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My love and my agony


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Pustulant Hair

Pustulant Hair

    Roleplay Storyteller

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  • Location:Phnom Penh
  • Interests:Surgical Sound Specimens from the Museum of Skin
Memento Mori: The House of Titus

Sounds of gulls could be heard above the crash and play of noon tide along the beach front, south of the town proper. Years preceding the current date had witnessed a brief, yet cataclysmic, earthquake which in turn tore out a part of the continent and dumped it into the water basin. So, on tides such as the one visiting the town, the sands would wash red as old farming soil would deposit over the dunes and crests. Of course, not many of the soft peasant folk of Welldown would venture into the muddy mess, and so, it was strange to see a lone figure standing ankle deep in the stuff. And what was even more intriguing about this individual, was the complete lack of care for the growing waves bringing more sediment towards his booted feet. For the few watching the spectacle, questions were raised about his manner and mind, but no soul pondered about his staring, intent eyes. Fixated on the manor perched some miles further south atop a crumbling cliff side, it was often subject of dinner conversation. Still, the place drew both adventurous and mundane from around the world, and made the town of Welldown prosperous. Depending on whether you asked the bookbinder in the town square, or the man under the bridge eating rats, or even the lady of waiting in Lord Calamus lounge, the house was invariably host to living bed linens, a tribe of magical sprites and an entire legion of ethereal door knobs. Not a single man had ever returned from the bleak manor, and as far any knew they were both dead and alive. But, for whatever reason, tourists from around the globe traveled up the cliff face (which formed not long after the earthquake) and tested their luck.

All luck had failed to this point.

While the entire town of Welldown sprung up after the earthquake, the populace assured everyone that it had stood for as long as they had ever been their, and knew its full history. Of course, several stories were popular each month, and as the stories were often told and retold, no one was ever around to prove them for long. In a way, the swirling abyss of the house, which seemed to devour so many lives, attracted even more fresh meat.




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