item requirements, it depletes mana, whatever. But the magic in this world is stupidly powerful, restricted by almost nothing. If you know the spells and can speak the words, you can cast them repeatedly. The restriction on magic is the social order that is maintained with heavy censorship. The ruling class of every nation is busy keeping rogue mages from running rampant. And rigidly dogmatic religions add numerous rules to magic usage, with harsh punishments for anyone crossing the line. Nations are in perpetual struggle to retain the social order.

Chapter 2 – The Dead Are Digging

Shovels, pickaxes, carts. Borrowed from nearby farms and mining towns. The workforce was borrowed as well, without an expiration date for return. The racket at the digsite was infernal, as thousands of walking corpses tinkered with their many tasks. For any work more complicated than shoveling sand and dirt and rock, they would’ve been unfit for. But for monotone, repetitive work, the dead were ideal. They knew no exhaustion when doing their master’s sinister bidding.

Continue reading “Chapter 2 – The Dead Are Digging”