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About Literature / Hobbyist SargonMale/United States Groups :icondarthdictatusstudy: DarthDictatusStudy
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That people actually seem to like my work on occasion is a constant surprise.



Percolating coffee.

{Beginning, science team noting distortions in clouds and accounting it to local contaminants from pollution country, discussion of scientific rigor and particulars of mission}

{Investigate The Grove for disappearances and discrepancies}

{Approached by deer, have wonderful day, discussion of magics and other local superstitious nonsense}

{Day two}

{Encounter ill man rambling about Grove being evil}

{Do blood test work, display on max screen hologram for team mutual observance as microbial study begins}

{Blood is strained through with miniature machines, which violently consume the petri dish, blood, and a portion of the table in seconds after observation begins, culminating in a solid rod of them appearing as though from nowhere lancing through the scholar's eye}

{Body twitches for seconds, begins screaming, STOPS abruptly as machines consume internal organs behind optical orifice and skin, collapses over table as shapes warp the flesh and eventually rip it}

{Terrified team seal advanced medical away vehicle this is taking place in and activate cryogenic countermeasures to freeze anything mobile within, place contaminated man in stasis after questioning as well, attempt call to outside}

{Call fails; argument over whether to return straight to ship or attempt repairs, prevailed over by third argument, in which study leader decides this is the most likely candidate culpable for what they're here to investigate already ie abductions now likely murders, and to explore to expose the best way to deal with the machinations of whatever is motivating the machines}

{Dose of machines successfully surveyed after capture in wild in swarm form; revealed to be basic construction units responsible for assisted medical purposes and emergency armoring, incapable of either tactical damage or complex deconstruction-or-absorption despite very clearly shapeshifting and attacking colleague and likely the sample man}

{Further study reveals machines have innovated ways to fool the perception of the eye; although they appear black and gray like ash if not deliberately working, they array themselves in such a way as to emulate the properties of normal solid objects' color mirroring at will on the molecular level upwards, thus being able to change color and texture with their subatomic motions as they elect- in simpler terms, making themselves look green, or, with more effort, an array of greens and shapes in a thickness and feel that would feel to an unaware comerby like a palm tree's canopy, if they wished}

{Old hermit attempts to warn off science team, pleading that It is a passive thing, usually almost benign, preferring to study in peace. Reveals local legend that these particular machines have been here for only about three years and are profoundly touched by the influence of a deceased owner, one slaughtered during a raging battle despite such a bizarre affinity as to obfuscate them from their functions and turn them into war machines despite no tools or programs to explain the transitioning into claws and cannons; lacking the identity of that warrior, apparently consumed in death by the devices themselves in a moment of confusion spurred by that wrath, It fled to reconsolidate and try to find new purpose. She left it curiosity, inspiration, and imagination beyond its capabilities, almost guiding from beyond, but the machines, he definitely insists, are not possessed by the dead one.}

{If anything, they look for that ghost, or, at the least, to replace her, slowly and steadily acclimating to each climate and ecosystem reached and emulating them. She hesitated, and died, when startled by a lover; It avoids hesitation, connection, and frantic action entirely. Its hunger is filled more slowly, patiently, lovingly, watching, becoming, integrating.}

{Confronted on machines killing colleague; hermit is surprised, but not shocked. It has learned to prefer privacy. You have decided It is a problem that will have to be dealt with. Learning more about It would hinder Its efforts to do the same.}

{Leave It alone.}

{Point weapons at the old fellow, a long black tear slowly dripping from his eye. "So be It"}

{Brutal deaths, the Grove alive with limbs and blades and hooks as trees and animals alike turn into strange and terrible shifting constructs and abominations as the security team with the scientists try vainly, and extremely briefly, to contain the situation}

{Survivors make it back aboard, begin preparations to depart without clearance, communications still down. "It waits patiently to learn" Dead from the very start, thousands of the machines in their lungs the moment they touched atmosphere, waiting, patiently, observing. Testing their reactions to active stimuli and antagonism. Memorizing the motions and movements to utilize their armor and weapons. Finally, as they realize all too late, taking in how to successfully pilot a ship.}

{The gaping cavities through their chests are there for only moments before the rest is subsumed, and a hand flips through the neophyte's guide to space travel and communication protocol installed in the dash. "Communications are malfunctioning; request permission to leave for repairs and signal boosting equipment; may be ghosting signals"}

{The entire Grove, one massive gray goo of gelatinous seeming machinery when not separated into billions of tiny intrinsic tasks to pretend at being a full ecosystem of flora and fauna, separates into five identical starships with concentration and flies away, in just close enough tandem to keep up the excuse given.}

{Ambassadorial foray the next month over after  failure to return reveals a previously non-existent canyon four miles broad and almost two and a half deep where the Grove used to be, while a starport experiences inquisitorial inspection after bizarre events stalled communications and shipments}

{Machines trickle slowly into place. "Sorry to have to keep you, I had to put my face on and be presentable," to the hologram...}
Horror movie scraps
Maybe one day I'll actually bother to write all that out, but for now, meh. 

Pg 1
Driven to mindless panic by the projection of terror throughout the Temple she'd hidden in for time immemorial, H'astra bee-lined out of the room and out of the window and out through the desert without thinking, running through holes and cracks too small for even Palasvind (the Land Winds) to notice. Despite her size and exhaustion, she made it to a village before the dawn of the second day through the direct down-the-mountain route caravans attempted, and kept fleeing, too afraid to even scream.

In the village it was dark and the people were asleep- all but one. The teen wandered to her place and sat on the well stones at the edge of town. She was alone, her hair cut short, her blind eyes closed, and a small violin like instrument in her lap. She took a deep breath as she just basked in the moonlight as she took a deep breath. She had her shawl draped over her head. She tilted her head back as the drape slipped back and behind her as she took a deep breath and let out a small hum.

It was always most peaceful when all three moons were out and the desert night had cooled. The sad young woman certainly wasn't expecting any company, as shy a creature as she was. Whereas the diminished, exhausted lady of flame didn't so much as see the human's ankle until she'd run into it, and curled up with a moan low even for her deep-and-tiny voice.


:iconsakuraluvsuall: owns the as-yet-not-named-in-story-here Rahat, or the teenager human over here. -points up- You'll see her face soon enough.
H'astra is mine.

The world is coowned.

For more information on the artist responsible and , please see the original upload on :iconlesieur: , the alternate account, or at their own page- .

Most of this odd little comic will show on Lesieur first. 
If you like it or don't like it, please do say, we encourage. =u Although in the former gallery at that one and the latter here. 
Not that I expect most anyone will take notice or care, a few old dears aside. But this is the ugly mug. :U If you're petrified, I know it's working, and that's why those crickets are chirping. 

Also, Grey Wardens, because DA OBSESSION NEVER REALLY DIES

  • Listening to: Attack on Titan
  • Reading: Dragon Age comics
  • Watching: cat sleep
  • Playing: VID'JA GAIMES
  • Eating: pens
  • Drinking: No, sir!


DarthVengeance0325's Profile Picture
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
Hear me, O ye listener,
And know this to be true-
My pleasure comes from listening
To each and all of you.

"The day my words mean something is the day my words have meaning."

Current Residence: San Antonio, Texas, at the moment
Print preference: Large, well done.
Favourite genre of music: Classic Rock/Progressive Metal/Instrumental
Favourite style of art: Sci-fi.
Operating System: Windows XP
Favourite cartoon character: Edward Elric
Personal Quote: "The best defense is a good offense"



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Camara-san Featured By Owner Nov 1, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy birthday! And please forgive me for my lack of activity
Camara-san Featured By Owner Nov 1, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy birthday, friend!
LeSieur Featured By Owner Nov 2, 2015
VariableNature Featured By Owner Nov 1, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday Darth!
LeSieur Featured By Owner Nov 2, 2015
Thankee. Been too long. I need to catchup sometime. How've you been, friend?
VariableNature Featured By Owner Nov 4, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Been doing alright. Vague attempts at writing outside of OCT's having really panned out. But since it's NaNoWriMo, I've kind of been inspired to do at least SOMETHING this month. I guess we'll see.

Hope things have been excellent with you!
LeSieur Featured By Owner Nov 9, 2015
Mm, mostly workdead. I need to head onto the Darth account and read you sometime, mate, it's been entirely too long.
Camara-san Featured By Owner Feb 17, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
LeSieur Featured By Owner Nov 2, 2015
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