[img]http://i.imgur.com/QRij9MW.jpg[/img] (A continuation of Part I) [b]Silence.[/b] The room was now engulfed in a pervasive darkness, impenetrable, that even the lights from outside the windows dare not tresspass further than the sill. [i]Click.[/i] A single beacon of light was lit. [b]"H-hey, you alright!?"[/b] Came a steady, raspy voice. The quiet beam managed to pierce through the dark, catching ashen rain red handed as it slowly fell upon everything. The choking stench of charred sandalwood permeated the senses, stinging eyes and nostrils alike. All the aftermath of a failed seance. ... ... ... [b]"Hey! Answer me darnit!"[/b] The beam of light jerked, as if disturbed by some brash gesture. Honestly, the detective was getting sick of the guest's cold attitude. The refusal to talk, the not explaining himself. Though little did he realize how difficult it was to even breath in here, much less talk, for normal humans. A pained, chortled cough was forced out in reply to satiate the detective. [b]"....Just ...peachy. "[/b] The torchlight swiveled around, looking for the sacarstic voice's source, quickly falling upon the stumbling form of the red haired man. He held the left side of his face with a spare hand, a single trickle of blood in between his fingers, while his other hand steadied himself as he stood up, maybe slightly rattled. [i]"Hrrr-!"[/i] and reeled back for another cough. [b]"At least you're alive."[/b] The detective remarked condescendingly. What an ironic statement it made when it was said by him. Especially him. [b]"I told you n'thing good would come off it."[/b] Torchlight flickered once more and soon fell upon the still unmoving corpse on the floor, or at the very least, it was moving no more - to both their relief. While his friend, maybe associate now, lit the way, the human slowly shambled over to the curtained wall to pick up the pieces of the broken oujia board, The saucer was utterly annihilated, it's clay remains strewn across the floor like a spoilt child's dinner. It was an ancient piece, dating all the way back to Trasylvanian gypsies back in the 1800s when they still roamed the countryside in caravans, but now, nothing more than cobblestone. .......such a waste. He knelt down to grab a piece when in the corner of his eye, he noticed something perculiar underside of the curtain drawn on the wall with some kind of glistening, tar-like substance. [i]Hmm?[/i] A sense of uneasiness came over, [i]but since when did these things matter?[/i] So he stood up defiantly and gave the curtain a good tug to see what was behind... [center][img]http://i.imgur.com/eaPk2iO.gif[/img][/center] A gruesome mural made the it entire wall it's canvas, what seemed like blood shimmering in the torchlight, splattered on every razor jagged line. Of teeth and eyes, of an open jaw from some ungodly creature. [i]This was ...[/i] [b]"What IS-!?"[/b] The one holding the light asked, more curious than fazed. He had seen many things, but it, whatever it was, was out of his avenue. [i]A Curse.[/i] [b]"I--I-I don't know,"[/b] The other man let the curtain slip from his hand and starting stepping backwards away from it... [center]---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[/center] [center]---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[/center] [center]---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[/center] But that was all a mere two hours ago, in the span such a inconsequential amount of time - the main city had morphed into something completely unrecognizable, a writhing scene of bloodshed and anger. The streets were run rampant with chaos. Firelight lit the horizon, screams still plagued the wreckage and humanoid shadows danced in the flames of the turmoil. Somewhere in the midst of all this, the throttle of a Mo-ped came to a gurgling stop. There. Before him stood a decreptit building, it's windows freshly shattered and the smell of kerosene tainted the very air... ....and It bore his name on the door plaque. [center][b]Welcome to Santa Somabra.[/b][/center]