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[hider=Humour-Slick Nepenthe (Gothic Suspense / Dark Romance + Adventure)]

Death comes for all--some sooner than most. As we walk that finely-threaded line, our days coming to life before us as our own clock approaches midnight, we strive to find value in the suffering of limitation, yet similarly fear an unbounded eternity with our own thoughts. Through life's cryptic triptych--its commencement, journey, and bitter conclusion--most spend a great deal of their time avoiding their conclusion, offering days upon weeks upon months upon years of their journey in the hopes of extending it. This brutal irony spread itself before you, written in mortal ink as your dying eyes rested upon the fine red of your mortal coil undone.

But, in gruesome truth, no rest lasts forever. Even eternity must eventually slip away into a further unknowable, beyond time, beyond space, beyond paltry concepts like 'here' and 'now.' In that unfathomable infinity, inside that outer dream, exists the soul. On puppet-strings did your mortal form walk, stride, sing and dance, and when the performance came to an end, when the strings wore themselves to breaking, twisted and tangled in their own special way, they were woven into a tapestry of being beyond being. The soul. The truth of which we are all comprised. 

The soul thinks, the soul knows, the soul [i]is.[/i] Yours, nestled with countless others, sits in brutal purgatory, where the end never comes. Where hunger never ceases, where thirst never quenches. Spirits older than you have braved its depths and come eventually undone, dissolving into the soil when their tight arabesque came to tatters, when their grip loosened and the threads fell to the nothing from whence they came.

The world cried to you, 'Encore!' 

And it is your encore to perform. Gods, kings, and madmen alike thread themselves between hill and vale, building endlessly intricate webs of sin and hedonism, bloated with the aimless untruth of those too weak-hearted to set foot upon that stage once more. In the crucible-catechism of undeath, it is up to you to walk these streets and find life again, or build a home for yourself among the wraith-stained cobblestone and resign yourself to your hunger... Or, perhaps, to find one whose strings intermingle so cleanly with yours, O puppet-twine in twain. 

Humour-Slick Nepenthe is a spooky little thing. Aesthetically big on the Bloodborne / Tim Burton vibes, it's a thoughtless thought piece that's all about the gruesome and the grim. Horrors abound as you wander the streets and alleys of Purgatory, meeting all manner of spirits, some twisted, some warped, some no longer anything approaching human, and still more having never been. A dark and calculating walk through the graveyard that plays with concepts like soulmates and what comes after death. Plus, there's always leaning into the monstrous nature of Purgatory and getting into cool fight scenes if that's your thing.
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