059 – Lunatic Skitter

As the drums of war pulse on the air, the tide of madness marches to war. It is a terrifying and comedic sight at the same time, as the forces beyond the Veil have a flimsy grip on our reality and all they can muster is somewhat crooked mimicry, like a picture cast in a broken shards of a mirror that was already wonky to begin with. From an oozing mass of fractal insanity soldiers emerge, forming rank and file of peculiar soldier, each alike and at the same time, each its own curious figment. Some march backwards, other lope on all fours, some sing, some cry, some try to tell jokes in languages that was lost to time or perhaps didn’t emerge yet. As the army marches, it scatters slowly, blobs of unreal matter craving shape and function, even as it tears at their very essence, sparkling them with agonies that doesn’t wrack them simply because they don’t know yet how to process the sensation. New forms emerge. Some huge, hulking – braying beasts that believe brutish strength is the way to go. Other narrows, slims and emerge enlightened, chosen by the Titans to carry their unmaking capabilities. More turn into leaping beasts, bounding hounds of dark, oozing matter. And then, some ask why they should be bound to this strange ground by some uncanny force? Why can’t they soar the sky which atoms scorch at their phantasmal, roiling skin? They sprout wings of every shape and size, shedding weight off their frame to turn light and lanky, adapting rapidly to forms they spied through the Veil on this foetid, blossoming, unruly shore of reality…