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Post by Kwan on Jan 16, 2014 14:08:52 GMT -5
* * * Introduction * * * Beneath the ground something dark slithered and crawled its way out and into the new world. With a face full of fangs, and more legs than possible, it pushed at the earth in stabbing movements, keen to be released. Up there, on the surface, were things, things worth eating, things that might be tasty. Only one person would even be aware of its coming and that would be its Master. All else would fall prey to its dagger-like teeth and viscous drool. It was the dark, the nightmares were made real, fashioned in to a beast, and it had a name. Azmol. In its wake cities would fall and families be extinguished; just as Master planned. Nobody would stand in her way anymore. Nobody would hurt her; nobody would dare.
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Post by Kwan on Jan 24, 2014 18:42:31 GMT -5
Entry One Beneath the ground something dark slithered and crawled its way out and into the new world. With a face full of fangs, and more legs than possible, it pushed at the earth in stabbing movements, keen to be released. Up there, on the surface, were things, things worth eating, things that might be tasty. Only one person would even be aware of its coming and that would be its Master. All else would fall prey to its dagger-like teeth and viscous drool. It was the dark, the nightmares were made real, fashioned in to a beast, and it had a name. Azmol. In its wake cities would fall and families be extinguished; just as Master planned. Nobody would stand in her way anymore. Nobody would hurt her; nobody would dare. She reveled in the prospect of once again being freed upon the over world, turning it over and over in her mind the way her serpentine body had writhed in the screams of countless legions in the past. For eons she lay dormant beneath the subsurface, tortured and twisted by heat and pressure unimaginable to all but her tangled body upon which its fury has burned for countless generations. Now, at the Master’s call, she stirs, clawing ravenously to the surface. She imagined her blissful emergence. The earth would tremble, small at first but building with each passing igneous layer torn away by her myriad clawed tentacles. Shivers in the night to wake the innocent from slumber, and days later rolling waves of earth and stone leveling all in their path. She cast her mind outward, she wished to see the surface, to glimpse a preview of this world as it is before she ruins it utterly. To know the beauty she so desperately longed to destroy. Up, up, and still further her consciousness ascends breaking the surface to world of inky black. Particulate matter swirled about her in perpetual ash-fall. The atmosphere was fluid and cold; she feared this world had not recovered from her last emergence. Then her shriveled heart skipped a beat as she realized with glee that she was underwater; so far beneath the ocean no light could penetrate. Good. Despite her unwillingness to admit it, her eternity at the core had left her atrophied and weak. Some time freed from that prison, hidden from the sun’s toxic light would do her good. Then, when her body was strong Azmol the Defiler will emerge from boiling seas to wreak her wrath upon the unsuspecting world above. Such is the Master’s Will. Her body still climbing she focused on the Master far in the distance and cast her essence toward land. There she found thousands, of insignificant creatures, metallic exoskeletons glimmered in the sunlight and within dwelt still smaller fleshy beasts. Great pillars of concrete and steel reached skyward, penetrating a great cloud of orange fog. Still more of the flesh creatures scurried about the base and interior of another skeletal column. Unfinished. So complex, these flesh beasts. Such intelligence to create these settlements, to carve out these great towers to challenge the very sky itself. Such hubris to believe any of it could last. She would enjoy tearing this all down; very much. She longed to reach out with her mind, to touch these structures with what weak force her will could muster. To begin taking it all apart, piece by tiny piece. The anticipation was getting the best of her; deep beneath the surface her fanged maw began to salivate. Azmol flinched, suddenly, physically as though as though struck. She recoiled. It took her a moment to understand what had occurred, so long had it been since she’d felt the link with a Master. It was his pain she felt. The bond was growing stronger, she was getting closer. Pulling her attention from the endless milling about of the flesh beasts, she reached out to the Master toward his distress. She could feel him more completely now. He was scared. . . Famished. . . Indignant! She felt empathy for the first time in what seemed like forever. She approached a flesh beast domicile. It’s ramshackle construction already in a state of decay and disrepair. Within she could sense chaos. The familiar crash of destruction on a microscopic scale. Fleshbeast voices elevated in anger and wrath. Behind it all a shrieking the likes of which she had never known. A sense of joy swelled within her, truly the Master’s reign would begin here. She pushed herself into the home where a pair of fleshbeasts lashed out against one another. They hurled voices and objects. She sensed a sexual tension, revealing them to be a mated pair. The male, tall for his kind, hand his hand extend toward the female. His fingers coated in blood from a wound on his arm. The female stood just beyond a four legged obstruction, at metal talon the length of her forearm in her hand. Though she carried the weapon which had caused the wound, physically she was the worse for wear. Bruised flesh marked her arms and face, her mouth was bleeding and one eye had begun to swell shut. With her other hand she held a device to hear ear and was shouting into it. Azmol read their signatures in the air. The female stank of guilt and rage inflated to mask a self-loathing that nearly made Azmol choke. The male oozed betrayal and lust, cut with a deep sorrow and the physical scent of inebriation. Neither of these petty pathetic creatures was the Master. Azmol left the flesh beasts to their devices. These two might dispatch one another. She followed the sound of the shrieking past a wooden door into another chamber. There the Master stood; angry and frightened and alone. There bound within his wooden cage he cried out his hunger and indignity with the unbridled purity only an infant could muster. Azmol felt an instant kinship. She made calming sounds within the Masters mind. Sounds which told him, Calm yourself Master, I am here, I am coming.The younglings cries died in his throat. Azmol moved herself around the chamber, examining the cage from every side, seeking its weakness. The Master’s eyes followed her. This was not the Master she had expected. Though this situation had it’s advantages. Now she had time, time to lie in wait, time to gather her strength, to groom this Master as no other. This would be her greatest emergence yet. But until then, until that time when the crumbling ruins of this world were crushed beneath her innumerable toes, Azmol the Defiler, the Destroyer of Hope, the Nightmare Given Flesh must become Azmol the Mother. She cooed once more in the Masters mind, Until that time, Master, nobody will hurt you; nobody would dare.
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Post by Kwan on Jan 24, 2014 18:43:04 GMT -5
Entry Two Beneath the ground something dark slithered and crawled its way out and into the new world. With a face full of fangs, and more legs than possible, it pushed at the earth in stabbing movements, keen to be released. Up there, on the surface, were things, things worth eating, things that might be tasty.Only one person would even be aware of its coming and that would be its Master. All else would fall prey to its dagger-like teeth and viscous drool. It was the dark, the nightmares were made real, fashioned in to a beast, and it had a name. Azmol.
In its wake cities would fall and families be extinguished; just as Master planned. Nobody would stand in her way anymore. Nobody would hurt her; nobody would dare.The men and women who walked the streets, who went about their business and got lost in the pettiness of their own lives: they thought themselves to be of high culture and deep knowledge. They thought themselves so advanced, so safe. But as things grow, they grow unwieldy. Things slip… and are forgotten.
But those forgotten do not themselves forget.And Fate moves in stranger ways than the minds of men can tell. In the midst of its unfathomable turning, mortals sometimes learn things that should have remained Secret. Such was the tragic case of the Master. Given every flavor of wealth and indulgence at birth, only to have it stripped upon her tenth year as her parents fell to the inescapable maw of Fate's cruelest tendril: pestilence. Her youth was painted with the glisten of chrome and platinum. Her eyes and mind were filled with wonderful marvels of a modern age. Love was hers, and safety. She had a home, and friends, and the air was light upon her breast. The skies were free of clouds or rain and joy was to be found at any hour, at any place, in even the very smallest of places. Her eyes were wide and awestruck and Creation itself blossomed around her like the sprouting wildflowers of Spring. Two figures, full of light and warmth, always watching over her. Protected and warm, nestled in their patient touch. Her world was hinged on their effortless, unbroken presence. She gave over all caution and guise to them. She laid her full weight on their strong arms. Her smiles and her laughter were pure and clean. But all that has Breath must return to the Void. All that has life must give in and fade. Each thing which grows, in time, will decay. Illness moves in merciless ways and pays no mind to the path it takes. On the floor of all forests are a few green leaves, for the winds of Autumn consult not the opinions of the trees they lash. Nature promises no pity. Nary a thought was paid to the Girl after the wake. No one thought to give her a new home, or new parents, or new hope. No one thought of her much at all. Unfamiliar rooms and unwelcoming faces turned to narrow streets and dim, flickering florescents. Feigned support gave way to unanswered calls and unopened doors. Shadows moved in strange places; dogs barking at the darkness, chills crawling her spine. Nothing there. Never anything there but shadows. Always shadows. The Girl was left to the whims of smog and storm, to the cruelty of the elements that fought tirelessly against the headstrong advancements of those sheltered and pampered silhouettes that pranced blindly under the brighter lights of the city. Those more fortunate than she. Those to whom Fate, for unknowable reasons, chose to favor over her. Why had they? How could they? Strangers turned to cruelty and selfishness. No coin was spared in generosity; no kindness was offered – not even crumbs to quell her thinning flesh. Her mind turned inward, to grim memories and dark reflections. Whispers in the dark; flickers of the flame. Remembrances of family and fortune turned to cruel wisps and distortions that all but disappeared from the light of recollection. The Girl’s own thoughts came to haunt her. Violent thoughts; vivid thoughts, taunting and shouting their malice and their lies. Twisted faces and false memories burning the few heirlooms that remained of what had been her life. Could she still discern the truth from the hallucinations? How far did the corruption reach? How fully could she trust her own mind, her own memory?Dad? Mom?Her own consciousness became the most ruthless villain and she recoiled to sedation and the safety of deep and dreamless sleep. She fueled her retreat with all manner of chemicals, curled into dark corners and lost to the world. But the limbs of Fate grow always, and it had not abandoned the Girl. Not yet. Not entirely.
In the darkest of hours, she found Something. Something, Anything. Something curious and real and alive and separate. Something that ignited the dim embers of her heart with a heat and a strength not known in so many long years. She found something that had been meant to be forgotten; whose very existence had been hidden in the deepest, farthest corners of man’s knowing.The labyrinth of consciousness winds further than most mortals would ever traverse. Far past the inexplicable bumps in the night and the faceless lurks of forgotten nightmares. Beyond the serenity and stillness of the deepest mystic contemplation. Kept under the lock and key of sanity itself. Concealed behind unthinkable thoughts; sealed within the fractals of wakeless dreaming.
Who spoke of Dawn to the Timeless King? One cannot raise walls against that which has been Forgotten. Who's whispering? A bird thirsts in the North. The Archetype is broken.
The stars are gone. I can't see anything. I cannot know myself. Where did my thoughts go in the Night? Does the journey end here? God, no, please.
We've been here before. Waking and Forgetting. Losing Time. All the clocks have stopped. I watched Them marching through the fields, their metal limbs like boundless knives.
The Trees shelter a few Treasured Meanings. The charge was Heresy. All Being is Heresy to the Emptiness of Truth.
Am I an Imposter to Myself? Rejoice and Mourn, for you belong to this Sleeping World. Heaven does not know you, Azmol.Azmol, she called it. The fiend in fathomless chains.But the fiend needed something even more precious than the Girl had known; more than any finite being could ever know. Liberation. Liberation from the bounds of the Unmade. Liberation from the unspeakable void of nothingness. Liberation from nonexistence itself. It longed to Be. It needed to Be. It hungered for everything.We mortals make choices constantly. Even the most broken slave can choose the tune in his head or where his eyes fall. But This one had not even that. It was enslaved to Uncreation. It was enslaved to the unspeakable dark. Its mind was single-pointed. It could only long. It could only desire. To be liberated. To be unchained. It desired infinitely. It hungered infinitely. Azmol. The Fiend in Chains. Whatever force had enslaved Him was beyond what the Girl could even contemplate, and further yet beyond what she wished to know. He that once crested the sea of stars, who grinded worlds in his infinite jaws; he that danced madly among the nebulae and sang with howls that swallowed light itself – chained. Enslaved. Unmade.But not for very much longer. What could a little Girl do, who had not even the promise of hope? What could any mortal do when beset before such Temptation? When offered such an uncommon gift? Who would not lunge for the opiate of optimism, even if just to stop the pain, even if just for one second? For Azmol was not the only one who longed for liberation. And not the only one whose chains could not be seen by the eyes of men.
Soon, her tears would cease. The visions would cease. The Madness, the taunting, twisting dreams that chased her, that lurked always, watching, watching... would be gone. Azmol would end everything. Swallow the world whole. No pain. No pain.The Girl’s heart had longed for Azmol’s creation with an equal flame to Azmol’s longing. In total defeat, in total surrender, she herself became Desire itself. She, herself, became pure craving. All had faded from view as the crested moon behind the clouds of a tremendous storm. All but the viciousness of her desire for escape.
Dark incantations. Chants and prayers. Sigils and conjurations. Seals in fouler tongues than the mouths of men could speak. The Black.
From across the bridge that binds life and death, across the bond that welds that which Is and that which Isn’t, Azmol’s slumbering heart was given a very real beating.
With Her own heart shattered and innocence swooning, for a sheer moment of sanctuary from the madness, the torture, the Girl unleashed damnation upon the Earth. She, for once in all her years, chose her own Fate and took the reins of fortune for herself. But Fate, of course, cannot be leashed. Destinies cannot be directed.
Devils have no Masters.
When the cities finally crumbled, the Girl’s eyes were free of tears. She thought, perhaps, she’d mourn when the time came. Her doubts, far hidden in the recesses of her quaking mind, crept forth. Thoughts that despite all her hate and all her sorrow, when the flames finally emerged from the great valleys and the oceans came to boil and burst, that perhaps she would feel remorse for the death of the world and for her role in its damnation.Instead, she laughed.The Girl laughed at a joke that even the Gods could not hear. She laughed heartily and deeply and she laughed loud. She laughed at every single drop of sorrow and every single spark of anger that she had ever felt. She laughed at her own desires and temptations. She laughed at Azmol’s infinite might and the rain of death that followed him. All of existence was absurdity. As a witness to such limitless devastation, when face to face with the infinite shadow and the unfathomable void; when looking Azmol in his light-swallowing eyeless gape… meaning and purpose were swallowed like all light and thought and possibility. Everything wasn’t. All past and future and Time was a split instant of randomized quanta. Mathematics in a void, exploding in a cloud of possibility and collapsing instantaneously.The Girl saw a vision of her parents; her memory was restored in full. A slideshow of years, vivid and vibrant and bright and perfect flashed before her eyes in timeless space.She floated in emptiness.She felt everything. She felt everything all at once.The girl's life was before her, Present, now. She drew a breath like the sweetest freshness of the warmest Spring. Light and color. Warmth and safety. Two figures, then one. White light.
Endless white light.All events were illusion. All self and memory and pain and thought was a flash and burst and simmer and nothing.The Girl stood upon the precipice of infinite flame. Time and Fate burst open. A single point of pure fire, and even that vanished. The blankness of everything.All was laughter.
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Post by Kwan on Jan 28, 2014 20:46:22 GMT -5
Entry One Reviews Loved it! You really went with the flavor of the intro but added your own twist to the end. Well done. *** This was a little confusing around the time the monster found the parents of the master. I really wasn't sure what was going on and it was distracting that I didn't understand or know. It took me a moment to catch up but I feel it could have been smoother. I really liked that you had the master as a baby still. That was an interesting turn of events and actually very clever. I feel like this could develop into something really very fun and dark to read! *** I liked this. It's not something I'd miss for not reading. It's not something that will probably stick in the mind. But I don't feel like my time was wasted. This was a nice little story. It could have done with a little bit of polishing. There were a few mistakes, a missing word, a misspelling, a bit of poor word choice that overall detracted from the story. It disrupted the flow. And perhaps, that's the biggest flaw with the piece. The flow. It took a while to kick off, then the story started to build, and then we get a paragraph description of about the couple that was just too sterile and it disrupted the flow. If the couple were described a little better then the whole story would have flowed nicer. But there were some excellent lines scattered throughout. Azmol felt alive, but foreign. Which is good. And the twist of who the Master is was clever. I didn't quite spot that straight away. And nice use of recycling the beginning at the end. So good work. Nice story. *** I was confused by this one. First, by the changing of the tense that never seemed to settle. Then, by strange, small errors like words typed twice. Then, by just the plot itself and the way it tied itself up. This felt like the rough draft of a story that wasn't really polished or revised the way it should have been, and it probably was exactly that. Shame it didn't turn into more. Entry Two Reviews I couldn’t finish it. It just didn’t hold my attention. Too much flair and not enough substance. *** I think I left the most confusing and also most difficult to review until the end. I loved that you kept it epic all the way through. It was a constant voice-over of amazing. I'm not sure I understood the colouring scheme though? And the last paragraph I had to highlight so I could read it. This did detract from my enjoyment. I suspect it may have been something to do with her losing control, etc, and maybe dying? It was a bit confusing but the colour didn't add to the story for me! I liked the rest of the formatting though, including the strikeout, which is almost the perfect way to do a train of thought and very realistic. You obviously enjoyed writing this! *** I really didn't want to like this. Because I felt that the formatting tricks went too far and sometimes only served to further serve another formatting trick in of itself. Wankery if you will. But I can't deny the fact that it was well-written. It had a poetic, timeless quality to it. I enjoyed reading the words that you wrote. Some things felt thrown in to make the story seem more artsy and poetic than it actually was. But I liked the idea of Azmol, the Fiends in Chain. There was a Lovecraft-esque quality to it. The girl became less interesting the more we learnt about Azmol, though. Which was problematic because it was her story and it was her at the end. So, I don't know. It was well-written. It was interesting. It was wankery. It was a little unbalanced. I think, though, I'm glad I read it. I enjoyed it. It was -good-. Well done. And hey, at least the Nikon store is still standing.
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Post by ASGetty ((Zovo)) on Feb 8, 2014 15:49:42 GMT -5
Number 1 is mine. I did have plans for exploring it a little more in depth, but a power outage which lasted a while longer than anticipated cut my polishing time significantly.
I fell in love with the idea of a toddler or infant summoning this ancient evil and sort of living with it as an imaginary friend for the early years of it's childhood. This incredibly ancient and powerful entity being forced into tea-parties and mischievous games of youth all the while harboring the desire for utter destruction only to have the child eventually re-banish it as he or she grows out of having an imaginary friend. But, as noted, I ran short of time.
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Post by Kaez on Feb 8, 2014 15:55:39 GMT -5
Number 1 is mine. I did have plans for exploring it a little more in depth, but a power outage which lasted a while longer than anticipated cut my polishing time significantly. I fell in love with the idea of a toddler or infant summoning this ancient evil and sort of living with it as an imaginary friend for the early years of it's childhood. This incredibly ancient and powerful entity being forced into tea-parties and mischievous games of youth all the while harboring the desire for utter destruction only to have the child eventually re-banish it as he or she grows out of having an imaginary friend. But, as noted, I ran short of time. If you'd fully executed that vision, it would've been badass. Shame.
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Post by ASGetty ((Zovo)) on Feb 8, 2014 17:06:39 GMT -5
Number 1 is mine. I did have plans for exploring it a little more in depth, but a power outage which lasted a while longer than anticipated cut my polishing time significantly. I fell in love with the idea of a toddler or infant summoning this ancient evil and sort of living with it as an imaginary friend for the early years of it's childhood. This incredibly ancient and powerful entity being forced into tea-parties and mischievous games of youth all the while harboring the desire for utter destruction only to have the child eventually re-banish it as he or she grows out of having an imaginary friend. But, as noted, I ran short of time. If you'd fully executed that vision, it would've been badass. Shame. I know right!? It's funny too, because I'd had the first round story and did the whole Hell thing and while waiting for round two I'm going, "I'd really like to get away from the whole demons/hells/death thing I always do. Think I'll try something different." Then they give me Azmol and I'm like, "Fuck."
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Post by James on Feb 8, 2014 17:10:19 GMT -5
If you'd fully executed that vision, it would've been badass. Shame. I know right!? It's funny too, because I'd had the first round story and did the whole Hell thing and while waiting for round two I'm going, "I'd really like to get away from the whole demons/hells/death thing I always do. Think I'll try something different." Then they give me Azmol and I'm like, "Fuck." I'm 500 words into a "tall tale" for the King of the Recluse. Tall tales don't need demons, hell and death. You're welcome.
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Post by Kaez on Feb 8, 2014 17:33:03 GMT -5
I know right!? It's funny too, because I'd had the first round story and did the whole Hell thing and while waiting for round two I'm going, "I'd really like to get away from the whole demons/hells/death thing I always do. Think I'll try something different." Then they give me Azmol and I'm like, "Fuck." I'm 500 words into a "tall tale" for the King of the Recluse. Tall tales don't need demons, hell and death. You're welcome. Wooo.
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Post by ASGetty ((Zovo)) on Feb 8, 2014 18:33:34 GMT -5
I know right!? It's funny too, because I'd had the first round story and did the whole Hell thing and while waiting for round two I'm going, "I'd really like to get away from the whole demons/hells/death thing I always do. Think I'll try something different." Then they give me Azmol and I'm like, "Fuck." I'm 500 words into a "tall tale" for the King of the Recluse. Tall tales don't need demons, hell and death. You're welcome. Well nows the time, I've got very little in the tank. I had something back when I came up with the topic, but I think I used it.
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Post by James on Feb 8, 2014 18:36:01 GMT -5
I'm 500 words into a "tall tale" for the King of the Recluse. Tall tales don't need demons, hell and death. You're welcome. Well nows the time, I've got very little in the tank. I had something back when I came up with the topic, but I think I used it. It'll probably take me a while to get done even though it's quite short, so you should have plenty of time. I always thought the King of the Recluse is a great idea and it's sad it has never kicked off.
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