IllusiveWyvern

Warning: Creepy/gross imagery Called by some ancient, crying, phantom that lay somewhere deep within these decaying and archaic, rotting walls; Crypt traverses his boundary in search of the call. It had resonated one day somewhere within the unexplored depths of his boundary, barely perceivable at first until it grew into something that could not be ignored. Though it can not always be heard it will frequently disturb any semblance of peace by making that same wretched noise. Crypt has avoided it as long as he possibly could, but it demands his attention and he can no longer continue to feign ignorance, no matter how much he wishes to.  As Crypt continues on his path the silence is yet again pierced by the ghastly call. It is languishing, mourning, a voice crying out for something, begging, for something. What that something is, Crypt can not be sure of, but he can feel its desperation. Its desperation pushes Crypt to move faster in order to soothe it, or if not soothe it, silence