The Dark Man Calls
Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2005 11:55 pm
As you look over the cave bearing hill, you see a black hole, blacker than the entrance of the cave itself. It is so much like a tomb, like death. There is more to it than that. It goes beyond death. It is a reward, a reward for selling your lifeto it.
The black eye staring at you, the way it stares at many others, sets your inner feelings on fire. Your heart burns with desire. The thing you see, whatever it is, is something to lust for, something to kill for, something to steal for, something to hate for. You want it, and nothing else will get in your way. It belongs to you. The Black Flame burns within.
And living for it oh so glorius! It gives you the power you need to keep it going. Not only does it bring you power, but it brings out power you never knew you had. Your hatred fuels it. Everything you do for the Black Flame is at your own free will.
As you stare, there is some change in the black thing, a shift. You know you did not see it. At a sublimital level, you carry your eyes over to another, or it carries them for you. You find yourself looking at the face, well not quite, of a man cloked completely in black. His hood is up and he wears a mask, some kind of thin black fabric mask, you presume. Or maybe he has no face at all. Something tells you that there is nothing but hollow blackness underneath the clothing.
His voice speaks crisp in your head, impossible to ignore. Not even with a thousand trumpeting drunkards running around you with pink parasols would distract you from it. Come with me. Come with me across the sea. To the land of Nardora you will go. I am the one who makes you know.
The black eye staring at you, the way it stares at many others, sets your inner feelings on fire. Your heart burns with desire. The thing you see, whatever it is, is something to lust for, something to kill for, something to steal for, something to hate for. You want it, and nothing else will get in your way. It belongs to you. The Black Flame burns within.
And living for it oh so glorius! It gives you the power you need to keep it going. Not only does it bring you power, but it brings out power you never knew you had. Your hatred fuels it. Everything you do for the Black Flame is at your own free will.
As you stare, there is some change in the black thing, a shift. You know you did not see it. At a sublimital level, you carry your eyes over to another, or it carries them for you. You find yourself looking at the face, well not quite, of a man cloked completely in black. His hood is up and he wears a mask, some kind of thin black fabric mask, you presume. Or maybe he has no face at all. Something tells you that there is nothing but hollow blackness underneath the clothing.
His voice speaks crisp in your head, impossible to ignore. Not even with a thousand trumpeting drunkards running around you with pink parasols would distract you from it. Come with me. Come with me across the sea. To the land of Nardora you will go. I am the one who makes you know.