Ratharian Dreams

Chapter 4: The Past

2004-09-18T14:11:00.000-07:00

"In workings with the Drowic society one must remember that the culture is wholy unlike those of the surface world. They practice a matriach-fueled polygamy which advocates mere slavery to most males, although one of magical learning may be afforded some respect. In recent times, however, it has become neccesary to push these ideological differences aside, and ally to overcome threats to Rathar and it's neighbors, be they underground or not.
Drow history is marked by an Excommunication from the southermost points of the world into what is commonly referred to as the Underdark. These southern elves always could be pointed to by their markings: jet black skin and the whitest of hair. They worshipped the Goddess Lloth, Queen of Spiders, who gave to them secrets of dark magic. Soon afterwards, other Elves began to persecute these brethren for the so-called unholy practices common in Drowic cities. The Sylvan elves mounted a pan-racial force bent on the destruction of the Drowic Race of infidels. Not yet at the militant point of today, the Drow immigrated down into the deepest regions of the world, and soon the sect of Lloth took control of all dealings in everyday life of a Drow."-History and Understanding of Our Drowic Brethren by Wilhelm Rathar I

***

The council of Matrons gathered around in their secret cavern, settling around the stone table plundered from a raid on Dwarves many years past. The High Preist to Lloth sat at the high end, watching over all the decisions, though she had no say in the ruling of the city. Her position at the council only came as an adviser into the whims of the Spider Queen. In the back of the room, a wizened male drow with a beard dropping to the ground and a braid in his exceptionally long hair leaned against an ornate staff decorated by carvings of poison arachnids. Whenever the Matrons looked at this male, they scowled, for the powerful position of mage could only be delegated to males. (One of the many contridictions of the Goddess Lloth.)

Shyntiara Tal, the Matron of the Auvrygyhm, called the council to order by taking roll. Spiders crawled around her, to show particular attention by the great Goddess. As she began the buisness, they bounded down to the table and fed on meat set out for them.

"Are we all present? Matrons of the Third and Fourth houses?"
" Aye."

"Those of the Fifth, Sixth, Seventh houses?"

"We are represented, you grace."
"Matron Shribryn of Kilndar, former first house."

"Begruding, I am here, in hopes to regain my Honoured Mothers position."

"She had not been honoured, for she took a subservient role to her husband." Spat out the Matron of the fifth house, drawing an elongated dagger showered with jagged edges.
"The council is not for fighting." Interposed the High Priestess, also of the former first house.

"You do not have the interests of the Council nor the city at your heart, for we know that you too are of the Kilndar household." the challenging Matron argued.

"How dare one such as yourself suggest that, less-than-male Deate Matron. We know your position is arranged through a marriage to a seer of an upper house, and you took the true Matron's life with help from your third child of the masculine persuasion, who you attempted to convince Lloth had merits. You and he shall be given death at the hands of my houses least slave, and you carcasses sent to rot on the surface." As the preistess spoke, spiders jetted out of her hair, and landed by those owned by the matron of the first household. Thes spiders joined together and advanced upon the honourless Deate, and began to tear her face apart with their posion bites. In less than half a minute, she lay dead upon the table, with the arachnids crawling around her. They fed upon the juices still among her body, and retired to their positions upon their owners. Shyntiara Tal of Auvrygyhm looked over to the mage, standing idly in the corner, his expreion at once full of amusal and murderous intent.

"Look here, even this man is a greater drow than she."

"Agreed." chorused the other households. As they did, another drow of noble persuasion entered, bowing before the council.

"Greetings, Illiam Aeerel, Matron of Teken'th, Eigth House of the Council. Are you prepared?"

"It is my duty as a Mother."

"Very well, take your seat. Mage Sorn Vyr'kah!"

"Yes, my Honoured Mother?"

"Rid us of the male impostor corpse."

"Of coure, Matron." With a few quick waves, the body and stench dissapeared into oblivian. Illiam Areel of Teken'th took the space given to her when all shifted to seats fitting their new positions.

"I have not yet finished the calling of members," stated the Head of Council, "Have we the most honoured High Priestess G'eld Driira among us?"
"I have come to honour you, Matron Shyntaria Tal of Auvrygyhm."

"We are honoured, Spider-teacher. Have we Sorn Vyr'kah, head of the mages?"
"Hounred matrons, mothers, dear women, strongest and most noble, I have arrived to do you bidding without question."

"He is most honourable", remarked Shribyn, "is he claimed, for surely he will give most strong offspring."

"I am not."

"Silence, you have not been given leave to speak." shrieked the first Matron. "He is not, Honoured Matron of Kilndar."

"If this is so, I claim him mine."

"Lloth sees it." the High Priestess stated, as she took the jagged knife that still lay upon the table, and bled the two to be joined. "Until the Honoured mother breaks the ties, this servant shall be a child giver." The mage returned to his corner, and bowed, showing his utter devotion to the women, and subservience to the council. The joined-Matron took her seat as the council began in earnest.

"Our best Warrior, the Princess Wyss'Jhael Ue of the Queen's house of Everhlyl, our holy house of the Cavern of the Blade, the greatest of our city and therefore ruler, has been stuck down by an outsider known as Wilhelm of Rathar. We cannot abide this, and have sent our men to attack the neighboring region at once. We will have vengence." stated Shribyn as she laid out a map of the surface which displayed the troops movements as they made them. The task-force almost arrived at it's destination, when a second series of dots jumped from almost nowhere, destroying many of the Drowic Army. The resistance of the dark elves eventually awarded them the battle, at the cost of many lives. The Council spoke in hushed tones, arguing with each other over what must be done. Then, the mother of the Second House stood and spoke loudly, in a colourful manner, to the Head of Council.

"We must strike back at this new nation of Rathar at once, sparing no warrior, and sending the best Females as well, for surely the battle could have been won in more ease with the leadership of a Woman."

"This may be true, but we have received a dispacth from a human female named Allanta Parisia, sent by this Wilhelm, in a quest for peace. She speaks to us now."

The council turned to see a human girl, no older nor younger than seventeen enter the room. A grim countenance hung about her and the bearskin and leather clothing she let drape around her. Blood dripped from her mouth, as she kneeled to the council.

"What is this blood?" asked a council member.

"That of a man who dared into my way."

"Is this a custom of Wilhelm's Women?" asked another Matron.

"Nay, it is a custom of my land, to the north, called the Fertile Valley of the Holy Mother our River of the Rhine."

"Why do you come to do the bidding of Wilhelm of Rathar?" The Matron interrigated

"In the interest of peace and understanding. While Wilhelm lacks knowledge of Matriarchal ways, he recognizes that they are not to be discredited. The Time-Magi Ezruhli bid him join our Mother land with his in order to stop a great threat: that of the Future, for there is a war between the past, the present and time to come."

"What has this to do with us?" asked the High Priestess, licking the blood from the woman's cheek.

"You believe that Wilhelm murdered your Great Princess."

"We have found this to be so."

"The truth, however, is that the future, knowing of a new technology incorporated into the boy, copied the design, and implemented it in one of their dishonorable curs. They then killed your Honoured Princess, and clearly stated Wilhelm had sent them. Know this, honoured council of Drow, there is one important difference."

"And what could this be?" snarled the Mother of Kilndar.

"The men wore heavy black cloaks, while Wilhelm wear only leather armor of an archer, a feat which he is most accomplished at, regardless of his arms attachment."

"You have been sent why?"

"To open negotiations for a peace-treaty."

"Why does not Wilhelm himself come?"

"He intends to when his battle with a group of Dwarves is finished. These dwarves took into their service multiple members of the Black-Cloaked, and are being used to forge weapons of great destruction and power intended to destroy the peace of all peoples."

"Very well. Will he come in honour?"
"He will come as unarmed as he may, accepting a station lesser than all males or slaves, for he has been learning of your culture from two advisors. Myself, for I represent a recent addition to his quest for a unified land, the Rhineland, and one of your people captured long ago by mine, but released into Wilhelm of Rathar's custody."

"Who is this dishonorable?"
"She is not dishonourable, for we only captured her during one of your rituals. The Blooding. We refused her askance for death, as it is not in our nature. Only men are allowed to die by our hands, unless we are provoked by women. It is our belief."
"Why did she not destroy herself, as all are wont to do, even commanded by Lloth, in event of capture?" Inquired the High Priestess.

"She almost had, when she found an attraction for one of our men: he succumbed to a Drow slave position, and made her a great many children. Seven in all. After he expended his limited life, we allowed her our most esteemed honour: she shared his meat with our Triumvirate, of which I am one. After such an honour, we gave her leave to wherever, and she stayed until Wilhelm came to us with an appeal for help. She advises him on your customs, and will lead him in."
"Who?" asked Shilbyn Tal, Matron of Auvrygyhm, and Head of the First House of Nobility, Leader of the Council of Matrons.

"She is called Drisffyn'yrr Laelnilee Alyraema'cice of the Houses of Alearn and Everhlyl."

All at once, the council exploded into pandemonium, after much argument and shouting, only two things could be heard. The High Priestess and the First Matron looked at each other and shouted.
"The Queen's First Duaghter!"

"Mother!" the Mage shouted. All eyes turned on the three key figures of the city.

Poem: Filler 2

2004-09-11T23:03:00.000-07:00

I attended the Funk Brothers perfomance at the Brit Festival, and therefore could not finish the story in time for this week's segement, and so instead I give another poem to entertain and delight you. Withouth further ado:

---

My bed and girlfriend are of the same ambrosial scent

I believe it began on the Atlantic coast
In a fight over bread
Or some other monetary nonsense.
Soon the rocks of power and hate were thrown
That flew thrice over the world
To knock a horse and rider off the senses
And into some other kind of shades
Known to this world as simplicity and falsehood.
(Although we are most likely wrong.)
I caught one jumping a hole to my hand
As it passed through my windows
And straight through my living quarters
Needless to say, I began to bleed from the perfect circle
Cut by the hardly gem.
The essence trickled down a scarlet trail
Like that of a Christ on his wedding day
Where he hung in his infinite marriage to God.
(The abusive old man.)

Chapter 4: The Future

2004-09-05T13:57:00.000-07:00

"The president! He's dead" screamed a medicine officer, as two top aides rushed to his side.
"What can we do?" asked one.
"We might try electroalysis, but it's risky."
"Might the future help us?"
"Not from what I've learned..." the doctor stated sadly, "Apparently, they can't even help themselves."
"What happened?" a General rushed back to his commanding officers side.
"The president died. We'll have to-"
The golden limosine pulled around again, the same angel shooting a plasma cannon from the sunroof. The ratharians ran back off in different directions, leaving the Presidents body. When he was sure that all the Ratharians had gone, the Angel stepped out of his vehicle again and gathered the body.

***
Around the corner, Johan and the well-dressed man waited, quietly discussing the fallen architechture, and many other points that seemed unimportant. The limo pulled up and they both hopped in.
"Greetings, sir." said the Angel.
"At Ease, Tel'aliv." the well dressed man returned. "Have you got the body?"
"Yes, of course."
"Very Good. We shall require your services again, no doubt, but for now...." he snapped his fingers and Johan opened the breifcase they had used to track the Ratharians. Inside, a few hundred dollars and ten bars of gold waited. The Angel reached for them anddissolved them into his being.
The driver of the Limo turned back to the gathered people and asked where they were to go.
"The factory." Johan said in a menacing tone. The driver obliged, and they rushed through the streets to the other end of town.

***
The doctor and General ended up together after their flight. The medicine man worked his magic, mending the commanding officers knee, which had been shot.
"It should come out clean, General Kraven."
"Very well, Mr. Olanus."
"Try not to do anything too stressful."
"Ha! We're thousands of years from home and you ask me not to do anything to stressful!" He began to survey the area intently.
"What are you looking for, General?"
"A place to shelter us. Aha!" the military officer opened a door into a small apartment building, and led the doctor up a few flights of stairs, all the while calling out to find someone. Not hearing anything, they stepped into one of the rooms, where a man waited for tem, a small plasma pistol in his hand.
"Hand sin the air!"
"What?"
"Hand sin the air!"
"O-kay." the doctor tapped General Kraven on the shoulder and demonstrated by placing his hands over his head. Kraven followed suit.
"What are you doing here! Who are you from?"
"Rathar." the General stated.
"Rathar's been gone centuries! Since the first Time War.
"The What?" the doctor blinked.

***
Meanwhile, the Limo pulled through a small door into a post-industrial factory. The Angel removed the body and headed off in one direction, while the other two men moved into a conference room, where a panel of Phantos, Angels, and Humans waited.
"Why did you call us here!" shrieked one purple-tinted Phantos.
"I suppose you have a divine reason?" An Angel remarked, questioningly.
"Yes, I do." the well-dressed man stated. "We have captured the Ratharian President. We are going to modify him so he wins the Time War."
"A study shows," Johan began, pointing to a graph near a dry erase board, "that if the Ratharian President had the Soul of an Angel, the Skill of a Phantos, and the mind of a human."
To this, the entire panel rose in appluase. Outside, the body of the President found a temporary home in a vat of bluish liquid, connected to many wires that ran every which way.

Chapter 3: The Past

2004-08-27T22:34:00.000-07:00

"When in the course of human events, the impossible and implausible happens, this can only cause a revise of the history that whatever creators of that part of the universe intended. For example, World War One as we know it in the alternate history of an Earth containing the tiny country of rathar, which is located somewhere in the midst of what used to be the European portion of the Communist Bloc. When the Gods or Goddesses of that particular plain decided that what they deemed 'good' should be triumphant in the end of all things, changes had to be made: not that anyone so changed could tell, always having been the way they thought they were after they were changed. Learned sages became magicians or mages- some clever barbarians became Kings. These things, of course, leaked into our world, as myth- legends of times past: or worlds present, depending." - Introduction to L'israel Prophesi by Isr'ly Talmuud.

***
From far above a craggy cliff, in the country of Tlak'Madran, a darkly silver sylph-like creature crouched, wincing in the pain of daylight. She shouted down a hole in the ground to her comrades, in her gutteral tone.
"L'elamshin d'lil Ilythiiri zhah ulu har'luth jal"
As she shouted this, a hundred arrows riddled her back, and she fell many agonizing kilometers to her death. The Drow's face twisted in thousands of ways, as if burned by the bright morning sunshine. As she fell, a few cloaked men, in dark robes, covered that enterance into the Drowic Nation. As she reached out for some branch, the offender looked over the side, pointing his mechanical arm down at her, shooting yet more arrows. "When you get to Hell, tell them Wilhelm the Rathful sent you." A sharp, bluish stream of light shot into the girl as she vowed "THALACK--- Rathar!"

***
"Что движение Ада на?" the Time Mage shouted at a few aides as he paced back and forth.
"Очевидно, мы напали на Drow город Tlacmal-очевидно молодого Wilhelm. Давайте убивать его." Snapped an officer wearing a smart suit and decorated in badges of all toungues.
"Дурак! Разве Вы не знаете, что это - Wilhelm Rathar Первое, основатель территории Rathar, который становится страной, которую Вы обслуживаете?"
"Я все еще говорю, только избавляются от него."
"Нет!"

Wilhelm, a young boy who hadn't much experience with languages at the time, looked up. "What the hell are you saying?"
"Nothing, me boy. But, apparently we've been set up."
"Oh?"
"Oh, you wouldn't understand." The doctor with a thin mustache motioned to Is'Rily and whispered soemthing to him. The magician returned, and smiled sweetlyu at the boy- the kind of smile that lets most people know something terrible is going to be asked of them.
"My boy, Зная истории все же, чтобы прибыть, быть очень полезным, нет? We want you to go to TlacMal an negotiate peace with TlacMal."
"Me?"
"Да- Yes."
"But I'm only a child."
"Only a child out for revenge."
"I don't see what this has to do with me- you havn't told me anything."
"Ah! The very people who destroyed your happy life have used improvements," the wisened figure motioned to the attached axe-crossbow appendage, "much like yours, to fake your persona. They have killed the Drowic leader, a Princess, a 高尚戰斗的公主 as the Chinese say, and forged your involvement."
"But...why me?"
"It is time to tell you what I should have earlier. You are to become the noblest ruler ever, the first Ratharian: you are to retake this land, in the name of the God Is'Rily."
"But, you're.."
"Remember." And with that, Is'Rily and a few of his aides dissapeared, as if by magic.
"What?" the boy turned quickly to the soldiers still accompanying him.
"We are her to serve you." they pledged to their soveriegn by clapping their left hand to their right arm and raising it in a stiff-handed salute. "Hail Rathar!"

***
In our universe, an Artist beyond compare to any other human being, an artist far beyond humanity, a demon as some would say, sneezed.

Chapter 3: The Future

2004-08-21T00:35:00.000-07:00

Johan walked away from the president with a little apprehension, the weight in his briefcase slowing him quite a bit. A bead of sweat trapsied down the creases of the business-suit clad mans face, dropping onto the dry ground and burning up. The weather sure had changed with the increased melting of the ice caps. He turned the corner, and shrieked away from the dome of the Space Needle, where it had crashed in the Pan-Pacific War so many decades ago. In the shadows, a thin man with Orson Welles size boots waited, smoking lustily from a long-stemmed cigarette held between two metal fingers of a prosthetic hand.
"You're late." said the man of the shadows.
"I was...Detained by the previous appointment."
"I see. And how did it go?"
"See for yourself." Johan pulled open his briefcase, and held it in front of the mysterious partner to reveal a petite monitor which he focused with a dial along the side. It zoomed in to the President's location, and the location of his comrades, lit up along a map of the surrounding area.
***
As the president and his followers began to disband into New Seattle, an off-white limousine coated with gold sparkles pulled up. An Angel stepped out, an automatic photon cannon impressed into his shoulder. He looked around, then fired a quick warning shot.
"All right you Ratharian Bastards. Down on the ground."
"Shit! Hit the deck!" Yelled the President, slamming against the ground in such force that his hands began to bleed.
"We know why you are here, and we are here to stop it." The Angel continued, "By stopping the source."
***
It would be a good morning for a stroll. Or so Joshua Nazarene thought as he stepped out onto the street in his simple garmets of white and brown cloth. He tended to dote around the old sections of town- the ones that still protruded from the ground, at least. This day he decided to take a walk through the old city center, and began promptly at 0900 hours. (Just three hours before his temporary job as a contracted city carpenter began.) He walked passed a small gathering of a few people whispering to each other, including one that looked like the famed President of Rathar from the first Time War. He paid little attention as he whistled old hymns from before the fall of religion to the Angels. Later, on his way home, he spotted a man from earlier with a figure shrouded in the darkness of the alleys and ruins. He thought of approaching, but decided against it and went on his way back to his house nearby.
***
The Angel looked straight into the eyes of the president and a strange aura surround them both. The colour disappeared out of the leader's eyes entirely. In what seemed like a thousand flashes of one second, the Angel fired the cannons and beams of white light enveloped the President, who fell limp to the ground. The others scattered quickly away, and the Angel slumped back into the limousine and whisked itself away. The Ratharian looked up with his pupilless eyes and screamed one terrible scream of bloody murder, then stopped breathing.

Chapter 2: The Past

2004-08-14T01:35:00.000-07:00

Wilhem surveyed the wreckage of his former homestead. He could smell all the sulfur and stains of death and violence. His entire family perished in the attack, and he lost an arm. He looked down at the leaking limb, and cringed with the pain that ran throughout his entire body. He dragged himself away from the awful site.
"Bastards! I will revenge myself on them."
"Then we have a -mutual- enemy." the Time Mage and a group of Ratharian soldiers stepped from the shadows. "I can train you in what you need to defeat those men- perhaps give you a most powerful advantage."
"Who are you?" growled the suspicious pre-teen, anger and distrust burning through his eyes as if they were a portal to that very damnable pit.
"No need for harsh words, I am Is'Rily, a powerful Magi."
"And who are these? Minions?" growled the boy.
"Soldiers from a time in need of your help, Wilhelm Of Rathar the First."
"Am I? Then perhaps I may accompany you.

***
The Military Surgeon motioned the boy forwards, placing his hands on the child's shoulder in order to prevent any unnecessary movement. He clapped an awkward looking band just before the boy's now wrapped stub of a limb. The band, a metallic and silver device, glowed red and green, emitting several beeps and blinks, before finally emitting a high-pitch scream-like sound.

"Sit still, an' this won't hurt a bit." the doctor said in the coy, unfeeling, sterilized way that many medical personalities develop during their years on the job.
"Ouch." cried the boy, as the surgeon fitted a specialized metal arm into the socket. "What does it do?"
"Ah! I am glad you asked," said another soldier, who wore a long mustache, as he stepped foreword, "This device, which I have designed, Has an Axe, which is retractable at your mental signal. It also includes a beautiful auto-firing crossbow...With explosive bolts." The mustached military-man turned proudly.
"Ah. But what does it do?"
"Come, I'll show you." the Time Mage motioned for the boy.

***

A small elf cleaned the bar at the Cello Broke Inn. His long beard dropped just barely to the floor, in accordance with his Tribal rules. He glance suspiciously about the place, eyeing the hooded gang in the corner. The seemed to be angelic creatures, perhaps of an outer plane. They periodically talked into little silver plates on their wrists. That must be worth something, thought the Elfin owner.
Suddenly, a small boy broke into the in with a hatchet embedded in a metal arm. He pointed his arm at the biggest of the Hooded figures, screaming obscenities at the man. The elf normally would have yelled that his bar did not allow fighting, but it seemed like it would be mostly ignored this time. Sagely, he ducked under the counter, and began rummaging for self-defense.
The lead Angel-figure had been shot multiple times with bolts that seemed to explode on impact. The boy rushed off as suddenly as he had come, screaming vengeance and adrenaline. Blood flowed down to the floor: a small, greenish blood that burned like a vat of acid through the floor. The elf got up to view the end of the scene, and started towards the hooded figures, but before he could truly move, they had disappeared completely.
"Damn war."

Chapter 2: The Future

2004-08-03T15:36:00.003-07:00

Johan took the subway, crammed in with many other humans, a few Phantos, and a smartly dressed angel handing out pamphlets about the salvation of all kinds. A few people took the pamphlets, but most people regarded them as the equivalent of brainwashing. 'Train Leaving Station' the automated voice stated coldly, as the vehicle sped at lightning speeds through an underground tunnel. Over the speaker came music designed to irritate all riders of the tramway with it's smurf-like melody.

***

"Here we are, men. Seattle. The Future." stated the President in a firm voice. He gathered them into a loose group by a statue of William Gates the Third. The hustle and bustle of a working city permeated the air of the little park. Bag ladies pushed carts along the street, and business men talked on their ear-comm's. Making deals with each other and trying to outwit one another. Cars from the nineteen twenties up to hovering cars and bikes lined the streets. The hover cars had it better, however, as they could simply fly above one another, though it must be hell on airports. Starports, the President reminded himself, Airports have given way to Transport Portals.

The odd group lined up turned to watch for their agent. Many Phantos, along with normal Humans, and the sharp-eyed Angels passed by without notice. Suddenly, a scrawny man with thick oval frame glasses of twentieth century design nodded his head and stopped in front of them.

"Mr. President."
"Johan Argus?"
"Yes. It is my pleasure to meet you- your accomplishments in the realm of..."
"Don't tell me, I shouldn't no about what I might do."
"But-"
"That's an order, Johan. Show us to a more private place." Ordered the suited Commander-in-chief. Johan quickly shuffled the soldiers and dignitaries from his time's past into an alley. A cat mewed in unhappy homelessness, while a short woman in black sewed quietly, ever listening in.

"Johan. Have you got the supplies?" asked the President.

"Yes, but I couldn't bring them here. I'll have them dropped by the Old Space Needle ruins for your pickup. I did bring the Comms."

"Excellent. As you know, I have forwarded the credit to your accounts."
"Here they are." the man from the time-period opened his briefcase, and displayed five small chips. Each chip sparkled brightly, though no sun sent light for it to do so. Instead, some internal power lit up the tiny machines as each of the people of the Rathar counsel grabbed one. "Just eat them, and they work their way to the right place."

"Alright. You may go now."
"Yes sir. Mr. President.."

"Yes?"
It's been a pleasure to meet you." The smile seemed as fake as the man.

Chapter 1: The Past

2004-07-30T00:21:00.000-07:00

A loud thump came from across the barnyard, startling young Wilhelm and his brother Randos. The two young serfs ran to the supposed safety of their families homestead, the younger calling out for the father.
The two entered the hay-and-board house, into their mother's arms. With the typical worrisome look of one who has seen too many vile things, the bandana clad matron asked the boys what troubles them.
"Mama. Something is behind the barn."
"What could it be, Randos?"
"It sounded like a thousand evil knights jumping, mother."
"Stop that foolishness, Wilhelm!" The mother raised her voice in base reprimand, "Well Randos?"
"I think it's something magical."
"Come here, baby. Hush." The woman pressed the younger son firmly into her breast.

"What's this then?" Came a drunken slur from the back room of the little home, "What seems to be the trouble, Mera?"
"The young ones are acting up again. Bumps and such."
"Now listen here, you," A more than portly man with a thick beard pulled down into dual braids lumbered into the room, "If I have to here anymore of your nonsense, it's to the dogs with you. To the dogs."
"But, Daddy...."
"No. No more." The father turned to Wilhelm with a mean look in his eyes, the kind of look found in statues of conquerors and warriors. "And as for you, well you've got what's been comin' to you."
"Father, don't."
"Hold still, boy."
"Papa!" shrieked the young boy as his father began the beating. Just then, three men in dark hoods entered the hut, with torches ablaze. One, wearing purple clerical vestments knocks over the household's prize possesion, an ornate table fashioned from mahogany. In terror, the family huddles together, for sheer mental support. Another of the hooded figures smashed the families keg of ale throughout the house, dropping a match. Flames rose higher and higher as doom aproached the innocents within.
"It's the Future that you hate. It's their fault when they get here. We know this will be their base," cried out the preistly ambassador of ill intent towards the place, "Rathar must fall."

Poem: Filler

2004-07-13T23:22:00.000-07:00

Will be in NY w/o Computer so here's a filler poem.

How high have we flown
Like we never flew before
How many times
Have I stared out this door
Watching in wonder
As space drifts me by
(By the by)

What lovers embraced
In the beginnings old dream
Foolish romantic
Slip the star stream
Arsenic and asteroids
We grow here to die
(Just to die)

I’m coming up with nothing
Got a million miles to go
Slapping down visions & Psion’s
The spirits are running low.

Then the white tiger of demons
Crosses to meet the union now
The jest is over in a few seconds
Hotfoot on the bow.
Who do you think you are
The girl slips in a sigh
(We’re on heaven’s side)

I’m coming up with nothing etc.

Heard of it in a holographic-sim
Some past old time
A prince or a doctor or someone called Jim
All they care is the crime
Where are we going
And when are we going to die
(Just want to die)

Coming out from a cryptic degree
What vision is this
Look hard and you might see
Those that made the list
And who’s right is it
To tell you when to cry?
(You’ll be living nigh.)

Chapter 1: The Future

2004-07-07T14:26:00.000-07:00

Johan Argus
Mailbox
W-Comm communication:

[Official Office of Homesteaders, Seattle.
Mr. Doris Kinsle.

To

XxxxxX (encrypted location)
Johan Argus]

Subject: Ratharians
I am pleased to hear of your triumph in meeting our ambassadors from Rathar. As you know, they bring great business to myself and thorough me to my office. They plan, as the President of Rathar informed me on his last visit, to take an office downtown, near your supply center. I suggested you, as you have a necessity and a knack for business. The leader has set up a temporary channel, which I will relay to you if you request.
[Close Comm]

[XxxxxX (encrypted location)
Johan Argus

To

official Office of Homesteaders, Seattle
Mr. Doris Kinsle]

Subject: Re: Ratharians
Doris, my friend, these things are not to be talked of lightly. Meet me at the open cafe at noon on July Twelfth. There we will discuss matters of state. For now, it would please me to know the locale of the leader on the W-Comm channels. Or better, have him message me for information on the basics- Prices, etc.
[Close Comm[

[XxxxxX (encrypted location)
XxXxXx (coded username)

To

XxxxxX (encrypted location)
Johan Argus]

Subject: Equipment
Mister Argus, Doris has told me of your request, and I feel that it is necessary to reply in total truth. You know who I am, and so we need not dispense with that. I doubt that these nets are truly safe from hacking, a sort of "mind-hacker" as one might term it, and many probably make their means in the employ of the World Government. Attached is the list of equipment we request from you. Send back the prices. Thanks.
[Opening Attachment: Clear]
Needed Supplies
2 Plasma Cannons
5 Suits of "Imperial" deflector armor
1 Laser Sniper Rifle
1 case grenades, cluster
5 handguns
5 local comm inserts
[Close Comm]

[Hijikalo;;-
Sasha

To

XxxxX (encrypted location)
Johan Argus]

Subject: Why didn't you call???
Is your Penis small? With the technologies of today, we can fix that little problem. Introducing EXPANDO, the revolutionary new male enhancement product. CLICK HERE (for free sample)
[End Comm]

[MailReturn
Mail Return

To

XxxxxX (encrypted location)
Johan Argus]

Subject: Failed message delivery notice
Notice of failed mail to
[Hijikalo;;-
Sasha]
Please verify address and try again- the following message was not sent:
"[XxxxxX (encrypted location)
Johan Argus

To

Hijikalo;;-
Sasha]

Subject: Re: Why didn't you call???
Now listen up you spam bot fuckers, if I find out how you got this address, who you are or why you are such assholes, I am going to use my mind probe virus submitters, even illegally, to track you down and fuck you up so bad you think your dick is meant to be stuck in a cement grinder. Got it, bitch-boys?
[End Comm]"
[End Comm]

[XxxxxX (encrypted location)
Johan Argus

To

XxxxxX (encrypted location)
Boss Giniota]

Subject: Re: Pyramid Scheme
As you have it all worked out, all right, I will most certainly lead the forces. Provided the terms I set are met, as I know they shall be. I have formed a band and purchased a car for the journey, as well as supplies. We begin at daybreak, at the ex-city center, just as you said. The ruins of the Ancient Space Needle will make an excellent stage, well lit, for perfect shooting.
-Argus
[End Comm]

Prologue: The Present

2004-07-02T00:00:00.000-07:00

In a deep cavern, racked with cliche bones and horrible torn apart carcasses, the modern day government of the nation of Rathar meets. Assembled at the table are the most important luminaries of the nation- authors, artists, government figures. As they settle down into quiet banter amongst themselves, a cart is wheeled in. From the cart a projector whirs as a small hunched over figure steps into the room with an echo.

"Sir," a suit-clad figure says as those in the room rise, "What have we been called for?"
"That, my friend, will be obvious in a second. Please be seated. As you all well know, we are at war with two fronts. This is potentially a damaging situation. This war comes from the recent advent of a Time Machine (To put it simply).
"This began when a team of Political, Artistic, and Scientific persons were chosen to venture to the future. What they found there did not bode well for Rathar. Three races," The projector beams the image of three very different people- one with great glowing eyes and very close to the humans of today, a normal human without the glowing eyes, and a winged angel-faced being.
"Three races competing for control of the entire world. The first are the Phantos, a race of people with powers not unlike those ascribed to traditional evil beings in most mythologies. The second are normal humans, such as ourselves. The third are the Angels, who preach light and goodness while waging a constant war against the Phantos and Humans, as they constantly attempt to use their superior technology to convert all people to their religion.
"Our agents returned and briefed us on the dilemma. Action began at once as covert teams infiltrated the future to find out a schism of the human race in the past caused this. The schism came from the assimilation of pagans into the commonwealth of the Catholic church during the middle ages. We also found that Elves and Dwarves, as well as many other supposed fantasy Races existed during this time. It turns out that they have gone into hiding, cooperating with each other. Even mating with each other. This, of course, eventually leads to the Phantos.
"A problem arose in our aide, however, when our investigators discovered that the Phantos and the future Humans are at war with each other for basic fear differences. Asia Major and Minor have taken in the races as a homeland, and are crossbreeding into the lines. In the present, we have attempted to contact the Phantos, but they remain secreted away until the time is right for them to return.
"In the future, we are the perpetrators of Genocide. We constantly raid Phantos villages and wage war against them openly. Sometimes with help from the Angels, if we have allied with them for the moment.
"We consulted the past eras for help, but in the past we waged a constant war against many peoples (Including ourselves) and committed many terrible genocidal crimes. Regardless of our intentions, most of the humans of the past have declared war against us. Our only allies come in the form of the Magi, of which there are only four. They are spread out across the world and do not have the resources needed to take militant actions other than defending their towers.
"Of these Magi, our most helpful is Is'rily, a Time Mage. He resides in what is now India, in the past. He is also here with us today, thanks to his time magic." With that, the man rises and points over to a wizened figure dressed in deep crimson robes.

"Thank you, Mr. President," the mage began, "and thank you, members of the consul. As you know, your war is waged in the past and the future. Unfortunately, the future races have learned of this and plan to bring the conflict to your front. That is to say, they have begun the invasion." An explosion in the corridor punctuates the point. A high ranking General lunges for an intercom, and demands an explanation. A crackle comes over the speaker, as those in the room brace themselves.

"This is Commandre Roadlor Lia of the American-Rathar region. We have brought the war back to the originators. Prepare for extermination."
"Sir, what does all this mean?" Calls the man who greeted the President.
"Isn't it obvious? We must flee to the past and to the future to prevent this event from happening."

With that the President and the Is'rily stride over to a door embedded in the ground. They open it and hop in. They motion for the others to follow. After everyone descends, the door is closed, and everything remains still for a few seconds. The entrance to the consul room creaks and jingles as some force attempts to break through. The door in the ground glows, then disappears entirely. The door opens and a tall, dark skinned female with well toned muscles bursts into the room. She surveys the scene and sits down, setting a charged plasma cannon at rest on the table. She tilts her head back, and pushes a button concealed in her uniform.

She waits for a moment, then nods "The past...Has fallen."