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 Ziost - All Nightmare long (open)

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Marik Rayth

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Male Number of posts : 26
Location : In your closet
Registration date : 2009-01-07

PostSubject: Ziost - All Nightmare long (open)   Sat Jan 10, 2009 9:10 pm

(I warn everybody that I'll probably not be around too much so don't be surprised if you don't see me around a lot)

Mute birds, tired of repeating yesterdays terrors, huddle together in the recesses of dark corners. Veils of darkness shroud the blackened trees, which, contorted by some unseen violence, shred their weary leaves, and bend in the mist-filled wind. The cataract of the night forms fully as the world weeps in sorrow, giving its condolences to pity itself over the vehement evil that conquers without warning. Soon, nothing is evident and recognized in the dead forest but death itself, this haunting martyr of a planet becoming a grave resident of the unseen universe that shamefully bears its existence.

Crawl from the wreckage one more time.
Horrific memory twists the mind.
Dark, rutted, cold and hard to turn.
Path of destruction feel it burn.

Still life… incarnation.
Still life… infamy.

Hallucination.
Heresy.
Still you run, what’s to come, what’s to be.

Cause we...
Hunt you down without mercy
Hunt you down all nightmare long
Feel us breathe upon your face
Feel us shift, every move we trace
Hunt you down without mercy
Hunt you down all nightmare long


What beautiful cause the Dark Side had for such an amassment of rocks, it was unknown and unjudged, leaving naught but it's abhorrent aura to emerge upward and trace it's territorial marks, wandering aimlessly throughout the land. The once-tranquil forest now lay without honor, ensembles of flowers uselessly bled their magnificence upon the deadened ground below, shriveling as if shedding tears to accent their demise.

Luck. Runs. Out.
You crawl back in,
But your luck runs out.

Luck. Runs. Out.

The light that is not light is here
To flush you out with your own fear
You hide, you hide but will be found
Release your grip without a sound

Still life… immolation.
Still life… infamy.

Hallucination.
Heresy.
Still you run, what’s to come, what’s to be.

Cause we...
Hunt you down without mercy
Hunt you down all nightmare long
Feel us breathe upon your face
Feel us shift, every move we trace
Hunt you down without mercy
Hunt you down all nightmare long


It was a wicked world, one that should not be rivaled with any form of malevolence, beyond the shallow classification of 'evil'. Whatever means of which that dared to define the mere agonizing transformation of this planet could never truly find any assimilation of letters to fathom, nor to verbalize the mass destructive trial this bitter planet was forced to undergo. The Sith felt nothing but comfortably numb power emitting off Ziost, the planet of the dead. The normal warmth of the sunrise was twisted in irony, an icy sun with a chilling glow, distorting to the complete antithesis of peace.

Luck. Runs. Out.
You crawl back in, but your luck runs out.

Then you crawl back in,
Into your obsession.
Never to return.
This is your confession.


Frost slowly descended from the moon, weaving inwards throughout the cryptic crowns of trees, desperately attempting to infect the forest's level through the endlessly haunting and boundless canopy. The shadows stretched narrowly across the ground swayed in unity, nothing more than phantom puppets of the moon, portraying the appeal of skeletal hands drowning the Sith in presence. Yet, terror had it's limits, unlike the Dark Side. Adaption to living nightmares came as mandatory for the Sith, so whatever agonizingly evil ghosts of planets to Jedi would pass on as nothing but an ideal throne to those of such stature. His evident body figure rocked gently in a steady beat, the disruptive random waving of the ebony cloak shattering any form of rhythm in his stride. An awkward form of comfort came to the trees, whispering in the form of howling wind, while Dagon was yet passing. His walk was sure, and as this pseudonym of a disguise masked any shred of appearance, it boldened his ideal of becoming nothing more than a mere shadow, one that was closing in on the unfinished Temple.

Hunt you down without mercy
Hunt you down all nightmare long
Feel us breathe upon your face
Feel us shift, every move we trace
Hunt you down without mercy
Hunt you down all nightmare long

Luck. Runs. Out.
You crawl back in, but your luck runs out.
Your luck runs out.
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Sinister Shadow



Male Number of posts : 1
Age : 26
Location : Sexville, CA
Registration date : 2009-01-11

PostSubject: Re: Ziost - All Nightmare long (open)   Mon Jan 12, 2009 9:22 pm

Within that very temple a lone figure of its own sat dormant amidst an enveloping shadow, itself lingering in the darkness kept a mere handful of meters away from the building’s entrance. Outside, the frosted air was chilling to the bones, but inside the atmosphere seemed even colder, as though frozen over by some dark taint that corrupted and maligned much more than just the environment around it.

The figure resting within could just be one such contribution to the cause, amalgamating both the inner spirits and the being itself into a sinister combination of dread, defilement and damnation. That is, after all, what was so accustomed to such a location as this; a sanctum of evil, in any shape or form, toward one labeling definition or the other.

That entity within felt right at home here, its mind humble and resting while aware with acute senses as to its surroundings and maybe any life-form, be it a stray beast or lost soul, that would step into the temple. A mind of madness: mentally chaotic yet controlled, emotionally vibrant yet virulent, physically strong yet slumbering in a shroud of personally created warmth; a black blanket wrapped around a black mind in a cozy embrace of both love and hate.

Neither emotions were at present of any significance, however; for meditation canceled out both extremes. That very meditation was producing an aura of silence and thus an aura of stealth, even though one be unintentionally founded. Camouflaged by the shadows engulfing it, the figure sat as still as a cold, dry rock with its back up against a nearby wall, its two legs crossed and its two arms folded—no doubt would there be that it was at least a humanoid.

However, the aphotic attire that it was garbed in did indeed keep its body hidden from plain sight, available only as being sensed by the mind of some able and Force-sensitive individual. Perhaps the being was already acknowledged by a near mind beforehand, or perhaps, in its meditative state, no signs were able to be picked up just yet. Either way, aware of another’s presence or not, and whether that other was aware of its own, there the being remained, invisible save for taking on the form of that very sinister shadow that seemed to simply feed off of it, and was fed off of in return.
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