Archive for May, 2014

Hark!
Fall to your bloodstained knees,
Hear these words as you toil,
The clergy of oppression has spoken,
Protestant,
Catholic,
Or otherwise,
Seal your minds and follow our words.

God loves you,
Rationality is heresy,
Creativity is unholy,
Ideas are unhealthy,
Lovers are adulterous,
Progressives are witches,
Repeat after your clergy,
God loves you.

God cherishes you,
Bigotry is a strong faith,
Prejudice is your only shield,
Works of art are false idols,
Butchers of men are crusaders,
Your asinine resolve is stagnation,
Repeat after your clergy,
God cherishes you.

Worship your so-called god freely,
Revel in the regime,
And repeat after me,
Amen?

Regime

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Hagman

“Hello there! You look a little bit lost. I got lost once. How did you find your way here, into the Asylum? They, the voices in the walls, call this place the Asylum. It’s some kind of dimensional plane outside of our own world. You can be strange and kept safe here. It’s a place of oddness, but at the same time, individuality. You can be utterly yourself here. I can be myself here. That gent over there can be himself here. Any man, woman, child, monster, devil or creature can be themselves here. I live here now you know. They call me the Hag-Man. Who knows why. They found me in the desert. I’m something of a scholar you see. I search up and down for all sorts of knowledge. Knowledge of the other side, of magic, of madness, of mystery. I like to know things you see. I’m definitely the smartest man here. They found me in the desert. I’m not mad.

I hail from Germany originally, Frankfurt I believe. However, I spent most of my life in Nevada. You see, I was a scientist once. I was something of an Egyptologist and a geologist. I know I look rather fair, but I spent a number of years in the Valley of the Dead and the Saharan Dunes before I got lost. Did I tell you I got lost once? I got lost and now I’m here.

I was testing a theory you see. I detected something of a spiritual channel sprouting out of the Egyptian tombs, out into the Sahara. I believe I called it a “Leyline” at the time. Much to the disbelief and arguments of my oafish colleagues, I followed the Leyline into the desert. Mad perhaps? Perhaps not. We’re all made here but I’m not. Not. Not. Not. Not. Not. Not. What happened? Don’t you listen? I got lost and now I’m here.

Inmates and seekers of knowledge both would do well to seek me out. Keep me interested and I’ll tell you where to find something or how to kill something or what something does. I’m definitely the most knowledgeable person in here. This Asylum has an odd effect on people within it. This place changed me, my mind has never felt so liberated. I’m quite literally a know-it-all now. Magic is straight forward now. The unknown is known to me. Monsters are childs play. Science is a breeze. Easy. Easy. Easy.

I’ll tell you what isn’t straight forward though. The purpose of this place and what it is. We’re not sealed in here, many have left the Asylum and returned to the mundane world. A separate dimension yes, but why and where? Why does this place exist? Why do the curious members of society end up here? Why do we change while within its archaic halls? I know everything obviously, but I don’t know the answers to these questions. I theorize it has something to do with the mysterious creator of this place: Big papa Harlequin. The Oldschool Harlequin they call him. I haven’t really seen this being before, but I sort of feel him nearby at all times. I don’t really know how to explain that. He’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time in this place. He never speaks to us. Silent. Silent. Silent.

Personally I like it within these halls. It’s a calm, chilled place. It’s oddly familiar, mostly resembling a typical insane asylum from the real world, yet with the most alien array of residents imaginable. I get along with the majority of other denizens, despite their eccentricities. Oh, and their inferiority of course. It feels safe here and I’ve never felt so free. I was lost and now I found myself here. I’ll tell you more about it eventually I reckon, you seem curious enough to me. I think I’m going to stay here, forever…”

The Hag-Man

My life,
Hardship, always for me.

Gratitude, always for another.

Restriction, always for me.

Freedom, always for another.

Obscurity, always for me.

Fame, always for another.

Envy, always for me.

Love, always for another.

Unsightliness, always for me.

Life, always for another.

Always

“Primea is a tumultuous place, to say the least. You see it everyday in my trade, if you could call it a trade. I travel from one end of the continent to the other, exploring every ruin and following every tale. I thrive on the unknown and the bizarre, I flourish in exploration, I live for mystery. I’ve seen many things that I can’t explain and many things that I wish I hadn’t even witnessed. Prime amongst these are the monsters of Dust. I find myself writing time and again just how dreadful these horrific things are. Just how dangerous they are. Just how absolutely alien they are. I feel like I’m beginning to repeat myself. They’re simply the worst denizens of this world. I often get chills as I rest, simply by thinking about the creatures I’ve seen. However, this is lessened somewhat by knowing there are those out there who have dedicated their lives to hunting these horrors.

Not all are willing to sit by and allow horrors of Dust ravage outlying villages and scheme in unknown labyrinths. There are those who would cast their fear aside and become a predator. A predator of Dust monsters. A scary prospect, to be sure. These individuals are considered madmen and fools by the majority of the civilized population. Their cause can be considered just, though inevitably ghastly. These individuals are commonly called “Dust Slayers” or “Inquisitors”. Collectively, they are referred to as the “Common Inquisition”. A legion of common people who live to end Dust monsters. They are not a literal group or institution, but they share a common interest and often exchange information with one another if their paths cross.

They are naturally all dangerous individuals. I’ve met a small number in my time. I’ve seen them take on abominations, the likes of which you could not imagine. Naturally not all I met were sane. Dust Slayers usually operate alone, either fearing for the safety of other innocents or cultivating a deep mistrust for everyone and everything. It is not uncommon for an Inquisitors hunt to spill over into the fields of crime. More than one Inquisitor has become a serial killer, supposedly as the lines between monster and man were blurred.

There is almost always a particular event that sets a Slayer off on his or her personal crusade. It is not a simply whim that compels a man to hunt a creature made of pure chaos, a very real and physical nightmare. Inquisitors hunt for their own reasons, not simply for the good of civilization. It is rare indeed for an Inquisitor to hunt simply to protect the innocent, their hunts are pervaded by pure hatred or self-destructive thoughts. A Slayer may have lost a loved one to a Dust creature or witnessed the remains of a humble village on the edge of a wasteland. Rather than shrink away in fear from the experience, these individuals set out for revenge against the manifestations of Dust.

The majority of Slayers are solitary hunters, though they have been known to hunt in groups. Individual Slayers may pick up the same trail and decide to partner up. This way, larger Dust creatures can be toppled. A small group of Slayers armed with musket, sabre and gunpowder can dominate even the most terrible creature, given the planning. That is the most important facet of the Common Inquisition. Without an element of pre-planning, an inexperienced Slayer is likely to have the tables turned on himself. As with mundane animals, a Dust monster is freakishly dangerous when cornered.

As well as these, there are a small number of organizations that also claim to be hunters of Dust. There are the obvious governmental institutions like Tern Street and the Masques, who seek to further the interests of their nations. These are not strictly members of the Common Inquisition clearly, though have been known to assist in eliminating Dust creatures. I’ve even heard tell of individual Tern Street Runners assisting Inquisitors in specific hunts. There are less well-known or underground groups that also seek to eliminate the Dust. They too hunt the Dust monsters, however they have their own reasons for being and for hunting. For example, there is the Brotherhood of Calont who follow in the footsteps of a legendary Dust Slayer. Also, the Coterie of the Impervious Crucible, who bring a religious fervor like no other to the hunt. These groups are not necessarily considered part of the Common Inquisition, but I felt were worth mentioning all the same.

Many Inquisitors are ordinary people who often lead secret lives, working at day and hunting at night. Many have families and loved ones to take care of. An Inquisitor is rarely a rich individual, it doesn’t often bring a monetary reward nor gratitude. They have been known to even live in slums, hunting with the barest essentials and armaments. Indeed, many Slayers have nothing but the hunt left. Hunting out of obsession or with suicidal intentions. Some of these poor souls become twisted, becoming part of that which they once hunted. These poor fools are known as “Furies”. Their minds crack at the horrors they have faced or are bent to the will of their Dust prey. Many go mad, seeing everyone and everything as enemies. As I mentioned previously, many become serial killers, believing the innocents they slaughter are Dust creatures as well. These people embody the line “When the hunter becomes the hunted”. How horrifically literal.

I fear the world would be a darker place without the Common Inquisition watching our streets and lands. They are a force of grey against the blackness of the Dust. They aren’t perfect, and they most certainly are not necessarily pure servitors of justice. But I think that the people of Primea, myself included, can sleep softer knowing that there are those who try to keep the monsters back, fighting desperately with their sword arms and sanity.”

From the memoirs of Hermann Maestra.

Are your foundations of hope shuddering?
Does your world face a personal doom?
Do you hear crucifying words at your flanks?
Do even your friends show jackal teeth?
Is your heart drooping like a victim of the hangman’s noose?

Then find a solitary place,
Away from all of that pollution,
And throw your head and arms up to the warm sky,
Cry out for salvation and hope.

Enter the ever-just Stalwart,
He will come to your aid,
Clad in gleaming gold armor,
And wielding a glorious aegis,
He will be your ally.

Diminutive yet tenacious,
Staunch yet loving,
Simple yet virtuous,
Silent yet vigilant,
Firm yet chivalrous.

He lives to protect the troubled,
His only armament a wooden sword,
And his golden armor topped by an oaken bascinet,
His sword represents his lack of a life of his own,
And his helm illustrates his lack of a mind.

Yet he will defend you from all that ails you,
His shield will deflect the wolfish words and laughter,
He will shine a light so you know the way,
He will destroy any threat to your soul.

You need only call him,
For he has no life nor mind to call his own.

Stalwart

There once was a court jester named Pimm,
Who did not quite much the life given unto him,
Cursed with a family ever so droll,
Our dear Pimm did elope,
Filled with vigor and hope,
While his family were eaten alive by a troll.

He found employ with a petty king,
King Rodric marveled at Pimms idyllic linguistic strings,
Pimm amused his court with elegant canticles and absurd dances,
He garnered attention from all of the court,
A fair lady did fawn as he did cavort,
Seeing our Pimms dramas as romantic advances.

The fair lady was alluring without compare,
But a dreadful madness her mind did ensnare,
Our clever Pimm her advances he did rebuff,
Pimms rationale was pure and warm,
Yet her bitter mind conjured a dire storm,
She would have her revenge sure enough.

A horrendous plot the lady did concoct,
She would see our Pimm beaten and mocked,
Her fellow courtiers she did poison against him,
His majesty Rodric was next to succumb to her lingual blight,
Enmity and distrust against our Pimm did alight,
A short life of torch and pitchfork awaited our poor Pimm.

Innocent Pimm had to go into hiding,
The kings men were close to finding where Pimm was residing,
All hope was surely gone for good,
Our Pimm gripped that which would give him release,
A self-destructive blade to cause his misery to cease,
I would end on a joyous note if i only could.

Dirge

Good day inmates!

I hope you’re all having a fine friday! I just have a small, simple update for you today. It made me laugh a little bit you see. When I logged on to WordPress earlier on today to check my notifications, I noticed that I had received this…

anniversary-1x

Time to celebrate? Not quite. It turns out today, the 16th of May, is the anniversary for WorldofHarley. This made me laugh a little bit. I guess I’m quite easy to amuse really. You see, I opened my WordPress account on this day last year, but I didn’t actually write my first, slightly dull update until October. I suppose that it’s a little bit of a non-anniversary for me. So yes, thank you WordPress for reminding me when I spawned WorldofHarley, but I fear you may be slightly off. Sort of.

Have a very crazy day inmates!

Oh little toy soldier,
Why do you cry?
Wooden hands held tight to your face,
Gluey tears oozing southward,
Unheard sobs in the toy box.

Oh little toy soldier,
What are you afraid of?
Build by corporate talons,
Driven onward by unfeeling authorities,
Led to fight for your spiteful toy box state.

Oh little toy soldier,
Grab your pop gun.
It is time to wage war,
On all of those other toy soldiers.
They are of different toy box colors.

Toy soldier

“During all my travels and all of my years, there are few beings in this world that worry me more than the Julmurns. These abominable, reptilian creatures have stained countless lands with blood, razed numberless homes and brutally ended untold lives. I hesitate to call these beings evil however, they are simply blinded by what can only be described as an immensely influential theocracy. Julmurns live in a church-state, one that dwarfs even that of the Human Religion of Dust of the past. The Dust is ironically integral to the Julmurn culture as well, in a far less harmful form however. The Julmurns once surged from the wastelands of the south end of Primea, intent on dominating all “inferior” beings. They sought nothing more than to bring all of Primea under their theocratical and tyrannical yolk.

The Julmurns hail from the Zyst Einode (yet another Dust Wasteland), south of the Pienna mountains in the neutral lands. They have carved something of a state out of the savage lands of the southern edge of Primea. A Julmurn is typically regarded as a savage and loathsome creature, almost universally despised in the lands of mankind. Julmurns are something of a tribal race, primitive in terms of technology yet well versed in the occult. They prefer to live in villages scattered throughout the Badlands of the south, electing to live in smaller groups rather than erect grand cities. There is one exception to this rule however. There is a place deep within the Zyst Einode that is said to be something of a sacred city-cathedral. Julmurns rarely mention it. There are few depictions of it in Julmurn texts. Mankind has never set foot there, nor has humanity even bore witness to it. It is simply referred to as the “Unseen City”. Even Julmurns that have ventured out into the world appear to know nothing of it either. I have been unable to learn anything more on this firmly mysterious place.

The Julmurns are a truly archaic race. Tribal records even predate those of humanity. They are, therefore, believed to have evolved far before humans did. It is possible that the Julmurns are more aware of where the Dust came from too. An odd theory perhaps, but the Julmurns raise some interesting parallels to Dust monsters. You see, the Julmurns are a Dust-based race, yet are not created by any form of Dust magic. They could be referred to as a “natural” Dust creature. Also, unlike Dust monsters, Julmurns haves some measure of intelligence and are undoubtedly self-aware. They are primitive, yes. Perhaps even barbaric. But they are not monsters. They are simply another fascinating, albeit terrifying, race of our world.

Unlike Humans, Julmurns are a fairly unified people. They very rarely war with each other and appear to exhibit a certain brotherhood amongst themselves. They commonly trade amongst villages, they have even been known to trade with outside powers, such as Hauteclaire or Bulrin. There are Julmurns that venture out on their own, even settling in human cities, but these are the exceptions rather than the rule. This race-wide kinship can largely be attributed to the powerful Julmurn religion. The Julmurns refer to this as the “Topisulk” or the “Way of Dust”. The Julmurns worship the Dust, it pervades their very being, their very society. They believe that all life came from the Dust and that the Julmurns were chosen by the Dust as some kind of “Prime race” Julmurns view themselves was the prime examples of life in this world.  Flux and mutation are tenets of their religion, the Julmurns embrace Dust mutation as the will of their deity. Dust monsters do not harm the Julmurns and have even been known to serve them in some of their conquests. They believe that one day the Dust will perfect their forms into demigods. But first they must demonstrate their superiority over the inferior children of Dust. Because of this belief, coupled with the Julmurns chosen habitat, they are highly subject to Dust mutation. It is common to see Julmurns with extra sets of arms, secondary jaws, extra eyes or all manner of other shocking anomalies. They embrace these changes as gifts from the Dust. They are physically beings of constant flux. A Julmurns day isn’t complete without contact with the Dust after all.

The Julmurns were first encountered by humanity in the time of Emperor Otto Bulrin, when a Julmurn raid was initiate on the neutral city of Hauteclaire. A message of requested aid was sent to the Bulrin Empire, whom answered with an army built from the folk of Ontarfeld and Emperor Otto’s personal guard. The raid became a full siege, with an estimated total of 12,000 Julmurns present. The defense forces of Hauteclaire only numbered roughly a thousand, with the Bulrin reinforcements numbering about 3000. Upon Otto’s arrival, he witness horror like no other, civilians caught outside the city walls by the Julmurns were being butchered and even eaten in some cases. The Julmurns also appeared to conduct strange rituals on living and dead captives alike, spawning horrific Dust creatures. Otto took note that the Dust monsters appeared to treat the Julmurns as kin.

Upon witnessing this travesty, Otto ordered an attack. The Bulrin forces battle tooth and claw against primitive (though effective) Julmurn melee weaponry, Dust monsters and destructive Dust magic. Unfortunately in an unforeseen flanking charge, Otto was slain by an unusually large Julmurn with four arms. However the typical Bulrin discipline won out in the end, with the Bulrins successfully managing to meet up with the beleaguered Hauteclaire forces. Reinforcements from the Nordfeld 2nd legion and a detachment from the Kingdom of Riefe border forces arrived at this time and together the Humans managed to push the Julmurns back south to a previously unknown pass in the Pienna mountains, evidently where the Julmurn horde had initially poured from. Here, the Julmurns began to flee en masse, cursing as they went. The day was won. From that day onward the pass, which is now known as Union Pass (in honor of the Bulrins, Hauteclairians and Riefans who fought there), is kept under close guard and watch by neutral forces, in case of future attacks. There would be further, yet smaller, raids from the south but these were always beaten back by the staunch defenders of Union Pass.

Perhaps you now see why Julmurns are almost universally hated and reviled where ever they go, almost treated in the same way those innocents at Hauteclaire were treated by the Julmurn horde. However, as mentioned before, not all Julmurns are like those butchers. Not all Julmurns follow the Topisulk and indeed not all are savages. There are Julmurns within Human and Demien circles, often hidden, taking employment as guards or strongmen. These same Julmurns ofttimes find a form of kinship in the criminal underworld, utilizing their strong bodies as leg-breakers or robbers.

The average Julmurn is roughly 7ft for males and 6”5ft for females, dwarfing any average Human. They have roughly humanoid bodies, sporting two arms and walking on two legs. The head is always lizard-like, oft even complete with crests. Their bodies are hairless and instead are scaled. Julmurn skin tones can range from grey to a fleshy/pink color (like a Human) to near greens. They have a tendency to slouch, which tends to mask their true height somewhat. It is a scientifically agreed fact that almost every Julmurn is something of a physical powerhouse, musclebound and durable. Unfortunately, they suffer for this strength in the mental department. Though often cunning, Julmurns are naturally dim-witted and notoriously stupid. They struggle with Human speech, electing instead to speak in their native tongues. It has, however, been known for Dust to give to give individual Julmurns unnatural intellect. I even once heard a story of a Julmurn inventor. Take that with a grain of salt though.

Julmurns who follow the Topisulk view all other non-Dust based creatures as inferior and unworthy of existing. Theirs is a traditional and superstitious race, with countless traditions and customs, from war-dances to mating rites. Their entire culture revolves around the Dust or “Konigcyste”. Their creation story, which is well known to scholars all over, is a strange tale of an intergalactic being, Dust, a lost people and something that the Julmurns call the “Pilczar” or “Weak God”. It is unknown whether this Pilczar is the intergalactic being or the lost people however. It is a mysterious story, even the Julmurns are ignorant of its true meaning.

It would not be unreasonable to think that the Julmurn culture may hold clues into the nature and creation of the Dust. Let us hope it is not our doom…”

From the memoirs of Hermann Maestra.

Julmurn

 

Hate me not for my cowardice.
Hate me not for me gutlessness.
Hate me not for my shoddy aim,
Nor my quick feet.

Hate me not for my surrender.
Hate me not for my skyward hands.
Hate me not for my lost friends,
Nor my guiltless enemy.

Hate me not for my treason.
Hate me not for failing my nation.
Hate me not for refusing to kill,
Nor dropping my gun.

Hate me for my white flag.
Hate me for retaining my love.
Hate me for siding with my conscience,
And keeping my humanity intact.

So-called courageous and heroic souls,
Can you say the same?

Coward