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allourmachinations · 9 years ago

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A Dead God

15 September 2322 AD

“You were a tough one to reach. Always verging on the edge of realizing the truth, but never quite making the jump. Quick to question your sanity too, but I suppose we have Zìral to thank for that.” God spoke to me.

I hurried to write down every syllable as he spoke, his deep voice resonating through my mind. How could I have ever questioned my sanity? This was real.

“I didn’t think he would have the strength left to corrupt your visions. He made you go through the terrible things you witnessed in a feeble attempt to push you away from me. Little did he know your force of will, your loyalty, your endurance. Fear not my child, for his influence on you was already waning, and now that I am here he is truly powerless.”

I had not been in contact with God for long, but he had already thoroughly explained everything. Our lord had even confirmed Gerald’s suspicions! There really is a presence within all of us, but it is not God nor it is a remnant of him.

He spoke of Zíral, a demon that had managed to claim us through treason:

“… and it was in those early eons that he came before them. He found their grudges and spread them thin, discovered their flaws and whispered sin, perceived their pain and flared it high. The people he burned, he ate their souls in the sky.

Their minds were broken and molded anew and it were these shattered souls who eventually became his first acolytes. It was one of them who ultimately betrayed mankind. He turned their hearts away from me and made them worship this demon. In the end that gave him the power to cast me away, until you found me.”

I did not just hear God speak, but he showed me the scene in my mind too. It really felt as if I had been a firsthand witness.

“You are, however, not the only one who knows this. There are those who actively worship this fiend and proclaim I’m dead. They did not want me to be found.”

“The necrotic church.”, I whispered, but I could not hear God’s voice anymore.

It did not matter. God had shown me the path and now I only had to take it.

I went to the conference room to find that the other scientists had all been gathered there already. They had built a small stage and Dr. Havard was speaking to the crowd.

“… fire that’ll rain down on the faithless if we do our part. Brighter days are coming, fellow catalysts. They’ll soon regret declaring war on the heavens!”

He delivered his speech like a man possessed and only stopped when his eyes found me.

“And here he is, ladies and gentlemen, our prophet!”, he yelled as I climbed up the stage myself. He handed me his mic and left me in front of the crowd.

For a moment I just stood there thinking about how this situation would have made me feel uneasy in the past. That was before God had filled me with his strength and amplified my own.

“God has trusted us with one very important task indeed. We are to set the necrotic church ablaze, but we should not lose track of who the real enemy is. Their priests are misguided just as we all were. Kill only those whose spirits have been crushed completely. We are to spark the fire in those who can be saved and let our lord wash away the filth. All of us will serve as his amplifier.”, I thought of Gerald. He could not help what he did.

“We were lost before our Lord first spoke to us. Our vanity shrouded our impotence as we masked our sins with disbelief. This can last no longer!”

I enjoyed the silence that followed after I screamed that last sentence.

“Together we can pull humanity away, out of the claws of this fiend. Are you with me, are you with the lord? Then let us make the change!”

The crowd had dispersed quickly after my speech. While I had motivated them, it seemed as if they had all been given their own particular tasks. I understood, as God had told me exactly what to do too. All gears had been set in motion and it was time for me to do my part as well.

It took me a while to find them amongst the crowd, unmoving and with their gaze fixed on me. There were six of them.

My team.

#creepypasta #writing

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allourmachinations · 9 years ago

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The Nerevarine Prophecies

Chapter 4c: Ties

It felt as if hours had passed before Fedril spoke to him again. His teeth had long since pierced his lips and a stream of warm blood, coming from his broken nose, flowed over his face.

“Tell me, outlander. So I may finish this.” Fedril spoke, his voice seemingly coming from far away. He punched Rivanon in the stomach once more and made him cough up blood. “Now.”

“I’ve got a package for…”, Rivanon could barely spit out the words, “for Caius Cosades.”

“What?”, Fedril gasped in terror, taking a step back, “And he is expecting you? Azura be damned! Let him go.” Relunctantly, the thugs let go of Rivanon and his knees gave in immediately.

“Let him go, there’s been too many witnesses.”, Fedril raised his hands, “Just make sure to tell Caius we spared you, outlander.” He spit and walked away, leaving Rivanon there trembling and shaking on the cobblestones. It took forever before he found the strength to stand up again. It was a long, painful and winding walk back to the main street. The whole ordeal had brought him no further, and his body protested at every step. There was no way he would find Caius tonight, but soldiering on and spending the night out on the streets was not an option either. He sought support against the wall as his thoughts started to drift away.

“Hey, are you okay?”, a voice echoed in his mind, “Here. Drink this.” Rivanon instinctively drank and witnessed his vision slowly returning, revealing his rescuers’ worried face.

“Ahnassi.”, the Khajit said pointing at himself, “I haven’t seen you here before, but you’re a lucky elf. Lucky Ahnassi was carrying a health potion with him, at least.” Ahnassi promptly pulled the –still weakened- Rivanon to his feet: “When I saw Fedril coming out of there, I expected that I’d be scavenging a corpse.” Rivanon slowly felt his body recover and managed to take a few hesitant steps. He sure was not risking another meeting with men like Fedril. And what to think of this Caius Cosades fellow? Did he really want to meet the person who scared Fedril like that?

“I’m Rivanon. Thank you.”, he said, trying to clear the pain out of his throat, “Do you happen to know where I can find Caius Cosades?” The Khajit smiled, though his eyes spelled shock: “Many questions, even for an outlander. You’re meddling with the likes of Fedrila and Caius yet you’ve clearly never been here before.”

Their eyes met and Ahnassi shrugged: “Fine, keep your secrets. He lives over there next to the watchtower. I don’t know what your business is with him, but you still owe me a story about how you stopped Fedril from skinning you alive.” Ahnassi nodded him farewell disappeared into an alley as Rivanon nervously made his way to Caius’ house. There was no telling what to expect.

#Nerevarine #writing #Morrowind #fan fiction?

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allourmachinations · 9 years ago

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The Nerevarine Prophecies

Chapter 4b: Ties

“More sujamma?” the innkeeper asked rather agitated.

“Yes please”, Rivanon answered, buying himself some more time. Glares and grumbling alone would not repel him from his spot in the corner. He could overlook the entire room from there and even overhear the occasional conversation. Although he mainly picked up sneers at House Redoran instead of anything useful. Rivanon already knew about the Dunmer great houses. Any Dunmer back in Cyrodiil with a distant cousin in one of the houses had not been able to shut up about it. The fact that only houses Hlaalu, Telvanni and Redoran had colonized the island was mostly food for scholars, though. If anything the remarks about House Redoran showed that Balmora itself was quite obviously Hlaalu territory. It had become clear ,however, that he would not hear about Caius Cosades here. Such a shame, Rivanon thought, as ‘The Eight Plates’ was a cozy place and the solitary table was a definite plus.

Ah well, at least he would not have to frantically try and keep others away from his spot anymore or deal with the angry innkeeper. Rivanon stood up and made his way for the door just as it flew wide open and three men barged in. It were the thugs he had seen earlier that day and unfortunately they recognised him too. “Well, if it isn’t the outlander”, said their leader with a demonic grin. He gestured and his cronies approached Rivanon from the sides, surrounding him completely. What now?

Rivanon turned to the innkeeper in desperation. Surely he could not approve of fighting indoors? “Fedril!”, the innkeeper yelled at their leader, “I told you I didn’t want any more fights in here.”

“Don’t worry friend, we’ll leave. As long as that outlander leaves with us.”, Fedril pointed at Rivanon who could feel a cold shiver trailing along his spine. The innkeeper sighed and turned around where his eyes met with Rivanon’s. He had hesitated, not wanting to throw out one of his customers, until he recognized Rivanon and his smile became unbelievably sly.

“You heard the man”, he grinned. Meanwhile the other customers tried their best to keep their conversations going, avoiding eye contact with Rivanon whenever they could. He struggled helplessly as two of the thugs dragged him outside. “Quick. Get him to an alley,” Fedril told them before turning his attention to Rivanon, “What’s an outlander like you doing in Balmora anyway?”

Fedril’s two cronies slammed Rivanon with his back against the wall in spine-shattering fasion, the pain keeping him from struggling as he clenched his teeth. A moment later Fedril came standing before him and smiled viciously, “Don’t worry, I’ll just beat it out of you.” Rivanon managed to fend them off for a while. Afterwards there reigned only pain.

#Nerevarine #writing #Morrowind #fan fiction?

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allourmachinations · 9 years ago

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The Nerevarine Prophecies

Chapter 4a: Ties

Neldam, yeah that was his name, wanted to hit himself. He would do anything to feel alive, to feel as if he was still in control. But he could not. Alas, it would not let him.

He felt like screaming. It was just a wall, so why was he still staring? What was even real anymore? He desperately tried to open his eyes and wake up. There are no answers here.

He woke up panting, laying in a pool of his own sweat. There was no way he could tell what was real anymore. Was he growing mad?

No, he had to accept that he was awake now, finally free from the dreams. Why did he still crave them so though? The dreams about the man with the golden mask had changed him beyond repair. The elf stood up. He longed to smash his skull against the wall until it cracked. Anything to silence the voices in his head. There was no way he could ever lead a normal life again anyway, was there? We are all part of the dream now. The dreamers were being called, told what to do. We were given orders, he thought and the worlds became one.

It was already dawn when Rivanon arrived at Balmora, and it was quite the surprising sight. The buildings were made out of very smooth stone with few ornaments, besides the occasional arch or curl, and were often even windowless. They reminded Rivanon of blocks he played with as a kid, though only a giant would be able to stack them. He walked through the gates, left his mouth dangling open and gawked like the tourist he was. Once again it struck him just how foreign this new world really was, that he was a Dunmer who barely understood his own culture. “Move it outlander!”, someone yelled and Rivanon was immediately pushed out of the way. He turned around to see three Dunmer men staring at him. They were all standing out in the open as the crowd gave them space as if they had seen it all before.

“You really do know how to pick them from the crowd, Vekar”, smirked one of them as he lousily leaned on his staff. That one seemed to be their leader, dressed in expensive clothes and wielding a finely carved staff. The other two barely grinned, but stared at him with cold eyes instead. Thugs, Rivanon knew. Their icy demeanor formed quite the contrast with the fiery hate that ruled their leaders eyes as he spoke again.

“You’re lucky to come here today, outlander. Not so long ago we’d have torn the likes of you apart.” Rivanon straightened his back but was not sure what to think. Outlander? He was a Dunmer too. Luckily, they had caught the attention of some guards who were slowly making their way there.

“It’s a sad day when the Hlaalu are too busy sweet-talking the empire, instead of keeping out the filth, “ he stared back at the guards with murder in his eyes and spit at Rivanon’s feet before walking away, followed by his two cronies. The crowd walked past Rivanon again, and the guards continued on their path as well. Rivanon sighed, it was probably best to find a tavern, have a few drinks there and ask around about Caius Cosades.

#Nerevarine #writing #Morrowind #fan fiction?

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allourmachinations · 9 years ago

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