The Whisperer

# Wing City, 2011-06-14 10:13:14, as written by Patcharoo

The figure rose slowly, like a spider, back sliding up the door, bottom lip trembling. "Like all good gods He tends to His flock," voice akin to how he first spoke, fear definitely having returned, "But sometimes there are those who must be c-c-culled." His arms almost gracefully rose to either side as he pressed his hands against the walls. It was almost as if he hoped to act as a barrier, keeping the door shut. "But not all of the flock are b-ble-eivers," he says, final word pronounced like a bleating sheep.

Outside the figure approached the door, black in form and slick, hopefully from the rain, but judging by who was the point of the discussion, not likely.

# Wing City, 2011-06-14 10:28:37, as written by Patcharoo

The figure took one finger and planted it to their skull, twisting their hand as if it was a drill, boring into their temple. "It stops him from getting inssiide. He already got me," they squeaked, "But he need not get you."

There was a sudden rapping on the door, though no voice acompanied it. The figure shivered and pressed themself to the door. "Hu-hurry."

# Wing City, 2011-06-14 11:06:11, as written by Patcharoo

The figure was there no longer, not in physical form, gone as a blackish goop slipped beneath the door frame and into the house. It slowly congealed back into a humanoid form once more, though it had an unusual touch; the head of the oil-like being was that of a canine, snarling angrily.
But throughout the house the figure seemed to remain, forever just beyond vision, lurking in reflections, beyond windows and in doorways at the end of corridors barely noticed. There was little more they could do here. It was up to Gayle now.

# Wing City, 2011-06-14 11:31:37, as written by Patcharoo

It would feel like plunging your head into oil. All around the face, the skull, it would feel like liquid filled every orifice. It was not quite like drowning as there was no sense of liquid moving, just the strange surrounding feel of being submersed. The figure was coming towards Gayle's voice now, growling, raising one hand for the woman.

But contrasting to the sheer discomfort and subtle horror that was felt by wearing the mask was an out of place feeling. Distantly there was a sense of Shaded, calmly sitting on the bar stool, body a disgusting abomination to the world, talking in a polite voice and apologising for his misdeeds, the same sense of humanity that made his forced violence almost like a surreal dream. If one were to look closely at the path of the Corruption, they would begin to notice a very subtle trend.

# Wing City, 2011-06-15 12:39:11, as written by Patcharoo

It would feel like plunging your head into oil. All around the face, the skull, it would feel like liquid filled every orifice. It was not quite like drowning as there was no sense of liquid moving, just the strange surrounding feel of being submersed. The figure was coming towards Gayle's voice now, growling, raising one hand for the woman.

But contrasting to the sheer discomfort and subtle horror that was felt by wearing the mask was an out of place feeling. Distantly there was a sense of Shaded, calmly sitting on the bar stool, body a disgusting abomination to the world, talking in a polite voice and apologising for his misdeeds, the same sense of humanity that made his forced violence almost like a surreal dream. If one were to look closely at the path of the Corruption, they would begin to notice a very subtle trend.

# Wing City, 2011-06-15 13:00:00, as written by Patcharoo

The corruption thing trudged forth, voice calling from within the wolfish head. 'You know' it answered simply. The extended hand suddenly split in two, forming what almost appeared to be a stethoscope. It was planning to go for her ears, almost as if ignoring the mask entirely. The wolven mouth turned to a snarl, as if a threat for Gayle to remain complacent and just remain still.

# Wing City, 2011-06-15 13:19:28, as written by Patcharoo

The beast headed creature all but blocked the path straight before Gayle, though it didn't seem to be making much an attempt to cover its sides. One could probably shove past it, with a bit of effort. Almost as if anticipating her motions a soft spoken voice echo'd quietly. "Wait, please. You are safe." The voice was internal, surely, though judging by the direction it came from and the proximity, it was the mask speaking. Still, the other creature seemed to take no notice of any noises, tendrils stretching out to either side like a set of ants jaws waiting to clamp down..

# Wing City, 2011-06-15 13:33:39, as written by Patcharoo

Down came the black tendrils, slapping for Gayle's hands if she did not move, trying to slip through small gaps in her fingers like liquid, creeping for her skull. The voice would remain calm, reassuring. "Your mind is safe, though, perhaps some magic would not go awry should the creature realise you are protected." The voice was all too familiar, though it had been so long since it had been heard, and another, in fact the one before Gayle, had stolen the name of the owner. Shaded.

# Wing City, 2011-06-24 09:19:15, as written by Patcharoo

Standing her ground, Gayle realized she had nowhere left to go and could only stand her ground. Squaring her shoulders, she stood as fearlessly as possible, bolstered by the distant sense of Shaded, of the bizarre ‘humanity’ of the being downstairs. “What do you want?” she whispered through a throat that felt clogged by thick oil.

The corruption thing trudged forth, voice calling from within the wolfish head. 'You know' it answered simply. The extended hand suddenly split in two, forming what almost appeared to be a stethoscope. It was planning to go for her ears, almost as if ignoring the mask entirely. The wolven mouth turned to a snarl, as if a threat for Gayle to remain complacent and just remain still.

# Wing City, 2011-06-24 09:20:18, as written by Patcharoo

Safe? Gayle thought to herself, panicked. This seemed far from safe. Still, seeing as how she was mostly blocked, and really didn’t like her chances of trying to sneak past the snarling creature to begin with, she remained where she was, hands clamped firmly over her ears. Adrenaline coursed through her body as she stood before the figure. “I said no,” she repeated, firmly, as if reiterating something to a child.

Down came the black tendrils, slapping for Gayle's hands if she did not move, trying to slip through small gaps in her fingers like liquid, creeping for her skull. The voice would remain calm, reassuring. "Your mind is safe, though, perhaps some magic would not go awry should the creature realise you are protected." The voice was all too familiar, though it had been so long since it had been heard, and another, in fact the one before Gayle, had stolen the name of the owner. Shaded.

# Wing City, 2011-06-24 09:34:58, as written by Patcharoo

The feeling of oil would run over her hands, cold to the touch, practically revolting. It would slide for the narrow gaps in all parts of her, caused by her hands, her hair, the little bumps on the skin and the way bones didn't meet up. Slowly it would leak towards her ears. The voice otherwise remained silent, leaving Gayle to focus.

# Wing City, 2011-06-24 09:55:38, as written by Patcharoo

The water splashed over the figure, causing a surprised yelp to come from them for the moment. They jumped back, slipping on the now wet surface and falling over. It seemed, despite their growling, snarling and viciousness, the wolf headed creature was not fully prepared for any form of resistance.

# Gypsy Camp, 2011-11-04 00:42:09, as written by Patcharoo

Light shone down, the clouds parting as an off-yellow filtered through the air to where Whisper sat. It would be easy to mistake it for the moon once more, but it was not so. To say she was being watched was an understatement. The clouds would, however, close once more, yellow light vanishing. The whispering immediately took up once more, subtle and all around. "-the subject is fear. That's how-" the voices barely raised for a moment before dying down once again. There was the sound of dirt kicking up, someone skidding to a halt on the other side of the caravan, followed by rapid, fearful breathing.

# Gypsy Camp, 2011-11-04 01:00:49, as written by Patcharoo

Out in the open the fear would likely magnify, then at once dull, as if whoever it had been had just stepped inside the very caravan Whisper had just left. "-its a power that could give you exactly what-" the voice fluttered again from the staff. The sense of fear would magnify as rather literally just beyond the curtain a man was currently perched very much like a gargoyle, head leant forward to stare right at the back of Whisper's head.

They wore a mask, a mask of eyes, three of them staring forward.

# Gypsy Camp, 2011-11-04 01:17:14, as written by Patcharoo

The figure immediately jerked backwards, falling from the chair to the floor. They scrambled backwards until they met a wall, back pressed to it. Their nervous voice forced out a stutter of, "S-sorry." Their legs continued to kick as if desperate to get away from Whisper, sheer abject terror rippling through the heart of the man. He began to rise from his frantic leg-flailing.

A hand was offered out, though his entire body trembled, revealing more eyes across his knuckles and arms. In the peace between words his lips could be seen moving, mouthing out two words. Whispering. Watching.

# Gypsy Camp, 2011-11-04 01:25:24, as written by Patcharoo

The mans hand jerked back at her words, as if he had just been scolded. His palm slapped to his chest and both arms curled about him defensively. "Wh-whisper-er." It wasn't a stutter, but it may have seemed it. "Insp-pired by y-yourself to be t-truthful."

"Y-you're after him, aren't you?"

# Gypsy Camp, 2011-11-04 01:43:11, as written by Patcharoo

The Whisperer's hand jerked sharply, almost an agressive gesture, towards the staff. "He w-wants it."

"For a ritual."

# Gypsy Camp, 2011-11-04 01:50:56, as written by Patcharoo

The Whisperer danced across the room, as if to escape Whisper herself and get closer to the staff. He dropped to his knees when close, keeping his eyes locked onto it. "It is a sacrif-ficial knife, g-ranted by the second-to-last f-fool priest," he said, one hand held up, half-curled. "H-his right h-hand shall plunge the knife into the h-heart of the c-current priest, and He shall awaken."

# Gypsy Camp, 2011-11-04 02:03:40, as written by Patcharoo

"-need to trust me-" came the whispers from the staff, though the voice seemed to have the wrong tone to be a part of this conversation. "I-I like all servants to H-him am unwilling," they explained, with a gentle bow. "I am the alpha," he explained, mouth splitting into a wide grin, teeth being shown. "H-his eyes. I am d-drawn deeply to these objects crafted by the s-second to last priest. I hunt the r-remnants of Jonathan B-black's legacy as Corruption."

He was growing zealous, sounding less afraid and more intense by the moment.

# Gypsy Camp, 2011-11-04 02:12:17, as written by Patcharoo

The man held a hand in front of his face. "Two m-masks," he stuttered, hatefully spitting the words from his mouth, hand lowering once more. "Traitor to H-him, created w-ways to f-fight the Corruption in the t-time before his death. An e-equally unwilling servant who would be f-forced to obey."

"B-but his service was t-terminated by another."

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Patcharoo

Last seen at: The Bluff

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