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Custom Title: Dum spiro, scribo
Joined: 1-June 13
Last Seen: Sep 22 2013, 05:47 AM
Local Time: Jun 28 2017, 02:07 AM
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Jun 1 2013, 05:18 PM
Epsilon is an Altered. It is unknown whether he has had any contact with any others of the Altered, or believes himself to be the only one.
Epsilon has very thin bristles of a dark material rather than hair, and only a sparse amount of it. His mouth is fused closed and can hardly be seen. His back bulges oddly as his spine and his entire nervous system is coated in a thick substance, possibly the 'ichor' or 'Slender Man Slime'.
No longer working for Slender Man, nor working against him, Epsilon prefers to stay away from the eldritch, hoping that by hiding his past can be forgotten. Unfortunately, his altered appearance may limit this.
Currently seen in: A Closed Mouth Tells No Tales
Jun 1 2013, 03:04 PM
A short story.
"A closed mouth tells no tales."
Isn't that what they say? A proverb, an old saying. In my case, it's not entirely true. I can still write, if my shaking fingers allow me to grip a pen and put down on paper my story.
My name is long forgotten. I go by Epsilon - the creature that changed me has gone through five names in his abominable existence; Set, the White Emperor, the Drowned Knight, the Ghost and now the Lord of the Forest. Five names, five horrific monsters throughout history. Epsilon is the fifth Greek letter and I bear this name as a permanent reminder of my shame.
When I was only a boy, I enjoyed playing in woods and forests. I was an avid tree climber, and I loved the smell of woodlands in Summer.
Maybe I frequented the forests too much. Maybe it was that which drew me to his attention. In any case, all I remember is the forest leaves slowly turning black and withering, decaying.
The day He found me began like any other, climbing alone. My parents were following a woodland trail. I was an only child.
The next part I only remember in flashes.
My laughter as I swung between branches.
My laughter dying as the branch started moving.
My fear as it pulled me along.
My terror as I saw what it truly was.
I will tell nobody of it. I still wake from nightmares in a sweat after dreaming of it.
I would like to say that He took me away and I woke with these... Deformities. That would be a lie. I was conscious throughout the entire excruciating process.
My lips were torn open, hundreds of tiny needle sharp shards of darkness piercing them and knitting them back together before a burning heat fused them as one, melting the skin and flesh underneath.
My hair was stripped, replaced by bristles. To make me a better tracker, no doubt, yet it made the pain no better.
The worst was still to come. He turned me round and with one movement snapped my back. All I recall is screaming and wondering why I wasn't dead yet.
I felt the hot gel pour into my spine and coat my nerves. As it cooled and solidified, I felt tendrils invading my mind and whispering dark thoughts to me, talking of the glory I would win as one of my master's Altered servants. But I could only think of the pain.
Set free? Only to be called upon for His bidding. Whenever He wished someone found, I could do nothing but respond. My body bent to His will, when He willed it.
But I still had some will left, enough to escape. It was not as hard as I thought, perhaps He could sense my despair and allowed me to leave His service. He knew I would not survive long back in my old life with my changes.
He was right. I did not even try to get that life back.
He is my master whenever He wishes, so there is only one way to stop the endless, helpless killing.
I must kill one last time.
Will I die when I stab my heart? Or will I find that only black tar seeps from the wound, healing me, dooming me to serve Him for evermore?
A closed mouth tells no tales. A silenced one tells less.