Prince Connor Wrath is beyond bored with his royal lifestyle. Receiving nothing but the most mundane tasks in the name of his kingly father, and even less respect than the court jester, he dreams of a life beyond the land of Lynnwood. There’s only one catch: The gods of old have forbade travel past the harbors and inlets of the only land he’s ever known. Who are these gods, where have they gone, and why would they insist on such a questionable boundary? Connor is determined to be the first who defies the laws of the disappeared deities.
What follows is IP of Gonzo Wolf Productions LLC & Chad Cloud-Miller
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Wrath’s Lament
by Rev. Dare Cloud
Chapter Eight
3.5
Intercepted transmission. Unknown origin.
My dearest S’Varick,
If you’re reading this, then you’ve discovered my father’s secret communication chamber. I always thought it was some kind of fancy bedroom furniture locked away in secrecy for prancing around in fancy ladies’ dresses. Shamefully, I was wrong. My hopes are that he died, and you’re snooping around for where the old man kept the riches. Good luck with that. I was under the impression that I knew everything there was to know about the castle. I guess I was wrong, because I found neither fancy ladies’ dresses nor money.
It feels like an eternity since I’ve laid eyes on you. Let me tell you, these eyes have seen a lot. You wouldn’t believe what’s up here, S’Varick. It’s unlike anything that any of us could’ve ever imagined. Did you know that we weren’t the first people to inhabit our home? I know, it’s pure Connor to just come right out and say it like that, but it’s the truth. You may want to find a place to sit down. There’s much to discuss, and most of it will be shocking.
The gods own our planet, and they bred us as an experiment. Also as a workforce to harvest their currency. You’re not going to believe this, but up here on this spaceship and beyond, God’s Crop is how they measure wealth! Can you believe it? I’ve been smoking away vast amounts of currency my entire life! That actually sounds like something I would do.
You see, a very long time ago, there was a race of beings just like us only they had crazy magic like the old tales of the sorcerers. They were so advanced, they knew anything they wanted to know at the touch of a button. I heard they wasted all their time watching sexy art on a chaotic device they kept in their pockets. Eventually, they got a little too full of themselves and banned God’s Crop to further their own greed. My friend Rank is the last living member of what is referred to as Earth 2.0.
Is any of this making any sense to you? Trust me, I blacked out a few times in shock from some of the things I’ve discovered since being aboard the Cobra; that’s the name of the ship I’m on. It’s even bigger than the one you all witnessed taking off after I was dragged out of court. Much, much bigger. It’s so big; it’s like our whole kingdom stuck inside a giant bubble and allowed to travel beyond the stars we saw with our own eyes atop the highest tower. I think between myself, Rank, and Duke, we still haven’t seen all of it.
Sorry; I forgot to tell you about my other friend, Duke. Duke is what we call him, at least. Our human tongues can’t mimic the sounds it takes to say his given name, so he chose to be called Duke. He was from Earth 1.0; the one before us, and even before Rank. He’s very old, and doesn’t look like us at all, S’Varick. I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t take some getting used to. He’s one of the gods; kind of. Let we back that up just a bit.
Duke is the same race of creature as our gods, but he doesn’t get to be one of them. He got into a lot of debt with several of the God’s Crop Houses, and this is what he’s been tasked to do until his debt is repaid. According to his own people, he’s the lowest member of their society; a criminal, an addict, and a waste of public funds. I guess they just stuck him here with us, the other losers, to sweep him out of the way. Out of sight, out of mind. Still, he’s my friend, the same as Rank, because we’re all the same predicament. We’re what our own societies considered to be the problem children; the nuisances of our turn at bat. Sorry, that’s a reference to something you know absolutely nothing about, so just use any other ending to that sentence other than “at bat.”
At joust? At lance, perhaps? Sloppy seconds?
Regardless of what you choose to call it; we are the ones tasked to do the things no one else in their right minds wants to do. If it’s too dirty and smelly for the kings of this contraption, it gets passed down to us. If the mission is too dangerous, and they don’t want to waste one of their “good” servants, then we do that one as well. I honestly believe there are some of them we report directly to who are placing wagers on our continued survival. Well, if I have anything to do about it, there’s a lot of God’s Crop going into some faithful hands. I dare them to bet against me.
It’s a bit of a disappointment to go from soldier to servant, but how would I have even known? My father never knew me as a soldier. His treatment toward me was no different than the gods, but at least I’m not alone. They treat Rank just as foul, and Duke as well, even though he is one of them. It’s punishment for something in which I have yet to receive explanation. I guess, in the end, it could all be much worse. I could be a Grey.
This is where it’s all going to get a bit frightening, my dearest, for our gods were not gods at all within the grand scheme. No, the true gods, the ones who are responsible for the location, destruction, population, re-destruction, and then abandonment of everything we knew; they’re not good people. Led by a rogue human from the planet’s second age, they’re determined to attack and destroy what little our budding society built.
The third age of our home is destined to be destroyed along with you, my father, and every bit of family, friends, or foes I’ve known since the day I gasped first breath into our world. I know this because me, Duke, and Rank were on a mission to stop their weapons before reaching the planet’s surface. We failed.
In the time it’s taken me to write this, I can see shadows of brilliance ripple past the Cobra’s view ports. Not only are you probably long dead by now, vaporized into the energy of a dozen or so suns, but they’re really going to tear into us. Another mistake pushed aside.
To be bluntly honest, I’m not even sure why I bothered to initiate this transmission. I guess to clear my own conscience. Is that selfish of me?
Perhaps we’ll meet again on Earth 4.0. Here’s to hope.
End of transmission. Undelivered.
The Gonzo Wolf 
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