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This is a collection of writings for the Neoromance project.
See the relevant page for more information. These are not meant to be
objective views on the universe and histories, but rather subjective,
dogmatic, even outright weighted garbage. Some of them are really
silly, some utterly boring, but I had a lot of fun writing them. Today,
I guess I would have done many things differently, but here are the
writings as they were.
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A general study, by Nagus Er’Ul, assistant cissomatic theorist
INNER
SHELL or ”Deo”: the verse of reality and time, composed of mellow
ether, the air, the fire, the void and the animate soil that comprises
all else, including the rootlife and the elusive source of intelligent
animation. Illumination and warmth for Deo radiates our distant solar
furnace, given the name of Myahud by the Second Men of Deo, also known
as the first Dynasty, and it is an enormous burning globe of fire in
constant revolutive motion around the ball of matter that is all. It is
opposed by a globe of void, the Mirkhud, which during mirk chills the
opposing side of Deo with equalizing measure, with both of them
attached to the firmament of the celestial empyrea; and through divine
will, the farthest stratum of existence keeps spinning in constant
motion.
According to archaic Octedact myth, nothing exists beyond the celestial
body but Falsea, or Outer Shell: the horrible realm of the Mya, the
supposed omnipotent prime beings, who are in essence god-spirits of Deo
and all verses. The cosmic birth an eternity of lapses ago of the
trinity of god-siblings from the Prime Seed is marked as the beginning
of time and matter as we perceive it, though, during this time the
verse was a cold and empty place, without Deo, Men or even rootlife.
Mya Golos, Lord of Void, is often thought of as the elder brother,
though he is far from virtuous, having little more than contempt and
indifference toward the fate of Men; Mya Magh, the Hand of Entropy, is
the middle sibling and recognized as the arch-adversial defier, who
challenges the mortal spirit in the constant struggle for survival; and
the lastborn god-sibling, Mya Nubilca, is titled as having created Men
in the primordial times, and is associated with fickle innocence,
curiosity and the will to live. She is presumed to be long dead, slain
by her antagonistic brother Mya Magh ”when Deo was in it’s infancy”.
Sensing her imminent death, she encased Deo inside an impenetrable
mantle firmament {the celestial empyrea}, onto which Myahud and
Mirkhud, the twin stars were mounted to feed the newly-created
rootlife. Some herald her as the divine mother and savior for this
action of mercy and for the existence of life in general. During the
current, 720th lapse, the presence, even the very existence of Mya is
contested by some, and a belief has surfaced which hints that a more
encompassing explanation for the verse, both inner {Deo} and outer
shell {what is outside}. For more knowledge on the Mya myth, the Omnia
Octedact may be consulted.
What eventually plunged Men from the Mirk-age of quasi-religious,
speculative view of the verses into the path of the Cissomatic Gnosis,
or rational inquiry, were nothing more than casual delvings at first
into the metaphysical essence of rootlife on a miniscule magnitudal
level. These intricate studies yielded troubling inconsistencies in
those dictated by Omnia Octedact, the often quoted written history and
former spiritual tenet of Men: those mainly concerning the lability of
the corpuscle, which is the smallest known mote of substance discovered
as of the writing of this study. Rootlife is the term used for the dirt
of Deo and all life that is gives, including each of us. We are all of
rootlife, which was long thought {and as explained in the Omnia
Octedact volume two} to be the lifegift given to us by Mya Nubilca,
starting all life from one single corpuscle, then gradually over
countless lapses evolving into what we are now.
Corpuscles of rootlife have the tendency to avoid detection, and even
when observed appear to interconnect in a way that makes them almost
indistiguishable from each other. Closer observation of the patterns of
the corpuscles seem to hint that they are all part of some greater
whole that cannot be fathomed in such miniscule scale of observation.
The popular theory, supported by a number of highly-esteemed scholars
is that the all corpuscles form a fabric of space and time, and in
essence, we are all united by the very fragments that compose us. The
most curious observation was that each corpuscle has a primal
intelligence following a decree of laws and rules beforehand dictated,
built into their base composition, which in itself is bent on
individual survival, and that such mote cannot in actuality ”die”, but
only stops working until it is reformed again in a living body of
corpuscles and thus reinitiated in motion. This newly found disparity
of myth and reality is a mind-puzzling for many an alchemist of the 7th
hundredcircuit. Now, several of the claims previously taken as
irrefutable facts the Omnia Octedact makes have troubling
inconsitencies in verse realismic studies. Take the claim for divine
difference for example: that all matter was created separately in the
Prime Seed Event, and that gods are not of matter at all. Inside an
ossuary husk that the Octedact cult possesses are implied to be the
sacred mortal remains of Mya Nubilca. When her mortified flesh was
inspected to the corpuscle, it was found to be almost identical in
primordial composition to that of an average dweller of Deo, with the
only exception being the exceedingly high amount of mellow ether, an
anomalous substance present in tiny quanitites in all corpuscles and
even in void chambers. For some, this discovery only reinforced the
myth of a god’s will made manifest to flesh; to others, less so.
Mellow ether is a whole different chapter of oddness. Precious little
has been unraveled of it’s secrets, as it’s composition seems to be
dependent on the amount of conciousness stimulated by corpuscles in
close proximity to mellow ether waves. The discovery of residual mellow
ether in the alleged remains of Mya Nubilca had conservative Octedact
cultists proclaim it as the ”godmind wave” {once again striking a
painful point in the presumption for the average cultist’s desire to be
a pawn of something larger} and in time this created a base of
hierarchy dependent on the amount of mellow ether activity within one’s
body. Some went even as far as measuring mellow ether from inanimate
objects and ground rootlife formations, which were then commenced to be
revered. Nevertheless, the gnosist consensus is that further study is
required to understand this mellow ether fluid we all swim about in.
Whatever the case, it is beginning to become clear that our verse is
not a result of mere caprice of invisible sky-gods of terror and awe,
but rather the result of some ancient cosmic cataclysm. What lies
beyond the celestial body that encompasses Deo remains to be seen, as
one day Men of this Verse shall yet traverse those heights and
penetrate that mysterious body to enter a verse of infinite
possibilities.
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for educative purposes by the esteemed Catz Seeker Society
By
public admission, the primordial times are often considered a lapse of
chaos, uncertainty and of constant strife. For most parts, these
beliefs ring true, yet such conjectures go wrong in assuming the lapse
was of pain, suffering and a neverending torment of survival. Sure,
these things did exist from the very moment the first rootlife
corpuscle plopped into existence from nothing, as Deo was back then
what one would call a ’hostile environment’, and nutrients were scarce,
but for a time there was an era of surprising serenity. Predatory
rootlife competetion came only many, many lapses since. After lapses of
replicating, the first rootlife found it had filled Deo with clones of
itself, all devouring what they could from the dead husk-matter that
was present in such primordial age. It found nutrients harder and
harder to find every cycle, and wherever it went, always there were
clones of itself already there, consuming the precious nutrients it
sought to prolong it’s existence. A thought occurred to it’s
rudimentary mind {perhaps the very first concious choice to be
realized} that since it’s brothers and sisters had ingested nutrients,
consuming them would yield a condensed amount of digestibles. This
event marks the beginning of the spark of adversity, and the natural
process of mind over matter, cunning over the savage.
For countless lapses, Deo was a wrangling cage for the most fierce and
most intelligent of active rootlife. In this era, the vegetatious
rootlife was also born from primordial corpuscles that subconsciously
refused to trade their tranquil harvesting of nutrients for viciously
assaulting older and lesser rootlife, but instead growing actual roots,
planting themselves into the soil and allowing themselves to be
consumed partially, and digesting the parts of others in turn unusable
by active rootlife which was left in their vicinity. Some chose instead
of becoming vegetatious and simultaneously forgetting their
long-cultivated intelligence to sacrifice survivability for high
propagative rate. Many diverse prime genus of rootlife was birthed
during this era, all contending to survive the wiles of others, but
only several remain to this day: why? Excluding those few prime genuses
that were lucky enough to find a secluded place in the open soil or
oceans of Deo, the majority either disappeared in totality or were
weeded out so only the most fit would survive the ruthless competition
of life. To see the survival of their offspring, these beings had to
evolve past the point of their adversaries, who in turn had to evolve,
and so on. Each generation, cunning intellect was amplified and what
were almost automaton-like corpuscles had become in the turning of
lapses species of such crafty wickedness. These higher genuses, the
Golosroc, which are often thought of as the most developed forms of
rootlife ever to exist, deemed that for their superior state, only the
flesh of active predatory rootlife would satisfy their growing bodies’
and minds’ needs.
In what is seen as good fortune, these little-known higher forms of
rootlife genus disappeared from Deo in the beginning of the lushian
lapse. Perhaps the climate gradually became too heavy, or their
newlyfound diet was so constricted that they simply weren’t able to
sustain themselves. Whatever the case, it seems that the First Men came
into existence from those species that chose propagation over predatory
insincts and selfish prolongation of an individual life. As much as
SOME contemporary ”seekers” would like to believe that Men are the
superior, most developed species ever to walk the surface of Deo, this
theory reeks of self-conceit. In some ways, yes, our corpuscles
outlived those of the Golosroc, in their relatively similar form, but
that may as well be a fluke of luck and good circumstances in the
proto-lushian lapses. There absolutely exists NO empyrean proof of our
”victory” over them, other than our continued existence, which in
itself proves nothing. After all, one would not make the claim that
vegetatious rootlife was in any way superior in complexity to the
Golosroc, yet they may outlast even us.
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for educative purposes by the esteemed Catz Seeker Society
Civilization
as we aknowledge it arose in what is known today as the region of
Lereina in the eastern province. How or why sentience was achieved is
unknown, but what is known, is that the First Men descended from a
species of plain-dwellers who moved in sparse packs and suckled the
acrid saps of lushian clamlike rootlife with their nimble hands from
pockets of soil. They discovered the gas taps, and were able to produce
fire for warmth to survive the mirk. In ways, heightened intelligence
is attributed not to our making, but of the clamlike critters of that
lapse, used for sustenance, which happened to be highly concentrated
with favourable corpuscle combinations and nutrients. For their
misfortune, the delicious clam was hunted to extinction, but not before
their flesh had given us the gift of sentience and a constant hunger
for the condensed nutrient.
The First Men lived in huts made of stool, captured the clam with
terkhite tethers and defended their packs with primitive marrow edges.
A few reliquary toolworks and attempts at religious art of the time
have been discovered, which have hinted that the First Men resorted to
cannibalism at times. It is likely that once the concept of territorial
possession came into being, the Men began to form distinct ”tribes” and
feed on their rivals when possible. This contesting further advanced
the development of intelligence and lead Man slowly from the age of
tribal existence into a complex civilization with trade between tribes
that later became citystates. This process is estimated to have taken
from fifteen to twenty thousand lapses, until the beginning of recorded
history and of the Dynasties.
Second Men are often atitled to being the the first true Dynasty.
Spoken language had taken it’s modern form by then, and workings to
create a unified written glyph-based system was commenced by the
nomadic priests of the religion that is nowdays known as Octedactism.
As before the Dynasty, recording of history was done with crude
drawings or by the language of song {a procedure which made history
highly mutable and vulnerable to constant debate, as we have seen}. It
should be noted that the Dynasty’s people were allegedly moderated by
nine heroic figures of myth, and that the mytho-poetic stories they
appeared in were revered. The largest citystates of that time: Rasheri,
Octiantia and Annul, all located on the isle Acnahav, where the city of
Catz now presides, were waging constant war between eachother, until
Octus I, the ruler of Octiantia Empire, managed to unify the citystates
under one banner. From henceforth, for more than four hundred lapses,
the rule of law was at the hands his descendants, and this is known as
the time of Dynasties. During this prolonged period of time, several
conquests to neighboring continents were made. The Ninth Dynasty
eventually collapsed on itself due to revolting and public unrest of
it’s citizens, crumbling down the Octiantia empire and bloodline, built
literally on the corpses of hundreds of thousands of slaves and
opposers of the Dynasty. Some monuments of this time still remain built
into terkhite, the most famous of them being the Catz Royal Palace and
the Colossus of Provinces, which have somehow survived through the
lapses unharmed; standing as the silent reminders of the advanced
civilization and the eventual ruin of the Second Men of Deo.
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for educative purposes by the esteemed Catz Seeker Society
For
many lapses after the fall of the Ninth Dynasty in the 445th lapse, The
old infrastructure gone, former Men of the Empire were disarranged and
wandered without purpose or guidance, riddled by pestilences, famines
and squalor. This age is known as the Dreug, or the Mirk-age; it took
Men more than two hundred lapses to create a unified deoist authority
again. Feodalistic states and various forces arose and fell during the
Dreug, but none withstood the test of time save one: the Octedact Cult
had persevered the Fall of the Ninth Dynasty, and preached their
understanding of the verses, gaining favor and followers by tens of
thousands. In the 662th lapse, the Dreug ends. The promised city of the
Octedact Cult, Catz, is besieged and occupied by the self-proclaimed
warrior king Rodoril of Chuun and his invincible armies. Rodoril
converts to Octedactism, and assumes his divine name of Octus XXII, and
attempts to found the Dynasty he so admires anew. His plans are buried
along with him, after an assassination by the Orohara, an enigmatic
sect of former soldiers of fortune, and while his meekly heir, Octus
XXIII attempts to keep the recently re-assembled Octedactia Empire in
control, he fast falls under the sway of the Polyarchy, a gathering of
powerful mystics and alchemists, and is silently dethroned soon after.
The Polyarchy, comprising of eight individuals of immense power,
institute a contentious power equilibrium-system based on the
possession of Ibin baubles, artefacts of immeasurable value, and rule
the ever-expanding city of Catz from that day hence. They establish a
caste system for nobility, workers and slaves; all the Men of Catz, and
a method of investigation never before utilized in the verses called
Cissomatic Gnosis, the rational inquiry. In fifty lapses, Catz,
hastened with the rivalry of the belligerent alchemists makes
considerable advances in gnosist disciplines, discovers mellow ether
and unravels the essence of rootlife and it’s building blocks, the
corpuscles. The alchemists devise that through cumulative growing of
lateral protrusions, prefatory corpuscles can be birthed from the
hereditary tissue of a recently deceaced carrion, then weaved into
whatever motes are required. This discovery leads to a high knowledge
of abitofugal alchemy {the tampering of the corpuscules of living
tissue}, the sub-cellular manipulation of rootlife. The face of Deo is
forever altered, as rootlife can now be created upon whim to suit
whatever needs the industry has. In the coming years, the architecture
and economic system of Catz and it’s native isle of Acnahav is
proliferated, its many citizens lifted from their toil instead focus
on mental matters like theory, mathematics, rootweaving, concoctions,
mercantile, sports and arts of various kind.
In the 702th lapse, the invasive cultures of the sub-men of Chuun and
Old Sumat grow to envy the riches and wonders of Catz, and ally to
pillage the grand city. Softened by their easy life, the Catzians turn
to their sovereign rulers for aid when the largest armies ever
assembled sail to bring about war to their isle of Acnahav. The
Polyarchy, in their corpuscle vats, brews a mighty weapon of colossal
consequences, and sinks the whole fleet of Chuun, and forces Old Sumat
Empire to flee to their native southern deserts, an event known as the
”Overturn”. The Polyarchy thus realized they cannot merely sit idle in
thought throughout history, Deo revolves constantly around Catz, and
time will leave one behind if it’s ordeal by fire cannot be met. In the
705th lapse, the Doctrine of Dominance is put into effect, and the
Conciliator-caste trained: a special division of agents capable of
diffusing any politically flammable situation and uphold the interests
of Catz in foreign lands. Numerous such agents are sent in each of
Chuun, Old Sumat, Lereina, Odessa and Rurkh, and some left to safeguard
Catz against further alien incursions. It would seem that the
Conciliators have succeeded in their challenging task, for there has
been no further aggressions in fifteen consequent lapses since, and
although the threat of war looms constantly over us, we may always turn
on our polyarchic masters to save us.
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An encodium; by Ronic, Grand Steward of the Royal Dynastic Palace
To
avoid awkward situations and to promote common knowledge, this advisory
is prepared for those of the nobility new or oblivious to social
situations of this scope, or not wholly familiar with the intricate
ethics and code of conduct expected in the presence of our praised
polyarchic lords and masters. One should take great care when occupying
the concecrated house of our just administration. Whatever your
disposition, please peruse this pamphlet with diligent acuity.
D’MYAD, SPEAKER
The most exalted D’Myad, our sovereign demigod ruler, patron saint to
the nobility caste, staunch scion of the Carnality ideal, the endower
of eternal life and speaker to the polyarchy for eight consequtive
lapses is housed with his followers at the ventricles of the divine
triangle, and the adjacent chambers. Master D’Myad has in His wisdom
informed us that only reserved guests should attend Him during this
stay. For compliments and relevant annotations, please see to his chief
of public matters, Ser Lozlock, who can be located in the entry hall
for the ventricles.
FUNDAME, SPARK-GIVER
Master Fundame, Seeker extraordinaire, lately known for His astonishing
feats on the field of abitofugal alchemy, will reside in the eastern
wing of the palace during His stay, and will bring with Him His
fledgling ward, the lovely heiress to godhood, maiden Nubilca, for whom
we all have high hopes for. Ser Fundame has likewise announced that
under no circumstances should His privacy be invaded during this
lapse’s assembly, and wishes that all praisal and input be directed to
His aide, Ser Erebar, who you will most likely chance at the evening
ball.
TEZSIR III
The third of his royal line, arch-sage Tezsir of Lokebund deserves no
less acclaim for His vast sagacity than His peers. As the founder and
father of the sub-pressure -method, the author of the unified particla
schema and esteemed dean of the Seeker Society of Catz, His
accomplisments are numerous. Master Tezsir, in His graciousness
welcomes all royal guests of honor and good disposition to inspect the
latest creation of his genius, the reservoir-acceleration apparatus,
which will be at display in His quarters of Clear Vision, in the
southeastern sanctums of the palace.
THE MARTYR
Our dear deacon of discomfort, the curate of dolority, the paragon of
pain and suffering, Master Martyr and his loyal proponents have
reserved for their meditations the idyllic Pavilions of Ponderation,
that can be found under clear sky on the rear of the Palace. Ser
Arturro, Master Martyr’s attendant, informs us that the gathering shall
receive all to share the wondrous sensations and learn more of His
Violator ideal.
ARC-RAN
The mysterious, the fascinating, the bewildering Arc-Ran and His
Preciteran warriors of logic will stay at our Palace’s domed luxury
turret, where they will accept the attendance of invited guests for
exhilarating philosophical debates on the ideal of Now and Then and
other matters. Master Arc-Ran and his candidates have explicitly asked
us to abstain from listing the achievements of Him, and we shall comply
with heartfelt relief and gaiety, for the list would certainly have no
end to it!
MU, PROLETARIAT
Master Mu, the patron saint of the meek and feeble, the caring altruist
and shield of hope for Catz, earnest spokesperson to those of the ideal
of Indulgence has once again, to the mirth of us, brought with Him his
gallant chosen straight from the hellish abyss they drudge in, so that
we may never forget the horrors these valiant men and their kin face
for the good of all of us. May their sacrifice be forever remembered
and preserved in records of history for the generations to come. As is
their lapsal custom which we have come to admire greatly, Master Mu and
His aficionado have chosen for their keep the Royal Barracks, located
beyond the pavilions; and have in their generosity offered once again
to receive anyone to their humble dwelling to receive guidance
unfaltered by pride.
MECHANUS, GRAND-ARTISAN
The high-operator of the incredible floating furnaces and main
instructor of the Artisan ideal, Master Mechanus has deemed it wise on
this occasion to don a magnificient suit of crystal lens and of
impenetrable Godsweave, and what an inspiring sight He is! For those of
us with the acumen to bask in His presence, Master Mechanus shall
answer any questions through His trusted calliper interpreter and aide,
Ser Larle, and is to be found in His desired quarters of Octavian
Overlook, in the northeastern segment.
SION, WOEWISHER
A listing of esteemed Seekers would not be compleat without the mention
of the eulogized Master Sion, first Seeker to end all pursuit of
knowledge by way of utter omniscience. For those preparing for an
audience: expect a delay, for we expect royalty to flock to Him in
frantic search for answers, as with previous lapses. Yet His patience
and kindness is great, for Master Sion has vowed not to turn a soul
from His sight if proper inquiries are made to Him. He has informed us
that He is to be found at the ball during the assembly evening,
entertaining the royalty with His cheerful demeanor and infinite wisdom.
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The account of Octedact bishop Kher-Ben on the Faux-Nubilca of Seeker Fundame; 715th lapse, Jyhad cycle
Sacrilege!
Preposterous aspersion of our sacred divine deity! I, for one, denounce
all of my most devout faith and commitment if such an abomination is
canonized into our good Octus! Burned, bashed and ripped to pieces by a
rabid swarm of wild skeets such as it should be, for it is a travesty
and abhorrence of the virtues our goddess represents! With black
magicks this Fundame-villain has managed to bake into existence a
horrible mockery of the concious Man, and taught it with barnacle
treats to imitate the preconditions of sentience. It is an APE at the
absolute most, much alike that obtuse pleasure puppet our perverse
Speaker keeps in his leash to empty his sacks in!
As if the sins of the knaves were not enough as it was, the cur has the
NERVE to dispatch his minion to burgle and purloin the untouchable
remains of beloved Nubilca. And he took a good portion of the sacred
meat too! Such HUBRIS! Let it be known that this INSULT shall not go
unremembered, nor unpunished! That thing which claims it is of divine
origin speaks with words of treason and heresy of the highest degree,
and should be put to death without hesitation!
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by Cuom Corgh, ex-sediment-expert;
Watch
out sloop, you just stepped on a pile of shit! Now you’re thinking,
”No, I don’t believe I did.”, Well, Ser, Yes you did! You see, we live
in a world of excretement, that is to say: Shit! All matter around us
was once digested by some repugnant critter of the foggy past of our
beloved Deo, and promptly shat out to be the feast of another poor
bastard soon after! It’s disgusting, *I* know. Having served as the
sediment-expert for more than ten lapses in the dreadful abyss that was
Pyria Terkhite Mine, I can say that nothing in the verses can compare
to the realization you’ve always *been* shit, soaked in shit all along!
Well, you might think next that it’s not so bad. Shit is a natural part
of life and if we must see, touch, smell, feed on, drink and wash
ourselves with it, then so be it. I mean, all is polished up by some
artisan somewhere so I don’t actually have to mold it with mine own
hands. Sloop, I’ve got a surprise for you! Think it stops there? You
think??? Of course not! You also BREATHE shit every time you inhale!
That gas you seep is what rooters shit out, just to laugh at you
sniffing their foams of crap!
During one of our countless dung excavations, we found a nice
concentration of... you guessed it: shit. Turned out some of the
high-hinks from the seekers could tell things from this massive dookie
we’d hauled up. There was a time in the past when shitters were
critters of simplicity, but still possessed a degree of brain activity.
They figured: ”the world is dying, only small skinbreathers can live in
this wretched place, a vital component is missing, we must become the
shit that lunged shitters can sustain themselved with, so they can
become bigger and complex”. So they all sacrificed themselves in an
exertive defecation event to shit out their nutrients as the air that
we breathe. Simply put: that air you’re breathing is a composition of
fart and miniscule pieces of turd like everything else.
It’s rather sweet, actually, that they gave their filthy lives for us
to have a shot at this lavatory life, but at the edge of the mirk it
doesn’t change the fact that it’s still just the same old shit!
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Overscribe
Logurkh is believed to have superimposed his name onto this ”didactic
fable” which, according to historians for many lapses predates his very
existence. Assumed true author of this recitation is Marcussos,
missionary pastor of the Ruhrk colony during the thirtyninth lapse of
Dreug;
Thirty
days and thirty mirks, beloved Nubilca curse me weak, I could not take
the scorching heat for a cycle longer. And the noises, they pestered me
to the very brink: for heaven knows it, I was starving for sustenance.
The boat of supplies that had come until now every third cycle to bring
me rations from civilized lands was two cycles at missing. Many days
ago I had abandoned hope, and had engaged in fervent panegyric rites of
our goddess most holy and the sacred father Octus, so that in absense
of deoan sustenance, they would bestow me with hallow aliment to fight
off the despair and loneliness of my desolate shack. In my daily moment
of weakness, I harbored thoughts of submitting to the next deluge,
which my tattered almanac indicated was in the coming.
One edge of mirk I was at the barren shore, scrounging the well-scoured
sands for tiny beetles that had for days eluded my trembling fingers,
when I heard their ruckus yet again. Beyond the shallow ocean stream
that separated my isle from the mainland they were at it again: the
sadistic savages of hedony. Back in Octiantia convent, I was instructed
specifically not to interact with this atavistic tribe, for their ways
were violent and many a pilgrim had perished as the head course of
their cannibalistic feasts, but I had detected no presence of other
tribes here either, so who was I preaching to?
These ape-men, who were dark as mirkhud on the Yog-cycle once again
commenced their daily ritual of torment: they began to devour meals of
large proportion right in the full view of I; shells of juicy hopper
meat, whole nests of insects drowned in wine marinade and fried to
crispy treats, enormous jars of honey-glazed berries... All I could do
to resist the urge to join them in the eternal darkness of sin was to
genuflect helplessly the sacred rites of denial until mirk came and the
savages were once again gone. To what daemonic end they beleaguered me
thus, my befuddled mind could not fathom.
That mirk, I dreamed: I was at the feast with the savages, but I could
see with incredible clarity my err: these savages had gentle souls that
shone with virtue; their earnest intention was to feed my feeble frame,
for they pitied me. I ate ravenously, participated in their merry
rejoicing and copulated fiercely with a nubile maiden as dark as mirk,
yet soft and warm as Nubilca’s caress. Strangely revitalized, I woke up
to peer through my shack window to the mainland, to once again spy a
cadre of wild folk yonder across the stream in their preparations. I
hastily performed the rite of dream-penitence for my sins of
imagination, for such were intolerable for a pilgrim of the Cult to
commit, let alone perpetrate in flesh. A sin of such severity would
demand no less than an immediate rite of self-submergence.
I once again skulked to the yard of my isle in hope of catching sight
in the horizon of the overdue provision vessel, and consequently to the
view of the savages, who, to my utter horror greeted me with
inconvenient geniality! A mad dash back to the shack, I curled up into
a ball of human flesh, and cried.
Today, I wait only for the deluge.
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ALL CONTENT HEREBY
DECLADED ASSETS OF HEIKKI KUUSIPALO / SKYE SKEN UNLESS OTHERWISE
DECREED. ALL RIGHTS THUS RESERVED.
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