It Came From Heaven

[Mirtok 2853]

Spoiler

 

 

The lands South of Helena, just outside the typical reach of the Empire, had always been a sort of untamed and dangerous place. Ever more so now in the onset of the war against the begrudged coalition. What would have been a cautious expedition through the mired woods or a wary stroll along the roads has become a landscape locked in battle and bloodshed. Alren DeNurem had spent his fair share of time on the frontlines locked in the ebbs and flow of clashing swords and zipping arrows. A strangely welcome change of pace from the decades prior. Though in the midst of it all, other elements in the world were at play.

 

He was not witness to the appearance of certain celestial bodies as they came crashing through the skies of Arcas. Nor had he felt the rumbling from their eventual impact. What he had seen however, were the immeasurable clouds of particulate mass launched into the atmosphere. The initial crashes had created mighty columns of smoke and fine debris that could be viewed at incredible distances. The General knew not what such a sight meant for his world, nor was he aware of what dangers they would bring. His attention had been primarily locked on the strategies of warfare and the logistics of battle. From time to time, within his office atop the Bastille in Helena, his attention would momentarily be stolen away as he watched the clouds over the impact site to the South. An unmistakable pinkish haze rising up from where once before only blackened smoke.

 

“How curious”

 

The proximity to the area locked in combat was reason enough for the Imperial State Army to take interest in the events over the mountain. A few pairs of scouts were dispatched to avoid coalition positions as they journeyed to the epicenter of the otherworldly essence that whisply clawed at the heavens above from wherever it lay beyond the horizon. The hope was to understand the scope of the site, the extent of the landscape damage, and the potential for capitalization for the war effort. However, these hopes were soon lost as none of the scouting parties had returned on time . . . or at all for that matter.

 

“Captain Darkwood, have your comrades made any headway with their investigation on the impact sites? I had expected a report on my desk days ago so we can move ahead with the war effort.” Alren would call from the top of the great hall in the Bastille, leaning rigidly over the guardrail to his balcony. The towheaded officer had been tending to a recently acquired bundle of war supplies, preparing them for shipment into the warzone. Upon hearing his General's words, he snapped to attention and focused his gaze towards the direction of the voice. Issuing a smark salute he responded-

 

“None as of yet, General. We fear they may have been intercepted by coalition forces enroute to the target destination. They have failed to meet the prescribed check in periods at any of the forward deployed operation zones. Though it is also likely that the added dangers of the enemy territory has forced them to be tactically cautious so as to continue to avoid detection. I’ve prepared another rescue party to try and insert behind enemy lines to see if we can link up with the stranded scouts. Assuming they are still alive, General.”

 

“See it done comrade. I want those men found and I want this ‘thing’ catalogued. Perhaps I shall join your soldiers in the field and see things for myself.” Alren twirled the end of his mustache as he considered the prospect. The Captain acknowledged his statement before continuing on with his work towards the war effort. A prickly sense of intrigue buzzed at the back of the snowy Generals head. He wasn’t much for considering things that were not directly associated with the mundane and physical world. He would again peer out from a window facing South, this time making use of a telescopic instrument. That strange pinkish substance emmitating from ‘something’ just over the peak of the mountain. Thick and curling tendrils of unnatural material lifting up into the air- corrupting the heavenly blue with a film of something subconsciously sinister. The longer he looked, the stronger the urge to know exactly what was going on became- it was almost primal in contrast to the calculated demeanor of the highly disciplined soldier.

 

Preparations for the following journey had been astutely accomplished by the members of the search party Alren was to be a part of. The men and women of the 3rd Brigade were true professionals in their craft, horsemanship and expeditionary navigation. The General reflected back to his earlier days as the Colonel of the 1st Regiment and the original creation of this cavalry grouping. They certainly had come a long way, standing now proudly as among the Emperors finest. Their previous Captain, now Lieutenant Colonel had executed the vision perfectly. For this mission, these dragoons would be making use of their survival and tracking skills instead of their equine mastery. Alren was afforded an air of comfort heading behind enemy lines with capable comrades such as these.

 

Prior to their scheduled departure, it was customary for soldiers of the Imperial State Army to be read a passage of prayer and protection from the men of the cloth. Typically this honor would belong to the resident Chaplains of the Regiment; all of which were indisposed on the front lines, administering the last rites to the fallen slain in combat. As such, the holy words God would need to be delivered by those with an even closer ear to God, under His own roof at the Helena Basilica. As pious as any man in the Empire, Alren DeNurem entered the Lord's home, careful to wash his hands of any sin at the vessel provided near the entrance. He took a moment to admire the many murals and frescoes that adorned the sacred walls before finding his place among the masses in the pews. He, alongside his comrades, bathed in the humble embrace of the father's voice, receiving the blessings for the danger ahead.

 

Upon the conclusion of the sermon, a young lad clothed in a long white robe ceremoniously walked down the pew alley. In his possession was a neatly stacked bundle of unmistakable righteous epistles. Copies painstakingly reproduced from their progenitor document, penned by none other than the Holy Father himself, High Pontiff James II. Alren patiently waited with his head still bowed as the ornately decorated parchment was passed out to every God fearing denizen, until eventually he too had one in his hands. It was not all too often the High Pontiff would make an address of this nature unless the stakes were truly great. He read through each word as if the Pontiff were standing before him to deliver the message. But as he read, his heart began to sink deeper and deeper into his chest. The General would turn his head towards the lead Lieutenant for their expedition- his eyes still fixated on the letter- and motioned for them all to depart at once.

 

The impact of the High Pontiffs' words weighed heavy on Alrens mind while they marched South from Helena. Service to the Empire and the Emperor had been the hallmark to his entire adult life. Never once had he thought his duties to be in any way a failure in the eyes of God. Even if at times he did not fully understand the reasons behind the activities of the Imperium, his loyalty to the system had kept his head held high no matter what. All this was now challenged, for if God himself would see that his Emperor had follied, did that too spell his own failures? He shook his head in a fruitless attempt to dispel the potentially treasonous thoughts, almost misplacing his footing as a result while they scaled the Western mountains, careful not to be spotted by Dwarven patrols. These were not things he could afford to be distracted by, not while the lives of his immediate companions were on the line. Though it was certain, much would need to be discussed when he returned to Helena in the wake of this new revelation.

 

It took the rescue party several days to cover the distance to the impact site. Not only had the terrain been treacherous on it’s own- sheer cliffs and jagged rocks hungry to claim any who lapsed in focus- hostile evasion further expanded the timeline. It was on the fifth day of the expedition that it became obvious that they were close to their destination. As they drew nearer, the once far off sight that was the strange ethereal tendrils of pinkish purple were now mighty leviathans of strange smoke lazily rising up from over the ridge. The primal curiosity made an appearance once more in the normally distinguished visage of the General. Propelled by an almost obsessive attraction to finally view the source of this unknown landmark and the overall objective of their mission, Alren quickened his pace ahead of the rest in the party. Their jobs were to find evidence of the previous scouts' condition, his became to simply satisfy the hunger that raged from within.

 

As Alren drew nearer, strange sensations began to manifest throughout his body. He initially shook them off as signs of elevation fatigue, having spent several days ascended into thinner air. Such was common for novice mountaineers, he remembered how so many of the unacclimated privates in the 3rd fell victim to improper environmental immersion during their training. However, even as he descended the symptoms he was experiencing failed to dissipate. Infact, they only seemed to grow bolder and more painful. With each step in the direction of the pink smoke and charred rock, an insistent and harsh pounding would course through his skull. The air around him hung heavy in his lungs, the ashe from a mighty impact floated about him, belaboring his every breath- even through the mask he wore. It was an annoying agony to continue but the seasoned veteran pressed on nonetheless, he was so close after all.

 

“God will give me strength, his Light will carry me through this labor, and I will be humbled by his will. The Lord ruleth me, I’ll not want. He makes me down to lie, in pastures green: He leadeth me, the quiet waters by. For though I should walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. Thy rod and Thy staff, they hath been a comfort to me.”

 

The last of the words of prayer would leave his lips as Alren hoisted himself up the final ledge that blocked his path. His head ached, his body felt withered, his ears buzzed, and his throat burned. He blinked his eyes, squinting through the unnatural hues in the smoke abound. A sturdy gust of wind blew past his face, and with it the column of pollution that obscured his vision. Before him, in the bosom of the mountain amidst the charred and blasted cliff face, was a sight so bizarre that the General was stricken completely speechless. Fires raged all along it’s features, molten rock and slag ran out from underneath it like red-hot glowing rivers of honey. Alren stared in disbelief and staring back at him was the morbid grin of a truly colossal skull. Eye sockets so large, an Imperial war frigate could sail right through them. His eyes glazed over as if he were trying to look past the blackness in the back of this behemoths skull. The constant thudding in his own head reached new levels of pain, erring on the side of torture. The otherworldly gasses and particulate mass once more obscured the disturbing object. But Alren continued to stare blankly.

 

Much like a parasite would erupt from within another insect to taste the air after consuming its victim, an unwelcome and intrusive thought fought through the immaterial pounding in his mind. No amount of religious conditioning nor indoctrination had prepared him for what he saw. His mind raced to explain it all. Has God himself been cast out of Heaven by some immeasurable foe? He found himself unable to resist the words that leaked out from his mouth- into the air for everyone yet no one to hear.

 

“God is dead.”

 

Spoiler

It’s a massive white skull laying on it’s side in case you can’t distinguish it.