Francis of the filth free download

As such, there was no telling how long he had been here or how long he would be here. Presently from within the confines of the shadows, something dark was fumbling along. Then the creature stepped from mirage onto clear ice and he saw that the darkness was not all shadow but mostly flesh. The creature, an unsightly humanoid, was of singular matter, and one color from head to foot. He drew near and sat beside the boy. Though a total stranger in a foreign world, there was neither any sense of alarm nor of relief.

The two observed each other for a period and then the creature spoke. Off the map. Literally nowhere. But I have been sent to you to bring revelation. Revelation of what?

His face was rimmed as though by a tight circle of light and his head occasionally gave a mild twitch. He seemed serene but occupied. The omniverses are divided into dozens of dimensions, and each dimension is divided into millions of realms. The pink creature spoke with a voice that seemed not his own. Indeed, in most other realms, he would only have been capable of communicating in a series of grunts and squeals, but here he spoke with a somber tone and a beautiful timbre.

There was a pregnant silence before they both burst out laughing. And these entities essentially fall - or are placed - into one of seven Tiers of Being. Pink Guy ignored this question as one of utter stupidity. He continued. The Wretched are those who have been confined to the abysses and the infernos.

They exist but only in a form that knows suffering and pain. They have been condemned. Its mouth opened, but nothing came out. Frank could feel the warmth leaving its body as if its soul was being chipped away by the second. He quickly broke eye contact. Lower than humans and other humanoid creations, they exist but in a lesser form and with nominal consciousness. They can neither be elevated from their level nor condemned from it.

They toil all their days as servants of those who exist above them. To those above them they are dominated and pitied. To the Wretched, the Beasts are free and secure, and the envy of their sorry souls. He was still not entirely comfortable with this entity before him and so watched him with a cautious eye.

You would be familiar with these. A somewhat sad and conflicted mob, they live a quasi existence in worlds in which they procreate and kill, create and destroy, love and hate. No-one really knows quite what to do with them. They are a sort of work in progress. This includes entities like you and me, Frank. You are a rankenfile. Suffice to say, there is a lot of interest in you. I strongly suspect the latter. None of them appealed to him.

How am I any different from a mere mortal? Chromosomes are the universal means of currency, time, travel and power. When your chromosomes began to multiply, you became a full rankenfile and this made you both an asset and a target.

Your chromosomes are still progressively multiplying at a dangerously fast rate. Entities will fear you and hunt you for your chromosomes. And whenever they are used, sold or stolen, you will need to replenish them quickly or terrible things will happen. The chimpillas are powerful. They travel the realms shadowing the rankenfiles, pursuing them for their chromosomes and pressing them into their service. There is no escaping them. They will find you. All you can do is delay it for as long as possible and hope that you can escape without too much loss.

In a flash Pink Guy had his finger to his lips. Pink Guy continued, dismissing the question as more mindless drivel. Nobody in the tiers below can say, with any certainty, who or what reigns in these two tiers or even if there are two tiers. Rumor has it that the sixth tier belongs to the peace lords but few would even dare to state that publicly. Some chimpillas are good, others are evil and some are yet to make their allegiance known. What you have to understand, Frank, is that there are hostilities in the omniverses.

And loyalty is currently a very fluid notion. The peace lords are extremely powerful yet no-one knows where their allegiances lie, certainly not us and perhaps not even amongst the peace lords themselves. Some are the very essence of evil, yet wrap themselves in light. Others are pure goodness, yet veil their loyalties with clouds of darkness and deception.

Who has supreme power? He stopped there, lost for words, and Frank looked at him agog. Who or what is at the top Tier of Being? Pink Guy appeared reluctant to speak on, as if revealing any such names or identities or titles or presence could see him instantly thrown amongst the Wretched.

Frank sat in wonder as he heard these words. They both sat there in reluctance. He is The Great One. They have an untold number of chromosomes in their arsenal and they are rebelling against any force that opposes them. No-one knows anymore where the real power might lie. No-one knows who is in control. More and more entities are resisting their innate position and are storming other tiers.

They do this by stealing chromosomes. And it can, in effect, not only elevate them to higher tiers but potentially alter the constitution of others, destining them to lower tiers.

The tiers are shifting. Dimensions and realms are warping. This has never happened before. The omniverses no longer have the order that we once knew. Some are even becoming too powerful for the peace lords. There was not a breath of wind but Frank felt a coolness run across his brow. Your transition has provoked him. Believe me, the Wretched will have nothing on you. Once Chin Chin is done with you, you will wish you were swimming in that abyss. The iceberg they were sitting on remained static and the sea around them continued to display its silent agony.

What Frank said next took Pink Guy completely by surprise. I want to return to what I once was. I want to go back. You are what you are and you must live the life that you now have.

Why does it have to be too late? The peace lords are still powerful. They might very well be forces for good. And what of the Ultimate God, whoever he is? Between them all, there must be a way.

Surely they can make me mortal again. They can stop my chromosomes from multiplying and return me to the life I had. And the whim of a rankenfile is no match for the will of a Lord.

You understand nothing. Leave that idea right now, I tell you. Leave it and have nothing more to do with it. Pink Guy rose with him. They passed along slippery narrow gullies with jagged icy daggers protruding at head height, and small stalagmite formations under foot.

The landscape would change in appearance but not nature. They walked along broad open glacier-like fields, climbed walls of glass and stepped down into bulky gorges.

Yet there was never a sound, nor a smell, nor a sense of fear or excitement. It was as though they were in their own bubble, separated from all other life and matter, all other sentiment and spirit. Whilst there was no point in staying put, there was, clearly no point in continuing either. Eventually Pink Guy spoke. No-one will find you there. They will come. They will find me.

But there is no more life ahead for me. My future ceases to exist here. And that would be a very dangerous state to be in. I could stay there until my chromosomes replenished and then move on. It made sense but it was not part of the plan. I need you to come with me. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Frank. I will recite the co- ordinates.

Pink Guy responded with a look that shook Frank to his very core. Who was this Pink Guy really? How did Frank know he could trust him? What if he were one of the lackeys of an evil peace lord? What if he were a peace lord? What if he were Chin Chin himself?

You would be bathing with our friends right there in the sea of infernal suffering. The life force flowed freely from the wound. He returned to Pink Guy who had already begun reciting the co-ordinates.

Over and over Pink Guy called the numbers and letters, louder and louder, with increasing zeal. Frank prepared for destruction. As Pink Guy continued to call, Frank continued to brace. On and on he called with a voice that rose up over the sea. It soon reached fever pitch, bursting with prolepsis. Then suddenly, he slumped. Frank began to move from his spot and as he did, he felt the squelch of soft ground beneath him. Indeed, the land outside the circle remained as hard as a diamond but the ground inside continued to soften and liquify.

The more they trod within the circle, the more pulpy the ground became until before long they were ankle deep in water. To hasten the process they began to jump up and down, being very careful to stay within the confines of the red band. Neither of them were aware of the rate at which they were sinking into the hole so suddenly being waist deep in water took them both by surprise. The greater shock came moments later when Frank found himself on his own, in near-total darkness, overtaken by torrents of water.

He was drowning. At first his sole awareness was of his impending death. Yet this fear was easily surpassed by the torment of the Wretched as he brushed by them. Souls of children long deceased, yet still perishing grabbed at his fingers and toes, begging for help, pleading for mercy, wailing and cursing, tossing about in their torment and laying hold of him.

They stared at him through empty eye sockets and wailed through stitched mouths. They would float by him, writhing and holding their bellies in agony as they inflated and then burst open. From the wound, new infants would ooze out before their bellies swelled and ruptured, and so the nightmare would go on.

Other babies, gliding with awkward flinches through the murkiness, would suddenly stop and then turn completely inside out. Muscle and bone would remain frailly bound together, but strings of intestines and sinew would be flung off into the swell.

As such, the current surrounding him was a thick amniotic soup. The infants were instinctively grabbing and gnawing on each other as they drifted about. Frank felt their agony. He felt their pain in all its forms and degrees.

His screams became bawls. He was conscious but of the sort that might accompany an out-of-body experience or an animated suspension. The first thing he perceived was that he was floating through an entirely new dimension - one of previously unknown physical qualities. He was free of gravity and completely weightless. His skin tingled as though he were being lightly caressed all over. The light around him was distorted in an other worldly way and made everything look soft and beautiful.

Pretty shadows and reflected lights danced around him. Time ceased to exist and a beautiful silence encapsulated him. For Frank, it was a rare, beautiful moment, shattered only by the realisation that he was floating face down in a swamp and about to choke. He rose from the waters, coughing and spluttering and retching and crying.

He needed a few moments to regain full awareness and when he did, misery was there with a comprehension that traveling between realms was like death and rebirth each time. He sat in the shallow water amidst a vast forest of mangroves.

Strips of seaweed fluttered in slow motion under the water, tickling his calves and wrapping around his toes. Small fish darted under and out of the roots of the trees. Occasionally, flat creatures with gill slits that looked like stab wounds, would hover over the sandy bed and slowly move away when Frank tried to kick them.

Frank was relieved to find familiar ecosystems in other realms. He stood to look about over the branches of the trees. The mangrove forest around him extended to the horizon in all directions but one. Above him was a sunless sky that sat hot and heavy like a bronze dome. Bat-like birds flew above and through the trees, which were infested with all manner of insects, spiders and giant winged arthropods. Pale, flakey-skinned snakes slithered quietly along branches and across the surface of the water.

To Frank, this place was eerily like the jungles of Okinawa on a bad day and moving through it brought bitter memories and an ominous sense that worse was to come.

Pink Guy was nowhere to be seen. It rose up and almost touched the rusty sky. The water he was wading through was never deeper than his waist so his only real challenge was avoiding the fauna, half of which scattered in fear as he approached and half of which moved toward him in the hope of enjoying a warm meal.

The last region of the mangrove was ankle deep so Frank made quick progress toward the amber fields. Just short of the shoreline he stopped and listened carefully.

An odd sound could be heard from nearby but then ceased. Frank waited patiently, listening and peering. He could see nothing. He had hoped that it might be Pink Guy. The sound came again, like a beast prancing on the spot in the muddy waters. Frank moved more closely toward it, trying to keep his sodden footsteps as quiet as possible. Again the sound came, wild and moist, through the low lying trees.

It was near now, a ferocious and juicy sound, and Frank felt a fresh nausea rise up within him. Peering through a leafy scrub on his left, he saw a white creature with a bulbous yellow head devouring the intestines of a still-conscious beast kicking in the shallow waters.

This creature looked like a warty lemon atop a thin radish. Frank kept his distance as the two sized each other up. Frank began to sense that this creature might actually be a complex soul imprisoned in its lemony shell. As he drew nearer, Frank got a better look at his counterpart.

Some lemons have a beautiful symmetry to them. This one did not. It was bulgy and lopsided and covered with pox and warts. Pure ugly. And the unattractiveness of the head was not helped by its eyes, which were vacuous and black, or the entrails of the organism dangling from the corners of its mouth.

Whatever intelligence may have been buried within, it held an overall countenance of retardation. The citrusy organism just stood there looking at him, utterly confused. Looks… pink. And sort of like… a guy. He took a few steps toward Lemon Man. He rolled back over to defend himself, kicking and occasionally punching, but the Lemon Man was too quick and too powerful.

Again and again Frank received the hard end of a warty lemon in the face; over and over it was pounded into his mouth, his eyes and for good measure, his groin, all to the accompanying sound of an animal in great distress. Frank was done. He had nothing left to fight this creature off. As the brown skies above him were about to dim to gray, he saw another white shape drop from a tree above him onto the Lemon Man.

The two of them formed a singular staggering, screaming beast, the white and yellow one on the bottom, bucking and convulsing in terrible distress, and the white and green one on the top holding on for dear life and calling out in an entirely different dialect. An odd-looking entity, he appeared unnervingly like a humanoid salamander. His body was slimy and white, while his head took a green amphibious form.

Frank opened his mouth to thank him for coming to his rescue but was cut off with a face palm. Immediately, the creature then produced - seemingly from nowhere - a recorder, placed it firmly in his left nostril and began to play a rousing rendition of an ancient tune. That was beautiful by the way. I wonder if you could play a few oom-pah-pah tunes for me later on.

The two of them walked out of the waters and along the dry shoreline, between the muddy banks of the mangrove to their left, and the hazy fields to their right. It was an odd series of gestures to accompany an introduction. They hastened toward it and as they drew nearer they could hear just how intense the howling was. Some creature was in terrible agony and Frank could only hope it was Lemon Man. Frank ran toward it with Salamander Man galloping right behind him.

Approaching it, Frank was able to see what he had been hearing and it filled him with horror. They had found Pink Guy. Still kicking and screaming, he had been noosed from the highest branch of a tree. Shadows passed in and out of his eyes and nose and ears and mouth and with each entering and exiting he shivered in pain and fright. Not an orifice was left untouched, nor a fear left unstoked. The rope choked the breath out of him as the shadows violated his spirit.

Pink Guy completely lost his coloring. Salamander Man was up the tree in a flash and produced - again seemingly from nowhere - a knife with which he cut the rope. Frank caught him as he fell, lay him on the ground and removed the noose from him. It took some time for Pink Guy to regain his composure. Salamander Man reproduced his recorder and began to play a soothing tune which cut through the stilling air.

As he did, the shadows retreated and a spirit of calm returned. He was familiar with the lemon folk. Trust me on this. I can sense it. It was beautiful. For a short while there, everything felt right with the omniverse and Frank was happy.

He was back to full cognition now. Frank reclined by the still waters. Frank looked at him. Always be vigilant, Frank. Always be on the watch. The creature in front of them was another humanoid, brown from head to foot, except for an enormous black afro on his head, black sunglasses and a huge set of white choppers in his mouth.

He looked very happy to see these three visitors. Could you say that again? Clearly, he was having a wonderful time. He was thrilled. He was starting to enjoy this communion.

Salamander Man turned to Frank. I want to speak your lingo. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet and pissing himself with joy. They spent the rest of the afternoon catching their supper, and the evening roasting it over an open flame. Frank recalled stories of Okinawa, slightly embellished for the telling, which Pink Guy occasionally interrupted with calls of cock and bull. Salamander Man played his flute whenever there was a lull in the conversation, which was rare because Negi Generation 4 talked virtually non-stop, pausing only to laugh at his own, rather fabulous eccentricities.

When he woke in the morning, the sky above him was a pale yellow and the higher foliage around him moved with the gentlest of breezes. Yet all around them, on the floor of the forest, on the canopies of the shrubs and the branches of the trees, sat ever so delicately, a sea of translucent spheres ranging in size from grape to watermelon. Despite the frivolity of the previous night and the peace he had found in the present company, Frank was gripped with alarm at the sight of these bubble-like apparitions.

He rapped Pink Guy on the foot. On waking, he immediately sat bolt upright and stared at the phenomena, deeply troubled by it.

His movement caused the others to wake and soon they were looking in bewilderment at this sea of enormous suds surrounding them. All were disturbed by it except for Negi Generation 4. He promptly strutted over to one and picked it up. He swallowed, his eyes sparkled, and then he let out a hearty burp.

Salamander Man, not sure if he had heard correctly, stuttered out his answer. He ventured over and lifted one of the opaque spheres from a leaf, sniffed it, and then popped it into his mouth. Sort of like a sticky strawberry gel but with a touch of honey. It was only Pink Guy, apparently, who had a moment of angst with the meal, having the misfortune to suck in a bubble that he said tasted rather like dog faeces.

He added very quickly that he had never actually tried dog faeces but that if he had, that is the taste sensation that he would very much have expected. His other circular jellies as he called them were very much to his liking, especially the largest one he consumed which he said reminded him of caramel ice cream. The days passed like this, yet it was unclear to any of them how long the days were and how many days or months or years they had been there.

They simply existed, as though in their own ageless sphere. Frank asked Pink Guy why this was so. By contrast, in realms where chromosomes were in scant supply, time was inferior to that of just about any other realm about it. At that very moment, the balderdash suddenly fell to the ground as rigid as a pole on an icy day.

Frank wondered what on earth it was that he had said to make him stiffen like that. Snap out of it! Snap out of it, son!

The three other entities stared at each other. Suddenly an entirely different vibe possessed them. Laughter, peace and levity were replaced with somberness, fear and gravity. Negi began to convulse.

It was just a quiver at first, but it grew quickly into fully fledged convulsions till he looked like a fish flopping about on dry land. With the spasms came a torrent of the same directives. Go up the mountain! And then he stopped. At first the others felt quite sure he was dead. There was no movement, no breathing, no life.

They slowly squatted around him and prepared to give him a solemn farewell. He looked curiously at his three companions.

It was clear to the others that Negi had no idea what had just transpired. Frank paused before answering. Just what I was going to say! Their discussion on the matter was a mere formality. They knew they had to ascend the mountain. They just had no idea why. The day was still young when they started off. None of them had gone up the mountain before so they were complete novices when it came to its terrain. As such, they made good progress.

The morning events continued to weigh on their minds so there was little discussion between them as they climbed. Negi Generation 4 picked up on this and he, too, remained uncharacteristically quiet. Walking in single file and with their eyes fixed toward the summit, none of them noticed the swarm of creatures coming out of the swamplands and mudflats and woodlands following them up the slopes. It was Pink Guy who first sensed their presence. They all paused and sat on a ledge to rest and looked back down the mountain.

There, while still at a considerable distance, was a multitude of creatures, great and small. They stopped when the four rankenfiles stopped, and continued when they continued.

They retreated when the rankenfiles turned toward them, and advanced irresistibly when they turned away. Sitting on a gentle rocky ledge surveying the distant mangroves below, Pink Guy explained this happening to the others. They can feel it. But he had no other explanation for what was happening, so kept his thoughts to himself for the time being. More creatures began emerging from the trees and grasslands. He was lying. He looked out over the landscape. A reptilian humanoid, he was a fearful sight.

His head was singed, a rusty distortion of what it had once been and its torso and upper limbs were burned beyond usefulness. Scorched flesh hung and dripped from its body in large chunks. But its most terrible trauma was to the lower half of its body, a charred mess of staggering legs, exposed organs and twisted tail.

He stumbled toward them. None of them moved. The wind picked up as he spoke and blew his stench toward them. It was Negi who took the first step. If we go with him we risk being condemned ourselves.

Have nothing to do with him. At this point they were more than half way up the mountain and the summit came into view. Yet as it did, the gusts of wind grew stronger, the sky began to gray a phenomena they had never seen in that place before and clouds began to form also something they had never previously seen there. They pressed on. The higher they climbed, the fiercer the winds became, the thicker the clouds were and the blacker the sky grew.

Each of them were aware, if not terrified, of the ominous implications of this atmosphere yet they each knew, without doubt, they had to scale the summit. Frank hoped that somehow in reaching the top, they would have satisfied some cosmic requirement and everything would return to normal. Pink Guy suspected something entirely more nefarious. Salamander Man and Negi Generation simply had the feeling that they were way out of their depth.

By the time they reached the summit it was completely shrouded in dark clouds. The wind blew in flurries, peels of thunder began to echo about them and a smell of burning filled the air.

Atmospheric conditions aside, there was a creepiness which none of them could source yet which they all sensed vividly, a sulphuric stench which sickened them. How to Download Follow Twitter. Francis of the Filth — The tiers are shifting. The omniverses are under attack. And only one man has the chromosomes to make things right.

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The tiers are shifting. The omniverses are under attack. And only one man has the chromosomes to make things right.