Topic: A Collection of Information

Jonathan Hawk

Date: 2012-03-09 09:48 EST
Foreword by the Author of The Fall of Alterra, Brother Hoyt of the Temple of the East Winds


Not the Beginning.

Every story has a beginning; where else would a historian start? The problem with beginnings is that they aren?t always clear cut; sometimes the beginning doesn?t appear in neon letters with an arrow pointing to it. Other historians will no doubt write other versions of this world, these events and they will, I have no doubt, state that the ?Event? was the beginning.

I would, will, beg to differ. Without going back before the Event it has no meaning, no depth of the true horror of what was done there on the world called Hera so far from Mother Earth that it may seem unimportant. It is important to understand that no matter how far we cast ourselves in the stars that at the core it is always our humanity that eventually catches us up and guides our actions; whether they be good or the proverbial evil is a matter of perspective and debate.

There are some that will question why I have decided to write about this particular history. They will debate if my time spent on that planet has affected my objectivity, and I tell you now that it has, of course, affected my objectivity. I would challenge any historian, or perhaps I am just a scribe in this case, to live with people; to eat, sleep, work, play with people and have such things not affect how you write of them.

Some of these stories are taken from vids provided by the government. For those unfamiliar with the planet Alterra there is a system of surveillance in place that was instituted during the reign of the last King, King Desmond ?ur Tate.

Through the use of technology and magic, an art named technomancy; devices were distributed throughout the populated areas. So pervasive were these devices that it was impossible to find them all and so it is that a few were found and what was recorded there will be written here as testimonies to how these people lived their daily lives before everything they knew was destroyed.

I have endeavored to piece together a wealth of knowledge for others to examine at leisure. Many of the vids were retrieved along with excerpts from the local papers, commentary by historians and the general populace.

It should be noted that Alterra still has a core population on the main continents but they have returned to an isolationist culture. This document is not meant as anything beyond a source of information on an alien culture, there will be no conclusions drawn for the reader, that will be upon you.

Jonathan Hawk

Date: 2012-03-10 17:09 EST
Video archive, unit numbers: 5424.nw, 5424 ne, 5402 se, 4240 n, 10495 e, 10495 ne. Year 2353 Standard, First month, day 1. Atropolos City. Edited for relevance. - Excerpt from The Fall of Alterra.

One camera angle shows a room full of small children. Some are playing, some are drawing, others are napping on mats lined up in a darkened corner. Three women were moving around the room, checking on the kids, assisting with the crayons or breaking up the small disputes that children sometimes get into when left to their own devices.

The room itself was fairly large, and lined with windows that were open to allow the warm southern winds to wash into the room, evident by the soft sound of it as it blew across the cameras. The next series of shots seemed to move in slow motion. The camera angles all focused on the adults now, two in particular. A medium sized woman of approximately thirty standard years was in the middle of showing a child the correct order for his letters when her face twisted in a mask of pain. One of her hands rose to clamp over her mouth in an attempt to muffle the scream she had started. The child she was leaning over was looking up at her with wide, uncomprehending eyes.

Another shot showed the youngest of the women moving toward the sleeping children and then without noticeable cause dropping to her knees. She also brought a hand to her face but it was to wipe at the sudden gush of liquid that was pouring from her nose, her eyes, and ears. Her hands were covered in blood, she wiped over and over again. Each time pulling her hands away from her face to stare at her coated hands as if she couldn?t quite understand what it was she was seeing.

The third woman was looking back and forth between the two women who had become the center of attention for the children. Slowly, so slowly the expressions on the children's faces changed, sliding from unaware, through curious and quickly racing to panicked.

It was at this point that the sound in the video picked up dramatically, filling the world shown on the screen with screams of terror and of agony. The first woman had given up on trying to stifle her voice and the sound she emitted was eerie and nearly inhuman. She writhed on the ground, twisting her body into shapes that her frame was never built to support. Blood was flowing from her eyes, ears and nose now, a mirror to the woman across the room.

The cameras were obscured by the rush of bodies as the children tried to run from the room, away from the screams, blood and horror that used to be two of their caregivers. The lone woman that was still unaffected by whatever was happening to her coworkers was standing in the middle of the room now stunned.

The film shifted to a scene at the Piazza del Popolo, dozens of people are walking through or standing to watch the large fountain in the center. The popular tourist attraction was busy that day, the unseasonably warm day bringing out crowds.

From the northwest corner the event began, from there it seemed as though an invisible wave washed over the crowd knocking every woman from her feet. Some screamed, others just curled up into a fetal position, moaning and rocking.

For a long moment the men did nothing, it almost looked as though they had been turned to statues themselves, just another part of the Piazza. Then as one they all bent to try and figure out what was going on. Some of the women were bleeding now, streams of bright red flowing down from eyes, ears and nose, those women would be dead soon.

Other women were writhing as though in pain, and that pain would be with them for life. The men did what they could, many picking up loved ones and heading toward the nearest hospital. By the time they reached it from the Piazza it would be overflowing, a steady stream of women being brought in, either dead or screaming in pain.