- last post: 01.01.0001 12:00 AM PDT
Chapter 1: Apathy
In an old, crumbling, abandoned building, a creature walks slowly. Appearing to go nowhere, it turns a corner. With the quiet, lonely sound of shuffling feet in the background, a sound plays. The old being walks into a room. A small box, cracked and scarred, plays music. The owner of the shuffling feet approaches it, it's curiosity piqued. It reaches a rotted, cold hand out and picks it up. A blood-shot eye stares at it quizzically, a hand occasionally stroking it, as if it's seen the old box before.
It's eye squints, as if in rememberance. It reaches out once again, but in mid-reach, it stops cold. A voice in it's head tells the creature to move, and it obeys. Turning quickly, it drops the small black box onto the ground. As the creature sprints away, the box coninues to play. It's music fades away from the monster's hearing, just like the memory, and the civilization that made it, did from it's mind and this planet...
The creature runs onward, this time accompanied by many similar abomonations. The voice, gravelly and yet soft, tells it to move onward, and to not be stopped. As they run on, more and more join them. Soon there are hundreds. The group finally reaches a crest in a hill, and all of them look down. They, and the Voice, see a camp with many creatures milling about, appearing to be stock-piling for some event. The voice tells the minions of it's will to attack, and consume every being down in that valley, and so they move.
One of the aliens in the camp spots the oncoming horde, and shouts to it's companions.
The humanoid aliens, tall and built, mobilize to meet the rushing creatures. They shoot with their advanced beam-based guns, taking down many, but the horde's numbers barely seem to dwindle. The hive finally crashes into the poor survivors, killing and infecting them as they do simply what their collecvtive mind tells them to do. One alien, with an energy-charged staff, stands in the middle. It swings, taking 2 undead corpses down in a fiery inferno. He jumps high, kicking another into the throng of rotted cadavers, and throws his staff into the chest of another. Then, 4 jump on him, taking him down in a carnage-fueled frenzy, his wailing cries of horror and pain washing over the battlefield. Not even the strongest can survive this Flood of undeath. After a very short time, the stench of death and decay washes over the once-calm encampment.
Like a Flood, the monstrosities washed over their victims, claiming everything in their path. The one creature from the building sees a body laying on the cold damp ground, and goes over to inspect it. The monster cries out in anguish. Something is familiar about this corpse. It looks up at the surrounding hills and sees a lone shape, silhouetted by the twin suns. The shape turns quickly, a cloak catching in the wind. The creature is torn to shout out in alarm, or have mercy on this being. This familiar being.. The creature then turns away, decided, and stalks away. It becomes preoccupied with it's simple task: to consume. Like all of it's brethren, it is bound. No longer free, the monster runs off to it's tasks like a slave. The daylight wanes; the night's shadows cover the sky, just like a flood, covering everything like a strangling blanket..
The cloaked figure runs through the night, terrified. The Flood had decimated his home, his family. Caal'aru whimpers, thinking of how he'd run away from his people's last stand. Like a coward. What would his father think? What did that matter, though? His father had been infected by those..those things! . As had all of them! He runs on into the night, determined to find salvation from this nightmare. A scream fills the night, behind him, and he runs faster. On the distant horizon, a light shines.