Tag Archives: Armageddon

Shattered Grounds – Updated Concept

A long time ago I came up with what I tentatively call “Shattered Grounds”. It is post-apocalyptic fantasy setting, but unlike the trope (in which magic awakes after a nuclear war), it is an actual fantasy setting that experienced a doomsday.

The – as of yet unnamed – world was a normal fantasy world with dragons, wizards, orcs and humans. It also featured a vast underworld, similar to the Underdark from Dungeons & dragons. If anything, this underworld was much more extensive, with underground caverns hundreds of kilometers across.

One day, and without warning, large sections of the surface collapsed into that underworld. The continent-sized caverns caved in, causing huge valleys and lowlands, effectively lowering leaving continent-wide, kilometer-deep scars behind. The oceans of the world flowed into the now exposed underworld, flooding much of it; consequently, with much of the water gone, the surface world turned into a vast desert. Civilization was devastated and the world was plunged into chaos and savagery…

Shattered Grounds - Concept
Shattered Grounds – Concept

Should make for some awesome vistas…

So what’s happening in the world?

Continue reading “Shattered Grounds – Updated Concept” »

Life after People

By random chance I came across Life after People on local TV tonight – the 2h original version, not the series. While it is hardly perfect – Wikipedia lists some criticisms or omissions, and I can come up with several more – it is still an inspirational film and a good idea to watch if you’re into post-apocalyptic fiction / gaming.

Sci-Fi Teaser

Alex posted a science fiction teaser in what looks like it could be one of those Internet memes, except this one is of course for writers and would-be writers.

Since I am not a writer, not really anyway, and I don’t have any completed works to tease from, I decided to create a teaser from scratch. It is about a new setting I am working on and that I may explore in my NaNoWriMo novel instead of what I had originally intended. (It is really an extension of the same theme rather than something completely new, sometimes those ideas that pop up in my mind happen to complement each other rather than compete for attention.)

The atmosphere in the shelter was a mix of tense anticipation and quiet resignation. Some occupants stoically awaited their fate, others whimpered or cried. Luckily nobody had panicked – yet. I kept to myself, sitting on a chair staring at the heavy blast door, wondering what I would experience had I been on the other side.

The radio played music that was decades out of date. It sounded like an automatic transmission that had been designed decades ago during the height of the cold war. There had been no messages after the initial emergency broadcast. Somehow the absence of any human announcer was much spookier than news of the world’s destruction could possibly have been. At least it meant that there was still a radio station, somewhere out there, that had not yet been hit.

Max, the shelter’s owner, kept things organized. He talked to people, introduced himself to those he didn’t know – most of those in the shelter, including me. Max was an older man, at least fifty, and his graying hair and beard gave him a bit of a grandfatherly appearance. He smiled and talked in a calm voice. I don’t know how he managed to be so serene, but then again he was the one who had had the foresight to build a bomb shelter. Even a few hours ago people probably thought of him as “one of those survivalist nuts” and while I am sure he was as devastated as everybody else, a small part of him may have been gleeful that he had been right after all. A kind of Noah, except Max had not hesitated to rescue strangers.

“You doing alright,” a woman to my left asked. I turned around startled. I had been so lost in my thoughts that I had not even noticed that she had pulled up a chair and sat down. She, too, looked straight at the blast door as I had done, imitating me. I studied her for a moment. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin. Pretty.

I looked back at the door.

“All things considered.” It sounded not quite as positive as I had hoped.

For a moment neither of us spoke.

“Listen,” she broke the silence. “I am helping Max by making a list of everybody here, so we know who’s who, what jobs they have, and any medical conditions we should know about. Would you please tell me about yourself?”

I couldn’t help but smile because of the unexpected attention. Under other circumstances…

“Sure. Name’s John Sanders. I… don’t have a job right now.” There seemed to be no reason to tell her about my recent legal troubles. It didn’t concern anybody in the shelter, and quite honestly, how could a little theft matter now?

“But what is your training? Maybe we must rely on your skills at some point.”

“I see.” I hadn’t thought her question through. There was too much on my mind. “I am a programmer. Not much help after the EMP fries every bit of electronics out there, I am afraid. Had first aid training, but that was a long, long time ago.”

I turned again, this time to find her looking at me. Yes, she was beautiful.

“I have two hands,” I shrugged. “Tell me how I can help, and I will. I can carry things, cook without poisoning us, and clean the bathroom. Whatever.”

She made some notes on her clipboard while I spoke.

“Thanks,” she said and stood up.

“Could I ask you something?”

“Yes?”

“What is your name?”

“Artemis.”

I didn’t have a chance to follow up on that. The radio stopped playing that very moment. Then the lights went out, except for the reddish emergency lighting.

Two minutes later a pattern of tiny cracks in the walls began to glow a brilliant blue.

I am not sure I am eligible to join the evil writers’ club just yet but were I a writer, that is something I’d strive for.

We get better at what we do with lots of practice so feedback is, as always, appreciated – this explicitly includes corrections on spelling and grammar, as I am not a native English speaker.

How The Gods Destroyed The World – First Draft

Countless ages ago, Arnâron was a paradise protected by the benevolence of the eight gods: It was called Dukaydor in those days, the land of water, because water was plentiful everywhere: Rivers sprang from the mountains and flowed into the vast oceans, which covered most of the world with water. The water even fell from the sky, and so Dukaydor was a green and pleasant land. Trees, flowers and crops grew everywhere. Great numbers of beautiful animals roamed the land, the sea, and even the skies, but none of them was dangerous. No man and no woman had to suffer hunger, or thirst. The people lived in happiness and security. They built great cities, and created art and the sciences. They explored the entire world, and ruled over it without challenge. There was no limit to what they could do.

However, with their great power came pride, and with pride came sinfulness. They discarded the old religions and considered themselves gods. Moral decay and decadence followed. Eventually, the eight gods decided to punish the people. They tasked Turyon, the dark god, with this.

Turyon sent two of his servants to Dukaydor. Their names were Death and Destruction, and they were aptly named.

They appeared out of no-where in the sky, great, silvery disks that began to illuminate the night. The oceans began to move, and flooded the coasts. Volcanoes erupted, and the ground trembled. Many of the great cities were destroyed, others abandoned as their citizens fled in panic.

Scared for their life, the people decided to beg the gods for mercy. But it was not in their hearts; it was a cold and calculated act. Thus Inyanu, the lady of the light, who had provided warmth and daylight since the beginning of time, lashed out at Dukaydor as well. Where she touched the world, oceans boiled and the land burned. The blood of the dead dyed the ground in a crimson red.

The people threw themselves to the ground and prayed to the eight gods to show compassion and mercy, and they weeped in desperation. The gods saw this and gave mankind a second chance. Their fury subsided, and they spared the lives of those who had survived. But now Dukaydor had become Arnâron, the home of the red sand, a bleak, barren world, that would forever remind the people to live in humility and reverence of the gods. Death and Destruction, Turyon’s servants, remained in the skies as well, ready to unleash further desolation as soon as the people would veer off the righteous path again.