#the electric insectoid horror

[weaselle]

i miss this. I've just been in such a non-creative rut for the last few years. But i'm just starting to break out of it lately. Even started a bone sculpting project a few weeks ago (processing the bones is talking several weeks as it turns out)

Anyway i saw a post on here yesterday that got me briefly interested in my old video game idea and the artist who posted it just agreed to let me commission them to do concept art for it and i'm getting pretty excited about it!

So it's time to go back through and reconnect with Starsys 9 my dream video game project.

It combines a mix of genres, so players can be like, a cyborg human piloting a robot mech, or an alien beast creature, or an elven vampire necromancer, etc.... playing these diverse characters in a MOBA ARPG with FPS and RTS elements.

(please excuse my "drawings", you can see why i'm excited to commission someone for some better concept art)

there are 3 factions: Cyberians, the Sporeborn, and Dimenkind

Cyberians - humanoid cyborgs that often pilot robot mech suits

Sporeborn - Different alien species (many insectoid) all unified through infection by a sapient fungus

Dimens or Dimenkind - fantasy/horror genre characters like dwarves and werewolves that are pulled from other dimensions by godlike cthulhuic trans-dimensional beings (hence the name Dimens, from the word dimension, but also like demons)

each faction requires some but not all of the resources available on the planet, (water, organic hydrocarbons, minerals/metal, sulfur, methane) and they fight for access to, or control of, these resources. Resources typically need to be harvested and processed, and each faction has special installations/work units to do this.

Each faction has access to specific types of damage, with some overlap. Each faction tends to have weakness to certain damage types and resistance to certain damage types. Cyberians do: kinetic(bullets)/explosive/physical (melee)/electric/laser Sporeborn do: plasma/physical (melee)/chemical/biological Dimenkind do: physical (melee)/elemental/magic damage/curse damage (debuffs)

The total effect of resource needs, damage weaknesses, damage resistance, and damage capabilities results in a sort of nesting doll system of rock/paper/scissors relationships

Each faction maintains a control zone, in which their dominant resources are provided to player characters for free in AOE dispersal fields.

Cyberians use relay beacons to broadcast resources as particle beams made of individual atoms to be reconstructed into materials. Sporeborn use spore piles to waft clouds of spores that provide sporeborn characters with resources, and Dimens use altars that generate large circles of magic energy.

Another key feature of the game is team-leading. Each player has a certain number of points to spend on npc supports that are assigned to them. There are three size classes of support, each size class costs a different number of points, so a player can choose how to spend their support points to have a whole bunch of small supports, or one of each size, or one big one and a few small ones etc. Some skill tree options increase the number of points available to spend on supports.

Cyberian supports are droids and bots, Sporeborn supports are spore-infected alien animals, and Dimen supports are goblins and zombies and trolls and things.

personal npc supports can be given complex commands using a communication wheel. Leveling up increases the number and complexity of these commands

Each faction's control zone also has unassigned npc supports wandering around doing control zone maintenance and upgrade tasks. Players can temporarily command a couple of these unassigned npcs, as players raise their rank they increase the number of npcs they can claim in this way. These npcs can only be given a small number of very basic commands. However, they can be put under the control of the players personal supports, assigned to perform the same behaviors as that support unit, who can then be given the more complex commands. In this way groups of unassigned npc supports can be deployed by player characters to perform complex maneuvers as a unit.

Additionally, each faction has a technique for taking over command of enemy npcs. Dimens can raise dead npcs, Cyberians can hijack npcs trekie-borg style, and Sporeborn can infect npcs with their fungal spores

There is a lot more (character class breakdowns, huge portions of additional gameplay mechanics like how the RTS elements work, i even wrote a short story as a kind of trailer to introduce the game and showcase a sort of vibe for it) but this post is long enough already

#starsys 9 #starsys9 #star system 9

[jadegretz]

Power Girl: Icon of Grace by Jade Gretz

The portal yawned open like a cosmic maw, spitting Power Girl out onto a landscape that defied description. Gone were the familiar neon hues of Metro City, replaced by an unnatural twilight that cast grotesque shadows over twisted, obsidian cliffs. The air vibrated with an unsettling hum, seemingly carrying the whispers of a thousand tormented souls.

"Kara?" Her own voice echoed hollowly, bouncing off the otherworldly silence. Panic gnawed at her, fueled by the unnatural chill that seeped through her suit. This wasn't another interdimensional smuggling operation gone wrong; this was something altogether different, something primal and terrifying.

Suddenly, a guttural shriek pierced the silence, followed by the thrashing of unseen limbs. Her hand instinctively twitched towards the power ring, a beacon of familiarity in this unsettling unknown. Yet, despite the reassuring weight, a tremor of fear ran through her.

Following the sound, she cautiously ascended a jagged black path, the wind whipping her golden hair into a frenzy. Emerging onto a desolate plateau, she was met with a sight that sent a shiver down her spine. Crouching figures, insectoid in appearance, with chitinous exoskeletons and razor-sharp claws, feasted on the carcass of a creature vaguely resembling a gargoyle. Their mandibles clicked in sickening unison, their compound eyes glinting with malevolent hunger.

"By Krypton," Power Girl whispered, clenching her jaw. These weren't mere street thugs; they were horrors ripped from a nightmare. But fear wouldn't save her; action would.

Focusing her power, she charged. The air crackled with electricity as she launched herself towards the feasting creatures. But unlike the robotic drones or muscle-bound goons she was used to, these things were fast, their movements blurring as they dodged her blows. One snapped at her with razor-sharp mandibles, barely missing her arm. Panic threatened to consume her, but she pushed it down, channeling her fear into fury.

The battle was brutal, a chaotic ballet of claws and fists against alien chitin. Each blow she landed felt like hit …(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

#ai #aiart #digitalart #jadegretz #fantasyart #fanart #beautifulgirl #aiartwork #aiartcommunity #powergirl #superheroart #superhero #supergirl #comicart

[obsessedanddepressed]

Build a Doctor Who episode:

Until now we have a horror/ creepy episode set in the far future, in an alien town/city.

The Tardis landed there on her own, the Doctor wasn't even trying to take off.

The villains will be something seen in Classic Who but not New Who.

There's gonna be five or less characters with lines, and out of them will survive the Doctor, the companion and one more good guy.

Round 8

Help me choose the villains:

1. The Mara

A snake-like creature/ hive mind that can possess and manipulate people (and trap them in their minds!). It feeds on negative emotions like fear and hatred, targeting those more susceptible to them. Its main goal seems to be spreading chaos and unrest.

Seen in Classic who in “Kinda” and “Snakedance.”

2. The Krynoids

Sentient, carnivorous alien plants. They can influence other plants and even possess humans. They start out as pods, and if you get too close they'll turn you into a Krynoid too. If they take root on a planet, soon all animal life there becomes extinct. Their goal seems to be replacing animal life with plant life/ "winning" against animal life.

Seen in Classic who in “The Seeds of Doom”

3. The Wirrn

A race of human-sized insectoid parasites. They live in space but do occasionally land on planets to gather supplies or breed. They infect and take over the bodies of other creatures, using them as hosts to lay their eggs. The wirrn larvas are equipped with both the host's and its ancestors' knowledge. They also produce a slime that, if touched, turns other creatures into larvas too.

Seen in Classic who in “The Ark in Space”

4. The Rutans

Hive mind. They usually look like green glowing jellyfish, but they can move out of water just fine. Limited vision. They can shape-shift into forms they know very well. They can absorb electricity for sustenance, and use bioelectricity to defend themselves. They can survive mostly anywhere. Also, their ships can control the weather to a certain degree. Known for being the nr 1 enemy of the Sontarens.

Seen in Classic who in “Horror of Fang Rock”

Round 7

Round 9

#doctor who #classic who #4th doctor #tegan jovanka #kinda #snakedance #the ark in space #horror of fang rock #the seeds of doom #sarah jane smith #harry sullivan #leela #fifth doctor #new who #10th doctor #11th doctor #12th doctor #13th doctor #14th doctor #15th doctor #9th doctor #8th doctor #5th doctor #build-an-episode

[artblooger19moon]

Honbagu

@nickzilla_2005

#honbagu #the electric insectoid horror #kaiju #shotoverse kaiju #shotoverse #original kaiju design #original kaiju #nickzilla 2005 #drawing #fan art

[woodlandsandwanderers]

Don’t Starve Together Themed Magic Anons: Return of Them

Disclaimer: The concept for this list was inspired by an old collection of M!A prompts by tumblr user @sugarsweetblonde, who has since deactivated and cannot be located to credit properly. However, multiple users contributed to the current lists, including myself, so credit to @tinkering-survivor, @probablyatrashcan, and @personalrpmemes for their contributions. Puffin: Muse grows black, waterproof feathers, webbed feet, and wings(whether they can fly is up to the Mun). They can’t walk very well on land, but seem to do better in the water.

Horror Hound: Everything appears as normal for Muse. However, they've begun to feel a clawing pain in their chest. This unwellness shall linger until next they're killed, at which time the curse shall truly manifest itself. 

Moonrock Pengull: Everything appears as normal for Muse. However, their bones have begun to ache inceasantly. This unwellness shall linger until next they're killed, at which time the curse shall truly manifest itself.

Gestalt: Muse becomes an amorphous phantom of sorts. They can’t interact with corporeal beings; only with other spooks and specters. Only those who are clear of mind can see them, though would probably do best to stay out of the way.

Shattered Spider: Muse's body becomes encrusted with calcified growths, crystals protruding from their skin. Whenever they attack similar crystals will erupt from the ground and pierce their target.

Carrat: Muse, now reduced in size, is now a plant hybrid. Whenever they’re frightened they can burrow themselves into the soil, but can easily be plucked back out.

Saladmander: Muse is now a plant hybrid, sprouting layered leaves across their body and a vine-like tail. They now have a fondness for warm temperatures, and if exposed to the right conditions they’ll gain the ability to spit fire.

Moon Moth: Muse, now greatly reduced in size, sports delicate, glowwing wings. They are now nocturnal, finding themselves becoming sleepy during the day. Any plant they touch becomes it’s lunar counterpart(carrots to carrats, berries to stone fruit, ect.).

Malbatross: Muse now sports four oversized wings. These wings weigh heavily on them, getting in the way of their daily tasks and wearing them out from the effort of bearing them. They also find themself struck with a sudden case of wanderlust - a whim made difficult to quell on account of the massive wings holding them back.

Gnarwail: Muse is now a mer of sorts, their lower half replaced with that of the Gnarwail. They also sport the creature’s horns, running from their forehead to their lower back. They can summon a powerful geyser with a dramatic toss of their hair.

Skitter Squid: Muse's lower body is replaced with tentacles. Their eyes glow brightly and their mouth opens wider than usual. As a defensive measure they can hock up gobs of ink to blind attackers.

Crab King: Muse’s body is now encased in a stony exterior riddled with conveniently gem-sized sockets. They can insert gems into themselves, giving them remarkable abilities. However, each gem drives them more and more feral.

Woby: Muse has become strangely adverse to fighting, knees knocking and palms sweating at the mere idea of facing off against the Constant’s fauna. They’ve gained an odd fondness for Monster Meat, but would do best to not consume too much - lest they fancy becoming a monster themselves.

Rockjaw: Muse’s skin becomes rough and stony, with their lower jaw and teeth becoming especially sharp and jagged. They’ve also sprouted fin-like protrusions on their limbs(and tail if applicable).

Sea Weed: Muse becomes a plant hybrid, growing beautiful petals around their neck and roots for legs. They can dip their roots into the ocean to rejuvenate themselves, which will attract barnacles over time. If threatened they can throw spiny seed pods at an attacker.

Mush Gnome: Muse’s skin turns woody with a bluish hue and fungal growths sprouting from their head and extremities. These growths will periodically expel explosive spores, increasing in frequency if Muse is excited, frightened, or angry.

Naked Mole Bat: Egads! All of Muse’s hair has fallen out! As if they didn’t look enough like a freak, their ears and nose have grown into grotesque new forms! Their ears now uselessly wriggle and flap, and their nose is so large and powerful they may inadvertently inhale things they didn’t mean to.

Dustmoth: Muse has developed an affinity for cleaning, which has been made easier by their large, flightless, filamented wings. Unfortunately their eyesight seems to have heavily degraded, but hopefully a snazzy new monocle will help them cope.

Sentrypede: Muse is now a protective electric spirit of sorts. Initially they are housed within the husk of an Ancient automaton, but if something happens to that shell they can try to possess something else. They’ve become fiercely protective of what’s important to them and will guard whatever that may be with their life.

Lord of the Fruit Flies: Muse now has a black thumb - figuratively, of course, what with their new insectoid claws and buzzing wings. Whatever plants they tend or harvest only seem to wither and rot, attracting pesky flies that harass plants and animals alike.

Friendly Fruit Fly: Muse now has a green thumb - figuratively, of course, what with their new insectoid claws and buzzing wings. Whatever plants they tend or harvest flourish beyond expectation, resulting in an utter smorgasbord of fruits and veggies.

Moonblind Bird: Muse’s home is surrounded by a vicious moonstorm, and while in its vicinity they become a violent mutant. If someone or something can get them out of the storm they’ll return to normal, but the storm will slowly pursue them.

Celestial Guardian: Now donning moonstone armor, Muse is now imbued with celestial power. They will actively seek out persons and creatures aligned or otherwise associated with with Them, engaging them with the aid of celestial energy and glass constructs.

#don't starve rp #M!A list

[thecreaturecodex]

Demon, Feridol

“Armored Beetle, reg.” © Applibot, by John Silva. Accessed at the artist’s gallery here

[Commissioned by @listmaker-lastcity​, based on the rotlord fiend from D20 Modern. One of the particulars about converting creatures from D20 Modern into Pathfinder RPG has been sorting out the generic “fiends” into the various evil outsider subtypes that exist in Pathfinder, of which there are many. Another particular has been finding art, since few of them are illustrated. For this guy especially, the challenge was finding good beetle-monster art with only two arms, particularly since I knew it was going to be Large. Five attacks from a Large creature would shred most PCs at the target CR here.]

Demon, Feridol CR 4 CE Outsider (extraplanar) This bulky creature resembles a beetle-like humanoid larger than a man, with membranous wings covered by a shielded back. A green haze surrounds its body, and its jaws drip with brownish slime.

Feridols, sometimes called rot demons, are insectoid horrors rife with corruption and disease. They are created from the souls of slum lords, drug dealers, and others who increased the misery of those less fortunate then themselves. The bottom-dwelling and scavenging that they practiced metaphorically in life is made all too literal in the Abyss. They are sadists and bullies, and prefer to pick on targets smaller and weaker than they are. Likewise, they are often ordered around by more powerful demons, which find them useful minions.

The very presence of a feridol causes the living to rot and the undead to become invigorated. Those that do not flee them may be barraged by spells at a distance and forced to close, whereupon the demon shreds them with powerful claws and mandibles. The bite of a feridol carries a rotting disease, and a feridol will often allow a creature escape it if it feels confident it has spread its infection. The fiend will later track down diseased prey and finish it off when it is weakened. Feridols often raise their victims as undead monsters, and may seek out interesting corpses to make into minions.

Feridol   CR 4 XP 1,200 CE Large outsider (chaos, demon, evil, extraplanar) Init +4; Senses darkvision 60 ft., deathwatch, Perception +11 Aura necrotic (Will DC 14, 10 ft.) Defense AC 17, touch 9, flat-footed 17 (-1 size, +8 natural) hp 37 (5d10+10); fast healing 3 Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +3 DR 5/good or cold iron; Immune disease, electricity, poison; Resistance acid 10, cold 10, fire 10; SR 15 Defensive Abilities negative energy affinity Offense Speed 30 ft., fly 40 ft. (average) Melee bite +7 (1d8+2 plus disease), 2 claws +7 (1d6+2) Space 10 ft.; Reach 10 ft. Spell-like Abilities CL 5th, concentration +7 Constant--deathwatch At will—ray of enfeeblement (DC 13), scare (DC 14) 3/day—death knell (DC 14), scorching ray, speak with dead (DC 15) 1/day—animate dead, greater teleport (self plus 50 lbs. objects only), stinking cloud (DC 15), summon (1 dretch, 50%, level 2nd) Statistics Str 15, Dex 11, Con 14, Int 11, Wis 14, Cha 14 Base Atk +5; CMB +8; CMD 18 Feats Alertness, Blind-fight, Improved Initiative Skills Climb +9, Fly +6, Knowledge (religion) +5, Knowledge (planes) +5, Perception +11, Sense Motive +11, Survival +9, Stealth +4 Languages Abyssal, Celestial, Draconic, telepathy 100 ft. Ecology Environment any land or underground (Abyss) Organization solitary, pair or congregation (3-6) Treasure standard Special Abilities Disease (Ex) Slimy doom; bite—injury; save Fort DC 14; onset 1 day; effect 1d4 Con damage, target must make a second Fort save or 1 point is drain instead; cure 2 consecutive saves. The save DC is Constitution based. Necrotic Aura (Su) All creatures within 10 feet of a feridol must succeed a DC 14 Will save each round or take 1d6 negative energy damage. Undead creatures and creatures with the negative energy affinity trait gain fast healing 3 any round they begin their turn inside the aura. The save DC is Charisma based.

#feridol #demon #pathfinder 1e #d20 modern #commissions

[doorsclosingslowly]

Your death is a number but I cannot count that high (10/16)

In which Obi-Wan’s day gets worse. And worse.

Zombie Savage AU | 3k | warnings for body horror, mention of sexual assault

Obi-Wan’s troopers are staying mostly out of sight, aside from the few of them doing key maintenance or still manning the helm to enable quick escape if necessary. He knows they disapprove of the fact that he’s leading Savage Opress, renegade Sith apprentice and apparent undead creature and slayer of uncounted of their brothers and two Jedi, onto their small reconnaissance spaceship. He can’t see them, but he can still feel the worrying glares.

He also knows it’s necessary.

Identifying Darth Sidious is of utmost priority.

For the war effort. For the Republic. For the Jedi Order. For Obi-Wan himself, who’s lost so much to the machinations of this Sith, from Qui-Gon a decade ago to friends and soldiers daily right now.

He doesn’t quite know what breaching into the zabrak’s head will entail, but Obi-Wan will be likely out of commission for some time, which should be much safer on the ship. Plus, they are going to leave Entralla anyway. Once they know who Sidious is, they’ll make for his location posthaste—with an optional detour to Coruscant, should he decide he needs reinforcement. If everyone’s already on board, it will speed up the process. And the zabrak isn’t currently hostile.

He’s following Obi-Wan onto the ship without another word, head slightly bowed and apparently incurious.

He follows him into a small unused cabin.

He stands there, unmoving except for the metal insectoids in his cheek.

“How do you want to do this?” Obi-Wan has always been a courteous host. Even facing the undead creature that watched Satine die, it’s hard to shake the instinct.

Opress glances around the room. Only the wriggling of his cables betrays his nerves—if that is what it means.

“You suggested this. I know the Jedi ways of entering a mind—” in theory, and it was never Obi-Wan’s focus of study, though as unexpectedly easy as interaction with the grunting and brutal Sith is turning out to be, he mustn’t expose any lack of surety without reason— “but I assume you know your own techniques for mindmelding. Your familiarity might make this easier.”

“The cot.” Opress pulls at it until it’s dead center in the small room, then strips off the bedding and tosses it into a corner. “This ship is not earthen, but at least it is currently touching the soil, even if it’s not the soil of… It should be darker here. Can you locate braziers?”

“No.” Open fire? Inside a spaceship cabin? It would take a skilled engineer an hour to even shut off the smoke alarms because they are so elementary for safety.

“Then the electric light will serve in its place,” Opress rumbles. It’s hard to work out whether he’s disappointed. “I will strip—” he touches his shoulder pad, the one that was a clone’s helmet an hour ago, and shies away as if burned— “I will lie down now. You will stand behind my head.”

Obi-Wan follows his direction. The earth, the fire, the dark, and their arrangement—it seems deeply ritualistic, and although the Sith tend towards the dramatic he’s never thought them this primitive. In a less dire situation, this would be interesting.

“You will raise your hands. I will close my eyes.”

From the vantage point right above the supine zabrak, Opress looks even more wretched than he appeared on the battlefield. Occasionally, Obi-Wan can see straight through one of the holes in his chest before thick wriggling cables block his view. The other’s filled with an emitter guard—with Opress’ saber’s emitter guard. His torso is well-covered with junkyard debris, and where skin peeks through armor or trash it only seems slightly discolored. The arms are a different matter: the left forearm is prosthetic, of course, dull and lifeless compared to the rest of him, and the upper arms are sore-ridden and blistering and shiny with blaster burns. There is a deep gash all the way lengthwise down his right forearm, stuffed with crap, and the skin at the edges is swollen and purpling black. Flecks of trash move across the gash restlessly like misshapen ants. Despite Savage Opress’ size, somehow, he looks small.

“And then?”

Ridiculously, Opress looks offended. He rumbles, “You do magic.”

“Magic?”

A deep sigh heaves Opress’ metal-studded chest. His brows bunch. He bites his lip. Then, he rumbles, almost monotonously, “I gave myself up for my brother. Brothers. I am here now, and I will not resist. Picture it. I gave myself up. I will not resist. I paid the price for his life. I offer myself for my brother. I am here, Mother, Your Weapon, and whatever Your magic—"

Obi-Wan almost chokes on his vomit. The acid settles, uncomfortably, in his esophagus. Hunts have been lean recently, and there’s not much more to bring up. What hunts—The acid resists being swallowed because he’s lying down. He’s flat on his back and it’s dark outside his closed eyelids and he is terrified. He can feel the musty air on his bare chest, and he wishes he had something to cover himself. Anything. Only this isn’t what he’s been brought here for, he knows, he will soon be bred and—he’s lucky he still has his skirt. It won’t be long now. Maybe She will accept his lack of experience, and despite the tales She will be gentle. Only some Sisters enjoy causing pain.

It won’t be long, he thinks, trying to swallow back bitter spittle, trying to even out his breaths, it won’t be long, and the green that flashes behind his eyelids and seeps deep into his bones is no more vivid than the stone under his back. It won’t be long. It won’t last. It won’t be long.

He sinks.

He—there was a purpose here. He had a purpose. He is… He is Jedi. He’s Obi-Wan.

He’s Obi-Wan, and he just entered this mind.

This isn’t real, or rather—

It isn’t now.

He needs to find out a way to navigate these memories. Find Sidious. Find the Sith’s face. The fate of the Republic depends upon it. He can’t dwell on these… revelations about Opress, disturbing though they are, for all their sake.

Sidious, Obi-Wan tries thinking. Darth Sidious.

He’s still on the slab.

Savage might not care enough about the other Sith, he decides. This seems like a traumatic memory. Maybe it’s easier to access these, and what did Savage say…? The monster slaughtered him. Killed his brother. Maul’s death.

Maul’s death, he thinks. Maul is dead. Maul gets dismembered. Maul—

The crib is the only thing upright in this room. All other scarce furnishings have been torn asunder, searched and searched and searched and turned over as if something could possibly hide under a thin strip of linen.

The crib is an altar, and he kneels before it. He’s been kneeling for days.

The crib is empty.

He failed.

The baby is gone.

No, that’s not what Obi-Wan needs. Maul is dead. Maul is—

Maul is everywhere here, suffusing the air, a green tether—

Maul is dead. Maul is dead.

“What have they done to you, brother?” Obi-Wan can feel his mouth form the syllables, mournful and hard. “How could anybody do this? Hurt you, brother?”

They left the cave the day before yesterday, and finally, finally the brother in the cargo hold gave in to exhaustion and fell asleep. Finally, finally he can inspect him, from the safety of the door’s window, in bright shiplight.

Maul is on the floor curled into a quarter circle, though it’s obvious he would have taken a fetal position if his body allowed it. His metal arachnid abdomen sticks straight down, awkwardly.

His horns are far overgrown and rough, making him look friendless and undignified, but that’s the least pressing issue.

He’s emaciated.

He only got a few tossed pouches of reconstituted spiced meat because eating too much after starving makes you sick, and he wolfed them down. He emptied the hydrosacks much more carefully, sticking his tongue into the opening after so as not to waste a single drop. Water must have been scarcer than food on Lotho Minor.

Food and drink, that’s all he could give Maul. It’s not all his brother needs: companionship, perhaps, solace and sanity, and above all healing and care. Whoever fitted his grotesque prosthetic held no love at all for Maul, for they did nothing to protect his flesh. Maul’s stomach skin is inflamed all over, in places even gangrenous or with open sores smearing pus and blood all over the floor. It’s a miracle he still lives. But he does.

Someone cut him in half and he lived and someone screwed a spider’s ass into him and he lived and someone cut him and he lived and someone screwed it in and he lived and some monster cut Savage’s little brother in half and—

Maul’s dead, Obi-Wan thinks. Maul’s dead. Maul’s dead.

He’s tiny and feverish, and Savage got him just a fortnight ago and it’s already going wrong, he’ll fail his baby brother and—

I didn’t know, Obi-Wan thinks. I didn’t. But I still need to find—

The crib is empty.

It swings, slightly, in the storms.

The body he wears is sobbing.

Maul’s dead.

Maul is worrying his lip thinking of his brother right this moment in the bright green air—this doesn’t feel like—he’s kneeling in his room, but even knowing he might be able to feel the force connection will not allow him to settle into meditation. Savage is in the grasp of Sidious. Savage has been in his grasp for weeks while Maul idled—this isn’t the Maul of these memories—and any liberation might come too late. If they succeed, which they won’t. But still, his brother—this is real. It’s not a memory. Maul’s alive—his brother survived and Maul tried so hard to keep him and—what did Maul do?!—

Focus. Sidious. Sidious’ face. Maul’s... injury?

He never thought there was anyone more powerful than his brother in the galaxy, and he was wrong. Simple hero worship, he was dimly aware, and gratitude and adoration, and he hadn’t followed Maul for his strength anyway, but still, sometimes, he’d glanced sideways and thought, You could wipe the floor with Master Dooku. If he wanted to electrocute me now, you’d kill him, because I’m with you now. I’m your apprentice. He hadn’t thought, you could take on the Mother. But he also hadn’t not thought it.

The twin disasters against Kenobi hadn’t changed his mind. Kenobi might have had the upper hand those times, but he still was a gnat. Hey what…

He’d thought that there was no-one more powerful than Maul, and he’d been happy. Maul would live. Maul’s alive. Obi-Wan just felt his presence but—

He’d thought that there was none more powerful than his brother.

And then, the monster came.

The monster who stole the toddler Savage should have raised and tortured him instead, who is just as supercilious and cruel and ugly as Savage suspected. He wears a heinous purple hood robe—he’s hiding his face but Obi-Wan needs to see it—and he just kills Miks and Jema. Maul, immediately and obviously terrified, tries to placate him with lies of servitude. Getting smashed against the wall hurts less than hearing Maul call the creep Master.

Distantly, Obi-Wan catalogues the fighting stances used by the body he’s inside and the two others, though focusing mostly on trying to get a clear view of Sidious’ face. That chin seems oddly familiar. Too familiar. Who is… The body—Savage—has other priorities, glancing back and again at Maul. Maul, who has to live. Maul’s unconscious now, and Savage won’t win, but maybe in his struggle and death he will buy enough time for his baby brother to get away—a blurred view of the face but it’s clear enough and—Maul has to get away—Palpatine—the monster whirls around—the Chancellor?!—and pain, pain—the Chancellor—pain—the Chancellor, Obi-Wan left Anakin so often alone with him and the Chancellor is the Sith Lord—pain—the—

Floor, far away, for a minute. Not long left. Only time for—a hand, grasping his, and Maul. Oh, Maul. Oh, brother.

“I am an unworthy apprentice,” ground out with the last of bis breaths. An apology. A goodbye, because he’s leaving Maul here with his old nightmare and if Savage were better, if he were just a little bit better, he could have protected… “I never—”

Maul doesn’t accept. His hand is hot against Savage’s mouth. Savage bites down on reflex and the green light rises—Obi-Wan’s seen too much of this light, what does it mean—the green light rises and Maul forces it deep into his brother, with his own body and his mind unheeding the brutality or material reality, while the vortex of magic swirls and swirls around them. Debris sticks like static to his skin—Obi-Wan can feel it and he can feel Maul giving in to anything that may grant power, and oh, Savage outside these memories is crafted and reinforced with trash and does that mean—the light pulls shrapnel and detritus left on the battlefield inside and forms—and Darth Maul forms an undead behemoth out of the almost-corpse of his brother.

Darth Maul did this.

A technobeast.

That’s what they are called, amalgamations of organic and machine matter.

Obi-Wan read of mechu-deru, and mechu-deru vitae, after the reappearance of dismembered Darth Maul when a sai tok should have ended him. A prosthetic lower body is within the remits of the eccentric darkside art of mechu-deru, but Savage the undead machinistic creature extends far beyond that and into sheer barbarism. Mechu-deru allows its practitioner to understand and influence inanimate and robotic constructs. On the lowest end…

The technobeast.

Metal and flesh intermixed to create a weaponized cyborg. A willing slave.

Darth Maul was willing to lobotomize his own brother.

He made a weapon of his brother.

That Maul could sink so…

And still, pervasively, poor Opress loves him.

Obi-Wan’s seen enough.

He’s seen the face of Darth Sidious—seen Palpatine—and he now knows the true depths of Maul’s depravity. He only has to wake up and inform the Jedi Council now. He must wake up.

He must wake—

A finger touches his forehead. It feels strange, as if his body had never before been touched. He opens his eyes in the dark musty Temple, and soon his eyes land on the Sister who won him. Who will breed him. He wraps his hand around Her neck, and distantly he is surprised both that he is angry—that he dares resist—and that his hand dwarfs her neck, but still he chokes Her and She begs, “Let me go,” but he won’t because he hates Her and then the Mother says, “Calmly, Sister,” and She repeats, “Let me go,” and he stops.

He stops.

Stops.

He stands up.

“Now, for the final test,” She who is Power says.

And They carry in a brother he thinks he should know and She who is Power orders him to kill the brother and, wrapping his hand around another neck and feeling like he should remember every single meal and every hunt and every night and every tear and every word and every laugh they ever shared, he does.

He kills the brother.

It’s Feral.

He killed Feral—

Obi-Wan sicks up his lunch. And his breakfast, for good measure.

“Did you find Sidious?” Opress rumbles from his cot.

He appears completely impassive, as if Obi-Wan hadn’t just seen him mourn the baby he lost and choke another of his brothers to death and skewered through the hearts by Darth Sidious—by Chancellor Palpatine, and they are doomed, doomed, how could this just slip by, how could Obi-Wan entrust his padawan to a monster for hours upon hours, how could the Republic just fall to his sway and if he commands Dooku then what does this mean for the war that has been destroying all of them for years—seen Opress killed by Sidious and then turned into a machine slave by Darth Maul, who’s meant to be Opress’ brother and Obi-Wan always assumed that he felt at least a modicum of comradeship for his kind, but if he’s ready to plumb these moral depths… Maul, who apparently, is also still alive.

It’s a bit much.

Obi-Wan feels faint. He pulls a chair out with the force and sits.

Opress, meanwhile, sits up on his cot. The cables on his chest wave and wrap tightly around him—a sickening testament to Darth Maul’s malice. They jitter. “You—recognized him?” Opress asks.

“I did,” Obi-Wan replies tonelessly. “It’s Supreme Chancellor Palpatine.”

“Good. Where does this Chancellor live?”

“Where does—” Obi-Wan doesn’t have the energy for this. “He lives on Coruscant.”

“Then let us go and kill him.”

“We can’t just kill the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic—” Something dawns upon Obi-Wan. He laughs hysterically. “You have no idea who that is, do you?”

“I don’t.” Savage Opress doesn’t appear any less buoyed by his gross ignorance. Maybe that is a result of the brain damage caused by Darth Maul’s ritual. “It doesn’t matter. I am the last weapon of the Mother. She resurrected me, and I shall avenge Her, and then I’ll die.”

Obi-Wan should probably tell him that Darth Maul used mechu-deru to enslave him and that’s why he’s an undead machine-contaminated monster now. He will. He will, soon, but his first duty is to the galaxy and the Jedi and the Republic, and Sidious is the most dire threat by far. He can’t afford the time to explain what he just found out to this hapless creature, and technobeasts according to the book were renowned for their power. Perhaps Opress will be instrumental in taking down the Sith Lord.

It’s not even deception. A lot of deception, anyway. Opress wants to kill Darth Sidious. That’s why he accosted Obi-Wan. The man killed him, after all. There’ll be time for truth later and—

The comm system whirrs alive. “General, we’re being boarded!”

It turns off, like there’s not even time for another missive.

Kriff.

Who could it be but Sidious?

Obi-Wan hasn’t even commed the Jedi Order.

And if he already found out then…

Obi-Wan sprints towards the door. Opress pushes himself off the cot. The air grows thicker, and thicker, and both keel over.

#savage opress #savage oppress #zombie savage au #dimtraces makes things

[shadowjack12345]

Old Dogs

I promise I’m working on the (long overdue) next part of Three’s Company, but I needed to get this idea out before I carried on with it.

The old man watched the world go by from his preferred spot in the park. They had replaced his favourite bench years ago, the one in which he'd carved his name all when he was young, and the smooth, artificial surface was impervious to something as mundane as a penknife. He watched as the people milled around - some things never changed - in an array of hues and races he would never have considered possible. At this point, Earth was a full participant in wider interstellar politics, meaning humans spread out into the universe, and the universe came to Earth. Blue, red, pink, purple, orange. Aliens were so common here now that no-one paid them much mind, and no-one gave a second thought to a green-skinned old man on a park bench.

The air shuddered. His pointed ears twitched, still more sensitive than most even when dulled by time. Some things never changed. Villains still plotted. Heroes still fought to stop them. He turned his left hand up and the device around his wrist projected an image of the local news above his palm. This was a new guy who had already started to make a name for himself: Carnus. And he was a Red user, with skin to match - he had animal powers, which was especially irritating. Still, the local Titans were there already, and he let a little pride inflate his chest

.

There was the current Kid Flash. And the new Wonder Boy. And the newest Robin, a girl this time. Ah. And there was the man's Grandson, Crow. He watched as the boy enveloped himself in wings of black energy before charging at their enemy. It was an old, familiar dance, and he waited for the familiar ending. But it didn't happen that way. To the man's clear distress, Carnus quickly and savagely tore into the Titans and batted them aside, shifting into one form after another, all carnivores.

"Oh sprak," a young woman said as she plopped down on the bench beside him, staring at the same footage in her own hand. "The Titans are getting scorched! They need backup or something," she muttered. This was a terrible idea. It was an objectively terrible idea. It couldn't possibly end well.

"They need backup," the man said to himself.

"You say something?" said the young woman, still watching. She looked around when no answer came. "Hello?" She heard the beat of feathered wings.

"The much-vaunted Titans. Ha!" Carnus spat. "You're no match for the power of the Red, and I am its champion, Carnus!" He stood, laughing, gloating over his fallen enemies. Only when his own died down did he realise someone was laughing along with him. He turned and saw a withered, green old man, his fingers on the pulse in Crow's neck.

"You think you're the champion of the Red?" the man asked, pushing himself to his feet with both hands on his cane. "Now that's funny."

"Foolish old man," Carnus growled before shifting into a panther and lunging forward. The old man, to Carnus' amazement, shrank into a hummingbird and darted aside while Carnus' jaws clamped around the cane. The bird flew above him and morphed into a hippo, which crashed down on Carnus. The hippo became a bird again which hopped away and shifted into a tired old man, hands on his knees as he breathed heavily. Carnus took his human shape.

"You're a Red user... You're the Changeling!" he snarled.

"Took you long enough," Changeling chuckled.

"You are old and weak and stupid," Carnus barked.

"Hey! I am two of those things at most," Changeling griped.

"Enough! Your time is over. Your death will signal the beginning of my time, the time of Carnus!"

"You, uh...  you really like your name, huh," Changeling drawled.

"Show me your power! Show the world you are no match for Carnus!" With that Carnus shifted and grew. And grew. And grew. He took the form of some alien creature, a biped with thick, grasping arms that stood as tall as most of the buildings around them. Changeling sighed.

"If you were my student, I'd remind you that power or strength isn't the key to victory unless it's wielded with equal skill,"

"I am no student!" Carnus thundered, the creature's voice booming.

"No. But I can still teach you something." Suddenly, Changeling started to shift. And grow. Green poured out of him, it spilled into the sky above and grew so its shadow encompassed the entire city. Then it kept growing.

Aboard the Justice League satellite, alarms blared and beeped as the fight in Jump City raged on. The woman on watch, semi-retired in her mid to late fifties, was known as Corvid, and she watched in open-mouthed horror as a creature appeared and grew so large as to block her view of the entire City, only to keep growing.

"What is it?" she heard. The current Batman was next to her, and his voice made Corvid jump.

"I'll try and find out," she said. She closed her eyes and let her empathic senses reach toward the creature, trying to sense its motive, where it had come from, how it... "Oh. Oh no," she said, her voice trembling.

"Corvid? What is it?" Batman asked. His eyes widened a little when Corvid turned to face him with very uncharacteristic tears in her eyes.

"It's my father."

The Carnus creature looked up at his foe, some sort of massive insectoid creature, with a long, segmented body that seemed to reach the clouds. Multiple legs were folded under its belly, and great, transparent wings rested along its back. It blotted out the sun. With a low, distant, indecipherable rumble, electric arcs coruscated across the giants eyes, and a jagged bolt of lightning cracked the sky, striking Carnus in the chest. With a cry, he fell backward and shrank back down to himself, smoking and defeated. The giant blurred and shifted, and its entire form poured itself into the shape of an exhausted old man who stood just in front of the injured Carnus. When the shift was complete, he fell to his knees and winced at the pain.

"The Red is a power that can't belong to someone like you. The world can't afford it," he gasped. Carnus looked up, shaking his head weakly.

"You... you wouldn't kill me," he said, without much certainty.

"No, I wouldn't. But I can't let you keep it," Changeling said. Carnus tried to sit up but barely moved.

"You can't do that," he whimpered. "No one can, not even the Red's champion." Changeling smirked.

"Want to see a trick my wife taught me?" he said. He shuffled a little closer and clamped his hands on either side of Carnus' head, leaning down to stare into his eyes.

"Please..." Carnus whimpered. Changeling looked regretful, but didn't remove his hands. His eyes started to glow and Carnus squirmed feebly.

"Azarath. Metrion. Zinthos." Carnus' body was suffused with red light and Changeling released him, sitting back as the light coalesced above them. When the flow from Carnus stopped, Changeling raised his hands and the energy rushed into him. There was a lot, Carnus' connection to the Red had been strong and profound, but to be honest, compared to the vast energies the Red had poured into him over the years, Changeling barely felt the difference. He leaned to one side, his hand on the ground. He leaned a little more and let his body lie down. The sound of Carnus crying sounded muffled. He blinked up at the sky  as dark shapes appeared in it, too blurry for him to identify...

Garfield Logan woke up in bed. Not his own. Last he remembered, his wasn't surrounded by so much medical equipment. And his head felt like a bass drum after a concert.

"That was very dangerous, you know," he heard. His heart swelled and he grinned. Corvid. Rachel.

"Hey, pumpkin," he said. Corvid sighed but failed to hide her own smile. Crow was stood behind her. "Hey, pumpkin junior." He waved.

"Hi grandpa," he said shyly. "Um. Thanks. For saving me and my friends."

"You're welcome, kid. Now unless there's something medical stopping you, you better give me a hug," Changeling laughed. With another, less shy, smile, Crow stepped closer and leaned down to hug his grandfather, who hugged him back. "Oh, that's a good one. Good thing I'm already in a hospital bed seeing as you probably just cracked all my ribs." Crow shook his head and laughed. Even at 17 years old, he couldn't resist his grandpa's dumb jokes.

"I uh, I healed you up best I could," Crow said. Changeling looked up at him with wide eyes.

"You got your healing working? That's great!" he cheered. Crow flushed a little under the praise.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did. Anyway, you'll be sore for a while but you didn't actually have any injuries apart from some scrapes on your knees. You were mainly just worn out. Sorry I couldn't do more."

"You did plenty. Thanks. Your friends all okay?" Changeling asked.

"Yeah. I healed them too, a little. It still takes it outta me," Crow admitted.

"You'll get used to it. You'll do fine," Changeling assured him. Crow opened his mouth to speak again but Corvid spoke first.

"Crow, would you please give us a moment?" she said.

"Uh, oh, guess who's in trouble," Changeling stage-whispered. Crow snickered for a moment before seeing his mother's face and leaving quickly. "What's up, pumpkin?"

"You know you aren't supposed to use your powers any more. The doctor said-"

"I know, pumpkin. I know. I decided it was worth the risk," Changeling interrupted. Corvid shook her head.

"If Mom was still here-"

"If your Mom was still here, she would have beaten me to it and you know it," he laughed. Corvid let herself smile.

"Yeah. Yes, I suppose you're right," she admitted. "Thank you. Thank you for saving my son."

"Any time," Changleling answered, more seriously but still smiling. Corvid pushed some of his thin hair back from his forehead.

"Still a hero, huh? Mom would be proud," she said.

"Thanks, honey," Changeling said.

"I'll let you rest for now," Corvid said, stepping away. "Maybe... maybe you could spend some time with some of our recruits. We have a few Red users, and it seems like you still have new tricks to show off."

"I think I'd like that," he said quietly. When Corvid had left, he looked up toward the ceiling but didn't see it. "Sorry, Rae. I'm gonna keep you waiting a little longer - I think this old guy still has a little story left in him."

­END

#beast boy #Teen Titans #sort of #bbrae #kind of #shadowjack12345

[snappedsky]

Borderlands: Skies the Bodyguard 3

The Crimson Raiders finally catch up with Skies.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

--

Chapter 18

           Three buzzards fly across the ocean, carrying Lilith and the Crimson Raiders. She carefully watches the map on her ECHO device, making sure they’re going the right way, as they approach an island.

           “Look!” Mordecai exclaims, pointing to a flying vehicle parked on the coast. They land the buzzards nearby and examine it.

           “What a piece of junk,” Gaige comments.

           “It is empty,” Zer0 observes.      

           “They must be on the island,” Lilith says.

           “Wait, listen,” Axton orders.

           Everyone’s quiet for a moment and they hear gunfire in the distance.

           “Gunshots,” Maya states as everyone draws their weapons.

           “Sounds like we’re late for the party,” Salvador grins.

           “Meat,” Krieg chuckles darkly and everyone jogs into the trees. They only make it a short distance before they’re ambushed. Shock blasts hit the ground at their feet, narrowly missing them as everyone leaps backwards.

           “Guardians!” Maya exclaims as the insectoid creatures emerge from the shadows.

           “Some party,” Mordecai scoffs and they open fire.

           Meanwhile, not too far away, Skies, Timothy, August, Claptrap, and Gortys race around the trees and buildings. They dodge the guardians’ attacks while firing off some of their own, their bullets barely wounding the creatures.

           “Gah! What are these things?” August snaps.

           “Guardians! They guard the Vaults,” Claptrap replies.

           “This is the first time I’ve seen them in person,” Skies remarks.

           “Not me and I’m not a huge fan,” Timothy adds.

           “What do we do?” Gortys asks frantically.

           “Just keep moving!” Skies orders.

           They continue rushing around the abandoned facility but are forced to skid to a stop. Five guardians are standing in their way, blocking them off. They try to go back but four more jump down, surrounding them.

           “Aw, crapsicles,” Timothy squeaks.

           Skies snarls and starts to draw a grenade from her coat. But before she can throw it, the guardians attack. They all fire electrically charged blasts. Skies, Timothy, and August do their best to dodge but there’s nowhere to go and they’re all hit. They cry out in pain as the shocks travel through their bodies before collapsing.

           Claptrap and Gortys remain unharmed, the guardians seemingly uninterested in them. They just watch in horror as their friends pass out around them.

           The guardians chitter with satisfaction before approaching. Claptrap and Gortys look up at them in a panic as they get closer and closer. Then Claptrap spots the grenade Skies had in her hand.

           He quickly grabs it, pulls the pin, and shouts, “I’m a Vault Hunter too!” as he tosses it into one of the groups. It goes off, splitting into multiple smaller grenades which also explode.

           Most of the guardians are taken out in the blasts and the survivors are startled into backing away, giving the robots a chance to escape.

           “Grab August!” Claptrap orders as he pulls both Skies and Timothy onto his head.

           “Ah, o-okay!” Gortys squeaks and hoists Augusts onto her head.

           Together, the two robots make a break for it, dragging their unconscious friends away from the remaining guardians.

           “We need a place to hide,” Claptrap whimpers and spots a door with a glowing control panel. “Here!” He skids to a stop, pushes the button, and the door jerks open, dust falling away as it slides into the wall. “Inside!”

           Gortys follows him inside and he quickly closes the door.

           The building is small, just one room with no windows. There’s one large computer that appears to be on standby, the blank screen dimly illuminating the room.

           Claptrap and Gortys lay their friends on the metal floor. All three of them remain unconscious and unresponsive.

           “They’re not waking up,” Gortys points out.

           “I know,” Claptrap replies.

           “What do we do?”

           “I don’t know!”

           They both cry out in a panic and race around in circles, exclaiming, “what do we do? What do we do?”

           Suddenly, a compartment on the computer console opens up and something flies out. It hits Claptrap in the head, interrupting his fit. When he stops to look at it, he exclaims happily.

           “Insta-health!” he squeals and picks up three syringes.

           “Huh?” Gortys questions.

           “Here! Stab this into August’s neck,” Claptrap orders.

           “Wha-! But I don’t wanna hurt August,” she argues.

           “No, no, this will help him!” he insists, “just do it, hurry!”

           Gortys hesitates but obliges and jabs the syringe into August’s neck while Claptrap does the same for Timothy and Skies. Immediately, the three of them gasp awake and shoot up.

           “You’re okay!” Gortys cries happily, hugging August.        

           “Ugh, my head,” Skies groans and looks around. “Where are we?”

           “We saved you,” Claptrap states as he and Gortys stand proudly before them. The three of them stare at the robots with shock.

           “Really. Well, uh…good work, then,” Skies comments.

           “Thanks,” Gortys chimes.

           “Alright, what now?” August asks as they stand up.

           “We gotta find the others,” Skies replies.

           They all perk up at the sounds of gunshots just outside.

           “Oh, maybe that’s them,” Timothy says and opens the door. Outside they see the guardians getting shot at before Brick bursts out of the trees and punches one in the head. He turns towards the open door and spots them.

           “Found ya!” he exclaims.

           “Brick!” Skies squeals.

           He charges them, laughing victoriously.

           “Close it, close it!” Skies cries, frantically slapping at Timothy’s hand before hitting the control panel. The door slams shut just as Brick swings his fist. He hits the door, denting the metal inches from Timothy’s face.

           “Whoa,” he peeps.

           Before Brick can have a chance to open the door, Skies shoots the control panel with her pistol. They soon hear him cursing outside.

           “Who is that?” Timothy asks.

           “Let’s just say for now, he really doesn’t like us,” Skies replies, “well, me. Mostly me.”

           “How did they find us?” August asks.

           “I don’t know, I don’t know,” she says, panicked as she grips her head. “Argh, I don’t what to do! We’re trapped and Brick’ll smash through that door in no time.”

           As if to prove her point, Brick punches the door again, creating another dent and making everyone cry out in fear.

           “Oh, what did I get myself into,” Timothy whimpers as he backs away.

           “We’re gonna have to fight our way out,” August says.

           “I don’t like our chances but you’re right,” Skies nods.

           They ready their weapons and wait tensely for Brick to break through the door. But then they hear an odd scraping, like metal on metal.

           “What’s that?” Skies asks as they look around.

           “Look!” Gortys exclaims, pointing at the floor. A small section has shifted, revealing an open space beneath. It scrapes against the rest of the floor as it tries to open wider.

           “A secret door?” Skies questions as she and the boys quickly kneel down and pull it the rest of the way open. Beneath is a dark tunnel that goes straight underground.

           “I can’t see where it goes,” Timothy says, “what if it’s dangerous?”

           They all jump as Brick punches the door again.

           “I’d rather deal with whatever’s down there than Brick,” Skies declares.

           “Okay, so who’s first?” Claptrap asks.

           To answer, Skies pushes him into the hole. Then, with reckless abandon, everyone else jumps in after him and the door, seemingly on its own, slides close.

#borderlands #borderlands 2 #tales from the borderlands #borderlands fanfiction #borderlands au #myocs #myart

[rooblebeans]

Last night I had a dream that I was watching the consequences of a mercenary being paid by a mysterious group to be rid of a particularly rare type of ship.

I knew the background of the ship only as one of the universe’s most prized brand- something akin to having a Ferrari or a Porsche but even more of a money sink and ten times the perceived luxury. It started with the mercenary who I could see clearly as a short, reptilian creature with bright blue spines and fans, almost like an iguana mixed with some of the lipped tyranasorous recreations I’ve seen. He was wearing a patterned grey space suit with ventilation tubes that had been shoddily re-painted black over some gaudy gold. He was sitting in his own ship looking over an anonymous wire of a great sum of money, his fans and spines flexed as he sighed and tapped away at a mauve control panel. Almost like a camera my vision panned over the interior of the craft. Even in my dreams I cannot escape the hell that is Beige and off-white.

The inside of what I assumed to be the cockpit was an awful egg-shell almost yellow white with many small and well contained screens with various mesurments and command lists scrolling by, one of the screens was on an alien soap opera about a bug like and very round alien falling for a tall dark and brooding typical dark elf like character. It slowly flicked to commercial break for some fast food chain as I heard.

“You think he’ll really do it?”

“Of course he will, little fuck will do anything for money.”

The first voice was familiar... almost my voice but not. The second I somehow knew was the voice of the love interest in the soap opera. My vision returned to the reptilian alien as he finished imputing the last few directions and assumably the last password. He sauntered to the only door I saw during the camera pan, put on something that must have been life support and left, crossing an airless tube between the luxury ship and the actual space raft of garbage that was his. I mean his ship looked like someone strapped a bunch of half built LEGO starships togeather with a single rubber band.

The moment he got back into the shit heap of a ship he owned the luxury ship shimmered and for a moment I saw it’s outside in true detail. It was a sleek beutiful arrow shaped craft, the skin of it shimmered with iridescent mauve and bright electric blues and greens. Time itself seemed to be trying to catch up with itself as the ship simultainously was and was not there, parts seeming to vanish before the whole and then like nothing was happening it was gone. No noise and no fanfare, just gone.

After a lingering moment where I saw the look of doubt on the reptilian alien’s face as he looked down at the billions of credits he had earned I saw that there was very speaific coordinates he was supposed to use.

Then it felt like I was flung with the ship and I saw it, a grand almost living space station with many moving arms and parts working in some gorgeous harmony. Then I saw the soft shimmer of the luxury ship, it wasn’t the whole thing anymore, it was just a single shard of iridescent hull and the soap opera screen still playing away in the void. The moment was broken by the very sudden and great distruction of over half the station starting with the luxury ship just appearing, then a perfect hole punched in a large glass area... then the shrapnel slowly floating by- bits and parts of what could have been people kept untouched in the vacume of space as if the destruction in front of me had happened decades ago. I saw as parts of the station were pulled along with the path of the ship, some parts violently decompressing and others melding into the left overs of the violent decompression. I had to watch in horror as I heard life just stop, chatter over a short wave radio cut short as one party never responds again, video from a family talking to one another stopping in a joyous moment, bits and peices of confusion as odd readings appear and then silence. I was left with silence as I watched most of a metropolis tear itself apart and I could feel something from many stars away. The subtle guilt and almost fear of the alien I had met before, I knew he did not know where the coordinates lead but I KNEW that he was realizing that there was no sun or scrap planet there.

After what felt like an eternity of watching destruction I saw response teams being mobilized by the very few that were left, engineers clad in orange and black rushing in uniform lines to seal breeches and hop into small pod ships to grab anything and everything that was still intact, emergency medical units in a crisp frost blue with different numbers and insignias rushing to every facility they could, small military squadrons in grey uniform rushing to ships and to civilian aid as I heard desparate calls crackle in and out. None of them were ever heard in time.

Time passed in an instant, what must have been years had passed and I was standing among a crowd in front of a memorial made for those who did not survive and to those who sacrificed much to help others survive. All these people were very much like the alien merc who was paid to unknowingly cause this disaster. Many had broken spines and torn fins, even more still had prosthetics clumsily made to do one function. I knew that the alien I first saw was listed as one of the many missing, assumed to have been cleaved by the luxury ship... and I knew that he was still out there trying to ignore what had happened.

I saw a tall almost human like alienwith deep dark purple skin and one insectoid eye, grimacing as they looked over a set of star systems as a robotic voice slowly and rhythmicly explained several anomalys phenomena of stars, planets even entire solar systems stopping entirely as if held in time by something, a fringe organization of discraced scientists were responsible and right now the Alien I first saw was being directly corrilated with them, being listed as a possible associate or even member of the group- and very much importantly the voice noted that this group was most likely the culprit of the station disaster, if only due to negligence or due to malice. Either way they had to be stopped and the best place to start was the “missing” alien.

#this dream was a wild ride #dream #mildly upsetting #movie ass dream #aliens #tw: space #tw: implied death #when i woke up i was PISSED #like bro i wanted to watch the rest of that movie

[tolkienissenpai-blog]

The Cave

The door is locked.  He cannot get in. As I write this, my hand quivering with fear, I am reminded of the revolver hidden beneath my mattress . I will not let this thing take me over. I refuse to let it make me like him.   My brother is not right. He is banging on the door . His force shakes the single light bulb hanging from my ceiling , making shadows dance across the walls. A sick squelching noise, like raw meat being worked on, is heard at every slam of his fists. I do not know what is causing this.  I never thought it would come to this. We were only playing around . Who knew what lie hidden inside those caves? Father told us to leave their darkened depths undisturbed . He always got a strange look in his eye when he told us this. The blood would leave his face, and his hands would begin to quiver. This should have been a clear sign for us , that the danger was real. In hindsight , we both knew this, but in all honesty neither of us could fathom what we would encounter.  Here in our two bedroom cabin, my family has eked out a living for my entire life.  Brother and I have always assisted with menial tasks, while father has been the one to get the food. I’ve lost count how many animals we have gutted and skinned from a hunt, and I am not one to balk at the sight of death or blood. But the caves were something else. Upon entering , my brothers flashlight dimmed instantly. Strange , considering it has sat unused for months, the batteries always freshly charged in case the generator gave out. It was midday though, and our eyes slowly grew accustomed to the darkness. As we moved deeper into the caves, the light no longer reached us, and the only thing guiding us was the flickering glow of our electric torch. We came upon a fork . Both sides identical in nature, with the exception being a metallic odor coming from the right side, reminiscent of old coins we had found buried in the hills a few times. A sense of dread filled my entire being at this smell, and I could not tell why. It felt like all instincts within me, that had been bred into my genes over thousands of years of human experience , were screaming at me to leave. The flashlight began to quiver violently , and I glanced at my brother to see him visibly shaking , his eyes wide with the same fear I felt screaming inside of me .        “Dont be s-s-so scared!” , I manged to  force out. “Let’s t-t-take that right path, we’ll probably stumble upon some p-p-poor miners skeleton and gold!”  At my words, my brother shook as if being released from some spell, glancing at me and giving me a nervous smile , and nodded.  We proceeded down the path, the smell growing more potent the farther we went. Earlier , the walls had been clearly dug out by man, uniform in shape and showing nothing but brown earth. At this point , roots began to show, forcing their way through the walls and ceiling. Some were as thick as my chest, and many hanging from the ceiling were practically vines if not for their clear wooden form. These grasped and tore at our clothing, at one point forcing us to remove the packs we had brought, as the tunnel narrowed to a point where we were on our knees.  Throughout all of this, there was that sense of dread deep withing me. My body would be overcome with irregular spasms , and many times I had to force myself to breath slowly , lest I turn around and flee , leaving my brother alone.  I have never experienced this sense of fear before . I wish I had ran. ... The banging has stopped .  I’ve loaded my revolver now. That dread has returned . I have moved my bed in front of my door . My desk and chair as well, and I continue to write while sitting on the ground. The light is still on , but the hanging light bulb seems too bright in my white washed room. I wish I had a window to see if the sun has risen. I am rushing to finish this tale, because if that THING gets me, I want others to know where it came from, and to purge those caves of that abomination . We had been going down this tunnel for some time, I would like to say for half an hour, but the state of constant dread I was in makes me feel as though it was days. Eventually, the roots around us grew thinner and more sparse , and then an opening appeared ahead of us. My brother, upon reaching the hole, disappeared from sight, his screams filling the enclosed space around me. I crawled quickly to the opening, terrified of the darkness that now engulfed me, and as I crossed the threshold I tumbled down a steep incline of earth , onto my brother.  As we both composed ourselves , helping each other to our feet, it dawned upon me how massive this cavern that we had just fallen into was. We pointed our flash light, its flickering luminescence giving clear signs it was on it’s last legs, towards the direction we came from. The walls around us all sloped up, and as we passed the light all around us, we came to the conclusion we were in a giant bowl, with roots sticking out everywhere again. Skittering centipedes , at least a foot long, burrowed away from the light, and we realized that there was a constant chattering and clicking filling the room , not deafening , but a sign that disgusting elongated insects were all around us.  Then the smell hit us . That metallic scent of old coins, but now it was overpowering. It was difficult to breath  with that smell, and the air felt thick and ... Wrong. We felt crawling at our feet, and both jumped and shrieked at the thought of massive centipedes crawling into our boots , my brother accidentally flinging our light.  The flash light flew across the room , a good 10 feet away from us , seeming to teeter on the edge of some small hole in the center.    I always carried a flip lighter for lighting fires , and quickly pulled it out , the flame  banishing the darkness around us. The insects fled as the flames appeared, and we saw at our feet a mosaic of roots leading towards the hole in the center.  I grabbed my brothers arm , and I could feel him shaking . He head jerked around to look me in the eye. There was nothing but fear in his eyes. “We need to leave now.” He said. His mouth trembling , slowly speaking each word , leaving emphasis on the last.   I nodded fervently, and we ran quickly towards the hole to grab our flash light, for without it we wouldn’t be able to get out of this hell. And then the insects went silent. I tripped over a root , slamming instantly to the floor, and feeling my nose burst with blood upon hitting it on another root.  I tried to yell out to him, to stop him, but that fear filled me again, and my body was frozen stiff. All I could do was watch as my brother drew closer to the opening in the center of the room, and that’s when I realized what that metallic smell was. It should have came to us the moment we smelt it. We have been up to our arms in that stench almost every day of our lives. Blood. A black form slipped out of the hole, knocking the flash light farther away. I felt the roots around me tremble , and they began to pulsate and recede towards the hole. I felt myself being dragged towards the center, and somehow I was able to goad myself into running towards the tunnel we had came from. As I desperately  clawed my way towards escape, I realized my brother was still down there. And thats when it emerged.  I have no frame of reference for what it could have evolved from. No words for what exactly it was, for it was a conglomeration of insectoid parts ; its flesh purple and glistening like the innards of some animal , with the roots , clearly a part of it, weaving their way through its entire being. It had many legs like a centipede, but its head resembled a wasp, with hundreds of antennae from which dangled small glimmering lights .  It bathed the room in a deathly grey haze, and it turned its gaze upon my brother. I watched in horror as my brother, frozen in fear, stared up at the creature. Roots around my brother began to wrap around him, slinking their way into his boots, his pant legs, and through his jacket sleeves. The beast leaned down quickly , spewing some sort of bile all over my brother. I heard the chittering of insects begin again, and saw as millions of centipedes and earwigs swarmed their way towards my brother.    He began to scream as they descended upon his body, nibbling at his flesh and covering his entire being. The roots holding him flexed and began to move again, as I lost all bravery that was left and I fled up to my freedom. He began to scream louder and more violently , begging me for help , to not leave him in the dark. His words became muddled and choked, eventually silenced. Wondering what happened so suddenly I turned , at the precipice of the exit, and also began to scream. Roots had begun to slither their way inside his ears and mouth, stretching the flesh , blood pouring from the wounds. I crawled as quickly as I could through the tunnel, now devoid of all the previous roots we dealt with. I laughed and cried hysterically the whole way, and when I could finally stand, I clutched the nearest wall and began to scramble through the dark tunnels, hoping the scent of clean air was guiding me out. When I finally saw the light, I vomited until I was dry heaving, got up and ran home. ... 

The generator just went out. I am now writing by the light of a candle.  I hear them again, the centipedes . The banging has started again, but this time, I hear my brother screaming outside my door, begging me to help him. Father must be out hunting for the night since he hasn’t come home yet. Maybe the beast killed him. I’m so scared. I dont wan’t to die like that. I don’t want to be taken back to that cave. To that THING. Father if you find this letter, I’m sorry for the mess.

#short horror #first draft #insects #myoc

[chronicles-of-the-fringe]

The Fringe, Episode 6, Predation

   The colony of Theta Octanus IV is a small backwater planet in a likewise system. In the last three decades, the colony hadn’t changed much. With the exception of a few new houses and a fully sustainable farm, the walled colony was as it always had been. There were a few rules that everyone was forced to abide by, number one was never leave the walls. The outside was a dangerous place, there was a massive number of predatory creatures outside the walls but the defence force was most concerned about the packs of Smiling Devils which prowl the plains and forests. Diaboli risum Octanus is a highly sophisticated subspecies which hunt as a pack.

   There were tall tales that had been circulating the colony since its foundation. Stories of entire families leaving the walls and being hunted by Smiling Devils, the kinds of stories the Brothers Grimm would have spun. If it weren't for the innumerable claw marks on the outside of the walls, many people wouldn't stay inside the town. The defence forces had to be changed regularly, long nights filled with the taunting cries and incessant clawing of predators outside the walls leave men with shattered minds.

   The citizens of Theta Octanus IV had become restless, over thirty years had passed since the foundation of the colony yet all that had changed was the farm that keeps the townsfolk fed and the new houses for the families that have formed. Tensions were at an all time high and the predators outside could sense it. Countless meetings at town hall only helped to make matters worse. Fifteen hundred people lived within the walls and many of them wanted out. It wasn't very long after 6:00 PM on October twenty-fifth that the people of Theta Octanus IV broke out into a riot at the south gate. The anger that had been simmering for years finally boiled over. As the rioting grew more violent, many people attempted to overrun the defense force at the gate. Non-lethal ammunition had been authorized to stop the riot, this only made the frustrated citizens more furious.

   After an hour of pushing the rioters had finally broken the line and pushed to the gate. It wasn't long until the reinforced concrete gate broke, its locks torqued beyond repair and the hydraulic hinges destroyed. Despite the best efforts of the maintenance crews, nothing could repair the damage done by the riot. Night was coming and the defense force had moved all remaining assets to the south gate. It was impossible to tell if the packs of Smiling Devils would try to break down the remaining gate but they weren't going to risk it.

   Midnight approached quickly, there were three shifts that had been switching every hour, allowing them to get two hours of rest before going back out. At the stroke of midnight there was a thump on the gate, concrete dust rained down from the fifteen meter gate. A long, slender hand, tipped with four claws reached through the crack in the gate’s two massive doors. Its claws scraped against the concrete as it began to pull the gate door back. The defence forces started firing at the creature as its head peered through the gate.

  On the other side of the gate was a hellish sight. A pack of Smiling Devils had gathered outside the wall. Eleven paced as the one pried the gate open. Upon the sound of gunshots the other eleven stopped in their tracks. Their heads swiveled to the source of the sounds. One in the rear of the pack made a noise comparable to a dog's bark. Others stepped aside as it took a running start and slammed into the other door. The Devil with its hands around the door pulled harder and made a motion with its head similar to nodding at someone to come over. The others took turns slamming into the gate as the one pulled at the door.

   It wasn't long before a steady pattern of thuds and scrapes left an opening big enough for the pack. The defence force didn't have the right ordnance for this. It would take at least a seventy-five caliber anti-tank rifle to pierce the thick, scaly hide of a Smiling Devil. The first Devil came through the door and stopped in its tracks as an electric mine sent one million volts through its body. The reptilian creature continued on it's way after the trap had finished discharging. As its tail cleared the doorway another began to enter.

   Citizens were rushed toward the north gate in hopes that the defence force could stop the Devils. It was a futile attempt though. The colony had almost no revenue. No one but the administration knew that their contract with Carimbus Tactical Defense Systems had collapsed. The weapons they had were useless against the Devils. Bullets merely flattened against their rock hard hide and electric mines only made the creatures more agitated.

   The first man to die was lifted into the air and ripped apart. His screams of agony echoed over the gunfire as the massive canine tooth of a Devil pierced his armor and sank right into his torso. His blood splattered across the ground as his body was ripped in half. His screams were abruptly cut off as the creature swallowed his upper body. The other defencemen dropped their weapons and ran. Fear took over and the Devils basked in it. The scent of fear filled the cool midnight air. The only thing stopping the Devils from killing everyone now was a desire to toy with their prey. Packs of Diaboli risum Octanus love to play with their meals, to make it believe that it can find safety only to rip it away.

   When the gunfire stopped, everyone at the north gate began to panic. Their fear was at an all time high. When a report of the Devils making it passed the gate on a defenceman’s radio, the crowd knew that they would not last the night. Panic erupted and some of the more rowdy members of the crowd saw the opportunity for law breaking. Looting, murder, rape, everything that could get you arrested was free game now. As the second riot of the day was in full swing nobody really noticed the Devils slowly killing anyone in their path. The barn which held the colony’s crops went up in flames. A teen, known for getting into trouble, had no problem making a molotov cocktail in the chaos that enveloped the town. Unfortunately for him, the fire had drawn two Devils from nearby. He screamed in excruciating pain as the bloodthirsty creatures fought over him, ripping and tearing his flesh apart.

   As the flames at the farm climbed higher into the air, pandemonium destroyed the town. The transitional communication beacon began pulsing the emergency broadcast signal at around half past midnight. The noises of destruction and death drew other predators from outside the walls. Large, mammalian, wolf-like animals that prowled in the shadows and massive insectoids which used their large mandibles to cut prey in half. The town became a bloodbath. The Devils killed anything they pleased; humans, insectoids and mammals alike. Fires raged as more rioters burned buildings to the ground.

   As the early morning sun rose on the colony it was obvious that nothing was alive. Fires were still smoldering, casting thick, black smoke into the sky. It wasn't until the night of October thirty-first that a central government relief crew arrived. As they inspected the now dead town it was clear that something horrendous transpired here. When the crew arrived at the administration office they were surprised to find a descriptive account of what occurred six nights before. The relief team observed hours of video feeds, audio logs and typed reports. As they watched the videos, they were mortified by the complete decimation of the local population by the predatory creatures of the planet. It was as though a horror movie had leapt from the holo-display and ripped the town apart. Corpses littered the streets, fires burned much of the town to the ground, predators still lurked in the darkness and the scent of death lingered in the cool autumn air.

 As the relief team left Theta Octanus IV, they marked it as a lost colony. The official report stated that a riot left the town's defence force weakened and destroyed a gate, allowing predators to invade and destroy the town. The Central Government soon after passed a law that would give defence grants to poor Fringe colonies. PMCs soon lobbied and had the law swept under the rug. It was a shady deal but the corruption that had spread across the galaxy had first wormed its way into the government.

#The Fringe #Predation

[thesunlounge]

Reviews 237: Ai

I’ll never be able to resist the wild and freaky prog, psychedelia, and space music that came out of Germany during the 70s. It was this perfect convergence of psychoactive substances, futuristic electronics, spiritual mind expansion, and rock’n’roll shamanism that produced some of the music I cherish most and while there are many great examples of artists exploring this sound in the modern era, very few have overwhelmed me with krautrock and kosmische perfection like Ai. The collective of Matt Flores, Frank Bauer, Andreas von Hillebrandt, and Shunsuke Oshio first appeared on Slowboy Records’ Kingii comp in 2012 and followed that up three years later with “Anima Itako” on Theme for Great Cities’ third Mogul release. This track then appeared later in 2015 when Ai issued their debut self-titled full-length on Hauch, which was deep and far-out trip into motorik trance rhythms, space riff percolations, kaleidoscopic synthesis, and amorphous starscape bliss outs that could equally  soundtrack post-rave chill-out rooms and planetarium laser shows. For their second album II released at the end of 2018, Ai explore these same sonic spaces, but a slight change in personnel has augmented the sound in new and surprising ways. As opposed to their debut, Shunsuke Oshio only appears on four of II’s seven tracks and much of the guitar work has been transferred to new member Nima Moussavi, who brings a muscular 70s space rock riff energy as well as an even more pronounced level of interstellar prog majesty and funk and fusion fire. And in the shimmering “Amberica,” Amber Pine’s whispered vocals lead an etheric float down a river of dream-pop radiance.

Ai - II (Hauch, 2018) “Ai Theme” sets the stage with sweeping filters and sea blue hazes swirling above a balearic dreamscape. Downbeat electro-drums pound majestically through aquatic cloudrealms and vaporous pad washes smear together with romantic guitar atmospheres, with everything slowly phasing from one ear to the other. Chiming bubble melodies drift towards a sunburst sky while searing static waves swoon through romance motions and as we move towards the end, outerspace voice transmissions are surround by ever-evolving layers of oceanic mesmerism. At the other end of the A-side sits the gleaming pop of “Amberica,” which starts with a radiant soudbath of deep space filtering and chittering feedback. A dopamine drumbeat enters and cruises on light kick taps and air cracking snare smacks as dreamy vibraphone synthetics melt down from the sky. Heatwave brass layers swell around vibrato guitar weavings that at times evoke some sort of futuristic recollection of patriotic Americana, but this vibe is soon worked against by Amber Pine’s subversive and feminist beat poetry spells, which are delivered via sensual breaths and ambivalent whispers. She’s surrounded by immersive layers of shoegazing bassline funk, all subterranean sustain and riffing vibrations moving beneath wavering currents of guitar shimmer. I’m reminded of Amp, Bowery Electric, Jessamine, very early Spiritualized, and so much else from the golden age of pop-kissed 90s space rock, especially as Shunsuke Oshio radiates golden guitar magic that vibrates in tune with the universe while misty-eyed bassline lyricisms swim upwards through glowing reverb hazes.

In between “Ai Theme” and “Amberica” sits “Aruki Ikura,” where wind blown chimes and rustic guitars give way to riffing bass guitar heat and a mutant breakbeat riding on dazzling snare rolls and sizzling hat patterns. Frank Bauer’s ethereal prog organs descend and blistering noise waves swell while a spellbinding synth sequence works through the sky…starting subtle but slowly growing into a vocal strand of space acid magic that snakes continuously through the mix. After a rhythmic pause, the track erupts into pure motorik perfection with fat-bottomed basslines chugging beneath tight hypno-riffs and drums locking into an energetic krautrock stomp. The vibe sits somewhere between Neu! and Hawkwind, all pastoral psych magic intertwining with chugging space rock fire while phaser morphed organs fly through the sky. The Michael Rother airs are all the more pronounced when vaporous wah-wah licks enter, setting the stage for Nima Moussavi’s molten fuzz solo magic. Dreamy wailing guitar leads trail polychromatic tracers as the ultra-tight jam underneath threatens to explode, with massive drum fills and snare rolls surrounding liquid basslines as they slip and slide through LSD groove motions. Then the song fractures and fades into mist, before snapping back to life with a downbeat stoner funk jam out. Crystalline clean guitars underly moaning fuzz leads that play themes for majestic cloud kingdoms and eventually, Matt Flores works his rhythms back into a sunshine kosmisch glide while interstellar keyboard layers float the soul. And as we work towards the end, epic harmonizations and dueling leads locking together and climb towards a starscape horizon.

The first track on side B is split across three parts, with “Akai Indigo” seeing insectoid oscillations locking in with a fusion breakbeat jam-out. Snares skitter around tight kick and hat patterns while guitars drop deep blue shadow swells over exotic bass guitar walks. The panning oscillations grow ever more intense as they swim through distorted synth dream weavings and eventually the drums work into an upbeat gallop with off-beat snare flourishes and rhythmic clacks cutting through futuristic melody hazes and phaserwave oceans. Moving into  “Akai Indika,” chugging bass riffs, technoid kraut-disco rhythms, and percussive dial tones slam through a black haze nightscape and evoke Heldon soaring at hyperspeed. Shakers pulse ecstatically as alien oscillations chitter and laugh and there’s so much magic in Andreas von Hillebrandt’s basslines…like Jannick Top locked into a hypno-groove disco ritual. As clanging chimes lock into an Afro-folk starscape, layers of resonance grow in strength, causing the synths to sound like glowing balls of energy bouncing through a galactic tunnel. And after dramatic horror-prog chords flow down from dark skies, we transition into “Akai Indigo (Reprise).” It’s a return to a world of jamming psych basslines and splattery swinging drumbeats, though it’s all somehow more lo-fi than before…like far-out garage rock blasted onto the surface of the sun. Burning waves of guitar sorcery melt over the mix and eventually move through rippling wah-wah motions and reality tearing phase-shifts and near the end, galactic synth solos bring dark funeral enchantments before it all disappears into self-oscillating smoke.

Reso-filtered machine cymbals and paranoid percussion energies give way to dubwise basslines and phaser-blasted hi-hat chaos in “Aleister Instamatic,” while melodic electro-tom cascades circle overhead. Unintelligible voices beam in through shortwave radios as a sped up break beat enters, with switching and smacking snare magic intercutting deep bass drum thuds. Sequences flash overhead and recall the crazed lines dominating “Akuri Ikura”…as if playful electro-spiders are crawling across the mind…while skronked out guitar chords sit beneath cymbals splashes that are increasingly shrouded in galactic static. We then sweep upwards into a swooning robot romance chorus with Frank Bauer’s melancholic vocoder melodies melting the heart until the track cuts into a wild guitar passage filled with wah-wah trance vibrations, violent flanger and phaser oscillations, and bubble-form delay clouds. Everything eventually breaks down into crazed plastic crinkles and metallic liquid noise, with bass guitars chugging through a nightmare landscape. But as kick drums push dark clouds of reverb, the basslines are progressively reduced to abstract picking sounds and acoustic string vibrations before fading away almost entirely, leaving guitar mirages flashing side-to-side while incandescent hums emanate from deep space. Angry screams and cosmic wind gusts surround crazed guitar loopings and everything stretches and smears out, with heatwave noise blasts growing in strength as the skittering beats return. And after a sharp pause, we explode once more into the climactic vocoder chorus, now with sweeping string synth orchestrations raining down from the heavens and leading into a gemstone piano solo coda. 

“Anikulapo Immortal” starts in a world of smokey lounge jazz as basslines wander apart from tapped cymbals and midnight guitar chords. Anxious synth repetitions, floating aqueous hazes, and clattering rimshots move thorough air-sucking delay and reverb fx and Von Hillebrandt and Flores are in spiritual communion, with pulsating basslines supporting funked out tom-tom tribalisms. And as vocal breaths are spectrally morphed while deep space guitars shimmer like stars, I’m reminded of the ethnological forgery freak outs of Can and Amon Düül II and the side-long epics of Earthless. Galactic drone waves enter while the ecstatic groove motions flail ever forwards and there’s a growing sense of anticipation leading to a slow-burn explosion of dreamworld psychedelia and underwater jazz, wherein gemstone guitar strands are woven from liquid arpeggiations and spaghetti western slides. Then we transition sharply as low-down bass riffs stomp through a solar ascent, with palm-muted echo riffs, synth squiggles, and zany e-pianos floating on water waves. Flores revels in ride cymbal fire and revolving tom majesty while trancey pad smears and staccato riff bursts interlock with thunderous bass riffs….the whole thing evoking the hypno-prog and NWOFHM of Circle. Eventually the jam transitions from militant cosmic ritualism to post-rock majesty as Von Hillebrandt’s bass climbs through lyrical fantasias and leads us again into a passage of joyous pop-psychedelia and aquatic jazz, where haunted pad gases, e-piano vibrato weavings, chiming percolations, sliding guitars, and swinging cymbal and snare rhythms sit below distorted piano notes that seem to decay across the galaxy.

The track then shifts into a patient kick drum march with airy hi-hat taps fluttering and bewildering tom fill madness building in from the depths. Smoldering guitars riffs and shimmering cymbal taps cut through fogs of synth chaos, galactic reverb blasts, sci-fi chime cascades, and blistering filter weirdness and there’s so much ecstatic percussive energy as polyrhythms fly out in all directions. The bass guitar stomps and storms through the sky as the melodic layerings seem to devolve into clicks and scrapes. Then all of a sudden, a blazing guitar solo rips through the fabric of spacetime with bridge pick-up western twang and surf blues spiritualism smothered in slapback echo and white light vibrato fuzz. Breaky drum beats ride on golden cymbal taps and hypno-snare smacks while tambourines jangle joyously and wah-wah clicks flash across the spectrum. The rhythm guitars vibe out with bluesy hammer-ons and interstellar funk wiggles and Von Hillebrandt’s bass locks in and harmonizes with the sun-soaked psych soloing as the mix grows ever more anarchic and free, moving especially far-out once mind-melting organ drones blast in…their longform chordscapes drifting over the mix like muted rainbow light. And there’s a thrilling sense of transition, with the spirit being surrounded by aquamarine crystal hazes, searing feedback spirals, and crashing and thrashing cymbals as Ai work miraculously back towards that irrestible dreamwave psych and ocean jazz sway…a seamless transition from shamanic and shambolic psych bombast to instrumental pop enchantment. 

The album closes with “A Huge Structure Far Behind the Sun,” which earns the Orb-ian evocations of its title by foregounding a pulsating sequence that is continually worked through otherworldly filter and envelope modulations in a way recalling “A Huge Ever Growing Pulsating Brain that Rules from the Centre of the Ultraworld.” All around swirl primordial drones, UFO whooshes, ethereal washes of static, and hovering angel atmospheres as twinkling synth-pianos radiate webs of crystal. Warm swells of distortion break free from the rhythmic swirl of planetarium phase-shifters and the soul glides eternally on soft feedback pulses, filter morphing wave fronts, and layered strands of electronic fire…all while the hallucinogenic lead sequence morphs through long flowing decay trails and sharp staccato percolations. At some point, the bubbling yet subtle currents of rhythm give way to amorphous mermaid dirfstscapes, whale song oscillations, and deep sea lullabies that bring to mind Michael Stearns, Tangerine Dream’s Zeit, Seahawks, and Anna Själv Tredje. It’s pure psychoactive ritualism submerged within an underwater dreamscape where infinite webs of shimmering jewels are constructed from e-piano fractals and electro-bubbles. Mind-melting cymbal swells move into the mix then fade into ether and the Orb-ian galaxy sequence continues weaving polychromatic strands while sometimes overtaking the mix with transcendent blasts of spectral sonic vapor. And beneath it all, heavily treated guitars are transmuted into temple bells.

As we go along, the track continue to spread out and submerge itself within a sea of LSD tracers…as if the mind is being wrapped around by vibratory threads of every possible color. Sparkling melodies, screaming fuzz arcs, and blinding synth solos intertwine while all throughout the mix float the sounds of electrified marbles rolling through echo-caverns. The dreamscape lead sequence swims through modulating waves of distortion and slow motion oscillators accelerate into hyperspace spirals while interstellar resonances create droning clouds of warmth. And as we move deeper into the otherworldly electronic miasma, I am increasingly reminded of Experimental Audio Research, especially Beyond the Pale and Mesmerised…just a joyous celebration of the possibilities of analog synthesis to evoke neon jungle environments on emerald planets or seas of intergalactic gas crashing upon diamond shores. Overt rhythms are abandoned, as are MIDI-sequencing and programming, with Ai instead reveling in human manipulations of crazed alien electronics.  Starlight keys add further layers of cosmic shimmer while swelling currents of cymbal metal push the spirit towards ecstasy and moving towards the end, delay trails and reverb tails start merging together…like lapping ripples of feedback spreading outwards on a surface made of glass.

(images from my personal copy)

#ai #ii #hauch #matt flores #frank bauer #andreas von hillebrandt #shunsuke oshio #nima moussavi #krautrock #kosmische #space rock #psychedelic rock #psych rock #psychedelia #cosmic #prog #progressive rock #fusion #funk #space music #Düsseldorf #germany #album reviews #vinyl reviews #music reviews #vinyl #2018 #sun lounge #octagon eyes