Remember Dust to Deceit? Me neither! It was poorly written and wasn’t going anywhere… well it was, but not to a place or at a pace I was pleased with. Allow me to re-present Dust to Deceit, rewritten, reborn, and more consistent.
For those who read the original, there will be many changes... Jimmy... well, Jimmy! Also the plot is more coherent... I hope! Also, there's still Fakemon.
There will be audiobooks as I go... and of course, Fakemon information for those of you at home who want to play through the Kertonmel region as well.
Let’s get started.
Chapter List
None Yet!
Intro: The Prelude of Blood
It rained in blood. The pitter-patter of crimson droplets caked the earth. The world was empty save for the brown fields of desecrated grass and trees. All about him, Phillip Molson saw the snuffed out husks of dead life forms: humans, Pokémon, and plants… mangled and practically deflated like an emptied, shriveled balloon.
He wished he could scream, but when he opened his mouth, no sound came out. As he looked at his hands, he noticed nothing… blackness, a void that even the raining blood did not paint red. What was this madness?
As he noticed reality turn to madness, a voice pierced his mind, “find the missing!”
As he glanced about him in terror, the human shaped void known as Phillip saw a pitch black face encroach upon him. Its eyes glowed yellow as a bolt of lightning streaked across the darkness of a 'face.'
“The Storm of Souls,” it rambled, “it is inevitable.”
Phillip wanted to gasp; he wanted to scream; he wanted to kill himself. He in fact, tried all three, but as he tried to snake his arms about his neck, his fingers went right through it. He tried again, this time seeing if he could rip his heart right out… nothing. The frantic teen sighed, unable to produce sound, as he accepted his fate.
Another face floated by. This blackened shadow appeared ethereal and gave the youth chills, “we long for bodies!”
A third face appeared: this one was shrouded in white. As the rain landed, it tinted the fluff in a cake of red, “Find the bodies; find the gate.”
The one caked in lightning glided its way in front of Phillip’s ethereal body, it spoke again, this time void of any cryptic tones, “let me tell you, earth creature,” it began in a tone that seemed to spark with every word, “that you are not special or unique. You are but another living creature to be given our vision. I expect nothing to come of this, other than a fun excursion.”
One final face of evil formed. It smelled absolutely putrid. Toilets on their worst days didn’t smell that bad, as fumes of a sickly hazel emanated from its sides, “we rule this land!” it boasted, “the sky will fall at our command! Observe your moon.” As it spoke, the formless Phillip felt nauseous, despite having, apparently, no stomach or digestive capacity whatsoever.
Phillip hadn’t felt it until then, nor had he seen it. Amongst the clouds, a great force tugged and tore at every void filled fiber of his being. There, peaking through the clouds was the white eye in the sky itself. Small fragments of rock cracked from its surface.
“As a dream,” the white face began, “this chaos is tasty, but when it is our reality, we will never go hungry again. Your planet will go red with every last inch of blood... we will lick it dry.”
The ghostly face piped up, “We will not fail this time… and you will not remember this delicious nightmare! I am Spookoni, and this was a delicious dream!”
The moon was drawing closer and closer, as the demonic faces flew away, scattering at blazing speeds to avoid the point of lunar impact. One last one, this one glowing with a swirl of red and blue, spoke, “I await my return. Fear it!”
Before the moon could land, the fear stricken Phil felt a rush of frost and one of fire strike his ghostly form. “Freedom will be mine!” the colorful face said with exuberance.
With that, the face bore two sharp, the one on its left a crystalline blue, the other blazingly hot and orange. In one swift forward motion, it enveloped Phillip whole. As both frozen and scalding acids splashed down upon him, his slumber ended.
The next thing Phil remembered was waking up in his bed in a terrified sweat. As he looked at himself, his skin was real, his neck was solid, and as he whispered to himself, he could hear noise. He looked outside: the night sky was as clear as ever, and the waxing crescent moon shone through, orbiting Earth on its monthly journey around the planet.
Chilling words pierced his mind, ‘you will not remember this delicious nightmare!’ As Phil wracked his brain, it was proving mostly true. As he tried to remember his horrible nightmare, he couldn’t remember anything other than a terrifying chill and burn.
Perhaps, he figured, he was worried about his little sister, and the fact that she was leaving next week. Doctor Wilbur Ticodendron would be providing her with a Pokémon, a powerful little creature, and she would venture out into the vast world of their homeland of Kertonmel. A yawn came over Phillip as he went back to bed. Life would go on, normally as planned. Mundane, simple and repetitive… sometimes he wanted more, but most of the time, he couldn’t care less. Sleep took him back over within a couple of minutes. This time, demons did not pierce his mind.
A/N: Yes, Tichodendron DOES Equal Brenetmos. He is a tree named Dr. now... he's not a professor, oddly enough. Stay tuned!
For those who read the original, there will be many changes... Jimmy... well, Jimmy! Also the plot is more coherent... I hope! Also, there's still Fakemon.
There will be audiobooks as I go... and of course, Fakemon information for those of you at home who want to play through the Kertonmel region as well.
Let’s get started.
Chapter List
None Yet!
Intro: The Prelude of Blood
It rained in blood. The pitter-patter of crimson droplets caked the earth. The world was empty save for the brown fields of desecrated grass and trees. All about him, Phillip Molson saw the snuffed out husks of dead life forms: humans, Pokémon, and plants… mangled and practically deflated like an emptied, shriveled balloon.
He wished he could scream, but when he opened his mouth, no sound came out. As he looked at his hands, he noticed nothing… blackness, a void that even the raining blood did not paint red. What was this madness?
As he noticed reality turn to madness, a voice pierced his mind, “find the missing!”
As he glanced about him in terror, the human shaped void known as Phillip saw a pitch black face encroach upon him. Its eyes glowed yellow as a bolt of lightning streaked across the darkness of a 'face.'
“The Storm of Souls,” it rambled, “it is inevitable.”
Phillip wanted to gasp; he wanted to scream; he wanted to kill himself. He in fact, tried all three, but as he tried to snake his arms about his neck, his fingers went right through it. He tried again, this time seeing if he could rip his heart right out… nothing. The frantic teen sighed, unable to produce sound, as he accepted his fate.
Another face floated by. This blackened shadow appeared ethereal and gave the youth chills, “we long for bodies!”
A third face appeared: this one was shrouded in white. As the rain landed, it tinted the fluff in a cake of red, “Find the bodies; find the gate.”
The one caked in lightning glided its way in front of Phillip’s ethereal body, it spoke again, this time void of any cryptic tones, “let me tell you, earth creature,” it began in a tone that seemed to spark with every word, “that you are not special or unique. You are but another living creature to be given our vision. I expect nothing to come of this, other than a fun excursion.”
One final face of evil formed. It smelled absolutely putrid. Toilets on their worst days didn’t smell that bad, as fumes of a sickly hazel emanated from its sides, “we rule this land!” it boasted, “the sky will fall at our command! Observe your moon.” As it spoke, the formless Phillip felt nauseous, despite having, apparently, no stomach or digestive capacity whatsoever.
Phillip hadn’t felt it until then, nor had he seen it. Amongst the clouds, a great force tugged and tore at every void filled fiber of his being. There, peaking through the clouds was the white eye in the sky itself. Small fragments of rock cracked from its surface.
“As a dream,” the white face began, “this chaos is tasty, but when it is our reality, we will never go hungry again. Your planet will go red with every last inch of blood... we will lick it dry.”
The ghostly face piped up, “We will not fail this time… and you will not remember this delicious nightmare! I am Spookoni, and this was a delicious dream!”
The moon was drawing closer and closer, as the demonic faces flew away, scattering at blazing speeds to avoid the point of lunar impact. One last one, this one glowing with a swirl of red and blue, spoke, “I await my return. Fear it!”
Before the moon could land, the fear stricken Phil felt a rush of frost and one of fire strike his ghostly form. “Freedom will be mine!” the colorful face said with exuberance.
With that, the face bore two sharp, the one on its left a crystalline blue, the other blazingly hot and orange. In one swift forward motion, it enveloped Phillip whole. As both frozen and scalding acids splashed down upon him, his slumber ended.
The next thing Phil remembered was waking up in his bed in a terrified sweat. As he looked at himself, his skin was real, his neck was solid, and as he whispered to himself, he could hear noise. He looked outside: the night sky was as clear as ever, and the waxing crescent moon shone through, orbiting Earth on its monthly journey around the planet.
Chilling words pierced his mind, ‘you will not remember this delicious nightmare!’ As Phil wracked his brain, it was proving mostly true. As he tried to remember his horrible nightmare, he couldn’t remember anything other than a terrifying chill and burn.
Perhaps, he figured, he was worried about his little sister, and the fact that she was leaving next week. Doctor Wilbur Ticodendron would be providing her with a Pokémon, a powerful little creature, and she would venture out into the vast world of their homeland of Kertonmel. A yawn came over Phillip as he went back to bed. Life would go on, normally as planned. Mundane, simple and repetitive… sometimes he wanted more, but most of the time, he couldn’t care less. Sleep took him back over within a couple of minutes. This time, demons did not pierce his mind.
A/N: Yes, Tichodendron DOES Equal Brenetmos. He is a tree named Dr. now... he's not a professor, oddly enough. Stay tuned!