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[dont_turn_around]

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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[scots_wolf]

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...

[dont_turn_around]

The floor above him creaks.

[scots_wolf]

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

[dont_turn_around]

Silence descends.




Creak.

[scots_wolf]

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.

[dont_turn_around]

He appears at the top.

[scots_wolf]

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.

[dont_turn_around]

[scots_wolf]

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

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

[dont_turn_around]

[scots_wolf]

Is there, or isn't there?

Only one way to find out.

Slowly, Urquhart walks up the stairs.

[dont_turn_around]

There is.

[scots_wolf]

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

[dont_turn_around]

He doesn't move.

[scots_wolf]

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.

[dont_turn_around]

[scots_wolf]

Urquhart makes himself climb one more step.

[dont_turn_around]

Tentacles, slender and strong as a squid's, begin to unfold from his back.

[scots_wolf]

Urquhart pulls out his crossbow and quickly loads and cocks it.

Some actual monster is much easier to deal with than that nameless dread!

[dont_turn_around]

He waits.

[scots_wolf]

Urquhart climbs up two more steps.

"If you attack, I'll shoot you," he says. "Who are you?"

Beat.

"What are you?"

He ignores the encroaching dread in the pit of his stomach.

[dont_turn_around]

ANCIENT.

ALONE.

HUNGRY.

[scots_wolf]

Urquhart climbs another step, his crossbow held straight before him, aimed.

It feels like the hardest thing he ever did.

[dont_turn_around]

A tentacle caresses Urqhuart's cheek.

[scots_wolf]

There is a moment when Urquhart stands stock-still, unsure whether to shoot, or to bold downstairs, flee from the house, and never look back.