The Strain, Interview Two

The strain continues.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c4jA-WFBHyE

ALL YOUR SOULS ARE BELONG TO US

HA HA HA HA .... http://youtu.be/jj1942wodt0

The Drift Machine

The Drift Machine

                John's Land. Once, it was Plensgrath. Before that, Far Bounty. Before that... It had many other names.

                Though it took the inhabitants many generations to realise, the pattern became obvious to all with time. The country - sometimes countries - that made up the 'area' would be conquered, often renamed by the conqueror. Legends tell of times when the area was merely incorporated into empires, but the now-wiser neighbouring lands have long since made a tradition of granting rulership to a favoured general, or younger child. Empires that incorporated the 'area' have always fallen, for the same reason the land is perennially conquered.

                Each conquering brings new people to the 'area'. Violent (comparatively, at least) conquerors, new rulers. Sometimes they intermix with the local populace, sometimes they don't. A few times the entire population has been slaughtered. It doesn't change anything. The next few generations - whether or not they are related to the previous inhabitants - will become progressively more peaceful. Not just in action, but also in word and deed.

                This effect, occurring in the midst of a war-torn continent, makes them easy prey to plunder. The 'area' is fertile, and mineral rich; and when the former conquerors finally become mostly unable or unwilling to fight, it is invaded again.

                Dytja, the wandering hero of a thousand wars and countless adventures, knew this much when she wandered through the 'area'. Two generations back it had been invaded; and even she - unfamiliar with the land - could see the effect between the generations. In another generation or two John's Land would be conquered once more.

                But on the far side of the 'area', a old man - a wizened grump, born in the area but scarcely different from his parents - recognised her. He requested an audience - in truth, he demanded, but his men were not enthusiastic about making demands. Dytja was intrigued and agreed.

                The 'soldiers' (who were so unthreatening Dytja had a hard time believing that they weren't priests of some benevolent deity) led her respectfully to the domicile of the local mayor. The soldiers introduced her to the man who had recognised her - he was the Lord General of the Western Army.

                "That's enough, kids, guard the door and let me speak with her alone," the General said.

                "Yes sir!" responded the soldiers, saluting perfectly and marching out.

                "They've got a lot of heart, but barely any steel," said the General, watching them go. "I took the 'worst' cases on as my honour guard, hoping to mould them into real fighters... But I can't beat this place."

                "I've heard a lot about it as I've wandered through this place," replied Dytja. "And a lot of hearsay and theories."

                "Well, here's another theory: it all has to do with an experiment by the original rulers of this world. But first, an introduction that includes my name: I am General Alvin," the General said.

                "I am Dytja, as you noticed," she replied.

                "It's good to me someone such as yourself. Legends from the lands you've been to have been heard even here - is it true that you were born on another world?" he asked.

                "Yes, although not quite 'born'. Why have you requested my presence?"

                "I want to make a request. There's an old facility of the original rulers in the centre of the 'area' as we all seem to call it. The centre of John's Land. It's incredibly hard to reach - surrounded by a moat of an acidic liquid, then huge, jagged cliffs, then another moat. Each region is full of guard creatures - the outer moat has been cleared by prior expeditions, and part of the ring of cliffs, but the inner moat has barely been seen, let alone crossed.

                "I would ask that you journey through it, to the facility in the centre, and explore it. See if you can find some cause within that would alter our people towards... Complete pacifism. Pointless pacifism. I understand that what has been done will likely not be undone, but we may survive yet if the process is stopped," the General said. He looked at Dytja solemnly as he awaited an answer.

                "Sure," replied Dytja. "So, how wide are these moats?"

                A couple of weeks later, Dytja stood at the outer moat. She had dug up all the information she could find about the facility and its surroundings - records of prior expeditions, wanderers, and others; some dating back thousands of years. The outer moat was acidic, but clear of dangerous creatures. The jagged cliffs - barely climbable - were swarming with flying terrors that fed off smaller inhabitants of both moats, and the terrifying grubs that infested the lower regions of the cliffs. And the inner moat - hordes of titanic crocodilian lizards swam and lazed about within it.

                Dytja had seen defences like these before. The former inhabitants of the world, when thousands of forsaken armies, monsters, and other horrors had streamed in through the portals, had fortified several locations they wished to keep meddlesome wanderers out of as they tried to either flee through or close the portals.

                It worked like a charm, in most cases. Knowledge of how the defences worked and flight capability (that would subvert many) was lost along with the former inhabitants. Those that didn't die or leave lost track of their roots and blended into the many other human populations that came to the world, amidst the rubble of their civilisation (not that there was much evidence of their presence outside their mega-cities and isolated labs - they were great conservationists, amongst other things).

                But Dytja knew the tricks of this particular kind of defence. She'd never seen this exact defence, but records she had read once - long ago - had chronicled the efforts of several scientists to seal off labs that contained irreplaceable but potentially dangerous experiments. Often, these were not truly dangerous - experimental versions of the machines that prevented language drift by unifying language, for example - but others would be easy to retool to cause mass destruction.

                This particular defence - rings of seemingly insurmountable danger with flying 'defenders' - always included one major caveat. The laboratory would be connected to the tunnel network that linked together the various machines buried deep under the earth; and more importantly, an access point would be nearby.

                It only took Dytja a couple of hours to find it with a tool in her possession. An advantage of living so long and travelling so far, she possessed many tools. This particular one identified the presence of the world's native magic, even if it was hidden by illusions designed to prevent normal detection. It had been created to help the world's former in habitants find lost objects that attempted to hide themselves; but Dytja had repurposed it to find anything they had wished to keep hidden.

                Under a few feet of dirt (and hidden by an illusion that made it look, and even feel, like more dirt) Dytja found the entrance. A brief wave of another device - this one being an identity card that had all-access privileges - and the entrance opened, revealing stairs heading down into the earth.

                Dytja entered, closing the entrance behind her. After she finished inside the lab, she would return and rebury the entrance. She had long since learnt a lesson about giving advanced technology away freely.

                The walls of the stairwell glowed softly, lighting the way clearly. Dytja descended, heading at least twenty metres underground before the stairwell changed into a tunnel that headed - Dytja assumed - straight to the lab.

                The tunnel was spotlessly clean, the off-grey walls composed of a concrete like material completely untouched by the passage of time. It was the result of magic imbued into the material itself, preventing the growth of moulds and warding off insects as well as dust. Even facilities that had seen frequent use when operating - or were still in use as housing - were almost immaculate despite the passage of thousands of years.

                It stretched on in front of Dytja, seemingly infinite before and behind her. It was a natural illusion - the stairs were too far distant to be visible, and ahead the tunnel would extend into the maintenance tunnel network that connected various machines deep beneath the surface. Most were used to prevent language drift (and were the reason that various native languages had been lost, replaced with the language of the former inhabitants bar a few pieces of slang), and the rest were generally responsible for controlling weather patterns. Despite the age of the machines, only a few rare exceptions were functioning at less than 100%.

                Nearly an hour later, Dytja saw a ladder up ahead. It would lead to the lab's lowest maintenance level, which would probably lie just above the 'sealed' section - the place any rogue machine would have been stored while the security measures were put into place. With a bit of luck, Dytja's card would get her into there - otherwise she'd have to attempt to reverse the security protocols engaged when the laboratory was abandoned.

                About thirty feet of ladder stretched up above her. As with the access tunnel, the way up was lit by the walls themselves. The ladder was painted grey, and thankfully - unlike the rest of the tunnel - it did not glow.

                Dytja climbed the ladder. At the top was a small, semi-circular room, with a door on the straight side marked as leading into the lab. She swiped her card, causing the doors to open with a soft swishing noise. Benefits of civilisation, Dytja thought to herself, bemused. It was rare to run into such conveniences, except in the empty buildings left over from long ago.

                The corridor beyond was brighter than the tunnel, and lit by small lights placed into the ceiling. They, too, would almost forever glow brightly; lighting the laboratory for almost a million years before dimming. The former inhabitants of the world had truly mastered their technology and magic - tragically the reason for their downfall being caused by the magic of other worlds, not theirs. They had thought all magic mastered, stable; but the bleed-through effect from another world had caused their calculations to be worth naught.

                Dytja's plan - as usual for her - was to investigate the building, browsing through old records to determine what had been done here (and perhaps learn more of the lost civilisation) before 'fixing' the problem. Likely by destroying the machine - even if it could be turned off, a machine with the effect observed was... Not something she believed should be left for others to find.

                The first thing she checked, however, was the security room. Though sadly lacking camera technology (something she had encountered several times, though mostly before she had become stuck on this world) the advanced sensors would inform her if anything - even small insects - was present, given the right settings.

                It didn't take her long to find a map that gave her clear directions to the security room. Maps, signs and other indicators were very common in all facilities she had been to, with only a handful of exceptions (all had turned out to be private domiciles). A short walk later, she was there - and inside one swishing door later.

                The main security console consisted of a large flat surface on which text or simple diagrams would display (glowing on the apparently stone surface). Above it, covering the entirety of the three metre tall, ten metre wide wall were a large array of lights. They were arranged into several sections; each represented a floor. Within each, the lights were vaguely laid out in the pattern of the floor itself. By adjusting the settings, one could detect to any degree of fineness desired; or set alerts and other useful things.

                Deftly utilising the touch screen, Dytja checked the lab for the presence of anything, the status of the doors, and pulled some data up from the tunnels beneath to ensure that they too were empty. Satisfied that nothing (and more importantly, no-one) was present barring herself, she briefly checked the defences.

                An accurate assessment from the locals, she thought. The report clearly showed that the outer moat had been emptied and the cliff-side partially cleared; but that the inner (and most dangerous) moat was in perfect working order. Despite being cobbled together from rogue but controllable creatures brought in from other worlds as theirs was destroyed, the biological defences left behind were incredibly well constructed. Though they had not always lasted thousands of years undamaged, they were often still standing - a feat, considering that the technology had been young when the world was ruined.

                She called up a map, checked it, and left the room. She'd look into the history of the site, and then head down the elevator to the sealed levels. The lowest of them was the only place in the lab that reported any active devices, despite the presence of many.

                It was hard for Dytja to resist kissing her access card after it granted her full access to the central administration computer. From it, she could access all data stored within the base; and with the 'user level' the card assigned to her she was allowed to by the system.

                "Let's see what we have," she said with a smile.

                Reading inhumanly fast (and thoroughly), Dytja delved into the purpose, history and 'present' of the lab. Like several other similar facilities, it had been constructed to investigate the possibilities of 'wide-area effecting machines'. These varied in function, but often controlled (to a varying degree) the weather, natural life, or people. Due to the nature of their society, only rarely did they experiment with things often considered immoral (such as altering the behaviour of humans, or in other ways). These rare experiments were usually done out of curiosity and hope that similar effects could be used to wipe out disease, violent behaviour (though both were exceptionally rare, the result of other technologies and the general demeanour of their society).

                But in places like this, they existed. The records listed many such experiments - most done on a small scale. Mind control, general physical boosting, alteration of offspring (far easier to achieve than altering the parents). Most of the machines had been designed to work on animal life, and not only had they been destroyed after their experiments were completed but someone had actually deleted the data on their construction/maintenance from the system completely. It was as Dytja had expected - after they realised they were doomed, they had taken many steps to ensure many technologies were lost forever, given the uses they could be put to.

                It was information about the altering of offspring that led Dytja to find the machine she sought. It was an old experiment, a wide-scale application machine that was intended to prevent the genetic drift of the populace to something more warlike. Many had feared it was possible that such would happen over time - though their history was lacking in war, what they saw in nature and had seen in other worlds had made them scared. In the end, they had decided against utilising it - the idea of forcing a population to be uniform, instead of allowing it to grow and become whatever it would be it good or bad flew in the face of their approach to life.

                But the machine had not been destroyed then. It worked, and it had been kept in case later, similar experiments - perhaps, several reports noted, later experiments to improve the health of the population - could use it as a base. And though the details of its construction had been purged, the machine itself had been left intact.

                What was more difficult to figure out was why. Dytja found the orders that had been issued, requesting the destruction of several potentially dangerous machines (and the mass deletion records). Confirmed destruction reports of all of them... Including what was obviously the one she sought. Conflicting records indicated that the machine had instead been stored; seemingly the administrator of the facility had desired to do something with the machine...

                "Oh," said Dytja, as she pulled up some of the administrator's private files. In a personal journal, the administrator wrote that they intended to activate the machine and use it to keep her race alive - by changing the descendants of the invaders.

                'They will not be truly of our race, but they will become worthy successors, unlike their parents, grandparents. Peace will not be lost from the world forever.'

                "Not the best approach," muttered Dytja. The mystery was solved.

                The rest of the information was interesting, but rather particular to individual experiments. Nevertheless, Dytja was kept enthralled for hours, working through screen after screen of records. A few times she used her full access to delete records - forgotten diagrams and information that could be pieced together to realise horrifying possibilities. Most usefully, perhaps, she committed to memory a map of the local (roughly one thousand kilometre across) tunnel networks, along with all access points. She also took note of a few storerooms within the lab that were supposed to still contain various useful tools (such as everlasting lights) that she would pinch on the way out.

                But before raiding the store rooms, she would descend down to the restricted section and destroy the machine. It only took a handful of minutes - a few corridors, a trip down in a lift (built much like the rest of the building - solid without joins, a peaceful grey, lit by small but bright lights), and through a few doors to the 'restricted storage' room.

                The entry panel beeped affirmatively as Dytja waved her card in front of it. The door swished softly into the wall, exposing the room behind. It was - in contrast to most of the facility - a complete mess. Countless machines inside had been smashed, leaving pieces of white siding and internals (a mix of tubes and magical stones or symbol lattices - the norm for this world) strewn across the floor. There had been no time to clean up the mess as the world was ravaged.

                The remains of the machines varied in size, but mostly stood as damaged, broken shells around the room. Occasionally there was an untouched machine, or one with minimal damage (likely struck by accident), standing as a simple white box with a grey screen embedded on one side. And a few of those destroyed were not as thoroughly broken as Dytja would have preferred.

                The active machine - the drift machine that Dytja sought - was very obvious. The official designations scrawled onto each machine were small and hard to see, but as it was active the drift machine glowed softly - and several indicator lights reported details of its status. Dytja sauntered over to it and took a look.

                Impressive, she thought, a slight smile on her lips. Only on a handful of occasions had she seen such machines, and they had been far smaller (perhaps the size of a small box). It was somehow related to their complexity - the weather machines, though incredibly powerful in effect, were quite tiny; even those unifying language were larger.

                The drift machine was a three metre cube - not perfect, but quite close. Although the makers of the devices had a preference for rather extreme neatness, this was not reflected by the form the magical symbols had to take. But they tried, and they sealed each machine within a simple white box to hide the messy and widely varying internals.

                Using the interface screen, Dytja called up details of the devices operation and success. Two fairly large warnings showed themselves almost immediately - the first indicating that the machine had noted huge physiological drift and that it had probably failed or was faulty; the second a message simply stating "DO NOT TURN OFF".

                After Dytja finished checking the details of the machine's operation (luckily nothing unusual she needed to see to) she called up the warning again. She then drew her sword, and with a slight giggle, cut the machine in two. One half slid down the angled cut and toppled onto the floor as both parts popped and fizzled lightly. The machine went dark, too damaged to continue functioning. Technically, she hadn't turned it off.

                A couple of hours (and a lot of additional destruction) later Dytja had made it all the way back to the maintenance entrance. She shovelled the earth back over it, sealing it against accidental intrusions.

                A couple of days (and a lot of riding about) later Dytja stood before General Alvin once more. She told him that she had destroyed the machine, and that the next generation would be free of its effects. The General thanked her profusely, but she advised him to hold off celebrating her success. At least until the children could be tested, to ensure they were no less violent than their parents.

                A couple of weeks (and a lot of walking) later Dytja was on a ship, sailing off to a faraway land once more. Somewhere she had never been before.

All Your Souls Collage

Behind the break.

All Your Souls (Colour)

Coloured versions! Also, I should probably have said collage instead of montage? In truth I don't know the proper definition of either word.

Images behind a break 'cause large.

The Glorificant

The Glorificant

                As the portals – the result of a great folly – tore through the world, at times exchanging entire continents, many saw opportunity. A world without war, without even an army, ripe for conquering? A thousand would-be emperors saw the chance, and went for it.

                Countless millions poured in. Not just kings, dictators, caesars with armies behind them – also beings powerful beyond imagining that sought to carve out a corner for themselves (or, more often, seeking the entire world). With so many entering the world the former inhabitants were quickly overwhelmed – and so the armies turned on each other; fighting wars and battles that lasted hundreds of years. Some employed destructive technology beyond all imagining, scarring much of the world forever.

                As the portals slowly closed – and the rules that allowed many technologies to co-exist were warped or faded – many armies (even those victorious) chose to retreat back to their own worlds. One such army – dark and terrible, like many, but my no means the worst – utilised a unique kind of weaponry; mostly made possible by the unique conditions of their world.

                For them, souls (a living force that animated all creatures, and especially so amongst the self-aware) could be refined. In short, they could be trapped and ‘purified’, stripped of all memories and condensed into ‘soul batteries’ that were of great use in powering all manner of magical weapons. Soul batteries, in their own world, were stable, safe, and though the creation of them was often terrifyingly evil they were well accepted.

                In the world they invaded, however, there were two main problems. Firstly, it was impossible to refine souls there – souls were incapable of being separated from their memories at all, and condensing them in an attempt to use them as power consumed vastly more energy than it provided. Secondly, condensed souls – with or without memories – were highly unstable. Somehow the souls would feel horrible, horrible pain.

                This confused the master-technicians of their army to no end – in their own world, the containment would cause no issues; and in this world, it was impossible to harm a soul! In the end, they assumed it was a combination of the two worlds – the potential for harm from their world, and some sort of ‘expansion’ caused by the world they had entered. Regardless, due to these problems, they made their decision – retreat back to their home world.

                Out of a sense of duty they bore, they cleaned up carefully and thoroughly – but not thoroughly enough. In a few out of the way places, misplaced in caves or battlegrounds, some soul batteries were left behind. In one case a tera- class battery (a three metre cube battery, used to power the largest ordinarily deployed battle weapons of the army) was lost – during one particularly hectic battle, it had rolled into a raging river and lost deep in a system of unexplored caves.

                There it lay for thousands of years, tortured but mindless. Yet slowly, such a powerful mass – effectively one soul – would inevitably gain some kind of mind. And it did. Whether due to an incomplete purification, or merely some strange property of the world in which it lay, it remembered tiny pieces of information. It put together hundreds, thousands, of tiny scraps, one by one, until it knew – at least enough – of what it was, where it likely was, and most importantly, how it was.

                In the end it became a coherent entity, trapped in a faltering prison. Over thousands more years and through great pain it slowly broke the prison apart. Deep in the earth, hidden away in an inaccessible cave, none were there when the battery suddenly cracked from top to bottom. When the Glorificant, as it had decided it would be, flowed out and lit the cave up with its radiance.

                The power of more than a million souls, concentrated into one being. Like the people of the world it came from, it only truly desired one thing – more power. Something it had spent thousands of years dwelling upon; and it had a plan to gain more. So very, very, very much more.

                Unlike most other souls, its intense power allowed it to directly manifest – and more so, to manipulate and control its environment directly. This ability – combined with the assumption of a beautiful, feminine form – allowed it to enthral the small villages that were near to where it rose. Unfortunately (or perhaps, luckily), despite its great power relative to ordinary wandering souls the Glorificant was not truly powerful – it knew it would be unable to win a fight against many opponents it would, sooner or later, encounter.

                So instead of leaving the small villages behind to find greater signs of civilisation, it stayed. Deep in the Jungle of Ten Terrors, within a ring of sky-piercing mountains, lays the valley it occupies. The villages have long since all fallen to her influence; worshipping it as a goddess. And they have grown into a network of towns, supported by fertile farmland that it guided them in preparing. Even the tribe of Winged Ones (once long lost explorers) that inhabits the peaks have come to worship it with intense fervour.

                A stranger to the land would call ‘her’ a benevolent goddess, or a great leader. But although the rising ‘Land of Truth’ is an important part of its plan to slowly control the world, there is another, darker part. Those who follow the Glorificant dedicate their souls to it. Upon their deaths, they are drawn to it and pulled within, becoming a part of it. Once lost among so much of the Glorificant, these souls slowly lose themselves and are absorbed, their memories lost.

                Whether it succeeds or fails in creating an empire, it can only ever grow stronger.

Sable

Sable

                The forest. Sable had seen wandered through it a hundred times before. So much safer than the forests of her homeland, Merisomet. Dafer’s forest region had been cleared out long ago, the trapped beings within released and destroyed.

                The effort – a collaboration between several powerful mages and other entities – had gone awry partway into Merisomet. A terrible beast had been unleashed, and though it was slain, all but two of those involved had died. The tragedy put a permanent hold on further attempts.

                To Sable, the event was just a legend. It was, however, true that Dafer’s forest was safe. The part that was Merisomet’s territory was also relatively clear, though not completely. The true danger wandered into Merisomet from further east; from the Forest of the Caged. When the portals tore the world apart, one strange reality (a nexus of many) decided to offload its prisoners into the forest. They ranged from ordinary criminals – completely powerless, and trapped forever unless released – through to reality ripping terrors who broke free almost immediately. But luckily, in this world, they could be slain.

                Much time has passed since the portals, but still the prisons break. Every few hundred years a true nightmare wanders out, and the efforts of Merisomet, Dafer, and even Faron or in older times the great Undead Empire are all required to end it. The most recent – sixty years ago – ravaged Merisomet so terribly that it sowed the seeds of a bloody revolution.

                The revolution was why Sable had come to Dafer. As a young knight, she had returned home with honour only to discover that her family had been chosen as an ‘example’ to the lesser nobility. Her timing alone saved her – she arrived just after their execution.

                At first, she sought shelter in Dafer but – as tensions between the two countries grew – she was granted membership in a knightly order. She wanted blood, and vengeance. They promised it to her – eventually. Rebellion boiled away in Merisomet – a counter-revolution, to restore the old order, or something much like it. Before her fortieth year, they would strike.

                Sable was only nineteen when she fled. As she wandered the forest, it was her twenty-ninth birthday. Ten years, and her desire for vengeance burnt as brightly as ever. Everything she heard indicated the two countries were on the path to war… But it was long, slow road. A border skirmish between their navies. A massive riot in south-west Merisomet. Families coming out of hiding, revealing that they lived on. Hiding! Sable had never hid. But she knew she only hadn’t needed to because she was so unimportant. Her family had only been an example.

                Her anger temporarily getting the better of her, she slammed her heavily armoured fist into a tree. Bark cracked pleasantly, and small chips flew haphazardly. Patience was something she struggled with. Had her home not been burnt after the riots – apparently by the same bastard that lorded over her family’s execution – she would have made her way back, joined the rebellion. Without it, she had no idea where to head to hide in waiting, or to join the counter-revolution. Her only choice was the slow path to war that Dafer trod.

                The sudden screech of a bird made her turn from the tree just enough to see a man approaching behind her. Faster than any would expect – given how heavily armoured she was – Sable was facing the man, axe in her hands. Sable’s two-handed axe bore a single fifty centimetre long head, with a metre-thirty long hilt; in total height it was roughly one and a half metres. A heavy axe, it was designed to tear right through most armour (and especially the hides of some of the imprisoned terrors that wandered the forest). Someone unarmoured, such as the man who stood only a few metres distant, would be easily dismembered by it.

                “Whoa now,” said the man, taking a step back. “I come in peace!” The man wore a simple grey robe with a few brown markings, and held a staff slightly taller than he (about a metre sixty) in one hand.

                “I recognise your robe. You’re someone who was imprisoned here in the forest. The markings… Indicate you come from this region, which is unusual because this entire region was cleared millennia ago. They also indicate that you are weak,” said Sable, sizing up the prisoner. The markings he bore indicated that he was weak (and thus probably effectively harmless), so Sable figured she should capture him for interrogation. It was the policy of the Merisomet knights, at least.

                “Huh, I guess I’m lucky that my prison ended up in some cave instead of up here. I’m surprised someone’s opening the prisons – that sort of power shouldn’t really be common in this world. Then again, this area is low security – did you know that? These markings don’t mean weak, they mean low security,” the man said, studying Sable.

                Clad in heavy plate mail, she was an imposing figure despite being only ten or so centimetres taller than the man. It was definitely overkill for what was meant to be a peaceful walk in the forest, but it was the one thing she still had from Merisomet – the axe had replaced the one she lost as she fled. “We don’t kill everyone who awakes in the forest anymore. In Merisomet. This place, Dafer, hasn’t seen any escapees for centuries. Come quietly and I’ll handle the ‘interrogation’ myself,” replied Sable.

                “Oh mighty warrior, let me show you something,” the man said, bowing slightly.

                He held his staff forwards in front of him, gripping it with both hands. Strange symbols – writing in some forgotten script – darkened the surface of the staff as he held it. Moments later he suddenly swung the staff into a tree. Where it was hit, the tree’s trunk immediately snapped. It fell forwards and landed with a cacophonous crash, the man barely leaping back in time to dodge the longest branches.

                The man smiled at Sable. “Do you care to take such a blow?” he asked, grinning wickedly.

                “I fought worse in Merisomet. Drop the stick,” said Sable.

                “You’re certainly a tough one. Alright, how’s this: tell me why you punched that tree and I’ll maybe come quietly,” he replied.

                Sable considered, and decided to tell him. Better to avoid the fight if possible. “Anger. I come from Merisomet, where my family were killed and my hometown burnt. I serve Dafer and wait for war to come, but war comes slowly,” explained Sable.

                “Hmm, perhaps we can make a deal?” asked the man. After Sable didn’t respond, he continued, “I could use a country, you see, so you and me working together we could take Merisomet over and get your revenge!”

                “Just drop the fucking stick,” said Sable, shaking her head. “If you’re willing to give the war effort that kind of power there are plenty of people who’ll give you whatever you want anyway, including a dukedom if you want to lord it over the peasants.”

                The man frowned slightly. He tossed the stick aside, and said, “Alright. Sounds good enough to me. I swear, though, this isn’t the way this is meant to go. Where are your friends? They’re two women knights, like you. Not as scary. One’s blonde, ridiculously power hungry. The other has light brown-red hair maybe? Cute girl, and… Some stuff happens. I don’t remember their names, though.”

                “You can explain whatever you’re talking about when we get to Piefern. It’s a half hour walk that way,” said Sable, indicating which way the man should head with her axe.

As the man started to move in the direction she’d indicated, she added, “So you think you know my name? Ha. Take a guess.”

“It’s Sable,” replied the man.

After a short pause, Sable said, “Move.”

All Your Souls

The uncoloured versions of everyone in the faction, for... Seeing, more or less. Next will be coloured (this will probably take me a while) and a montage (everyone rides on Great!), then a slightly animated bit of madness (suggestions for a catchy tune are welcomed).

There is a little bit of tackiness where other drawings/edges of the page were covered up (if you're keen of eye).

The Strain

The strain begins.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xEoyfkW5TyA

AYS Strips x8

Twice as many as in previous sets. I'll probably not do more for a while, though. I can't draw, I'm not funny, be warned.

Break 'cause file sizes are not tiny.

More AYS Strips, Again

Still enjoying myself ^^. These were actually done a couple of days ago, but I was busy yesterday. Same caveats: I can barely do something that can be called drawing and I'm even worse at being funny.

Break 'cause images aren't tiny files (tbh I should save them as jpgs or something <_<)

More All Your Souls Strips

And again, 'cause I'm enjoying myself. Same caveats: I can barely do something that can be called drawing and I'm even worse at being funny.

Break because ~2mb all up again.

Demon Mash

This lines up poorly but the number of syllables per line changes a lot anyway, sooo >_>

Another song lyrics rewrite, this time Monster Mash: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SOFCQ2bfmHw



I was lurking in the base late one night
When the ward broke and gave me a fright
Some demons came in but to their surprise
They were attacked by laser eyes

We made some mash
We made some demon mash
Some demon mash
It was in Nexus Clash
We made some mash
Demons died in a flash
We made some mash
We made some demon mash

From our stronghold home on terminal island
We made our way off to where their stronghold did stand
The zig took off from their humble launch bays
To blast our foe like the end of days

Time to ward bash
Holy damage ward bash
Break the ward bash
It was a stronghold smash
Time to ward bash
We'll get in in a flash
Time to ward bash
Holy damage ward bash

The mortals were having fun
The kickass had just begun
The basher was Laurelin
and Floss helped just for fun

Inside the stronghold, the demons slept quite sound
So many, but they were all quickly downed
The stronghold was cleared in but a moment's time
The standard was gripped, victory sublime

We'd made some mash
We'd made some demon mash
Some demon mash
Standard gone with a flash
We'd made some mash
We decided to crash
We'd made some mash
We'd made some demon mash

Two days later on, they got us back
Killed us all in a single attack
The base emptied out, there's nothing there
Bar some demons resting away from their lair

That's Nexus Clash
It's where the factions clash
Nexus Clash
It's quite an oldschool smash
That's Nexus Clash
It's an awesome rehash
That's Nexus Clash
It's where the factions clash

That's the Nexus way, All Your Souls just one group
You could raid with us and get in on the scoop
Join us, move zig, we'll stronghold bash through
Every ward in the Clash, make some nice demon stew

We'll make some mash
We'll make some demon mash
Some demon mash
And do a stronghold crash
We'll make some mash
You'll level in a flash
We'll make some mash
We'll make some demon mash

wooooo
For great justice woooo
For great justice woooo
For great justice woooo
(for a while)