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 Horizons of Chaos

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Othragon Rotarm

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Posts : 361
Join date : 2009-11-15
Age : 33
Location : Portugal

PostSubject: Horizons of Chaos   Mon Aug 23, 2010 12:57 pm

The old man would not move a muscle. Sitting close to the shimmering fire, his silhouette a petrified statue defiant of the howling desert winds.

Ghosts. Spirits. Apparitions.

The fire is no more, the wind has claimed it. Still there is light in this particular patch of desert. There is no moon tonight however.

Footsteps. The subtle dislocation of air and its barely audible effect.

The old man speaks:

Come closer, young one.

Shyly at first, she does so, sitting close to the ember.

The old man is wise, and very old. He looks to the Tanaris night sky, and wonders why the mask of shame takes over the youngling. He does not speak this time, but she hears him.

And bursts into a convulsive cry, filled with tears were she not dry from within.

He nods, resigned, and once again his deep voice is heard.

The fears of mortality must be forgotten. Existance and nonexistance are coagulating in you.

No longer living for death, no longer dying to live.


She sobs, the words coming out in a frantic pace

There was no warning...

There were plenty. But no one bothered to read them. And now, the lingering death...

She stands up, crying and screaming at the old man:

But, if one could cut the source of the flow, eveything would change!

Wrong. The phantasm of your mind might be calling you to go, but what you need now is to defy the forgotten morals, where the victim is the prey...

She blinks at him... lost.

The old man begins to emanate a dim light, his voice aquiring a much darker resonance

On the peaks of radiant mountains, this truth has grown before me: your wound is self consuming, ever present, meeting no end.

You cannot stomach these forms and colors anymore, yet you are here to continue. You are the factories newest product, daughter of serialized slaughter. Perfect body, fractured soul, in post organic form appeared.


But... how can this mean anything to me... if i really don't feel a thing at all?

Her voice a faint whisper, his a solid tone.

"The dark will rise.
Abandon your freedom.
Give up the right to find your true self.
Forsake your own reasons."

... Is this what he told you?


She freezes, her eyes widened beyond limit

Rage from a distant... the name unfamiliar...

Silence. Then a laugh.

This world is headed for destruction. Everything will be washed away. Listen now, to my song...


A background hum rises from an unknown source, and the old man begins to chant...

The prophets of death have left you solace indeed...
A zombie of the Banshee insane with his belief

It's all that you know and all you take as you go
You're one with the dead but only take from the slow...

Wiping out masses just for shits and a grin
It's all an illusion of the spell that you're in...

Without further word, the old man has vanished.
The fire is now alit once again, and Hazabel stares at it, a hollow shell.
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