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» For What It's Worth (Adanedhel's Story)
Tue Jul 04, 2017 10:38 pm by The Sub-Creator

Halloween kidnapping

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Halloween kidnapping

Post  The Sub-Creator on Thu Sep 29, 2011 11:25 pm

Throughout the whole of Golarion, for a duration no longer than the blink of an eye, the Dark Tapestry envelopes the world. When the darkness unrecognized subsides, the instant fear known by a world's population disappears without a lingering thought . . . save for a select few.

For those chosen by the alien son and brother, the nightmare of an age holds them tight in its grasp, forbidding them freedom from a haunting image in their mind. A grinning skull with shackles for tears hangs silent and transparent in the swallowing black about them. Somewhere in the unseen the tinkle of adamantine chains can be heard laughing--or screeching--at their collective helplessness.

The selected stood erect and unmoving in circular groups of six, their drying eyes able to take in the fluid sable melting and swirling like living ichor about them. A pool of crimson blood laps at their toes in the midst of each group, eager to sup the life essence from their bodies. After long moments of painful waiting, a disembodied voice akin to knife points screeching across steel fills the emptiness.

"The Tomb is your lives' pursuits; the Horror fuels your lives. Acererak waits to lick at your souls for eternity, to accept your sanity as a gift, to turn your strengths into your weaknesses, to weave your tactics into a cloak that will snuff out all hope.

"Enter without choice. Enter as the Elders dictate. Watch until beckoned. Rest within and die. Succeed in finding the final path and all who remain may leave."

As the horror speaks its final syllable, each group reduces by one, and the blood takes on a mirror-like sheen to reveal a low, flat-topped hill about 200 yards wide and 300 yards long protruding from the earth. Ugly weeds, thorns, and briars grow upon the steep sides and bald top of the 60-foot high mound. Black rocks crown the hilltop.

The north side of the hill is fronted by a 20-foot-high crumbling cliff of sand and gravel. A low stone ledge overhangs this eroded area.

Sixty feet farther to the north, adventurers who recently occupied a space amongst them examine their surroundings . . .

This is my word, and, as such, is beyond contestation.

The Sub-Creator

Posts : 512
Join date : 2009-09-19

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