Into The Noise Dungeon
The flickering lantern, the last remaining glimmer of light to illuminate these peculiar, impossible, failing, unreasonable, deranged landscapes.... The world is a dead and fractured canvas. An eternal night, festering, gnawing away at the putrescent corpse of a reality that faltered long, long ago....
The hooded figure wanders through this Mephisto-psychedelic-electric night, lantern in hand.... Or is it the lantern itself that commands its bearer, steering him along this eternal path-deroute? It casts its glow upon the colours of a failing fauna and flora.... Remnants of deathly undergrowth in surreaaaaal hues.... Caves encrusted with fuchsia-gold-blackened lichen, poisonous fungi, gnawed bones, spiralling hieroglyphs in a state of abject disarray, oozing unease....
Nobody knows whether this being is the last vestige of a bygone humanity, or whether it is even human at all. It hardly matters. The night delights in parading its luminescent, vertiginous splendours, flaunting its glittering, adulterated horrors, its bloodless disintegration, its tangled mass of roots reshaping an anti-world from the suppurating remains of an age long since extinguished....
A journey to the end of everything, towards the highest peaks of the nonsensical, all the way to celestial rot, that which coos in a tongueless language, folded in upon itself, black and glistening, buried somewhere between the wood shavings of a disembowelled tree and the damp earth, teeming, teeming, grinning.
-Sir Kuliktavikt
