[quote][i]Veration[/i][/quote] An old, archaic and cream-papered journal lies astray in the back of a shop of antiquities. [i]Only hushed whispers are spoken, small and insignificant murmurs in the night. Most who say those things end up with slit throats, jugulars sliced open with blood leaking from agape necks. He's wayfaring. Goes from place to place, comes and goes at a whim. Seen many places with few to recount it. People say it's got an aura to it. Something glowing and strange surrounding him, filling the air around him. Most who come close to him die. Brains explode in their skulls, hearts stop suddenly. It's like a cancer. Those who have seen him up close are untrustworthy; most accounts tell of the amorphous blade coiled around his wrist, extending and retracting into a long and wicked edge. Some say he has feline eyes, green and luminescent, others say his eyes were cold and dead, like that of the shark. Some say his teeth were blunt and nearly filed away; some say his teeth were in many rows, thin and sharp as needles, chattering and vibrating. They see him soar through the air in some time of obelisk, a phallic and alien thing with a pointed spire as its nose and powerful back thrusters that leave behind black exhaust. Those trapped within it crumple to the ground on the spot, dead within a quarter of a second. Most agree he's seen somewhere. Bumming it with junkies on old trash freighters, too strung out to notice the disembodied shadow beside them. Slow dancing in the long, regal halls of kings with a nubile young maiden, virginity intact and begging to be courted. He lurks within the shadows of rooms and stalks there, tall and bent, an old, spindly, wicked tree. I am compromising my life by even speaking of him. Watch out for him. His danger is unparalleled.[/i] The rest of the page is plastered vermillion, old, crusted and engrained blood saturating the page.