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September 3rd, 2008

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01:38 pm - The Transmission

The Founder's voice thundered throughout the ship as we slipped through the service tunnels. Darien and I looked at each other with alarm, this time at eye-level. For the first time the sacred trust between Creator and Created was overshadowed by suspicion. Before he even opened his mouth, I made my intentions clear.

"No. I have no wish to be Founder."

"Been there, done that, Ash. Being in the front seat  would only make it worse. But if what he said was true..." We both knew it was. Under Bloodwing's control the Hydra had become little more of than nuisance to him, but free from the Founder's grip the Hydra's heads would stretch across the cosmos. "...someone has to. But it sure as Hell can't be Marcus!"

"How do we stop him?"

Darien stopped in his tracks, catching his breath. "I don't know..."

"Attention Dolls!" It was the voice of a young man. It could only be Marcus. "We have intruders on board! You must DESTROY..." The voice was interrupted by the distorted speech of the crustacean demon.

"Atten-shone Dolles! The Whiiine Cell-ar eez now ho-penn! Come get zee last of zee Blood-whiiine! Ex-clooo-siv veen-tages! Sooo-veneirs!"

Darien looked up at me. "What the HELL is he doing?"

"He is gathering all of the Dolls in one place."

He nodded slowly. "He is on our side, right?"

"Apparently. I am sure Marcus will not be happy that his orders are..."


I closed my eyes and started to tap the knowledge of the immortal that had once shared his soul with mine. In the clear backdrop of my imagination I whirled through images of dusty tomes and wooden codices in my mind. I had finally grasped the basics of the Founder's native tongue and script. Past the books and strung planks I came upon a stone tablet, and sensed the answer lay in the cuneiform.  I translated each sentence as best I could, struggling through the Gordian knot of grammar and sentence structure of Old High Ereb'ai. I felt a chill, realizing that with the destruction of one of the oldest kingdoms in the Underworld, this incalculable store of ancient knowledge now existed only in one place in the Universe...embedded in the sigils and bone that housed my spirit. My hand, which inexplicably was covered in pale flesh and interlaced with black markings, glided over the lazy river of runes.

"Just calling oneself Founder is not enough. To become strong enough to challenge the Hydra, one must under go a...transformation..."

A few seconds later when we felt the ship lurch. We heard explosions. I opened my eyes. My hand was indeed the metal that I remember.

Darien shook his head. "He's throwing a tantrum. We need to get near the cellar. But not too close, got it?"

"That sounds logical..."


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