Well!The time has finally arrived to begin storing amore publically accessible record of the times and events of an alternate omniverse, yet one so close to home as to have you left wondering...
It's been going on 13 years since this stuff was originally concieved of by me, slowly growing at first, gaining ideas and concepts, then growing geometrically as it begins to be filled with plot, event, intent, reputation, and history.....
Now it is rapidly growing beyond containment, I have to get it out! The characters, enemies, allies, and monsters won't allow me to shelter you from them any longer!
To begin I will be updating this work in progress blog whenever it suits me, so you can get an idea of the world i'm introducing to you, while i work on some more detailed work.
What you will find here will be general prophecy...
Really.
Someone will be predicting what will fall out of my omniverse and land in ours for you readers to devour with your eyes...
The trouble with predictions, however, is accuracy cannot be gaurenteed. Accuracy of either event or timing... So dont get your hopes up if you happen to see something you REALLY like and WANT to see..... Some of these might never even come to be.
You've been warned.
Visions from Katzi:
From the eyes of the priestess:
Horrible monsters, former men now grotesquely twisted by some unknown toxic plague... Barely aware of themselves, no memories left. They are filled with dispair, lashing out at the nearest living being, starving for fulfillment. The pain they feel is so great! They are blinded by their own suffering! No longer resembling their former species, these monstrosities infest and infect all the largest cities. None are safe.
She has seen great suffering across the world!
Military has gone underground in many places. Where military is a known presence, one might not question their scene... But these are mere scouts for a larger hive! A massivecomplex is hidden somewhere, oh so many souls screaming out from down below... Military tests of arcane properties, A Cyborg Leigon... Even the dead know no rest!!
The priestess weeps of such horrors in contrast to the heroics!
Not all is so totally bleak, SOME stand above the mass grave with dignity, few remain, but such potential they possess... Their nerves hardened from the carnage around them, hearts steeled against all remorse! A victorious Incubus stained by the blood of his enemies, a lonesome elf and his cocamammy companions, two shape shifters; brothers yet mortal enemies making amends, the return of the elder races, a shattered moon stoic and proud-watching over the world even after suffering such damage!
She weeps for all life as she tells of a massive Human being. Not a giant, once a simple student... Now a walking breathing behemoth of catastrophe... None shall survive his footfalls...
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Firelight flickers off the walls of the small cabin in the mountains, as the priestess gently lays a small pitchy log across the top of the dying flame. The sizzle and snap of the burning sap satisfies the senses.
"You'll see them in time yourself if you remain here long. Horrors that will scar you for the remainder of your days. You can still leave if you wish. I would, if I hadn't this burden of clear sight... But if you wish to hear more, maybe I can convince you yet! -that this is no place for you!"
Shadows appear to crawl out of the walls, and the popping and cracking of the sap excited the fire as much, as the fire burns through. Looks like it could use another log.
"A man, clouded in a terrible and fearsome dark aura, peers at me through the veil of dreams; as though he is looking at me looking at him. I dare not blink. This man, his presence is powerful and claustrophobic, as though I am being crushed and suffocated from the inside out! I can feel him breathing, as though he were breathing through me, even stealing my own breath... Oh! How angry he is, I can feel him, I feel I am him, I know him, I AM HIM!! SO ANGRY, I MUST have power... I must have it all! I WILL EAT YOU FOR YOUR QI, I MUST HAVE POWER...!"
Her voice groaning and churning as though magma chambers had replaced her vocal cords.
"...He is going to devour us all if we let him..." She says, weeping...
You watch a tear stream down her cheek and bend 90 degrees to float toward you. It drains vertically across gravity, defying physics and splashes into your own eye. Suddenly you are pulled into the vision yourself, as though you were seeing from her eyes, you watch yourself fade from your vision, from her vision!
"Get him out of here!" The doctor demanded, frustration encompassing his visage.
"I don't care if he's the father, get security!!"
Two nurses scurry out swiftly followed by one more, more calmly, who would summon the hospital security guards.
"THE BOY IS MINE!" The massive Karateka boomed, "HE WILL BE BORN BY MY WILL!!" His voice shaking the very foundations of the little Mongolian hospital.
The head doctor tried in vain to remain focused on the mother's failing health, but between her screams of pain, the father's terrible indignation, and the coming baby: He was spread too far, too thin. He kept his eyes on the crowning infant, but so distracted he was, that he seemed to zone out repeatedly.
He was about to yell 'get out' at the father as he snapped back to and saw the baby's head emerging, "I see the head!" he blurted out even though the nurses hadn't returned yet.
"ENOUGH!"
The enormous man back handed the doctor clear through the reinforced concrete wall and his hand began to glow with neon blue embers, which grew darker and darker.
The militia occupying the hospital stormed in following the one no-longer-calm nurse, who was now terrified by the deep dark glowing light surrounding the father's fist. She shrieked and fled the delivery room.
The lead militant sternly ordered, "Halt!" A feeble attempt at dealing with this monster, who merely ignored the militia, which had only begun to register his terrible visage. Dark, glowing, neon light emanating from his fists, pure white eyeballs without irises or pupils, hair seeming to stand on end by its own accord, the militiaman began to choke on his next words and could not speak, out of pure terror. The man behind him had no loss of courage and drew his weapon. "Don't Move!!"
Without even looking, the monster pointed his arm at the small security group and launched a neon indigo ball of burning Qi, blasting 3 of the 4 militants, leaving nothing but burning indigo footprints left in their place. The remaining militiaman became petrified, eyes wide in terror. The burning indigo fist, now darker, once dark blue, indigo, now black, somehow even neon black, slowly panned toward the last man standing. He couldn't move, but began to tremble and whimper. With what pitifully small relief he could feel, he watched the man's arm continue to arc past him and course toward the mother. He regained enough mobility to sate his fear of losing sight of the karateka, and watched him rest his burning hand a few inches above the mother. He swept slowly, and slowly swept his hand over her body, over her chest, and rest his palm just above her heart. Her moaning and wallowing of pain turned to screams and racking sobs, intensifying beyond the capacity of the human body to either emit or withstand as he slowly pressed in and seized her heart. Her screams of unnatural pain welling up and overflowing into brief wails of death and quickly subsiding to silence.
Reaching into the mother's uterus, the monstrous demonic man gently retrieves his unborn son who immediately begins to wail from within his mother the whole way out. The man becomes hereto so far uncharacteristically kind, soft, and gentle. Even a feint glimmer of a smile crosses the corner of his lips for a very brief moment. He then scowls and turns to the terrorized man behind him. "You will live to tell the tale, but only long enough to tell it."
He raises his arm slowly until it is parallel with the ground. His arm quickly becomes that same neon black aura and then sets the man on fire. Black fire. The worst kind of fire: It dies out quickly, but its victim dies out slowly...
The room slowly comes back, through a syrupy foam of color and light; your head is thudding loudly, everything is blurry, the cabin is empty, it's been 12 hours... What do you do now...?
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Oh, yeah... Also:
Unless otherwise indicated, all content is (c) Jonathon D. Turner; Alias Redundant Jovian Thor (R. J. Thor). Any similarities to persons, places, or things; living, undead, factual, animate, fictional, inanimate, dead, nonliving, holy, evil, divine, or unholy are purely coincidental. All Rights Reserved.
