That's it. I think I found what I needed to start something serious, a link between the major elements that interested me (too bad for the others). A brief beginning, a guideline. First chapter, first discovery of this new world that is very different from the previous nearest us, more real but more zany, more imagination. All that remains to go and write. Ah yes of course he must y'ait a quack. Happy reading.
Music Inspiration: Cultus Ferox - Tamfanae
It is stupid things we did when we will die. Vincent Duroy was not an exception to the rule. First man to reach the top of the Ati Aggape, Mount gods, Vincent did not think his name go down in history as well. The ascent was rough, his equipment was rudimentary. His guides had deserted to three thousand meters. According to them the gods take offense if he continued. From the top of his delusional quarantine, Vincent does not believe in gods and knew that one of his colleagues had tried the previous year. He had to give up a little higher because of summit preparation, but this would soon be defeated and he could not pass up a chance to put his name in history. Maybe rename it in honor of the mountain. Wrapped
as he could, his mustache was frozen through his nose and cover he could not smooth it with her fingers. That was missing. The wind was blowing and the flakes are plates that his glasses. He often had to remove them for trying. The ascent was slow and painful, he missed fall twice but it was nothing compared to the level of exhaustion is reached, the wind constantly fought against you, trying to prevent even the smallest step forward as if you wanted roll to the plains below. Touching cold seeped into the lower gap of his clothes and he thanked his brother thought cyclist who advised him to be pressed newsprint on the chest. The fleeting image of his frozen body found a few years later with the scores attached to the skin made him smile. His chapped lips were split but not felt the most. A torch would fire him tonight and its autonomy was too weak to use it for long. He still could not see the top, covered with clouds and slowly began to lose hope. It operates the lever of his oxygen pump to give it a second wind, lever creaked and gave him the game he should definitely get to the summit the next day if he would quit. He had prepared his body lean to the lack of food but here everything was a battle of the spirit, of will.
His piercing blue eyes, still could not watch the sky while the clouds around him gently. He had expect to benefit from a unique view of a memorable vision but he saw only rocks, snow and clouds. He found a crevice that allows it to shelter from the wind for the night but he slept only two hours dreaming of the good meal he would get home. He started waking up, fearing that he too slept, his legs the refrigerated already struggling to his feet. He went his way painfully before sunrise despite the danger. He walked with difficulty but carefully. It without realizing it finally reached the summit. It pierced the roof and watched cloud heaven when he realized there was nothing above him. He placed the flag atop Vitalyan next to a plaque where his name was engraved in letters of gold. It seemed terribly out of place here but wanted to ensure that we can not dispute his passage.
Euphoria won the last, his name would remain forever engraved on top. There right away, he wanted to write to his wife Lea, but his fingers were frozen. He vowed to return, this time with other, better equipped. He chuckles thinking about the disappointment of its competitors and the joy of his patron. It would likely receive a lot of money, it would conferences around the world and ...
He had now come down, he worked on the task, everything seemed easier, he no longer felt so tired. His haste to descend marked the end of humanity. Where the rise had been prepared, carefully planned, the descent was as carefree excitement. He slipped stupidly, as always in these cases. He tried frantically to catch up, he planted his ice ax firmly but HOOK than snow and landed heavily on the ground, banged her head on something hard and he fell into an unconscious feeling gently slide down the precipice.
He blinked several times before the eye to restore sight, his whole body was screaming in pain, his head constantly hitting his leg and had to be broken. He could not see well and took time to realize that the night had fallen.
few yards above him, the lips of stones that had swallowed opened a sky without stars and cloudless. He tried to move but could only drag himself a few inches before screaming in pain. His meager forces were deserting from hour to hour. He had narrowly escaped a fall on rocks, the bag was ripped him there. He could not recover much. He dragged it anyway, agreeing large breaks. Over the hours, the moon slowly fills the space. His blue rays filled the cave and were reflected on the walls of ice. After chewing his last reserves, Vincent patiently awaiting death. The cold had now engulfed the pain of his broken leg. He was no longer alive to time and considered himself dead in order to reduce the anxiety that gripped. A golden, fleeting, attracted his attention.
There, encased in the wall, a horn. It was almost a foot long. His mouth set in gold, emerged intact from the ice in the open air as if the cold had no control over it.
The rest of his horn was pressed deep into the wall and had almost the color. The white alabaster that covered it should be invisible in daylight, only the moon had allowed him to reveal. The instrument was slightly curved with a flared end which seemed but everything was fine enough. Enough so that it examines the origin thereof. Without being an expert, he could not see what animal was a horn as long and narrow.
He had met without even realizing it, his curiosity piqued. A sudden thought struck him, he was therefore the first point in defeating the Ati Aggape?
Heat is answered in its members as a wildfire, anger swept over him. Here he is ridiculed, his efforts were in vain and he died imprisoned here, forgotten history.
He grunted in pain, his whole body swarmed by fighting the cold. He no longer felt his feet but he could still rely on valid. He was not dead yet. His heart was pounding, his ears were ringing as if waiting for his mistake came now and celebrated his visitor. He wondered for a moment if he does not delirious but in the end it mattered little. A harsh breath escaped his lips and he realized he had not breathed since he had laid his eyes on the strange object. The ice around gave the impression of waving, he did not know if it was due to moonlight or to his poor mental health.
He blinked with the impression that he had missed a moment, leaving the moon slowly opening up to the sky. It seemed to him an eternity had passed and he was harnessed to bring his lips to the mouthpiece. What a preposterous idea! The object was too depressed to be able to produce any sound and there should be the work of ten hundred men not to dislodge it. If he was still moving his lips, they remain glued to the tip by the effect of cold, but how can you resist?
Whence came this sudden hope which gave the illusion that he could release the object, climbing three meters that separated the opening and down the mountain with a broken leg, no equipment or food.
Madness! He laughed and tried to do. His sore throat which had now spoken a single word for days gave a pathetic quack. His lips cracked
, his hand went up to his tanned face and pulled his cloak clumsily unfastened buttons. He lowered his nose nervously cache, depositing crystals of ice on his lips. He pushed her against the instrument and blew. He emptied his lungs and weakened again as if he could get out of one beautiful sound.
His heart was beating so hard his eardrums vibrate rapidly in and BOOM BOOM BOOM. He blew one last time, without much hope but euphoric. The beat became more insistent, wind instruments join. The madness was at the gates of his mind and in a moment of bravado, he danced. Oh nothing too demonstrative. He suffered too much for it but that thin quivering hips and arms trembled was all he had to offer the world. The last gesture
healthy before sinking into madness, a kind of picnic to death. The music grew louder and he still wanted to laugh. Drums joined them, flutes, bagpipes he recognized now. He wanted to dance, believing that the gods descended from heaven to prevail.
There, he pricks, deformed by the thickness of the ice, as if he gazed across a thick glass with a day of heavy rain. Forms, tens or hundreds of thousands, he would have said, advancing toward him. It was music emanating from them.
around the horn, the ice cracking in quietly without a noise that could disturb the divine music. He retreated, or rather sprawled on the ground, exhausted. The forms became more and more distinct, more massive, too. The music grew louder, the mountain began to vibrate, Protestant by an avalanche that produced a distant rumble that seemed gigantic just a whisper. Nothing could match the power of Notes made the air vibrate around. He began to distinguish the first musicians. Men, and yet for giants, elongated head and hands disproportionate. The long fingers twitched over long flutes and twirling their feet between each step, performing a complex dance and agile. Others. He wanted to rub his eyes but he was petrified. Even under the impression of insanity, he could not believe what he saw. Four massive legs, each of them that reminds one beef by the size and lizard in the way of change, supported a broad hairy chest who trembled at the sound of the huge drum that hung down to his shoulders. Folded thighs nibbling distance almost like spiders. Titanic arms each supported a club that ruthlessly cut down on the stretched skin.
Others. Females whose sails were not separated from the body, which seemed to have no leg but heavy breasts that stood out and quivered as they circled again and again. It
Y'avait many misshapen beings he could not describe or understand form. Other legendary beasts, missing, impossible. He almost fainted when he saw the source of the sound of bagpipes.
Some kind of clothing bedecked dandies and head swollen like a balloon ready to explode, shining from the inside by exposing the blood vessels and worse. Teeth protruded from below, like hanging ready to fall. He closed his eyes for a moment, gained by nausea. And opened his eyes when the procession stopped and seemed to understand all sides. The music had not stopped for a moment and he thought that his heart would not rhythm. And then he saw what he thought the ice, or a backdrop or simply the distance that this effect is difficult to distinguish when the distance is too large, in short he could not see. It was a huge chest filled with arms, black silk and eyes. And when he looked up what was his head, he could not bear the sight and fell into oblivion.
