Joseph

🎵 Hosannas From The Basements Of Hell - Killing Joke

My favorite Killing Joke album is Extremities, Dirt & Various Repressed Emotions. The Joke clawed their way back to the grit of post-punk’s raw marrow, but with a sharper edge. As for the second, it fluctuates, but currently it’s Hosannas From The Basements Of Hell. The album’s a bludgeon, a cudgel swung mercilessly, and it’s the track “Invocation” that I love the most—a hymn to chaos and war. “Mankind becomes the whore” indeed.

Chapter One: The Flickering Sun and the Rabbit Gods

Under the Flickering Sun, four adventurers—Cacalotl, Popochitl, Tlacotin, and Xochi—set out to mend a broken sky and avert famine. Armed with sacred blue kernels, they brave treacherous marshes, barter with Rabbit Gods, and prepare to uncover the mystery of the Forsaken One to restore balance.

By the light of the Pillar Moon, the heavens rained with streaks of sunshowers that burned like fire, beauty edged in dread. A season turned with the trembling rise of the Flickering Sun, its unsteady light souring the crops and ruining the earth. Rains of acid peeled the skin of the land, searing it raw, the priests’ machine grinding against the harmony of the cosmos. The foretelling of famine hung heavy in the air, a weight no hand could lift.

From his estate, a Farmlord raised a call. He charged the adventurers to uncover the fate of the Forsaken One and mend the skies before the land starved under its wounded sun. Provisioned with the sacred blue kernels, the last seeds of a dying world, the party set forth to the city of Tenoch, where Tlalocitzin awaited with what guidance he could give. The Empire swayed on a splintered edge, and only by unraveling the Forsaken One’s mystery could balance return.

The adventurers were four. Cacalotl, a shadow in the shape of a man, his raven-feathered shoulders hidden beneath a tattered cloak, for the Empire’s hunters would have his life. Popochitl, an F20 Fletch-Sender Golem, vis stone veins webbed with the memories of heretics and betrayal. Tlacotin, a cunning Huhuahua whose ears caught whispers no man could hear. And Xochi, the scribe, whose guise in Scriberspace was as shifting as his truths.

The market swarmed with life, a scatter of voices and haggling cries. Cacalotl approached Yohualli, a merchant with a sharp eye and sharper wares. He asked of weapons, and the man laid forth a spear tipped in obsidian and a cloak of modest protection. Unsatisfied, Cacalotl turned to Cozcacuautli, a rival hawker of goods, who offered a flint knife and a cloak said to grant the swiftness of the wind. For one ear of blue corn and a promise of another in two weeks, Cacalotl took the knife. Should he fail his promise, Cozcacuautli would bind him in servitude.

Using the pages of a journal stolen from the Farmlord, Xochi slipped into Scriberspace in the guise of a kingfisher. The scribe pieced together fragments of a tale—village expeditions wrecked by the price demanded by the Rabbit Gods for safe passage through the marshes. The toll, it seemed, was corn, blue, and rare.

Popochitl, the stone-hearted, sought less honorable means. Ve moved like a shadow to steal a spear from Yohualli’s stall. Vis first attempt failed, and the sound of vis clumsy reach woke a decrepit golem. Its alarm fell on deaf ears, ignored by merchants who had grown weary of its false cries. Unperturbed, Popochitl made a second pass, grasping a hatchet with hands of unyielding stone.

Tlacotin, meanwhile, returned from a nearby stall with his prize: dried beans and chiles to fill their bellies. Inspired by Popochitl’s audacity, he took the cloak from Yohualli’s stand in a swift motion. Cacalotl’s gaze burned into the Huhuahua, but no word passed his lips.

Provisioned, the party pressed into the marshes, where the Flickering Sun sputtered behind a veil of mist. Night fell, and they ate their meager meal by the fire, the rich flavors of bean and chile redolent in their mouths. Cacalotl climbed into the branches above, his raven eyes cutting through the dark. He saw them then—shadows too large for comfort, moving toward their camp. He descended, his boots soft against the earth, and kicked dirt over the fire.

“Shhh,” he hissed. “They’re coming.”

The party hid, and Cacalotl turned to Popochitl. “Lie as stone. Be what you are.”

The golem stretched upon the ground, vis jagged form barely indistinguishable from the earth. The shapes drew closer, revealed in time as rabbits, but no ordinary kind. These were gods in flesh, their every step bending the marshland to their will. Tlacotin, wise in their ways, offered up an ear of blue corn. One of the Rabbit Gods took it, its adorable form retreating into the reeds, granting the party safe passage.

Hearty gratitude passed among them, though Tlacotin demurely brushed it off. They rested then, their golem watchful in the dark, vis stone heart unburdened by sleep.

In our next chapter of Flayed Sun: To Heal the Sky, the adventurers placate a colossal blue lobster, enter Tenoch, and learn the Forsaken One holds the key to ending famine.

There are books, many of them. Piled high and heavy. A foolish number, some might say, were purchased but were left unread, never mind the overgrown stack of books I’m already reading. For 2025, I have resolved this: to read all of them.

1. A History of Religious Ideas, Volume 1: From the Stone Age to the Eleusinian Mysteries by Mircea Eliade
2. A Peoples History of the Uniter States by Howard Zinn
3. Arctic Dreams by Barry Lopez
4. Hyperion by Dan Simmons
5. Paradise Lost by John Milton
6. Shōgun by James Clavell
7. Stupefying Stories, 26
8. The Big Book of Cyberpunk edited by Jared Shurin
9. The Lover by Marguerite Duras
10. The Magos by Dan Abnett
11. The Support Economy by Shoshana Zuboff and James Maxmin
12. Ugly Beauty: Jazz in the 21st Century by Philip Freeman

I saw some artwork that HolBolDoArt shared on Bluesky. It reminded me of Del Rey Book’s covers for the books of H. P. Lovecraft, painted by Michael Whalen in the 1980s, and James Vail’s artwork for his survival horror role-playing game, Xas Irkalla. Next thing I know, I’m jotting down notes for an adventure set in Irkalla influenced by Sumerian mythology. Of course, it’s super grimdark.