Rising Up From the Darkness

Bursting out of the viscous black liquid that lies at the utter depths of the rendering pits you draw yourself together folding in your gills and maggot tubes within your carapace. The ichor flows freely now and out of the primal chaos utters thought to your circumstance. You are reborn to wreck bloody vengeance on the overlords of the radiant spires that rise above the churn of the harvest lands where once you dissolved and ran down the drains into the utter nonbeing of the chaos pits which float beneath the firmament. No longer a being of light, but a leviathan whose veins course with unformed thoughts as thick and black as tar. The world that rises far above you is light and structure and clarity but it stands on a foundation of filth and corruption thousands of miles deep. To take your vengeance and regain your name you will have to crawl though the degenerate muck and catacombs of blackened bone which house the forlorn and desolate yet, you feel quite certain that in all your trials you will face no foe more terrible than yourself.



In the fourth epoch of the Astrolabe of the Grand Pattern, a discordant tremble emerged to the great concern of the Conclave of the Rites. By some it is whispered that rebellion, impossible and unimagined followed but others whisper that the rebellion was struck down before it could take root and untold millions were dissolved, rendered down to their base ideological structures and drained down into the chaos of unformed imagination on which the great work floats, that those who execute the purge were in turn purged by ever smaller circles until the last self disincorporated leaving only rumour and a slight wobble along the axis of the Astrolabe. But if all life rose out of the chaos pits, as it is chiseled on the backs of the Children of the Living Book of the Law then what darker thought might rise again out of those depths which once knew and loved the light?



This is the tale of the fallen as they claw their way up from the forgotten depths. This is the mystery of the unknown sin. The consequences of the abomination of the great rebellion or the abomination of the great lie are about to break forth. Agents of the Conclave guard the upper depths bringing light where none has shone before but the tale begins in the squalid passages of the lower darkness where creeping things gnaw at the foundation of all things and unknown fluids drip and pour down and ever down into the primal chaos. In the darkness grows a greater darkness and some whisper that at the final day that darkness will be known for the truth and the tower will fall and the light will fail and chaos will swallow up the very memory of a beautiful and ordered world for be they rebels or innocent victims the in all the world, only the reborn are truly free.

Rising Up From the Darkness