Mortus Corps 5

It has been often said that space is the final frontier.  Well friend, truer words have never been spoken.  No matter how far we travel, no matter how much we claim for ourselves, there is always more out there.  It is something that most folk talk for granted, but if you stop and actually think about the virtual empire that we have carved out for ourselves, and then compare that to what is left, it is enough to really make a person feel insignificant.

It can’t be said that all of our ventures out here have been successful, far from it actually.  I would wager more people have been lost out here in the vast-nothing than anyone could ever count.  This is especially true for those earliest travelers from the Home-Worlds.  I can’t imagine the guts it took to be on those first colony ships to leave the Sol system.  Historians like to tell us that one out of every five settlers died in those days, but I would guess it was closer to three of five.

Why is all of this relevant you ask?  Well the simple truth is that you kids today have no sense of History.  And yes, I meant that with a capital ‘H’.  The thing that irks me most is that you act like everything you see on the ‘net is gospel.  Let me tell you something, I have been studying History for longer than any of you have been alive so you will listen to what I have to say even if you don’t like it.  Do you get me?

“Yes drill sergeant!”

Now when I bring up this subject most people just roll their eyes and think to themselves that I’m going to go off on another rant.  Don’t get me wrong, I can go on and on about the history of the Alliance, but damn it, this stuff is important!  If we can’t even remember where we came from how are we expected to increase what we have?  How can we expand our holdings if we can’t figure out what started it all in the first place?

Don’t worry, I am not going to go all the way back to literal beginning of our history as a people, but I am going to jump back to before the Alliance was formed, back to when there was still life on Earth.  In my years of studying this topic I have compiled thousands of hours of antique footage, and I am going to allow you maggots the opportunity to learn from them…and the first one I catch sleep is going to find them shipped out to the ass-end of the galaxy protecting nothing more than a garbage dispersal unit.  Are we clear?

“Yes drill sergeant!”

I wonder

Today has been one of those days.  I cannot seem to concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes.  I want to be creative, I want to work on one of, any of my projects but I can't seem to get anything out.  I would really like to be working on the topic that I submitted yesterday but for whatever reason it is my hardest project.

I have had the basic idea behind the Hellborn setting in my head since I was a Junior in High School and I just have never been able to get it out.  I wonder why that is?  I could blame lots of things but I won't.  It just seems to be something that, as much as I want it, I may never finish.

So here I sit, not getting anything done.  I looked at my other projects and just shrug to myself, wondering when I will be inspired to work on them again.  Even with my drawing I am having a block.  It is very frustrating to be sure.

I hope this isn't the beginning of a creativity block.  I know its only been today, but thats always how they start...with one bad day...

Hellbound 1

Another day, another idea...

Ryson

I hate the rain, actually you could say I despise it.  For the life of me I can’t figure out why people romanticize it so much.  All it does is complicate things, I mean it cuts down on visibility, soaks clothing, and makes things hard to hold on to.  Basically it sucks.  I’ve been standing here in this piss-warm drizzle for hours waiting for my mark to get home, and something tells me I will be stuck out here even longer.  And why is it that they always seem to hole-up in these nasty little pay-by-the-hour hotels?  I mean for Pete’s sake, have a little self-respect and stay at a decent place where I can be comfortable for once.

What is the deal with me always being the one who end up waiting for God only knows how long?  I mean c’mon now, my last mark took three weeks to run down and this one is already on day eight.  From what I hear, Anders never has this problem, but that probably has to do with the fact that he has his nose so far up the Enclaves ass that he gets the very best intelligence they can provide.  As for me, I get stuck with all the shitty jobs, the ones that require the most work.

Fucking rain...

It takes another three hours of standing around in this damn rain, feeling it coursing down the back of my neck and into my coat, leaving me shivering and cold despite the fact that it’s almost ninety degrees out tonight.  Three hours of waiting doing nothing more than standing there in that alleyway stewing and getting angrier as the clock ticks by.

Finally a light goes on in my marks room.  If things stay true to form it won’t stay on very long.  I can feel my adrenals kicking in as I jog across the street into the flea-bag hotel and haul ass up the rickety stairs.  By the time I reach the landing outside my marks room my senses are singing and I can feel my heart pounding deep in my ears.  It’s always like this, the waiting followed by the rush.

It takes three strong kicks with my size-twelve boot to cave in the lock and force the door open.  Three kicks that seem to take forever to do, three kicks worth of eternity for my mark to get ready for me.  I can see the look of terror in my marks eyes as I stride into the room, my .45 in my left hand and a foot-long blade in my right.

It’s a picture you could see at any shitty hotel in any city across the country really.  A half-naked hooker trying her best to cover her goodies while the John does his best to hike up his pants, sure that he’s about to be robbed.  It only takes me a second to take it all in, to see the sweat on his brow and the thick cake of makeup on her face.  It takes about the same amount of time to level my pistol at my mark and fire off two quick shots.

The whores face and head explode in a mess of grey-matter and bits of skull as my bullets slam into her arched brow.  Without as much as a whimper she drops to the floor into a blood-drenched mass.  I glance over my left shoulder to the terrified John, still midway into pulling up his now piss soaked slacks.  In broken Russian I say “Get the Hell out!” before I turn back to the body.

I hear him rush out of the room behind me as I move toward the corpse.  I have seen this trick too many times.  I holster my .45 as I secure my grip on my short-sword.  They always play dead you see.  I guess they mutually figure that if they just lay there I will leave.  Fuck that!  No way am I letting this thing get away on my watch.

This one is smarter than most though.  As I lean over to cut out its wormy black heart it leaps to its feet, its hands gripping my throat in a death-grip, attempting to tear out my throat.  I slam my consecrated blade deep under its ribcage aiming for the core of its being, targeting its heart.  I know that the only way I can stop it is to pop it like some sort of pus filled baseball.

It takes four flurried stabs before I manage to hit my target.  In that time the bitch nearly rips out my trachea.  I fall back onto my haunches as the…thing writhes around on the floor, its smashed skull and gouged chest spurting thick greenish black gore all over the walls, the floor, and me.  It only takes a bit shy of forever for it to stop thrashing around and finally become silent. 

One down…only God knows how many more to go.

Mortus Corps 4

The Space Race

Since the late 2050’s and the completion of the first privately operated space station there has been a sometimes vicious race to be the ‘Best in Orbit’.  All manner of station opened in a matter of decades, from cutting-edge research facilities to pleasure craft designed to cater to the rich and famous.  It seemed that nothing was out of reach for the people of Earth.

The idea that mankind was meant for the stars was only reinforced by the discovery of the first serviceable worm-hole between Mars and the asteroid belt.  After extensive study and a year of careful monitoring the first probe was sent through the worm-hole.  The probe was a total success and it was determined that the far end of the worm-hole was just beyond orbit of Neptune.  Once it was determined that the ‘hole was safe and stable it only took three years for the first station to be placed in orbit around Neptune.

When the Terminus Plague struck the Earth it was only a matter of time before it made its way onto a space station.  It was only due to the stringent and some would say paranoid safety protocols on the stations that prevented an epidemic in orbit.  As the plague ravaged the planet the people above watched and waited for things to return to normal.  It took the massive and world-spanning riots of 2079 before it became apparent that those in orbit must drastically limit ties with those planet-side.

The UOG and Mars Consortium

It was from the ashes of the chaos on Earth that the United Orbital Government or UOG was formed.  The UOG was created from the leadership of the seven largest orbital and lunar stations, and was designed to work in much the same manner as the United Nations.  The original plan was to allow each of the outposts to govern themselves as they saw fit and only receive guidance and nurturing by the UOG.  In theory this form of leadership should have worked out well enough, but as is generally the case with massive corporations and the remnants of Earth-bound nations, the reality wasn’t the same.

The main point of contention came from the people of Mars.  They felt that they were excluded from the UOG due to the back-water nature of their planet and the fact that their settlements were spread out so far across the planet.  Even after an emergency meeting of the newly formed UOG, and the offer to grant their largest settlement a seat on the Board, the residents of Mars refused, and declared themselves free of the UOG.  Dubbing themselves the Mars Consortium, the new government controls all of Mars, as well as many of the mining concerns in the asteroid belt just beyond their planets orbit.

Although there is a quite state of tension between the two space nations, the Consortium and UOG seem to get along reasonably well, and do a fair job of controlling their chosen areas.  There has never been any type of open aggression between the two groups, but it is believed that several of the corporations that make them up are waging a silent war against one another for resources and bragging rights.

People of Espeth 2

Traxbon

There are few people anywhere across Espeth that are as cool and collected as the traxbon.  Although many would say this has to do with their reptilian heritage, it is in fact due to their instinctive attunement to the world around them.  They understand that all things pass and that over-reacting to something is often the first step in failure. 

Traxbon do not recognize individual families as the other species of Espeth do.  To a traxbon the first and most important allegiance is to the race as a whole and to the protecting of its already fragile society.  The loss of two of their most holy cities, along with the deaths of so many of their numbers at the hands of the Dragon King has created a ripple of fear to course through the hearts of this normally stoic people.

The traxbon have not sought to be a political or military power on the continent for many generations.  They are content to merely protect their lands and live lives of general seclusion away from the rest of the world.  This standard of staying to themselves served the traxbon well enough for the last several years, even in the face of the cyclopean advance.  However the destruction of two of their sacred sites, Ta’link and Mi’athua, at the hands of the Dragon Kings forces has led many traxbon to believe it is time to take up arms and go to war for the first time in centuries.

The traxbon are led by the sha’karmet.  The sha’karmet are the priests of the traxbon and among the only ones able to harness magical powers.  All traxbon children are tested at one month of age to see if they possess any form of magical talent.  Those that exhibit magical aptitude are taken from their families and begin training as a priest.  Of those that begin the training roughly three-quarters will fail to become fully fledged priests.  Of those that fail only half will prove worthy of becoming sha’keth, the warlords and champions of the traxbon, while the rest will go on to become servants for the priests and sha’keth.

The sha’keth are among those traxbon who are able to use magical spells but not to the great extent of the high priests.  Sha’keth are trained to combine their magical abilities with martial skills to become masters of warfare and the protectors of the traxbon as a people.  Sha’keth are taught to be totally fearless and to protect the traxbon society with every breath. 

Unlike the other races of the region the traxbon do not have any form of standing army.  There are far too few traxbon for them to be able to front a force suitable for open field warfare.  To make up for the lack of a standing army all traxbon, male and female, are trained in the arts of self-defense and are expected to act in the defense of their home.

“The average traxbon male has a body length of up to eight feet, with females being only a bit smaller.  They possess a humanoid upper body but from their waist down are entirely serpentine in nature.  There are a variety of different coloration patterns found among the traxbon, but the most common are those similar to the natural varieties of snake and reptile found in close proximity to their enclaves.

Traxbon arms are long and quite strong, ending in a wide hand made up of two fingers and a thumb.  Traxbon do not possess any sort of hair but pride themselves on the luster and upkeep of their scales.  Most prefer to wear loose fitting shawls and coverlets made of light materials in bright colors, particularly shades of blue and yellow.  The priests of the traxbon wear loose robes cinched at the waist by wide cloth wraps.  The priest’s robes are decorated in vibrant depictions of the traxbon deities or great moments in traxbon history.”

-From a Poets Observations by Whilmet Darhs

People of Espeth 1

Anyone who knows me knows that I cannot stay on one topic entirely.  So here is the first of the races for a fantasy based project I am working on...

Gnome

“I wonder what this button does…”

If elves are the epitome of patience and perseverance, and goblins personify acting on a whim, then gnomes are the perfect example of distracted minds working at long-term tasks.  It isn’t that gnomes are careless, it has more to do with the fact that their minds are constantly coming up with new ideas that they would rather work on.  Every day an average gnome will have upwards of ten projects that they are working on all at once, meaning that it is rare if any of them actually get finished.  Those endeavors that do reach their end though, are expertly made and among some of the finest items to be found anywhere.

Although gnomes could be found just about anywhere, they are most comfortable in large cities where their experiments and creations can be easily sold or occasionally in the wild near their much needed raw materials.  With the return of the dragons many gnomes have struck out in an attempt to discover their ancient lairs.  They hope that by finding their hidden homes the gnomes may determine a way to stop them.

Gnome tinkerers and craftsmen are always in high demand among the courts of Espeth, and many compare their work to that of the ancient dwarves.  Most gnomes understand that this is meant to be a compliment, but some still take offense due to the corrupt and twisted nature of most dwarven works.  The thing to keep in mind with gnomes is that they are notorious for getting distracted even in the heat of an argument or gods-help-you, combat.  Some even go so far as to call gnomes hedonistic, but it is just their insatiable curiosity taking them to new places that the average person might call taboo.

“Although the tallest gnome stands only a few inches above four feet tall, they generally possess an ego and perception that belies their short stature.  Gnomes have large noses and slightly pointed ears.  They grow their hair long and the men sport expertly trimmed beards and unless they are working or on the road gnomes wear the most showy and flashy fashions they can afford.

The gnomes are a proud people who favor intellect and resourcefulness in others beyond all else.  Most gnomes avoid conflict whenever possible, preferring to tackle an opponent with their wits rather than their brawn, such as it is.

Gnomes are expert tinkers and are many are known to also be magically attuned.  The majority of this people are happy to concentrate on the mechanical side of things, but there are those that dabble in alchemy and a few that are full-on sorcerers.  It is almost unheard of for a gnome to follow the spiritual path, as they tend to take a hard, scientific view on everything around them.”

-From “Gnome Etiquette and Psychology”

Mortus Corps 3

Note from the writer: Even as I am using this blog as a place to post bits and pieces of my new setting I am changing it.  It has already gone through one major change and maybe another if I can work it out.  Who knows when this will be finished but it will be eventually....

Too Little Too Late

As the time for the release of the plagues inhibitor closes riots and looting become more commonplace.  There are far too many people crammed into the downtown areas of the chosen cities to be easily controlled.  The remnants of the National Guard as well as several Army units are called in to help quell the riots and prevent any more collateral damage, both in the way of material as well as lives but unfortunately the military, in its already weakened state, is unable to act cohesively enough to have any sort of impact.

In an effort to stop even more people from flooding into the area hastily erected walls went up around the proposed safe-zones.  It is then decided that the military would be used to remove anyone that could not prove they belonged in the chosen cities out of the area.  Sadly these efforts ended in violence in many of the release sites as people fought for the right to stay.  After nearly a month of civil in-fighting the five American safe-zones were declared ready.

In each of the cities, Los Angeles, Dallas, Chicago, Detroit, and New York City, thousands of dispersal units were installed and prepped for use.  The plan was to use these high-tech sprayers to disperse the neutralizer into the air over the cities, thereby creating an area of relative safety from the airborne effects of the plague.  Massive walls around each of the chosen cities towered over the crowds as the dispersal units came on line on June, 21, 2078.

Amazingly the units worked although they were still less effective than the greatly weakened government would have liked.  It is believed that the neutralizers, currently only able to work at 45% capacity, allowed for the protection of roughly twenty thousand people per safe-zone.  Anything beyond this number somehow interfered with the delicate conditions that needed to be maintained for the units to operate at all.  For those that remained in the safe-zones things were bleak, but livable even if they were constantly subjected to the steady drizzle of chemicals and medicines that held the plague at bay.

Relations between those behind the walls, and those trapped outside were extremely terse and it only took three months before there were hostilities at the Los Angeles safe-zone as hundreds of plague victims crashed the walls, attempting to get to what they believed was true safety.  These clashes became more common across the nation and are still a common feature on the few remaining news broadcasts.

Outside the walls the plague continues to claim thousands of lives each year, but mankind has learned to adapt.  Whereas before outbreak of the Terminus Plague people gathered in their millions and hundreds of thousands, the survivors have learned that by remaining isolated and relying on their own means they could survive.  Today there are countless villages and settlements across the country and world and only a handful of large scale gatherings outside of the safe-zones. 

In some parts of what was once the United States someone can travel for days at a time without encountering another person.  Strangers are almost never welcome at a settlement and it is common for villages to resort to violence on one another in order to obtain supplies and goods they need.  Things have devolved to a more basic, and some would say primitive way of living. 

Mortus Corps 2

What if... Thats how much of this started.  What if the secret to saving humanity from the perils of disease and birth-defects could be cured by unraveling the DNA strand.  This really wasn't a new idea, scientists had been working for decades on doing just such a thing.  The difference is that in the late 2010's the medical community no longer sought to decipher the code, but to actually change it on the fundemental level.

It would take another three decades before there was any sort of tangible success, but in the 050's scientists discovered that by literally shifting nodes in the subjects DNA chain it was possible to bestow super-human abilities.  The orginal design of the experiment, now known as the Omega Process, was to cure any number of terminal diseases.  The creation of extraordinary powers was an unforseen, but amazing side effect. 

Subjects who went through the process were healed of any sort of disease or malady that they were stricken by, and also gained fantastic abilities.  Needless to say it was heralded as an amazing success at first. 

Unfortunately it was soon determined that the procedure had a major, and fatal, side-effect.  Those who went through the process had their life span dramatically decreased, some by years, others by as much as a decade.  To make matters worse, the more an individual used their new super-human abilities the faster their bodies succumbed.  There were even reports of those who died within weeks of their awakening. 

 
In the beginning there were only a scant number of individuals who would volunteer to be part of the Omega Process; after all knowing that you were willingly signing away your life was not an easy thing for most people to embrace.  Just subjecting oneself to the process could mean a sudden and painful death as nearly fifteen percent of the subjects died within days of the treatment.

Then came the first attacks by the alien menace known only as the Collective...

Mortus Corps 1

You WILL die.

It is only a matter of time.  It may be from disease, or old age, or at the hands of the Collective, but the fact of the matter is you will die.

Why not take that fact and use it in your favor?

Join the Mortus Corps and take the fight to the alien scum that would destroy us all!

 

Amazing powers, unbelievable benefits, citizenship for your family, and instant fame can all be yours!

 

Stop by your local recruiting station today!

~All too common recruiting add for the Mortus Corps circa 2115

A New Beginning

After having serious problems with my old blog, I have decided to start a new one here instead...

Recently I had the opportunity to help a friend with one of his projects.  This turned out to be a cathartic exorcise for myself as I was able to come up with a few new conclusions about my own projects.  I have spent the last several years working on different writing projects with only a limited amount of success.  It isnt that the work isn't good, rather it is from a lack of commitment from myself and my constant problems with staying focused on anything for more than a short time.

I am a good writer, I know that much.  Hell sometimes I am even a good artist.  I can think of a few people who will tell you the same thing.  This isn't me trying to be egotistical, rather it is a reaffirmation to myself that my work is of worth.  I forget that sometimes...

There is a line in a Shinedown song that goes.  ...Am I sick or am I gifted?  I think for me this is appropriate since both fit.  Of course depending on the day one will hold more weight than the other.  I cant say that this new creative me will only work on one thing...or even 12...but I am going to do my damndest to finish things.  Technically I have two small 'books' for someone elses RPG system done that just need artwork so I know I can finish those soon....I hope.

The project that my friend did reminded me of that.  I know that it probably sounds silly, but thats sometimes what it takes for me to get working again.  Part of this new revelation is that from this moment on I will be updating this blog a minimum of twice a week.  It will be a combination of rants and writing, maybe splashed with some art now and then.  No, I dont know for sure what days, but stay tuned for that....

In the meantime I will do what I do. Read and write comic books, dabble in fantasy, and generally dislike anyone not on my 'friends' list...