Fowl chirping, rivers flowing, wind breezing past.
Through the great, green plains they went, with songs of grand feats and adventures spilling from their lips.
Boots thudding against the soft and gentle earth - Mother Nature’s gift to Terra.
Clouds, lazily pastured by the shepherd of the sky, seeping by and fading into the pale blue yonder to be reborn yet another day - in another world, in another reality.
Beasts screeching, steel clanking, wind howling in pain - the harbinger of misery.
The deep bogs and lush forests, treacherous by nature, endorsed by the will to consume and digest. Silence in the stuffy air, broken only by an amphibian’s ominous croaking.
Boots stuck in the mud, grasped by the will of the land - Mother Nature’s honest mistake - a sinister mockery of a land that once sprouted flowers so bright.
Fog, brought upon by forces unknown to mankind, herded from the depths of hell onto the surface to plague the travelers and lead them astray.
Sky tearing, world ending, wind tearing them limb from limb.
Traversing through mountains, navigating catastrophes without a messenger nor a guide. Thick scarves and shawls wrapped around their heads, incentive yells pathing the way forward.
Steep ravines, oceans of sand, mountains of black falling from the heavens - Nature’s shameful disgrace - the killing force that reaps by the millions.
Yet, at the end of the day, nothing but salvation awaited the wicked.
Under the twin moons’ watchful gaze, a teeny tiny, makeshift town of bedrolls and tents laid amongst the unmoving orange dunes. Pumping with life like an organism of its own, each little sector was a biological structure within itself - The weary food hoarders in the northern wing, keeping the place fed and distributing energy, like a restless liver. The trails of lazy mercs sprawled across the warm sand, consuming their chow, gobbling down like the place’s starving bowel. The puppeteers behind the operation, gathered under a silk tepee-like tent, thinking through their next big move - the brain and nerves, accompanied by patrolling lookouts, the eyes and ears.
And in the middle of it all, the very heart of the settlement kept beating out a tune of laughter, music and lively gossip. A large pile of drywood set aflame laid in a dug out ditch, numerous devils gathered around to frolic and spend the night indulging in degeneracy.
The organism’s ever flowing blood - hard alcohol.
Andy sat amidst the wicked, swaying from side to side and staring into the flames. What was he expecting to see? Maybe the fire’s gaze matching his own.
Words, expressions, streams of unintelligible mumbling flowing all around, like a last, fleeting warm breeze of August, barely grazing his ears - rushing in, sliding past his brain and immediately seeping out.
His gaze flew upward, towards the pale black yonder. How brightly the stars shone here, in the endless desert. As much as he enjoyed the lush forests and wide, open plains surrounded by the mighty Kazdelian mountains, there was something about this never ending patch of sand, stretching out for miles on end. Something that made him feel so childishly insignificant and small - in the best way possible.
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"Goodbye Curly Head"
FanfictionThrough thick and thin the Law shall prevail. A new sense of purpose awaits us, children of light, in the land where it all began. The darkness in which we once cowered in fear, now curbed by the might of our endless light. Come, brothers, come, sis...
