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Post by comradechris on Jul 30, 2013 0:22:12 GMT 8
As promised to Nicholas and Stephen, on the morning of 28th July 2013, approx 12am, here are the writings of the story that I had in my head since before Y2K, upon which it is heavily based. As you can see, the writing style and language are abit more... primitive. I hope that you enjoy it nevertheless. These are all that I wrote before I started my National Service. The rest of the book is still buzzing around inside my head. Maybe one day I should find the time to put them all down haha. As with all intellectual property, I seek your kind assistance in referencing it should you wish to share it.
Enjoy folks!
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Post by comradechris on Jul 30, 2013 0:22:38 GMT 8
It all started as an email signature...
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"I am not your saviour... I bring only eternal night," he said as he turned his back towards her and started to walk away.
She stood there, silent. Her worst fear had come true---he was lost to her forever. Tears started to well up in her eyes because she knew that to save her life, he had frozen his heart for all eternity.
She ran up to him, embraced him and wrapped her demon-wings around them both, enveloping them both in a veil of darkness. Then, burying her face deep into his neck, she sobbed, "But the night you bring is filled with stars and other wonders... and is oh so beautiful..."
As her warm tears touched the flesh of his neck, his eyes widened and his hand reached for his chest.
Throughout the realm of the undead, a cracking sound was heard, followed by the sound of something shattering into a million pieces. The undead look up and say as one, "Our Master is human once more."
-- The Annals of the Undead
Passage 91, Verse 4, Lines 17-37
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Post by comradechris on Jul 30, 2013 0:23:34 GMT 8
Which spawned.... ONE COMPLETE CHAPTER... YAY~~~
lol!!
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Emptiness...
It bothered him. He could not stand that feeling inside him for it was eating him from within for as long as he could remember. He was not sure what caused it. Countless meditations did not help but he did not give up hope. And so, he tried again.
As he sat down and closed his eyes, his concentration was interrupted by a familiar presence. A presence which he had not felt since long ago.
He opened his eyes, only to see a woman whose beauty surpassed even the Mistress of the Night. Her skin was white as snow, her eyes were as dark as the night sky and sparkled with the radiance of the stars themselves, while her black silken hair cascaded down her cloak, which was of the same colour. Her cloak itself was a paradox, for while it covered the rest of her body, it emphasised her womanly curves in the process. Her whole appearance was a picture of black and white. The only thing about her that had any colour was her blood-red lips. Lips which drew his attention more strongly than any other part of her.
"Damn it, you know I detest these charades! If my time has come, give me the Kiss and get it over with," he said as he stood up to receive his visitor.
His visitor laughed as she spoke," Do not worry, Master of the Undead. Your time has not come..."
As she laughed, her appearance changed. The curves under the cloak vanished, and her mask of beauty dissolved, leaving behind the face of the Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse.
"You should learn to take things more lightly my friend," Death said jokingly.
"I try not to joke about such things," stated the Master. He motioned for his friend to sit as he poured out two glasses of milk. As he handed a glass over to his friend, he asked, " By the way, how is Charon, still rowing his ferry across the Styx? If he's tired I can always ask one of my Skeleton Warriors to take his place, no one would know the difference."
"I don't think so, you know how much he loves those coins. Oh, what's this? Milk? You drinking life-giving substances? I'm shocked!" Death chuckled as he raised his chalice.
"Well, you were the one who told me to cut down!" Retorted the Master who clinked his chalice against his friend's. In one gulp he emptied the contents of his chalice down his throat. Then he placed it down on the table, sat down and looked at his friend squarely in the face as he continued, "I know that you are always too busy for a social visit such as this one. Besides, by visiting me like this you are already violating many of the Sacred Rules. You and I have been friends long enough for me to know that every time you come for a chat you bring grave news and the only time when you do not will be the day I die..."
Death sighed. His friend was right. Already by meeting someone whose time was not up was illegal, much less talking and becoming friends with one. But this did not disturb him so much. What really saddened him was the fact that he could only visit when he had bad news. The two friends could never have a proper conversation, knowing that bad news was around the corner. And the news he had today was the most grave of all.
"Never could fool you," Death said, as his face became a mask of seriousness, "today I shall bring the most grave news of all... I hope you can forgive me for what I am about to tell."
"Such things are not your fault."
"As you must have felt," Death began, "the Tranquil has been disrupted and in your world manifests itself in increased violence, racial hatred, disrespect for the dignity of the individual, the list goes on. These events and the frequency and intensity with which they occur portend great disaster and suffering."
"The Final Conflict." The Master said with dread.
Death nodded before continuing, “And thus shall begin the events ordained in the Prophecy...”
He had more to say, but was cut short by his friend, who began to recite,
And from the ashes the Three shall rise
To lead the Legion of Light
Against the Droves of Darkness
Like the morn which drives away the night
The Three whose paths have crossed before
The Three who have walked
In Darkness and in Light
One of Magic
One of Science
Both to be united by the One who is of both
The One who wields the Blade of Virtue’s Bane
The One who will lead the Undead
Out of the Darkness of Damnation
Into the Light of Redemption
“Isn’t it ironic? That he who wields the Blade of Virtue’s Bane would be the one to lead the forces of Good?” The Master asked sardonically at the end of his recital.
Death sighed as he replied, “The form does not necessarily portray the substance... Anyway, back to the Prophecy. The news I bring today has something to do with how the Final Conflict starts. As you know, the Final Conflict will begin with the event known as the First Strike, whereby all the hotspots in the world will simultaneously erupt in war in a moment of madness brought about by Evil’s doing. Iraq and terrorists will attack the United States. Iraq will go to war with Iran again. The European Union will dissolve into bickering Nation-States. North versus South Korea and Japan. China against Taiwan. Civil war will ensue in Russia as Soviet loyalists fight to rebuild the USSR. Basically, the whole world is going to war!” Death stopped to look at his friend, to see if he was ready for the news he was going to break.
He was.
“Your family, friends... everyone you know and love will perish in the First Strike. Your country, well defended as it may be, is small. Because of this, your country will survive if someone wants to conquer it, but not if someone means to destroy it...” Death stopped as he noticed the anguish in his friend’s eyes.
“Everyone?” asked the Master. His voice was shaky. His life had already been thrown into turmoil when his present duty was thrust into his hands against his will. Now he was to lose all his loved ones as well.
“Yes. All whom you knew before you became what you are now. Family, both immediate and extended. Your adopted siblings. Even your heart’s desire.”
“The Mistress...”
“No, not the Mistress of the Night. The one whom you loved before you became Master of the Undead.”
No, not her too. The Master’s heart was heavy. For even though his beloved was now the Mistress of the Night, a small part of him still yearned for his former love. He looked at Death and asked, “Why? Why must the innocent always suffer?”
“All things have a purpose in the grand scheme of things... it is easier to raise corpses when their spirits are not at rest...”
“Damn you!” Shouted the Master, “how can you expect me to raise the ones I love, knowing that by raising them I deny them their eternal rest?”
Death turned away from his friend, for he could no longer look into his friend’s eyes. Eyes averted, he said, “I am sorry that I have to tell you this. The death of your world is inevitable. But whether you want to take advantage of it by filling your ranks or not is your choice.”
The Master walked to the window, looked out into the eternal night of the Undead Realm. He breathed deeply, thinking of what was about to happen, and asked, “So... it is inevitable... and what am I supposed to do in the mean time? Sit back and relax?”
Death walked over to his friend’s side and said with conviction, “There is nothing you can do about their deaths, but there is something you must do before the First Strike.”
“I see. What is that?”
“You must travel between the Realms and Planes, to find those who would fight for Good. You must let them know that the Undead will be fighting alongside them and that you are their enemies no longer. Next, you must rally them under a single banner. If you do not, they will still fight Evil, but they will not be fighting as one. You must unite them and teach them the unity that the Undead know so well,” Death explained.
The Master turned towards Death, “The Prophecy says there will be three to lead the Light. What of the other Two?”
“You need not worry about them. They will come to you when the time is right,” answered Death reassuringly.
For a few moments, the two friends looked at each other, finding solace in each other. Then Death stretched his hand towards the Master and said, “I must go now my friend. It has been good to see you again.”
The Master grasped the open hand and shook it firmly. As he felt the life drain from him, he said, “Farewell, and Godspeed.”
Slowly, Death’s form began to dissipate into a fine mist, and then was no more. The Master’s life stopped seeping from his hand. His friend was gone. He was alone, alone with that feeling of emptiness.
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Post by comradechris on Jul 30, 2013 0:24:33 GMT 8
And the last piece of work in progress, since 1999, before I got conscripted...
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The night was unusually dark. Darkness had swallowed half the stars and the moon was nowhere to be seen. Many would not dare walk about under such circumstances for without the guiding light of the moon, danger could easily find its victims. But two figures still continued their journey, unafraid of the dark because danger could not touch them. If one looked closely enough, one would have noticed something very strange about them, very strange indeed.
One figure was that of a skeleton in royal garments. A black robe of the smoothest silk that gave him comfort when he was alive now hung loosely against his bones, protected by a suit of chainmail which had aided him in many battles in his previous life and continued to serve him just as well during his present unlife. All concealed by a faded purple cape of the finest velvet which fluttered as he took his sure and silent steps. Last but not least, a simple crown of once lustrous metal rested on his skull, distinguishing him from the rest of his Undead comrades.
The other figure was that of a man cloaked and hooded in black. Under the hood was a layer of impenetrable darkness, which could only be pierced by those whom he allowed to see his face. His cloak did not flutter as he walked, for it was held stationary by dark magic, hiding everything within from prying eyes.
The latter, the Master of the Undead, and the former, his friend and second in command, the Archlich, walked a few metres more before stopping. Then both looked up into the night sky in unison. A passer by would have scoffed at them, for it already too dark to see clearly, much less stargaze. But then, Undead were not bound by the poor faculties of the living, and neither was their Master.
“So, the time is soon?” asked the Master, eyes trained on the heavens.
The Archlich answered in a whispery voice, as did all Undead, “Yes. The constellations will soon align themselves with the cosmic monuments on Earth.”
“And then the majority of mankind shall perish,” the Master sighed before continuing, “Maybe it’s about time something like that happened.”
“Oh? And why would you say something like that?” Asked the Archlich, surprised. “You are human after all... and so was I.”
The Master shook his head in frustration, “Man has become arrogant and destructive, too caught up in the pursuit of worldly pleasures to care about anything else. You were the first Lich raised and have outlasted all other Undead. You are the oldest and thus the wisest. Surely you have seen, over the eons, Man’s progress, the starting of his fall and now, his wallowing in decadence.”
As the Archlich was about to answer, a scream pierced the silence of the night.
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