DIR Return Create A Forum - Home
---------------------------------------------------------
Legacy of Roku
HTML https://legacyofroku.createaforum.com
---------------------------------------------------------
*****************************************************
DIR Return to: Media Zone
*****************************************************
#Post#: 2735--------------------------------------------------
The Foundation
By: Dmitri Date: May 18, 2012, 2:13 am
---------------------------------------------------------
Alright! This is my official Foundation thread!!! Come here for
updates, sneak peaks, stories, and much more!! :D
Feedback is ALWAYS appreciated!!
For those who do not know what the Foundation is, it is a
project I am working on. A book, really. To put it bluntly, a
fantasy Odyssey which holds its basis in many of the worlds
religions. An organization of blood draining, soul devouring,
crusading, insanely cannibalistic entities...and they are the
GOOD guys.
Update: Got hooked up with a publisher! They be actually
interested in this story. I hope I don't screw things up =.=
Wish me luck guys!!
#Post#: 2753--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Foundation
By: Dmitri Date: May 21, 2012, 10:19 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
---
Relics of a Past
---
Prelude
Who am I? Where am I? What’s my name? When am I?
They won’t stop screaming at me, I see them, hiding in the
shadows, asking me who I love. What is love? I can’t understand
their language, so tiny, fleeting, I wonder what they taste
like. I’m so hungry. I think I’m hungry. Am I hungry? Please
tell me, am I hungry? I have the spiders in me, under my skin,
I have to scratch them out, so I did. I bled and bled and bled
yet I still cut. I didn’t have a choice, they are in me. I
think, am I real? What is real?
Jan. 1st
The world is a dark place, so, I have officially decided to keep
a journal. My psychiatrist said it was a good idea to put my
thoughts and feelings down on “paper“. I don’t know about that,
but what ever. I’m not the one with a degree.
I have been starting to have really weird fucking dreams since
I’ve been playing with the little black ring I found. It was in
the middle of the road. At first, it wasn’t, and then, it just
was. The ground and the air was fucking hot around it and the
ground looked liked it turned to glass. I waited a few minutes
before picking it up. While the ground was blazing, the ring
itself was cool to the touch, and was perfectly shaped. No
damage what so ever either.
Its late, so I’m going to stop writing for now. Back to
dreamscapes, and nightmares.
Jan 2nd
Interesting things happened today. When I woke up this morning,
I practically screamed myself awake. The nightmare was
terrifying. Things that, exist but yet don’t. There were shapes,
shadows, telling me to wake up, but I couldn’t. I’m surprised I
didn’t fucking piss myself.
The second thing, and probably more important than a nightmare,
is that I took the ring to my best friend to be checked out. He
runs a jewelry shop and works with a whole bunch of crazy
equipment meant to cut into diamonds and shit. He told me that
the ring is impossible to date, but more importantly, the ring
itself is harder than diamond. I don’t understand the big deal
about that, but he’s making a fuss about it not even being able
to exist. What ever, It’s my ring now.
Before I started to write tonight (I always write at twelve at
night) I was looking at the ring again, and underneath has
little inscriptions. I can’t understand the language, and it
hurts my head to look at them for to long. I’m going to take it
back to my friend tomorrow and just leave it with him.
Jan 3rd
The ring changed. It was originally to small to fit my index
finger, but its bigger now. I slipped it over my finger and
then…nothing. I was expecting some sort of surge of power,
something paranormal or extraterrestrial even. Nope. Nothing. No
harm in keeping it around for a few more days though, right?
Jan 5th
I have to keep my lights on. I’m starting to hear voices. As
weird as that may sound, its true. They whisper to me in a
language I cannot understand. Maybe, I just need some more
sleep, or maybe, this is all just a dream.
Jan 17th
I haven’t slept for days. I’m stuck pacing the hallways and
writing equations on the fucking wall. Also, I can’t take the
damn ring off. If I do, the doors turn into brick walls and I
can’t leave my apartment. I’m so hungry, nothing seems to sate
my hunger.
When I stare at something for to long, I hear their voices
again. They call to me, as though they know me, they think they
do. I’m not who they think I am. I’m not an esjai
Jan 29th
I’ve been dreaming lately. At least, I think I have been. I
can’t tell the difference between my reality and dreams, since
I’m dreaming while awake now. My reality is becoming weirder and
weirder.
Something called, The Foundation. Calling to me. I have to kill
myself.
Jan 30th
I can’t kill myself. Tried to overdose on pills, didn’t work. I
didn’t even vomit them up. Just, nothing. I tried to use a gun,
but, I have no control over my hands anymore. They are strapped
to my chest. Im afraid of myself. I’m afraid of what I will do
to me, I am no longer me but another. Of course im afraid, I’m
trying to kill myself. But why? Cuz I don’t wanna do this
anymore. You don’t have a choice. Why? Fear
I’m afraid.
I don’t know how I’m typing right now, I can’t use my arms.
I don’t want see myself, I’m afraid of the mirrors. My
reflections stare at me. They wanna kill me
Jan 31st
I fed today. Someone snuck into my house, broke in. Fucking
thief. Deserved it. He was going to kill me, I know it. He’s
been watching me for a long time, making sure I don’t leave and
spread my reason.
I snuck up behind him, which was hard. I can’t walk in a
straight line anymore. He turned around when I was ten feet
away, and shot me in the chest. At least, he shot at me, cuz the
bullets hit the wall behind me. He screamed in terror as I
lunged forward, my teeth bared. He stopped screaming when I
ripped his throat from neck, his blood splashing onto my face.
And I ate.
This was the first time I tasted human flesh.
Nothing was left.
Not even bone.
I’m so hungry
God kill me
Jan 31st
Sometimes I wonder if the sky is really blue. Sometimes I wonder
if the ocean is blue. Sometimes I wonder why im real. Nothing
adds up anymore. Numbers have no meaning, just gibberish. Even
words are losing the meaning I once clung to. I can’t believe ím
so hungry, I thought it’s impossible to be so hungry. Perhaps I
deserve this, perhaps, this world can be - while I didn’t know
that I understand I guess I can know. Individuality is being the
left center away from the right. Together we are the same as the
individual. For them I am one. I serve only Thirteen.
I deny thee.
I rebuke thee.
Save me.
Jan 35th
I don’t know why I’m still using this journal. I’m surprised I
even know how to put words on the page. I feel what I want to
think and then I scream it at the computer and it writes it.
Weird huh? Is the computer real anymore? Or am I imagining it
like im imagining the man in black standing behind me? He feels
so real, thus he must be.
I see the world from my windows, and its going insane out
there.
They all think that by keeping me locked up, that they are safe.
Do they really think they can keep me locked up in this cage?
God kill me
I will feast on their children, tear them apart in front of the
parents before devouring them too. The kids taste the best,
their blood is sweeter and flesh, softer.
Jan 38th
The world is insane
The city of sin is on fire.
It seems my insanity is spreading and that makes the voices
happy. I looked in the mirror today. I have some sort of jacket
around my body. It stopped being white however, when I bashed my
head into the mirror. I was afraid of the thing in it so I
killed it. I had to kill it because it was going to kill me. I
smashed my head into it again and again and again.
I was hungry, so I ate the glass. Not as good as others, but my
own blood tastes just as well. I chewed my tongue up but its
back again. Regeneration?
Jan 45th
They fucking caught me. I escaped my prison only to be caught
again. These ones are different. Their armor is harder, bigger
and sharper. It takes more effort to bite through them.
The voices are excited though, I know that. Maybe they will take
me to a prison where I can feast? That would be nice.
The ring is in my stomach.
I ate it.
God kill me.
#Post#: 2759--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Foundation
By: Dmitri Date: May 21, 2012, 10:35 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
---
Bleed
---
The sprawling city below the dead gray sky reeks of sin.
Towering buildings scrape the heavens, polluting it with greed,
lust, and a cold indifference so massive one can drown in it.
The city is massive and run by individuals so corrupt that the
very word progress is synonymous with police brutality. This
city is a wasteland.
The dark underbelly of society rules this place, subjugating
its citizens into drones and husks whose only purpose of
existence is to rape, lie, and kill. The alleys are bathed in
the blood of innocents and the streets are simply extended
alleyways.
A man in a black trench coat walks along the sidewalk of a
quiet street. Sirens scream in the distance, barely audible
against the noise of subways, cars, and blaring music playing in
nightclubs that infest city blocks. He pulls his trench coat up
a little higher to cover his face as he walks by a flashing blue
neon light in front of a strip club. His jet black leather boots
make a small splash as he steps into a small puddle. He carries
on.
Eventually, je stops in front of a small warehouse and stares
at the entrance before reaching into his trench coat and pulling
out a carton of cigarettes. He opens it, takes out a rather
crumpled looking cancer stick, and puts it in-between his lips.
Pulling out a small black lighter, he lights the cigarette while
shielding the flame with his hand. With a puff of smoke, he
takes a step toward the entrance, his eyes never leaving the now
ominous doorway.
He reaches for the door knob, but stops. A small splotch of red
mars the silver steel, the red of blood. Moving his hand back,
he reaches into the inside of his coat and brings to bear a
beautiful black handgun. Obsidian designs are imprinted along
the barrel of the weapon, making it look as though two dragons
where eating each other on the black steel. He switches off the
safety of his death bringer and opens the door with a soft
creak.
During the twelve years of working as a detective in the
country’s most corrupted city, he has never seen anything like
the lobby. The ground is drenched in a pool of red, the walls
and ceiling painted with the same crimson liquid. The
overpowering stench of blood fills the air and he cannot help
but to bend over and gag. Reaching into his jacket again, he
pulls out a handkerchief and covers his mouth and nose with it.
Bodies lay in heaps around the room, piled in corners and
strewn about the red lobby. The faces of the damned forever
locked in the unmistakable grimace of terror. He has seen plenty
of dead during his time as a detective, but none could match the
conditions of these. Pieces are missing; arms, legs, and even
heads. He shudders and takes a few more steps into the room
while keeping his back to the wall, his gun pointing forward.
He slowly makes his way through the carnage to the door on the
opposite end of the room. The now red door is slightly ajar,
carefully he opens it as to not make a noise. He gazes into the
massive room beyond and what he sees sends chills down his
spine. Like the room before, this one is filled with bodies.
Vital organs are strewn about on the corpses. Many of the dead
still grip what they held when they were so ruthlessly
slaughtered. Many were holding guns. His gaze lifts from the
bodies to the object in the middle of the room.
An alter. A beautiful, blood drenched alter, the top platform
resembles a clawed demon hand extending to the heaven it was
kicked out of. The stand supporting it looks as though made of
flesh, human skin stretched over what are obviously parts of
several severed limbs wrapping around each other.
He shifts his eyes back to the clawed platform and notices a
dark red mass. Staying close to the wall, which he notices to be
pocketed with bullet holes of all sizes, he carefully makes his
way through destroyed room until he is but a few feet from the
alter. On it, a heart lies. The world is silent, for one second,
for two. Then, piercing the veil of reality, the heart beats,
ending the worlds answer of rationality.
He backpedals, shock and disgust filling him like old friends
embracing each other. That’s when he realizes what feels off
about the entire place. The blood he is stepping in, warm as
though it had just been spilled moments before he entered, is
because it HAD been spilled before he entered. The slaughter,
killing, destruction; all done within a few minutes time frame,
but for the damned that litter the room, those minutes must have
felt like hours. The cigarette falls from his lips as he comes
upon another revelation, if the killing was done only minutes
before his arrival, then the killers never left.
He spins around, almost slipping in the red gore, only to find
a woman before him. Before a word could fall from his lips, she
slashes his chest with some sort of bladed staff weapon. With a
cry of pain, he takes a step back, warm blood falling from his
chest and soaking his trench coat and the bullet proof vest
underneath. With a shaky hand, he lifts his death cannon and
fires it directly into her face, the bullet smashing through her
forehead and exiting the other end, bits of brain tissue flying.
He fires again, the next bullet slamming into her chest causing
her body to be thrown back from the force of the impact.
As her body reels away from him, he dashes towards her. He’s
fast, his body becoming little more than a blur before switching
his gun and reaching the falling body. He extends his hand
outward, wrapping his free hand around her neck with an iron
grip plunging a brilliant silver knife into her stomach.
Reaching out with his free hand, he grips onto her neck and
slices his blade up her body, cutting through her stomach, chest
and bisecting her heart.
He allows her body to fall to the ground this time, she’s as
dead as could be. He winces as the flow of blood ceases to seep
from his chest, his body closing up the wound in but a few
seconds time. He slides the knife back into his sleeve, taking
care not to cut himself from the wicked looking blade with the
many runes etched across its surface.
Kneeling down beside the female’s body, he carefully lifts her
lifeless hand and turns it over so the palm is facing upward.
The Eisynte, the solemn mark of the Endless upon her hand. The
Blood Witches of Eternity.
He sighs before standing once more and, just as quickly as he
entered the warehouse, he leaves it. He exits to find the night
raining, thunder clapping so loud that the rest of the wasted
city leaves no noise. He gazes at the blackened sky and he
knows: the blood witch that attacked him earlier wasn’t meant to
kill him, she was meant to warn him. Warn him to stay away.
Syrina is back in town.
#Post#: 2783--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Foundation
By: Dmitri Date: May 22, 2012, 12:16 am
---------------------------------------------------------
---------------
Chapter 1
---------------
The darkness was cursed within silent disarray. The birds did
not sing and the wind did not blow. This world is becoming an
empty shell, holly and devoid of life. The blackened sky
swallows the light from the stars, leaving an empty void in its
wake.
Underneath the blank sky, a young man strolls forward, every
step propelling him towards his destination. The shadows
threaten to drown him in their blackness, however his soft
silver eyes pierce the smothering darkness around him. Above
him, distant worlds lie, their influence to far away and
insignificant to matter to anyone. At least, anyone left on this
barren world.
Almost three days have passed since the world ended; cities
turned to dust and the defenders responsible for the realm,
destroyed. When she first appeared, there were mixed reactions.
The leaders argued on how to react to the threat, and when they
finally decided to wage war, it was all much too late. The
plight of those on the verge of death, the individuals who had
their lives stripped from them so violently and prematurely,
mean nothing to the silver eyed man.
The man, slim and young in appearance, carefully gazes into the
blackness around him. The dying world, struggling in its last
moments, spawned creatures so adept at hunting thinking beings
that even silver eyes wishes to be careful. He moves along
slowly, his black clothing blending him into the night. He’s
close.
Alas, upon the horizon, the pathetic star which this world
revolves around begins to lazily appear. Instead of welcoming
the sunlight, Silver-eyes plunges into a forest of dead trees,
the once beautiful trees now laying in a grave of leaves and
fallen branches.
He stops for a moment, and glances at the world above him. A
soft sigh escapes him, his mission is taking longer than
expected. Just as he begins to continue walking, a fleeting
glimpse of movement draws his attention. Silver-eyes extends his
left hand, feeling the nothingness around him. He glances
upwards and frowns. Rose pedals drifting down as though boats on
an ocean fill the windless air. Tentatively, he reaches outwards
with a trembling hand, a pitch black ring on his index finger.
A single rose pedal lands on his palm, a striking blood red
against his obsidian glove. It is a sign of beauty, of life, of
passion and hope; God mocks him with those concepts, all
contained within an insignificant piece of a flower. A surge of
acidic energy rips through the man and into his hand, wilting
the pedal before completely disintegrating it.
Frustrated and annoyed, a soft growl escapes him. This world is
dying and yet it contained more beauty and life than he ever
could. Life always seems to have a way to disappearing when in
his presence, but what else is to be expected of Death?
Silver-eyes bites his lip, his guard up and his mind expanded as
he gathers his energy around his slim body. However, before he
can take but another step, a lightning arc of ruby red highly
concentrated energy blows through his chest, the force of the
impact blasting him backwards a couple of feet. Silver-eyes
dives to the side narrowly missing another red bolt.
“God damn, someone has become a little careless,” the voice in
the back of his head whispers to him. His chest smokes from the
blast, the skin underneath singed and burned for but a moment
before healing. He closes his eyes, his breathing slowing and
mind clearing all thoughts except for those he does not control,
those thoughts gifted from his guardian angel itself.
Silver-eyes tilts his head to the side just as a blast of
energy blows out a chunk of tree where his head previously was.
As the blast cleaved through the tree, he scrambles to his feet.
Turning around, he gasps as another arc hits him, tearing
through his shoulder and ultimately separating his arm from his
body. Slumping down onto the ground, his labored breathing
slows. He fights for each breath, struggling to continue living.
He reaches out his hand, almost silently praying to whatever god
watches over him. His breathing ceases.
The moment he breathes his last, crimson blood bubbles up from
the very ground itself, swirling around like a vortex before
spiraling into the air creating a column of pure blood. Slowly,
fingertips pierce the swirling vortex from the inside and inch
by inch, reveals a feminine hand. The bloody palm reveals a
pitch black mark, a crescent moon seemingly devouring a sigil.
Walking out of the towering gore, a beautiful woman gazes at
the man she fell. Her shining crimson hair, complimented by her
striking light red eyes, falls to the middle of her back; her
smile cruel but yet somehow still retaining a sense of beauty.
She struts forward, swaying her hips seductively. With each
self-confident step taken, bright lines of blood trail behind
her from her slashed wrists, the brutal gashes leaking blood
onto the ground. Her blood pours down her arm and over her
hands, creating a haunting trail of red.
“So this was my assassin?” the woman mutters with disdain, her
voice obviously disappointed. She looks the man over head to toe
as he lies against the pine tree supporting him. She tilts her
head to the side momentarily confused. Something feels wrong,
something feels OFF. She grins, realizing the issue. He isn’t
bleeding, nor does his body contain blood.
“Kiril, Enro, come here,” she commands, a hint of excitement in
her voice. She feels the tower of blood shift behind her and two
muscular apprentices back her up. She looks at Kiril, who holds
his twisted black staff in his hands before looking at Enro, a
twisted white staff on his back.
“What is wrong with this situation?” she asks, a cruel smirk
marring her perfect features.
“The situation? He isn’t bleeding, didn’t attempt to fight
back, and didn’t try to defend himself other than a very
pathetic attempt at a dodge. This is a trap,” Kiril says
quietly. Although he is smaller than Enro, he is older, and in
his own insignificant opinion, stronger.
“Who would want to trap us? We are the Endless. Only a fool
would try to fuck with us. Right Syrina,” asks Enro. He frowns.
Only a fool would try to fight a blood mage and his mistress.
Being hunted was never a problem for him.
Syrina’s smirk widens into a malicious grin. Countless
centuries have passed since she was last hunted, but who could
it be this time, especially since she waged war with the entire
world and won? Checking inwardly, she doesn’t sense anybody, nor
have any of her wards or protection spells been tripped. She
forgot the joy of being hunted, the thrill of almost being
killed. She slides her hand up her body, the finger trails of
blood disappearing into her skin.
Before anybody could react, a wire of silver energy rips
through Kiril’s chest, slicing him clean in half. As Kiril’s
blood showered Enro, a silver blast rips through his head,
destroying him instantly. Syrina quickly spins around, teeth
bared at her invisible attacker. As she scans the area for her
assassin, an extremely cold hand grips her lower ankle, a vice
of death. She looks down, the man she thought she killed
grinning maniacally at her, his stunning silver eyes boring into
her.
With a snarl, she aims for his face and kicks as hard as she
can, her heels violently ripping into the skin on his face.
However, despite the power behind the kick, his skin does not
tear. Her heart pounding, feeling sensations she imagined to
never experience once more. Almost frightened, she attempts to
pull away, but Silver-eyes holds her with incomprehensible
strength fueled by a very inhuman desire. With a crash, she
falls onto the ground. Almost as fast as the pressure appeared
on her leg, it disappears. She looks up at the man standing
above her.
“Get up,” he whispers, his voice piercing the air and echoing
in her head. “I do not wish to kill you, but I will to achieve
my ends. Get up.”
“Fuck you,” she growl. As the last word leaves her mouth, the
blood flowing from her wrists eerily stops flowing. “You’re
going to die now,” she says with a smile. Her blood flows around
itself, solidifying and wrapping, creating wicked looking
tendrils of compressed blood. They blast from the pool, piercing
Silver-eyes body in a dozen different spots.
Her smile fades and she cannot help but to watch. The man
struggles against the tendrils and although his body is
completely pierced, begins to inch his way forward. Slowly, he
curls his hand in around the tendril piercing his palm,
disintegrating it as his fingers brush against the cold, hard
blood. Silver-eyes grins before a single word leaves his mouth
that is much to be quiet to be heard. Suddenly, with a small
silver shockwave blows through Syrina, blasting the magically
powered tendrils away.
Quick as lightning, she regains her footing. With a dim flash
of ruby light, she summons her weapon before slashing towards
Silver-eyes. He leans back, allowing the baton-like staff
crowned with a brutal blade to pass harmlessly just inches from
his skin. Black words catch his attention and he grimaces. Her
weapon is covered with sigils and glyphs, making the weapon even
more dangerous. He moves to the side, expertly evading her
attacks, until another tendril of blood pierces his body again.
Surprised, the man barely had enough time to throw his arms up
in front of his face before her blade sinks into his skin,
nearly separating his arms from his body. He grunts with
surprise, her weapon can touch spiritual beings. No wonder she
and her followers were able to take on an entire realm.
“Enchanted weapons are extremely difficult to regenerate from,
aren’t they?” she laughs, pressing her weapon deeper into his
body. “Not like it matter’s to you though, you don’t regenerate
like others.” The tendril of blood connects from her slashed
wrists, piercing where Silver-eyes heart would have been, where
he in possession of one.
Muttering words long lost to civilization underneath his
breath, another blast of energy hits her chest and forces her
back. With the tendril still in him, he rushes her, her blood
cutting through his body like acid.
With shock in her eyes, she brings her weapon up, just barely
managing to stop him as he collides with her tool of
destruction. He presses forward, his body cold as death. Quicker
than Syrina could have anticipated, the man juts his hand
forward, grabbing her face. With a single word, she is thrown
back in a massive blast of silver energy.
Hitting the ground with a sickening crash, she is engulfed in
rage, her power flowing through her body more than it ever has.
Syrina struggles to her feet. However, before she is able to
take a step, a massive man appears in front of her, his golden
eyes staring at her with glinting curiosity. He levels a sleek
golden handgun at her, a hard smile on his face.
“Congrats. You passed the test.”
“What the hell are you-” before she could finish his massive
steel-toed boot came crashing on her, plunging her world into
darkness.
The man with the golden eyes looks up, the silver eyed man
staring at him before collapsing inwards with a silver burst. As
he disappears, he reappears next to the golden eyed man.
“Did you have fun, Dmitri?” the massive man asks, his cloak
billowing in the breeze while a massive book lays strapped to
his back.
“It was interesting to see what would happen had no magic been
used, but alas, it was an impossibility. My form prevents me
from interacting physically with the world,” whispers Dmitri,
his soft voice, quiet, barely audible over the light breeze
dances across the air before scratching itself into the golden
eyed man‘s mind.
“You just need practice. But nevertheless, what shall we do
with her?” he jesters towards the fallen siren.
“She is a part of us now. I had adequate time to lay an anchor
in her. Bring her along,” Dmitri softly whispers before turning
around to face a man clad in white, “Do you concur Hiroshi?”
“I do. We can use all the help we can get right now,” he says.
His voice is light, flirting from one word to another almost
poetically. However, there is weight to his voice, a hardness
gained through centuries of fighting. Standing about five foot,
ten inches, his features are distinct, unique and his
personality is accented by his cool attitude. His snow white
eyes, blind but yet not, stare at Dmitri or rather, staring
through him towards the dying world around. His white hair is
lightly spiked downwards, giving him a youthful appearance
around twenty.
“So it’s settled then. Church, bring her.” With a wave of his
hand, Dmitri opens up a spiritual rift in space. Over eight feet
tall and six feet wide, the shimmering pool of glass oddly
reflects nothing, as though its very existence is denied to its
surroundings.
Hefting Syrina over his shoulder, Church enters the mirror-like
portal. Hiroshi follows in step. Dmitri glances over his
shoulder one last time, looking at the area. The blood column
was sustained by her magic, but no more. The ground glints a
lovely red, a lake of blood reflected by a sun of decay. Closing
his eyes, Dmitri faces the portal and steps into it,
disappearing from this world forever.
#Post#: 2784--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Foundation
By: Dmitri Date: May 22, 2012, 1:01 am
---------------------------------------------------------
--------
Chapter 2
--------
Eternity. The name given to a realm so beautiful, so
breathtaking, that time itself cannot touch it. A deep blue sky
sweeps overhead, while the lush emerald ground underneath spans
as far as any eye can see, or any life can travel. Forests dot
the land, filled with every kind of tree imaginable; everything
from pine trees to willow trees help add to the diversity.
Within a massive valley surrounded by sky scraping mountains, a
mysterious shiny mirror rips open upon the surface of the air.
The looking glass ripples the same way water reacts when a tear
drops into it. It is perfectly flat and so thin that it cannot
be seen when looked at from the side. Suddenly, without warning,
a figure emerges, clad in white robes, moving to the side
quicker than the eye can catch to make room. A split moment
after he leaves the mirror, a second figure appears with a
female draped over his shoulder. He glances to the empty spot
near the white robed man, and stands beside him, his golden eyes
staring at the portal. After a perceived second of passed time,
a third man leaves the mirror, and as his feet touch the ground,
the mirror blinks out of existence behind him. With his head
tilted to the side, his silver hair gently covering his eyes, he
gazes upon the unconscious female.
“You can put her down now, Church,” he whispers to the golden
eyed man. With a grunt, Church drops her at his feet, her body
hitting the ground with a sickening thump. As her skin touches
the ground, a silver circle appears around her, an intricate
pattern forming on the inside, before flashing brightly and
burning into the ground.
Not a moment too soon is the barrier erected, as the woman
opens her eyes. Sitting up, she looks at the three men around
her before laughing.
“Great, I managed to become captured by the motliest crew I
have ever seen,” she spits. The light beauty her voice holds is
as terrifying as the hatred seeping into her voice. She smiles,
a bitter smirk against her captors.
“If oblivion is what you prefer, then I would be more than
willing to humor you. However, allow us to remain civil. My name
is Hiroshi,” the tall, white robbed man states with a smirk on
his face. His blue eyes drill into her, studying her every
facial expression.
“I do believe I should, explain.” the silver haired man says,
his silver eyes down cast. With an unsettling smile, he lowers
his body as to sit on a chair. Suddenly, twisting out of the
ground, bones jut below him, weaving into each other, strand by
strand. As he makes contact with the bones, they stop growing.
His ominous black throne of bones are filled with extremely
sharp tips which form the ends of the bones, making it appear
brutal, yet eloquent. Resting his arms on the newly formed arm
rests on either side of him; he stares at his prize, a small
smile spreading across his lips, “My name is Dmitri. I am your
new master as I have chosen you to become a part of The
Foundation. We are dedicated to preservation of power, to making
sure that other interesting individuals such as yourself does
not try to exert power over our domain. Will you join us? Or be
destroyed?”
Still sitting, Syrina’s wrists open up slightly, a steady
trickle of crimson blood pouring over her hands and onto the
ground. As the blood hits the seal, it slides forward from her
towards Dmitri. However, the blood stops flowing for a few
moments, red energy crackling into the crimson liquid.
“Death for you,” Syrina mutters, her eyes staring at Dmitri’s.
With a snap of her fingers, two ruby red tendrils fire from the
blood pooled around her faster than the eye can track.
Small flashes of silver light illuminate the edge of the
circle, stopping the tendrils. Syrina screams, smaller tendrils
wrap around the two main ones before making contact with the
barrier. As the smaller tendrils touch the illuminated air, they
spin, drilling into the barrier.
“Impressive. Her blood magic is more powerful than I initially
thought,” mutters Dmitri, his eyes showing more interest than he
cares to admit. His body tingles for the barrier draws its
energy directly from him. Suddenly, he winces at the sudden
increase of energy leaving his body.
“Dmitri!” a voice yells out. Before Dmitri can rise from his
thrown, his barrier cracks. Dmitri laughs as his barrier breaks
before his eyes, the pieces falling away like broken glass. With
a loud bang, the barrier breaks, releasing multiple shock waves
of silver energy. The silver mist erupts violently, the ground
beneath smoldering before turning to glass. Throwing his right
hand up, Dmitri bends the expended energy around him before
absorbing it completely.
Glancing to the left, Dmitri sees Church kneeling onto one
knee, a spherical barrier of words and numbers surrounding him.
Although his black messy hair covers his eyes, Dmitri could
still see the gold shine through. On his back, his book glows a
soft golden hue. Dmitri reaches out with his mind, feeing the
book radiate energy, strengthening Church’s barrier. “I hate
that book,” Dmitri thinks.
Looking to the right, Dmitri observes Hiroshi standing exactly
where he was, not moved an inch as the shockwave rolls across
his body. Looking a tad bit closer however, Dmitri sees the air
shimmer around him, Hiroshi’s compressed energy skin tight on
his body. Hiroshi looks over toward Dmitri before nodding his
head and completely disappearing. Teleportation, Hiroshi’s
unique ability. Able to flit in the space in-between space, he
can travel anywhere he sees or any place from his memory
instantly.
With a yell, Syrina rushes from the ruined barrier, her weapon
raised overhead to strike Dmitri down. Swinging the blade full
force, she stops in midstroke, her mouth agape. Looking down, a
sword crafted seemingly of pure light is impaled through her
body. The tip of the light blade points downwards, piercing
through her back and out her chest. A split second later another
blade pierces her body, then another. Staggering backwards,
three blades protruding from her body, Syrina turns around
painfully.
Standing a mere four yards from her, she gazes at the one known
as Hiroshi. He smiles calmly, his white eyes cold and
calculating. Shaking his head in dismay he yells out, “you
really shouldn’t turn your back to a Reaver blood witch.”
As the words reach her ears, a silver blast rips through her
body, the blades of light amplifying the destructive waves of
energy through her body, dispelling her manifested magic. Her
scream are quickly cut short though, as Dmitri’s magic rips
apart her insides.
Dropping to the ground on her hands and knees, crimson blood
dripping from her mouth, she moans in ecstasy as her pain is
turned to pleasure. Looking up, she stares at the three before
her. Her eyes narrow for her body is racked with both pain and
pleasure (it could have been both, or it could have been
neither. No way for her to ever tell the difference.). With a
scream, her blood bursts from her wounds and surrounds her,
before being absorbed into her skin again, leaving no visible
wounds.
Standing up shakily, Syrina regains her footing despite her the
pain that her regeneration caused. Moving her right hand to her
left wrist, she slides two fingers against the bloody slit. Her
eyes roll back as the pain washing over her turns into pleasure
and her legs tremble, threatening to collapse. With a sigh, she
slides her bloody fingers out of her gash, and points her
fingers toward Dmitri.
Tilting his head to the side, Dmitri feels the energy around
her begin to swell up. Ready to strike her down with a death
spell, he stops, a presence in the back of his mind enveloping
his thoughts and drowning his intentions. It feels as though
his mind is being split apart, the cold presence ripping through
his thoughts before it just IS. A multivoice chorus rings out, a
chorus of chaotic order, “Do not strike her down just yet. Give
her a chance, she may prove to be…useful.” as each word forms in
his mind, the last disappears. Every word feels black, burned,
the presence spitting it out venomously.
Bringing his concentration back to the situation at hand,
Dmitri gazes at Syrina as she kneels unto one knee, her bloody
fingers pressed against her lips.
“I, Syrina, the Siren of Slaughter, hereby pledge my allegiance
to The Foundation. I am yours to command, Dmitri, I am a weapon.
Use me as you will, I enjoy carnage,” she calmly states, an
unnaturally large smile spreading over her face.
“Congratulations Syrina. Your power and speed is impressive,
and yet I see that you haven’t even begun to show me what you
can do.” Dmitri whispers, his eyes boring into hers. A striking
silver upon red.
“Do not flatter me Reaver, I am beyond you. Also you will do
best if you do not believe that I am doing this because I am
afraid of you and your little freak show you have. I am simply
bored, and I am sure that you will all be so very entertaining,”
she states very matter of fact, her eyes darting from Dmitri, to
Hiroshi, to Church.
With a smile, Dmitri looks at Hiroshi, before looking back at
Syrina.
“Church, brief her. She is now Foundation, so treat her as
such”, whispers Dmitri, before turning and walking away. Church
nods, his arms crossed and golden eyes glowing with
anticipation. Hiroshi turns and follows Dmitri, his white robe
fluttering in the breeze. Without looking back, Dmitri throws a
small object over his shoulder, the red metal gleaming in the
caught sunlight. With a flick of her wrist, Syrina plucks the
small object out of the air before sliding it onto her finger.
It’s a ring, and it’s a perfect fit.
#Post#: 2786--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Foundation
By: Dmitri Date: May 22, 2012, 1:13 am
---------------------------------------------------------
Hey guys!! I hope you enjoyed Chapters 1 + 2 and the two short
stories from my collection! This is another, and I hope this
clarifies a few things! Enjoy!!
---
Ashes to Ashes
---
During countless violent centuries of living, boredom is a
problem I never had to face. How could existence grow dull when
thousands of pathetic meat puppets vie for power and are
willing to give up anything to attain it? This is where I come
in. I am a demon. Not just any demon, no, but a blood demon. A
demon whose power is related to the very thing meat puppets need
to live.
Years have gone by, and my last flesh being was just killed by
my hand. Eviscerated. It happens in all contracts; a weak one
will strike a deal with me for more power, I give it, and when
they have achieved what they wished, I ruthlessly cut them down.
Boom, no more. Goodbye. Adios. Avidizang. .
Then, the red dawn approached. I know you are no demon, so I
will be sure to clarify certain things for your kind. A red dawn
is when a human summons a blood demon, it’s the dawn of a new
birth for us, the red symbolizing our strength through blood. I
was being summoned. For what purpose? I knew it all to well. If
only I hadn’t become so fucking careless.
She called for me, beyond what humans would consider “reality”
and from what many would consider “hell”. She beckoned and like
a trained dog, I came to my new master. And as I exited from the
body that was offered as my portal, ripping apart the meat
puppet that was sacrificed for my coming, I saw her. Ruby red
hair and crimson eyes, the look of a seductress, the look of a
witch.
As my power swelled around her and what I presumed to be her
acolytes, I took form from the blood of the unfortunate I burst
from. From my new “back” I summon forth magnificent wings made
from the tainted blood of my creation. I shape myself, my wings
expanding, my face contorting and twisting before taking shape
and image. I am both beautiful and terrifying to behold.
She smiles, a soft caressing smile that for some reason, mars
her eloquent face. A smile that makes even I, a blood demon,
shudder on the inside. That feeling, the distinct feeling. Fear.
Something I had not felt in centuries.
I step forth from the destroyed body. My bloodied feet touch
the ground, the boiling blood sizzling as it hits the dirt. My
wings fold inward, hiding behind my massive, yet slender body.
Something feels off, but I don’t know what it is. I speak -
“Behold, my glory. All that I am, you may become. My power, can
be yours, for a price. Is this not why you called me?”
“Lo! Demon, I have brought you here to speak and hopefully
strike a deal. My name is Syrina and my power is beyond compare.
I wish to offer thee a deal, a deal that you would be very
foolish to deny.” She tilts her head, her eerie smile never
leaving her face. Her voice is soft, yet beneath the feigned
innocents, a diabolic edge lies.
“A deal. What is it then, meat puppet, if the deal is so
terrible you must threaten me to accept? Your power is no more
to me than an ant is to you. No matter how powerful any of you
become, you are still but food for me. What is stopping me from
simply cutting you down now and taking your soul?”
She gazes at me, her eyes boring into mine. I stare at her,
reaching out with my mind to touch hers, only to find that I
can’t. I can’t feel her. I snarl and plunge my energy into the
earth below me. Just as I thought, a sealing spell.
“Oh demon, you gaze upon me, yet you do not see me for what I
am. Allow me to say this, I would like to own you. Give me your
being and I shall let you live a little longer, if it is to my
amusement,” she softly says in a songlike voice. Her red robe
flutters in a slight breeze, revealing her naked body underneath
that would be attractive to mortals, where it not covered with
cuts of all shapes and sizes.
I grin, my mouth stretching unnaturally wide revealing dozens
of razor teeth. With an explosion of blood, claws erupt from my
fingertips, long serrated claws that look as though they can cut
the air itself. I take a step forward with every intent to kill
this one and her followers.
She gazes at me before reaching into her jacket. I know I
mustn’t give this witch the chance to strike me for I must hit
her first, destroy her with my claws as I unleash a spell that
will destroy her followers as well. I rush, cutting through the
barrier that holds me. Two of her acolytes step in front of me,
their hands pointed outward as they chant in that pathetic
language of theirs.
I rip through both of them without even pausing, separating the
older ones head from his body and the younger ones upper body
from his lower. Their blood spills from their bodies but before
it hits the ground, it flows through the air and into me. My
blood. My power.
I thrust my claws at her chest. I see her eyes. I see,
amusement. Faster than any meat puppet I have ever encountered,
she pulls out a thin piece of paper with strange otherworldly
runes etched across it in blood of innocents. I shriek as my
claws make contact with it, and flow into it. Within just a few
seconds, my body, my powerful, glorious body, is sealed.
The sutra bleeds completely red, a soft glow escapes it as I
strike against my prison, utilizing every ounce of magic I have
to break out. No avail. I am stuck, watching from the parchment
the world outside.
I see her extend her arms, and her sleeves falling away, her
wrists splitting open in a bloody mess. The cuts extend from
each wrist through her forearms; the blood spilling like warm
rain on a cool summer night. She drenches me in her own blood,
her magick absorbing into the sutra, her mind pressing against
mine. What is she?
Opening her mouth, Syrina dangles me above her all devouring
maw. I am helpless, trapped. How could I have been so stupid and
careless? I gaze at her, and I know, the sutra is dissolving
into ash, landing on her tongue and becoming blood. My blood
with hers.
As I enter her body, I feel her soul pressing against me. The
power. She has done this before. The sutra that held me, it was
made of others. Other demons and powerful mages. She wanted ME.
She knew what I was, she knew who I was. I feel her soul wrap
around mine, forcing me into a bubble so my consciousness can
remain separate.
As her blood runs through me, and mine runs through her, I
know. She was the little girl I spared because the joy and awe
she showed after I slaughtered her family. She was the girl that
other AiZet, blood demons, warn each other about. She was the
leader of the Endless, and I am now her prisoner. Her own
personal demon. I hear her speak. -
“Vanin, how I waited for this. I knew you would forget about
me. A couple centuries and I am nothing but a distant memory.
Well now you are mine, and your survival depends solely upon my
survival. You will give me your power, lest we both shall
perish. Mutual need. This world is changing, my dear, sweet
Vanin. Had I not saved you, you would have been destroyed
eventually. Think of this as our new beginning, our red dawn.”
I am paralyzed within her. I feel my blood tainting hers,
giving her more power than any other meat puppet I have ever
consorted with. Anger grips me. I am tempted to lash out at her
soul, but logic dictates, were she to be destroyed, I would be
as well. As great and terrible my anger is, it is quickly
overcome with fear and trepidation. She knows something so
personal, something impossible to know, I cannot help but to
dread the future.
She knows my name.
#Post#: 2788--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Foundation
By: Dmitri Date: May 23, 2012, 12:50 am
---------------------------------------------------------
--------
Chapter 3
--------
“So, that was how you were captured eh? Seems a bit too easy,
and there was not very much bloodshed. At least, none that you
didn’t cause from your…special situation,” jokes a young man,
his light blue eyes take flitting from one person to the other
before finally resting on the crimson siren before him. His
black hair sweeps to the side, spiked slightly giving it an
anime-like look.
“It’s true Acuzio and you know it,” she growls back at him, her
red eyes illuminating threateningly. The blood witch leans
against a massive tree. The hard bark is marred with the slash
marks of many different types of weapons but yet the tree still
stands.
“Hey hey, this is no time to be touché,” Acuzio jokes, his
hands held in front of him comically. His trench coat ripples as
the wind hits it. He laughs, a light sound dancing in the air
and almost succeeding in calming Syrina’s demeanor. “But
seriously, very few of us actually joined The Foundation to just
join it. Out of thirteen, you would have expected one of us to
do this for none selfish reasons, like me!”
“And being accepted into an organization for the sole purpose
of fun isn’t selfish Acuzio? Seriously, you can be rather dense
sometimes. Besides, how would you like the story of how you were
captured to be brought up,” asks a rather annoyed woman. Her
platinum blond hair lowers to near the middle of her shoulder
blades, her bangs slightly covering her eyes. Her light,
songlike voice carries authority, yet Acuzio either does not
notice the annoyance in her voice, or just chooses to ignore it.
“You know, you don’t need to bring that up Renata. You won cuz
you took me by surprise! So come on, don’t get like that!”
Acuzio whines before crossing his arms.
Ren tilts her head to the side, her hair covering her
astonishing violet eyes which are cracked like broken glass.
She sighs, unable to believe that this individual is a part of
The Foundation. “He is much to bright and cheery, yet the power
he holds is unnerving. I guess he truly is a soldier,. She
thinks to herself, her black painted nails tapping against her
knee.
“Quiet down. We may be expecting some company soon,” calmly
states Church, his strong voice chastising the others. “and for
the record Acuzio, you lost that fight fairly. At least, as fair
as a Foundation fight can become. We should stay alert however,
the other eight should be making it to our rendezvous soon.”
“Meo-kri eio! Lov ea beetaaa,” mutters the man near the edge of
the encampment. His shaggy, unkempt hair covers his bloodshot
eyes almost completely. While originally a soft shade of grey,
after a long time without sleep, or blinking for that matter,
his eyes became red and have suffered from ruptured blood
vessels. He struggles to stand, his balance almost nonexistent
as he wobbles back and forth, his arms strapped to his chest due
to a straight jacket which ripples like water.
“What is it SJ? Something coming that we can’t sense?” asks
Ren, her light voice actually exhibiting quite a bit of patience
and understanding. Church lowers his hand into his coat,
gripping onto one of his high caliber psionic handguns. Acuzio
stands, his eyes cold and calculating as a brilliant staff
manifests into his hands tipped with a beautiful curved blade.
Syrina readies her magic, prepared to lash out with a spell if
need be.
SJ glances at her for a moment before turning back North.
Opening his mouth, revealing bloody and mangled teeth, he
screeches; unstable purple energy being released in waves before
solidifying into a single coherent beam. The beam slices through
the surrounding forest like a chainsaw through butter and as the
last of the energy leaves the air, the vibration left behind
causes adverse effects on sentient life.
Luckily, as the beam was loosed upon the world, Church managed
to erect a barrier of protection over the group, dispelling the
insanity effect SJ has on all thinking creatures. Syrina blinks
a couple of times, trying to clear her head of what sounded like
static. SJ laughs and it sounds like sandpaper against
limestone.
“You have to stop –.” Before Church can finish his sentence, a
pair of black hands burst from the ground under him and pull him
down…
-----
“Where the hell did Church go?” yells Syrina as she slices
through the demons which burst from the ground. Bulging with
muscle and sporting claws sharp enough to slice through steel, a
swarm of Riviks attacked the small Foundation group.
As Syrina finished decapitating a Rivik, a blur of claws slash
into her from behind. As the claws sank into her body, she
flowed her blood outward around the claws and hardened the
crimson liquid around them. “Ren, a little help?” Syrina calls
out as yet another RIvik rushes her from the front, its massive
jaws filled with jagged teeth.
Ren turned towards Syrina, finished dispatching a particularly
vicious Rivik and threw her hand forward. Beneath the Rivik
behind Syrina, a black vortex swirls, swirling faster and faster
before spiraling into the air, ripping the Rivik apart with a
mass of deadly shadows. Stumbling forward, Syrina prepares to
attack the charging demon head on, but before she could even
mutter a spell, the Rivik stumbles over itself and skids across
the ground.
Jumping out of the way, Syrina sees the cause of the agony of
the demon. SJ, using straps from his straight jacket to connect
himself onto the Rivik, munches away at its spine. SJ grins as
the demons blood runs down his lips, his razor sharp teeth
slicing through muscle, bone, and flesh. The Rivik thrashes
underneath, its sanity being eroded away as SJ’s madness starts
to take over. The last thing it sees is SJ’s teeth as they come
crashing down on its eye…
---
Church fires his weapon downward, blowing holes in whatever is
foolish enough to attack him. However, for each shot he fires
and each life he is sure he took, more and more hands claw him
downward.
Suddenly, Church drops down on the hard cavern below. The Riviks
claw at him in a frenzy, their instincts crying out for blood.
While the mass of demons surround him and claw at his body,
Church manages to reach his second gun. With a curse, four loud
booms echo in the cave, effectively removing the heads off the
tallest Riviks.
Surprised, they back up, eyeing him carefully. Church yawns, his
body not even scratched. “You cannot fight me physically. I’m a
tank,” Church says with a grin before leveling both of his guns
at the biggest in the group. “So, whose first?”
The forty Riviks screech in unison and rush the golden eyed
warrior…
---
Dozens of the dead demons lay around what was once the camp
site. Some are decapitated, stabbed through, shredded and more
than a few have teeth marks. Ren shakes her head in dismay.
While the battle only took but a couple minutes, it shouldn’t
have occurred anyways. RIviks are very good at identifying prey
and predator and Foundation members were definitely not the
prey. Something must have been hunting their natural food source
and forced them to attack.
“You think to much,” says Acuzio coolly before his staff
completely dissolves into his palm. He struts forward, the
orangish Rivik blood splattering his clothing.
“Or maybe you don’t think enough? Those Riviks weren’t going to
attack us, that’s why we weren’t prepared genius. Besides,
against all odds they decided to try and eat us. I blame this on
you and your uncanny ability to cause trouble,” Ren snaps, her
patience quickly wearing thin with Acuzio. His probability
manipulation was at times more of a hindrance than an asset, and
worse yet, he doesn’t know how to turn it off. Either really
good things happen to him or really bad things. No inbetweens.
“Will you two stop bickering? We need to get Church out of the
ground. I can barely reach him telepathically. He is easily more
than a mile deep. Maybe Ren, you should use your pen to blast
him out,” asks Syrina, her crimson eyes staring into Rens
shattered violet.
“We both know if I use The Pen then the energy expense would be
more than we can hide. It would be like shooting up a flare
saying here we are,” Ren counters. This was just going to be a
simple job and Acuzio had to…
“Wait! Maybe I can do something with my luck?” Acuzio asks.
Before either Ren or Syrina can answer though, black text flows
from the hole in which Church disappeared under. The text flows
faster and faster, before finally stopping in an intricate
pattern. A second passes, then another.
The text swirls in on itself, taking a three dimensional shape
of a man before starting to merge together, the letters and
numbers starting to become one. With a small flash of golden
light, Church takes form, both of his handguns still smoking
from the encounter down below and his trench coat ripped up.
“Took you long enough,” comments Acuzio, his eyes full of
mischief.
“Acuzio, shut up. That’s an order,” calmly states Church as his
handguns glow a bright gold before wrapping around his hands and
disappearing. “We are here to secure this area for the rest of
the Foundation. No more screwing around. We need this last
artifact.”
Both Ren and Syrina nod their heads simultaneously before
heading out in opposite directions in order to erect barriers.
SJ takes a step towards Syrina’s direction before turning around
towards Ren’s direction. Undecided, SJ face plants into a dead
Riviks corpse and begins to eat. Acuzio kneels on the ground,
channeling his energy into a small bag of talismans he brought
along.
The last Artifact is near and nothing will stop them from
acquiring it. Church closes his eyes, when suddenly he feels the
heavy presence of eight other individuals behind him. He turns
his head slightly as a hand clasps his shoulder. “And let the
games begin,” Church mutters before turning around completely.
#Post#: 2789--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Foundation
By: Dmitri Date: May 23, 2012, 1:03 am
---------------------------------------------------------
I would like to thank everyone who has read the material I have
posted so far^^ I apologies over the paragraphing...this forum
seems to not like them >.>
But please! Feed back is appreciated. Tell me how much you love
the stories, or hell, how much you hate them. I would like to
think more than just two people are reading!!
#Post#: 2795--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Foundation
By: Ren Date: May 26, 2012, 8:39 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
its a nice start =] needs to flow a lil better between chapters
tho, but its no big thing
#Post#: 2805--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Foundation
By: Dmitri Date: May 26, 2012, 11:20 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
The Foundation – Beginnings outline
The Foundation is a massive fictional fantasy/action which holds
basis in many of the world’s religions. The Foundation that is
much more than simply a story. The Foundation itself is the name
of an organization comprised of thirteen special individuals.
This group consists of insane, sadistic, cannibalistic, soul
devouring entities…and they’re the good guys. The Foundation is
thrust into a world of combat and war, and in an effort to
preserve their own power, are forced to accept the burden of
protecting humanity.
The story is broke up into three main parts – Beginnings,
Continuation, and Endings. For the sake of readability and
comprehension, and in an effort to reduce the amount of
questions raised by the storyline itself, I will only focus on
Beginnings.
Beginnings starts off with a confrontation between the blood
witch Syrina and the future leader of The Foundation, Dmitri.
While the scuffle took only a few moments, Dmitri comes out on
top and the blood witch is thus recruited. However, the
introduction is merely a flashback of how Syrina became
recruited with The Foundation in the first place. Throughout the
story, each Foundation character will be explored with more
depth and the reader will be able to understand how that certain
person came to be within the most dangerous group in existence.
The back story of each character will be elaborated upon, as
will the motives of the characters.
As the story progresses, The Foundation is thrust into a fight
far bigger than any of them could have anticipated. The
Foundation, to preserve their rule, is on a quest to gather
seven enigmatic items known as Artifacts. These artifacts were
created when the Absolute (the God-form, creator of the
Multiverse) willed existence into beings. These artifacts hold
massive influence over the fabric of both reality and unreality:
each holding different power over different universal constants.
Thus, with the amount of power than each Artifact has and each
is a link to the Absolute itself, The Foundation desires to
secure these great pieces of manifested power and they only lack
one artifact.
However, disaster strikes the future, unsuspecting hero’s when
the Last Artifact they retrieve turns out not to be an Absolute
Artifact. Instead, the item they retrieved was a seal break, a
break to the seal which held the Grigori, the Tenth Choir of
Angels who taught man forbidden secrets as described in the Book
of Enoch. Unexpectedly, The Foundation is thrust into conflict
with the former “Watchers,” and the mysterious individual known
as Legion (an Archon, a left over from creation which desires
more power than an Archaic being [which are guardians of
existence created from the will of the Absolute] or the Absolute
and desires to usurp the Absolute from what it assumes to be a
thrown).
The book will speed up tenfold here and the action will increase
even more. The Grigori being released presents a major obstacle
for The Foundation and ultimately, very bloody encounters occur.
The Grigori presents a major issue with the leader of the
Foundation, Dmitri, on the account that within his body, he
holds the Seraphim Nihilus (later revealed to be Azazel) sealed
within him, the former leader of Watchers. When the story began,
one is presented with the story that Nihilus was betrayed by the
other Grigori and sealed him away, making him the good guy. When
in reality, it was Nihilus himself that betrayed the others in
an attempt at gaining greater power through the devouring of
human souls he was tasked with protecting.
Luckily, when the Grigori were released, only the six High
Generals made it out before the seal was reinforced from
Foundation member Leona. While each powerful and great in their
own right, one by one each is devoured by Nihilus, adding more
and more power to his ability’s and thus, Dmitri’s. When the
lost information from the other “Lords” is gathered, the
location of the last Artifact is revealed; the universe known as
Hell.
Until this part of the story occurs, the majority of this book
will take place in location known as “Eternity” which will later
be revealed to be Eden. Eternity is unique as time does not flow
and it simultaneously connected to every universe in existence.
Whoever controls Eternity controls travel between worlds. These
natural portals (Looking Glasses) require constant monitoring,
making it necessary for the Foundation to deploy massive ground
forces known as “TEK’S (Technologically Encased Killers)”. TEKS
are the most advanced fighting units known to man. Each TEK
soldier is encased in nearly impervious armor called Sabors,
complete with Dark Matter personal shields and AI’s which can
tap into and access a multiversal network of information known
as The Ambin. The TEKS monitor the flow of information and
energy within Eternity, all while trying to understand its
secrets and fighting wars to keep out intruders.
Eternity is the most beautiful land imaginable, sweeping
valleys, massive mountain ranges, oceans so great that one must
use light-speed vessels to cross in suitable amount of perceived
time. However, as the story progresses, Foundation help
territory in Eternity starts to diminish and die due to constant
conflict.
As the Foundation gathers its forces to retrieve the last
artifact, the Big Thirteen (the main characters) battle with
Legion once more. However, before a killing blow could land, he
is saved and extracted by a powerful and fast individual. TEK
ships pursue but not a trace remains of either Legion or the new
character.
In an epic climax, The Foundation rips a hole into hell itself,
and invades with thousands of spiritually infused TEKs. The
initial conflict was brutal, but quick, ending as a victory for
the Foundation. With the gates of hell under Foundation control
the Thirteen dive into the bowels of this universe. However, the
fallen angel Lucifer has decided to allow passage through his
prison. However, Hell itself does not appreciate outsiders and,
since Lucifer will not use his soldiers, creates its own
abominations, brought to life through malice and hate.
As the Foundation descends through the rings of Hell, they start
facing problems. The deeper they descend, the more the universe
rejects them and thus, their abilities start to nullify one by
one, resulting in their death. Nearly every Foundation member
falls, but to mourn them would be a waste. Eventually, only the
Triumvirate (the three leaders) of the Foundation (Dmitri,
Hiroshi, and Church) manages to make it to the center to the
last Artifact, The Key. Unable to retreat the way they came and
much too exhausted from the fighting, the Triumvirate are forced
to contemplate how to escape.
In a surprising turn of events, Lucifer appears before the
three, not to fight, but to make a deal. He will get them out as
long as he can leave Hell and through Eternity, go to any world
he desires. The Triumvirate agrees and, with an expulsion of
energy that few can match, Lucifer rips a hole through Hell
which leads back to Eternity. As the Triumvirate exit through
the door, they gather every ounce of energy left in their
reservoir and seal the doorway again, trapping the weakened
Lucifer inside. Betraying the betrayer in order to get what was
needed.
The Triumvirate, guided by the Key whom speaks to them through
emotion and memory, are guided through parts of Eden they have
never touched. Upon entering a beautiful clearing, a magnificent
tree is in the middle, and etched into the elegant bark, a
keyhole just is. Azazel, through Dmitri, suddenly understands
his task, and the task that was laid to them. One by one, they
all realize that they were simply pawns for the Absolute. Before
any of them could react however, the key dissolves into dust
before it dissolves into the key hole.
A pulse explodes outward, a wave of pure cleansing energy
greater than any ever before imaginable. The energy flows
through Eternity and through every universe connected. The
Foundation successful reversed the fall of man.
This is where I will end book one. Book two will take place
directly after this. If this outline was not in the right
format, I do apologize. This is the first time I sent in my
manuscript and, admittedly, I am quite excited for feedback. I
understand that this may not go into enough detail, so if the
reader of this will please use the information of the next page
to contact me, I will be most appreciative.
*****************************************************
DIR Next Page