So, in the fantasy worlds I am in charge of, a good number of folks have entrusted the survival and interest of their beloved fictional characters to my morbid whimsy. Good gods of good... what where they thinking? One group is battling through a twisted, backwater frontier infested with undead nymphs, inbred hills-have-eyes ogre-kin, cannibalistic giants and Lovecraftian witch-cults that steal babies and infest dreams... Another one is trapped on a deserted Island -pirates- avoid because of curses, undead and worse, are being stalked by Cannibals and SOMETHING horrific that has red eyes and drops bloodless animals into their fires at night, and they havent even discovered why they were trapped there yet. And yet another is walking full tilt into an endless Winter inhabited by murderous faeries, totalitarian Ice Witches (Narnia Lost, mmkay) and the shadow of the Baba Yaga herself. Whats wrong with you people. Just kill yourselves off and play Silent Hill, where you actually have hope and your God only gives you lemons, not tentacled-daemon horrors that take the form of innocent lemons.
Posted on: Tue, 01 Jul 2014 00:57:53 +0000
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