The unending sun burns the unsleeping Grand Exchange of Varrock, merchants, thieves and the afflicted festering in the dense air, the sickly sweet smell of magic and ash, enchanters, craftsmen and artisans all omitting their scent, burning up into an atmospheric layer that permeates around the surrounding area, inviting tired travellers, poor peasants, and men of dishonest business, like starved sailers lulled to the sirens call, madness is in the air.
A hooded man with a crooked body leans in the marketplace, his aged broken body held together through some unknown means, the smell of bone and something so unfamiliar leaks from beneath his robes, the tightly packed crowd avoids him as if he were a deep ocean ready to drown and swallow anything that got caught in it's tide. He creaks as he stands, his faceless gaze an anomaly in the ordered chaos of the marketplace.
Beneath the man is neither a shadow nor a reflection on the damp stone, but a patch of darkness that beneath him moves, shimmering in cold ripples of black wet, thin lines like hair shattering the floor around him, the cracks moving, from one person to the next. Little insects that spawn from beneath the mans robes and radiate around him, they crawl up merchants, craftsman, enchanters, unafflicted by their magic, flames or attention, they whisper in the ears of men and women.
Those who hear the whispers of the faceless man go cold, silent, and in the dense crowd, are lost and never seen again. Under a trance the crowd is helpless, wandering like a hive of godless, motherless insects eating themselves. The faceless man cackles.
In the crowd a merchant stumbles over an artefact, and all of a sudden his trance is broken, colour fills his eyes as he gazes down at the object of unspeakable horror, his mind no longer empty, is freed in an explosion of horror, his mind unable to process the images and sounds in his head, the yellow sign eating his consciousness and drowning his mind in madness*
- IGN's - k o r e , Zoahk - Secure yourself with
A hooded man with a crooked body leans in the marketplace, his aged broken body held together through some unknown means, the smell of bone and something so unfamiliar leaks from beneath his robes, the tightly packed crowd avoids him as if he were a deep ocean ready to drown and swallow anything that got caught in it's tide. He creaks as he stands, his faceless gaze an anomaly in the ordered chaos of the marketplace.
Beneath the man is neither a shadow nor a reflection on the damp stone, but a patch of darkness that beneath him moves, shimmering in cold ripples of black wet, thin lines like hair shattering the floor around him, the cracks moving, from one person to the next. Little insects that spawn from beneath the mans robes and radiate around him, they crawl up merchants, craftsman, enchanters, unafflicted by their magic, flames or attention, they whisper in the ears of men and women.
Those who hear the whispers of the faceless man go cold, silent, and in the dense crowd, are lost and never seen again. Under a trance the crowd is helpless, wandering like a hive of godless, motherless insects eating themselves. The faceless man cackles.
In the crowd a merchant stumbles over an artefact, and all of a sudden his trance is broken, colour fills his eyes as he gazes down at the object of unspeakable horror, his mind no longer empty, is freed in an explosion of horror, his mind unable to process the images and sounds in his head, the yellow sign eating his consciousness and drowning his mind in madness*
- IGN's - k o r e , Zoahk - Secure yourself with
Comprehensive Account Security
by Salubrious
26-May-2015 18:42:19 - Last edited on 26-May-2015 18:43:24 by Kurumukis