NationStates Jolt Archive

The flickering television sat watching over the empty room; the figures on the screen talking to nothing at all.

'...on the street is that this same dream is being had by thousands of people each night. Paranormal scientists claim that this is being caused by the strangle lights seen in the skies, but health officials have said it's simply coincidence. This still doesn't explain the strange lights seen over major cities - the phenomenon now in it's fifth...'

----

"What in God's name is that?"

The two ranch hands had been riding the fence line when they had come across the grisly remains of something. Manuel had leapt from his horse first to take a close look - now he was recoiling in horror. What they had first thought to be a cow attacked by a wild animal was definately something else.

Manuel fumbled for his cell phone as Juan glanced around the clearing. His eyes were frantic as he searched for what had done this as his hand strayed to the pistol on his saddle. Manuel swore as he dialed - Juan could hear him try to dial three times before his fingers found the right numbers in the semi-darkness.

----

The beam of the flashlight swung back and forth across the grating as the night watchman wandered the corridors of the refinery on his nightly patrol. His boots clanked on the metal grating as he crossed from one section of the refinery to the next, flashlight casting odd shadows on the ground below as it shone through the grate. Looking upward he watched as the odd lights that had been seen over Porto Yello for the last few days danced around the sky.

One in particular caught his eye - it seemed to be coming closer and closer to the refinery. It would dodge about for a moment, zip closer, then stop amazingly quickly. Finally it seemed to come to rest right above the plant, and the guard could swear he could see the outline of something just beyond the light.

In the darkness behind him a clawed hand gripped a pipe for a moment before withdrawing into the darkness again...

----

"Anything?"

"Nothing - nothing at all."

The radar screen continued to sweep around and around, it's electronic eye struggling to find something, anything, about the strange lights that even now danced over the international airport on Trinidad. It was not the only eye looking skyward - on the neighboring El Hefe military base the specialized military radar installation swept the sky as well. It was picking up more, but not much more. The things were like birds - there was something there, but what?

----

Through channels diplomatic and covert enquiries went out - what were these things in the sky? Did their neighbors and allies know anything about them? Perhaps even who was responsible?

"Jack can I get your opinion on something here?"

The younger of the two men in the room turned towards the other. "What is it Vin?"

"We have a request from El Hefe for some information in regard to some strange sitings, they definately seem to be paranormal in nature, or perhaps extraterrestial. If they are extraterrestial though they don't seem to be behaving in a manner consistant with a first contact situation."

"Hmmm that sounds very interesting, mind if I look at some of the details?"

"No problem, this is what they have sent us" says Vin as he hands Jack the thin file of information they have received.

After taking a few minutes to read over the information Jack turns back to Vin.

"This is definately very interesting, I think this would be a great opportunity to collect some data, it's definately a curiosity. Do you think we could get a team together and the funding to go visit?"

"I think that would be likely, after all as you say, it's very interesting not to mention that El Hefe is one of our neighbors, at the least we could probably get one of us sent over there. Let's writeup a proposition and send it on up and see if the powers that be decide if it's a good idea"

(OOC: The Platonic government will fund a trip for Jack to investigate the phenomina and report back with details, the specifics would be left up to him. However if El Hefe deems it inappropriate the Platonic government may have other places those funds need to go ;-) )

#tagged...

"Squawk, Squawk Squawk!"
The chickens squealed, as they hastily retreated further inside the coop. It still pursued them. There was no escape. It was like when their eggs were taken, except worse. The tentacle lashed out, striking the nearest chicken like a whip and dragging backwards, still squawking into the mouth of the best. It slobbered some, and the chicken disappeared whole. The only remnants of the unfortunate beast was the sticky slobber and a couple of feathers.

There was a screech, and Jenkin's heard his son shouting to him.
"Pa! Pa!"
Jenkin's rushed out of his seat, and dashed outside, leaving the door straight open. There stood his son, a farmhand on his farm, mouth wide open in disbelief. There, in the coop were the feathers of the tasty, non-flying birds, usually known as Chickens. Jenkin's approached the coop, his son ahead with a torch. They squatted down, and Jenkin's son flashed around the torch abit.
"Wow Pa...Look at this stuff on the floor"
Mark, Jenkin's son picked up a stick, and poked some slobber on the coop floor. He pulled the stick away, and the slobber stuck to it, stretching like stuck chewing gum.
"What the hell is that?"
"I dunno Pa"
Jenkin's stood up, and looked around. The bush rustled. He backed away, calling to his son
"Cmon Marky boy. Lets get back in the house. We'll deal with this tommorow"
Mark followed him, and Jenkin's stayed outside for a bit. He scanned the bushes, the trees. Some more rustling.... nothing. He closed the door, and went back inside.

The pickup truck rumbled across the track, bouncing up and down. Jenkin's parked it, locked the truck, and with his newly-purchased 12 bore, and a good deal of catridges, went out into one of the empty fields. He set up a board, sticking it in the ground firmly, and knelt down at a fair distance. He aimed, slightly below and pulled the trigger. The wood flew backwards, splinters flying everywhere.

Anjela stood framed in the open doorway for a moment, the light from the hallway spilling into the bedroom. Her husband, Roberto, lay on his side under the covers asleep. Wind rustled the sheets and her eyes went to the open window.

'It's too cold in here to leave this open...' she thought as she walked over and looked out over the city. Their apartment was high on the 51st story of one of the dozen of skyscrapers that dominated the skyline. From here she could see the lights from the freeways and the other buildings - and of course the lights over the city that seemed ever-present now.

After a moment she shut the window and lay down on the bed, pulling the light blanket over her thin frame. In the silence she could hear the gurgle of Roberto's stomach - he should have eaten before he went to bed. Slapping a fly away from her head she tried to get to sleep. The fly was still there though and had been joined by another. There were a lot of them actually, but she pulled the sheet over her head and ignored them. As she finally nodded off she could stilll here Roberto's stomach gurgling.

----

Claws punched through the fleshy material of the eggs that had nursed them and into tissue and organ. A beak, still flexible and soft, extended from the egg and was followed by the tiny black shape inside. Organs tore and ripped apart as claws slicked and carved through them and moved the chunks of flesh to the franticaly gnashing maw.

Then there was something else beside it - something similar but it knew that there was only enough for the one - the strongest. Claws stabbed and the maw silently cried out as the still soft skin was torn apart by it's nestmate. A final stab and it lay still. Beside it another struggle was being played out as the half-dozen nestlings were winnowed down to one.

Jack read the letter twice before grinning in delight and calling back into the lab.

"Vin, I'm going to be allowed to go, and you will be on standby in case any extra assistance is necassary. It would be you but you got the last trip"

"Excellent, excellent, I have to say I'm a tad jealous Jack, but I did get the last trip, which was to Mars no less so I guess it is your turn. When do you leave?"

"According to this the flight leaves this evening, so I had better get packed and head to the shuttle port."

"Ok, be sure to keep in contact back here, I can run things throught he lab for you and keep you updated of any news on this side."

"Don't worry I'll keep you well in the loop." laughed Jack as he hurried out of the room.

Several hours later...

Jack mentally listed out everything he had packed and was about to leave the hous with, had he gotten everything... Yes he had but he still wasn't familiar with El Hefe's gun laws, he would have to ask at the airport, the customs agents there would almost certainly know. Jack hoped they would allow him to bring in his firearm, he had really hoped to do some shooting there if he had the chance.

Two hours later Jack arrived at the shuttleport several bags and ticket in hand. He went through the security screening with ease where he found out that firearms were legal in El Hefe though he would need to register it and take care of some other similar things.

Once Jack was on the shuttle he felt a fair amount of excitement with just a hint of trepidition as it took off on the 35 minute flight to El hefe.

Araion brushed his hands gently over Belethiliel’s shoulders, pushing the straps of her shift off, and watching as the silky fabric whispered down her body, revealing her naked form to his eyes.

His hands on her hips pulled her to him, the warmth of her smaller body compressing against him, yielding to his touch as he lowered his lips to hers, slightly open in anticipation as he kissed her. The world seemed to spin around them as they pressed naked flesh together on the edge of the eastern cliffs lining the Hidden Isle.

But before they went any further, or at the very least, as they sank down to the grassy bed, bodies lit by only their fire and stars, Araion broke away in confusion as bright lights began to dance very high up on the horizon. Belethiliel looked up startled, then almost angrily began to follow his gaze.

When she saw the lights, dancing in their pattern, she was at once as fascinated as her abortive lover. The lights flickered and swerved, and one suddenly blazed towards them faster then their merely human minds found barely conceivable. The blazing fury of the light scared them and Belethiliel shrank back against Araion, and he wrapped his arms around her protectively.

The light was getting closer, but no lower, but yet, something primitive snapped in Araion’s brain. He pushed Belethiliel towards the forest. “RUN!” he screamed, as he dived for the fire, snatching a burning brand out of the pile of wood, and turning around, staring at the light. “RUN!” he shouted back over his shoulder to Belethiliel, and then she vanished into the forest, fleeing from the fear coloring Araion’s voice…

* * * * *

The villagers came out the next morning, filtering out from the village, a small city really, outside of the massive fortress that dominated the island. Belethiliel saw him first, or what was left of him. Araion was burned to a crisp, blackened, charred flesh still smoking where it clung to his bones. They had never seen death, for they did not die, though they knew of it.

But his head was intact, completely and totally, his black eyes staring out lifelessly, his mouth hanging open. The fire smoked nearby, and the clothes rested where they had been dropped.

Belethiliel rushed forward and fell on her knees, her hands reaching out and touching his face, trying to close his eyes, as the tears flowed freely, dripping down to mix in the ashes.

* * * * *

They managed to carry what was left back to the village, where one man waited for them. Deeply tanned, hair and eyes black like their own, but yet, even darker, as if the light around them was being absorbed as well. His clothes seemed to match this, a cape sweeping around him like a cloud of night, his sword vanishing and reappearing on his belt.

They never saw him except armed, and always in the same black outfit. But his eyes blazed with anger as he saw the body. His voice was very quiet when he spoke. “What happened?”

The villagers did not know, and Belethiliel told all she could. But even that was not much. And so the man took off his cape, and draped it over Araion’s remains. When he pulled the cape away, Araion got up slowly, and the man in black spoke with him softly, before sending him back among the villagers.

Ainulindalion closed his eyes, then vanished on a breath of wind, leaving behind his island, traveling eastward, towards the source of the lights.

The phone rang.

An hour later it rang again.

For two days it rang sporadically with no response besides the slight vibration of the end table where the phone sat and the lamp beside it from the ringing of the phone itself. Neither could offer testamony to the blood that had flowed past the legs and pooled at a low point of the wall. It was dry now - there was only so much blood in the body and the flow down the stairs had stopped after only a couple hours.

----

Air whistled past cloth and metal as the battering ram swung forward. Wood cracked and splintered and sprayed all over the room beyond and clicked dully on the polished floor. Metal struck wood with a clunk as the doorknob smacked into the wall and shivered away. Rubber squalled on wood and thumped on carpet as the entry team rushed into the hallway beyond.

Ears perked and cloth rustled as chiton ticked on stone in the kitchen beyond and there was a long whining screetch that heralded the entrance of the creature. Lungs emptied as men gasped and there was the rapid pop of expanding gas and the sharp crack of jacketed lead breaking the sound barrier. Deformed bullets whinged off hardened plates and there was the soft meaty smack of lead striking home.

Then there were dozens of pops and the same high pitched shriek followed by a single solid thump as the creature hit the floor. The rapid breathing of the officers was audible once again as they searched the house for more of the creatures in a rush.

Ainulindalion crept through the darkness, his sword extended in front of him slightly, glowing a dull green from the presence of a threat nearby.

A soft chittering sound. A sound like a large insect moving over concrete, chitonous impacts on the ground. The immortal being froze, sword extended, listening, extending his feelings around him.

His island, his people had been attack. This was no longer a situation in which he was limited by his promise. This was a time in which he could use his full power. But he needed a target. And to get a target, he needed information, considerably more than he had.

Which was none.

The rush of sound behind him. He spun, the light and shadows shifting in the dark building, reflecting off of crates and boxes. A single step forward.

Another, and another. He was getting closer to the chittering now. There they were. Whatever they were. Giant insects perhaps. A feeling of wrongness washed over him, though when he saw them.

But what they were doing. There were people, at least, Ainulindalion thought they were people. They were strung up, some impaled on wooden stakes, others on metal poles. Some bleed from ripped open stomachs, the creatures feasting happily on their insides, drinking their blood.

Charred corpses rested in a pile in the corner, their heads all staring blankly, faces intact, and contorted in pain and horror.

The ticking sound behind him. He spun, the sword gleaming off hard carapace, multi-faceted eyes. He slashed as the creature rushed him, as it exploded into a fountain of gore, the head splitting open, spraying him in some gooey, thick liquid.

The other creatures looked up from whatever they were doing…

Balion spun back to face them, the slime coating him glowing pink in the light from his sword. They charged…

So did he…

* * * * *

By the time it was over, Ainulindalion’s black clothing was glowing pink in the dimming light of his sword, the enemies gone from being nearby. Thick, meaty globs of the nightmarish creatures were scattered throughout the warehouse.

But he had failed. There was no information to be gained here, except what new fears these creature spawned, what hatreds they aroused, what pains they caused.

His clothes resumed their original cleanliness, fading him into the darkness, a solid shadow nothing more. As he past through the creature’s den, the bodies and the injured, he healed them, one and all.

Perhaps they would be able to tell the authorities of this land something that would help them. But they were of no use to Ainulindalion in his quest for Vengeance.

Ainulindalion floated gently above the country its inhabitants called El Hefe. He maintained no physical form, presently, he was just floating, and considering.

His sword had worked on the creatures when he had found them hurting the humans, but…

But something. It had been quite a long time since he had killed anything, but it had been different this time. He usually felt something when he killed, the death leaving the body he struck down empty. Even animals felt that way.

But these creatures had not. That was wrong, for he could feel everything that was alive, everything around him, the living, breathing planet, the universe, in all its glory.

These creatures felt outside it. But that could not be. Had not everything been created y Eru, everything being the same at its fundamental level, even evil had its roots in love.

But… It was happening again. Maybe he could keep one alive this time…

The immortal crept through the darkened hallway, his hand resting on the blade on his belt, his sword readied for combat. He could hear the chittering sounds from up ahead, the whispering chatter of the creatures he was truly coming to loath. For one, they died messily, and two, apparently killed indiscriminately.

And they were spreading. Only the fact that his blade was driven by the power that ranged in his divine muscles and divine crafted was letting him survive. Even these creatures could overwhelm him, as fast and as accurately as he could move. Plus, his ability to manipulate reality seemed to matter little where these things would concerned.

A chilling scream sent a shiver running down his spine, as up ahead, a woman was tortured by something. Whatever these creatures were, they reveled in pain and chaos, in destruction and in death.

Yet, he had no cause, if it had not been of the attack on his people, he would not even be involved. Yet these things seemed not to care. Ainulindalion could discern no difference between individual members of the creature’s species, yet each group seemed a bit harder to kill, as if they were learning from the dead members of their kind. Which was impossible, wasn’t it?

The godling could feel no souls, no life force in the creatures, so there was not even a way for him to know if he really was killing them or not. They were more like animals, in that sense. Even still, though, he could feel animals die.

The blade rasped as he drew it, bringing it into a combat position. The chittering stopped and he froze. Never before had they attacked him before he managed to kill at least one of them. All he had had to rely on in the past was surprise, and his strength, speed, and experience. Now it looked as if his most important advantage was gone. He charged around the corner, blade coming up for the attack.

They were gone. He blinked, lowering his sword, and approached the woman who was bound against a packing crate of some kind. The fear in her eyes said she was sill alive, and he sighed in relief. Raising his own from the dead was one thing, raising other people was far different.

That was when the attack came, from behind, and to the left, just as he reached out to peel the ropes from the woman’s mouth. Distantly, he heard a scream as he was hit with the charging mass of one of the creatures, tearing the ground from under his feet as he hurdled through the air, landing on his back with his sword upright above him instinctively.

The creature did land atop him, its multilegged form cracking open like an egg as its weight impaled itself on his blade, the green ichor spurting out along the shining silver length, coating him. Another creature, sharp pointed legs slamming down through the air at his head as he was trapped under the bulk of the first. His head twisted sideways, chitin ringing against the floor as the legs landed on either side of his head.

Kicking up his knee, he flipped the creature atop him over his head, crashing it into his current attacker, pinning them both to the wall for a moment as he rolled to his feet, bright green coating him, shining wetly in the lights. Spinning, he leapt into the air, bringing the razor sharp blade down on a third creature, separating its head from its body, using its falling bulk as way to kick off.

Bouncing from the wall, he landed behind two of the giant creatures, trying to turn in a space too small for both of them. The blade flickered again, green blood flowed hotly, and the creatures died. But there were more, always more. Thirteen of them, always. Light flickered on a speeding blade and death was among them.

Hard shells were no protection for the great creatures, and soft underbellies, as the immortal slid on the blood slicked concrete. Flesh and chitin broke underneath the fury of the godling, and he killed and killed and killed, until there was nothing left but chunks of dismembered and dismantled creatures. Of those eight, not enough remained intact to fill a dinner plate.

He stood, a dark specter of death, breathing a little heavier than normal. Blood dripped from his hair, his clothing was torn and hanging about his form in shambles, his skin scratched but not broken, his eyes burning with a fire of excitement and pleasure. It was rare the godling got to exercise his full abilities.

Lifting the sword once more, Ainulindalion moved towards the woman, who shied away from him in fear, but as the blade flickered in the light once more, her binding ropes fell away and she collapsed to the ground, trembling, unable to move. He knelt, pulling a black blanket from midair, and after confirming she had no serious injuries, covered her naked form as a father might a child.

A small sound alerted him, a half remembered motion from the combat just ended. He came to his feet fluidly, spinning, the sword flashing out, arcing through the air, an avatar of projected fury. Guided either by some miracle of his subconscious mind or by divine luck (who was to say those were not really the same thing, when it came to him), it pinned the creature to the wall, shattering its ability to move, but not killing it instantly.

This was his first chance, his only chance so far, to be around a live one that was not attempting to kill him. He took it, tearing from its mind what it knew, what he needed to know. Not everything of course, for this creature was an underling, it would not know all.

But enough. He drew his sword out of it, and separating the creature from its head, vanished into thin air, leaving behind an unconscious woman, traumatized for a long time to come, and the remains of a dozen nightmares from beyond all imagining.

The darkness of a place of unexistence was imagined. Of course, unexistence was imagined as well, for Ainulindalion did exist.

And he existed in a place where nothing else could, a place of his own mind, consumed as it was by darkness. But his mind did not stay dark for long, instead it blazed with fire, with flames of anger.

These creatures were not creatures at all, but instead, manifestations of the darkest emotions of all sentients, their pain, their fear, their suffering. But it was more than that too. They were the avatars of those very feelings, as if those feelings themselves had sentience, had self.

Which was impossible, wasn’t it?

* * * * *

A scream shattered the night, then gunfire. Lots of gunfire. Staccato bursts of automatic weapons, the low boom of shotguns, the sharp report of pistols. More screams, these sounding less than human, rent the night air. Slowly, the sounds of gunfire died away.

Then there was silence. Utter, total silence.

A light rose from between the buildings, shimmering, flickering back and forth at roof height. Then the roof shattered, still silently, and the building collapsed in on itself. Screams of surprise, of fear, cut off with sickening suddenness as falling steel and concrete and glass impaled their victims.

Then came the chittering sound. The clicking of a million hard, pointed legs on concrete. A sound which brought fear before it like a wave.

There were no screams now. The people were beyond it, as those still living groaned with pain.

Another light shattered the darkness, and with it, the thwumping sound of a helicopters rotors. The police backup had arrived far too late. And the helicopter was far too slow to escape the light which darted towards it.

It began to turn, and then froze in midair, everything, including the rotors. The bubble cockpit shattered as a body was heaved through it, clothing shredded in the movement. Then the tortured screams began again as the policewoman’s flesh began to char and burn in the intensity of the light.

Her clothing ignited, her face frozen into a mask of fear as she hovered in midair, trapped by a power she could not know. Smoke rose from her skin, pouring out from her pores as inside the frail membrane, her flesh became molten carbon and oxygen, her body glowing as its meaty parts became of the same material as the sun, gleaming with plasma.

Then her skin burst, the burning cascade of colors only strengthening the light which held her remains in thrall.

The bones shattered when they hit the pavement, and the intact head rolled to a stop at Ainulindalion’s feet, blank eyes staring up at him accusingly. Why did you not intervene? they seemed to say to him.

He shook himself. He was imagining it. There were more of the creatures, the beasts, now. But they still moved in groups of thirteen.

The helicopter shattered another building when it fell, and the creatures advanced on it, seeking out those who were still living enough to be transformed.

Transformed into egg carriers, that was. To give birth to the horrors which now plagued them, their very fear and pain making the creatures stronger and more numerous. Death and fear and pain and suffering. Hatred and intolerance and all the dark things which made up the mind.

That fed them, helped them to grow, more and more of them every day.

But Ainulindalion had learned all he could from the beasts which wandered the ground, shattering bodies with their spawn and their claws, and he left the creatures to their horrid work, the screams of the dying echoing in, then ignored by, his ears.

He could not intervene. They were no threat to him or his people.

His next step took him airborne, and he advanced calmly towards the gleaming light which remained hovering over the scene.

He extended a hand and touched it, watching in fascination as the skin charred, then bubbled and boiled, finally exploding from his bones…

Painlessly.

And then it grew back.

He sensed the confusion from the light before him, and his mind stabbed at it, thrusting itself into the very portal that hovered before him, the only opening he had that small hesitation.

His avatar vanished, and single thought remained behind him, echoing to a tiny piece of this fragile reality. I’m sorry, love, but I may be gone longer than I planned. I shall be back as soon as I can.

No doubt the woman who read this would be saddened by the message, but she understood responsibility all too well.