Skip to main content

Testimony of Dastarioa, a worldbuilding project

The singing clouded my ears and I lost my sense of hearing the moment she rang the first bell. By the time the second bell sounded, I was on the floor bleeding from my ears. Everything around me was about to collapse. The world around me blurred little by little, and I felt as if this was my ultimate adieu. The third bell rang and I still lied stiff to the side. Another body fell in front of me. Could have smashed me to my end, but there seemed no rush. Everything slowed down. I no longer noticed the fourth bell sound. My entire senses caved in. But I knew all was lost.

Basangra has once again awakened.

The mages who earlier formed a huge turtle formation to counter our moorguards finally dissipated once the might of Basangra went into full throttle. No one was spared, not even those fools that summoned him from the portal whence he came from. The rest of the moorguards remained, fending the gargantuan beast all by themselves to no avail. It was a futile massacre. We were largely outmatched, and the mages took one home, eager to pursue the victory that they had been chasing for a long time.

  • excerpt written by Dastarioa, the only surviving moorguard during the Advent of Basangra, ca 00.8 (before crusades)

Popular posts from this blog

Snippet: In her darkest days, Elaine (worldbuilding), unfinished

Voices of strange busybodies could be heard on the other side of the edifice. Elaine reckoned she recognised one of them. An old friend. Perhaps not necessarily a friend, or not technically a friend. A friend is a rare commodity for her these days. She could walk right past them and not blink an eye, but Elaine waited for a little bit more until the lot toned down. Having a group of opposites around her, poking her skin through their eyes, meticulously making sure she was an enabler who to them an abundant source of entertainment, was all the reason needed to convince herself to back away from the complexity of it all. Home is an awful lot more awful than this place though, Elaine thought, as she gripped her handbag tightly, hoping the ray of darkness from the moon would envelope her and shield her from the attention of the lonesome trail.
"This would not have happened had you only listened to me, Elaine," complained Darco. "Half the people out there would skin us both…

Unprayer

Dark, darker, darkest, there is no difference. All hurts the same. Pain, everlasting, lingering. Pain, day and night. The hours are uncertain. Anything can happen now. Thinking about it hurts. Truth is unreliable. The romance is dead. My heart, it is lost. Unrecoverable, hateful, distrusting. Wishful, perhaps, but I have lost everything before and survived still. This one was special. So special. Embittered, the tip of my tongue tastes. The flavour of my life. Cuisine of kitchens unwanted. It burns, to the heart. I do not understand. I do not understand.

Me: Things that have happened to other people are happening in mine, the worst truly has come and not a moment too soon

My important wishes always happen to fall on deaf ears, and now something really, really bad (that has already happened before) is happening to me again. Beneath all the charade of misleading coulrotic bliss is a sad sap of a man merely wanting a bit of trust from everyone around him. Yesterday's news was Mioseon all over again, and it has drained me of all strength. The worst really has come, and heaven knows I'm miserable now.
So it goes without saying that the biggest tragedy I have ever undergone in my life is fighting for the life of my child whose face I will never see. The most perplexing event was having to beg over and over unknowingly oblivious to the fact that my words carry no weight at all. Mioseon had trapped me into a corner and made me complicit to a sin I tried very hard to disavow. Regardless, she had found a way, and judging from that experience, Miriam herself will submit me to the same torture all over again, guilty by association.
For some reason this wa…