05-13-2021, 08:11 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-13-2021, 08:14 PM by MrBongtastic.)
![[Image: download_36.png]](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/834218497360920609/842490003694157824/download_36.png)
Do you feel it? The Call?
The Futility of living, the endless spiral of life and death.
The Call, his call is real.
His Hunger, Endless.
The Dirt hears all, see's all, those who listen can hear his whispers.
The very Stones, speak his name:
Dok Zong.
Each day, more can see the Spiral. Painted on walls in blood by fanatics maddened by the thought of a boogieman out to feed on them. Others idealize it, worship the spiral and the futility it represents. His mark can be seen carved into the occasional tree, into stone walls or painted on doors of homes left abandoned. Those who have felt his mark first hand, carved into their flesh by the mad Dok Zong, can hear his call like a nagging scream at the back of their mind. Promises of solace, of freedom from the futility of life, of unity.
Many have left their homes seeking the Spiral, welcoming it as they fall into madness. Beggars howl of the vile Skeleton Prince and his unending hunger, the peace he offers as he feeds upon those too foolish to give in. Worse, are his Knights, those who roam in his name bearing the Mark of Zong, spreading his will across the land, carving into the skulls of the weak, ushering the worthy and willing into the very cult they belonged to.
The Order of the Futile Spiral grows with each day, United by the maddening hunger of the living earth.
All things belong to the dirt.
All things belong to him.
Have you heard his call?
The Futility of living, the endless spiral of life and death.
The Call, his call is real.
His Hunger, Endless.
The Dirt hears all, see's all, those who listen can hear his whispers.
The very Stones, speak his name:
Dok Zong.
Each day, more can see the Spiral. Painted on walls in blood by fanatics maddened by the thought of a boogieman out to feed on them. Others idealize it, worship the spiral and the futility it represents. His mark can be seen carved into the occasional tree, into stone walls or painted on doors of homes left abandoned. Those who have felt his mark first hand, carved into their flesh by the mad Dok Zong, can hear his call like a nagging scream at the back of their mind. Promises of solace, of freedom from the futility of life, of unity.
Many have left their homes seeking the Spiral, welcoming it as they fall into madness. Beggars howl of the vile Skeleton Prince and his unending hunger, the peace he offers as he feeds upon those too foolish to give in. Worse, are his Knights, those who roam in his name bearing the Mark of Zong, spreading his will across the land, carving into the skulls of the weak, ushering the worthy and willing into the very cult they belonged to.
The Order of the Futile Spiral grows with each day, United by the maddening hunger of the living earth.
All things belong to the dirt.
All things belong to him.
Have you heard his call?
(Feel free and DM me at MrBongtastic#5281 if you'd like to join a cult!)
![[Image: 9d59d5db70f8c5062bbc2f96c97da8d3.png]](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/668564778570088469/851011643630813195/9d59d5db70f8c5062bbc2f96c97da8d3.png)