Seeking the Dark Tower

On the path that eventually leads to the clearing in the woods, the Charyou Tree. Fraught with danger, fear and loss, and yet, fulfillment. Welcome.

Sunday, August 13, 2006


Uh huh. Exactly as is what it seems.

So did Lord Perth fall

you'd never expect so much blood to spill from such a small cut. And in such a short time, too.

So did Lord Perth fall, and the countryside did shake with thunder

Friday, August 04, 2006

there are other worlds than this

Remember, the man in black said, there are other worlds than this.

Roland looked at the warbling thinny, pockets of existence worn so thin they had practically broke down the core fabric that was time and space. To look at the thinny directly, as some of the old folks said, would draw out your soul into its maw, so that the next person foolish enough to gaze upon it might see you within its squirming shimmer. Even glancing at it from the side had made his eyes water. And then there was that high pitched warble that went straight through his head like a nail.

He looked around for the final time. All his history, all that he was borne with, all that he had made, lay here and there in disorganised clumps. Here was a rock he had collected along the shores of the mythical river yamuna, there was a lock of hair given by someone so fair halfway across the world. And beyond was the carving he had made, half done, its half formed face staring its accusing stare - you made me, but never finished me. Finish me off! End me now! He turned away to look at something else less disturbing. There, there was his red guitarro, rosy as ever, and he had remembered the good times he had with it, and all the times it had helped him while away the moments in the wasteland, before it was broken and left behind in the sand dunes, its silent cries ignored. All his memories and worldly belongings. They had all tumbled out of his gunna, his pockets and belongings, as if a wraith had rummaged through his life and strewn all his memories in their physicalities across the wasteland.

Soon, even all this history might be so much worthless crap left to set in stone, left forever in
this wasteland, the drawers, forever gazing its blind idiot eyes into the barren sky as the sun made its way across it every cycle, each day playing its rays a silent devastation across the land. Maybe in the future (or past, time had a way of fucking around forward and backward in this world), he, or some other hapless traveller would come to this place. If it was someone else, he wondered if that person (or thing...) would have the same blank, deep emotionless darkness he felt now.

This is it then, Roland thought. Endworld starts here. The endtimes are coming, so the gannalach said. "The lands dry, the seas parch, and there will come the time when all will be set in stone. The world is moving on, and events are set into motion that which cannot be reversed; discordia will consume"

Roland took a step towards the thinny. It drew to him, and repulsed him at the same time. I go to a new place, then. Leave you all behind. The wastelands. The deserts. the waystation. Mia, in all her beauty and all her previous incarnations. The inner baronies whence I came from, when all was still misty and beautiful, at the dawn of time. And yet, you only step through to another wasteland, isnt it? The man in black's bitchy titter. This world is dead.

Elsewhere, a person (as it thought itself to be, but not in the homo sapiens kind of way; in the loligo kind of way, h'targn was its name), found himself in a huge dusty hall that seemed to have kept time frozen throughout all the ages of the millenia. He drew towards that shimmering portal that was tennhauser gate. It took what a gasp would be for Roland, and drew to its full height. I come, it thought. From this undying stagnation elysium, I come. As both h'targn and the oracleas the key, I come! For c'thon, for tethys, for all my beloved loliganth, for the fufillment of the gannalach, I COME! you will open to ME! Arran! Open your eyes! I now leave Sheol!

Elsewhere, in the void that filled the space between stars, the entire fleet was amassed and prepped for the jump. The last few scout escorts and repair corvettes docked into the mothership, and the rest of the frigates and capital ships reached their final alignments. One final broadcast as fleet command echoed through the radios of all the ships, cutting all chatter.
We are here. Coordinates for tennhauser gate are now set. The Eye of Arran is activated. Mothership drives are fully charged. All ships prepare for the exodus. We leave K'harak for the last time.

Roland sighed and stepped into the warbling thinny.
Tyler darkled and tincted, tittering gleefully as Roland dissapeard from this wasteland.
Ralph tossed about in his bedroll, dropping even deeper into the dream that was all about darkness.
H'targn, eyes ablaze, strode into the shimmering wall of water that was tennhauser gate.
Hyperspace windows opened in front of each ship, and drew the entire fleet into the Eye of Arran.
The wordslinger put down his pen, and reached for a new book.
And all that was left to rest, was set in stone.

Elsewhere, a world is being born.