《Wings》Fog
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As Jake gazed across the foggy covered mouldy wooden houses and slick bridges, large and small metal cages were either hanging above the walkways, piled in large groups and sat alone. The thing that was the most noticeable however, after looking at the slaver’s outpost, the group saw no one. Empty cages, broken doors, shattered windows and bones were all that were left of this place. Once the realisation that the slaver camp, probably slave market, hit the group, they felt to various degrees of relief and concern.
They all gathered on the deck discussing their current situation with the female Traced speaking up and saying in disbelief “So we are on ancient ship, in a random swamp, about to be sold at an empty slave market. How much worse can things get?”
It starts raining.
“Fine, it can still get worse.”
Cracks of thunder and lightning can be seen and heard all around.
“I’ll shut up.”
“Well now that it is raining and either we are either completely safe or soon to be incredibly dead, who wants to go inside?” The Serena clan Winged asked. Everyone agreed and followed her into the Bridge of the flying ship. Inside it was unique looking, considering that the ship itself was likely one of a kind. The interior was covered in grey runes with panels hanging from the roof showing camera footage displaying various sections of the vessel, including the brig, and a detection system. Various control panels lined the sides of the ship. Oddly enough, there was a large, indented circle in the centre which likely was for the captain. The bridge also had a large window which currently, had no view due to the current conditions.
After they all sat in silence for a few minutes the Starred spoke up. “So, who wants to do a meet and greet sort of thing since we are all in this together?”
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“Guess we don’t got much else to do.” The Serena replied. “I’ll go first, my name is Jane Serena. I got caught while fighting of the fuckers the attacked us.”
The Ruby went next. “Names Zane Ruby. Here for the same reasons as Jane.”
“John Chrys. I was part of the rescue crew that went to help the downed Winged when we were attacked, and I got snagged as I was the last one to leave.”
The two Humans were next up and the woman spoke first. “I’m Lilly and this is my husband Jesse. We are both archaeologists that were exploring an ancient ruin deep underground when we found this ship. When worked out how to get it to function, our team was ambushed and we were captured, the rest of our team was killed or taken.” Jesse spoke up. “They ‘convinced’ us as they called it, to teach them how to pilot and control the ship.”
Jesse spoke next. “It was horrible, they started with torturing our friends in front of us until we broke.” No one was willing to continue this chat till the Starred followed up. “I go by Glaze Scorpius. I was practising elemental magic with my brother and sister before we were ambushed. I lead our captors away to protect them and I was captured. And before you ask, this ship restricts magic preventing even small-scale spells from being easily performed. I would like to know why but that can come later.”
Jake spoke next. “My name is Jake Igneous and I got caught trying to help protect my people after our warriors were downed. I was able to help rescue some but clearly” as he gestures to Jane, John and Zane, “It wasn’t enough.”
The Traced spoke up in a timid voice. “M-my name is Frey, and while I was working in my family’s forge when a cloaked figure entered and as I went to greet him, I blacked out and woke up trapped in that prison with a rather painful headache.”
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The Clawed stood last and anxiously spoke. “Gonna be honest, I don’t know what my name is and I don’t know what happened to me. I just remember waking up here soooooo, yeeeeah.” The rest of the group just stared at him like he was joking only to slowly realise he wasn’t.
“Well we need to call you something.” Jesse stated, much to everyone, especially Lilly’s surprise. As they just looked at him. “What? We do. Why are you all thinking there is something wrong with that?”
“Well why don’t we just call him Wolf? That’s what he is so why not just stick with.” Jake suggested.
“Is that all you could think of?” Jane stated in a humours tone. “That’s like calling a fucken goldfish fishy.”
“Let’s just go with that then unless someone’s got a better idea and let us try this again.” As Wolf took everyone’s attention and upon seeing empty faces, “My name is Wolf and I still have no idea how I got here.”
**********
During the time all the now acquaintances got to know each a bit more, the fog encircled the ship as the storm raged on. By the time Wolf was named, you would be lucky to see your nose in the fog let alone the figures who were standing on the ships deck. As the minutes passed into hours and the rain finally ceased, the fog had crawled its way into the bridge to the surprise of the 9 figures within. A sudden crash signalled the door was no longer on its hinges and rather on the floor in pieces.
Entering the bridge was a figure with golden eyes, grey specks of light covering black lines that spanned all across its body, standing with silver wings and had cat ears and tail gazed upon the 9 figures currently experiencing a variety of emotions before suddenly slightly panicking.
All the figures started to take a defensive stance. The ones who represent freedom all grouped at the front to protect the others while the ones who represent instinct, scripture, constellation and form all stayed behind them. A smirk appeared on the figures face as she gazed upon them while raising her arm and casting a spell.
8 of the 9 collapsed leaving the last standing in surprise and fear. The figure pointed at the remaining figure who suddenly found it hard to stand. As the figure increased the pressure, the 9th finally succumbed to her might and fell with the others. The figure walked about the collapsed induvial drawings a rune on each of the backs using the blood of the revolting one trapped in the cage below deck. Walking to the door, the fog cleared to reveal the ancient figure and as she gazed upon her work, she smirked before leaving out the door and letting the fog conceal her once more.
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The First Corridor of Old Works
But what is it, really? Old Works. They say, some do anyway, or would, if they still had tongues - it's a dream. That it's a million year old mystery connecting three planets. Some, yet other, anonymous entities, charge that it's a structure, more accurately, an architecture - a quest, even, made from, and through - corridors. Pretty inarguably, for one thing, it's a maze. Even some pronounce, if you can understand those currently vomiting blood, that it's a corporation, and yet others - the brave ones – and dead - say it's... near death. Or that it is. Death. - Death itself. But that dark thing on the horizon, that thing emerging to replace the only system we... know. - Whatever it is it couldn't be the end, of everything, could it? Eminently possible, but - it couldn't be worse? 3 civilisations/3 planets... and Old Works. 4 heroes: The Cyclops seeing out his Eye the reality of that place - and by means of that vision - greasing the many-toothed gears of that great old churning nightmare. The Writer sweating to keep the story alive that supports the great old lying structure. The Fake King who abides among all those tunnels of dreams and lies and dreams and... slaves. And the Hero Dreamt, all those slaves - to maintain that structure's even functioning, have to - at all... they dream him. They literally dream him. But that thing, from whence, who knows, arriving? What kind of sick demonic mind could even - But it can only be psychosis - Or possession. Reducing all of reality to some kind of – what would you call it? A Game? A video... joke? And that half-Cyclops, that beauty – what does she have growing – beneath her supernatural genitals? A game for him? A game/a dream; a – world? Or just Old Works. And this Wound in reality – that our writer near-died putting inside her. What is it anyway? And what reality does it bring with it. This demon or God. Through the corridors; lattices of smoke and shadows and colours; dungeons; and supernatural organs; the labyrinths made from dreams... and flesh. - What happens when they face that Wound – staring the absolute. right. in. them? - Through - What happens to all us... slaves... then? But at the end of the hallway, you see it there, I say you do, that turning - It's only the First Corridor of Old Works. This finished 104,000 word kind of LITRPGy fantasy novel, the First Corridor of Old Works will be released in daily 2000 word chapters, or equivalent [unfailingly at 20:47 GMT] Immediately followed by the Second Corridor of Old Works [161,000 words, edited, ongoing, as of 24/09/21] At first lite on stats these LITRPGy elements will become increasingly - built meticulously upon what precedes - ubiquitous, as we proceed into a world painstakingly built to support these mechanisms. After - minimum - 6 months, this manic daily release schedule will be somewhat relaxed: 5 days a week. - But don't lie to yourself it's not there. That thing watching at the end of the hallway... and where it leads. It's - Of countless, it could only be - The First Corridor of Old Works.
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