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God of the Godless

The Carver has existed for multiple eternities, exceeding me by at least four. The original Dekn would call on him to follow in the steps of the Golden City’s master creator/builder, the architect of what souls once felt to be emotions. Of the emotions, there exist Gods and Goddesses that govern ideals found within them. The two explained to me by the great Arkn, Xetheial, were astounding. While the Joys seemed to focus on less formidable souls, the Feared ones were always present for the special players. While the Feared ones existed Godless as their own Gods, there were those that opposed them, denied them of their reason. The Joys found solace in keeping the Feared ones away from most souls, but the Dekn sealed the deal by creating a link with Hash’bor’kanibal; The Carver. This Dekn is seen to the Joys as the Fear of Fears. One that exists so those avoiding them can never truly escape. It can take the form of any conscious being from any existence aware of it, including the Fears. This makes it formidable in dealing with souls who have kept an innate fear of the Feared ones, but never enough to call them down. The Feared ones see Hash’bor’kanibal as the Joy of Torment, a sadistic Dekn that exists to take away all they stand for, and stand for all they despise. It is unknown the reach of this entity, and its motive remains unclear. It exists to be. Simply and only that. The Carver soon enough became emperor to the Dekn. He ruled in perfection, with no decision coming halfassed. The Carver was not just a force to fear, the Carver was a God to pray to.

#the-carver #lore #Hash'bor'kanibal #nomoretruths #fears #joys #arkn #dekn #Xetheial

The Factory (5-2)

The Carver returned in an instant with a human arm. I was too busy writhing in agony to see it appear back near me. The creature picked me up and slammed me down onto my cot. I couldn’t move. The Carver began to slowly stitch the arm onto my stub, disregarding my screams of pain and for mercy. Several eternities seemed to have passed before it finished. The flesh arm hung from my stump and continued to bleed. The Carver spoke ” a gift from my father “

It began to laugh maniacally before a metal hatchet ran its way into the Carver’s skull, splitting it. The monster shrieked in sudden pain and reeled around, facing the attacker. The attacked let out an unsettling, hellish, monotone, giggle.

(I am going to have trouble describing my savior, but here goes nothing.)

My savior stood, hatchet in hand, grinning at the Carver with a quite unsettling mask, that surely could pose as its own face were I to have failed in observation. Its theatre-mask face stared the monster down. The void sockets where eyes would and should have been seemed empty. The grey-blue jeans and dress-shoes might have complemented its stripped beanie, had it not been for the black hoodie covering night-black skin, much like my own.

In a flash, I was outside, coughing and choking on the grey, dusty terrain. To my left I turned to see Scabs and my savior poking each other with separate sticks. I would assume I was saved, but even as I sit in this tent, watching my savior stare at me from its sitting stump, I worry.

What do I do now? What is my purpose?

My trek back home will begin shortly.

#nomoretruths #the-Factory #the-savior #the-carver

The Factory (5-1)

The first Denizen came in through the cracked glass. Unlike water, the Void does not seek to occupy volume, so it remained outside. The greyish, translucent, veiny flesh of the fish-like creatures with human features became quickly matted with blood from the newbies. I could not turn away from the Carver. My eyes were fixed into his own, as if being forced not to watch, turn away, or help those being torn apart and condemed. The screams were deftening, and yet, my body worked against me. I began moving towards the Carver, inch by inch. In the reflection of the room’s surface, I could see Len gutted and degloved. I stifled vomit. Theodore had already moved back to help the others, but was no where in sight. I could see the test room open with Scabs holding his own against one of the Denizens. A scalpel fastened onto a bar it was grasping was clearly matching the Void creature’s speed. I was not worried. (Ten steps from the Carver) My body became stiff, but carried on as a puppet to its master. (Nine steps from the Carver) The glass was now fully shattered and the Denizens were tearing apart the newbies. (Eight steps from the Carver) I saw Moslee lurch towards one only to be caught in the neck by its sharp claws, and promptly decapitated. I’m so sorry Mo’. (Seven steps from the Carver) Scabs has poked the Denizen enough to where it has moved away from him and is busy tearing organs out of another newbie. (Six steps from the Carver) His smile widened, showing dagger-like teeth and a snake-like tongue glittering around in its abysmal maw. (Five steps from the Carver) The gate was now shimmering brighter than I had ever seen it, and was shaking. Shame we’d never get to see what would come out of it. The Carver reached out a bladed hand in front of my face. It smiled again. (Four steps from the Carver) The world seemed to stop. The tearing of flesh and cracking of bone, the screams. I felt an unseen force begin to lurch me at the bladed hand of the Carver. My throat would have been impaled and my blood spilt had something not leaped in the way of the Carver’s pull.

I saw Borchk’undal twitching, bleeding a black fluid from the blade of my assailant. It squeaked one last time, and died. My eyes burned. My body burned. I was a pit of rage and hatred. Suddenly I was grabbed. The Carver held me by the throat and turned me around to see Montegue being torn apart by the Denizens, screaming and crying. The gate shook and light came out of it.

The Carver turned me to face the hideous smile again. I wanted to scream, to fight. It took hold of my hand and began to lift my arm up, above my head. With a sudden pull, my arm was popped from the shoulder that held it. I screamed, it gagged me with a wad of black substance from its mouth, shot into my own. I felt it slowly begin to pull, the flesh of my arm giving way, slowly. The tendons, muscle, flesh began to tear. Black goo prevented me from screaming. I felt my arm tear from the bicep.

The Carver smiled and held what was once my arm in front of his face. It spoke “He’ll need this”

Out of the gate came a blinding ray of energy. Something was coming out. ———————————————————————

#nomoretruths #the-Factory #the-Carver

The Factory (4)

I woke up with Scabs poking me with a toothpick. The guards outside shouting alerted me to the little scamp’s escape. I got out of bed, swatting the roach of my pants. they busted in, familiar faces. I laughed and readied my high-five. Len Flick, one of the veteran’s here, greeted me with with a hug. “Cedric you son of a bitch, you came back”! I high-fived the second veteran with him. A man of mystery, a survivor going on 2 months, I have grown fond of this man, if not for his time here. ‘Theodore Hall’ returned my high-five. I inquired what was the matter and Montegue stepped forward. “You need to come with us, now”. ——————————————————————— The vets were calming, but discerning at the same time. We arrived at the gate, and, to my surprise, the Denizens were all against the transparent outerwall, blocking out the black of the void with their horrid, veiny bodies. Montegue looked at them, and back to me. He explained that the gate has something to do with this. Confused, I took a step towards it and looked in; swirling grey matter greeted my sight. “They have never done this before.” Montegue looked all but terrified. His eyes blank and expressionless. “It’s time Cedric. We knew it was going to happen. It’s why we were raptured in. To die.” I was accepting but I knew this was the cycle. The Factory is a personal Hell, resetting every rapture. If I would have known I had come at that time. There is no stopping this. I’m sorry Monte, Len. I’m so sorry Moslee. I tried to keep spirits up. “Well, at least you all didn’t have cockroaches in your bunk, haha”.

Montegue’s expression suddenly changed. “Insects… can not survive in this enviornment”.

We rushed to my bunk just in time to see the door swing open and watch the Carver step out. For the first time in forever, it spoke. ” Hello, brother “ ———————————————————————

The glass began to shatter

#nomoretruths #the-Factory #the-Carver

Roadtrip (5-1)

We made it to the bunker with very little troubles (scabs continued to get distracted by anything and everything). First Night is young and I have very little to do, so rather than waiting, we'll take a rest her for a few hours and head off for the Factory. It is very close. My only worry is that the Carver followed me.

#nomoretruths #the-cricket #the-factory #the-Carver

Roadtrip (4-2)

After two days the Cricket has gained my trust. It is just like little Borchk'undal now. I have taken to naming it Scabs, as its bandages and makeshift clothing seems to be covering up hardened scars. Leaving the car, I will have to hike to the next checkpoint; an old bunker used during the firebombing that took place. Aside from that, the Carver has followed me. I know for I have noticed various scared animals that seem to gravitate towards my proximity. I am not yet worried, more so curious. I it dare follow me to the Factory, no good will come from whatever outcome exists. I can only hope that our on-foot (and finger leg) journey will be less eventful than the car ride. With the crimson moon beating darkness heavily down during this Second Night, one may see why I'm a little itchy about this.

#nomoretruths #swiper #the-cricket #scabs #the-carver #the-factory

Inside

I woke up to snarls and laughter last night. I was in the Drain. They were watching me, as I watched them. Hiding from the light as their pale flesh and empty eyes grinned a sinister grin upon my very soul. One of them caressed my cheek, i bled. They began laughing and shouting. 'Terrified' is an understatement. The large one from before rose out of the gunk, and looked at me with its smiling, gaping maw. It spoke, but I could not hear. The Carver came out of the darkness, attired with bullhorns and his wicked, forked tongue. I could not look away. The creatures all stared at me, and I could feel my sanity fade. In that instant, as soon as I were about to slip into the abysmal pool of madness, a light came through. The Drain lit up for a second; bodies piled and made up every square inch of the walls and floors. The Carver smiled and walked into the darkness. The creatures began to scream. "Arkk'n'edrix'mish'contes'narthosec" I awoke in my bed, victim of my dreams, my fear. I cut my cheek shaving fifteen minutes later.

#the-drain #nomoretruths #the-carver