Pastelland Forum

OnyxIonVortex wrote:actually I pronounce it, like a "ksd" laugh or something

zombieshooter wrote:—Are you aware that, by going through that gate into the Designated Conflict Zone, you are no more our responsibility?
— I’m fully aware of that, sir.
— Then you may pass, and may the Gods have mercy on your soul.
The guard then ordered for the gate to be opened. As the giant door moved, I saw a completely different landscape. No more buildings, trees or the yellowish grass, only sand and dirt. A complete desert, only a few dried bushes and one or two lizards. A few tents hidden behind rocks with green flags over them, next to what was probably the graves of once soldiers defeated in battle. A horse’s skeleton lying on the dry soil.

Vurn wrote:I stepped into the scorching, barren landscape from the customs chamber, the last bastion of that phantasmagoric realm of protected chambers, reinforced steel, symmetrical pavements and well-greased cogs of coercive apparatus. The gates closed after me, one by one, with thick, fierce, strict metallic clicks, thincks, and other onomatopeic sounds associated with metal and closing, with a loud THWANG reverberating around the area serving as a counterpoint to this baroque fugue of closing.
I took a long breath as I stared down the sun-scorched remnants of the skeleton of what aeons ago must've been an imposing creature, its long, reminiscent of no known animal's, bizarre bones protruding towards the zenith like the forgotten spires of a desecrated cathedral of gods pagan and eerie.
This air will soothe your lungs, they said. It just made me think of water, as it travelled through my respiratory system, painfully reminding of just how raw and susceptible to being parched were those funky stuff like the larynx, glottis, palate, velum and all. Another painful realization, altough of a different sort, came to mind: there was nobody here for me, the gates closed and not a sound was uttered behind my back. I could die begging for entry at these very gates of the border stronghold, and noone would bat an eyelash. I had to move on forward, and quickly.
It will be a long day, I thought.

zombieshooter wrote:*metaphorically Vurns my book's sketch*