inherit
10
0
Jan 17, 2019 22:10:26 GMT
4
blacknoise
I don't have kik.
273
Aug 14, 2015 15:19:56 GMT
August 2015
blacknoise
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Post by blacknoise on Nov 4, 2015 21:05:05 GMT
#fortrash.
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inherit
10
0
Jan 17, 2019 22:10:26 GMT
4
blacknoise
I don't have kik.
273
Aug 14, 2015 15:19:56 GMT
August 2015
blacknoise
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Post by blacknoise on Nov 4, 2015 21:10:00 GMT
A single, solitary door stood frameless in the darkness. Nothing could be seen for miles in all directions, there stood only the door. Marked with thorns and with no handle, the door was less menacing and more repulsive. Touching it, much less finding a way to open it and see what was inside, was likely the last thing anyone in their right mind would want to do. But there was no choice in the manner, not in this realm.
Pushing open the door, the first thing greeting the entrants would be the gentle, plinking and plonking of an old music box, and impenetrable darkness. Through squinting eyes, shapes begin to form in the darkness. Thousands of arms grasping a massive music box slowly turn and twist the handle, writhing like a thousand long snakes. They have no end, nor do they have a defined point of origin. They simply churn, hiss, and grasp eternally at the invisible notes floating through the air as they are created.
Turn to leave, but the door is gone. In its place, a great river flows and rages in silence. Its waters are murky, but a thousand dead faces can be seen staring back up. Their mouths perpetually open in screaming, look forever to the surface, just out of reach. Even though they blink, they seem more dead than a bleached skeleton. Get away from the river, its waters flow up, reaching towards the unsuspecting, pulling demon, monster, and unsuspecting entrant alike into its cold flow.
Turn, run, now the entrants are followed. Grinding teeth, thumping footsteps, scratching claws, all seek out the intruder. Monsters from the darkest imagination, horrific images you wish you could forget, claw their way towards the invader. Outside is in as inside becomes out, little skittering feet pull from the throat, dragging their way back up. Blood pumps out of the body, seeping down, dripping down, flowing down.
Stop. A grave, larger than life, sits untouched before you. A hundred swords of a hundred fallen warriors mark the territory. The inscription cannot be read. A voice speak out, small and unassuming.
"You are not worthy."
One more, large and powerful.
"Begone."
Gone. Claws tear, teeth bite, the intruder's flesh is torn to shreds by a thousand invisible hands. Run. Tearing biting clawing hurting!! Don't trip, don't slip, holes rip the ground asunder all around. Their depth cannot be measured, fall in and fall forever. A door, an exit, a glimmer of hope in a great darkness. Too little, too late.
Push, shove, slip, fall. Falling falling falling, when will it end, will it hurt when the landing comes? Yes it will, yes it does. Every bone is broken, the intruder cannot move, there is no more reason to live. As black, thorny brambles reach up towards the invader, a single black rose blooms. The intruder will not wake up, he belongs to the Dark One now.
Another one is claimed.
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inherit
10
0
Jan 17, 2019 22:10:26 GMT
4
blacknoise
I don't have kik.
273
Aug 14, 2015 15:19:56 GMT
August 2015
blacknoise
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My dump
Jan 19, 2016 20:40:41 GMT
via mobile
Post by blacknoise on Jan 19, 2016 20:40:41 GMT
Children of Timore.
"It wasn't that he loved us, rather, it's as if he remembered that he should."
A supposedly long extinct species, the Children of Timore appear only in the oldest of legends as vengeful forest spirits, killing all who enter their domain. They are said to be violent, evil beings who were created by Timore in the early days of the world to spread his fear. Entire forests would go untouched, great swathes of land were left alone, and the places of the world that humans could inhabit were few without angering one of these spirits. Therefore, a very large campaign was raged by the budding mages of the world to eliminate them. They were remarkably successful, and the Children of Timore were made almost completely extinct.
Almost all knowledge, and it's not much, that pertains to the Children of Timore is on how to kill them. No one ever learned what they were, why they were, or what their purpose was.
In the earliest days, Timore sought to imitate Den, and decided to create a race of his own. He created a loving, kindly race of forest faes who would guard the nice places of the world and take good care of them. However, shortly after their creation, something changed. The powers of Timore left them, and they turned very violent and very angry. Some burned the very forests they were supposed to protect, even more withdrew into isolation, only coming out to attack humans who sought to colonize their homes.
Isolated creatures, the Children of Timore utilize magic to keep themselves alive for thousands upon thousands of years in complete isolation. They stay sane by forgetting everything they do on an almost day to day basis. Although it is more a forced memory loss than anything, it allowed them to find wonder in almost everything they saw. Their bodies do not age past that of small children, and they possess no capability to reproduce. When a Child of Timore dies, there will never be a replacement.
Although extremely powerful magically, but naturally innocent, these creatures would normally not instigate fights unless they felt threatened. They are contented with simple things, and possess very low capacities for ambition. Exceedingly emotional, they have to constantly keep themselves in a happy 'high.' Otherwise, if they allow themselves to be depressed for long, they may never be happy again. Despite their great abilities, they are easily hurt and take a very long time to heal.
They tend to dress in patchwork animal skins and make jewelry of common stones for fun. Living in small, underground burrows, they will hibernate through the summer and awaken in the fall to begin taking care of the creatures of the forest. Seeing one of these creatures is incredibly rare, and sighing are often dismissed as just normal, wild children. But it is known that where there's one, there won't be another for at least a few hundred miles.
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inherit
10
0
Jan 17, 2019 22:10:26 GMT
4
blacknoise
I don't have kik.
273
Aug 14, 2015 15:19:56 GMT
August 2015
blacknoise
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Post by blacknoise on Mar 20, 2016 23:06:55 GMT
Holly A work in progress
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