Wednesday, June 21, 2023

I have abandoned my life's work and dreams as a child for more mature ones such as A-Rated Films and "Deep Stare & Deep Spell Cover" Songs

I was around too many Buffalo ghosts or the occasional 'skin-walker' with a bamboo stick trade that made it to before 0AD? Sorry... we will be nicer.. stop ordering people to kill themselves elsewhere for another illegal 'push' for something against other human hosts or living puppets please or it might be calling something extremely bad somewhere else!


Thanks!


Its extremely important to "earn this freedom of expression" and learn from the regrets pouring in from last century before any more people are hurt... please show some more support for what I am doing so that everything good comes sooner rather than later before crime or war spreads any further.. I know that it is coming soon much more than ever before!


Some people out there are not willing to blame themselves for everything until they find the nonhuman influence at work trying to turn us against one another...

Wednesday, June 13, 2018

Prologue

“There is no such thing as a false thought, but there is such thing as an incomplete thought.”
- Al Way, Head of Divination





A person lay in confusion, dreaming of the idea that everything was created in a few days, and wondered if another universe was being created right then and there from this very dream. Perhaps nothing else existed as for now nothing else was present.
The mind drifted in and out of consciousness as awareness returned one sense at a time.
Millions of whispering voices were heard at once while the comatose body rocked back and forth gently beneath a cold breeze. Sparkling colors whirled as needles pricked the skin all over until the voices died down to the sound of waves lapping against a surrounding metallic and plastic body. The mind’s eye pictured the body in a floating open coffin and a current seemed to take it in no particular direction.
Suddenly, extreme heat was felt that rushed the body all over as the piercing needles died down to a few pricks every second or so. The wind felt like a wall pushing down from above until the heat was replaced by a numbing sensation. Pockets of cold chill came as feeling returned to a body that laid flat across a few boards in what resembled a small two person boat. Sore muscles ached between each support seat but were numb where contact was met.
With every breath the dry oceanic air stung past the back of the throat into the upper chest and made the insides feel like raw meat. Occasionally the smell of salty seaweed came with mist that moistened the lips but brought little comfort. The tongue tasted nothing but dryness and was pasted at the roof of a shut mouth.
The eyes slowly opened to a starry partly-cloudy sky above. The full moon was a perfectly round white disc hovering above and illuminated the surrounding clouds with a ring of heavenly light. Midnight blue was seen between each star and cloud. After a few blinks a shooting star went across the sky and what might have been a few birds soon after. All in all it was a bright and beautiful night sky.
Creaking to one side painfully the neck turned to face the right side and then slowly to the left to confirm being in a small boat surrounded by water and saw eerie fog that rolled over the sides. Spots of swirling color died down as the eyes became familiar with being opened once again.
Slowly but determined, the body sat up. It felt like being slammed into a brick wall a few times as blood pounded in the head and adjusted to the change. The row boat was small with missing oars which must have been at the mercy of the oceans current and now unobtainable. Sometimes a reckless wave hit the side hard enough that water came over and added to a puddle on the floor.
Upon further examination came the realization that he was trapped in the body of a human male. Loose jeans rolled up above dark sneakers, one of them untied. A soft long sleeve shirt covered the rest of him beneath a black hoodie. He kept his feet on the board in front of him to avoid getting wet. The wind was ten times stronger while sitting up and sometimes blew with such a force that he had to use his arms to hold himself upright to avoid being blown over. Between each violent gust of wind he stroked his jeans so that feeling would return to his hands enough to string up that untied shoe. The fingers were barely usable but warmed up a little as he tightened and twisted the lace. He could tell while sitting up that his bulky pocket must contain a wallet or something of equal size.
He did not remember anything at all but at least he could tie the shoe. Not even his own name came to mind but glimpses did come from faces of what may have been people that he knew at some point. No memory had real clarity and no face had real distinguishing characteristics.
His brain hurt while trying to recall his past so he planted each foot outside of the puddle on the floor and searched the rest of the boat until he found an opened chest toward the back. Moving to face the back of the boat, his legs fit snug between the box and surrounding wood. Nothing but a book and a flashlight was found inside. Luckily the flashlight still worked so he searched the rest of the boat to make sure that he did not miss anything. A few cuss words came to mind when finding his cigarettes soaked at the bottom of the puddle. Desperate for just a drag he opened it in search of dry tobacco but had no such luck.
His hands were freezing so he put them in his hoodie and turned off his flashlight for a bit. In the distance nothing but water could be seen in every direction. Like a terrible nightmare he occasionally could see a face or two in the mist. He tried to shake the hallucinations out of his head and for a long moment he sat in the silence peering down at the dancing puddle trying to remember how he came to be in this situation.
He could not help but wonder if he had died and the surroundings opening up before him were merely a part of his mind creating a dream world. He felt very dehydrated and did not want to rely on his senses but had no choice. It was difficult to look into the fog so he tried to keep his gaze from wandering past the boat. The hallucinations were too distracting.
He had to go over everything one at a time and figure this out and decided to start with where instead of who.
Perhaps every coming possibility would expand like a bubble until becoming a reality large enough for a puny creature such as himself to exist in and then continue to expand until others could live in it as well?
A personal hell perhaps?
More likely just on the edge of death from dehydration. Luckily thus far nothing too painful was felt and sleep was calling out to him so he must not be dreaming or dead.
Maybe God needed more time to create his universe and he was waking too fast? Every new moment came to him as if he had thought about it first and felt a sense of deja vu that would not end.
It did nothing but make his situation worse from pondering such nonsense but at least it gave him something to do and it was better than seeing scary creatures in the fog.
It was not until a half-hour or so later when he started to think about what he could do to return to shore. Swimming in the cold water would surely be suicide. Without oars there was not much that he could do but he wanted to live whatever life he had and felt his survival instinct kick in. With renewed energy, he quickly scanned the area all around until sure that the oars were nowhere in sight although there were things in the distance in every direction that appeared to be an oar or some kind of  floating object but they were too far away to know for sure.
‘Perhaps I could use the book to row?’ Figuring that this was his best bet, he reached down and grabbed it after turning the flashlight back on for a better look. The front-cover of it was of a boat surrounded by water and fog containing hidden daemonic faces much like the ones that he had been seeing around him now.
The title was called Of a Place Called Cudoq.
Curious, he opened it and flipped through some pages and stopped at a blank page with a single sentence that stated ‘You may not read ahead’.
Laughing out loud at the thought of his situation and possible insanity, he turned a few more chunks over and found another similar page which said, ‘You are not allowed to read ahead in this story about you’ . ...
Chills swept over him as he slammed the book shut!
Closing his eyes for a moment, he muttered to himself that it was just a trick because he was dying and losing his mind. He reexamined the cover for assurance and found nothing but a terribly weird coincidence, at the least!
He set the book down and lay back to gather his thoughts again.
Everything seemed to be dreamlike and he wondered how his existence could be. He even reached down and pinched himself to make sure that he was real. Noticing that the flashlight seemed dimmer than when he turned it on, he turned it off.
While searching the stars for familiar constellations, he found the Big Dipper along with the North Star. At least now he knew which direction he needed to go . .. well that was if he could remember where in the world he was?
He hummed the American national anthem as he tried to recall which state he must have sailed from. He was not sure but he had a hunch that he had last lived in Florida. Many places, restaurants, schools, faces, and nightclubs came to mind as he tried to remember. Obviously more was coming back to him but not quite enough to be sure. He must have lived in several different states across the US during his lifetime, at least.
While pondering the possibilities in a throbbing head, he stood up, relaxed his muscles with a sigh, and relieved himself over the side.
To be going the wrong direction could be a fatal mistake.
Decision final, he decided to go North and take his chances on a hunch.
Thirstily licking his lips, he bent over the side to wash out his dry mouth. The water was salty but at least it seemed to offer some kind of relief. He knew that drinking saltwater would be like giving up, but perhaps he could rehydrate by swishing the water around in his mouth and then spitting it all out?
Without paying attention to the flashlight while he gargled, it was knocked off into the water over the side. Time seemed to slow down for a moment as his reflexes made a quick grab for it but he knew that he would have to fall in to do so. The choice was made in an instant and there was no going back.
Splash!
The freezing chill swallowed his body and stabbed from every direction. Once realizing that he had a firm grip tightened around the torch, he tossed it back inside. Thrashing through the water and heaving himself up and over nearly tipped the boat, but he safely made it back in.
No longer caring whether he gets his feet wet, he sat with his shoes in the puddle while droplets added to the bottom of the boat as he shivered in the cold air.
“Idiot!” He cried out. Now he would surely freeze to death or at the very least have the most miserable night ever! He was so tired too . ..
Reaching down for the flashlight, he decided to try and forget the cold by reading more of the strange book from the beginning, as it was meant to be read. In an attempt to hide from the biting wind, he sat in the shallow-most part of the puddle with the flashlight positioned on the bench to provide his light.
Violently shuddering as he tried to fight the cold, he opened the book with shaky hands.
It was almost as easy to read using the moonlight so he turned off the flashlight to save batteries. It took a few repeated scans sometimes as his mind wandered away from the story or misread dim words but eventually, a sigh of relief came over him as he quickly finished the Prelude. Satisfied that the book seemed to be just a regular fantasy-type novel and nothing to do with him, he shut it and tossed it aside.
Remembering his wallet, he became excited as he scanned through the contents. Wet ruined paper, a couple photographs of familiar faces that he could not put names to, and one filthy dollar bill was all that was found. Turning the flashlight back on, he studied the faces of the photos closer and felt drawn to the  face of a certain girl. Wondering if she was a relative, he placed her welcoming photo on top and then put them all back in the wallet so that her picture was shown through a translucent flap. Finished, he stuffed it back into his jeans.
After turning the dimming flashlight off again, he removed his clothes to wring them dry. The shock did not last as long as he expected and soon he was numb and dry with his rags draped over both sides.
Flashes of survival television came to mind as he began rowing toward the North Star with the book used as an oar. With each pull his hands lost more and more feeling so he was forced to take breaks to warm them up or he would not be able to hold onto the book for long.
About another half-hour passed and he put his clothes back on since they became as dry as they were going to get. At first it seemed as if the wet would end up making him even more cold in the long-run, but after a few minutes it seemed to help some. The damp fabric was better than nothing because of the biting wind.
He could not help but think about the book and wonder about the picture.
‘What if it was about me?’
As he considered this, he heard whispering incoherent voices return as if to mock his thinking and delve into his fears. The sibilant sounds seemed to increase in volume but he could not make out what they were saying. Knowing that he was very delusional, he dismissed the thought of it being real.
His vision sparkled as if everything was contained in some gigantic television. It was easy for his eyes to be deceived in this state. It was as if he could see what he was thinking about within these dancing colors enveloping him.
And he could make out faces within the mist around him at times.
‘Who are they?’ He wondered as the fog seemed to carry these faces in for a closer look. Whenever he saw a face clearly, it would change shape or relocate position, but he did notice that they were looking down most of the time. It was almost as if they were holding something. ‘Are they praying?’
Then he recalled the book and a charge of adrenaline shot through his body. Frantically grabbing for the book, he re-examined the cover and wondered what the person was doing in the boat.
Almost passing out in the swirling confusion, he reminded himself to breath, and looked around for the flashlight.
Once finding it, he felt his heart drop to his feet at what he saw . ..
The person in the boat seemed to be reading just like he was!
Startled at the sight of a face in the smog so close to himself in the picture, he instinctively looked up to where this person would be located if actually there, if the picture were in fact of him, and saw the same image right in front of his very eyes! He was so shocked that all he could do was stare at it . .. her? .. . him? But before he could make out the facial features and grasp the detail, it seemed to fade away as if it had only been another illusion.
With a sigh of relief, he looked all around and decided that his mind must have been playing tricks again. His vision was distorted enough that he could probably see something that was not there but he did not want to try, deciding that it would bring no good to look for them any further.
However, he did want to make sure that the text was not about him, so he stumbled for it again and his fumbling fingers found the place where he had left off.
The Prologue.
He read the first few paragraphs about the senses returning to him and felt like something was about to pop out of the shadows at any time. It was as if he was reading his own memories.
‘What would happen if it really was about me?’ He wondered. ‘I really should continue rowing or something . .. I am wasting time and may die because of this nonsense.’ The feeling of being an actor playing the role of a show for a ghastly audience was not easy to shake loose.
He was almost too scared to go on reading but continued until the part about the missing oars. Too many coincidences matched to stop now but the artifical glow that ran across the page began to dim so he shut it off while the moon hid behind some clouds until he was temporarily shrouded in darkness.
The black seemed to emphasize the appearance of people surrounding the boat as if it were made up of colors that occasionally formed the shapes of various faces. The more he braved himself a look, the more silhouettes of each individual in the crowd were clearly defined by having a darker background.
Fear continued to rise as he felt like he was surrounded by people who  watched with unwelcome prying eyes, which seemed to only get worse when he looked away.
Not knowing what to do, he looked down at his hands and bowed his head in prayer, asking for the strength to face his death or whatever was to come with dignity.
Just in case anyone or anything was listening.
Digging the tips of his thumbs against pressure points within the ridge of his upper eye sockets felt nice. After a moment of silence, he lowered his hands to his lap.
Somehow, he felt a little better and rose his head to see if the people were still there. It sure as hell looked like he was surrounded by daemons, just like he saw in the picture, but it was too hard to tell if his eyes were playing tricks or not.
Trying to reminisce how The Prologue started made his reality feel even more like a dream. ‘If I was somehow creating this universe with my thoughts, than where are my thoughts coming from...? The life that I once had? Could these be the faces of people that I once knew?’
What was obviously nonsense thinking seemed much more real while surrounded by the shadow-figures. He would probably be a lot more disturbed if they were actually looking at him but luckily they still seemed to be looking down and not really paying attention. Most were facing his direction though.
‘The real answers must be in the book.’
He eagerly looked back into the sky, waiting for the clearing to reach the gleam. All he wanted to do was continue reading so that he could prove himself wrong and return to sanity.
‘Surely it was all just several weird occurrences and not really happening.’
He noticed that he had stopped shivering as much when the luminescent light returned and even made the scary images back off some.
‘Its only the ocean,' He reminded himself.
His thumb still kept his place so it was easy to pick up where he left off and it was more unbelievable than any of the visions thus far. The description of himself was almost immediately recognized and there were just too many coincidences to be ignored.
Hesitantly, he paused for a moment, and then he tried opening a section further along the story in search of a page that contained more than just a single sentence. He found a page filled with words that came to him like threats, ‘You have already been warned. You do not read ahead in the story so you will not be able to read ahead now. Do not challenge it. Something may happen to you to prevent you from reading ahead. Do not risk it. You have already been warned. You do not read ahead in the story so you will not be able to read ahead now. Do not challenge it. Something may happen to you...’ The message seemed to repeat until the page was filled so he went back to where he left off after taking a paranoid look around to make sure nothing unexpected was there.
He read each sentence carefully and many times would go back over stuff since it was so accurately describing what recently happened to him. He laughed out loud when he read the part about dropping the flashlight into the water but besides that he maintained his composure throughout the rest of the read and ignored all distracting audible and visuals haunting him.
There was no doubt in his mind at this point in that the novel was definitely about him and his current situation.
As he made it further, he realized that he would soon be reading about this exact moment. The very notion of this made it difficult to concentrate on the words enough to continue.
‘What will happen if I get to the part where I am reading about myself wondering about what will happen if I get to the part where I am reading about myself...?’
He shut the book and placed it on his lap as another cloud approached to cover the moon.
‘I wonder how many people have read this book?'
Again he was blanketed in darkness as the luminescence faded and just like before, he could see what could be a crowd of people surrounding him in the shadows.
“Is anybody out there?” The volume of his own voice jolted him as it was much louder than expected.
Nothing seemed to respond but he noticed that more people seemed to be facing him than before. A creepy presence washed over him as one of the figures began extending its hand out as if it was trying to reach for him.
Grabbing for the flashlight as if he had only a second more to live, he turned it on and pointed it directly into the face of the ghostly image . .. and found nothing there but swirling gray vapors.
Switching the torch back off made him realize that he should probably save the batteries for emergencies and so he hide it from himself for what he hoped to be the remainder of the night by putting it back into the box.
While waiting for some brightness to return, he studied one of the faces which appeared to be the same person that he was attracted to in his photograph. He almost called out to her but she quickly vanished into the whirling vortex.
‘Why are more of them turning to face me?’ He gulped. ‘Are they people that I once knew? Maybe people that are thinking of me now?’
“What do you want from me!?” He yelled out in confusion.
“Look at me!!”
Suddenly, one at a time, heads started to rise up to look directly at him.
Each gaze met him like a lightning bolt that sent shivers down his spine. The sensations continued and when he realized that they were holding open  books, he almost fainted as the remaining people still reading all looked up at once. Most facial expressions seemed startled as if they did not even know that he was there right in front of them until now.
‘Are they reading this story now?’

Look up.

Do you see him in front of you now?

Seeing many people take a sigh in relief, he did the same and sat down to stop from passing out. He felt safer by huddling his knees while rocking himself gently. While pondering the power of thought, he wondered if all he was seeing was every person who had ever read the story.
His back hurt from the constant tremors but he was too cold to stop shaking.
With closed eyes, he rest his forehead against his knees and felt his pounding heart calm down some. Trying to remember if he knew anything about what its like to die from dehydration, he started to consider the possibility of having a heart attack as well. His chest was thumping painfully hard so he remembered to take deep breaths and tried to relax more.
To clear his mind, he tried to block out every thought other than the pretty girl until the moonlight returned. He hoped to be with her again whoever she was and felt like she was here with him somehow. Sitting back cross-legged on the floor in a different spot of the boat while avoiding the puddle was tough but he managed it and changed positions which felt great.
Before reopening the book he fearfully asked himself, ‘what will happen if I keep reading?’
It was not the unknown that scared him as much as the words that he read. It was something about how he did not or could not read ahead in the story.
That would mean that his story may soon be coming to an end!?
After all, the book is quite thick and this is only the beginning!
He continued to read it anyways with determination and resolve.
When he made it to the previous few paragraphs his hands shook violently and his teeth chattered while his wide-eyes kept a bulging gaze onto the page. Coming across his own fears in the text that he felt a few seconds ago built the suspense.
  Finally he reached the part of the book where he was reading about himself reading about himself reading about himself reading about himself reading about himself reading about himself reading about himself....... [the words here spiral and shrink until they disappear]





He shut the book.
As he came across the infinite spiral of words he felt like the impossible was about to happen. When reaching the sentence at the bottom of the page, he hesitated but he decided that it may be better to obey and shut the book.
He could not help but wonder what would have happened if he did not and he fought off the urge to go back to continue the story.
‘May I read into the future?’
‘I will find out’, he vowed silently to himself as the boat started rocking more. He considered that someone changing the weather may have been trying to make him lose the book so he wobbled up and jammed it into his pocket as hard as he could until it was held securely enough that he could feel it securely pressed against his body. Only about a third would fit into his pocket, making it difficult to sit back down . .. while suddenly having to hold onto one of the sides as the waves increased.
‘What if I think of the other bulge in my pants?’
Silently, he laughed out loud and thought of being aroused during such a moment as this.
Then he started cracking up even harder when he noticed that other people in the shadows were holding back their own laughter. It did not take very long for these images to start bursting out in laughter of various sorts all over. When he noticed that one person looked like she could not stop snorting, he thought that he could hear her snorting because it was getting louder. That was when he noticed how many of the voices were laughing. He could not wipe off the silly grin as he calmed down. Some continued in a massive hysteria while other’s seemed to be apologetic.
Maybe it was good that he did not remember his life at this moment? What a humiliating experience it would be to accidentally think of private things in this situation and just then he quickly stopped himself from thinking of a naked child. Normally he would never have such a thought, but the fear of thinking about it was there.
Lightning danced around within dangerous looking clouds that increased speed as they moved closer.
Every clap reminded him of a camera taking a snap shot.
During the last wave, the amount of water that came over the sides of the boat was certainly a wake up call. A bad storm will surely drown his rowboat and he seemed to be getting sucked towards some major darkness and movement off in the distance.
‘This is going to kill me .. .’ He understood.
He stared into the eye of the maelstrom for a few minutes in awe as it appeared to be an enormous mouth of a monster closing down on him and it seemed to enveloped everything as it enlarged.
Not wanting to risk losing the book, he had to think of other options for something to use as an oar. Taking apart one of the benches seemed to be the best choice so he gave one a test tug.
‘This is going to be tough...’
With a few bursts of energy he pulled back on the board as hard as he could. He tried stomping all of his weight onto it and almost went overboard after kicking down on it several times.
It would not budge.
‘If only there were tools somewhere in this boat?’ He imagined a hidden compartment so he started searching for any kind of storage area that he may have missed.
He found nothing . .. not even a life-jacket!
‘Maybe, somehow the book can save me?’ He wondered how it seemed even possible to read while the boat was in motion being pulled closer into the storm but he wanted to continue reading in hopes of finding out if he would make it out of the peril.
He had a creeping hunch that he probably ends up drowning in the story.
A sigh of relief came as the waves died down for a moment but turned into
a gasp of horror as a strong current pulled him closer to a gigantic wave in the distance. The wave was so big that he knew it was going to tip his boat if he did not do something now so he pulled out the book again and used it to row toward the wave in hopes of being pulled through it safely.
He held his breath as the boat reached the top of the wave.
An adrenaline rush hit him as he dived onto the front of the boat. The extra weight was enough to save him from being tipped backwards as he came down fast with a big splash and cruised down the other side safely.
Several smaller waves came when he reached the bottom but were much easier to handle. Using the book, he scooped water out as he drifted into the calm of what seemed to be the center of the storm. A monstrous sight swirled above while lightning crackled within the dark clouds. The sight was overwhelmingly dangerous yet somehow peaceful at the same time.
Luckily, the ominous spot was calm enough to allow him to scoop out most of the water and sit back down with the book with hope to have enough time to continue reading before the next wave comes large enough to tip him over.
He examined the cover carefully and realized that he was again sitting in the same spot as the person in the illustration and with this came the fear of seeing people in the shadows again but he  opened it anyways and easily found where he had last left off.
Before reading on, he wondered what would have happened if he did not shut the book when the story said and denied his urge to look up just in case he would start seeing people again . .. but in his peripheral vision he could tell that they were still there somehow.
Focusing on the words enough to read and grasping the meaning of each word was more difficult than before but he was determined to read on. The paragraph where he left off had to be read almost four times because he was so distracted.
Telling himself firmly that he would continue reading even if the book said otherwise, he found hidden confidence that pushed his will forward.
His hair stood up on the back of his neck as he read every sentence, expecting the unexpected to come out at any moment. A few times he had to close his eyes, take a deep breath, and mutter a silent prayer before reading on.
He could smell electricity in the air.
His heart jumped as he turned the page because again as he came across a spiral design of words as he read about himself reading about himself while reading about himself while reading about himself while reading about himself.. . [a spiral design with the words appears here just like it did the last time]





[picture of himself in the boat looking at a picture of himself in the boat looking at a picture of himself in the book looking, etc.]





They see me again.
He knew this as he continued reading because in his peripheral vision he could see what looked like people surrounding him but this time it felt more like a blanket of security as he felt the rush of knowing the readers were concerned as well and he felt that they also wanted him to live.
As he wondered what would come up next, he feared another incoming wave but kept reading on without looking as more chills came down his spine when he stole a glance long enough to see that there was not another large wave for at least a few seconds.
Every thought was felt as if shared with many others.
Read on.
Choose your words, genius.
The next words seemed to form immediately after he mentally asked for it and his peripheral vision unraveled what was next.

SAVE ME!

He realized the power and opportunity that had been given to him.
Please God or whatever, he did not want to die now, not like this!
Feeling the boat rise from an incoming wave and being pulled closer toward the danger did not stop the feeling of light coming down into his head and throughout his body.
Something was looking out for him.
Something is here.
People were praying for him?
Don’t look at the next wave . .. just read on!
It was as if he could feel the presence of all the people reading about this moment. Especially those who could feel the light entering their bodies as lightning crackled in the sky above him and possibly those few who could feel the light entering his body.
He found faith as the boat sped up ominously and began to imagine sunshine and calm waters surrounding him and fought off the urge to close his eyes knowing that it was likely the last wave to come.
Accept your fate.
You are saved!
Now.
Know it!
Don’t think of the next sentence . ..
Create it!

‘Feel the sun coming down as the night becomes day.’ His read his own wish as it was written.

The night became day before him as light entered him and illuminated the page.
The cold became warm as he continued to read on beneath the Sun.
The pulling waters became gentle and his shoulders dropped in relief.
All shadows disappeared as darkness was defeated because out of nowhere the sun came like an answer to all of his prayers.
Impossible!
“Thank you for not taking my life now.” He whispered and he read it then closed the book.
He felt light-headed and closed his eyes in the relief of having another  chance at life and so came the end of the prologue along with some fresh rain water to drink. .. thank the heavens!
He quenched his thirst and then found sleep easily while basked in the newfound sunlight.



Prelude

“The word Yanci means preservation after death in the most ancient Gnaak tongue.”
- from the Diviner’s official historical guide for the Age of Death





A lone shadowy figure quietly strode down a lengthy corridor leading to the throne room despite an apparent limp. He ignored the pain from the wet gaping wound across his right thigh, the slash went all the way through an iron cuisse but even in his current state, he did not carry himself as mechanically as the typical soldiers found in these parts.
Although he kept to the shadows, he presented himself with a proud posture and dignified grace that more closely resembled a solemn priest despite his Death Knight attire.
Along with any weapon that was carried being concealed, most who were familiar with the keep would probably guess right away that he likely wore the title of the Knife which was a high-ranking assassin within the Death Army. Most would show off iron proudly and stomp on by as if there was nothing to worry about but he carried himself like a cat on the prowl.
His lord had summoned him unexpectedly so he had not the time to tidy up in something fancier than some very used Death Knight attire of blackened plate mail that he had used for dueling earlier that day. He wore no helm and had a greasy full head of hair which was tucked behind his ears and fell past his shoulders down his thick cloak half way down his back. It was too dark to make out any other features.
The Yanci favored black over any color which was probably a good thing since they tended to be so dirty that anything else would have shown so much filth that they would probably be more commonly known as the Dirt Army rather than  the Death Army.
Those of this Army were known to practice necromancy and established order among the undead and the living about to die but did not tend to care about cleanliness for the living and were not about to pick up after them and torches were often not lit in the hallways as that was another luxury that only the living shared.
Not that there was anything uplifting to be seen anyways but the thought of something crossing his path did come to mind. Despite being completely safe among his own kind, he preferred to get in and out without being noticed. It was nobody’s business what kind of dirty work he did for his Lord.
Everything was covered in dust and spider webs among the kind of rubble someone would not want to rummage through. Occasional heaps of garbage and even corpses could be found at random, making the place barely breathable for the unfortunate few that were still alive serving within the keep.
Outside of the chance at an extremely expanded artifical lifespan, the Yanci did not have the luxuries that other armies had to offer. They had drugs as  available as food used to attract whores and bardic visitors but most of those among the living folk would always steer clear from the stench of the Yanci presence by any reasonable means so it was usually dreadfully silent within.
It took a bit for a new recruit to get used to working with the reek of death constantly in the air so smoking was popular since it was hard to wait for the occasional ritually favored incense to cover up the stench. 
The neglected comfort level among the living soldiers tended to make them more cruel from the get go and they were completely without remorse over time when compared to other armies. It was said that when they returned from the dead, they no longer physically felt a thing and until brought back from the dead, they were ordered around by ageless undead beings that knew too well, from experience, that suffering was limited only by time. Mercy or honor was not a word used among their ranks and living soldiers usually had free reign over the women of the conquered which was one of the only signs that they cared for what their men felt so long as they fought for the appropriate side.
Nobody denied that everything the Yanci stood for was downright a lust for power without remorse. They had no respect for life as their dead made most of the decisions.
The so-called eternal life that was promised was not everything that it was polished up to be by the recruiters and it showed when joining after awhile when  noticing what happened to the lives of those who had served the Yanci over time. They usually start out with hopes of an endless future knowing that someday they would be able to continue living in their body even after death and that there would be spells meant to preserve them as they once were. In reality, most wither away into skeletons after only a hundred years or so due to boredom that came with no longer having the luxuries of a living body with real natural desires. 
Inactivity within the ranks was a big problem because many of the undead longed to be beaten out of existence if the boredom lasted long enough. This was one of the main reasons that they seemingly let the enemy win sometimes. The loss of mortal feelings is hard to handle for some. They even try to prolong war to have more time and have something to do in hopes to enjoy the activity more but in the end many of their ranks lose interest if not prodded by their superiors continuously. The undead do not grow bored due to the awareness of time as a mortal being would though and can blink away years as if they were seconds if they are not active.
The living were not the only ones who would occasionally commit suicide from entrapment. The dead have done it too but it was very rare since the Necromancers did what they could to keep them busy. Naturally, those who could find most enjoyment as an undead corpse were the ones who would enjoy games of wit and strategy. Everything that could be fun without involving emotion was encouraged so that men would strive after the life of being undead and maybe even look forward to it sometimes. Doing things to simply satisfy the living was frowned upon and thought to create undead that were more like aimless pathetic drones without purpose. Their leaders goal was to break their individual spirits enough that they no longer cared for what they were feeling emotionally and strive for something more like the participation of a real challenge.
Still, happiness is relative. 
Some of the highest ranking members of the Yanci appeared to be alive when they were in fact dead and did so for hundreds of years. These were the strong willed who loved competition and have forgotten the luxuries of mortality.
The Yanci favor making tattoos and drawing runes on their armor, clothing, and weapons among other objects which contain supernatural properties. They are decorated during special rituals and ceremonies for various religious or practical purposes. The most common would be that of an initiate member tattooed with runes to assist the caster in raising the body after the life had ended.
The hallway was long.
A feeling of being watched swept over him as he stepped over some blood-red runes painted on the floor where the corridor came to the final bend. The markings alarmed the lord of the keep when someone was approaching so he knew that his presence was known.
Torches flickered ominous shadows as they lined the walls until the end of the hallway where two guards were posted across from each other with polearms  extended out so that they blocked the entryway. They too, were clad in blackened iron plate mail adorned with Yanci runes, as most high-ranking knights wore. Both guards were living corpses but fresher than most and could almost pass as being still alive if they did not stink of decay so bad.
“You look pretty calm for what you are about to face.” One of them chuckled as they uncrossed the glaives so that he could pass. This conjured some nervousness but he quickly shrugged it off with a laugh as it was probably just a joke. Unfortunately that did not stop his gut from turning as some frightening thoughts of being punished came to him.
‘Damn him!’ He thought as he fought to clear his mind. Most Lichlords conveyed telepathically so were aware of all the thoughts coming from the living around them. Already he could sense his Lord’s presence entering his mind and knew that his thoughts were being probed. 
Then with a smile, which was rare on a dead person, the knight opened one of the huge chamber doors releasing a chill breeze upon him with the loud screeching of rusty hinges.
His heartbeat sped up as he entered the vast chamber and the clamor of his echoing boots made him feel larger than he wanted to. Fortunately, the sound muffled when he reached the red rug. After a few stairs, two rows of round pillars that disappeared into the shadows above, guided the carpet to the final set of stairs before the throne. Every other column bared a torch but it was not enough to illuminate the domed ceiling above. About half a dozen braziers burned so the air smelled of incense but it was not enough to cover the pungent stench of decay.
The Lichlord awaited his approach on a throne decorated with runes and skulls. It patiently stroked one of the skulls on the end of the chair’s right arm which held a mace in its teeth as if longing to grab the weapon.
If it were not for the servants constant grooming, the Lichlord would have lost all of his flesh long ago but even after being dead for almost two hundred years he still had some of his skin attached, but somewhere along the lines must have stopped caring, because he looked like a skeleton and his bones were exposed in some areas. 
Some Liches used their sorcery to appear more like they were still alive but most stop caring after a few dozen years and have gotten over trying to pretend that they can still live as they did and tend to let themselves rot.
This particular Lichlord had a reputation for not caring about what the living had to put up with when staying beside him so he did not plan on staying in this keep for long and was hoping that this visit to his lord would give him the opportunity to leave or to do something to make his life more bearable.
The ghastly gaze of the Lich seemed to sink into his soul.
He tried to clear his mind by counting to ten over and over again as he walked down the red carpet toward his Master. Once he reached the base of the stairs he knelt down on one knee and kept his head down.
‘You may stand and face me, young one.’ The voice in his head clearly spoke to him but from no particular direction.
Slowly, he lifted himself up and straightened his posture. He did not look back into those glowing eyes until standing. For some reason he was much more 
uncomfortable while his eyes were locked with the Lich but he held his stare steady and took a deep breath.
“How may I serve my Lord?” He tried his best not to tremble in place but his body kept jerking as if it wanted to run.

(work in progress)

‘I know that you don’t like serving us Liches, and that you think we do not care about your discomfort but you are wrong.’ The voice sounded apologetic yet powerful. ‘We care because we can feel your essence and know every thought and feeling that the living around us share. Its easier not to become bored to death when living people are around having fun but it can also feel like a headache and we occasionally need our distance. Do you understand? I didn’t realize how musty the air must be in here and so I apologize and it will be cleaned up soon.’
“Thank you, my Lord.” He bowed his head and tried not to notice a few rats scurrying about behind the throne. From habit and practice, he dismissed unwanted thoughts like being hit in the head with a hammer. No need to think of disgusting rats. His legs shook in place and most definitely were noticeable since the iron chausses clinked.
‘Ahhh I see that you have met Randy and Nibbles.’ The Lich leaned over the chair’s arm and looked at the rats. They seemed to respond as pets and approached him for a greeting. He held out his hand and allowed them to run up to his shoulders where they seemed most comfortable. ‘It is lonely in here at times.’ He explained as he shrugged.
‘Don’t think about the rat poo!’ He cursed himself of the thought then relaxed a bit and sighed. He was grateful for the distraction of the doors closing behind him since it helped to stop more potentially negative thoughts from forming.
He seemed to be telepathically linked to the rats somehow, perhaps through the Lich, but every time that he thought about how disgusting it was to nibble on a dead man’s ear, the rat would draw attention to something else. One of the rats came to the edge of the armchair and sniffed at him like a dog.
‘Let’s get down to business, shall we?’ The Lichlord authorized. ‘The reason that I have called you here is because I have a very special task for you which may take some years to accomplish. Have you ever heard of an Earth artifact?’
The knight shifted in place at the question. “N-no”, he stuttered.
‘Earth is where the ancient English language originated.’ One of the teeth appeared loose as it explained. ‘Earth artifacts of this ancient culture have been showing up all over Xethynaar.’
“Artifacts from another world?” He straightened in interest.
‘Indeed, another world!’ After another nibble to the ear, the Lich lowered the rat from his shoulder to the edge of the armrest where it scurried out of sight. ‘Some are made of materials that we have never even seen!’ He went on with excitement.
“How are they getting here?” An inquisitive brow raised as he dared a question.
‘That is what I want you to find out for me.’ Laughter echoed in his mind but he did not understand the humor. ‘They have a Diviner covering their tracks but so far I know that a ship called the Seeker is recover these artifacts from a voyage towards the end of the ocean.’
“The Seeker?”
‘Yes. I would like you to find a way into the crew and find out all about their operation. In the meantime you will be watched and followed out to sea.’ The skeleton lowered its head and seemed sad for a moment. ‘And then I will ask you to betray everyone on board and assist with our claiming the operation for our own.’
There was a brief silence until nothing but the flickering torches were heard in the distance. Occasionally the deadly mace held by the armchair flickered in the light and reminded him how vulnerable he was in front of his Lord. Both rats had disappeared out of sight. He wondered for a moment why he was chosen.
‘I am aware of your ability to hide thoughts from telepathic interrogation.’ The voice in his head answered. ‘It is possible that you will be captured and questioned by their Diviner. We will teach you more about suppressing memories.’
“I will turn on the enemy during the most strategic moment after they accept me as their own.” The knight solemnly promised and then bowed again. He appreciated and was kind of surprised how he felt the Lich pity him for having the unpleasant task of making friends and then stabbing their backs. It was the first time that he had realized that a Lich could have a conscience like a regular person.
‘Very good.’ The Lich loved feeling the knight’s excitement as he thought of leaving his everyday life and doing something new for a change. ‘We will begin by promoting you and taking part of a ritual to aid us in reading your thoughts from far away.’
He was not excited about the idea of never having privacy again but the  gentle voice in his head seemed to understand and whispered assurance that it would be worth it.
‘Allow me to introduced you to the others who would be infiltrating the ship with you . ..’