Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazlow" data-source="post: 3272315" data-attributes="member: 24242">Listening just a split second more, you hear no one in the stairway, and feel that the pounding coming from above is faint enough that no one downstairs could hear it, much less over the sound of the chanting.  You turn your attention back to the secret compartment, and as your eyes try to fix on the contents of the small box, the box seems to disappear entirely, and you see only the wall beyond it.  A vague feeling of unease creeps into your limbs as you look through it, yet you feel compelled to investigate further...  You reach forward almost involuntarily and extend your finger...All is we- PollockPollockPollockPollLike ebony quicksilver a mass of black tendrils surge forth, seeping through the edges of the box, bursting the lock and reducing the box to splinters, cracking the sides of the armoire as it writhes with an otherworldly pulse, throbbing and churning and twisting towards your finger, and though you are horrified, petrified in place, this unholy shadow fills you with loathing and longing, dread and desire, revulsion and rapture...  It smoothly wraps around your extended finger, the cold, numbing pain a revolting delight, and you watch, eyes wide and mouth agape in a silent scream, the tendrils working their way into your flesh, pooling under the nail and pulsing, throbbing their way up towards your hand...  You finally manage to scream.As your eyes try to fix on the contents of the small box, you can make out a small jumble of a fine chain, not completely obscuring a medallion of some kind - a stylized eye with...  Unusually wavy lashes...?  A vague feeling of unease creeps into your limbs as you look at it, yet you feel compelled to investigate further...  You reach forward almost involuntarily and extend your fing-All is well, my friend.  I'm not certain but I feel the ceremony here is coming to an end.  Might I inquire as to your plan for egress?You snap your hand back and immediately rub it for warmth - your index finger is cold, painfully cold.  The panel to the secret compartment is still open, the box still sitting there intact.  You replace the panel and close the armoire, and in doing so notice that the nail of your right index finger has turned black, the skin around it unnaturally dark.Disoriented, shaken, and somewhat short of breath, you dash out of the office.Pollock?  You there?</blockquote>

Verification