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Rollory
Mar 17, 2009, 1:09:00 PM3/17/09
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Space is a lullaby, exploration a dream. The motionless environments
beyond the wormholes are places of refuge, retirement, safety, stasis.
Nestled in this corner, a comfortable deadspace pocket, something
ancient resides: a society asleep, their secret structures inert and
isolated, safe in soundless void.
beyond the wormholes are places of refuge, retirement, safety, stasis.
Nestled in this corner, a comfortable deadspace pocket, something
ancient resides: a society asleep, their secret structures inert and
isolated, safe in soundless void.
These ruins doze away, oneiromantic. They’ve slumbered for millennia,
yet their structure remains intact. In their torpor, their memories
have dimmed, their significance forgotten, their inhabitants faded.
Ripe secrets are stored in this sleeping mass, hidden wonders for the
taking.
Reaching the Sleepers’ treasures is a hazardous task. Something stirs
amidst the ancient outpost: a nagging fear, a festering phantasm. Not
everything sleeps peacefully here: Who knows if there are nightmares
lurking in this berceuse?
Rollory
Mar 21, 2009, 2:53:57 PM3/21/09
to
Suddenly the illusion of solitude shatters. Slender, articulated
obsidian shapes slide toward you from the surrounding darkness of
space. Your sensors scream claxons into your auditory cortex as the
drones' targeting systems lock onto your ship. You are not alone.
Perhaps you never were.
obsidian shapes slide toward you from the surrounding darkness of
space. Your sensors scream claxons into your auditory cortex as the
drones' targeting systems lock onto your ship. You are not alone.
Perhaps you never were.
The Sleepers have risen.
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