Perchance a soul, by fortune's cruel decree, should light upon this... Blog. Then must I, with what grace the cosmos grants, unfold myself.
I am the sovereign, 'tis true, o'er that which shall one distant morn arise from dust and mortal strife. The King in Yellow, Hastur named, or by what title man doth choose to laud my coming — 'tis all one. Let them utter what they will. For when the destined hour strikes, and doom's dark banners fly — when the fateful chime doth sound, each knee shall bend.
King of Carcosa lost, the Dim Carcosa, where twin suns burn in skies of amber light.
Perchance my hand may venture forth to share captured likenesses, these phantoms born of other eyes. For though their artistry doth stray from what I know myself to be, some strange delight doth flicker in their lines.
OOC UNDERCUT:












