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[Let us try something interesting. First to five chooses. The scene is a modern city, deliberately unnamed.]
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city drags itself awake on subway straps; its heart pulses with dark blood and fire. You lie awake as a rumor of war, a pyre of shining embers, its light stretching into dawn, unasked and unheeded, as the drummer’s pulse.
You know, bone-deep, yourself to be at a threshold. It beckons to you with sly allure.
Bloodied fists. Hard kernels of truth silently relish whimsical patterns. You are a possibility. Your skin is like the dawn and darkest night before it. The light of the streets above paints on it the beginning of a certain end.
Birthed and invigorated by this intensifying pressure, the thing you remember most is your name.
You anxiously await the threshold. The taloned hand of unstable chaos grasps the sword of activation.
What is your name, seeker? What have you left behind?
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L.p. my name is But I Protagonest and I left my mosin nagant at the store
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>>1458904
Dammit I meant hiro protagonest
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>>1458903
Jerry Jordan
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>>1458925
What have you left behind? Who have you been, before the threshold?
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>>1458955
An accountant, left behind work and a crappy home life.
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>>1458959
Setting foot upon the gentle curvature of this darkening path, eager indentations untainted by disbelief, as crimson hues waltz languidly with cosmic azures, yielding keen observance, through nothingness which cuts, you make a step.
Noxious dissonance cannot permeate this sacred space, with gleaming eyes awaiting wonder, you forward move, one, two steps, more… Like thing possess’d you grasp at Truth, your talons rake the world apart. It yields. To lies shall you inured be forevermore.
O seeker, what does your reach, your grasp exceeding, grab?
[ ] A pitfall comes, of bush and briar. Of silver, glass and more besides, of the nominalist’s razor and winding path. You pull yourself, and dance, and turn. It takes an age and thirteen choices, an oath and restrictions three, yet there you stand, you move, you live again, your story telling more of itself, your self imagined anew. Step forth and sing!
[ ] You grab a snake, a spiral coil, and bite it as you’re bit in turn. The waters dance between and round, and salty waves seek in you cracks. Your bones break. Your soul shatters. Your body burns, but, shame exuding, your mind holds as chains are shattered. The dream collapses. Black iron greets you, grinning madly. Step forth. Transcend.
[ ] An ember. A rage against the burning wind. The perfection of lava teardrops caresses the ashes of your former face, and Truth burns in your cheekbones. Your sightless clay can now see, your tongue afire with Might and Power. You know, you feel, you burn inside. You weep with beauty. Golden tears spring forth and break your world asunder. Six angels bow. Step forth. The key is nigh.
[ ] Two-faced Janus. A half-drachma. The world is rusting, dead, unliving the quiet life of prison bars that wait to be reforged to crowns. Yours is the scythe, yours is the hammer, the plough-share, the coin and the sword. The dead, the living’s closest brethren, the darkness that gives way to noon. The grey, the stillness that still beckons, for you it yawns its leaden maw. Step forth. You’re home. The boatman waits.
[ ] The plants! They stream, their pure viridian is choking, life has found a way! You dance, you jump, you fuck, you kill, you move in tune, you sing yourself and worlds apart.
Yet you are whole, to jump, and run, and live again. The moon has smiled. Your copper teeth without equal, your might unmatched, your cunning pure. Step forth! And boldly go!
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>>1458970
>[ ] You grab a snake, a spiral coil, and bite it as you’re bit in turn. The waters dance between and round, and salty waves seek in you cracks. Your bones break. Your soul shatters. Your body burns, but, shame exuding, your mind holds as chains are shattered. The dream collapses. Black iron greets you, grinning madly. Step forth. Transcend.
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>>1458970
Two-faced Janus. A half-drachma. The world is rusting, dead, unliving the quiet life of prison bars that wait to be reforged to crowns. Yours is the scythe, yours is the hammer, the plough-share, the coin and the sword. The dead, the living’s closest brethren, the darkness that gives way to noon. The grey, the stillness that still beckons, for you it yawns its leaden maw. Step forth. You’re home. The boatman waits.
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[seeing the general lack of people around, this will be first to three, or the one with the most votes in an hour]
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>>1458970
>[ ] A pitfall comes, of bush and briar. Of silver, glass and more besides, of the nominalist’s razor and winding path. You pull yourself, and dance, and turn. It takes an age and thirteen choices, an oath and restrictions three, yet there you stand, you move, you live again, your story telling more of itself, your self imagined anew. Step forth and sing!
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[need at least one more pls]
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>>1458975
This'n
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>>1458970
>[ ] Two-faced Janus. A half-drachma. The world is rusting, dead, unliving the quiet life of prison bars that wait to be reforged to crowns. Yours is the scythe, yours is the hammer, the plough-share, the coin and the sword. The dead, the living’s closest brethren, the darkness that gives way to noon. The grey, the stillness that still beckons, for you it yawns its leaden maw. Step forth. You’re home. The boatman waits.
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>>1458970
[ ] You grab a snake, a spiral coil, and bite it as you’re bit in turn. The waters dance between and round, and salty waves seek in you cracks. Your bones break. Your soul shatters. Your body burns, but, shame exuding, your mind holds as chains are shattered. The dream collapses. Black iron greets you, grinning madly. Step forth. Transcend.
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