LUGNET News : ~1112/Fantasy/Eidolon


Matt Hein / Fantasy / Eidolon

Chapter Five, New and Past Animosities

[Anachronistic_Skies] Editing attempt v- 1.0

Part One, Act One.

The chirping of birds could be heard in the distance of his confines, and the ever inherent resonance of activity in the corridors beyond it still vividly evident.

“Damn…” Dash spoke, as he awoke to discover himself sprawled on a resting linen cot, clad in his signature suit of Pit Raptor hide. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes with fatigue, the once stinging pain that had shot through his torso now subsided in its entirety.

His eyes closed, his internal senses adjusted to the environment around them, as he thought to himself the significance of these last few days.

How much time had passed since the obliteration of Lucaria? A second? Hour? Day? Month? Year? Aeon?

And yet, for that moment, he wondered to himself if the reality in which he perceived was entirely possible. Three days to pass by in such a blinding moment? And yet could this last week perhaps have constituted but one complete lunar cycle in the schematics of reality?

Surveying his environs, it seemed to the deacon as though he had finally emerged from the counter-reality In which he had perceived to had traversed. To him, there was seemingly no other explanation in sight. Perchance a dream?

Perhaps, he would open the door to this shelter to discover the lush grassy fields to the city of Lucaria, to see his wife and child once again? His parents, perchance? The beautiful citadel still standing in its glory, as though not a day had passed by to the gleaming crystal futuristic Manhattan?

He could not shrug these thoughts, but then again, it was the taxing burden of an intellectual to question all theory, no matter how remote the possibility. And, all facts pointed towards the truth in reality. His wife and child were dead, his parents slain for their heritage when he was but a child.

He had not a reason to believe otherwise, but standing in this room had little merit, so he gathered the strength to stand up, brushing the dirt off his suit, and walked towards the center of the room, each step from his boots creaking about the antique wooden floor.

By examining the confines of the room, Dash could only surmise that it had been rarely frequented by its tenants.

As the small exit hallway lie in the front of the area near a dresser, it seemed cluttered on both sides with broken shelves and a considerable stack of information and encyclopedic volumes piled in the corner, covered in a blanket of dust. Even the small and crude workstation, which sat in the corner near him seemed unoccupied, the lone incandescent light bulb yellowed with age.

But then again…Dash noticed an odd sense of familiarity about the room, as fond memories of it quickly flooded back into vision.

From his viewpoint, Dash cast a glance towards the countless shelves of hardcover books, which seemed to line every side of the room, saddening enough to him that such fine mediums of communication were considered to the world of mach speed, germanium computation chips and intellectual reason- obsolete. Centuries beforehand, books had gone in the same direction as Vacuum tubes, adding machines, silicon chips, film cameras and cellular phones down through the one lane road known affably as ‘history’.

Such fascinating inventions, and yet, it seemed odd to Dash that mankind would perfect one particular device, discover another method, and forget the ways of his past. To toss carelessly the achievements on one particular group of researchers into the bottomless pit of trivialities.

Saddening enough, Dash hypothesized humans were inherent perfectionists, and cared not for their past fallacies. Why read about yesterday when you can increase output today? Make use and manipulate the world about you, take opportunity and exploit all that you see, lest the next man take it!

What nonsense, Dash thought to himself.

He fondly recalled being enthralled by volumes such as these during his younger days, and stepped before one of the shelves as a particular object caught his eye from the side door, turning around to cast a glance towards it.

It seemed to emit an odd glint from an angle, as though some sort of object were pressed into it, or perhaps…

Perhaps an old eyeglass? People seldom left objects in the middle of their studies and neglected them…

Standing there in the brisk, yet still air, he could smell the distinct scent of ancient wood polish and bitter settled long ago, the incense like smell arousing yet more memories of excused furloughs he had taken to escape to the study, interested by the amount of unrestricted information at his hands, simply hidden and concealed within context, in which the state had little capacity to interrupt or monitor.

Browsing through ancient copies of Mercanter’s Guide to History and the Lancaster Chronicles Volume Six had grown the once naïve and arrogant agent into a cultured man, a process in which the state had greatest difficulty cultivating, in fears such a trait would lead to revolt and political dissent.

Glancing towards the door; a very unkempt and not the least bit tidy, he stepped short to procure from the rubble and chaos, a small black book from under a plank. Examining the ancient volume for some sort of title, he could only uncover a large amount of indecipherable white printing which adorned the cover.

Intriguing and mysterious as it seemed, Dash flipped open the volume carefully, as the volume revealed itself to be a scrap book, a compilation of ancient newspaper articles; several which were revealed to be somewhat recent.

And yet, flipping to its center, he discovered a small golden key, set inside an article published by the tribunal bureaucrat, the state dictated paper. A small sticky note appended to the top read:

Memo. Please review.

Odd enough, Dash looked into the article, scanning the print closely with his right mechanical eye, surprised a volume of collections could survive the state’s suppressive political tendencies. And yet, the key lie directly before him.

February 12th, 1967 Officials from ARWL violate agreement, forfeit chronological testing.

Northern Fordham plains- Facility No 12

Speaking on condition of anonymity, a research Scientist from the Albatross Research Weapons Licensing Facility revealed to the Tribunal Bureaucrat that rumors of a fellow member of staff divulging clandestine information to foreign mercantile parties was in fact, true.

The information, among newfound chronological studies mandated by the IRLCC Technologies and Futures committee dealt with the phenomena of time and space, in which some officials claim could be used for futuristic applications-although these very utilizations were not entirely specified.

The whistle blower, although now incarcerated in a top level government containment facility, has refused to speak with media circuits, despite threats from the IRLCC.

Members of the foreign party in question refused to comment on the affair. It is not currently known the extent of intellectual or economic damage imposed by the violations.

Procuring the key which seemed to glint in his hand from the faint light which flooded this quaint repository of forbidden intelligence, he eyed the ancient door which lie before him on rusty hinges.

Pressing the key into the knob and turning it with a quick but resonating click, the door creaked open on its rusty old hinges, to reveal the beckoning light of a further hall.

And yet, as he stepped into the hall which lie before him, Dash placed the old key in his pocket for safekeeping eyeing the long cedar balcony which gave an eagle’s eye view to the library below, the old door creaking tightly shut behind him from a sudden forcible burst of breeze from the archival room.

The deacon stopped short to look overhead the polished balcony casting a glance towards the near empty hallway below, as several students, though familiar, congregated. One of them had stringy silver hair, the other a female with black and golden streaks about her hair.

“You know…” She started, turning towards the male scholar, book in hand.

“Yeah, I know. The report listed him as killed in action…I couldn’t believe it…Did you read last night’s field summary in the tribunal? They found him shot to death north of Forthingham district twelve …after the…situation was diffused.”

“You procured a copy of the report, right?”

“I read about in the paper, but the overall details were quite vague…they mentioned the death of an ‘unidentified anarchist figure’…odd they would cast him in that specific light, eh? We were comrades, Kariss…”

“Aurant has quite a short address today. I wonder what’s wrong? He’s not usually so quiet. Odd, though that a man of such high rank would die in such obscurity.”

Kariss mentioned, as Osprey nodded.

“Osprey? Kariss?” Dash asked from his position, as he stepped towards them both cautiously, eyeing them with suspicion and disbelief, as they continued to talk about him as though he were but a memory.

“I still can’t believe it, though, you know. I trained in his military company for five years. Someone earlier professed a theory that Mister Aurant…”

“Aurant? I thought the KGF was responsible! After all, Dash took the political termination of Guarde into his own jurisdiction, remember? We bore witness!!”

As Dash began to slowly proceed downwards from the spiraling library staircase, approaching both scholars from the distance, he could survey the last of the morning traffic proceed from the library.

As several other students of the hall left with materials in hand, the intelligence office seemed strangely empty, save for a few sporadic administrators filing reports, and both students remaining at their studies.

“Osprey, Kariss! I command you to cease this!” Dash shouted, as his warnings carried little respect.

What the? Can they even hear me?

As Dash eyed him, he suddenly grey impatient, as he stepped closer to Kariss with general suspicion, speaking onece again.

“Look, would you listen for once! I had a really distorted dream…you see, last night…” He called, as Kariss continued to speak, the deacon stepping before her, and Osprey, as Kariss motioned towards one of the administrators, her hand traversing through him, as Dash jumped backwards in surprise.

“What the? My form…does not possess solidity?”

“We all know who’s responsible…you know, I bet it was a government conspiracy to remove him from Draken. Think about it! I could recall a lot of conflict between his company and the council of Military affairs, so why not? It could have been an organized hit strike authorized by Aurant to appease his chiefs of staff!”

“That’s impossible! He was a father figure to Dracon, and you know it! Come off it, Osprey! Such wild and speculative theories aren’t even accurate.”

“And why should we continue to live such a fallacious existence!? Can we not see the error of our ways, Kariss?”

“Look, we really shouldn’t be discussing this, though. Unlike several decades ago, this country isn’t free anymore…secret police are everywhere, and this discussion is probably illegal. Besides, I can’t risk losing my career over political speech.”

“So you would rather risk your integrity instead casting eyes away from the truth? The only truth the government propagates are lies! A spindled and intricate web of concealment and deception, and I shall no longer stand for such atrocities!”

“Quiet! Do you want them to hear you?! Let’s just forget about all of this and go back to class! Aurant would probably be displeased to know we question his words! Do you want to end up like Dash!?”

“I’m aware of the consequences, Kariss…and I wouldn’t think for a second otherwise. But I can’t seem to shake off these suspicions…Since Dash was a Hybrid, do you not believe this carried some form of merit in his termination? The chiefs of staff were rather…”

“Yeah, and that was our secret, wasn’t it? I mean, nobody else knew that he had a tail and crimson eyes…he wore contacts as well! I don’t even think Aurant knew…”

“But what about Aurant? Don’t you believe he would have known? Look at the facts! The enemy state is populated by Pedigrees, so the government could have planned some sort of vendetta against those who carried a similar pedigree as his? His father, Ludandrian was killed in a similar fashion…”

“That makes little sense, Osprey! His father was killed twenty years ago, and it was a political assassination headed by the KGF. I could retrieve you the official reports.”

“And the KGF did not claim responsibility for that particular political assassination, in contrast to the othertwenty killings carried out that year! Don’t you get it?”

“Sir, Miss? May I speak with you for a moment?”

An administrator called, as he stepped towards them, a look of shrewdness about his eyes, as one of the small micro lens cameras zoomed on them slightly from the entrance of the study library to the university. As he presented them his badge, he eyed Osprey darkly.

“I’d like to question you both separately...would you please step in this direction towards my office?”

“Sir, we need to get to class. I have my alchemical studies at transition eight, and he needs to report to the commissary for his weekly ration check.”

“That can wait...I’ll simply forward a call to your professors. We’ve been monitoring you both lately, and several of our detectives have recorded some rather…incriminating samples. Now, if you value your rights, please proceed in this direction.”

He spoke, motioning to the other austere security officer, as he stepped towards the terminal office, speaking to another administrator in a suit, as he looked at Osprey and Kariss darkly.

“Look, sir. I don’t want to do this…but…”

“I’ll send him proper notification.”

As Dash listened the string of events unfold, he could only theorize the events that lad led to his death…but he had never died in such a manner…or at least that in which he could remember.

Perhaps before that riot in Kasketua? No…

As he knelt to the ground, the room began to slowly distort around him, all acoustics fading to silence, the light fading to black and white, then caught in a vacuum of contrast, the force nearly throwing him back to the ground. With blinding streaks of light cascading towards him in a brilliant array, he gathered the strength to stand, shielding his face from the tempest of energy spiraling about him with his sleeve, as by some odd sense of binary process, another scene began to materialize about him again.

Chapter Five, Part One, Act Two

In this particular instance, he stood about the crystal thoroughfares of the futuristic state of Lucaria, spires of crystal skyscrapers and needle like glass turrets into the clouds, piercing the bleak sky which lie overhead.

As drops of water flew forth from the sky sphere that shielded the city overhead like that of an secondary atmospheric shell, he could survey jet black and crystal hover cars stream about the ionic trails ahead of them, as the azure flickering of their hydrogen burst engines cast from their emissions, sprays of steam towards several vapor needles positioned about the crystal turrets of the skyscrapers ahead.

And yet, standing in the center of the crystal highway, his sword sheathed on his back, he could see more businessmen and pedestrians walking about their daily duties, as several passed directly near him casting not a glance to his presence, as one of them even stepped through the deacon’s hollow existence, the resulting gust sending a chill about his skin.

The convective street beacons still faintly glowing, he could even survey the torrents of the water purification channels flowing below the transparent thoroughfare, as a compact hover car flew directly overhead him towards the clouds in the sky, its engine barely sputtering in the breeze.

Stepping towards one of the older 20th century skyscrapers, Dash spotted an odd looking individual sitting one of the old wrought iron benches, aside a pool of water and an aerial hover car parking sign, which signified the sky docks below him, and a Solex data pavilion.

As he sat innocuously reading an old and ragged newspaper, several civilians passed by him without notice, as though he were not physically present in their vision.

For such a traveler, he appeared to Dash as an enigma, as he looked up from his newspaper, folding the article and setting it aside, as he stood up, the old rain deflector ruffling about the breeze, as he took off his fedora cap.

Dash paid little heed to the man, as he continued to step towards the towering crystal turret off into the distance, as the ancient building hutted into the clouds, glassy reception needles scattered about its mainframe in a spiraling fashion, hover cars buzzing about like birds, as several entered via the shy sphere shielding, sporadic streams of amber light piercing about the clouds.

And yet, standing there in stark admiration of his environs, a voice pierced the commotion, calling forth a name he had not heard in years, ever since his induction of the Draken, when his political existence was stripped.

“So, there you are, Rezka Masahiro Shaw Blake III, also known as Dash Dracon, patron to the Draken syndicate, and friend of the Anarchist theatre, Antioch. Son of Ludandrian Blake, former associate of the KGF, and patron to the state…I’ve been expecting you to show for quite a long time…let’s see…”

He spoke casually, pulling out an antique chained pocket watch from his robe, casting a glance at the old dial.

“What?!” Dash asked, completely stunned, as he attempted to assert what the man had just spoken, regaining his composure.

“My god…how the hell do you acquire my dossier?! I demand to know the truth! You’re an agent of the KGF, aren’t you? Tell me! I demand an answer!”

He shouted, drawing forth his caliber, as he pointed the glinting blade at the man’s neck, his hand at its trigger, and his eyes tense, as the man remained steadily calm, holding his ground, as he grinned slightly.

“Examining my chronometer, I’ve been standing here waiting for you to show up for three days. You’re a very elusive man, Rezkalla…or shall I call you Rezka? Mister Blake? My sources say you prefer to Be called Osprey, but that’s your brother’s name.. well, half-brother anyway…”

He remarked, chuckling, as he offered the man a cigarette, Holding out his small pocket lighter.

“You need a light, Mr. Blake? Surveying your scuffed face, it seems as though you’ve been through perdition and back…”

“I have no need to smoke…I kicked that habit years ago…”

“Ah now! I see many years have shaped you into a more refined and disciplined man…something the state must have coveted greatly. Ah, but accept my formalities as a token…”

“Very well…” Dash spoke, as the man lit the cigarette, handing it to him, as he drew in a breath or two of the smoke. It had been quite a long time since the last time he had graced himself with a cigarette, as it sort of quelled and extinguished the fires of anxiety that burned within him, the smoke somewhat calming, as though it acted as a suppressant of his worries.

“Thanks for the cigarette, but could you at least divulge to me the identity of your source, as your evasion to such an action only makes my more skeptical of the truth…”

“And for the sake of my sacred trust between contacts, I shan’t reveal them…I’m sure you’re quite familiar with the code of honor?“

“I was quite a fond advocate of that state of mind, but no longer… I harbor little trust towards governments of censorship and deception…”

“Ah, but I don’t patronize or endorse such political entities…I’m sure you have many questions on hand, so I shall answer several of them.”

The man spoke, as he turned around looking towards the crystal reception tower ahead of him, several bystanders passing him, as Dash stepped closer.

“You procured the book, didn’t you?”

“What about it? Are you speaking of the book I found in…”

“The archival room, yes…would you hand me it, please?”

Dash suddenly grew defensive, as he eyed the man with scrutiny, his hand still on the hilt of his caliber.

“I’d prefer to keep my hands on it…unless you’d rather speak to me about your sources…”

“This is not a time to be conniving! Surely you do not mean this for humorous purpose?!” He asked, as Dash kept the blade at the ready.

“I see people of the future are citizens of opportunity… trained in the ways of chicanery and agility to achieve their ways…so is the path of society, I guess… what do you wish to know?”

“As I said, about your sources, and why you covet this book so greatly…rather interesting you would place so much value in such a simply compendium of information, unless it has some sort of significance…”

As the man turned around, he stepped short of the data pavilion, still calm, as he spoke.

“Very well, as I was saying…I was explaining about your predicament. Mister Blake, two millennia ago, there was a great war, right…what do you believe occurred as a result of it?”

“I’d surmise great biological damage…”

“Greater than that…the genetic lineage of most of the world was greatly corrupted, and so as the lines of a projected history as well!”

“You’re acting on the supposition that history was supposed to progress in only one fashion, and reach a predetermined destination. That’s complete nonsense!”

“Is it, though? Think about it? How so is it possible that great leaders can rationalize to such a great extent in times of peril? Is it inherent skill? Luck? No! It was our intervention!”

“What the hell do you mean by ‘our’? You’re implying that history is closely controlled? If life forms are completely variable on their actions, how so can you intervene? You’re staring that reality now is the result of your own fallacies?”

“I don’t wish to reveal any more of this further… enough damage has been done to the controllable world to the extent of irreversibility! How so do you believe you survived childhood without being discovered and killed by the state for your lineage? Sheer luck? Hah! It was our intervention that saved you from perdition!”

“Then it was your intervention that led me to the future world, a region in which you never intended to exist? Those statements are conflicting.”

“You traversed outside of our jurisdiction...your own actions set off the course of nuclear war… if you had never joined the Antioch theatre, and instead rallied for the Draken, your people would have eventually attained independence.”

“That’s a full blown lie! How can you prove such a fact? Was it inherently wise to side with an oppressive regime, simply for my welfare? The oppression of my people would have continued! Inequality would still exist! I could not stand there idly and wait!””

“Very well…I can see your point clearly…but since this situation cannot be reversed, let us leave it at that, shall we? In actuality...”

“And what do you define as ‘actuality’? Are you simply insisting this entire city does not exist? That this is simply is a hallucination? A dream, or a synthesized vision predefined from an unknown source and projected into my perception of it!?”

“Close…very close, actually, but not exactly…of course, my explanations may have little merit, as there is subtle chance mankind could even yet comprehend the magnitude of such knowledge…”

He spoke, as his tone changed rather slightly, casting a glance beck towards him with his violet eyes.

“But…you’re different from the others. Your aura has an odd resonance about it, a shining beacon of light in this rather dim and bleak world…the prowess that flows throughout your blood is stellar, as though you exist in perfect synchronization and harmony between man and machine. A product of both Purebred technological antics, yet the conceptual philosophy of the Antipode race. You’re one of the few I considered worthy to possess the chrysalis medium…”

“You mean that pendant you gave me in the tattered old cardboard box? What do you exactly find so important about it, anyway? It’s simply a sapphire pendant, no more, no less…and the others? Why did you forsake them? They implied that I was the victim of a government vendetta, but I do not recall being killed! Unless, all of that was a hallucination! Tell me!”

“The others were eclipsed…they were corrupt, and hence, I could not release the chrysalis to them. Anyhow, I only served as the medium to seek the one the chrysalis chose! Such individuals as your half brother, Osprey and Piel Guarde were likely candidates, but the chrysalis forsake them!”

“What do you mean. ‘forsake’? Are you implying that such a stone possesses its own respective will? If so, how is this inherently possible? And, you did not answer my question thoroughly!”

“I cannot reveal the biological mechanics beyond the chrysalis, as the offspring of its code have yet to unlock such an enigma. As for the entities it chose, they were corrupt in their own manner, so the chrysalis decided to reject them as a potential curator. And for the record, yes, you were killed in southern Faiye during the great war.”

“If you mean to say the chrysalis rejected many because of the evident fact of their corruptness, why then would it choose me if I were equally corrupt as well? I admit to taking sword against enemy influence in the name of my government! And how is it possible that to die, I would simply traverse here?”

“I’d rather not explain it…”

“You failed to mention the fact that Osprey renounced his previous ways. Look, could you please tell me why you paid so much discretion towards the selection of the holder of the chrysalis? What, if anything, constitutes the sanctity of it?”

“You probably heard the story right? Long ago, two thousand years ago, there was a great technological empire…the world was at its zenith in reason, but political corruptness soon divided it into a region of resent and trepidation. Soon, the technology used at once to propel the peoples into prosperity, served only to drive them into the oblivion of war and conflict. Weapons with the power of a thousand suns Streaked about the skies, alighting them with ravaging fire, as country sides and public thoroughfares alike were obliterated in a deluge of perdition…and therein, lie the scarred remnants of a biological order for a millennia…”

“What about the story? A lot of it seems rather fictitious to me. Besides that fact, very few traces of the destruction still exist in the future…”

“And the future was never meant to occur, as I said before…the rifts emitting from the multiple bursts of such weapons completely altered the chronology, an aftermath effect my jurisdiction never considered.”

“Then you’re responsible for most of my assassination attempts? It wasn’t an integral plot by the KGF? They were simply a mechanism placed to divert my scrutiny towards? How very clever…”

“Yes, I admit to organizing attempts to kill you. But, my failure only meant increased incentive to preserve your existence, as my intervention was no longer possible…now, a future is entirely variable, based on the decisions of others… Therefore I can no longer serve as curator. As a calculated act, you were the only person who I saw fit…the only truly veracious entity I could entrust the chrysalis to…”

“You were speaking about the biology as well? How is it possible that all existence could be Obliterated for a millennia, and then proliferate itself from nothingness once again?”

“That is the true secret to the genetic code… but this again points to the resulting chronological lapse, which was a resultant of the nuclear damage imposed about the land. In just a blink of history, a billion years of trial and error evolution occurred within just a millennia, the offspring of such an evolution possessing more intellectual and puissant qualities… as a result, true purebreds and antipodes no longer exist about the world, consequently only those of hybrid lineage prevalent…Fantastic creatures were bred from those ashes...”

“So this leads us right back to the origins of the biology of my world, then?”

“Yes, the universe acts in great ways, doesn’t it? For such creatures to evolve towards that eerily reminiscent of mythological connotations as their environs saw suiting...I was awe stricken myself, but alas, it is shrouded in futility.”

“Wait a moment?! Justly due to your lack of jurisdiction, how can you simply surmise futility if given little chance to survey it?”

“Look, I meant not to imply anything other than the fact that the spiritual universe differs greatly from the physical and material existence! Think of the universe simple as a vast ocean, an oblivion of nothingness, save for stars sporadically scattered about the ethereal plane, each and every one of them reflecting a particular aura of a biological entity. When a star is born from its scattered environs, a living creature perishes from the grounds, the spirit of itself drifting towards the next plane of reality. And, consequently, when a star dies, another life is borne again into the physical world…you are simply a spirit drifting without existence...but the chrysalis has decided to preserve your existence, using my spirit. Your own actions have ceased my own existence, therefore my future never existed, and I am therefore rendered an entity without spiritual essence.”

“Than…you took upon yourself the trust to preserve my existence? But why?”

“The past is irreparable and indelible…I have not a future or even a shadow…over a span of time, I have began to deteriorate into nothingness, a former shadow of myself…I cannot explain any further, as that would…”

He suddenly paused, as he eyed him darkly, a sense of fatigue about him.

“…everything you see and hear before you, the skyscrapers and citizenry, acoustics and skies of this fine city... they are all synthetic, mere projections of every memory and sight you have ever experienced…in simplicity, this event never occurred in reality! But enough with inherent explanation…I must…bid you adieu sir…”

The man spoke, as he stepped away from Dash, His robe blowing about the wind, as he faded in the air, not an essence of his figure remaining.

“Sir?!” Dash called into the wind, as he stood in the middle of the crystal thoroughfare, civilians and military personnel all purely nonexistent and randomly generated from some sort of abstruse force passed him by, his world once again engulfed in contrasting light, as he fell to his knees.

And yet, his suit ruffled about the wind greatly, as everything immediately became engulfed in an intense blinding light, then, faded entirely into darkness, as Dash once again lost all consciousness, drifting into the depths of oblivion.

Fin, Act Two

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