The Sun rises on a sky of black, sending terror through those who voices lack. Though born of fears throughout the years, the whisperers know. They know the horrors of the pattern weavers. They know the House that hunts them as deceivers. A heart was stolen, love was lost. Now Now Now and forever, the price the sluagh pay for what they have sown. To avenge the wrong done to their hearts. The Varich hunt the nightmares, and shift through their parts. Peel, peel, peel back the wiggling flesh. Tear tear, entrails from below the chest. One day they'll make the slaugh scream- that is now and forever the Pattern weavers dream. Some wrongs can never be righted, some skulks deserve to be afrighted- And so the shadows flee the Scions of the Sun. If you are sluagh too? I suggest you run.
