The serpent coiled beneath the soil of earth, waiting for his time, anxious in the final days of his rest. Long ago his coming was foretold; men with bare mastery of fire carving visions into stone, setting the stage, the warning, for future generations. 'In time' they said 'the serpent shall crack the soil and rise, as the one-who-swims-in-sky shall descends from his dark throne, wrapping the world in their embrace.' The visions were as plain as the warnings; all life would recoil, the fire of the souls of man snuffed out by the millions, until there was but one left in madness, left to dream the terrible nightmares that would cast the world in darkness for a thousand years.
Later generations must understand - the calendar would stop, not to reset anew, but to mark the end of all things. On the last day the sun would set, and night would rise… and with it, the twin horrors would mark the dawn of the age of madness… when the mind of Chronos himself would be undone; when space time and thought would have no meaning, when only the swirling chaos of eternal night and shadow would remain.
Clad only in rags, a rough stone hammer and blunted chisel, the mason carved his calendar in trusted rock, working until his hands were numb and his fingers bled; recording the dreams of the oracle as heard in water and seen in flame. The dreams of the future depended on him; generations from now, they would understand, and know how to keep the end times at bay. The mason knew not how, but it would happen… it must. Future generations may not know him, but they would know his warnings, and keep the serpent and the one-who-swims-in-sky from cursing the world with their eternal night.
But… it was not to be.
Across thousands of years and countless generations, the warnings went the way of all words and lost their impact. What was once called the end of days was now merely 'the end of this world.' The hubris of man, his faith in his own understanding… it all spoke surely that nothing could truly end the world; nothing would end all things. Even his own mighty gifts, crafted in the forges of science when men dared touch the fires of Prometheus and gaze upon the powers of the sun. Even when his most potent minds dared embrace the power of the daystar for their own weaponry… even these mighty machines of war could not end the world.
No, the world was the world, and the ending of one world could mean naught but the dawn of a new one. As summer gives way to snow… and snow gives way to summer, the times could only mean the birth of something new, a cycle as old as creation itself.
The serpent smiled at such arrogance, while the one-who-swims-in-sky felt mirth in nothing, yet knew it's own greatest secret had been revealed… and ignored lest it test the sanity of all things; the wisdom, as spoken many times, yet never with true understanding. Co-opted for their precious Lucifer, a more approachable evil for the mortal mind...
"The greatest trick the devil ever pulled, was convincing the world, he did not exist."
Long tentacles coiled on the dark side of the moon, it waited for the night sky, when it could finally embrace the lone dreamer, and set the world to formless madness once again.
Across the globe, the winds blew and the rains fell, water running in small rivers across the calendar of stone, washing clean the warning for all to see… yet none would understand.
As the daylight waned. the one-who-swims-in-sky hungered behind the moon, his tentacles slowly unfurling in their great bulk, while beneath the soil, the destroyer or man sprang to life, opening one hungry, eager eye.
The ground shook briefly, as the serpent readied itself, looking up to the world…
And shuddered as a blade, black as night, plunged through the soil and into it's skull.
The serpent was frozen in agony, letting out a silent cry as dark energies crackled and twisted the length of its body. Blackness infused its' skin, running veins of nothing in rivers down its' scales and wings, corrupting the corruptor, taking possession of the serpent and laying him back to rest.
Necali pulled Void from the soil and looked up to the sky, disappearing with a small popping noise only to reappear on the dark side of the moon, stabbing the great squid in one great hateful eye, feeling the rush of power as the great destroyer was equally claimed by void, just as the serpent was.
The Vampires' eyes flashed dark for an instant, and Void stared directly into the most potent face of nightmares the world has ever known.
"Amateurs… this world doesn't end on your clock… it ends on mine."
With that the great squid was absorbed into the sword, the world was left to rest… for now.
Below, as night fell, mortals went from door to door, singing songs and shopping for gifts, while others mocked the warnings the mason had recorded so many generations ago, sipping their nogs and their brandies, never the wiser to how close they came to the end times… nor how close it still remained.
And so it was the end of the world was not so much averted by heroes or the warnings of old… but delayed by the will of one villain, who in perfect villain form, had no patience for its' fellows when they tried to jump the line.
Happy, healthy, and cheerful holidays - to say nothing of a joyous dawning of a new world - to everyone
Later generations must understand - the calendar would stop, not to reset anew, but to mark the end of all things. On the last day the sun would set, and night would rise… and with it, the twin horrors would mark the dawn of the age of madness… when the mind of Chronos himself would be undone; when space time and thought would have no meaning, when only the swirling chaos of eternal night and shadow would remain.
Clad only in rags, a rough stone hammer and blunted chisel, the mason carved his calendar in trusted rock, working until his hands were numb and his fingers bled; recording the dreams of the oracle as heard in water and seen in flame. The dreams of the future depended on him; generations from now, they would understand, and know how to keep the end times at bay. The mason knew not how, but it would happen… it must. Future generations may not know him, but they would know his warnings, and keep the serpent and the one-who-swims-in-sky from cursing the world with their eternal night.
But… it was not to be.
Across thousands of years and countless generations, the warnings went the way of all words and lost their impact. What was once called the end of days was now merely 'the end of this world.' The hubris of man, his faith in his own understanding… it all spoke surely that nothing could truly end the world; nothing would end all things. Even his own mighty gifts, crafted in the forges of science when men dared touch the fires of Prometheus and gaze upon the powers of the sun. Even when his most potent minds dared embrace the power of the daystar for their own weaponry… even these mighty machines of war could not end the world.
No, the world was the world, and the ending of one world could mean naught but the dawn of a new one. As summer gives way to snow… and snow gives way to summer, the times could only mean the birth of something new, a cycle as old as creation itself.
The serpent smiled at such arrogance, while the one-who-swims-in-sky felt mirth in nothing, yet knew it's own greatest secret had been revealed… and ignored lest it test the sanity of all things; the wisdom, as spoken many times, yet never with true understanding. Co-opted for their precious Lucifer, a more approachable evil for the mortal mind...
"The greatest trick the devil ever pulled, was convincing the world, he did not exist."
Long tentacles coiled on the dark side of the moon, it waited for the night sky, when it could finally embrace the lone dreamer, and set the world to formless madness once again.
Across the globe, the winds blew and the rains fell, water running in small rivers across the calendar of stone, washing clean the warning for all to see… yet none would understand.
As the daylight waned. the one-who-swims-in-sky hungered behind the moon, his tentacles slowly unfurling in their great bulk, while beneath the soil, the destroyer or man sprang to life, opening one hungry, eager eye.
The ground shook briefly, as the serpent readied itself, looking up to the world…
And shuddered as a blade, black as night, plunged through the soil and into it's skull.
The serpent was frozen in agony, letting out a silent cry as dark energies crackled and twisted the length of its body. Blackness infused its' skin, running veins of nothing in rivers down its' scales and wings, corrupting the corruptor, taking possession of the serpent and laying him back to rest.
Necali pulled Void from the soil and looked up to the sky, disappearing with a small popping noise only to reappear on the dark side of the moon, stabbing the great squid in one great hateful eye, feeling the rush of power as the great destroyer was equally claimed by void, just as the serpent was.
The Vampires' eyes flashed dark for an instant, and Void stared directly into the most potent face of nightmares the world has ever known.
"Amateurs… this world doesn't end on your clock… it ends on mine."
With that the great squid was absorbed into the sword, the world was left to rest… for now.
Below, as night fell, mortals went from door to door, singing songs and shopping for gifts, while others mocked the warnings the mason had recorded so many generations ago, sipping their nogs and their brandies, never the wiser to how close they came to the end times… nor how close it still remained.
And so it was the end of the world was not so much averted by heroes or the warnings of old… but delayed by the will of one villain, who in perfect villain form, had no patience for its' fellows when they tried to jump the line.
Happy, healthy, and cheerful holidays - to say nothing of a joyous dawning of a new world - to everyone
