The Cyber-Sledge ran roughshod o’er the Northlands powered by mechanical wolves. Shrouded, Scarlett skilfully manoeuvred through the bare skeletal limbs of the trees. She sped upon the powdered snow which fell in icy bullets and clouded her ultra-violent goggles with condensation. This was a dead world and the One-God were on her trail.
Scarlett was favoured by the Goddess and had a bad taste in her mouth. She hated all god-speed for they had raped, ransacked and pillaged her nomadic tribe when they had camped to restock and bear vigil to the Ancient Ones. The spirit of wood, tree and stone called out for vengeance and as Scarlett was the last of her tribe it fell to her to balance the equilibrium in the name of the Earth Goddess.
Our Lady managed to elude most of her opposition, however one squad of troops transported in gas-guzzling jeeps and motorcycles were still hot on her heels. She decided the only way out of this was to head for the sacred heathen Moon-forest. It was there amongst its spiralling and unwinding pathways that Scarlett hoped she could shake off her pursuit. Hopefully, her keen senses and intuition would be able to divine the location of the mountain of madness. Where the spirits fly…
The monotheistic ones murdered indiscriminately: the heathen leaders of her tribe, the women-folk, even innocent children whom knew nothing of warfare. She felt an ineffable hatred; not just towards their hypocritical doctrines, but to their very creed. Scarlett felt an anger so deep it gestated within her, to the roots of her Warrior Soul.
Scarlett’s own brother who was upon the cusp of manhood; only fifteen winters old, cut down bravely in battle along with their father. Her Mother, a simple homesteader, but family proud was raped and strangled at the hands of an ugly, perverted hypocrite. Scarlett slew the foul beast in her wake. She had no time to cry for she was of the most feared warrior-branch of her tribe. At that moment she swore vengeance.
As she heard the screams of her people and readied her Cyber-sledge Scarlett made a pact with the Gods to reunify the heathen tribes and return her planet to the watchful guidance of the Ancient-Ones. She knew their barbarous names, even in this time of “now-reality,” would still answer the call.
As our heroine escaped the clutches of her now sworn enemies; a pack of one god donkeys followed her; the disgusting stench of their inhumane violence, leaving a rank taste in the air. To think she had once believed peoples of all faith could exist together.
Scarlett was fast and her purpose true. With the aid of her Cyber-sledge and her mechanical wolves (crafted skilfully by herself and grandfather) she easily outran them. They fired a few laser-bolts at her, but our lady eluded them easily. Skilfully turning around at speed and returning with fire from her own weaponry she wiped out six of the god-botherers. The other six were left outrun, cursing in the snow.
In actual fact; Scarlett knew that the pig-headed skirmish unit would find it nigh impossible to make it through the spiralling narrow pathways of the Moon-forest. However much the goons of monotheism tried to follow her; once confronted by the ethereal depths of its strange eldritch environment they would be driven mad. Seeing their true-selves in the psychic-mirror; the only thing that awaited them was a cataclysmic, foreboding, arboreal nightmare. For the forest as all the wildest places of the Earth was sacred and gifted by the Earth Mother to the Tribes of the Heathen.
Our heroine knew exactly the sterility of the phallic faith of their one-god; the stagnant father of lies whom they but paid lip-service to. It would be impossible for the invisible man who lived in the sky and who watched them every minute of every day to see if they were naughty or nice to protect them when confronted by the all-encompassing energies of the Goddess. The blinding light of truth that rises from behind the Sun only served to accentuate the stench of their impotence. Their placations under the eye of the Ancient-Ones would be null and void. She sped on betwixt the arms of the whispering trees which sweetly whispered her name.
Scarlett cruised on blissfully, contenting herself with the fact that she had made the first steps towards making recompense for the crimes the monotheistic ones had brought against her tribe. However, her moment of happiness was shrouded in sadness. It was a minor victory, small consolation when she thought of the screams of her people, the women and children. Friends, brother and sisters slaughtered before her very eyes. She had made the first strike towards enacting a wraithful fury against their sermon of hypocrisy.


Scarlett arrived at the foundations: the base, the mountain of the Ancient Ones. She deactivated her sled and mechanical wolves; typing a code into the armoury on her utility vid-bracelet. The wolves and sled folded up neatly and she placed the reconvened miniatures into her off-world backpack. Scarlett didn’t want to leave any traces, it was imperative that she did not leave a scent for her pursuers.
Scarlett took the Laser-Gun from her backpack and hooked it onto her utility belt so that it could recharge. She put ice-claws on her boots and got into character, preparing for the long climb. The mountain shook her to the core.
Only the chosen few of her tribe knew that the mountain was in fact a Watchtower of Space. A place of vigil enabling her to plan, regroup and figure out how to avenge her tribe. She was afraid, of course she was, but the Gods must be appeased and her grievance against the sterility of the monotheistic ones avenged. Scarlett carved steps into the mountain with her ice-pick; slowly but assuredly making her way to the summit of the foreboding Watchtower.
She allowed herself to be shaken by the cold, stark megalithic ascent. The mountain became one with her, as she traversed its ancient form: its structure; containing thousands of pockets, caves, crevices, cracks and hollows.
Occasionally our heroine had to shelter from the snowy avalanches that were caused by vibrations from her hacking ascent. An intuitive passage-rite upon the summit; the claws on her snow-boots dug in assuredly as she made her way up. After what seemed like an insurmountable time, the voices started. Ouroboros algorithms of arcane interrogation infected her senses. She climbed on, discarding the phantasm’s that tested her worth. Instead, she concentrated upon the bejewelled epiphanies rising righteously from the miasma. Scarlett utilized her self-reliance to connect with the Ancient-Ones: her inner-voice placating and petitioning them. She affirmed her existence and that she alone, was of their creed and worthy of the quest.
Scarlett destroyed all doubt; all thoughts of failure woe and fatigue would have to be dealt with at a later time. She reached out with psychic-hands to her astral soul and her undying allegiance to the elders of her people. She believed with an unconquerable sense of self in the righteousness of her purpose and the balance of the cosmic order. Our heroine knew in every fibre of her being that if her aim was true; the Gods of the Heathen would answer her call and she could readdress the balance.



Scarlett reawakened far from here at the summit of the mountain of madness. Pow! She reaffirmed her existence. It was dusk and the mist made her cough: scanning the scene, looking for clarity in the misty gloom.
Our heroine set about upon the summit preparing the sacred space. Surveying and working out what was immediate to her, and that which she could utilize. She cleared an area that she felt could be useful as a nebula to connect with trans-dimensional entities.
It was cold and dead upon the mountain. An icy wind blew through her whole body chilling her numb from head to toe. Carrying thirteen rocks, Scarlett made a roughshod Star of Manifestation.
With the dead limb of a tree she carved spidery tentacles in the dust. Leading from each of the stones she diligently mapped and printed the circuits of the cosmos. She worked upon intuition alone. The inwardly-pointed gloom of the misty desolate mountain parted the silent veil of space and time as she strived and thrived upon the thirteen-pointed star. It represented the tribes of the Earth Goddess and the astral space-capsule which she would utilize on her shamanic journey.
Whilst she worked upon her mandala; Scarlett, forgot all of her sadness and without lust of result in the magical operation, let herself be swept up into ufo-logical flights of fancy. Thoughts that transported her; primal energies flowed through her and were guided by the adrenaline rush of the wonders of the universe. Our heroine had not eaten for days and was surviving upon her will alone.
Once the ley-lines of her Star had been scraped and plotted into the dust. The charging embrace of night fell gleaming through twinkling skies which somehow seemed to glitter and smile knowingly towards her righteous purpose. Scarlett lit her Power-Torch. Taking her Chao-Bag she collected sharp pebbles and flat stones from the summits vast wasteland.
Gradually the Magical Star was taking shape. Thee ethereal power-zone had been created; it took the form of a beautifully intricate map of the Cosmos. Banishing with a deep otherworldly and somewhat guttural godly laughter Scarlett sat in the centre of the cosmos and began her vigil.
Slowly at first she began to connect her psyche to the Nothingness; the Great Void calling to her Warrior Soul upon the mountain. She sat deep within the cosmic triangle at its centre. Scarlett invoked with words of power the Ancient Gods of her people and the truth and beauty of creation.
The great Dragon; curled; entwined ouroboros around the Universe awoke to Scarlett’s call. The energies in a risen formation twisted in tessellated symmetries of psychic rope. Her Third Eye opened: the hot breath of the dragon. Her heart and lungs neatly pumping air, summoned strange atavisms from the primordial energies of the planet. Suddenly, she became aware of the vastness of the cosmic universe to which all heathen belong.
She would be their champion. Her ancestors spoke calling to her at the summit of the sacred Watchtower. Past lives resurged through her; slowly the leagues, psychic rope of her exploration connected to her corporeality. Star-ships of reanimation; symmetries manifested through the printed circuits earthed in the fecund soil of the Holy Mountain.
Her cosmic eye opened her whole being to the influence of trans-plutonic energies. Attempting to breathe; Scarlett could sense the vibrations of the Goddess. The hum of her aura tethered her to the polar-opposites of the Universe: the threads of psyche attached to her-self and craft tightened, she felt reunified. The whole power-zone of Scarlett and her space-capsule began to levitate. A few inches off the ground at first; our heroine initiated herself into the Great Void. Yet entirely substance passing into the infinite; the now fearless warrior reached out with all the fibre of her being to the celestial symmetries of the Cosmos.
Further…Further…Faster…Space-Attack…Aeons spiralling, twisting and tessellating outside the circles of Time. Then past consciousness as we know it; lingering in ancient forms of cosmic communication; Psychic syllables that utilize the call.
And now…For one fantastic lightning bolt moment; she shot through a wormhole in trans-dimensional space. Her whole body and Third Eye wide open. She was travelling without moving through inner-space as much as outer. Her whole being was reunified with the light of truth; which always outshines the light of the Sun. She experienced an ecstatic bliss that knew no boundaries upon all the planes at once. Freedom, knowledge, pleasure and power rushed through her name, her face, her spirit. Scarlett; scoping the eternal seam of silent memory; running roughshod o’er their one god, their phallic temples burned to ashes…
Finally the Thirteen-pointed star of manifestation. The tribes of the Earth Goddess chosen once again: communicating in visions, an eternal dreaming from the Children of Isis far beyond our ken. Inhabiting a Universe that shall rise from the Sun behind our Sun. Correlations of a life that matters… Only to be re-remembered in the righteous deeds of Xi-Warriors upon the edge of Time.


~ by EMPTY SUN on October 30, 2018.

One Response to “XI-WORLD”

  1. You make me look satisfied. Like I won.

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