It Remains Chapter: Walkers

#
#

MANIFESTO

Born from the team's passion for art and technology, the BEYOND DYSTOPIAN universe of "It Remains" aims to revolutionize the way the craft of storytelling is being promoted, distributed and created across new age mediums and audiences, through collaboration and innovation.

Collectors will have the chance to own fine quality artwork - actual pieces from a complex story, already two years in the making. The decentralized franchise will be governed by the community of NFT holders, they will have voting rights over major decisions related to the future endeavors of "It Remains" Including development on the metaverse, games and animated series.

The first act of the Graphic novel "It Remains" will be published after minting of the genesis collection concludes. The book will come in text, graphics and audio format.

THE GRAPHIC NOVEL

This skin we walk on, it is an old one, even for a world...
The Great Grind, its father had called it. The noise from the feet of the world, dragging along light, dragging it into dark, and then dark back into light. When the Grind goes quiet, the Walk ends and there is no tomorrow, its father told, there is no thing other than Yellow. For what stops is beyond sleeping or dead. What stops to sleep is dead or half-dead, and the dead do not stop, they move with the rest, against the current. What stops the dead is only Yellow. The Grind ends in Yellow and from it, the Great calls out, longing for what remains.

Addings

It smelled like something it knew but knew not its name. Or its place. Or its voice. It knew its smell. Knew it like it knew to walk or to break bone. The smell was intense but not unpleasant. Familiar. Like a father or an old Adding. Something that was not after the Eats and Moists in its bones, or the Addings to its flesh.

Not yet away, anyway. Something dear… Some.. thing… caring… It knew better than to breath the smell for long. Yellow smell is not to be trusted. It comes from a mouth that wants more than flesh, sand or bone. It comes from where everywhere everything goes.

Kickless

It smelled like something it knew but knew not its name. Or its place. Or its voice. It knew its smell. Knew it like it knew to walk or to break bone. The smell was intense but not unpleasant. Familiar. Like a father or an old Adding. Something that was not after the Eats and Moists in its bones, or the Addings to its flesh.