Information
Xeta has a minion!
Zeph the Sparalis
Zeph the Sparalis
Xeta
Legacy Name: Xeta
The
Storm MontreOwner:
Voodoo_855Age: 17 years, 5 months, 1 week
Born: December 18th, 2006
Adopted: 17 years, 5 months, 1 week ago (Legacy)
Adopted: December 18th, 2006 (Legacy)
Statistics
- Level: 255
- Strength: 637
- Defense: 637
- Speed: 636
- Health: 637
- HP: 622/637
- Intelligence: 796
- Books Read: 780
- Food Eaten: 3
- Job: Logistics Analyst
Sixteen shelves line a claustrophobic chamber. Figures perched atop crowd every inch of the ashen wood. These dolls yield every caricature a set of millennia can provide. Hundreds of colors faded, shrouded, and diluted in dust which at one time, might have looked like a vivacious carnival.
A cacophony of voices, though it is clear the stagnant air is undisturbed by any vibration of sound. Every voice trapped in an indestructible discord. The sounds of fear, depression, anger, hatred, envy, disdain, greed, loss- a full spectrum of torment, all confined together.
Her memory was gone with all sense of identity. Distress was the angst-plague that cut her senses. The deepest dissonance of her mind would be exposed to the voices, and then they would devour her too. She shrank into the earth flooring cringing at the pain. The voices were mind teeth striking into her mind, consuming the void where her memories once played. She was clawing, trying to grasp at where they had dissolved to, but all she could remember was awakening on the floor of this very room with a long needle in her arm.
Ready to forfeit, with the last of her strength she reached out and felt the silky textures of a doll and pulled it in. Upon closer scrutiny, she realized every doll had a few hundred needles rooted on their persons and then understood the droning voice’s origin as she felt more needles enter her skin.
As she attenuated there was finally a slick click from the door. All of the voices went silent. The shaman’s quiet footsteps filled the room to search for the unlucky intruder.
She was only four.
A cacophony of voices, though it is clear the stagnant air is undisturbed by any vibration of sound. Every voice trapped in an indestructible discord. The sounds of fear, depression, anger, hatred, envy, disdain, greed, loss- a full spectrum of torment, all confined together.
Her memory was gone with all sense of identity. Distress was the angst-plague that cut her senses. The deepest dissonance of her mind would be exposed to the voices, and then they would devour her too. She shrank into the earth flooring cringing at the pain. The voices were mind teeth striking into her mind, consuming the void where her memories once played. She was clawing, trying to grasp at where they had dissolved to, but all she could remember was awakening on the floor of this very room with a long needle in her arm.
Ready to forfeit, with the last of her strength she reached out and felt the silky textures of a doll and pulled it in. Upon closer scrutiny, she realized every doll had a few hundred needles rooted on their persons and then understood the droning voice’s origin as she felt more needles enter her skin.
As she attenuated there was finally a slick click from the door. All of the voices went silent. The shaman’s quiet footsteps filled the room to search for the unlucky intruder.
She was only four.
Pet Treasure
Box of Souls
Deranged Reject Voodoo Plushie
Voodoo Petit Four
Voodoo Plushie
Bubble Gum Ghosty Grapes
Bunny Voodoo Doll
Arid Voodoo Doll
Bleached Red Rreign Voodoo Doll
Bloodred Voodoo Doll
Blue Voodoo Doll
Cursed Voodoo Coffin
Cursed Voodoo Doll
Darkmatter Voodoo Doll
Graveyard Voodoo Doll
Green Voodoo Doll
Pink Voodoo Doll
Pumpkin Voodoo Doll Plushie
Twilight Voodoo Doll
Undyed Red Rreign Voodoo Doll
Voodoo Montre Plushie