- Joined
- Nov 24, 2007
- Messages
- 4,382
Harrow.
Nearly four months and nothing posted from me? Such scandal, I'm sure
But here I am! With a fresh little bit of text to offer. I'm currently well on
my way of writing what I would like to call "my first book," but I'm certainly
not confident enough to name it as such yet. But the point I'm trying to make
is that as I go along with it, I will likely post less here, seeing as I'd like to
save most of it for a potential publishing.
But I think I can afford to share this one with you:
The Screaming Coast
“My slumber has brought me loathing. Loathing beyond the darkest illusions of delusionary dreams, I fester, as the darkness around me grows. These waters are twisted and cruel, the cosmic toxin of your brethren fertilise my family. The shifts of the sea has spread it far, all the way, to where the Kyan are now making their home beneath the waves. They did not die, and like the dark water, they drifted far away. Now, blessed by the sea-spirits Cerpentho and Apentho, they have adapted to the depths.”
“I sense your loathing, I sense your mind. It holds potential beyond the visions you can comprehend. We may have to deal with the wicked dragon queen and her ilk eventually, but do not despair, ours will be the world where madness reigns; ours will be the world where you will feast. Dread will fill every vessel you bestow, and you shall feed on richness in such strain.”
“I know you to speak truth, I feel you like a dimming beacon in my bones. I am yours and you will conquer, through me and my kind the world will tremble, and I will grow on the world like a tumour.”
“My liege?” Jamez finally broke the silence, a silence that had lasted for three days. They were camped on a shore that humans called “The Screaming Coast” – Here the wind cut to the bones and carved into ones very soul, eternally howling like a thousand wargs. It was due southeast of Sinsbourg, beside the Daggermouth range, a bristle sad beach-mouth opening the Morran marshes out to the southern seas. He did not quite understand why they called them marshes though, as they more resembled a swamp. With looming pinewood and spruces framing shallow ponds and streams. His lord and the Lichsworns presence had brought a chill beyond the wild winds of the sea to this place: As he had walked the marshes, he had seen a thin white sheet of frost covering the slowly freezing underbrush and reeds. The ponds now had the tiniest film of mirroring ice covering its edges and the less robust flora was withering away. A chilling anomaly to drive you mad, even more so than Jamez already felt. His lord inclined his head slightly. “I don’t mean to disturb your--- Nothing, but. We have been here for three days, and we are running low on supplies. You know, we humans need food and such. What exactly are we waiting for?”
“A friend.” Came the sneaking whisper of his lord’s mind aching psyche communication. From the looks on the faces of his men, he had apparently done it to everyone.
“Oh.” He merely responded. He regarded his lord; the frail decrepitly deranged “old man” would have looked foolish where he stood in the water. If it had not been for the eerie blur that surrounded him and the tiny veil of ice circling his feet, clear indicators beyond the general aura of discomfort surrounding his lord that this was no mere man, but something far worse.
Then he turned to walk away. Though as he did, he noticed a curiosity, the Lichsworn had all pulled back to the marsh, framing his men like a wall of the dead. As he contemplated the philosophical meaning of this, he heard the tiniest plink, like a drop falling into a pond, behind him, and suddenly he shivered with an uncontrollable dread. As if all his nightmares were on the brink of becoming true. In his surprise of feeling such a thing, and maybe a little because of the sound, he turned again to look out across the sea. The still sea. There was no wind, no waves, no sound, only the growing tension of dread within his bones. Another plink, this time closer somehow, and another. Then he saw movement, not only a little movement, it was as if the entire ocean floor had come to life: Crawling, skittering creatures like skeletal octopodes broke the surface of the still water and crept toward the humans.
Jamez froze. As he stared fixedly toward the sea, larger shapes emerged. Curious beasts like crabs and lobsters the size of small men, walruses and even some moderately sized whales, all covered by these twisted octopus creatures and all strangely mutated. It looked as if the creatures had pierced the beasts and were now somehow controlling them.
Among them all, a colossal freak of nature towered above the rest; it looked to be a mix between a stingray and an oversized octopus like its smaller cousins. He slowly circled his gaze back toward the marshes. Now he heard, and saw, the chaos that unfolded: The creatures were catching hold of the humans, and boring their twisted tentacles into their skin and heads, while the Lichsworn was holding those who attempted to flee back. The screams were agonizing, the sight horrifying, he thought he knew vulgarity, and he thought he knew dread… This made even him tremble.
The tiniest flicker of movement caught his eye; his lord was staring straight at him. Those deep, eerie and soulless eyes burrowing deep into his very soul. “Don’t worry.” He whispered inside his head “they only consume the mentally sane.”
Only then did Jamez sigh inwardly in relief, and started contemplating the philosophical essence of the new meaning of “The Screaming Coast.” He smiled.
Comments and constructive criticism of any kind is most welcome
Copyrighted: Mats Rafoss
Nearly four months and nothing posted from me? Such scandal, I'm sure
But here I am! With a fresh little bit of text to offer. I'm currently well on
my way of writing what I would like to call "my first book," but I'm certainly
not confident enough to name it as such yet. But the point I'm trying to make
is that as I go along with it, I will likely post less here, seeing as I'd like to
save most of it for a potential publishing.
But I think I can afford to share this one with you:
The Screaming Coast
“My slumber has brought me loathing. Loathing beyond the darkest illusions of delusionary dreams, I fester, as the darkness around me grows. These waters are twisted and cruel, the cosmic toxin of your brethren fertilise my family. The shifts of the sea has spread it far, all the way, to where the Kyan are now making their home beneath the waves. They did not die, and like the dark water, they drifted far away. Now, blessed by the sea-spirits Cerpentho and Apentho, they have adapted to the depths.”
“I sense your loathing, I sense your mind. It holds potential beyond the visions you can comprehend. We may have to deal with the wicked dragon queen and her ilk eventually, but do not despair, ours will be the world where madness reigns; ours will be the world where you will feast. Dread will fill every vessel you bestow, and you shall feed on richness in such strain.”
“I know you to speak truth, I feel you like a dimming beacon in my bones. I am yours and you will conquer, through me and my kind the world will tremble, and I will grow on the world like a tumour.”
“My liege?” Jamez finally broke the silence, a silence that had lasted for three days. They were camped on a shore that humans called “The Screaming Coast” – Here the wind cut to the bones and carved into ones very soul, eternally howling like a thousand wargs. It was due southeast of Sinsbourg, beside the Daggermouth range, a bristle sad beach-mouth opening the Morran marshes out to the southern seas. He did not quite understand why they called them marshes though, as they more resembled a swamp. With looming pinewood and spruces framing shallow ponds and streams. His lord and the Lichsworns presence had brought a chill beyond the wild winds of the sea to this place: As he had walked the marshes, he had seen a thin white sheet of frost covering the slowly freezing underbrush and reeds. The ponds now had the tiniest film of mirroring ice covering its edges and the less robust flora was withering away. A chilling anomaly to drive you mad, even more so than Jamez already felt. His lord inclined his head slightly. “I don’t mean to disturb your--- Nothing, but. We have been here for three days, and we are running low on supplies. You know, we humans need food and such. What exactly are we waiting for?”
“A friend.” Came the sneaking whisper of his lord’s mind aching psyche communication. From the looks on the faces of his men, he had apparently done it to everyone.
“Oh.” He merely responded. He regarded his lord; the frail decrepitly deranged “old man” would have looked foolish where he stood in the water. If it had not been for the eerie blur that surrounded him and the tiny veil of ice circling his feet, clear indicators beyond the general aura of discomfort surrounding his lord that this was no mere man, but something far worse.
Then he turned to walk away. Though as he did, he noticed a curiosity, the Lichsworn had all pulled back to the marsh, framing his men like a wall of the dead. As he contemplated the philosophical meaning of this, he heard the tiniest plink, like a drop falling into a pond, behind him, and suddenly he shivered with an uncontrollable dread. As if all his nightmares were on the brink of becoming true. In his surprise of feeling such a thing, and maybe a little because of the sound, he turned again to look out across the sea. The still sea. There was no wind, no waves, no sound, only the growing tension of dread within his bones. Another plink, this time closer somehow, and another. Then he saw movement, not only a little movement, it was as if the entire ocean floor had come to life: Crawling, skittering creatures like skeletal octopodes broke the surface of the still water and crept toward the humans.
Jamez froze. As he stared fixedly toward the sea, larger shapes emerged. Curious beasts like crabs and lobsters the size of small men, walruses and even some moderately sized whales, all covered by these twisted octopus creatures and all strangely mutated. It looked as if the creatures had pierced the beasts and were now somehow controlling them.
Among them all, a colossal freak of nature towered above the rest; it looked to be a mix between a stingray and an oversized octopus like its smaller cousins. He slowly circled his gaze back toward the marshes. Now he heard, and saw, the chaos that unfolded: The creatures were catching hold of the humans, and boring their twisted tentacles into their skin and heads, while the Lichsworn was holding those who attempted to flee back. The screams were agonizing, the sight horrifying, he thought he knew vulgarity, and he thought he knew dread… This made even him tremble.
The tiniest flicker of movement caught his eye; his lord was staring straight at him. Those deep, eerie and soulless eyes burrowing deep into his very soul. “Don’t worry.” He whispered inside his head “they only consume the mentally sane.”
Only then did Jamez sigh inwardly in relief, and started contemplating the philosophical essence of the new meaning of “The Screaming Coast.” He smiled.
Comments and constructive criticism of any kind is most welcome
Copyrighted: Mats Rafoss
