Synthetix.FM is honoured to host the epic new project from imagination of Jon Of The Shred as a regular biweekly feature. I hope everyone supports this kick arse idea as it takes the soundtrack aspect of 80s inspired synth music into whole new realm of possibilities and as the Synthetix community becomes involved who knows what wonders we'll experience. Over to you, Jon rocker!
The concept behind Scythe is an idea I've had for years now. Conceptualized in 2009, the idea is an entire sub-genre of music that is connected through a cohesive narrative. Instead of a concept album from one band, why not have a concept UNIVERSE celebrated by a dozen artists? Upon discovering the genre Synthwave through this very site, Synthetix.FM, I found the perfect music genre and community to allow this project to reach it's full potential. It is with that I proudly present the launch of the SCYTHE universe available exclusively on Synthetix.FM and LuigiDonatello's Youtube channel!
The Scythian Chronicles: Infiltration
by Jon of the Shred
The city skyline stands dark and solemn against the night sky, almost invisible to the eye, blending almost seamlessly against the stars. This was the once great Specter City. Years before Specter City was a bustling metropolis filled with culture and wealth, arguably the grandest city on the entire planet of Scythe. Back then the skyscrapers would have been dotted with inviting lights, drenching the countryside in a neon hue so bright it would block out the stars. But all the life of the once prosperous metropolis had been drained away, and now it was just another massive graveyard; a charred, blackened gathering of twisted steel that housed nothing but death and the fading memories of a great civilization lost.
Specter City stood upon the edge of the country, sandwiched between the great Specter Sea and the Forest of the Impaled. At the edge of the Forest of the Impaled now stands the Lone Musician, one of the psychologically scarred survivors of the horrid Apocalyptic Dawn. His face is expressionless as he surveys the abandoned city, memories flooding into his minds eye, painful reminders of horrors from 6 months ago. He can't help but turn his thoughts to those days during the great panic, to how the world was turned upside down and a plague mercilessly cut through every city and town on the planet, rendering once great civilizations and cultures into figurative ashes of the past.
The Lone Musician continues forward, his trusty guitar on his back and a machete hanging off his belt. A steely, cold resolve pushes him forward despite his weakened state. He hasn't eaten in days – the Forest of the Impaled did not prove fruitful for foraging. Not only had no animals walked within the cross hairs of his crossbow during his journey through the forest, but no animals even made sounds within earshot of him. The forest was stiller than it had ever been before, eerily silent when it too used to be so full of life much like the life the city once housed. The Lone Musician's search for food in the forest had lasted 3 days with no results. It was with this string of bad luck and hunting misfortune that drove him to the edge of Specter City on this dark and unforgiving night.
Scoping the fence that surrounds the city, the Lone Musician looks for a weakness, and finally spots a hole in the chain links. Through the hole in the fence he goes, and he now stands in Specter City, likely the first living man to walk through it's streets since the Apocalyptic Dawn first brought the Scythian people to their knees.
The pungent aroma of death grows thicker with each step he takes. The alleyways are littered with corpses, thankfully none that are moving. Once majestic buildings tower overhead ominously, no longer dotted with the neon lights and flashy digital billboards of only 6 months prior. Now they only cast shadows of death and despair, across abandoned streets and alleys littered with the decay of a dead society.
The Lone Musician continues forward, making his way down an alleyway. He steps over corpses mindfully, making each step deliberately. Lurking undead would often spring back to life and bite a chunk of flesh from their victims legs, now lazy and inactive compared to their frenzied, calculated rage in the early days of the apocalypse. The Lone Musician continues forward, listening for signs of danger, always alert and ready to fight or flee should the need arise. As he reaches the end of the alley, his ears catch the sound of shuffling feet, of uncoordinated footsteps. He carefully peaks around the corner, hand ready on his machete, to survey the situation.
There it lumbers. The mechanized corpse of a former Specter City police officer aimlessly wanders the abandoned city streets. It's face is a twisted mix of hunger, instinct and death, with the slightest hint of sadness. Chunks of flesh hang off what used to be the corpses left arm, which appears to have been violently ripped off at the elbow. A large gash in it's stomach has caused the creatures innards to fall out. It's intestines were now being dragged across the concrete below, leaving a trail of blood behind, the corpse none the wiser. The Lone Musician notes the irony – these beasts are perpetually hungry, yet this one's intestines are being dragged behind it – the food serves no purpose. He'd seen other Impaled who feasted so much their stomachs had exploded. What a cruel irony, both for the creatures and the survivors. An endless hunger that only leads to more hunger. Perhaps the creatures hungered for death. In any case, it was time to end this one's hunger.
In a flash his machete was drawn and he was darting towards the Impaled. The creature turned towards him, but not fast enough, as the machete was sunk deep into it's head, draining the strange life right from it's undead eyes. The Lone Musician quickly withdraws the blade from the creatures skull, and the corpse sinks lifelessly to the concrete below. He looks around fast, not seeing any more of the Impaled, and darts to an abandoned corner store.
Looking into the window the Lone Musician sees the store is still full of supplies and opens the door cautiously, closing it softly behind him. Looking down each aisle he spots only a single corpse. He picks up a piece of broken glass on the floor and throws it down the aisle right at the corpse. The glass hits the ground and shatters, but the corpse does not stir. In a flash, he puts his customized survival guitar case to the ground, opening one of the large pockets and stuffing it with all the food within arms length. He rips open a bag of chips and starts eating passionately, satiating a hunger that had lasted far too long and returned far too frequently.
The Lone Musician moves on to the beverage section. The refrigeration systems had long been dormant and most of the goods contained within were spoiled. This does not deter the man, as he searches for water. He finds it and starts adding dozens of bottles to his haul, quickly filling his bag, not noticing the lifeless corpse from earlier had started to shuffle towards him. He opens one of the bottles and right as he's finished chugging it's contents, the corpse grabs him.
Dropping his machete and falling to the ground, the Impaled now lunges at his throat. The Lone Musician in a moment of desperation pulls out his pistol and fires a bullet right into the creatures brain. The gunshot echoes through the abandoned store. The Lone Musician tosses the corpse off of him and quickly scoops up his guitar case, holsters his pistol, and grabs his machete.
Now dashing for the door, the wail of Impaled moans is growing around him. They were already swarming towards the entrance. Lurking Impaled sprung to action, straining to gain footing and lumbering hungrily towards the convenience store entrance. The Lone Musician steps into the streets and scopes dozens of Impaled closing in from every direction. The gunshot had served as a dinner bell, and these corpses were hungry. An Impaled gets too close for comfort and the Lone Musician plunges his machete through the creatures right eye and out the back of it's skull. The corpse doesn't even hit the ground before the Lone Musician has broken into a sprint towards the alleyway he'd entered the city through.
Two Impaled block the entrance of the alleyway, and the Lone Musician quickly sinks his machete into one of the creatures skulls while simultaneously drawing his pistol and firing a round into the others skull. He immediately withdraws his blade from the rotten flesh and holsters his pistol, breaking into a run down the alleyway with purpose. Finally he reaches the breech in the fence, dodging three more Impaled and scrambling through. He has escaped Specter City in one piece, but the night is still young and he has to move fast to outrun the legions of Scythian undead now slowly stumbling towards him in hopes of consuming his flesh.
As he finally reaches the edge of the forest, he turns around and takes one last glance at Specter City. In a strange way it was satisfying seeing the city full of life again. For just a moment he pretends the figures dotting the landscape and now pushing at the fences were living Scythians. He pretended the dark presence of death has been lifted and the city was once again full of life and prosperity. But these thoughts fade quick as more Impaled emerge from the forest. Quickly downing three of these creatures to the grass with his machete, he darts into the forest with a case full of food and an entire undead city at his heels.
The Scythian Chronicles will have a new instalment published on Synthetix.FM every two weeks and you can pick up a copy of 'Infiltration' on Jon Of The Shred's Bandcamp here.