Event 12 Archived by: Darla INGO

Event 12 Archived by: Darla INGO

A glimmer of light, so faint and thin, Danced on the walls, where they had just been. And there on a coffin, with an eerie flair, Sat a figure, half-formed, in the moist and gloomy air.

Damien subdued his head, for he knew respect was due. His master may have questions and he hoped his penance was through.

“Look up, my friend,” the form declared, and Damien looked up so, their eyes locked wide and whims ensnared and through them lifestream flowed.

Damien then obeyed, with his head hanging low, Years of service and submission his loyalty did show. No time to waste, the figure insisted having been cast to generations lost, for time’s a shame and time and a half was eventually forgot.

The figure got up with a creak and a groan, decay still hung from his decomposed bones. Closer it came, a bony hand did reach, to lift Oscar up, from his slumber so meek.

“Damien, I am Starting anew,” With energy newfound glory, the spirit was subdued.

Off they went, a curious trio to be, Alaxandar leading, with an odd sort of glee. They arrived at a ledge, where Thomas did rest, Mangled and broken, a sleep not at rest.

Alaxandar knelt, a spectacle so grand, Thomas jolted and jumped with the touch of a hand. And with evidence and fervor Thomas’s body was renewed, while Damien wrestled as witness to Alaxandar’s chosen few.

A brotherhood formed, unbreakable ties, Damien and Thomas, to the skies they would rise. Eternity beckoned, mysteries to explore, Together they’d face them, forevermore.

Event 12 Archived by: Arthur INGO

Event 12 Archived by: Arthur INGO

In the hushed embrace of the shadowy abyss, Damien and Oscar awoke, the weight of their dreams lifting reluctantly, giving way to a more surreal reality. The very air felt heavy, laden with secrets yet to be unraveled. Their surroundings whispered of forgotten tales and whispered echoes of lost souls, and it was uncharacteristic of Damien, ever the pillar of fortitude, to appear even remotely startled. He clambered to one knee and bowed his head — a reaction emblematic of reverence and fear.

Oscar, however, remained still, his senses aflame with awareness. Amidst the enveloping darkness, a solitary glimmer of light traced a path along the jagged contours of the chasm’s walls. There, upon a makeshift throne fashioned from a peculiar coffin, the figure emerged—a haunting enigma, perched betwixt decay and reawakening.

As the figure shifted, a faint light caught the contours of its visage, casting an eerie illumination upon skinless features. The eye socket, an underdeveloped cavity, teetered on the precipice of fragility—Oscar mused that a sudden motion might just dislodge the eye, leaving it to tumble into the abyss.

“Look at me, Damien,” the figure commanded, a voice as ancient as the bones that supported its form.

Damien’s head ascended, compelled by a force greater than mere obedience. His eyes met the figure’s, a master-subject dynamic infused with a mystical authority.

“I came as soon as I could, sire,” Damien’s words trembled, weighted by the immeasurable gravity of the figure’s presence. “Finding the ark proved a more treacherous journey than anticipated.”

The figure, draped in shadows, stood, stretching languorously, revealing the extent of its decayed form—a body caught betwixt dissolution and regeneration.

“I believe you, Damien,” the figure declared, allowing an undercurrent of weary forgiveness to waver in its tone. “You may rise.”

The obedient servant ascended, and with a gesture, introduced Oscar—the unsuspecting pilot—to the presence that commanded his utmost allegiance.

“He’s our pilot,” Damien murmured, eyes averted in deference.

Drawing nearer, the figure extended its decrepit hand towards Oscar, fingers curling around shoulders with an almost fragile grace. Gently, it lifted him from his supine slumber, standing him upright like a marionette just liberated from the whims of its puppeteer.

“I’m starting anew, Damien,” the figure spoke, a renewed vigor now palpable in its timbre. “This time, everything will be different.”

Damien’s gaze remained respectfully cast downward. “Your wish is my command, sire,” he intoned, caught within daunting authority and a countless lifetimes of devotion.

“Come, we must make haste” the figure beckoned, its semblance imbued with a strange vitality that belied its years of interment. “Have we not squandered enough time already.”

With the servitude of loyal canines, Damien and Oscar trailed behind Alaxandar, following the figure methodically out of the crevice, to the craggy precipice where the lifeless body of Thomas lay — an eerily serene tableau of bloody destruction.

In the newfound light of the opening above, Oscar could discern Alaxandar’s fleshly regeneration, a spectacle of raw vitality birthing new life from the remnants of decay.

To Damien’s astonishment, Alaxandar bowed before the mangled corpse of Thomas. In a feat that defied mortal comprehension, Alaxandar summoned forces unspoken from the aether, harnessing energy from the space between firmament that surrounded him. His hands became conduits of raw power, a symphony of forces that coursed through the void and surged into Thomas’s lifeless form. The air quivered with an otherworldly hum as strands of energy cocooned around Thomas, and the boundaries between life and death trembled in woe.

Thomas’s body convulsed with the resurgence of life, a dance of primordial forces weaving him anew from within. Breath rushed into his lungs, color kissed his cheeks, and his eyes ignited with consciousness.

Damien stood amidst the oscillation of life’s pendulum, his emotions a tempest of relief and jealousy. He was astonished to see Alaxandar perform such a sacred ritual while still so weak and decrepit. The power of Alaxandar was truly astonishing and Damien knew the passage into immortality was not cheap.

From that moment forth, the chasm became a crucible of brotherhood. Side by side, Damien and Thomas embarked on a journey into the heart of eternity, their paths were now forever intertwined, forged of mysticism, they had become the shadows of a past concealed but never forgotten. And thus, within the embrace of the chasm’s darkness, a tale of timeless bond and hidden truths condensed into genesis.

Event 10 Archived by: Beatrice INGO

Event 10 Archived by: Beatrice INGO

Damien, Thomas, and Oscar were falling into darkness. Thomas led the way, then Oscar, and Damien was the last. Mist obscured their view from one another, but there were screams and cries from below followed by the sound of a grotesque impact. There was a stomach churning cracking sound when the screams turned into mush on rocks below. Damien was consumed with regret, he had hoped the special potion they had consumed would have worked, amplifying the lucent DNA enough to interact with the old ways, but it didn’t.

Damien waited for a second impact that did not occur, which meant that Oscar was indeed lucent. As the number of human beings grounded to earth continues to increase, now that the neuron to brain fractal is complete, more and more individuals with begin to express, it was only a matter of time. The vile substance in the vial merely accelerated the process allowing old magic to once again interact with the vessel.

It was the lingering mist at the bottom of the hole that slowed them down, slowly reducing speed and if graceful enough landing soft as a feather.

Thomas was splattered on the rocks and Oscar didn’t like seeing all the blood. He immediately turned and tried to distance himself from the scene.

Damien landed softly next to Thomas’s remains. He felt bad and said, “I thought you had a plan mate,” Then he looked at Oscar wishing that he could exchange one life for another.

Oscar was too scared to say anything. He was scared knowing that Damien wasn’t normal anymore because they had somehow flown a bit while falling and were still alive.

In the hole, there was a narrow path in the rock. They walked through it, and even though it felt like a long way, they finally found the final room of rest. Damien knew it was a special place where the flesh of Alaxandar the Vicious was kept. Oscar was oblivious.

There was a big coffin that stood in the corner of the room. Damien released it from the binds and it toppled over with a loud clang. Revealed on the lid of the casket was a bowl with a jagged edge protruding from the bottom. Damien carefully removed the stone ark from his satchel and placed in in the bowl. He struck the rock with the hilt of his sword until it broke and thick red liquid oozed forth.

They waited for a minute, expecting something to happen, but Oscar didn’t think it was very exciting. “Is that all?” he asked.

“We must wait,” Damien said, finding a spot on the floor to lie down. “Things are going to change very quickly from this point forward, might be your last chance to rest.”

Oscar looked around at the dark and wet floor. He didn’t know what was happening, and they didn’t have anything with them to make camp.

“Try to rest,” Damien said again to Oscar, as he himself found a spot to lay down. The floor was uncomfortable, but Damien’s demeanor was confident that something important was going to happen and knew that the journey ahead would take all the energy they could muster.

Event 10 – Into the Heart of Darkness, by Arthur INGO

Event 10 – Into the Heart of Darkness, by Arthur INGO

In the heart of their harrowing descent, Damien, Thomas, and Oscar plummeted into the gaping maw of darkness. It was Thomas who plunged first, his anguished cries merging with the abyss. Following in his wake, Oscar’s terror-stricken yells sliced through the air. Damien, the last to fall, clenched his teeth against the rush of wind and the haunting wails of his companions’ below.

Yet, amid the cacophony of their descent, Damien’s senses picked up the bone-cracking sound of deep fleshly impact. Air rushing from Thomas’s lungs upon impact made a sickening squelching sound punctuated the abyssal symphony rushing through Damien’s psyche . The vile, the holy elixir that was meant to safeguard them, had faltered. Damien’s resolve crumbled in the face of this gruesome truth.

As Damien plummeted further, a dense mist unfurled beneath them, a magic woven into its fabric. It enfolded them gently, slowing their descent until their feet grazed the ground with a featherlight touch. Thomas lay sprawled and contorted, his life instantly extinguished by the fall, his form gruesomely distorted. Oscar, a quiver of horror in his breath, recoiled from the grisly sight of his comrade’s shattered body.

Damien’s descent ended softly, his landing a stark contrast to the fate that had befallen Thomas. He then knelt beside his friend’s mangled remains, his heart heavy with regret. “I thought you had it in you, Thom,” he murmured, anguish seeping into his voice.

Oscar’s silence was pregnant with fear, his perception of Damien forever altered by their miraculous descent. The very laws of nature had been defied, and Damien, in Oscar’s eyes, now straddled the line between humanity and something else.

A narrow corridor beckoned them forward, a seam in the rock that had swallowed them whole. They treaded down the dimly lit passage, each step carrying the weight of an eternity. A hundred yards stretched endlessly within the chasm’s embrace, time itself a mutable force in this arcane realm.

Finally, they reached their destination— the resting place of Alaxandar the Vicious. For Oscar, the significance remained a mystery, but Damien’s pulse quickened as sweat trickled down his brow. A colossal box loomed in the shadows, and Damien’s trembling hands toppled it over with a resounding thud that reverberated through the chamber.

Damien removed the stone like ark from his satchel and placed it in a bowl-shaped crater on the casket’s lid, inscribed with the cryptic word “Resurgimus.”

In the hollow lay a jagged-edged stone, a patient guardian of a long-awaited secret.

Fingertips brushed the carving that decorated the coffin, as Damien then placed the river stone within the crater. He raised the hilt of his sword, and with a calculated strike, shattered the stone. Warm, crimson liquid spilled forth, a libation to awaken dormant power.

An air of anti-climax lingered as the liquid pooled and dissipated. Oscar’s voice trembled, his anxiety palpable in the dimness. “Is that all?” he inquired, his nerves fraying at the edges.

A knowing smile touched Damien’s lips as he sought solace upon the floor. “Now, we wait,” he answered, his words an invocation of change. He brushed a spot clear of dirt, fashioning a makeshift resting place amidst the gloom.

Oscar’s despair-filled gaze roved the grim expanse around them, a reflection of their meager preparation for this journey. A cold and damp floor greeted them, the embodiment of discomfort and desolation. They were unprepared, adrift in this abyss, alone.

“Rest now,” Damien advised, stretching himself upon the unwelcoming ground. His voice held an undercurrent of promise, “everything is about to change…”.

The impending transformation hung in the air, a palpable electricity sparking between the chasm’s walls. In the midst of shadows and uncertainty, Damien and Oscar lay, their shared destiny poised on the cusp of revelation.

Event 8 Archived by: Darla INGO

Event 8 Archived by: Darla INGO

Through tangled vines and foliage dense, Three travelers trekked, with no common sense. Damien, Thomas, and Oscar so dear, into a jungle wild, their fate obscured by fear.

“Oh, What we do for money!” Damien did exclaim, A promise of easy wealth turned to soured apples and shame. Oscar growled and grumbled for he knew what he had wrought. “I don’t trust you,” he yelled back, drug along in an autocratic plot.

“Worry not my friends,” Damien did jest, “Semantics, mere semantics, let me put your fears to rest.” Yet Thomas still felt doubt, a niggling in his brain, Did Damien say “field,” or was it “airfield” with no refrain?

They marched dead ahead, the jungle’s grip was unrelenting!

Till they reached a great chasm who’s depth’s were not consenting!

“Behold!” cried Damien, with vials of liquid in his hand, “A remedy so ancient, procured from a distant land. A taste to make you buoyant, light as a feather in the mist, so drink up my loyal companions, you don’t want to miss this.

They gulped the vials, the viscosity so strange, A pact formed between them, a brief moment of change. The vials hit the hollow ground, their choices had been made, For better or worse now cometh in a game they’d chose to play.

“Come close,” whispered Damien, with a grin so eager and wide, They all peered into the chasm and inched closer to the side.

Yet as Thomas wavered and attempted to retreat, Damien’s grip held firm and Thomas was thrown into the deep.

Oscar struggled more but his protests were in vain, Damien was stronger than strong, and so easily overcame.

With a heave and a toss, all three were in flight, Into the darkness they tumbled, deeper into the night. Down, down they all fell, a trio since betrayed, a plight known to be wretched, call it from above and come what may.

In the heart of the jungle, there was a lesson that was found, Discovered in the treacherous echoes of deceit’s darkest sound. A tale of trust shattered, a contrived friendship laid bare, In a land lacking discernment, the law is reader beware…