The Sleeper

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Zettaijin
Evil Genius
Evil Genius
Posts: 667
Joined: Fri Apr 11, 2008 2:30 am
Gender: Male
Location: Himeji, Japan

The Sleeper

Post by Zettaijin »

(This creation came to me after listening to too much Black Sabbath and feeling a need to write something. It is an amalgam of various pop culture references and sci-fi tropes. It needs work, I confess, but I think he makes a nice addition to my growing collection of oddities walking the dread realms alongside the Confessor and living mirror image.)

I've crossed the ocean, turned every bend
I found the crossing near a golden rainbow's end
I've been through magic and through life's reality
I've lived a thousand years and it never bothered me


Supernaut by Black Sabbath


"'You're mad! You've been toiling away at this... this THING for the better part of a year and I think it's time you came back down to the ground!' said a woman. My eyes remember those words, my ears remember the clanking of metal parts clumsily being put together only. The fumes were only mildly worse than the dried up swaths of fleshy absurdity produced by countless wasted lives. Hives of wives belaboured by a hoard, herded by a horde. I know, I am, therefore I live.

I was to be the first man on the moon, the prodigal son who would rise from the ashes of the world and be reborn a messiah.

Come far, come on, come close, and remember to breathe deeply for there is much for you to learn and much more to earn. Now burn..."

My mind is still a haze when I think back to those times. I look back, but in truth I hope that the fog will never lift lest the unfortunate reef of my mistakes reveal itself waiting for me to crash upon it. His words were somehow carved into my memory. Carved isn't the right analogy - burned, seared right into my mind would be better, I think. I can't forget them: every single word painfully and permanently implanted. I forgot so much, and yet his cryptic prophecies and bizarre stories made up of seemingly random words - which I assure you would make sense to only the most demented patient of any asylum - remain as fresh and vivid as on the first day I heard them. This is why I say this was no mere man. Whatever magics he wielded I can only imagine, and I confess that it never looked as if magics were involved. His mere presence was enough to intoxicate me, plunging me into a strange but sometimes scary world. But then, what do I know of such matters?

I can't say I have many memories of those who followed us, for while memories of his words shine like a beacon in the pitch black night, the rest is as clear as a Mordentish daybreak. I briefly recall this one older woman, older than I at the time anyhow, who spent considerable time with him. A consort? Not impossible, I'd say, but again nothing was ever at it seemed with him and my mind being what it was under his influence...

So what did we do then? What didn't we do would be a more apt way to describe our behaviour. There is little doubt that some individuals partook in gregarious activities while others were inclined to pursue perhaps more sinister ends. In any case, please show clemency to any and all whom you find as none of us were quite right after a few days in his company.
In more precise terms we, well, lived as our instincts taught us. Whatever those instincts may have been. Gorging on food and women, screaming for days on end, or licking the dew of precious little blades of grass in a desolate meadow. In some cases, the world changed right before our eyes: seasons passed in instants, and the stars rained from a lacerated sky. One member, I think, who constantly fell asleep urged me to protect him from the be-tentacled, cold and clammy examinations of some imaginary dreaded squid men. The only proof of this happening, I'm afraid, lies within the pages of my half-mad musings written as one of his thralls. For all I know I may have imagined this said man and his colourful if not slightly perturbing stories.

You see now why I am so careful in presenting my case to you. I cannot be certain of what was truly real and not. Guilty consciences asking for forgiveness at the feet of the sleeping idol's curled toes? Escaped lunatics engaging in their most perverse fantasies with lightning struck tree trunks? Wisp-like grandmothers dancing naked in the waters like sagging nymphs forgotten by the primal Gods? Who knows how many of those were real and how many mere figments of an overly excited imagination.

But I do remember his eyes now: always closed, although he would try to open them from time to time, only succeeding in getting his eyelids half way up in the barely awoken gaze of a child in the morning. Child-like is right, he had an innocence about him when he tried to open his eyes and look at you. He was always showing that pleasant half smile of a content sleeper, too, behind his beard.

When he walked, it was in a slow, heavy way. His feet hit the ground with no sound or deafening cacophony and your nostrils were filled with an acrid smell or that of ripe berries...

Oh my... Ughh...

The noise! It was that... that... vessel... for lack of a better word. A strange contraption made of discarded metal; I'm certain I saw a pan or a cup smashed into the thing. It was rusty, dirty and he dragged it with him from leather straps attached haphazardly to his tattered robe. I don't believe he ever parted ways with it. Perhaps it has a link to his story? Remember how I said he kept talking of the metal parts being assembled into something and the woman's complaints?

I may have asked him about it, which prompted him to answer with the aforementioned story. I can't be certain, as always, of what truly transpired.

If you find my recollections innocuous, then surely you have never awoken to find yourself in a pool of blood as raving madmen are devouring the innards of an unfortunate soul and using you as their table. You've never seen the playful grandmothers drowning one of their own in the shallow waters with the sickening sounds of bones crushing and gasping breaths. And certainly, you've never wondered if the spider man was going to have you for diner tonight!

Innocuous, indeed!

-----

The Sleeper is a man whose body has been permanently tainted by the strange workings of Illithid science, the product of their experimentations with the mysterious world of the Nightmare Lands in an attempt to master swift, efficient transportation and easy access to subjects for their various dubious attempts at furthering their knowledge of the universe.

Born in the distant and polluted island domain of Nosos, Thomas, as he once was known, was but a child when his slightly delusional father proposed to send his only begotten son into space in hopes of sparing him from what he deemed to be a living Hell doomed to soon collapse under the weight of its collective foolishness. Being a man of science, he saw the moon in the perpetually smoggy sky as the one place untainted by the hands of man.

His wife was used to her husband's zealous proclamations of doom and left him be until she found him growing more and more involved in building what would prove to be the vessel in which his son would travel the stars. A gloriously insane piece of work pieced together from various junk and scrap metal along with complex clockwork and something akin to a very primitive fuel combustion engine. Its ramshackle appearance betrayed the profound insanity of its creator, a victim of Nosos' cutthroat world.

The device had more chances of exploding, taking with it the entire family home than of ever launching the man's son into space. And just how the boy would survive once in space somehow eluded the man well after the completion of his project.

In his mind, Thomas would bring a new hope along with the last vestiges of this supposedly civilized world. And so he made sure to include a few tomes which he found of some poignancy and/or wisdom, assuming that the civilizations on the moon might learn from the mistakes of their earthly cousins. Thomas then was a messiah to be, proud bearer of what little good this civilization had accomplished. Little did the man know that the Dark Powers had peered into his life and decided to grant him his wish.

Despite his wife's protests, he continued his mad work of art, completing it after well over a year of hard labour. In his final months, he had all but completely left his occupation as a researcher for an umbrella corporation under the Sceleris firm's control, something his employer eventually noticed. And one doesn't merely "stop working" for Malus Sceleris, especially not in those divisions where sensitive information on technology and science is to be found. So "representatives" were sent to the man's home in order to "check up" on the wayward employee. Of course, checking up meant sending hired muscle to ensure that he had not shifted his loyalties and if not dead or ill, then he most certainly would be after their visit.

Alas, they made the mistake of touching the boy wonder. Nothing fatal, a mere backhanded slap from a particularly large hand that rocked the boy hard enough to knock him back. One of the men went to pick up the fallen boy just as his father entered the room. Afraid of what they might do, the panicked father threw a wrench at the beastly fellow which did little to dissuade him, in fact, he drew a knife from his pocket in reaction to the attack, mumbling "Nowyergonnagitit" under his breath.

Alarmed by the noise, the boy's mother came in from an adjoining room to stand by the side of her panting husband. Unable to think and lacking time, the man threw the biggest thing he could find within his immediate vicinity at the goons, in this case his own wife. Sadly, the woman landed on the wrong gruff who stabbed her accidentally. As is often the case in these situations, the agent ended up losing his balance and flat on his back with the dying body of the woman bleeding all over his best "visiting outfit." Whether by chance or by "selective intervention" the man was able to bring his unconscious son to the space capsule as the goons disposed of the dead woman. Making sure to lock and secure his workroom behind him as best he could, Thomas' father began the process of launching the ship. And again, "the fates" smiled upon him by keeping the door from budging under the combined efforts of the now enraged men. Under the sounds of cursing, uncouth voices and cracking wood, the man hurriedly strapped his son, a boy of 2, to the patently unsafe vehicle and lit a rather ridiculous looking fuse.

The scene would be comical were it not for the fact that it was very real and excessively dangerous for the boy.

The vessel launched into space before the bewildered eyes of the three men. It's as if Thomas' own father, for a brief moment, doubted himself despite his past obsessiveness: a moment of clarity in an eternity of blindness? The deafening sound of the rocket launching overwhelmed everyone and alerted the neighbourhood. Alas, no one intervened either out of fear or callousness (as per the norm in the industrious metropolis), leaving the house to slowly burn as the ship's fuse also inconveniently came into contact with chemicals which promptly exploded and set fire to the abode. The whims of fate can be so cruel in the Demiplane.

Thomas' ship traversed the mists and smog of Nosos landing perhaps not on the moon but a similarly desolate and alien landscape - Bluetspur.

A passing duo of Illithid scientists found the capsule and decided to keep the boy as their own. Their own subject that is, as the duo were looking for a perfect specimen upon which to try out their newest theories: using the boy as a gateway into the fabled Nightmare Lands by subjecting his fragile young mind (now in a permanent state of semi-slumber) to constant nightmares and strange dreams.

It took a few years and multiple treatments and operations on the boy for the patient Illithids to achieve some manner of progress, but once they managed to attract the attention of the Nightmare Court, their attempt at creating a permanent link to the Nightmare Lands was seemingly well within reach. Of course, they had not expected the Nightmare Court to be slightly crossed at the idea of interlopers using their realm for their own purposes in such a shameless way. Somehow, Thomas not only remained trapped in the Nightmare Lands in the ensuing "conflict" but the mix of Illithid science and the nature of the Nightmare Lands themselves caused an unusual reaction within the boy. His mind began to absorb memories and emotions from victims of the Nightmare Court, swallowing experiences and ideas far beyond his still limited comprehension. His perceptions forever altered and his mind broken, his body "shut down" and remained in hibernation shielded within a cocoon fabricated from the very fabric of the Nightmare Lands.

Upon emerging, he was now an adult, or perhaps a strange man-child who ventured forth dazed and hopelessly confused. Everything felt so natural and alien at once, contradictions bombarding his brain, yet his eyes remained closed as he walked forever onward towards his destiny.

He found his ship, broken and useless upon the shores. His mind willed the ship back into existence. He "loved" it back into proper shape and sent himself back to the stars and once more crash landed into the earth, forever cursed to roam the land.

-----

Thomas, as the Sleeper, radiates strange psionic energies at all times which alter the perceptions of those within a 10 foot radius. Oddly enough, due to his connection to the primal matter of the Nightmare Lands his presence also allows for "reality" to be altered according to the whims of those minds he touched. In effect, unwillingly granting his "followers" a portion of his own power.

The experience is said to be highly addictive and stimulating, with some stating that no potion or illicit substance could match the potency of the Sleeper's presence. Furthermore, the Sleeper's words have unpredictable effects on the desires and behaviours of sentient minds. And due to the trickle down effect of his powers, conflicting minds can end up "melding" with one's desires flowing into another's.

As such, a particularly strong, cruel fantasy could overflow into the minds of others whose own moods were perhaps more peaceful.

The Sleeper speaks in verses, parables and nonsense which can only be heard by those he touched. His eyes are always closed, but if he opens them to gaze sleepily upon the face of a follower, the follower may be permanently affected by the Sleeper's presence and will retain the minor reality altering abilities along with being possibly permanently inflicted with altered psychological states. Fortunately, or unfortunately, such individuals are more likely to accidently end their own lives before causing too much harm to others. And with the Sleeper roaming in mostly unpopulated areas, it is rare that a "touched" individual will make it back into civilization before meeting his untimely end.

The Sleeper's spaceship should not be functional. The Dark Powers initially allowed for Thomas' father's madness to infuse the device with some power not unlike golems created out of obsession. However, if provoked, it will defend itself by sending sharp pieces of metal flying through the air. Whether the ship has its own sentience or is merely given sentience by proxy of being near the Sleeper is unknown and possibly irrelevant.

The Sleeper himself is not protected by his vessel. The later will not act to protect its owner for unknown reasons.

If destroyed, the ship will merely reform itself over time at some distant location and eventually will reappear before its owner.

The Sleeper is passive, completely and totally. He will not defend himself if attacked or provoked, but it is uncertain if he could be killed as his body is permanently fused to the essence of the Dream World. One would need to find a way to diffuse, disrupt the essence of the Dream World in Thomas along with the Illithid-made improvements.
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