Thread: Empire - City of Magic (Black_Out and darkest_fate)

For most the supernatural was never easy to explain, or discern. Even when it was all around you. Science often sought to discredit the unknown. If it couldn't be fit into theory and formed into undeniable fact then it was dismissed to rubbish. This suited most people's thoughts on the matter. Even the believers of such mysterious forces often lacked the means to truly gain clarity into these unaccountable energies. Silently haunting largely forgotten and unrecognizable echoes. Remnants of severity stained an aura upon places, people, and things. Fractured fragments of the past that could still be heard, felt, or tasted, in an unexplained way that might cause ones hair to rise up on end, or send a shivering chill coursing down the length of a spine. Such marked places could be found in any corner of the globe, though most never realized the subtle clues of their existence even when they stood among-st them. Dim memories lived on in an ethereal state. Hidden hallmarks of vulgar transgressions and lucid elation's that spoke into the endless void of the tragedies and triumphs that time just could not simply sweep away. Empire City had more then it's fair share of such latent foundations of untapped spiritual wells. Very few shed light and warmth, in the criss-crossed streets and the shadows of the looming buildings of the great metropolis darkness and horror was far more prevalent. A dilapidated rickety old stone bridge that had fallen into a state of disservice. It passed over an abandoned and dysfunctional set of rusted train tracks that that bore through the graffiti crusted tunnel beneath the old bridge. Trash littered the place blown in by the gusting breezes that swirled and swept the litter of the streets here when the sky was restless. Another form of refuse could be found here, in the shape of desperate men and women that sought sanctuary from society's burdens. Addicts and vagabonds took shelter in the shadows offered and comfort in the relative silence of the blotted out city surrounding the sunken refuge. If they could of heard the screams, the howls of horror that had drowned this place in such negative energies. If they would of realized what terrible violations had occurred within the lightless tunnel, they might of taken shelter elsewhere. Even so the goosebumps that riddled the skin, the sensation of dread that lingered, had driven the clear headed to herd elsewhere. Those whose minds were to far foggy and polluted found the extra solitude here to be hospitable, comfortable, and welcoming. Thrill seekers of the dark and macabre came and went over the years since to explore the call of it's gruesome history. They knew of the stories of the tunnels tragic past, of the atrocities that had unfolded there, and the rumor of the haunting that lingered on. Decades back when the bridge had first fallen out of service, over the course of a long lost summer's breadth, while the secret of the tunnels tranquility was relatively undiscovered, abominations of humanity's flaws bloomed here. Strings of disappearances and the gruesome remains of the young women that had up and vanished without a trace would come to be discovered in an all but forgotten storage room found beyond a rusted old metal door within the tunnels heart. Savage and unspeakable acts had long ago bled into the very surrounds and left the land tainted from the tragedy of the rape and murder of so many. The richest stain of all belonged to the perpetrator of these foul and loathsome deprivations of humanity when his life was ended by a vigilante, and the string of terror ended in more bloodshed. His twisted soul had taken root and overwhelmed the vestige energies of those victims that still could not find escape from the swallowing mire of his presence. He and those he kept with him here remained in the very essence of the stone blocks. They festered in the patches of dirt and rubble. Suffused the choking stale air of the hidden room and permeated out into it's surrounds. It was all but untapped and ripe. Until recently, when the mysterious men and women, bearing horn adorned masks of frightful animalistic and beastly composition descended upon the place one moonless night. The sparse occupants left them to their deeds and dispersed without provocation, so unnerving was their intrusive silent visitation. In the epicenter of that ebony dark and cloudy night they called to gruesome and ancient monoliths of powers from threads of the past. Vile chants were carried aloft by the wind and those sinister words were heard by those who first spoke them long ago. Archaic sigils were carefully forged over the chaotic jumble scrawling's that defaced the tunnels walls. A timeless force of sin and desire answered the summons at the behest of something far greater then itself. It came to take sustenance from the undrunk feast of carnal delights that remained here. By the time the dawn had cut away the night and showered the city with it's illuminating warmth, the enigmatic Cult of Horns had dissipated back into the ranks of society within which they hid. Their markings of ceremonial summons though were left behind, camouflaged within the graffiti strewn walls. Hearkening to that ancient force, merging the presence with the dark deeds of the tunnels not so distant past. When those that favored the tunnels shelter returned, few choose to remain for long. Those whose hearts were already dark, or minds were twisted about with madness remained, kept company by the indiscernible presence of the hidden beast that dominated even this places grim history and guarded over it's purpose.