The Decagon - part 3
The Razor God screams forth, broken free of its shackles once again!
give me your fears, your doubts, your suspicions...
the floodgates are torn asunder, its vicious saline payload has poisoned the inhabitants of the nearby upstanding towns (the citizens gasp with both terror and amazement).
The bodies of the victims rise yet again! Mere mockeries of their former selves! Rational thought consumed now by bloodlust!
the ring of the telephone drives forth a volley of living projectiles into the brainstem; they fester and grow at an alarming rate.
the telephone is a lie. all words which spew forth from its violation-holes must not be trusted...
Feed us, feed us! Trembling lips reroute power from the nostalgia plant! The bodies of the murdered lovers will do! It was a murder suicide! In an alleyway lined with unwanted corpses!
half truths and lies trade fire among the rubble of a bombed out trust fortification; the truth gathers her children with a tender hand and runs for the border, only to be gunned down like an animal.
stand your ground. know that this will never end. this will never heal...
Vile happiness-creatures slink out of their lairs to feed on the corpses of the deceased! They feed on thoughts of those once living! They howl with pain as their neural circuitry is reconfigured in a most grotesque of manners!
the telephone ring, previously thought of as a threat, is now, like so many other things, a thing of bliss; a half-forgotten memory preferable in all ways to silence.
the betrayer has been betrayed. now is your chance to strike. make your own pain the pain of others...
The hand-picked murder squad scours the hedonist sex den in search of deviants! They discover a trap door! The source lies within reach! The Razor God is pleased!
a disembodied voice chitters madly; armed with the dirty secret hidden behind a trap door, it makes its way to the abandoned mines; it tells itself: "I'm so glad this is here."
my awakening is nearly complete. this will be the purge...
The vampire hunter corners his prey! He painfully "murders" his victim with cruel silver cutting instruments! Bleed! Bleed! Bleed!
a hidden vein pulses repulsively in the darkest reaches of the abandoned mine. An L Soldier aims his rifle and fires.
make them hurt like they hurt you. if they do not bend and break, they are dead to you.
The crowd roars wildly with each explosion! Red Tide mollusks shiver with delight! Photographers print photos under the sick glow of the new red sun!
the maddening screams make all reflex saves impossible; the attacker's hit points are dwindling.
you have proven yourself worthy. this is the easiest way. it always will be.
The Razor God slumbers once again! His insignia carved into the rotting flesh of the undead!
give me your fears, your doubts, your suspicions...
the floodgates are torn asunder, its vicious saline payload has poisoned the inhabitants of the nearby upstanding towns (the citizens gasp with both terror and amazement).
The bodies of the victims rise yet again! Mere mockeries of their former selves! Rational thought consumed now by bloodlust!
the ring of the telephone drives forth a volley of living projectiles into the brainstem; they fester and grow at an alarming rate.
the telephone is a lie. all words which spew forth from its violation-holes must not be trusted...
Feed us, feed us! Trembling lips reroute power from the nostalgia plant! The bodies of the murdered lovers will do! It was a murder suicide! In an alleyway lined with unwanted corpses!
half truths and lies trade fire among the rubble of a bombed out trust fortification; the truth gathers her children with a tender hand and runs for the border, only to be gunned down like an animal.
stand your ground. know that this will never end. this will never heal...
Vile happiness-creatures slink out of their lairs to feed on the corpses of the deceased! They feed on thoughts of those once living! They howl with pain as their neural circuitry is reconfigured in a most grotesque of manners!
the telephone ring, previously thought of as a threat, is now, like so many other things, a thing of bliss; a half-forgotten memory preferable in all ways to silence.
the betrayer has been betrayed. now is your chance to strike. make your own pain the pain of others...
The hand-picked murder squad scours the hedonist sex den in search of deviants! They discover a trap door! The source lies within reach! The Razor God is pleased!
a disembodied voice chitters madly; armed with the dirty secret hidden behind a trap door, it makes its way to the abandoned mines; it tells itself: "I'm so glad this is here."
my awakening is nearly complete. this will be the purge...
The vampire hunter corners his prey! He painfully "murders" his victim with cruel silver cutting instruments! Bleed! Bleed! Bleed!
a hidden vein pulses repulsively in the darkest reaches of the abandoned mine. An L Soldier aims his rifle and fires.
make them hurt like they hurt you. if they do not bend and break, they are dead to you.
The crowd roars wildly with each explosion! Red Tide mollusks shiver with delight! Photographers print photos under the sick glow of the new red sun!
the maddening screams make all reflex saves impossible; the attacker's hit points are dwindling.
you have proven yourself worthy. this is the easiest way. it always will be.
The Razor God slumbers once again! His insignia carved into the rotting flesh of the undead!