milliways_bar | (no subject)

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There's a new building on the shores of the lake.

(Well, I say new...)

It appeared as if built overnight, but instead of being snug and pretty like so many new buildings, it looks as if it's been there for a hundred years, and empty for a hundred more. Walls have fallen in, and ivy crawls up those that remain. The windows are as empty as a skull's eyes. The pathway to what was once the front gate is overgrown.

It was clearly once a majestic place, its grey structure an imposing sight, but now ...

It is not empty.

[ooc: Open for exploring. Please email me at minorblue(at)gmail(dot)com or PM me if you have any questions.)

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A new building, quite elaborate.

Just appeared. This place is so weird!

Urquhart is powerfully curious, but careful. So he approaches slowly, casually, watching and listening for a sign of anything that might be sneaking up to attack.

Rustle of vines.

Creak of tree branches.

Whisper of grass.

Urquhart walks quietly up the overgrown pathway, approaching the doors.

He wants to know what's hiding here, scaring everybody this badly!

The doors are beyond a stone porch, made of oak and iron.

They look like they have not been opened for many decades.

Urquhart is tall and strong, and pushes against them, carefully, so they won't fall if their hinges are rusted through.

The air smells of dust, ivy and decay.

There's a set of stairs on the right, and a half-collapsed wall on the left.

A hallway leads into darkness straight ahead.

Urquhart bends down to look at the rubble of the collapsed wall. He'll go carefully about this.

The wall is made of grey stone, and appears to have collapsed under great pressure from outside.

There is a crumpled bit of paper under one of the bricks.

Urquhart picks it up, and looks at it.

On it is written, in crude, hasty handwriting,

men know him as the Dweller in darkness, that brOther of the old oNes called nyogTha, the thing that shouLd not be he can be summOned to earth's surface through certain secret caverns and fissures, and sorcerers have seen him in syria and below the blacK tOwer of leng: fRom the thang grotto of tartary he has come ravenIng To bring terror And destruction among the pavilions of the great Khan only by the loopEd croSs, by the vach-viraj incantation, and by the tikkoun elixir maY he be driven back to the nighted caverns of hidden fOUlness where he dwelleth

Urquhart reads the paper, slowly.

He keeps himself almost forcibly from murmuring the names around.

Nyogtha.

Vach-viraj.

Tikkoun.

What strange names. He fears they have some power...

Edited 2012-10-18 21:10 (UTC)

The floor above him creaks.

Urquhart steps back quietly, and looks up to where the sound came from.

Silence descends.

Creak.

Urquhart takes a deep breath.

He is Urquhart.

The wolf.

He feels nothing.

He is not afraid.

He repeats that a few times, then quietly moves towards the stairs.

He appears at the top.

Urquhart looks up.

It can't be dread that washes through his veins like ice-water, can it? Urquhart the Wolf feels no such thing.

He hides in the shadows, to see what happens.

Not from fear.

Most certainly not from fear.

Three deep breaths, and Urquhart moves again, slowly, creeping towards the stairs.

There can't have been anybody there, can there?

Is there, or isn't there?

Only one way to find out.

Slowly, Urquhart walks up the stairs.

There is.

Urquhart takes a deep breath. He can't possibly be afraid, can he?

He doesn't move.

This can't be a feeling.

This can't be fear.

Urquhart tells himself he does neither feelings nor fear, and slowly climbs up two more steps of the stairs.

"Hullo?" he asks the figure at the top.