Roanin turned around and got back to what he was originally planning to do. After wading through a pond for hours, Roanin met the person he was looking for, or thing in this case. It was a black horse named Nightmare that often visited the forest next to his new residence. On top of that, according to Roanin, it could talk. No one else believed him, but he was certain of anything that he saw with his own two eyes. Nightmare approached and began to speak, just as Roanin had always known.
"Need a lift?"
Roanin climbed on top of his old friend and began to gallop through the coniferous forest. This wasn't any old ride though. It was one of his daily ventures to a place he called "Graghgorra".
"How was your day?"
Nightmare whinnied, then replied after stopping to catch his breath.
"It was very typical. There wasn't a lot to see in this forest. I often look forward to these adventures I have with you."
The ride continued, and Roanin did his best to stay attentive to his surroundings. There were several things to be aware of regarding the forest around Rasoe. There was the Terror of course, but Roanin knew that he was not afraid of those guys. He would rather live a life of freedom than cower beneath a table out of cowardice. Then there were the Mandras. The Mandras were little forest-dwelling people about the size of Roanin’s thumb. They were also dangerous for any sort of traveler who would be easily seduced by the songs that they whistled and played on their small ethnic instruments. The last thing was the most concerning to Roanin. Legend had it that a soldier made of clay, stone, and wood roamed the woods. Apparently, he was a fallen soldier from a place called The Beginning. He had been torn apart by a malevolent enemy and left to die. However, the ancient villagers of Rasoe gave him a new body made out of whatever was around their town. The soldier, discontent with his new appearance, left the town of Rasoe and began to kill whomever decided to show their face in the woods. It was just a legend, but the thought of it was a secret fear of Roanin’s. Despite their differences on the surface, the Royal Family and the Windy Summit had a lot in common. Although the Royal Family was brutal and ruthless on the outside, both governments shared this unfortunate trait. The Windy Summit just simply chose to distract the public if they decided to beat an obnoxious protester within an inch of his life. They would frame that terrible man as a menace to the long-lasting peace that had controlled the Kingdom of Lavu for a while. Thus, peace was the perfect excuse to kill, and no one would be the wiser. With the amount of “good” that the government was capable of producing and the overwhelming support that the public provided, it was little wonder why the Kingdom of Lavu was called a “pathier” society. To the Kingdom of Lavu, the term “pathier” was derived from the term “pathfinder”, and the Kingdom was meant to serve as an ideal society to inspire the masses. That was the tricky irony of their peaceful image.
////// From Earth Book I:
Hidden in the world,
Is the dark plain called the Frogplain.
It contains neither hospitality,
Nor hostility,
But gives suffering, with no doubt.
The Pathiers, or Pathfinders as the Unkardians like to call them,
Were of a secret society that one cannot find unless completely without spirit.
To make it to the Pathier town, you must be an empty shell,
A mere husk,
A carapace of your former self.
The Pathiers, though kind,
Want their village to remain untouched.
Naturally, the Pathiers exist as an empty shell themselves.
It is only through them that one can find the Frogplain.
Pathiers find spirits,
Usually the Dwellers,
And journey beneath the core of the Earth,
Beyond Hell,
And find the Frogplain in the utter blackness.
The Pathiers cannot travel into the Frogplain with a spirit within their bodies,
And thus they deliver the souls to Hell,
And then discard them and enter.
The Frogplain, according to one Pathier,
Is soundless and infinitely big,
Not like space,
Since space is finite,
But with ability to see forever.
Every once in a while,
The moon rises in the Frogplain.
It is this moon that sets a flat ray of light shining through the darkness,
And sets the Lunar Plane,
The Lunar Plane, the one that reality exists on,
Is projected by this moon.
There is no denying its importance to our existence,
We must worship this moon as it is our moderator,
Just as we have a Creator to create the law,
We have the moon in the Frogplain that upholds that law.
However, do not trust the moon above Du Garma Canyon,
The moon above the Earth,
For that moon is deceitful.
Never trust it.
Never trust it.
The moon above the Earth,
It determines the judgement of Sol,
The dragon that is our Sun,
The dragon that will arrive and blot out the sky with its wings,
It is reflected in the Moon of the Earth.
Do not be deceived by it however,
For this moon does lie.
It does not always foretell the prophecies of Sol,
And gives false predictions.
Know this as well,
That the stallion of Ryanuaga,
It gallops around the plains between Heretmedel and Rasoe, the mountain town.
In the plains,
Soldiers fight,
Soldiers that exists only as the dead,
As if they were still defending the masses against the malevolent Dränsilane,
For they rebelled and made it their mission to destroy the king,
And thus they were cursed, for eternity,
By the blighted king himself.
Many of them are headless,
Others are missing limbs,
But they continue to fight among each other,
In an effort to rally their kin to fight the current king of Unkardia,
Whomever that may be,
They have succeeded only once,
And they dispersed once the stallion arrived and destroyed the image of a quarter of their ranks,
And since, they have no longer appeared among their comrades.
They rallied to the cause to destroy Norfell,
Seventh son of Dränsilane the First,
And though Norfell was wounded,
He was not killed.
The first piece sounded like what I imagine the red eye storm of Jupiter sounds like with winds blowing hundreds of miles per hour that could shred through flesh like wet tissue. I heard a intriguing bass synthesizer in the background. The second track was more harsh noise with an angelic choir in the background and the final piece was a cacophony of machines. I really don’t like Harsh Noise Wall but I can’t deny that it is art because it can evoke an unsettling feeling. This was not to my taste Dionysus Virus
Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I love the beautiful sounds of this album but I don’t have a favorite song. I have a favorite title, it’s called “I Am An Idol, But You Can Call Me The Pope”.. p.s- The Pope Smokes Dope! Dionysus Virus
C. Diab describes “Exit Rumination” as “a sonic exorcism,” and its dark, swelling songs are equal parts catharsis and tension. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 26, 2018
