Navick
31-10-2006, 02:56
Space
An endless void of scattering photons from stars young and old, clustering into galaxies, which clustered themselves into filaments, and those filaments weaved into walls of light, with vast quantities of insanity inducing nothingness between. Yet, as is true with life as we know it, that which exists at current in reality was at one point conceived.
When this point was, and where it occurred, is a mystery that has reduced all those who posit an answer, be it from secular or ecclesiastical viewpoints, to arguing within the confines of the paradoxes that neither episteme can resolve. This event did indeed occur at some point within the strings of time, and it did indeed take place in some location; that was no uncertainty. And from that point of either scientific explanation, or divine intervention, time as it is known began.
But what is time? It is both a unit of measure, and a realm independent of the spatial universe. Decaying existence into nothingness, while at the same time, locking away all information within its infinite tomes. Everything that happens is never truly forgotten, even if temporal minds lose all trace of an events existence within their own limited historical viewpoints. The lives of people, empires, and even the mighty, burning stars are not bound to the minds of the select few who find themselves lucky enough to witness the event. Something in time remembers, something in time knows, something in time is always watching, and something in time is always waiting.
What this something is, be it a singular entity or vast and immeasurable proportions, or plural in its existence and thus far less grand, is entirely unknown, even by that something. Yet, all beings temporal in nature have been aware of this entities essence since life as it is known, began. Death. That is its name.
In all facets of reality this force has acted; antithetical to life, to change, to existence. It seeks only to end that which has begun. From the lone individual to the mightiest empire spanning intergalactic swaths of the cosmos, all have sought salvation from this thing which none have ever come to know, and return to share their experience.
It has always been presumed that this thing which has spurred civilizations to seek transcendence either through the mind or spirit, had hitherto remained nothing more but an inevitability, something without emotion; malice or hatred of the living, instead just an impulse of order acting to bring an end to the chaos. Yet, presumption is the ultimate err of mortal thought, and once this fact is made aware to the mind, either through observation or epiphany, that one finds his or herself wishing that some things could be completely forgotten in times' endless annals.
The Sleeping Enemy
It sailed alone against the solar gales with awe-inspiring grace, without definite direction or destination this much could be reasonably inferred. Yet, there was intent in its movements, some force beyond detection of mortal means, pushed it into the system with stealth in mind.
It was a fortress, a fuse of Norman Romanesque and late Gothic architectural styles. Spires and towers of skeletal stone, pierce the sky with their bare forms; walls engraved with ornate carvings skulls stain every inch of its stony skin; cruel arches bleed gnarled thorns, while darkness of infinite volume encompass the vaulting. A common trait to every surface, though to a lesser degree: blackness tainting every portion of every surface.
These structures clustered into the imposing keep centermost of the space-borne island, standing over the rest of the constructed inhabitants with ominous eyes of wide-pane glass that played surreal tricks with any light that struck them, warping it into a light of impurity that offered no illumination wherever it struck, instead seeming to only cause the darkness to worsen. The largest and most prominent of these eyes belong located in a spire taller than all the rest, able to peer over the massive metal walls of gnashed engravings with unchecked ease.
These eyes watch over the empty cobblestone streets below, cutting sharply throughout the city of blasted stone. Snaking through deserted market place and quiet slum, around the abandoned cathedrals of great stature, and those dilapidated places of revelry that were now free of blasphemous song and dance. Aqueducts of design and geometry vexing to the most astute of architects, fed only dust to the waiting huts and palaces below, conquered by dried vines that clung to every surface with the ferocity only death may bring. A city that measured twenty kilometers in diameter, fit only for ghosts, who also could not be found here.
When this dark conglomeration of decay and malice came into being, was a question as open-ended as the aforementioned dilemma facing those who sought the answer to the origins of the universe. Where it came from, was a mystery of equal magnitude. All that could be known about the city, was that it was at one time glorious and rich, for none would build such a thing without capital to pay for it, and only civilized societies centuries old would be capable of understanding the intricacies of the architecture behind its construction. Something else that could be reasonably presumed that this empire which had built this fortification, was of extreme age; old before the first eon had ended to allow the passing of another.
The only other piece of knowledge that could be obtained from observation was that the city itself, and its inhabitants had met a grizzly end. Broken palisades and a smashed keep, as well as deep scares dancing upon the thick walls of strong metal alloy, acted as a testament of the ruthlessness in which the attackers had levied against the fortress and the people within, whose houses had been burned to shells of their former glory, and whose charred remains acted as tombstones scattered throughout the otherwise empty streets, an abhorrent mosaic of the chaos and torture that dominated the city-folk’s final moments. Where the conquerors had gone, who they were, where the city had come from, how old it was, and why it was presently within a system of bustling inhabitant, were all mysteries that someone would soon solve.
Yet for now, solutions to ancient riddles could wait, for on the fortress-city, void of a cities soul, drifted through the void of space on a thick slab of obsidian, nearing the skies of a busy, and unsuspecting world.
An endless void of scattering photons from stars young and old, clustering into galaxies, which clustered themselves into filaments, and those filaments weaved into walls of light, with vast quantities of insanity inducing nothingness between. Yet, as is true with life as we know it, that which exists at current in reality was at one point conceived.
When this point was, and where it occurred, is a mystery that has reduced all those who posit an answer, be it from secular or ecclesiastical viewpoints, to arguing within the confines of the paradoxes that neither episteme can resolve. This event did indeed occur at some point within the strings of time, and it did indeed take place in some location; that was no uncertainty. And from that point of either scientific explanation, or divine intervention, time as it is known began.
But what is time? It is both a unit of measure, and a realm independent of the spatial universe. Decaying existence into nothingness, while at the same time, locking away all information within its infinite tomes. Everything that happens is never truly forgotten, even if temporal minds lose all trace of an events existence within their own limited historical viewpoints. The lives of people, empires, and even the mighty, burning stars are not bound to the minds of the select few who find themselves lucky enough to witness the event. Something in time remembers, something in time knows, something in time is always watching, and something in time is always waiting.
What this something is, be it a singular entity or vast and immeasurable proportions, or plural in its existence and thus far less grand, is entirely unknown, even by that something. Yet, all beings temporal in nature have been aware of this entities essence since life as it is known, began. Death. That is its name.
In all facets of reality this force has acted; antithetical to life, to change, to existence. It seeks only to end that which has begun. From the lone individual to the mightiest empire spanning intergalactic swaths of the cosmos, all have sought salvation from this thing which none have ever come to know, and return to share their experience.
It has always been presumed that this thing which has spurred civilizations to seek transcendence either through the mind or spirit, had hitherto remained nothing more but an inevitability, something without emotion; malice or hatred of the living, instead just an impulse of order acting to bring an end to the chaos. Yet, presumption is the ultimate err of mortal thought, and once this fact is made aware to the mind, either through observation or epiphany, that one finds his or herself wishing that some things could be completely forgotten in times' endless annals.
The Sleeping Enemy
It sailed alone against the solar gales with awe-inspiring grace, without definite direction or destination this much could be reasonably inferred. Yet, there was intent in its movements, some force beyond detection of mortal means, pushed it into the system with stealth in mind.
It was a fortress, a fuse of Norman Romanesque and late Gothic architectural styles. Spires and towers of skeletal stone, pierce the sky with their bare forms; walls engraved with ornate carvings skulls stain every inch of its stony skin; cruel arches bleed gnarled thorns, while darkness of infinite volume encompass the vaulting. A common trait to every surface, though to a lesser degree: blackness tainting every portion of every surface.
These structures clustered into the imposing keep centermost of the space-borne island, standing over the rest of the constructed inhabitants with ominous eyes of wide-pane glass that played surreal tricks with any light that struck them, warping it into a light of impurity that offered no illumination wherever it struck, instead seeming to only cause the darkness to worsen. The largest and most prominent of these eyes belong located in a spire taller than all the rest, able to peer over the massive metal walls of gnashed engravings with unchecked ease.
These eyes watch over the empty cobblestone streets below, cutting sharply throughout the city of blasted stone. Snaking through deserted market place and quiet slum, around the abandoned cathedrals of great stature, and those dilapidated places of revelry that were now free of blasphemous song and dance. Aqueducts of design and geometry vexing to the most astute of architects, fed only dust to the waiting huts and palaces below, conquered by dried vines that clung to every surface with the ferocity only death may bring. A city that measured twenty kilometers in diameter, fit only for ghosts, who also could not be found here.
When this dark conglomeration of decay and malice came into being, was a question as open-ended as the aforementioned dilemma facing those who sought the answer to the origins of the universe. Where it came from, was a mystery of equal magnitude. All that could be known about the city, was that it was at one time glorious and rich, for none would build such a thing without capital to pay for it, and only civilized societies centuries old would be capable of understanding the intricacies of the architecture behind its construction. Something else that could be reasonably presumed that this empire which had built this fortification, was of extreme age; old before the first eon had ended to allow the passing of another.
The only other piece of knowledge that could be obtained from observation was that the city itself, and its inhabitants had met a grizzly end. Broken palisades and a smashed keep, as well as deep scares dancing upon the thick walls of strong metal alloy, acted as a testament of the ruthlessness in which the attackers had levied against the fortress and the people within, whose houses had been burned to shells of their former glory, and whose charred remains acted as tombstones scattered throughout the otherwise empty streets, an abhorrent mosaic of the chaos and torture that dominated the city-folk’s final moments. Where the conquerors had gone, who they were, where the city had come from, how old it was, and why it was presently within a system of bustling inhabitant, were all mysteries that someone would soon solve.
Yet for now, solutions to ancient riddles could wait, for on the fortress-city, void of a cities soul, drifted through the void of space on a thick slab of obsidian, nearing the skies of a busy, and unsuspecting world.