PhantomGear
The man who consumed his fear.
In any city, in any country, there's a mental institution or halfway house you can try any of these in. There were 2538 of these Objects, but 2000 were lost.
The remaining 538 must never come together. Ever.
These stories have been gathered from various sources, many of which are questionable at best, but they all follow a similar thread; they tell the tale of a number of Objects, which, when brought together, will bring about horrendous consequences, details of which drive most mad..
The veracity of the stories is always in question; this is how it is intended to be. Nobody really knows if these Objects are real, or if there are indeed a set number of Objects that exist in the world that want to be reunited. Speculation runs rampant; part of what makes the Holders stories so enticing is the possibility any person could go into a special institution, ask to visit a Holder, and be forced to undergo a test of power to earn an Object.
The Objects, while powerful and fearsome, lack the ability to freely gather together of their own volition, and so have called forth a need in certain individuals. These people become Seekers, their stories as twisted and damned as the Objects themselves. These Seekers have oft set out for three main reasons: to Seek for Power, to Seek for Reunion, or to Seek for Separation. Their goals are known to mutate and change them into villains and monsters but we can only hope that one with a just heart. prevails over these foes.
Which will you do?
The time has come, and seekers have become numerous. a war has begun to finally destroy the items, forever ridding the world of the threat of The Holders or The Seekers, or unit them, and bring the the world to it's knees.
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It was a dark, moonless night, when the faint sounds of footsteps echoed through the quiet streets. A young man dressed in a red cloak calmly patrolled the streets. His face was hidden behind the cloak, though his lips were visibly seen folded into a weak grin as he hummed to himself. Stepping into the gentle glow of a streetlamp, he glanced up, causing the hood of the cloak to slip back, and fall, letting his dull black hair blow in the gentle night breeze. "....Quiet night. Maybe the others really aren't coming this way."
The remaining 538 must never come together. Ever.
These stories have been gathered from various sources, many of which are questionable at best, but they all follow a similar thread; they tell the tale of a number of Objects, which, when brought together, will bring about horrendous consequences, details of which drive most mad..
The veracity of the stories is always in question; this is how it is intended to be. Nobody really knows if these Objects are real, or if there are indeed a set number of Objects that exist in the world that want to be reunited. Speculation runs rampant; part of what makes the Holders stories so enticing is the possibility any person could go into a special institution, ask to visit a Holder, and be forced to undergo a test of power to earn an Object.
The Objects, while powerful and fearsome, lack the ability to freely gather together of their own volition, and so have called forth a need in certain individuals. These people become Seekers, their stories as twisted and damned as the Objects themselves. These Seekers have oft set out for three main reasons: to Seek for Power, to Seek for Reunion, or to Seek for Separation. Their goals are known to mutate and change them into villains and monsters but we can only hope that one with a just heart. prevails over these foes.
Which will you do?
The time has come, and seekers have become numerous. a war has begun to finally destroy the items, forever ridding the world of the threat of The Holders or The Seekers, or unit them, and bring the the world to it's knees.
=============================================================================
It was a dark, moonless night, when the faint sounds of footsteps echoed through the quiet streets. A young man dressed in a red cloak calmly patrolled the streets. His face was hidden behind the cloak, though his lips were visibly seen folded into a weak grin as he hummed to himself. Stepping into the gentle glow of a streetlamp, he glanced up, causing the hood of the cloak to slip back, and fall, letting his dull black hair blow in the gentle night breeze. "....Quiet night. Maybe the others really aren't coming this way."
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