Pero Diaz is a city of two, the Above and the Under. Few know about the Under, for the Esoteric Order Of Ataxia maintains a secret rule over it and interferes not with the Above. All in the Under obey the Order and they are not to be trifled with. The Above is the place where there is law and order and the Under can be compared to as a criminal underworld. There are six beings in the Order, each an embodiment of negative states.
"The Above's authorities are starting to get pissed off with our Under, how shall we educate them on these matters, hmm?" Kas asked.
Ana replied, "A quick spell? Or we could stage a famine by buying all grain and foodstock."
Dan said, "An ethereal jaunt spell on members of the government?"
Dis said, "Create an epidemic?"
Ero spoke up, "Screw up their logistics? Maybe take out the entire sewage system and place it in a pocket dimension. Then we could threaten them."
Mal simply kept quiet.
Kas pondered these suggestions.
"No, they wouldn't work. We can't let the Order become common knowledge. Mal, you didn't say anything. Any ideas?"
"Blackmail."
Everyone thought about it.
"I could probably incriminate them in the recent increase in drug dealing." Ana said, "But how can we convince them enough?"
Kas was, by this time, absolutely frustrated. "Look, we're the Esoteric Order Of Ataxia, I am Chaos, Ana's Anarchy, Dan is Dante, Dis is Disorder, Ero's entropy and Mal is Malevolent, we're the living embodiment of negative things, surely we can come up with something! I say we just go and threaten to return the Above to barbaric culture by means of non-government."
The Order murmured appreciatively.
-
The next day, the government continued about its activities and the phrase "Esoteric Order Of Ataxia" was never uttered again.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Snicker
-Unknown period of time before the events of Sneaky, the man John in this is an unknown ancestor of the man John in Sneaky-
"Mail, I wonder what junk I'm going to get today," muttered the man John, "I'm betting on advertisements for window glazing, it's a Tuesday today, must be window glazing."
"Let's see now, we've got electricity bill, magic tax, window glazing, there I knew it! Huh. What's this here?"
The man John held up a crinkly, stereotypical mysterious and interestingly, yellow envelope (the man John pronounces it as an-velope, not on-velope like the rest of us). People writing about crinkly, stereotypical mysterious yellow envelopes would probably attribute the yellow bit to age or something so cliched. The truth is, this envelope is yellow for the very simple fact that the mysterious sender probably had bad taste or horrible eyesight in choosing envelope colours. (Personally, I think its eyesight) I mean, who in their right minds would pick a bright yellow for an envelope? T'is such a wussy colour. Brown would be so much more manly.
Anyway, back to the story. The envelope had the man John's address and name written in very precise letters, almost as if they were printed. But we all know that its not printed because at that age, people never printed, though they had computers. They only printed photos. Unless this letter comes from the future. That would be a very cliched storyline.
But let us not digress so much. he opened up the crinkly, stereotypical mysterious yellow envelope and there was a sound like ghostly, mystical wind sweeping lightly through the air.
In the crinkly, stereotypical mysterious yellow envelope, there was a even more crinkly, positively cliched, downright anonymous pink letter. Man, the sender must have had really bad eyesight.
So, the letter said (Well, not actually said, just what the words on it were. A letter that speaks must be real spooky. I bet its voice would sound just like Morgan Freeman. The whole, Hi this is God here sort of thing),
Letter starts
"This is a letter. I am sure you could tell as it arrived from the mail. However, by opening this incredibly cliched envelope, and I assure you, it is pronounced on-velope, you have released a platitude which is a mystical ghost. By the way, he has schizophrenia *I'm not very sure if I spelled it right* and has quite a few personalities. He will take up permanent residence in your house and serve you and all your descendants that are to come. Below is a list of personalities so far encountered and character traits *and don't ask why they all start with an L except for one or two*:
Lysp - in charge and polite
Lymp - Indecisive
Lyke - rather genial
Slyp - Gives sleepy-head a new definition
Lyfe - rather existential
Lus - wanders a lot
Lyop - mostly reminds me of coral
Lyter - likes oranges and lemons
Lycon - will try to play poker with you and cheat
Lysen - very comforting, listens to problems
Lyar - loves to 'enhance' the truth
Lyne - A figure without depth; one lacking any sort of hidden meaning or interest. Shallow. Banal. Simplistic. Predictable - even painfully obvious. Overdone. Going in one direction, and not even a particularly interesting one at that. 'Nuff said."
Letter ends
"Huh. I've never seen such crap."
"That's true. I, for one, can't believe he left so many of us out." A disinterested voice spoke up.
"Whuh?" The man John looked around but saw no one.
"You can't see us, we're a ghost, remember?"
"That letter was true?"
"Yes. How very boring. Nice house. Must be nice, having such a boring place."
The man John looked for a return address. There was none. Ain't that just expected?
"Mail, I wonder what junk I'm going to get today," muttered the man John, "I'm betting on advertisements for window glazing, it's a Tuesday today, must be window glazing."
"Let's see now, we've got electricity bill, magic tax, window glazing, there I knew it! Huh. What's this here?"
The man John held up a crinkly, stereotypical mysterious and interestingly, yellow envelope (the man John pronounces it as an-velope, not on-velope like the rest of us). People writing about crinkly, stereotypical mysterious yellow envelopes would probably attribute the yellow bit to age or something so cliched. The truth is, this envelope is yellow for the very simple fact that the mysterious sender probably had bad taste or horrible eyesight in choosing envelope colours. (Personally, I think its eyesight) I mean, who in their right minds would pick a bright yellow for an envelope? T'is such a wussy colour. Brown would be so much more manly.
Anyway, back to the story. The envelope had the man John's address and name written in very precise letters, almost as if they were printed. But we all know that its not printed because at that age, people never printed, though they had computers. They only printed photos. Unless this letter comes from the future. That would be a very cliched storyline.
But let us not digress so much. he opened up the crinkly, stereotypical mysterious yellow envelope and there was a sound like ghostly, mystical wind sweeping lightly through the air.
In the crinkly, stereotypical mysterious yellow envelope, there was a even more crinkly, positively cliched, downright anonymous pink letter. Man, the sender must have had really bad eyesight.
So, the letter said (Well, not actually said, just what the words on it were. A letter that speaks must be real spooky. I bet its voice would sound just like Morgan Freeman. The whole, Hi this is God here sort of thing),
Letter starts
"This is a letter. I am sure you could tell as it arrived from the mail. However, by opening this incredibly cliched envelope, and I assure you, it is pronounced on-velope, you have released a platitude which is a mystical ghost. By the way, he has schizophrenia *I'm not very sure if I spelled it right* and has quite a few personalities. He will take up permanent residence in your house and serve you and all your descendants that are to come. Below is a list of personalities so far encountered and character traits *and don't ask why they all start with an L except for one or two*:
Lysp - in charge and polite
Lymp - Indecisive
Lyke - rather genial
Slyp - Gives sleepy-head a new definition
Lyfe - rather existential
Lus - wanders a lot
Lyop - mostly reminds me of coral
Lyter - likes oranges and lemons
Lycon - will try to play poker with you and cheat
Lysen - very comforting, listens to problems
Lyar - loves to 'enhance' the truth
Lyne - A figure without depth; one lacking any sort of hidden meaning or interest. Shallow. Banal. Simplistic. Predictable - even painfully obvious. Overdone. Going in one direction, and not even a particularly interesting one at that. 'Nuff said."
Letter ends
"Huh. I've never seen such crap."
"That's true. I, for one, can't believe he left so many of us out." A disinterested voice spoke up.
"Whuh?" The man John looked around but saw no one.
"You can't see us, we're a ghost, remember?"
"That letter was true?"
"Yes. How very boring. Nice house. Must be nice, having such a boring place."
The man John looked for a return address. There was none. Ain't that just expected?
Sneaky
"Good evening, sir." A disembodied voice rings out.
"Hello, Lyspe."
"I believe that I am currently Layt at the moment, sir."
"Ah. That would explain the sudden politeness."
"Oui oui, sir. How was your day today, mon ami?"
The man John started, "Well, it was kind of weird. First, there is a sudden and piercing sense of dramatism that befell me sometime during lunch, as if someone had fallen to his or her knees and yelled a largely dramatic 'Noooo'. Then, there was this guy whom I walked past in the street and his voice was abnormal. It was like multiple voices spoke at the same time. I quite liked his tattoo on the neck though."
"What sort of tattoo was it, mon ami, is I may ask?"
"Like a 'c', except with longer tails and a sharp cut originating from the top tail of the 'c' and cutting diagonally down to the right through the bottom tail."
"Ah, an AIDA." The voice whispers softly.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing, sir. Nothing of consequence. Nothing that would at all interest you. Nope. Not at all. Abosolutely nothing. It's just a man John."
"Which man John?"
"Forget I ever asked, sir."
The man John continued walking down his mansion.
"Layt?"
"I am Slyp now, friend."
"You change so fast I can hardly keep up."
"I do not change, it is our mind that takes its turn. I, however, am the same as I was since the last we talked."
"Not the point. Anyway, I just wanted to ask if you could help me do some research on this thing I heard. It's called the Braced Thread. I have no idea what it is. I overheard it from that man I mentioned. You know, the one with the tattoo."
Another whisper, "AIDA..."
"What?"
"I said nothing. I will search for it for you."
"Hello, Lyspe."
"I believe that I am currently Layt at the moment, sir."
"Ah. That would explain the sudden politeness."
"Oui oui, sir. How was your day today, mon ami?"
The man John started, "Well, it was kind of weird. First, there is a sudden and piercing sense of dramatism that befell me sometime during lunch, as if someone had fallen to his or her knees and yelled a largely dramatic 'Noooo'. Then, there was this guy whom I walked past in the street and his voice was abnormal. It was like multiple voices spoke at the same time. I quite liked his tattoo on the neck though."
"What sort of tattoo was it, mon ami, is I may ask?"
"Like a 'c', except with longer tails and a sharp cut originating from the top tail of the 'c' and cutting diagonally down to the right through the bottom tail."
"Ah, an AIDA." The voice whispers softly.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing, sir. Nothing of consequence. Nothing that would at all interest you. Nope. Not at all. Abosolutely nothing. It's just a man John."
"Which man John?"
"Forget I ever asked, sir."
The man John continued walking down his mansion.
"Layt?"
"I am Slyp now, friend."
"You change so fast I can hardly keep up."
"I do not change, it is our mind that takes its turn. I, however, am the same as I was since the last we talked."
"Not the point. Anyway, I just wanted to ask if you could help me do some research on this thing I heard. It's called the Braced Thread. I have no idea what it is. I overheard it from that man I mentioned. You know, the one with the tattoo."
Another whisper, "AIDA..."
"What?"
"I said nothing. I will search for it for you."
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Rant
I just can't figure it out. Life is so ... depressing and they come and bother me with a tesseract? I mean, who in their right mind would deal with a hypercube while my relatives are all dying? I mean, sheesh, normally I would be the first to play around with a four-dimensional figure but they ask me to solve a problem about it now? During the blasted funeral? Those guys coming over about a Dirac Sea was bad enough, and that stupid Nash Equilibrium thing was just irritating but now they want me to use a tesseract to do a similarity question on a dekeract?
Isn't a ten-dimension cube a little teeny weeny bit of an overkill? How in the blazes do I find their similarity ratio? It has 11520 faces while the tesseract has only 24! Next thing I know, they're going to ask me about non-Eucli-
Wait, don't touch that! You don't touch that! Don't touch th-! You, you, you basterd, do you know how long it took for me just to fix a model of a bloody six-dimensional cube! I'll murder you! I'll cut your head off and play basketball with it!
You know what? Screw this. Just screw it all up. I don't give the south end of a northbound dire rat about this anymore. You didn't get that? Just- Ah, never mind. Word play is lost on you. No! Word play does not mean Scrabble, you filthy fool! You can all go stick your questions up your own-
-This rant has been interrupted due to improper language and conduct-
Isn't a ten-dimension cube a little teeny weeny bit of an overkill? How in the blazes do I find their similarity ratio? It has 11520 faces while the tesseract has only 24! Next thing I know, they're going to ask me about non-Eucli-
Wait, don't touch that! You don't touch that! Don't touch th-! You, you, you basterd, do you know how long it took for me just to fix a model of a bloody six-dimensional cube! I'll murder you! I'll cut your head off and play basketball with it!
You know what? Screw this. Just screw it all up. I don't give the south end of a northbound dire rat about this anymore. You didn't get that? Just- Ah, never mind. Word play is lost on you. No! Word play does not mean Scrabble, you filthy fool! You can all go stick your questions up your own-
-This rant has been interrupted due to improper language and conduct-
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Self
He - no, it sat in the corner of a fast-food restaurant outlet.
The thing just sat there and sipped his drink. Everyone who saw him only saw his outer appearance, human and normal. If anyone knew what was going on in him....
So... uh, I'm part of this "hive mind" sort of thing now?
Yes. Forgive Us for the breaking of the spine and all that. We absorbed you, for you have certain knowledge We lack.
What do you- uh, We lack?
The ability to blend in with the crowd. Simply put, social skills.
Uh huh. What are We anyway?
We do not know. Our origins are still a mystery to Ourselves. The oldest of Us is Recrem.
Weird. So We all share control of this body?
Indeed. We dictate the actions of it but we typically put it to a vote.
What, everything you do?
No, indeed. We typically get one... spirit? consciousness to oversee the body's needs. Only major decisions are voted for.
For example?
Who to assimilate, where we're going to go for lunch, where we are going to stay next, which bank to rob, the list goes on.
Wait... You rob banks?
How else do we get money without working?
I can see that I'm going to take a long time to get used to this whole not being actually corporeal thing.
The thing just sat there and sipped his drink. Everyone who saw him only saw his outer appearance, human and normal. If anyone knew what was going on in him....
So... uh, I'm part of this "hive mind" sort of thing now?
Yes. Forgive Us for the breaking of the spine and all that. We absorbed you, for you have certain knowledge We lack.
What do you- uh, We lack?
The ability to blend in with the crowd. Simply put, social skills.
Uh huh. What are We anyway?
We do not know. Our origins are still a mystery to Ourselves. The oldest of Us is Recrem.
Weird. So We all share control of this body?
Indeed. We dictate the actions of it but we typically put it to a vote.
What, everything you do?
No, indeed. We typically get one... spirit? consciousness to oversee the body's needs. Only major decisions are voted for.
For example?
Who to assimilate, where we're going to go for lunch, where we are going to stay next, which bank to rob, the list goes on.
Wait... You rob banks?
How else do we get money without working?
I can see that I'm going to take a long time to get used to this whole not being actually corporeal thing.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Please Read This
Hello? This ain't a story. t'is just a shout out to my readers or anyone on my blog really. I just want to say that if you're an author, please please please please WRITE. I don't want to be the only 1 writing and hogging the comments aye? Even tho it feels good... ANYWAYS. readers who have a good story please share it. it don't matter whether you thought of it or not. if u want to share then just email me or send a message. well, ty all for reading this. goodnight to u all who read this at night cos imma go sleep nowww.
Accuracy fail at holidays,
Ben/Li-Jun
Consume, Conform, Obeyyyyyyy
-courtesy of the Mr. Snaffleburger corporation
Accuracy fail at holidays,
Ben/Li-Jun
Consume, Conform, Obeyyyyyyy
-courtesy of the Mr. Snaffleburger corporation
Assimilate
"Hello? Anyone there? Can anyone hear me?"
Nothing stirred.
"Ugh.. Where am I?"
It was dark all around.
"Woah! Damn, I can't even see anything here."
He's awake.
"What in the world am I supposed to do or be doing here anyway?"
Not for long.
"It's so.. stuffy in here."
All of a sudden, a hand clamped around his throat and lifted him against a wall.
"Ah! What...*cough* Let *cough* go of me!"
Do it!
"Argh! What are *gasp* you doing to my stomach!"
Finish him.
The hand that grasped his stomach slammed forward and burst through his body.
"Ah! Son of *wheeze* a bitch.."
His spine!
I know.
The hand grabbed his spine and snapped it.
Quick, before he expires!
The last thing that he felt as an individual was some tentacles jabbing into him and absorbing his body, soul and mind into itself, nourishing the body of his assailant.
Nothing stirred.
"Ugh.. Where am I?"
It was dark all around.
"Woah! Damn, I can't even see anything here."
He's awake.
"What in the world am I supposed to do or be doing here anyway?"
Not for long.
"It's so.. stuffy in here."
All of a sudden, a hand clamped around his throat and lifted him against a wall.
"Ah! What...*cough* Let *cough* go of me!"
Do it!
"Argh! What are *gasp* you doing to my stomach!"
Finish him.
The hand that grasped his stomach slammed forward and burst through his body.
"Ah! Son of *wheeze* a bitch.."
His spine!
I know.
The hand grabbed his spine and snapped it.
Quick, before he expires!
The last thing that he felt as an individual was some tentacles jabbing into him and absorbing his body, soul and mind into itself, nourishing the body of his assailant.
Monday, May 3, 2010
R'lyeh (Cont.)
All around them, they saw a room devoted to insanity. Ahead of them was a statue of the King In Yellow, a hunched figure clad in tattered, yellow rags, who wore a smooth and featureless mask. On the walls were symbols designed to drive people mad, cause people to lose their clarity and attack others. The entire room was non-Euclidean.
"I recognise that! That's Hast-"
"Idiot! Don't say his name! Have you forgotten what we have learned, Ilran?"
"Forgive me, Haythan. It was a moment of folly."
"One big moment! If Haythan didn't stop you from saying his name, we would be screwed, utterly and completely."
"At any rate Lianor, our companion has, as astutely as ever, identified He Who Must Not Be Named. And, I believe that drawing on the wall is the Feaster From Afar."
"Well, we ought to see what the puzzle is this time."
They spread out through the room, searching for any clues as to how to proceed to the next room. The room was strangely, dark. Very dark. In fact, the trio were wondering how they had managed to see anything at all in the first place in this pitch black darkness.
"Um, is it just me, or is anyone else's protective amulet getting hot?"
"Oh crap. I think this place is actually devoted to Zushakon."
They started to feel an itch at their eyes, slowly increasing in strength.
"Dark Silent One! We are devotees of your half-uncle Cthulhu! Half-brother of your progenitor, He Who Must Not Be Named!" Lianor shouted into the darkness, "We come to break the spell over R'lyeh and bring forth all the Great Old Ones! If you impede our progress, you are only destroying your chance for freedom! We thus beseech you, bring us forth into the next room, Old Night! The stars are right, Silent One!"
The itch on their eyes, which threatened to compel them to gouge their eyes out, lessened and stopped.
"That... was a helluva scary!"
"Yeah, lucky Lianor managed to keep her head clear."
"Thank you, but we should have expected something like this. Zushakon is the dark one and his progenitor was Ha- Uh, I mean He Who Must Not Be Named so Zushakon hiding under a facade of his progenitor, we should have expected that!"
As they were speaking, the darkness slowly lifted and as it vanished, they were in another room altogether.
"Well well well, what have we here this time, gentlemen?"
"I recognise that! That's Hast-"
"Idiot! Don't say his name! Have you forgotten what we have learned, Ilran?"
"Forgive me, Haythan. It was a moment of folly."
"One big moment! If Haythan didn't stop you from saying his name, we would be screwed, utterly and completely."
"At any rate Lianor, our companion has, as astutely as ever, identified He Who Must Not Be Named. And, I believe that drawing on the wall is the Feaster From Afar."
"Well, we ought to see what the puzzle is this time."
They spread out through the room, searching for any clues as to how to proceed to the next room. The room was strangely, dark. Very dark. In fact, the trio were wondering how they had managed to see anything at all in the first place in this pitch black darkness.
"Um, is it just me, or is anyone else's protective amulet getting hot?"
"Oh crap. I think this place is actually devoted to Zushakon."
They started to feel an itch at their eyes, slowly increasing in strength.
"Dark Silent One! We are devotees of your half-uncle Cthulhu! Half-brother of your progenitor, He Who Must Not Be Named!" Lianor shouted into the darkness, "We come to break the spell over R'lyeh and bring forth all the Great Old Ones! If you impede our progress, you are only destroying your chance for freedom! We thus beseech you, bring us forth into the next room, Old Night! The stars are right, Silent One!"
The itch on their eyes, which threatened to compel them to gouge their eyes out, lessened and stopped.
"That... was a helluva scary!"
"Yeah, lucky Lianor managed to keep her head clear."
"Thank you, but we should have expected something like this. Zushakon is the dark one and his progenitor was Ha- Uh, I mean He Who Must Not Be Named so Zushakon hiding under a facade of his progenitor, we should have expected that!"
As they were speaking, the darkness slowly lifted and as it vanished, they were in another room altogether.
"Well well well, what have we here this time, gentlemen?"
R'lyeh
"Okay, how about now?"
"No, no, no. Are you sure you're pushing the right buttons?"
"Aye. Dagon, Shub-Niggurath, Dagon, Cthulhu, Dagon, Cthulhu. Let me try again..."
The third person, a woman, spoke up, "Are you even sure you translated the thing properly?"
Ilran replied, "Yes. As sure as Cthulhu fhtagn."
Haythan flinched. "I hate it, the amount of time we're taking. I rather read the Necronomicon."
Lianor replied, "Hey, don't remind what it took us just to get that damned book, yeah?"
Ilran moved around the carvings in the small and enclosed cavern. They had taken a long time just to get to this chamber in R'lyeh, or at least, what they assumed to be R'lyeh.
Ilran carefully went around the statue of the three deities. (Not actual deities, just powerful beings worshipped by the Esoteric Order Of Dagon, except for Shub-Niggurath)
"Okay, I'll try again."
"And hopefully we won't die of incredible hunger or massive sanity loss."
"That's why we have our food and amulets with us, Haythan."
"Alright, Dagon, Shub-Niggurath, Dagon again.." So saying, Ilran pushed the buttons one by one.
Lianor went to the tablet at the side and started translating it.
"Damn, it still didn't work!"
"That's cause you translated it wrong, idiot. You completely botched it up. The sequence is Cthulhu, Shub-Niggurath, Cthulhu, Dagon, Cthulhu, Dagon. The eye indicates Cthulhu, not Dagon. How did you make such a mistake?"
"Huh. That's weird. I thought the eye looked like Dagon's symbol. They get confusing if you stare at them for too long."
"C'mon Lianor, it's a forgivable mistake. This is R'lyeh we're in, so I suppose Ilran did see it wrongly."
"Man, shouldn't we be protected from these stuff since we are devoted to Cthulhu? I won't say worship 'cause he's not actually a god."
"Well, Cthulhu drives anyone mad so it would make sense."
Meanwhile Lianor was pressing the buttons in the proper sequence. The door ahead of them creaked and groaned open.
"Finally! You know, with all these traps and puzzles, one would think Cthulhu doesn't want to be freed."
"It's to make sure whoever frees him is worthy."
"I'a Cthulhu."
They entered a room with an archway ahead of them against the wall.
"Oh, I know this one."
"Okay, let's see how you do, Haythan."
Haythan stepped forward and lifted up an amethyst pendant with a gold that was not quite gold around it but some kind of whitish gold.
"V'hu-ehn n'kgnath fha'gnu n'aem'nh. V'glyzz k'fungn cylth-a v'el cylth-Cthulhu k'fungn'i. I'a rygzengrho. I'a Shub Niggurath. I'a Dagon. I'a Cthulhu."
With a flash, the archway burst into light. A portal had opened.
"Well, we might as well get going. R'lyeh is rather huge."
"No, no, no. Are you sure you're pushing the right buttons?"
"Aye. Dagon, Shub-Niggurath, Dagon, Cthulhu, Dagon, Cthulhu. Let me try again..."
The third person, a woman, spoke up, "Are you even sure you translated the thing properly?"
Ilran replied, "Yes. As sure as Cthulhu fhtagn."
Haythan flinched. "I hate it, the amount of time we're taking. I rather read the Necronomicon."
Lianor replied, "Hey, don't remind what it took us just to get that damned book, yeah?"
Ilran moved around the carvings in the small and enclosed cavern. They had taken a long time just to get to this chamber in R'lyeh, or at least, what they assumed to be R'lyeh.
Ilran carefully went around the statue of the three deities. (Not actual deities, just powerful beings worshipped by the Esoteric Order Of Dagon, except for Shub-Niggurath)
"Okay, I'll try again."
"And hopefully we won't die of incredible hunger or massive sanity loss."
"That's why we have our food and amulets with us, Haythan."
"Alright, Dagon, Shub-Niggurath, Dagon again.." So saying, Ilran pushed the buttons one by one.
Lianor went to the tablet at the side and started translating it.
"Damn, it still didn't work!"
"That's cause you translated it wrong, idiot. You completely botched it up. The sequence is Cthulhu, Shub-Niggurath, Cthulhu, Dagon, Cthulhu, Dagon. The eye indicates Cthulhu, not Dagon. How did you make such a mistake?"
"Huh. That's weird. I thought the eye looked like Dagon's symbol. They get confusing if you stare at them for too long."
"C'mon Lianor, it's a forgivable mistake. This is R'lyeh we're in, so I suppose Ilran did see it wrongly."
"Man, shouldn't we be protected from these stuff since we are devoted to Cthulhu? I won't say worship 'cause he's not actually a god."
"Well, Cthulhu drives anyone mad so it would make sense."
Meanwhile Lianor was pressing the buttons in the proper sequence. The door ahead of them creaked and groaned open.
"Finally! You know, with all these traps and puzzles, one would think Cthulhu doesn't want to be freed."
"It's to make sure whoever frees him is worthy."
"I'a Cthulhu."
They entered a room with an archway ahead of them against the wall.
"Oh, I know this one."
"Okay, let's see how you do, Haythan."
Haythan stepped forward and lifted up an amethyst pendant with a gold that was not quite gold around it but some kind of whitish gold.
"V'hu-ehn n'kgnath fha'gnu n'aem'nh. V'glyzz k'fungn cylth-a v'el cylth-Cthulhu k'fungn'i. I'a rygzengrho. I'a Shub Niggurath. I'a Dagon. I'a Cthulhu."
With a flash, the archway burst into light. A portal had opened.
"Well, we might as well get going. R'lyeh is rather huge."
Windmill
It was so peaceful up here, on the windmill island.
"Windmill, windmill for the land,
turn forever hand in hand,"
Life was short, people should just relax, instead of rushing around so much. Slow down.. But "there ain't no rest for the wicked, until we close our eyes for good".
"Take it all in on your stride, it is sinking, falling down,
love forever, love is free let's turn forever you and me."
Live and let live, they say. No one could actually do that, they were all tied down by worries. Be carefree, like a bird flying through the blue sky..
"Windmill, windmill for the land,
is everybody in?"
No, no one relaxed anymore, not in this modern landscape. People only knew to work, work and work some more. Leisure was a thing of the past.
"Feel Good."
"Windmill, windmill for the land,
turn forever hand in hand,"
Life was short, people should just relax, instead of rushing around so much. Slow down.. But "there ain't no rest for the wicked, until we close our eyes for good".
"Take it all in on your stride, it is sinking, falling down,
love forever, love is free let's turn forever you and me."
Live and let live, they say. No one could actually do that, they were all tied down by worries. Be carefree, like a bird flying through the blue sky..
"Windmill, windmill for the land,
is everybody in?"
No, no one relaxed anymore, not in this modern landscape. People only knew to work, work and work some more. Leisure was a thing of the past.
"Feel Good."
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Mythos
As I pen down my account of how their civilisation ended, I question my own sanity. These things were never meant to be known by man. And yet, I somehow feel that we should know that which had created us, even though we were just a failed experiment to them....
The two beings were part of the Council. They stood atop a great icy plateau, overlooking the entire region. They did not speak in any language known to man. However, for the reader's sake, it shall be translated.
"We have to go some other place. This planet is cooling down, too much."
"Indeed. We will have to bring this up in the Council."
---
"You propose we bring what we can down to the bottom of the ocean?"
"It will not harm us as you well know. Our People can survive much."
A third spoke up, "You would have us forsake our entire civilisation?"
"Merely to protect our race. It would not be much of a trouble. The shoggoths are adept at such menial tasks as it were."
The second waved its five sets of tentacles in agitation, "I for one, do not trust the shoggoths! We may have agreed to let them do all the menial tasks but -"
"You have nought to worry about. They aren't sentient, we control them by hypnotic suggestion as you know."
"At any rate," the first interjected, "We are digressing. We should now vote, do we move undersea?"
The vote was 15 - 8, in favour of.
---
Years passed, the above world was warm once more. But the Elder Things had lost all interest in the surface, and was content to lead a life of indulgence. But many things can happen in a few millenia.
"I think, therefore I am" is a powerful statement, first coined by men. But little did they know, it could apply to other things. Such as the shoggoths.
The Council convened once more.
"We must crush the shoggoths, they have grown sentient and rebel against their rightful masters!"
"We all agree on this point but we need them. We have grown incredibly dependent on them for labour. I wish we could stop this dependency, but we know no other way."
"It is agreed then. That which created the shoggoths shall be their downfall."
---
They managed to crush the rebellion, but the cost was heavy. It was not just heavy, it was too heavy. The shoggoths were mostly eliminated but the remaining few fled away into the deeps where they now procreate their own kind. Without any form of help for labour, the society of the Elder Things slowly crumbled. It was not just the shoggoths, but also the Yithians, the star-spawn of dreaded, sleeping Cthulhu and the Mi-go who had contributed to their end. The shoggoths are still down there, in a city they have made, a dreadful and horrible parody of their former master's own city.
The fact that they are still down there and surviving sends shivers down my spine but it would be even worse if they ever found the flourishing surface of man of any interest. They are not the worse of these horrors that dwell on our planet. The Great Slumbering Cthulhu is another example of such terrors of the deep.
"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn" is what they chant, the alien syllables mashing together to form blasphemous meanings. The spawn of Cthulhu survives on the land while the shoggoths have taken the charge of the sea from the Elder Things.
May these monsters of primal power never, ever come to the knowledge of the common man, lest our culture be driven mad by such utterings.
-A Page From The Diary Of Abdul Alhazred
The two beings were part of the Council. They stood atop a great icy plateau, overlooking the entire region. They did not speak in any language known to man. However, for the reader's sake, it shall be translated.
"We have to go some other place. This planet is cooling down, too much."
"Indeed. We will have to bring this up in the Council."
---
"You propose we bring what we can down to the bottom of the ocean?"
"It will not harm us as you well know. Our People can survive much."
A third spoke up, "You would have us forsake our entire civilisation?"
"Merely to protect our race. It would not be much of a trouble. The shoggoths are adept at such menial tasks as it were."
The second waved its five sets of tentacles in agitation, "I for one, do not trust the shoggoths! We may have agreed to let them do all the menial tasks but -"
"You have nought to worry about. They aren't sentient, we control them by hypnotic suggestion as you know."
"At any rate," the first interjected, "We are digressing. We should now vote, do we move undersea?"
The vote was 15 - 8, in favour of.
---
Years passed, the above world was warm once more. But the Elder Things had lost all interest in the surface, and was content to lead a life of indulgence. But many things can happen in a few millenia.
"I think, therefore I am" is a powerful statement, first coined by men. But little did they know, it could apply to other things. Such as the shoggoths.
The Council convened once more.
"We must crush the shoggoths, they have grown sentient and rebel against their rightful masters!"
"We all agree on this point but we need them. We have grown incredibly dependent on them for labour. I wish we could stop this dependency, but we know no other way."
"It is agreed then. That which created the shoggoths shall be their downfall."
---
They managed to crush the rebellion, but the cost was heavy. It was not just heavy, it was too heavy. The shoggoths were mostly eliminated but the remaining few fled away into the deeps where they now procreate their own kind. Without any form of help for labour, the society of the Elder Things slowly crumbled. It was not just the shoggoths, but also the Yithians, the star-spawn of dreaded, sleeping Cthulhu and the Mi-go who had contributed to their end. The shoggoths are still down there, in a city they have made, a dreadful and horrible parody of their former master's own city.
The fact that they are still down there and surviving sends shivers down my spine but it would be even worse if they ever found the flourishing surface of man of any interest. They are not the worse of these horrors that dwell on our planet. The Great Slumbering Cthulhu is another example of such terrors of the deep.
"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn" is what they chant, the alien syllables mashing together to form blasphemous meanings. The spawn of Cthulhu survives on the land while the shoggoths have taken the charge of the sea from the Elder Things.
May these monsters of primal power never, ever come to the knowledge of the common man, lest our culture be driven mad by such utterings.
-A Page From The Diary Of Abdul Alhazred
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Tautology
The first rule of the Tautology Club is the first rule of the Tautology Club and is also a rule of the Tautology. The Tautology Club is the Tautology Club. To defy Tautology is to defy Tautology. The myth of time travel can be a myth. If you have used Google to check up what Tautology is, you have used a web browser to check up what Tautology is. Whoever still doesn't know what Tautology is, still doesn't know what self-reference is. Whoever doesn't know what self-reference is, does not know what Tautology is. A recursive cycle is a loop. This paragraph is Tautological. This sentence is Tautological. A Tautology Club member is a member of the Tautology Club. Microwave ovens use microwave technology to microwave things in an oven. The first team to win will be the first team who wins. The losing team shall be the losing team. Red Teams are fast. Blue teams are lucky. The word Tautology is tautological. Computers can compute things. I am a member of my own Tautology Club. Whoever signs up, is a member of the Tautology Club, provided that I approve. Tautology is very cyclical.
Limerick #1
Water is a precious thing,
We all just love to drink.
Definitely,
We treat it like it's always infinitely
there, let's think.
We all just love to drink.
Definitely,
We treat it like it's always infinitely
there, let's think.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)