So I pulled all the latest Lord Derby posts together yesterday and my estimate was a bit over (I'd forgotten to account for theme weeks where I switched to other characters): there's a little over 32,000 words so far. I guess we're only half-way through then :-p
Swift Lord Derby looked around: this new room in the temple was much like the ones he'd come through at the start: stone walls, some carvings of things he decided he'd rather not decipher, worn grooves in the floor, and a doorway at the far end. He checked behind him: the passage he'd come through to get here had vanished, and he suspected that the King could do pretty much anything he wanted in the Temple. "I'd probably put some carpets in," he said, with just a hint of sarcasm. Then he took a few minutes to examine the grooves in the floor: large, oval, shallow indentations. They were smoother than the surrounding stone, but of uneven depth. "Kneeling," he said at last. His voice sounded thin, but it was better than silence. After a while it felt like it was pressing down on his eardrums, actively trying to deafen him, and the normally inaudible flow on blood in his head became a river of white noise. "These are dents made from people kneeling. Over... centuries, I guess." He stood up, wondering when Carcosa had had a population large enough to support that kind of worship and what had happened to it since. When he tried to extrapolate back he kept running up against the fact that this had to have been before mankind was mankind, and not some semi-evolved ape, or even just an accident of Nature waiting to happen. It was unsettling. The doorway held no door, and when he reached it he found that there was a tiny antechamber, about big enough for two people to stand and remove their shoes, with a heavy metal door in the far wall. There were traces of yellow on the floor, making him think first of the roiling smoke in the King's chamber, and then of the demon he'd seen killed when he first arrived here. Then he wondered if the demons worshipped the King in Yellow. The door opened with a push though his hand tingled as though he had pins and needles, and brighter light flooded into the chamber. He shaded his eyes and stepped outside.
A javelin, a barbed blade nearly a metre long attached to a wooden pole four times longer sliced swiftly through the air to his left, not quite close enough to risk hitting him, but too close for comfort, and bounded off the limestone carst. "That's a warning shot," came Samual's voice from somewhere above and behind. "Now turn round and identify yourself." Lord Derby turned, lowering his hand as the sun was now out of his eyes, but before his speak Samual gasped. "It's me, Sam," said Lord Derby pleasantly. "Did you drop something?" "Milord!" Samual was stood up on the structure of the Temple, Tomasz to his right and slightly behind him. From the look on his face he'd just seen a whole host of ghosts. "How did you do that?" asked Tomasz. "Better, why did you do that?"
Ah, the band's back together, at least. Even if the how and the path to get there were rather unsettling. Looking forward, as always, to whatever comes next.
2 comments:
So I pulled all the latest Lord Derby posts together yesterday and my estimate was a bit over (I'd forgotten to account for theme weeks where I switched to other characters): there's a little over 32,000 words so far. I guess we're only half-way through then :-p
Swift
Lord Derby looked around: this new room in the temple was much like the ones he'd come through at the start: stone walls, some carvings of things he decided he'd rather not decipher, worn grooves in the floor, and a doorway at the far end. He checked behind him: the passage he'd come through to get here had vanished, and he suspected that the King could do pretty much anything he wanted in the Temple.
"I'd probably put some carpets in," he said, with just a hint of sarcasm. Then he took a few minutes to examine the grooves in the floor: large, oval, shallow indentations. They were smoother than the surrounding stone, but of uneven depth.
"Kneeling," he said at last. His voice sounded thin, but it was better than silence. After a while it felt like it was pressing down on his eardrums, actively trying to deafen him, and the normally inaudible flow on blood in his head became a river of white noise. "These are dents made from people kneeling. Over... centuries, I guess."
He stood up, wondering when Carcosa had had a population large enough to support that kind of worship and what had happened to it since. When he tried to extrapolate back he kept running up against the fact that this had to have been before mankind was mankind, and not some semi-evolved ape, or even just an accident of Nature waiting to happen. It was unsettling.
The doorway held no door, and when he reached it he found that there was a tiny antechamber, about big enough for two people to stand and remove their shoes, with a heavy metal door in the far wall. There were traces of yellow on the floor, making him think first of the roiling smoke in the King's chamber, and then of the demon he'd seen killed when he first arrived here.
Then he wondered if the demons worshipped the King in Yellow.
The door opened with a push though his hand tingled as though he had pins and needles, and brighter light flooded into the chamber. He shaded his eyes and stepped outside.
A javelin, a barbed blade nearly a metre long attached to a wooden pole four times longer sliced swiftly through the air to his left, not quite close enough to risk hitting him, but too close for comfort, and bounded off the limestone carst.
"That's a warning shot," came Samual's voice from somewhere above and behind. "Now turn round and identify yourself."
Lord Derby turned, lowering his hand as the sun was now out of his eyes, but before his speak Samual gasped.
"It's me, Sam," said Lord Derby pleasantly. "Did you drop something?"
"Milord!" Samual was stood up on the structure of the Temple, Tomasz to his right and slightly behind him. From the look on his face he'd just seen a whole host of ghosts.
"How did you do that?" asked Tomasz. "Better, why did you do that?"
Greg - yes, well, that's still danged impressive.
Ah, the band's back together, at least. Even if the how and the path to get there were rather unsettling. Looking forward, as always, to whatever comes next.
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