Joined: Sun Mar 04, 2012 2:57 am
Location: Peering through the keyhole...
A colossal figure, garbed in a tattered, midnight-black cloak steps slowly, and deliberately towards the front of the smithy. Each footfall echoes with a dull, resounding 'crunch', piercing the still morning air. The worn hood of the faded cloak casts the figure's face into eerie, unrecognizable shadows, yet the distinct glint of sharp, white teeth flashes for the briefest of moments as the figure drives a nail deep into the wooden wall of the building. Pinned to the wood by the large carpenter's nail is a small scroll of torn parchment. On the scrap of parchment, in flowing, spiky script is the following words:
Dear, sweet, innocent Bane.
With walls washed white, and hearts stained black,
Illusions of safety, and false security.
The time has come to check the course,
To correct the path,
To break free of all pretense,
To expose your rotten core.
Now is the time for fear.
Now is the time for chaos.
Now is the time for unsettling.
The puppet Master of your false show, am I.
Born of darkness, scourge of light.
The first of five shall fall tonight.
Dear, sweet, innocent Bane,
Are you ready to play my game?