| Latest Posts | Unusual Times
I can't bring my self to believe in discarnated spyrits.
I am haunted by too man'a things of tangibility t'make room for such certainties. But, so it is told, ghost figures keep on existing wether you take them for granted orrent. Tho, if at t'moment you should be leaning the ghastly veil of your unmaking over my shoulder t'read below candle the words I've layed about how your existence came t'cease, bear in mynd that, if not kind, I am at least impartial in my account of your fall.
AN INTRODUCTION - Year of Eeries
_____ The kings have grown weary, wars have fallen asleep and now the soldiers are doubting their ways. Heroes are resting, the babies are sick-looking and their mothers grow old. The wine has lost its taste and the flesh its appeal. All astral things are greying and our cities are rotten. Our lands have shifted, they are not themselves anymore. A new era leaves its mark. A claw of lichen has drawn bleaker days across the calendar. Where has meaning gone, we wonder in silence. We are the voices of the silent ones. The ones who sit and gulp down insipid ale, never acting but always remembering, wondering. Wondering... 'Who are the unsilent ones? And why haven't they spoken yet?'.
USUAL SPACES - Early Year of Eeries
_____ ___ 𝐁 𝐄 𝐅 𝐎 𝐑 𝐄 . 𝐄 𝐄 𝐑 𝐈 𝐄 𝐒 𝐓 ___ Allev'yate - [ Centre of culture, excitement and haven of adventurers, the City used to draw travellers in by its majesty, refinement and mysteries. It now draws travellers in by confusion and disorientation, and rarely relaxes its grasp. What was yesterday a wonder perpetually rediscovered thanks to its maze-like nature is now a chaotic nightmare of streets devouring alleys and ever-expanding walls breaking into stairs leading nowhere. ] _ Middle-of-the-Face - [ This small circle of wood and stone that forms a farming town surrounded by fields is now filled with an emptiness that seems almost unpenetrable. The farmers have gone. Some still sit, talk, but they too are gone, in a way. ] _ Ever'nearyng - [ Once sprawling with riches and consumers alike, this capital of pleasure and forgetfulness, this 'stone-built cornucopia', is now the refuge of unwilling drunkards and madmen. A self-made prison for the uncertain and the guilty, where the meats hang, tasteless, on rusted hooks, the wines have grown sour, and balloon-like cheeks now hang, flaccid, on exhausted faces. ] ___ 𝐒 𝐈 𝐓 𝐓 𝐈 𝐍 𝐆 . 𝐀 𝐂 𝐑 𝐎 𝐒 𝐒 . 𝐄 𝐄 𝐑 𝐈 𝐄 𝐒 𝐓 ___ Old Absence - [ An ancient town cut in two by the forest. Last news of it tell of the struggle of local priests permanently setting fire to the pale trees to keep them from devouring the rest of Old Absence. ] _ Midlandyngs - [ The plains have turned into something different. This is not evident to the eye, but anyone can feel it. ] ___ 𝐁 𝐄 𝐘 𝐎 𝐍 𝐃 . 𝐄 𝐄 𝐑 𝐈 𝐄 𝐒 𝐓 ___ The Ghostal - [Delimiting the Eeriest, the forest extends. Pale trunks and branches cross, walked mostly by ill-llooking rodents. Made of weak trees spreading like plague, the Ghostal is never pushed back for long, and rarely explored.] _ The Funaryelles - [ Those who have walked the coast since it shifted swear it now gathers no ships but Death's. Their lips soon grow heavy when they try to explain themselves further. ] Please log in to add a comment. |
"That, ish all I can shee."
"I'll be damned if I know what that means."
"I'll be damned anyway. Sho I might aj well know."
- Scabreux and Triste-Seer