Incanus
Posts: 15971
Joined: 23/7/2008 From: Winterfell
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...a cloaked figure appeared out from the misty gloom of the darkest night, a phantom made out of the pure essence of dread, something or someone whose evil presence you could feel approaching though your senses would refuse to register out of sheer terror. The figure marched up menacingly to nvh with barely audible footsteps that left no tracks on the humid ground. Nvh stood still, flooded with fear. Two bright pinpoints of crimson light burned beneath the figure's tattered hood in empty sockets where eyes should have been. A gaunt, skeletal face of withered flesh stretched tight across horribly visible skull bone came to the dim light of the street lamp. Decay and corruption moved before the hateful creature and a stench of rotten flesh followed in its wake. A gust of wind seemed suddenly to arise from around the figure, taking up the sound of a million voices from Hell, and a single question could be heard, deep, solemn, threatening, distant and yet not so, all so close and disconcerting: "Where... ...is... ...the... ...Post Office?" Nvh felt a warm feeling of relief (or perhaps it was just the warmth of her/his urine soaking her/his pants) as she/he prepared to give directions. "By the way," the figure went on, "you are aware I am actually Incanus and you just lost the Box, right? Oh, and here, have your arm back," and Incanus gave nvh her/his arm back, that arm that used to hold the tightest of grips up till some moments ago on the Box. "I had no choice but to rip it apart, a most embarrassing option; you should know for future reference, we never hold ton o the Box for dear life --oh the irony-- or else one might lose an arm...or two; it's been known to happen, mutilation, always a messy business." With that, Incanus was lifted up in the air in a twister of dirt and vanished as suddenly as he had appeared. Nvh stood stupefied, staring at her/his severed arm in apprehension, considering having pancakes and maple syrup for breakfast.
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WINTER IS COMING T h e 2 4 t h F r a m e . c o . u k Cuiva Olorin Narendur. Tira nottolya Tulta tuolya. An mauya mahtie Ter oiomornie Ter ondicilyar Mettanna. Nurunna!
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