Post by Myriad on Sept 15, 2022 18:58:27 GMT -8
"The embers of the Phoenix that is Gabriel Ohio, rose once more from the ashes from which he was last burned.
Once again, it’s heartbeat can be felt once more as the beast calls to us.
Yes, it calls us, one at a time.
And yes…I used the word “It” deliberately.
Once the hand of the demon grips your soul there will be no escape.
Like zombies, commanded to return to the battleground by the insanity of the Liche that binds them. Please settle yourselves down by the fire, let this bard tell you his tale.
A tale of wonder, evil and carnage.
Put yer young ‘uns to bed for this tale if not to be heard by the ears of the innocent, for there be nightmares born if they hear but a word of it.
For those who dare to listen, I fare thee fair warning, his name will be whispered among the shadows once more.
Some things are better left buried and forgotten…"
Darkness.
Dark.
Drip drip drip.
The sound of leaky pipes gently kiss the eardrum. The darkness is briefly repelled as a light bulb allows but a brief moment of respite with a flicker.
Then it is back.
Darkness.
The eyes begin to adjust. A flickering shadow catches the eye, was that a figure?
Or are the depths of this building’s bowels starting to play tricks on you.
No matter.
The light flickers once more and then fights back as the bulb begins to win the battle, offering a less than satisfactory illumination but comforting nonetheless. The walls drip with damp and mould is running wild. The footsteps echo and dread plays and tugs on the heart strings like a musician with a harp. The door at the end of the corridor is prominent. Thick and well set. Whatever lies beyond that door was not getting out anytime soon.
Did you hear that?
That rattle.
It is coming from that door…or more specifically...behind that door.
Drawn to the noise like a curious child the door is within reach...it opens on its own accord. In the centre of the revealed room, "it"sits, bound to a chair by manacles and chains.
“It” is looking at the floor, we see the top of “it’s” head and the hair is overgrown and hanging down.
“It’s” muscular physique has been through the wars and the scars dominate the flesh.
“It’s” hands hold the ends of the chair arms and slowly the fingers draw back forming fists instead.
“It” is clearly a male. A very tall male.
Slowly the head lifts up and reveals the face. Old burns scar one side of his face, the eyes are that of the black abyss that look like their stare right into your soul.
The smile!
Oh that smile!
Combined with the wide eyes, the stare and smile cause shivers, a feeling of the end.
In the blink of an eye.
The manacles open.
They fall to the ground and the chains along with them.
He is free.
He stands.
Slowly.
The face and expression are unchanging and unnerving.
As quick as a blink of an eye he dashes towards, not running, hovering!
Forced by an unseen force. Hands outstretched reaching for the throat.
…
…
A blinding white light!
…
…
The image slowly adjusts, still blurry, The shot imitates a blinking eye from a first person perspective but the image is still blurry, slow to adjust.
“We are so happy to have you back, you are a difficult man to find. Welcome back to New Frontier Wrestling!”
The third person perspective is still blurry but the room resembles an office and an unknown person behind a desk.
The view changes.
There was the same man from the basement of that weird building fully clothed. Sitting in front of the desk, that same face, slowly grinning that haunting grin and distant look, only this time in some sort of office.
On the desk?
A contract.
Signed.
Gabriel Ohio
Then we see the figure again standing in the room with the chair, writing, using his own blood as the ink on the mouldy walls:
Trauma….never truly heals…
Once again, it’s heartbeat can be felt once more as the beast calls to us.
Yes, it calls us, one at a time.
And yes…I used the word “It” deliberately.
Once the hand of the demon grips your soul there will be no escape.
Like zombies, commanded to return to the battleground by the insanity of the Liche that binds them. Please settle yourselves down by the fire, let this bard tell you his tale.
A tale of wonder, evil and carnage.
Put yer young ‘uns to bed for this tale if not to be heard by the ears of the innocent, for there be nightmares born if they hear but a word of it.
For those who dare to listen, I fare thee fair warning, his name will be whispered among the shadows once more.
Some things are better left buried and forgotten…"
Darkness.
Dark.
Drip drip drip.
The sound of leaky pipes gently kiss the eardrum. The darkness is briefly repelled as a light bulb allows but a brief moment of respite with a flicker.
Then it is back.
Darkness.
The eyes begin to adjust. A flickering shadow catches the eye, was that a figure?
Or are the depths of this building’s bowels starting to play tricks on you.
No matter.
The light flickers once more and then fights back as the bulb begins to win the battle, offering a less than satisfactory illumination but comforting nonetheless. The walls drip with damp and mould is running wild. The footsteps echo and dread plays and tugs on the heart strings like a musician with a harp. The door at the end of the corridor is prominent. Thick and well set. Whatever lies beyond that door was not getting out anytime soon.
Did you hear that?
That rattle.
It is coming from that door…or more specifically...behind that door.
Drawn to the noise like a curious child the door is within reach...it opens on its own accord. In the centre of the revealed room, "it"sits, bound to a chair by manacles and chains.
“It” is looking at the floor, we see the top of “it’s” head and the hair is overgrown and hanging down.
“It’s” muscular physique has been through the wars and the scars dominate the flesh.
“It’s” hands hold the ends of the chair arms and slowly the fingers draw back forming fists instead.
“It” is clearly a male. A very tall male.
Slowly the head lifts up and reveals the face. Old burns scar one side of his face, the eyes are that of the black abyss that look like their stare right into your soul.
The smile!
Oh that smile!
Combined with the wide eyes, the stare and smile cause shivers, a feeling of the end.
In the blink of an eye.
The manacles open.
They fall to the ground and the chains along with them.
He is free.
He stands.
Slowly.
The face and expression are unchanging and unnerving.
As quick as a blink of an eye he dashes towards, not running, hovering!
Forced by an unseen force. Hands outstretched reaching for the throat.
…
…
A blinding white light!
…
…
The image slowly adjusts, still blurry, The shot imitates a blinking eye from a first person perspective but the image is still blurry, slow to adjust.
“We are so happy to have you back, you are a difficult man to find. Welcome back to New Frontier Wrestling!”
The third person perspective is still blurry but the room resembles an office and an unknown person behind a desk.
The view changes.
There was the same man from the basement of that weird building fully clothed. Sitting in front of the desk, that same face, slowly grinning that haunting grin and distant look, only this time in some sort of office.
On the desk?
A contract.
Signed.
Gabriel Ohio
Then we see the figure again standing in the room with the chair, writing, using his own blood as the ink on the mouldy walls:
Trauma….never truly heals…
