RedGoblins Delusional Landscapes

[RedGoblin]

Hey all, new here. Just noticed that there was a fiction area for some creative writing and I thought I would share some of mine with everyone to see what they think.

Sci-fi/Horror is how I would describe this series...

The Ortus - A Prologue

The year was 2249 when the people of earth had finally come to truly know peace. The world had conformed under a single ruling government. We had put an end to hunger, overcome homelessness, cured the most deadly of illnesses and even stepped beyond the farthest reaches of our galaxy. It was a true golden age.

However, all would not remain as such.

Deep within the bowels of the Earth, housed within ancient catacombs built before recorded time, the Everstone or World Gem as it would also be known was found, along with several other relics of wonder by renowned archeologist Pete Tork. However, the most amazing of all these relics was the Everstone World Gem, named for both its size and the depths at which it was discovered. This twenty-foot tall gemstone of emerald was the largest the world had ever seen and yet, that wasn't its only unique quality. Beneath its gleaning green surface it was riddled with purple veins of some unknown mineral. Only after countless extracts of this substance were taken for testing would the Everstone begin its infamous tour throughout the worlds greatest museums to be displayed for all to see.

During the Everstone museum tour, the World Gem was viewed by countless millions throughout both continents and even attracted some of the wealthier off world colonials from the moon and outer expanses of the galaxy. It was truly the eighth wonder of the world. Its scintillating iridescence was almost hypnotic. Some during interviews were quoted saying; "…there's almost a presence about the stone. Like I could actually feel something, or someone touching me…in some way. It's…. It's hard to explain". While even more simply stated that it was an amazingly beautiful artifact, but that’s all the experience they had to share with others.

Quietly, secretly, for fear of ridicule from their peers, as the Everstone toured the globe these widespread individuals who had felt the "presence" gathered together to discuss the various experiences they had while viewing the Everstone. They finally came to the conclusion that there was much more to the stone than there appeared. The group began to research as much as they could regarding the stone, its discovery, the other relics that were found with it, they were like obsessed scientists in their search. Slowly the group began to grow as the Everstone visited more cities, and enticed more people until finally they brandished themselves with the name The Ortus Brotherhood, or The Brotherhood of the Rebirth. Through their toiling and research the Ortus came to learn that among the variety of relics discovered with the ever-impressive Everstone was a withered tome. A book bound in flesh, its pages brittle from the passage of time, scribed in unknown characters, from an unknown language, by an unknown people.

It was nearing the end of the tour when the Ortus finally managed to locate a member of the research team studying the various relics discovered with the World Stone and assimilated him into the folds of their throng. Once armed with the whereabouts of the relics they managed to steal them away in secret to research on their own. It was not long before the Leader of The Ortus Brotherhood, Mannious Black, discovered that the presence he had once felt in the stone was now ever present within his mind attempting to commune with him.

It referred to him as 'son', and instructed him to concoct a serum with the extracts that were originally taken from the depths of the stone and share it with the whole of The Brotherhood. So, he did. It was the beginning of the end.

Shortly after drinking the concoction, Mannious and his followers had become completely seduced by the presence within the Everstone and found themselves instructed to bring about the glorious time of the rebirth. A time when mankind would be given its first glimpse at the true reason for their existence, a true first vision of the creator, for as Mannious had come to find, it was not some big bang that created this world. It was not some omnipotent divine creature, perched in the clouds, judging souls to be good or evil. No, life itself was given to this meager world by the divine presence housed within the Everstone that was only now awakening from its long slumber.

It was the final day of the World Stone museum tour when The Ortus Brotherhood gathered at the final museum exhibition. Some hundred men and women from their folds gathered for the salvation of the Everstone, to release the presence from its tomb. As the museum flooded with citizens of the free world, hundreds of innocents and onlookers, The Brotherhood began to act.

With a wave of his hand the museum doors were sealed and Mannious began to read aloud from The Book of Flesh in the ancient tongue in which it was written. Upon completion of the incantation the gem exploded hurling thousands of shards into the unsuspecting masses. From tiny shards to massive chunks the bits of the Everstone flew, embedding themselves into the gathered masses, piercing flesh and even bone. The building filled with screams and panic as everyone harried to leave the confines of the enclosed museum.

At once, all cries ended and silence befell the throngs as the presence that once was bound within the Everstone was now felt by all. Born now unto the Earth was the last evil that the world would ever know, an evil that had planted life and slumbered until its fruition.

From the empty bottom husk of what remained of the Everstone, flowed a thick, black smoke, which rose and fell to the ground slowly stretching out through the masses like an early morning mist. Startled, the people attempted to stay out of the flowing darkness until a deep voice filled the minds of all assembled in a language uttered before the creation of languages.

All whom had received a shard from the gem were now transformed. A pale green glow now filled their eyes and their howls lifted forth, as they were reborn as the evil one’s army. Before the broadcast transmissions from the site were ended, the presence only spoke three words in a language that humans could understand.

"I AM HOME"

With its new unleashed power the presence began its conquest of the earth. The first few days were of utter chaos, as the enslaved masses eagerly served their new master and tore apart all of creation. Many tried to flee the Earth, but only a few made it away alive. Those others that stayed to fight the dark menace of the Everstone were quickly vanquished. It personally devoured the leaders of the great nations, as all looked on in horror. No army could stand against this final evil. One by one the great nations of the world fell and within three months time the formerly proud people of Earth had been utterly enslaved, and came to call their new master His Dark Presence.

Those who left earth swore never to return. Even those as close as the moon abandoned their homes in fear. The inhabitants of Earth written off as casualties of a great disaster. The "Praefectus", as his General's were called, served as the representatives of His Dark Presence. Slave Masters of His Dark Presence, presiding over his armies and teeming masses of the enslaved populace. Immortal and mindless acolytes were they.

Great machines were built, for purposes that none could understand. They belched smoke and ash into the skies, turning all into perpetual night. No revolutions were thought of, no hope was to be had. Humans were now animals for His Dark Presence's pleasure. A type of cattle, kept for sustenance and amusement. That is what humanity had become.

In the beginning of his dark reign, His Dark Presence delighted himself and his time with experimentation upon the teaming masses of the world. His depraved and twisted visions brought into being entire new sects of beings. He toyed with the dark arts of the dead, re-animating the dead, constructing new skeletal structures and muscle configurations, thus giving birth to the Mortus-Sancte. He married flesh to machine and gave birth to the Homines-Mechanicus. He altered more slaves in attempts to mimic the lesser of the life forms found on Earth, reversing joints, increasing senses while deadening others, these life-forms were to be known as the Ani-Corpus. These are only to list a few of His Dark Presence's experimental lineage's, his children as he called them.

The first creation from each of his experimental races, known as the "Patrons", was given a great nation to preside over, with a consignment of Praefectus, while His Dark Presence ruled them all. The insane children plunged the people of Earth into a new hell, a hell that before now was unimagined.

Humans were bred to continue the work of His Dark Presence and to provide him and his children sustenance. All hated and feared His Dark Presence, even his "children", much to his delight. All would remain as such until the time known as the "The Turning".

PART II

The Turning: Birth of Tortaurus

Decades passed. His Dark Presence had ruled absolutely and grown bored with the world. The Patrons of his various children had slowly altered a great number of their enslaved masses into their own twisted visage. In doing so they had found that the experiments of the Dark Father had actually reconstructed much of their cellular make up, so much so that their experimental deformities had begun to be passed down throughout the generations of those who had been subjected to the alterations.

These new species that now dominated the once lush and beautiful earth had forgotten of their heritage and looked to the humans with disgust and disdain. They looked upon mankind as if they were the filth of the world and not fit to share their space, treating them like animals.

Until one man, Gregory Prentice rose against the captors and their legions of unholy degradation. He rallied the broken human spirit, slaughtering their captors and releasing others as they went. Travelling across the barren plains the human army swept spirits high and ever vigilant they marched and fought their way to the gates of His Dark Presence's fortress.

There, beneath the black, rusted metal walls they fought. Their mettle met with every foul creature His Dark Presence had ever envisioned…until finally they met with unbridled might Gor-Ga'roth the first Praefectus and personal guard to His Dark Presence. It was Gor-Ga'roth that brought the rebellion to an end, his Harvesters cut down the human scourge like wheat in a field. Torsos were severed from legs, limbs from torsos and heads from necks, until finally Gor-Ga'roth captured Prentice. The human resistance was re-enslaved and Prentice was brought before His Dark Presence.

His Dark Presence was amused with the exploits of Prentice, enthralled with his passion and faith. It was these things that brought His Dark Presence to the decision to perform one final experiment. The Dark Father slowly committed and prolonged every torture imaginable to Prentice’s frail human body. Gouging him with needles, stretching his joints, burning his flesh, depriving him of senses, enhancing others…each torture more severe than the last, in an ever growing ladder of pain and suffering until Prentice could feel no more. This continued until finally, he had become numb to pain all together. Prentice was then filled with a portion of His Dark Presence's essence forging him to be the Patron of a new lineage of children, one which would come to be known as the Sati-Tormentus.

It was when Prentice appeared to the masses that he acquired his new name and title, a word being chanted by the other Patrons and their clans, Tortaurus. As a gift from His Dark Presence to his new son, Tortaurus found himself with his very own Praefectus' and unaltered slaves. Those humans, who had joined him in life, would now serve him in his death. And so, Tortaurus did recreate his once subordinate human friends and twist them in his own image. Tortured souls void of color and unknown to pain.

The Turning: Fall of His Dark Presence

Some fifteen years after this rebirth as a Patron, Tortaurus grew sickened by His Dark Presence's supreme rule over all and once again rose in arms against The Dark Father. A fearless army of painless warriors and secrets guided him through the spiral of madness which had brought him to this state of being. He felt certain this time that nothing, not even the other Patrons or Praefectus could stand in his way.

Once again they stormed the fortress of His Dark Presence, but this time it was not for freedom, for faith or mankind. No, this time it was for power, this time it was for Tortaurus and Tortaurus alone! The waling pitch of madness echoing from the spinning blades of the Sati drowned out the cries of the Homine-Mechanicus and slowly drove them into a screaming frenzy of madness. The blades of the Sati foot soldiers made quick work of the vital parts of their mechanical brothers as they sliced their way to His Dark Presence's main gates. With surgical precision the cold and calculating Sati army cut through the defenses of His Dark Presence's outer walls.

The battle ensued within the walls for three days. Until finally, the army of the Sati stood at the steps of His Dark Presence's anti-chambers. Tortaurus proceeded to call out his Dark Father to combat, challenging him for the right of dominion over the factions, challenging his divine power and command.

His Divine Presence accepted the challenge and the two fought in plain view of all, beneath a rust colored sky. His Divine Presence knew this day would come, as well he knew that it would be Tortaurus that would do the challenging, and more so, he knew that neither would win. For Tortaurus had already endured every pain His Dark Presence could imagine he had traveled through the Spiral of madness and returned with secrets unknown even to His Dark Presence, but neither would tire, neither would die, and thus unknowingly the two were locked in a battle without end. Blades ripping, flesh tearing, neither would submit. It was after two days of battle that His Dark Presence finally split the ground beneath them, sending them falling into the void of the slowly dying earth, falling and fighting for eternity. Leaving the Patrons without His Dark Presence and the Sati without their Patron. It was this that brought upon the darkest time known to the world, a time of chaos and war, known to us all as "The Harrowing", when the forces of the Patron's would wage war upon each other for control of His Dark Presence's throne.

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There are a couple other stories set later in this world that I have...one in particular that begins the journey into the world of the Sati-Tormentus. Anyhoo..just wanted to give peoples a little something to read and see what they thought of it all.

This is the Goblin, over and out!

[Nathan Caroland]

I like it. Flows very well and leaves one interested in more when finished with it.

Welcome to the Wyrd. Post the rest please.

[Klute]

I like it too.

Great background that is open to loads of sub stories and plots etc.

Would also be good as inspiration for miniatures......maybe not completely original but that would be difficult when everything has already been done.

[Grumb]

Good Stuff Goblin! Show us some more....

[RedGoblin]

I like it too.

Great background that is open to loads of sub stories and plots etc.

Would also be good as inspiration for miniatures......maybe not completely original but that would be difficult when everything has already been done.

Funny thing is this was originally meant to be fluff for a miniature game. So let me post another little bit of fiction for you all to peek at. As for original, thats one hard thing to really do. Although over at sffworld my one story "Spiral of Tortaurus" has been compared to "A Hand Maids Tale" and "HellRaiser" - I will post that later, its rather long.

Thanks for all the kind words everyone.

Distant Memories

“It was about thirty years ago. Some of the older among us remember it quite well, but it’s more like a dream for me.

A vision of hope…

A calm place I can only escape to when exhaustion finally takes hold and forces me to rest.

My last true memory of that time is only a short one, before it all happened.

I am but a child looking up at the sky, its blue, cluttered with clouds that look so soft and white. In the distance the clouds hang high above what seems to be an army of immobile reflective giants. I hear the familiar sound of people. It's almost overwhelming to hear so many voices.

The ground is soft beneath my feet and to my left I can see water, a huge pool of water, right in the middle of the grass. Slowly I begin to see the shapes of the voices, droves of people. Parents are playing with children; children are playing with animals… so many people. Briefly, in the distance I can make out the sound of birds chirping and dogs barking, but all of this is interrupted by the faint sound of music.

It's so peaceful, so beautiful… I’ve never seen its likeness since.

I’m not sure if the blue sky of my dreams is in fact a memory of my past or one of fancy being woven by the stories we tell of a time that was. I often find myself questioning if that time ever truly existed or if it is just some form of propaganda we tell ourselves to keep our hopes alive.

If those blue skies had ever truly existed they have long since abandoned this forsaken world.

The sky we now know is scorched, a psychotic medley of black and rust, as if painted by some maddened artist amidst his final seizure, a sight which could darken even the noblest of egos. The reflective immobile army has long been dead; their once magnificent structures replaced by dismal landscapes and twisted architecture to make way for the cities of the Slave Masters. The pathways we once used for transportation are now lined with suspended cages for the insubordinate and those that have attempted to escape. These poor souls find themselves left to waste away and have their bones picked at by the buzzards and crows that have come to this land. I have heard some say that within the limits of the city one can witness even more atrocious acts of punishment for the disobedient.

The surrounding suburbs, where I believe myself to be from, are now home to the breeding pens and mining holes, where the Slave Masters keep those who are not worthy of being pawns in their armies. Millions must have been lost since the time of my memory, countless lives either lost to death or worse, to the mind controlling Slave Masters. The once lush soil and grass recalled by my dreams has since decomposed into a dust that can barely hold itself to the surface of the world, finding itself scattered in a brisk wind to flow atop the air and land at some unknown destination. The sounds and sights of old have all left this place. Everything that was, is now but a fleeting memory, a dream, traded for a collective nightmare that we cannot awaken from.

We all find hope in our own personal ways. Some look for it within the stories they tell, some find it in prayer to a god that many believe to be dead and fewer still find their hope in the endless battle for survival.

I don’t honestly know which of these groups I would count myself amongst. While my dreams seem to be finding hope in my memories and I often find myself asking some unknown being “Why?” I can’t wholeheartedly state that I am either a story follower or a believer in some omnipotent power. While I do find a modicum of solace in slaying the abominations that have come to rule my section of the world, I do not find hope within the death that is being dealt.

Death, something that we have all come to know rather well. There are but forty of us left this cycle and as I cipher this, I look at my fellows and see the hope I had spoken of is at an extreme low. You can feel it in the air and hear it in the voices. The prayers have lessened, the stories have grown old and the war has never been won.

The dust season is growing near. Our only hope to survive the next few cycles is to either move on to another place using the dust storms as cover or stay where we are and hope our supplies hold out.”

He immediately stopped reading the text within the memoirs after hearing the heavy hitting sound of approaching footsteps; footsteps that only a Mechanicus makes. A creature that was once of human decent and has since had its flesh married to machine. Bone and muscle now mixed with wire and steel in an unholy union that serves only it’s master. His hand quickly traded the journal for the kylar-blade he had earlier sheathed in the dust beside him. The blade was large, nearly four foot in length with a hilt measuring a full eighteen inches and wrapped in the treated skin of his first Sati kill. It had been a long time since he had found himself in the situation where his only option was close-quarters combat, but his MP-cartridge had gone empty a few days ago. His free hand quickly fell to his belt, flipping the switch to reactivate the oxy-filter, then reattaching his breathing unit and goggles over his face. He knew that it would only be a few more moments before the approaching monstrosity would gain sight of the shack he was currently hold-up in and come to have a peek at what was inside.

Being caught inside the shack was definitely a poor strategical move on his part, but they had never tracked him for this long before. Not to mention the fact that resting in the open during an el-storm was definitely not something to be done by choice.

The ground began to tremble beneath his feet.

“Definitely a Mechanicus” he thought, nothing else could weigh so much that its steps would shake the very ground. From the sound of it, it was one of the larger of the abominations.

Pressing his face to the wall he peered through the spaces attempting to get a brief glimpse of the advancing adversary.

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Well there is a little more for ya.

Opinions are definately welcome.

[Nathan Caroland]

You have a nice style of writing - quite giving it to us in pieces and keeping us guessing damnit!

[Celtic Lilly]

I like it as well Mr. RedGoblin.

[RedGoblin]

You have a nice style of writing - quite giving it to us in pieces and keeping us guessing damnit!

Sorry but thats all I have it in is in pieces. LOL The Distant Memories story was just a short story to give me an idea of the landscape of the world..and I like where I ended it with you not knowing what happened to the poor guy armed only with his sword. haha

The first was just to introduce His Dark Presence to the story and get everything moving...

THe next one is a bit long so I will post it as its own thread, called Spiral of Tortaurus...

Thanks for all the kind words guys glad peoples like it.