RE: Ghostwriter
05-18-2018, 12:16 PM
>The story would take a stranger turn. Dime would fail to stop Belfry, and the beacon would be used. It was meant to inform the homeworld, and inform it did. They would send a solitary ship, not to aid but to egress. Their home was undergoing a monstrous invasion of its own, and the beacon offered a chance of a new home for their people.
But the other world would neither respond (lest the invaders hear their plan) or be the ones TO respond.
The ones who answered, none would expect. Glimmering, jabbering monoliths prattling in their hundred-tongue speech. They came from a cold, empty place between the two worlds. They heard the beacon, and the promise of warmth was a glimmering invitation. The noise they sent the beacon would itch, and leave the listener lost as to what sent the message back.
Their passage was slow, they would not arrive until long after the refugee ship had reached the beacon. When they arrived, these monolith beings were hardly any help. One might sculpt a cocoon from wax to nest during the winter. Another might float through the streets on its side, murmuring of river-dreams. A third would bury itself deep beneath the ground, and begin to scream. They were strange, unnerving things that would quickly become a mundane annoyance. One store might even make plush replicas to sell, or offer tarps to cover them with. But all of this comes later, much later. The planet would have other, more pressing matters until then.
But the other world would neither respond (lest the invaders hear their plan) or be the ones TO respond.
The ones who answered, none would expect. Glimmering, jabbering monoliths prattling in their hundred-tongue speech. They came from a cold, empty place between the two worlds. They heard the beacon, and the promise of warmth was a glimmering invitation. The noise they sent the beacon would itch, and leave the listener lost as to what sent the message back.
Their passage was slow, they would not arrive until long after the refugee ship had reached the beacon. When they arrived, these monolith beings were hardly any help. One might sculpt a cocoon from wax to nest during the winter. Another might float through the streets on its side, murmuring of river-dreams. A third would bury itself deep beneath the ground, and begin to scream. They were strange, unnerving things that would quickly become a mundane annoyance. One store might even make plush replicas to sell, or offer tarps to cover them with. But all of this comes later, much later. The planet would have other, more pressing matters until then.
Quiet. Good for an unusual opinion. Doesn't talk much.