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THE TREEHOUSE
Zhydo’rah
Such relentless activity within the mind of the one below her! It is as if the strange creature’s life was entirely invested in the act of thinking. So powerful and focused is the thinking that there is little room to intrude upon it. Indeed she would risk being crushed within its movements should she invade this mind. The laughing whispers stir within her breath at this.
Ah! Little Zhydo’rah, you are more now than you were within those tombs and there is nothing to fear even should the great power of that mind be turned upon you ...... O! Yes! For though the dead do not breath, still they move within the air, use it to form words in their mutterings and allow it to bear sound to their lifeless ears ..... Yes! O yes! This will not be difficult in the least .....
It moves from her nostrils, little more than a small breath of stale air, a tiny portion of a much greater draft, and enters the treehouse. It hovers about the little man who sits busily scribbling notes on little white napkins and as he mutters the surface thoughts of his mind, this breath of whispering laughter mingles itself with his words. Without realizing it, the little man becomes insecure in his thinking as the strange new words within his mutterings whisper the nightmare of flawed assumptions and unchecked data and of important information that has been forgotten. There is a burst flame upon the roof of the treehouse and the figure who squatted there is gone leaving little more than the stink of brimstone behind. But as Myron halts in his thinking and faces the nightmare of thought gone horribly off course, the dark hag of night is there within it to greet him. She smiles. No, this has not been difficult in the least.
ooc: Even the NPC's aren't safe. [img]graemlins/blueblink.gif[/img]
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