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Demonic Gate

Opening the Gate, Writings and Other Works

19 posts in this topic

For my first piece of work, I'll be releasing daily logs in a post-apocalypse scenario setting I've been working on. I want to keep it a day at a time so you get a good experience out of wondering what happens next. (At least in the hopes that you stay interested long enough to read a bunch of it.)

 

The story revolves around a man called Ian, a character of mine, who takes it upon himself to travel in a world inhabited by the undead. It's also somewhat based off of a Dungeons and Dragons campaign I was in once, so if creatures you've never heard of appear, you can either look them up or let your imagination do the work. But for now.
 

Journal Entry #1
 
Today's the day! Finally my first day of travel and I can bearly contain myself. I honestly slept in my mother's bed last night hoping my nerves would calm down...cried for a few hours, but this morning I felt amazing. Ever since the other day, I've felt the extreme desire to go outside of the walls of this little gathering of people. My mother slapped me when I told her I was planning on leaving, but I expected that...it's not easy to admit that you're going to go to your nearly guarenteed death. But not me! I'm confident in my abilities. I've been training during the evenings when no one's around, and have even taken to trying my hand at a bow! It's a little hard, but I think I'm getting the hang of it all. Father was silent about the matter. He knew that he couldn't really hold me back any longer, and I'm glad he's willing to let me live my life. My sister was crying all morning when I was packing, but I lulled her back to sleep so my parents wouldn't wake. She looked so peaceful when she finally fell back to sleep. Such a little thing...it made me smile, it gave me strength to take the first step out the door. I nearly threw up just from that...but this would only get harder, and I couldn't let myself get discouraged! Until next time, I love you Mother, Father, and little Elaine...

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Journal Entry #2

 

It's been a month since I've left home. The beauty of the world...I wonder what it looked like before all of this death and disease. I've been thinking about it ever since I saw a darkened area where what I could only guess was a spring of cool water tarnished and made black with the disease of the undead. The strangest thing was, when I looked inside the water, my reflection was also diluted, it showed my hair white like I was aged to the point of the elderly. An absurd thought, my black hair stays its color day after day, and will do so for years to come. I've only seen one or two folk with such hair, and they were aged to the point of senility, ranting on how the world used to be a lush field of green grass, blue sea, bright blue skies, and flowers the color of something called a rainbow. Up until now I thought it only the raving of an absurd old coot, but recently my lonely thoughts have led me to question such things. Such lovely colors really covering such large amounts of the world? I'd love to see something like that. It really would make this journey a lot more bearable. However, I can't start nit-picking about the matter, it would make me look a fool to start day-dreaming when an undead creature could come out of nowhere at any point. I might leave this journal for a few more months this time. What I thought would be a horrifying world full of creatures trying to kill me really is nothingness...I've seen maybe one skeleton before, but it was preoccupied with something. But, until next time.

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Journal Entry #3

 

My god...here I thought I'd be leaving this journal alone for a while. Not a week since my last entry has something drastically changed my outlook on the world. I holed myseld up in an abandoned church today and, found myself a real nice hammer for fighting those creatures with. It was left in a closet along with a set of robes and what looked like a long forgotten skeleton of the priest that preached here, a sword held in his boney hands that was between two of his ribs. Did such a man of faith truly lose his hope..? The symbol that was still somewhat there on the stained glass window, or atleast what was left of it, was of a sun with a wise face. A few people called him Pelor from what I could gather, and he still looks over us. Heh...it seem laughable really. A being that used to show his love to his chosen people, looking over them as they suffered, died, and rose from their graves to devour the living remnants? How anyone could believe such a man is still 'watching over us' is simply cause for laughter. Though I suppose I can't judge those that hold their faith in such a man, it drives them. And as a man driven by sheer desire to see the world, who am I to look down on anyone? I've decided to stay here for a few days to relax. Perhaps someone else will stumble upon this place and I could speak with someone for a change. Until we meet again.

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Journal Entry #4

 

It's official, never stay too long in a place without being confident you can get out without a scratch. I woke up about a month ago in that church I talked about in my last entry. I heard some clattering in the lower hall and when I went to see what it was, a small group of zombies began to shamble after me. I'd never seen one til that day, and I hated every moment I kept my eyes on it. The rotting flesh, the listless stare, the wretching smell...it was awful. What made it worse was the thought that it was once a person, a loved one, someone that people saw and spoke with everyday. It was sad seeing such a thing trying to swipe at me. That's when I learned my newest lesson. Never lose yourself when staring down an enemy. I hesitated and I got gashed across my eye. I couldn't see for a few days...and by the time I felt I was at a safe distance, I couldn't see the church anymore. I had run for about ten minutes. Such a difference such a small amount of time brings. You could be sitting safe in bed one moment, and be thrust right in the face of death the next. It made me appreciate the few days I had of relaxation, and even more so, appreciate the home I left...but going back now would show I was a coward. Less than a year out on my own, and running home to hopefully one day die peacefully in my bed an old man. Thankfully, the hammer I found is still with me, so it'll prove its use soon. I digress however, hopefully I won't need to update this journal for a while. I'll write someday when something truly ground-breaking happens!

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Journal Entry #5

 

Hello, its been a long time since I've written in here. Last time I wrote in here was...five years ago. A lot has changed since my youthful start on my journey. I even celebrate my birthday every year by lighting a candle and making a wish like when I would with a cake. No such delights have happened for me in a long time. That claw that was brought down on my eye was the last bad scar I've had the misfortune of getting. I've kept it to simple scratches and a few bruises thanks to a set of armor I fashioned. I took one of my older shirts and after a run-in with some skeletons, I sewed the bones to the shirt tightly, and its held up well. Each day I'm growing to see as both a blessing and a curse. The constant reminder of how powerless I am compared to the innumerable ranks of the undead slowly washing over my thoughts every once in a while. I even thought of giving up once. Like that priest, I took the sword I began my travels with and positioned it at my gut. Yet I couldn't bring myself to end it all, thinking of my baby sister growing up without her brother, I couldn't bear her never meeting me as I've gotten stronger. I want to live to show her a good world, a beautiful world, a free world. That pond that I looked into when I first began my travels has been dwelling on my mind recently. I looked into a mirror in an old farm house not too long ago and noticed part of my hair was greying. Perhaps it's showing my maturity at such a young age? Or maybe my fright from long ago has finally surfaced itself in my appearance to remind me what I was. In either case, I could only imagine what else will happen to me in my travels. Safe places have come and gone like the small breezes that come in every few months. From a book I discovered intact, I read about how the breeze was once called the wind, and it blew day and night, providing a cooling sensation to everyone it danced around. Now it only swirled the smells of decay along, reminding me of the looming threats around me.

 

It's amazing what books can teach you to be honest. I've discovered several in an abandoned building not but a month ago. From the looks of it, it once held hundreds more, but they, like the rest of the world decayed and withered til all that was left was emptiness and dust. I usually aim for the full books, but one that looked like it was only half of one caught my eye when I was scuttling about. Upon the page that it was opened to, it showed a stream of multiple colors all lines up in a row, creating such a beautiful pattern that looked to be smiling at me. I picked it up and to my surprise, it was a book for children, telling stories to brighten their dreams when they slept. Could such things truly only be for children? With such fleeting happiness in the world, it comes as a surprise to me that such literature wasn't read by adults to make them smile as well. I read the small paragraph below it and it read as thus. "Yet the rainbow appeared like it always did, at the end of the rain. Smiling for all the happy people to see, coloring the gloom that once shaded their hearts into a prism of delight and sunshine..." A tear fell from my eye when I read it aloud to myself. Could such a thing happen again..? Could that beacon of happiness part the clouds and darkness with the shining of the sun? I suppose only time will tell...until we meet again.

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*The text is rough and seems extensively different from the other journal entries. It seems like someone completely different has written in the journal*

 

Journal Entry #6

 

I......hate........them......

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Journal Entry #7

 

To those that would read this, it has been three years since my last entry. I've been learning to write with my left hand in the long time I've remained silent. Two years ago was the day that, without a doubt has changed my life forever. That day began like many others, the time I woke up the same as I tried to keep it. It was not until that evening that things took a turn for the worst. I came upon a small town, from what the lay out seemed to show. The first full town set up that I think I'd ever seen, and it shocked me at how big it was. There was nearly three dozen buildings which all seemed to be for housing alone. I think there might have been other buildings judging from the debris, but these were the ones standing, and they made me think, perhaps there was someone inside! I rushed for the first door I could get my hands on, my damned intuition simply walking out the door in the hopes that I'd see the first living person in almost ten years. The sight behind that door will never leave me for as long as I live. Hundreds of zombies pushed into a close quarters. And this wasn't the only house of them. Every single house filled to the brim with them. They began rushing out at me, clawing, biting, knawing, ripping, tearing, and simply trying to destroy me. I had been defeated. It was over. Nothing I could do would save me. That's what I thought.

 

But no. It wasn't the case, and it never will be. I tore my way out, and knew I could survive if I tried. I pulled myself free from them, one adamantly gripping my arm with its jagged rotten teeth, digging into my flesh. My first thought was, would it cause a disease and cause me to become one of them? I didn't want to learn the hard way, so I took the only measure that would allow me to live another day. I grabbed my sword, and lost my arm. No...lost would mean I gave up, no, I gave my arm for my survival. I gave my arm for the future of the world. The blood from my arm, and the arm itself drew their attention. I'd never seen anything like it. As soon as I got far enough away, I did the quickest fire set up I could with one arm, and placed the blaze under the remainder of the open skin which was still dripping. That burning sensation will be something I'll never forget. The feeling of pain and anguish, the feeling of sorrow and loneliness, and the feeling of anger and revenge. However, it took me a year or so to fully recover. The physical trauma was one thing, but the mental trauma, that was a world in and of itself. For two years I trained myself to do everything with my left arm, fighting, writing, putting on my clothing, washing, everything was difficult.

 

Needless to say, my effort has finally paid off. I have learned to write again with my left arm, and I'm happy to say, my fighting has actually...gotten better. Granted the young boy who tried to learn how to shoot a bow will never be able to do so, he will live on in my memory as the boy I once was, a carefree, honest, and hot-blooded young man, scared to even walk out my front door. In closing for now, I can only say one thing. I no longer hate them. I pity them and wonder...if I could find the cause for all of this...would it release their souls from permanent damnation in everlasting life..? Until my next writing, don't lose heart.

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Journal Entry #8

 

I guess I couldn't keep myself away from this journal for too long now that my adventures have begun to get more and more eventful, what with my arm being lost. I've been contemplating things more and more, and it's come to my attention something I never knew before. I once heard someone say, "In a mad world, only the mad are sane," yet I feel this is slowly proving false. A mad world is only mad because those within it have nowhere to turn except for madness. It's simply an easy exit out of a life of effort and the hope of redemption for all. It's such a selfish thing in my opinion. If I were ever driven to madness, I wish for the person who finds my journal, and for that matter me, to release me from my restraints with a sound beating. Every now and again it is truly necessary. And when my blood falls from my head in light of me regaining myself, I'll remind myself of something. Blood is simply red sweat. It is something that we all shed from time to time, especially in this world where your blood will stain many a thing, and that's if you're lucky enough to survive as I have for this long. 

 

The more often I'm left with my thoughts, the more philosophical I get myself feeling. It's not entirely a bad thing, but if I ever met a person and began speaking as such, I'd look like quite the ass. In such a world, your philosophies are more often than not, something you should keep to yourself. Unless someone comes out and asks you, it would be best to hold your tongue in hopes you don't lose a potential ally. In this world, that's the most important thing, allies. Knowing you can trust someone and putting your faith into them, hoping that they have your back on things, and when it comes to it in the end they do help, and perhaps save your easily squandered life. 

 

I suppose that's my view in the least. I don't have many people to compare it to, since the last person I saw was my little baby sister as she fell back asleep. I slowly miss her more everyday...she'd be growing up so fast by now...no longer a babe, and growing into a lovely young lady. If she was anything like my mother, she'd grow to be a fine woman for anyone. I will never think her to have turned into one of the creatures of the darkness. Such a child of pure innocence...she is probably one of the few reasons I'm still able to move my legs everyday. One day, I know we'll meet again. I look forward to that day, and always will. Even if it doesn't occur til my death day when I see her angelic face smiling at me in my dying eyes, I'll wait for it. I love you little Elaine. Your big brother will give you the world you deserve...I promise....

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Journal Entry #9

 

I have never been more afraid in my life. That's all that went through my head the other day. Last time I wrote, I was insight of what looked like the outer wall of some sort of bastille. The only thing that was really left of it, to be honest. But needless to say, I made my way there in hopes to find a place where I could squeeze myself in for the night without being smelt out. I'll just say this now, I didn't stay there for long. The moment I got around the wall, the sight I saw was...beyond words at the time. For the first time since my journey began, I saw one of the greatest terrors this world has to offer...I only heard its name once as a child, and I thought it was just something to scare children. Not that it was hard to do with knowing any day some undead creature might find a way into your home. I digress however, as I was saying. As a child, I was told of a creature that walks the world as a figure swaddled in shadow, yet standing taller than any building you'd find standing today. The Nightwalker it was called. I didn't believe in its existence until the other day. Now, I have no right to say what someone tells me will be real or make-believe.

 

I froze in place the moment I met eyes with it, until I saw it look back at me, I didn't think it was real. But no feeling I've ever felt before could match that horror, the moment its empty eyes greeted mine, as if to look at me like the insect that I was to it. It nonetheless continued to stare at me for what felt like hours, until it turned away and began to walk in the opposite direction I was headed. I don't know how many blessings I counted for that, but I don't know if it was enough. I felt utter hopelessness while looking into those eyes...yet...I saw something else...I saw potential. For what that creature is, in the future if I get stronger...I might be able to challenge it. Not alone, I doubt anyone could face such a beast on their own. But, one day, perhaps it can be attacked and defeated...this of course is vastly farfetched at the moment, and would never be something I could accomplish. Least not now. Perhaps if I could find some sort of information on it, I could learn what it is...what the potential weakness it might possess is...until next time, search for an answer....

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Journal Entry #10

 

The idea came to me a few months ago, but I decided to wait before recording it in the journal to think things through. I simply looked to the day I saw the Nightwalker in its terrible visage. It came to me like fire to a match, in a quick flash. Around the bastille that I was examining, was a broken down wall. This wall couldn't have been more than about two or so meters thick. A creature such as the Nightwalker could break through that as if it was glass. Then the idea came to me. "A city, no, a civilization surrounded by walls." That's what I said to myself. I felt brilliant saying it. It wouldn't be simple exactly, but with a little designing I think it could be something to think about if I can find enough people. The main issue would be finding a place devoid enough of the undead to begin the construction of it. It would no doubt need several people killing droves of them while others crafted the walls. 

 

My major thought for this, however, wasn't just the idea itself. It came with a necessity. "The walls would need to be, not only thick, but so tall...not even the Nightwalker could look over it. No, a Nightwalker standing atop another. Even taller than that. Atleast 100 meters." The idea behind it just slowly catching fire. Though the silly thought that there could be more than one of such a creature is absurd. Nevertheless, such a wall would need to be inpenetrable. As for the civilization, perhaps for now, it should be left as an idea. Until the day comes where I meet at least 'one' person, I can't even think it would be possible. Needless to say, I'm slowly growing more and more hopeful. There's something about hope that...when it flickers on...it refuses to die down, and slowly starts to burn hotter and hotter. Until next time, stay positive my friend.

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Journal Entry #11

 

My birthday was yesterday, and for once I felt happy about it. The thought of aging scared me when I was younger, growing old alone in the wilderness...something about that thought drove me to tears one night early on. This year, I lite a javalin on fire and threw it as hard as I could, and to some humor, I impaled a zombie that was shambling by. It was the first time in a long while that I even felt like laughter felt right. It's been years since I laughed, or smiled much for that matter. Only blood, sweat, and tears come from my body it seems...at least that was my assumption. I realize this is only a short entry, but this felt very important to me. Never forget about laughter Ian. Never forget how much it can heal.

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Journal Entry #12

 

Something amazing has happened. Though I shouldn't say what happened is amazing in retrospect, it can for the time be called something quite amazing. I recently found the body of a freshly killed humanoid that...wasn't undead. And the wound on it showed that this was recent. It looks nothing like any humanoid I've ever seen before, somewhat brutish, if that makes sense. The only downside is that, I have no tracking skills whatsoever and I'll never truly be able to find where this man came from. It saddens me knowing this, which is why now, I take away the feeling of amazing from the situation. The excitement of finding a dead man shouldn't cause me such a rise and then a feeling of utter regret, but I should also not think too hard on it. Mayhaps he was travelling for a long time himself, perhaps not. 

 

I won't know unless I try though...right? I'll go in another direction based on the body's placement. To make sure that even if some rogue zombies come by and consume the corpse, I'll leave some sort of marker near it to show where it is for me. I'll travel a week from that spot and hope to find a town of some sort. Even a gathering of one or two people would be helpful. It would be the first living people I've seen in eleven years, and that'd be miraculous for me. These trips will take about a year, depending on how quickly I move, and I can rule out atleast the direction I came from. So for now, I'll head in the leftward direction and hope for the best. May ye rest in peace, unspoken friend.

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Journal Entry #13

 

The body was taken care of in the end. Not long after I wrote my decision, I decided instead of leaving the body out to rot, I'd give him a proper burial. It's the least I could do, being a fellow humanoid. I took the walking stick that he carried and wrapped a piece of cloth around one end, making it look like a flag. Showing that here, lies a man who will not become one of those horrible creatures. Not that, at the end of the day, my pity for them subsides. As I said a long time ago, I pity them now more than I ever thought I would. These creatures, forced to live eternal lives and walk a scorned earth in search of some sort of sustanence which can never be sated...something about saying that to myself several times makes me truly wish they could be helped. At least in the future. Perhaps the idea for the civilization might not be a bad idea afterall. If I could get some grand thinkers under a banner, we could try and find some sort of a cure for this ailment of undeath. 

 

On one of the paths I took from the corpse, I actually saw some sort of life for the first time since I left. Not in the form of humanoids mind you. A little bird fell from a nest, onto my lap as I sat to rest for a time. It was a lucky little thing, if I hadn't been there, it would've easily died...I'm glad I took that path when I did. I helped the little creature back into its nest and the mother seemed happy, quickly wrapping a wing around it to shield it from me. It was the closest thing to a thank you a bird can give I suppose. For a short moment I thought...perhaps I could eat something delicious for the first time in a long while...a bird like that could probably satiate my appetite for a day or two if I was lucky. But then I saw the baby bird again. It reminded me of my sister Elaine, and how if I took this creature's mother away, I'd be tearing it apart and leaving it to die...this time, I'll let my hunger slide. I felt such a feeling from it, I couldn't describe it to you. It almost felt like love in its own way. Love for the bird and its mother, or perhaps love that I was able to find another lving thing for the first time in a long while...nonetheless, I will see you soon enough my friend.

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Journal Entry #14

 

I saw it in the distance and I broke down in tears of sheer joy. In the twelve years of my voyage...I found life besides mine. It's still a few days away from me no doubt...but I can hardly contain myself. Humanoids...I could finally meet someone to make this world into a better place. I'll keep things short for now, as I'll be leaving soon to try and reach the smoke that looks like it's coming from a chimney. Until I see you agan...always keep up hope.

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Journal Entry #15

The smoke...did indeed come from a chimney...it was burning the corpses of the undead and these were being supplied by an elderly old woman who took me in for two days. She told me, "You so remind me of my husband...he died years ago, but his face was as sullen as yours, yet it contained the hope that rests in your eyes." It made me smile, a rarity from me it seems. But she gave me surprisingly good food for what I expected to be a barren area. Of course my questions were at no bounds. I asked everything from how she was able to keep in good health, to how she was able to keep the undead at bay, and of course how in the world she was able to kill so many. She just laughed and showed me something on her table. It was a series of small pieces of metal that clicked when she touched a part. She called them 'traps'. They had apparently been used to catch and hunt animals in the past. It seemed like a silly thing that a beast could be taken down by a few springs and a pressure plate, but when you apply that to mindless undead it's surprisingly the same thing. For the time I was there she gave me a basic layout of how certain types of traps work and how to design your own devices. It inspired me in the strangest way...I never thought with my single arm I could make things so complex...

 

These days were too short and the woman, whose name I learned was Priscilla, loved every moment I spent with her. She hasn't had company in too long and it truly made her happy. She told me she stopped keeping track of her age years ago, but I believe I could tell she was getting along in years. Probably not as old as the elders I had met as a child, but getting to that point. Most of her hair was grey and she seemed to be getting more tired as the day went on. When I finally said I had to leave she came over to me and pressed her lips up against mine, telling me to be safe and remember to keep the hope in my eyes. I don't think I'll ever forget her. Her spirit and her intuitive mind...they're something I'll wish to keep in my heart. Good bye for now.

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Journal Entry #16

 

I've recently come into a massive marsh that I cannot determine the end of. This is the first time I've seen so much water and foliage in my life, yet it looks rotten and poisonous. I dare not drink the water. At certain spots in this massive bog there are natural fires blazing from some sort of fuel beneath the ground. Perhaps some sort of petrolium or oil. I recall my family using such things when we kept our fire dull in the case of wandering undead and we'd use small petrolium powered lamps that could be adjusted to a brightness suitable for the situation. We would hide in a crevice beneath the flooring in the basement. It was clever really. We had a string that was threaded through a small rug that we would pull after we closed the door and it would pull over the door to keep suspicions off of the spot. I recall it helping once, though the area I lived in was fairly barren of any undead. 

 

This festering swamp reminds me about my love for sweet scents. On a rare occasion my mother would take out a jar that had a special preserved sweet called Honey that you could spread on biscuits and scones. She would give me a little dab on my tongue and not only did it taste good, but the scent was intoxicating. Such comforts are few now with everything being destroyed or rotting away. I simply wish to find my way out of this maze of a place soon. Some of the things I've seen in this marsh are strange though. Stones that spread like small tubes attached to rocks, patterns of stars on these rocks, and much of the land I walk upon looks like it was once sand. I had entered into this place from a massive slope that I was hesitant on entering but I suppose it was worth it. This place is indeed mystical to behold. The one thing that genuinely bothers me is...what I see in the water. Sometimes I see nothing, and sometimes I see corpses preserved as if they were still breathing underwater. And there are these creatures that look half dead inside that move about in such a strange way. No hands or feet, they have little flaps of some sort that move slowly and propel them...perhaps they are edible? I shan't try it anytime soon I will say that much...but perhaps even something out of an infested pool could have the disease cleansed out of it and then cooked to kill the rottenness. I never try it...I feel it would end badly. Perhaps I should stop thinking about it. I believe I shall lest I do drive myself to do so. Safe journey.

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Journal Entry #17

 

A month passed and I finally made it out of that bog. I don't think I want to get used to that smell again so I'll find another way to go if I come across something similar. I climbed a massive slope like the one I went down to get in here. The sight I beheld was...beyond words. I found a civilization in the place I entered that was unlike anything I had seen to this day. The architecture was vastly different from the kind I'm used to. From the buildings that remaind standing, I can see doors of some sort of paper material, floors of straw, and the houses of beautiful craftsmanship in carpentry. It's beautifully exotic. I have been finding many things in this place to be standing still, though barely. I don't know if this place is completely void of the undead, but a look around will not bring any harm to me I'm sure. This place I arrived in must have been some sort of town along a water line as I noticed on my climb upward that there were one or two halves of boats broken along the way down. Perhaps the marsh I crossed use to be a massive body of water..?

 

Traces of this place's culture seem to still be standing. Every now and again I will see entrances to some sort of place that is marked by clothe hanging from the top of the door. Some sort of symbols are embroidered onto the clothe though it is in a language I doubt I will ever get the chance to learn. I'm shocked some of these sheets of clothe are still able to hang after however long this curse upon the world has lasted. Mayhaps it spread from a specific origin point and this place was last to go? That's a possibility. In a little time I will write again to continue my findings of this strange new place I've found. For now I suppose I will call it the Land Beyond the Marsh. Until next time.

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Journal Entry #18

 

I have been wandering this Land Beyond the Marsh for some time now, and I must say, its culture must have been fascinating. To someone like myself so used to something entirely different, this is a beautiful change. One of the shocking things I've discovered is in a few of the buildings I've come across, there was this food stockpiled in places I happened to stumble upon. It seems to come in large bags and is small and white. Very small...an individual piece is a fifth the size of my pinkie fingernail. I tried eating some as it was and it simply dried my mouth and made me choke. Perhaps if I found some water and boiled it like my mother would do now and again to this rare food we would sometimes come across that the elders call noodles or pasta. If we ate it then, it tastes still a little bland but with a little seasoning of some sort it tastes wonderful. If I can find non-hazardous water I'll try to boil this and go from there.

 

One of the other things I've noticed is that those creatures I saw moving about in the marsh were a very important food here. I have seen a few signs and artwork pieces depicting similar looking things...maybe I was wrong to shrug them off, but I'll follow my gut on it for now. Some of the art I've come across has been eye-opening in more ways than one. The biggest piece and the one that made me cringe a little was a mural of creatures chasing what I could only guess were the people. The art style is very strange compared to the books I read as a child. But one of the creatures, and the biggest one at that, was a massive skeleton which you couldn't even see the entirety of. The upper half was hunched over and filled much of the piece. The eyes seemed strange and not entirely in place, but I simply could not stop looking at it. Were undead here even before the world was turned into Hell? Are these creatures harbingers of what was to come..? Does this creature still wander this land today and would I survive an encounter with it..? Or was this perhaps the people's interpretation of the Nightwalker? I'll look for an answer somehow...I'll try and find a way to decipher the language and learn what this culture has to offer. Be safe.

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