Post by Ikon on May 4, 2010 18:25:48 GMT -8
Your eyes close. Darkness envelopes you like a moist, heavy, and thick placenta. You try to open your eyes, to awaken, but you know it is too late. Before you lies a stone covered cave, shrouded by twisted and withered trees.
The stone moves aside. An impossible blackness awaits you. Fear washes over you in violent waves. Your animal instincts take hold of you, urging you to leave this foul place. As you turn to run, your feet betray you and you step inside.
A gentle and eerie glow emanates from around the bend. As you turn the corner you see a green dripping mucus bleeding out from the walls, this is the source of your light. It clings to the blackened stone in twisting rivulets like living things.
Then the whispers start. At first it is vague and directionless. You turn to see where it is coming from, and you find to your further dismay that the way out has been blocked by impossibly old stone and it too is bleeding green. In front of you lies the only path you can take. Something inside you says it is the only true path. Nowhere to turn nowhere to climb.
Forward, ever forward.
Beneath your feet lie the scattered remains of those who have come before. Teeth and bones crackle beneath your step. Releasing their ancient marrow, which crumbles to dust and scatters into the eldritch light. It fills the widening chamber with a stale, and sickly scent. You hold your breath, but you find that the dust of the dead is like air to you. Your lungs fill with Death and decay, and still you cannot wake. You sputter and cough. Retching, you further defile this unholy place.
The ground becomes wet, a dark and viscous liquid coats the ground like a film of mucus along the inside of a bloated beast. A sick sounding smack reverberates through the corridor as you descend deeper.
Deeper, Ever Deeper.
in exordium illic eram Nusquam. Totus res mos reverto ut nusquam.. A vicis venit ut matris eram pulsatus per Diabolus Incarnatus. Caries eram increpo per lux lucis.
Atrum manus manus of Abbas subsisto. Illa es manuum of Diabolus Incarnatus.
Ut Garou reverto , is mos excito sursum. Obscurum mos constupro panton. Sit Filius of Wyrm. Sit Pectus pectoris of Obscurum. Parvulus ero suus sperma. fructus of suus nemus ero nex.
The Words reverberate into you. Cascading through your mind like echoes of every loss, every wound. A crescendo of suffering which ends in truth. The Wyrm is your savior. He can end the pain.
Your head swims from the assault on all of your senses. Your flesh remembers the touch of lovers lost, never to be held again.
Your heart Aches with the betrayal of your friends, your pack.
Your hair tingles as you recall the caress of a parent, never to be talked to again.
All of these things have been taken from you. The path of Gaea is a path of suffering. The Path of the Wyrm brings the end of pain. Precious, eternal release.
The Mysteries come again. The knowledge of the Dark Father Consumes you. As the cacophony of arcane and lost whispers resounds within your soul you feel the floor of the gloomy green chamber give way. As you sink into the dank and syrupy wetness You feel your bare flesh penetrate this swelling and damp chamber of ancient and acheronian evil.
You plummet into a blackened nothing. Tendrils of the darkest night envelope you in their Nocturnal embrace. With deep and loving caresses the filaments of darkness wash over you. The cadence of their affection increases until even your pores open to the wisdom they hold. Blackness rushes past your flesh into the recesses of your mind.
Once the darkness and you become one you feel something as if for the first time. Joy. A completeness that makes any memory of happiness seem but an inferior and fragile replica. Your entire life you have been alone. In very lucky moments you found someone to share that loneliness with. Now for the first time you are whole.You feel your flesh give way, scattered like motes of dust into a coming storm. You melt into the loving embrace of Darkness.
Surrender. Surrender. You belong to us.
Images flash through your mind. Visions of a great and furious hand penetrating the umbra seeking the end to it's madness. Only to be severed by Gaea and her children. As the Talons of this tenebrous hand fall to the ground, it's Talons survive. They Scattered across the flesh of Gaea waiting for the day they would ascend to their rightful place beside their father.
You see envision a lone hunter seeking food for his mate, and his Sept.
He comes to this very cave. Days later he leaves the darkness of the cave with a red fury in his eyes and a malevolent smile on his lips. Years later several packs of Garou hunt him down in his cave and slay his body with the sacrifice of their lives, but his essence remained. You know you are the Key. He is anchored here and now because of you, he is returning, because you are the beacon with which he guides his return.
Your skin and muscle return to their form in ropey ribbons of meat. The darkness is ripped away from your mind as you reform into the pain ridden husk that Gaea made for you. You feel yourself rise as you leave the Wyrm's embrace emptiness rushes in to take it's place.
Your eyes break open to the daylight, and suffering awaits. The details of the dream quickly fade, leaving you with a haunted feeling that there is a cure for your pain.
