I̝̻̣̱͖͚͗̈̆̕T̤̞̠͎̘̜̤ͬͭ̋ͬ͂̃̇́ ̣̱̳̗̋̾̑ͥͥ̀B̮̺͇̝̼̺ͯ͌̾͗̿͋Ē̝̞̼̣̻͙̙̒ͭG͓̜̅͐̽̐͞Ï̜̳̥ͯN̯͙̮ͧ̀Sͫ͐̂͏͖

[strangerpeople]

I͔T̫͉̄ͮͮͪͧ ̲̜̪̥̓̈́͂̚̚B̫̲̼͕̦͓͕ͩ̏̊͆E̥̱͚̦͓̍G̠̬͓̟̥ͪͣ͆ͬ̓I̅ͯͣ̿N͐̉̎̂ͫͧS͑͆̒ͣ̆


[There is a blight in the vineyard.

It started without warning, deep into the crop. No one noticed. The blight was an insidious little thing, cultivating itself in the weaker vines over the long winter. Then, when summer came, it struck, and there was no stopping it.

The farmers could only watch the blight ravage their gardens. Grapes shriveled up by the bunch, day by day. Sometimes, it would be hours between the time a perfectly healthy vine caught it, and the time when the fruit was little more than black ash and slag. The problem was so serious that it threatened the very future of the business. It was all the farmers could do to try and isolate the sections of the vineyard still healthy, and the parts that were as good as dead.

Then, one day, it happened. The business recieved a phone call.

The blight was no longer just in their vineyard. It had spread to neighboring farms, and everyone was demanding answers. Yours could not have been where it started. It just couldn't have been.

Where did this pestilence come from? Could it be stopped?

You do not know, and you fear what the answer may be.



-



Good morning, Strangers.

Wake up. Look around. Do you feel like this might be familiar? Not your surroundings, but the circumstances. Do you feel the fear in your stomach? Do you sense the wrongness that permeates the air?

You should. Because your gut is right. You are exactly in what you think you are. Right now, there is no other explanation. There is only the sureness of experience informing you that you have been plunged into a game, once more without your consent. A game where blood will be spilled, and death will happen.

The only other thing you are sure of are the thoughts that pop up when you think of your circumstances. No matter what you do, you cannot shake the finality, the truth of what you are thinking. You cannot deny your own beliefs, after all, when they are so embedded, so imprinted on you, that they are as a part of you as anything else, like your face, or fingers, or hair.

And so perhaps you remind yourself, as you ready yourself to leave the house, of the truths you know to be real.



So steel yourselves, Strangers. You know what to expect; there will be others like you, trapped here. Maybe it will, this time, be for forever.

So welcome, one and all. Welcome to the City at the very End, in the eye, the center. A City that gave in long before the code distorted and collapsed and unleashed a virus on reality. Make yourselves comfortable.

You are not going


an̛͡y͠҉w̸h̢ȩ͢r̸͝e̸.]

Comments

[necroyalty]

That was mostly a rhetorical question.

[ She buries her face in her hands. Why are you like this. WHY. ]

You hopefully, as a reasonable person, understand a parent's concerns with leaving their children behind when there are literal demons to worry about.

[champion_link]

I think they will be fine, Queen Ambrosine. In fact, I know they will be. Everyone will be perfectly fine once they see how nice it is living like this.

[necroyalty]

...funny you say that.

This is sounding more and more like a cult.

[champion_link]

Not really. It's a shame you think that way.

[necroyalty]

I have yet to hear a compelling explanation for why it is not that doesn't just go around in circles.

[champion_link]

You'll understand it one day.

[How can a monotone voice sound so patronizing?]

[necroyalty]

...you're doing everything in your power to be evasive, and it's not something I appreciate.

[champion_link]

[Sigh.]

There are very good reasons, but there's only so much information that I'm cleared to give you.