Scotland. An undisclosed graveyard. An unearthed casket. A fog rises in the darkness... But there is no fear. Although you're aware that standing in such a macabre scene should have your heart racing and your body trembling, you are oddly still. There is a certain warmth in this haze that puts you at ease. Then, from out of the mist they begin to appear - a contingent of sorcerers, cloaked in black. They call themselves Atragon and they explain that you're experiencing the effects of a powerful spell, dubbed "I, Necromancer". The warmth you feel grows as a voice from beyond fills your head with tales and visions of blood, death, and magic. You hear fuzzy riffs walking the line between delight and destruction with melodies that could usurp the funeral march and guide to souls to the grave. A guitar whines with a dizzying wah and shoots sparks into your mind. You are aware of the gloomy terror around you but the enchantment keeps you insulated from dread. In fact, all that once seemed grim now invigorates you as you embrace the end and wallow in morbid ecstasy. Then all at once, a chill down your spine as their sorcery begins to fade. Grief swells as the final notes ring out. Guilt returns. As the sound dies away you are left with a cold void within where once the thrill of doom did sing. And so it shall remain, until the necromancers cast their magic once more and invite you back to frolic in death's maw. -Brandon
No comments:
Post a Comment