[size=24:dbcdb9a983]I[/size:dbcdb9a983]t was Autumn, 1712.

The quarry that gave birth to the still foetal Industrial Revolution, sat in a man-made fog of steam, smoke and soot. The labourers hacking into the stone wall, now aided by the house-sized steam engine that punched and lapped at the ferric earth-milk. They wouldn’t know, but the continual rape and violation of the gorge that was once covered in greenery and nature’s bounty, drew them dangerously closer to something unnatural and terrible that dwelt in the earthen bowels.

Master Adrian Calder’s carriage bore him towards the iron foundry where his colleague, Abraham Darby, had first smelted iron using coke instead of man-made charcoal. The wheels rocked the nigh-regal carriage along the rubble strewn roadway. He adjusted his wig, tightening the waistcoat he usually wore for travelling, and evened the ruffles at his cuffs. The carriage creaked as it stopped. The driver stepping down as the horses whinnied.

[i:dbcdb9a983]“Master Calder?”[/i:dbcdb9a983]

Adrian looked up, his steely gaze made the speaker shiver.

[i:dbcdb9a983]“Yes? And you are?”[/i:dbcdb9a983]

[i:dbcdb9a983]“Bartleby. The chief engineer. Mr. Darby is waiting for you.”[/i:dbcdb9a983]

Adrian stepped from his carriage. The fineries he wore made him stick out like a sore thumb against the iron-stained heath. The once-green field was now muddy, the orange veins of oxidised iron running in little mud-channels.

[i:dbcdb9a983]“If you would care to follow me Mr. Calder.”[/i:dbcdb9a983] Bartleby beckoned the gentleman to follow him. Leading him across the least waterlogged stretch of ground. Adrian hissed audibly as his fine shoes were sucked and grasped at by the soaked soil.

[i:dbcdb9a983]“Blast! What sort of fellow dwells in this hellhole?”[/i:dbcdb9a983] He glared into Bartleby’s scalp as he was led to a small hut.

Inside the floor was at least dry. Wooden, like the rest of the simple structure, it thudded as the powerfully built gent made his entrance. Bartleby nodding at Darby before returning to his machine.

[i:dbcdb9a983]“At last Calder. It’s good to see you again. Your journey was pleasant I pray?”[/i:dbcdb9a983] Darby was Quaker. He smiled broadly, welcoming the gentleman who had helped fund the quarry’s development.

[i:dbcdb9a983]“It was tolerable. Now, what news do you have for me? The ironworks are working admirably? I trust the books are in order?”[/i:dbcdb9a983] He had a cold tone. One that made him appear unfeeling to most. But he had feelings enough. It’s simply that he chose to bury them deep within. It was unwise to bring psychoses to the business table. He took a seat in front of Darby’s desk and reached for a bundle of papers.

[i:dbcdb9a983]“Of course, Calder. We’ve received several substantial orders this very day.”[/i:dbcdb9a983] Darby enthused. Calder’s face remained grim.

[i:dbcdb9a983]“And your machine? Living up to expectation? I hope it is proving a worthwhile expense? Can I see the quarry?”[/i:dbcdb9a983] Darby’s expression turned blank before he nodded.

[i:dbcdb9a983]“Of course. The engineers are working miracles Adrian. As I’m sure you’ll agree.”[/i:dbcdb9a983] He tried to warm the atmosphere. Calder’s reaction to being called by his Christian name, made the effort pointless.

The walk to the main face of the quarry brought repeated hisses and grunts from Calder. He was growing rapidly impatient and irritable.

Darby ushered the labourers to clear the way.

[i:dbcdb9a983]“Just this morning, we discovered a cave. It appears to have been sealed by a landslide or a rock-fall. Granger here has already made an initial layout of the cave. Seems to be a rich vein of ore too.”[/i:dbcdb9a983] Calder wasn’t impressed.

He ordered a group of labourers aside and peered deep into the mewling blackness of the narrow tunnel.

He could only make out the roughly hewn walls of rock. After a few metres the light diminished rapidly. He squinted, leaning his head into the rock face. Was that silver glinting there? He blinked and looked again. No, nothing. He felt a cold, stale breeze escape the shaft and as it chilled him to the bone, he stepped back.

He looked visibly paler. But Darby didn’t acknowledge the change.

[i:dbcdb9a983]“I must say Darby. I am not impressed. I want the worker’s salaries cut until I see improvement. And if I do not see increased production before the end of the week I will remove my funding.”[/i:dbcdb9a983]

Darby was flabbergasted. He had been so proud of the quarry’s production of ore.

[i:dbcdb9a983]“Calder!? Surely you jest? The quarry has performed better than projected. The workers are already working from dawn till dusk!”[/i:dbcdb9a983]

Calder balked at the Quaker’s obstinacy.

[i:dbcdb9a983]“Then they will work by firelight if need be! You have my instructions. See that you follow them. Good day to you sir.”[/i:dbcdb9a983] He spun on his heels. Walking quickly and resolutely he returned to his carriage. The bark, as he ordered the driver to take him home, echoing across the stretch of scarred land.


[size=24:dbcdb9a983]A[/size:dbcdb9a983]s dusk fell across the quarry floor, the area now barren of life, something sent plumes of dust billowing from the cavern’s mouth.

Something shuffled forward. Hissing with ancient hate. Eyes opened for the first time in centuries. Bathing the cavern walls in unnatural light as they reflected the invisible wavelengths of light on silver irises. A stench followed the dust’s escape. The scent of forgotten, fallen prey. The stench of things long dead.

[size=24:06d7404392]C[/size:06d7404392]alder retired to his study. He lifted various books from his book shelves, placing them methodically on his desk as he poured a generous glass of brandy from a crystal decanter. The actions were precise and rehearsed. He unbuttoned his waistcoat and sighed as the pressures of the day escaped him like air from a torn balloon. Several candles bathed the panelled chamber in soft light, he began to light more as the sun bade farewell to the manse. The dying embers of sunlight replaced, at least in part, by those of the waking flames in his fireplace, and the candles flickering on his desk.

He placed his somewhat regal wig on a dark, stained wooden bust and began reading. The book was dressed in resplendent black leather. Gold filigree adorned the spine, luring the eye to the book’s title and author.

[i:06d7404392]“Paradise Lost, John Milton.”[/i:06d7404392] His lips read silently...

[i:06d7404392]“Of Hill, and Vallie, Rivers, Woods and Plaines,
Now Land, now Sea, and Shores with Forrest crownd,
Rocks, Dens, and Caves; but I in none of these
Find place or refuge; and the more I see
Pleasures about me, so much more I feel
Torment within me, as from the hateful siege.”[/i:06d7404392]

The shriek that rose up from the hallway at the bottom of the stairs, made him not only spill his glass, but send the book spiralling across the desk in his sudden fright.

((wow! nicely done Frank. This is gonna be gooooood...::rubs his hands together:: :twisted:

[size=24:ea1d76e0b8]T[/size:ea1d76e0b8]he gaunt figure had feasted since it’s awakening. At last looking something like his old self, Arnulf stood gazing out across the gorge. Malevolent eyes arcing this way and that, remembering how the land had looked when he went into the earth. He grimaced as the memory bore more painful facets to the fore. The spear Tepes had driven through him, forcing his retreat from the battle. He spotted a fox hunting, her belly swollen with pups. Suppressing the desire to feast further, he focused his terrible, feral mind on the despoiler of his adopted realm. The face he saw peering in at his ferrous tomb was that villain. His face twisted into a snarl as he remembered the face of Adrian Calder.

[i:ea1d76e0b8]“You cannot hide from nature’s vengeance, man-thing.”[/i:ea1d76e0b8] *

At that he dropped to all fours, running up and out of the gorge’s belly following the scent of his enemy.

----------------------

[size=24:ea1d76e0b8]C[/size:ea1d76e0b8]alder stumbled back from his desk, lifting the musket from it as a second scream echoed through the grand house.

[i:ea1d76e0b8]“Abberline! What’s going on!?”[/i:ea1d76e0b8] He called out for his servant, his voice uncharacteristically wavered.

The cry that answered him chilled him to the core. Something inhuman had invaded his home. He pulled back the hammer on the pistol and ventured out into the hallway. His steel-blue eyes, darting from left to right. His face pale as blood drained into his chest.

[i:ea1d76e0b8]“Abberline!”[/i:ea1d76e0b8]

He reached the top of the stairs, peering down over the thickly, curved oak rail. The woollen rug that bade entry into the house was streaked in gore. Crimson trails lured his eyes, just as the filigree had to the gore’s author.

Abberline lay beheaded, the fluid contents of his neck smeared on the wooden floor.

Calder retched at the sight. Coughing back the bile in his throat, he steeled himself for the worst.

He began to descend the carpeted stairs, freezing as Abberline’s killer padded out of the drawing room.

He didn’t think about firing the pistol. It just happened. Just as the musket ball, just happened to send the thing staggering before it howled balefully at it’s attacker.

It was at best, humanoid. Covered in coarse black hair, it’s face looking simian in it’s ruggedness. As it stepped forward, terrible fangs drooling with intent, it’s visage fluctuated, becoming increasingly human.

[i:ea1d76e0b8]“You are the one who raped my lands! You are without redemption! Nature will judge you now!”[/i:ea1d76e0b8] *

Calder stumbled, dropping his pistol as the figure spoke. It’s voice, thick and guttural.

It fixed silvered, slitted eyes on him then lunged. Calder ran back towards his study, but as his fingers curled around the doorknob it was upon him. Claws raking through his fine attire as assuredly as it’s mouth latched around the back of his neck, biting, tearing. He shrieked as he felt his flesh being rent asunder as easily as tissue. His voice becoming a gurgle as his own blood filled his mouth.

As he lost consciousness it spoke again.

[i:ea1d76e0b8]“Death is too easy for your kind. Drink beast. Drink and let time be your jury.”[/i:ea1d76e0b8] * At that it opened it’s wrist, forcing the weeping wound into his mouth. Dying revulsion made him gag at first, then as the creature blood mixed with his own he felt a hell borne hunger fill him. Drawing in mouthfuls he fed, his very veins aflame as the last of his humanity was slain. Drowned in the vitæ of his destroyer and creator.

His mind swam. Charybdis and Scylla pursuing him through a maelstrom of blood and fear. Wolves tearing at his heels, devouring the simpering, sobbing form he’d been reduced to.


((*translated from Slavonic.