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The Frequency Of The Cycle

by Cyberquales

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1.
Cyberpunk Synth 02:07
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2.
Neonis Funeralis 09:44
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3.
Fur Aliens 03:23
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4.
Murmur Futur 02:56
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5.
Lunarintroid 02:06
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6.
Depression Implant 07:02
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7.
Chromatorium 03:36
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8.
GAOT 05:23
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9.
ZRES 02:22
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10.
Dark Cyberthrone 04:28
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11.
FRODH 01:44
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about

This is an atmospheric symbiosis of cybrepunk synth and dark ambient, I would describe this as cybernetic underground ambient, built on graceful synthesizers.
The album is also based on the story "The Frequency of the Cycle"

"The Frequency of the Cycle"
writer Lovidalf Ranemmak VI
(story written December 12, 2020)

It began to dawn quite a bit, neon light mixed with the young sun fell as rays on small fox antennae, which, from this, began to glow funny. Claude pushed aside the Skyrot's dashboard and poured himself a cold coffee.
“If you only knew Reinecke that was under us, you would not doze for yourself, like a cat on a featherbed,” Claude said quietly, stroking the sleeping fox in his lap. In turn, the fox just yawned sweetly and lay flat on his master without making a sound. On the street, with every second the sun was opening up space for itself, illuminating those dark corners of the streets, which were barely visible in the distant light of neon advertising signs. Claude finished his coffee and had just decided to start Skyrot when he heard loud bangs, more like firecrackers than gunshots. Deftly jumping out of the vehicle, he clung to the ground, holding Reinecke in one hand, and an eleven-millimeter cannon in the other.
The perimeter was clear, but the claps were distinctly getting closer and closer to Claude's Skyrot. Together with the fox in his hands, Claude hastily crawled under his technique, which was not turned on and stood on the fronhaths. The fox started to sneeze loudly, but did not get out of his hands, only sniffed and smacked warily.
- Run behind those bushes, you hear red, - pushing in the right direction, Claude got rid of Reinecke and began to shoot in the direction where the enemy could presumably be. Bullets pierced the black void, one that the morning light had not yet reached. The blasting stopped, but the tense anxiety remained. Then, Claude climbed out from under the skyrot and looked around. The platform on which they were all was in laser potholes, the equipment was partially affected, but not in the main mech-water compartments, the control cabin was armored, including from laser damage, so it did not suffer. It seemed that only the perplexed fox was frightened, but it only seemed, for the glorious red-haired wretch, he had been in much more cruel troubles and adventures. Claude scanned the area from Skyroth and, grabbing a Creo-shotgun, headed to the darkest place where the descent was hidden under the ground. The fox, dusting himself off and looking around, followed his companion.
“This is how we are greeted, with open arms, of a laser bot,” Claude said with a grin. - Very hospitable, you will not say anything.
They descended looking around and peering into the pitch darkness. Illuminating his pat with the underbarrel flashlight of the creo-shotgun, Claude kept it at gunpoint, just in case, although it was obvious to him that the laser drone had worked on a timer on purpose, and now there was hardly anyone there. Moving in the basement catacombs, over which stood their Skyrot, there was a feeling that these were long-abandoned sewers, the stench was such that both watery eyes.
- And here is our old friend, - said Claude and deploying the protective barrage of the bot, opened access to it. - Not a bad box, though ancient as a cybergurl shit, but still deadly. Opening the drone, Claude pulled out the fuses and discharged the laser projectiles so that they would not detonate in the future.
Behind the fencing of the bot, a massive bunker door could be seen, and it seemed as if the smell had become so strong that our travelers were about to suffocate.
The door was locked, so it seemed impossible to open it, but the creo-shotgun solved this problem every second by creating a huge hole in the multilayered iron.
They went inside slowly, it was already clear that the smell increased a hundred times, came from here. Claude illuminated the walls with a lantern, where he saw dismembered women and children nailed to makeshift wooden crosses. A picture of fear, the entrails and severed limbs of the unfortunate were scattered everywhere.
There was practically no air, and Claude, seizing the fox, soon headed to the surface. One thing did not fit in my head, how it was possible to drag so many people into this fetid cell without witnesses. According to Claude's approximate calculations, there are less than ten human bodies below, and this is only visible at a quick glance, since it is without special equipment, it is just deadly to breathe cadaveric fumes.
“This is one of the few times when I regret not having my olfactic implants installed,” Claude said with utter indignation and climbed into the skyrot.
- It was necessary to immediately take gas masks with you, and not wait for the morning, the guard of this monster, over his lair. Eh, I have not learned in my thirty years of caution.
Claude started up with his skyrot and with a cryogenic hiss of the engine, rising into the air, rushed into the sky, deafening the morning idyll of death and the sickening smells of a terrible place.
- Sergeant Fouché Mil, welcome! - came from the skyphone. - Yes, Sergeant Claude Fouché Mil is in touch! I am working on the area, a bunker was discovered, as expected, there are victims, send a group of sepulcrums and investigators ...

TO BE CONTINUED!

released March 20, 2021

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released March 20, 2021

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ROTER WEG STUDIOS image

ROTER WEG STUDIOS Gutenstetten, Germany

Roter Weg is the path of blood, war and destruction.
All heroic music from medieval songs to epic black metal is about war!
Therefore, Roter Weg is the path of a bloody trail, of warriors who have won a victory and heroically narrate about it. ... more

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