34... 35... 36.

Solomon's gaze slowly rises from his feet. He stands on vacant Paper Street, watching the soft moonlight illuminate the dark doors before him. Even with such paltry visibility, his keen eyes clearly pick out the shattered lock that would of once bared his way. As if to punctuate his thoughts, a stiff breeze kicks up, gently nudging the ajar door outwards. The hinges give but the slightest protest in turn.

Habitually known for his stealthy ways, tonight, Solomon goes about unshielded by his surreptitious powers. No, tonight, there will be no need of guile. He shall enter brazenly into this blasphemous place, exposing all its unsightly falsities before the bright flame of truth.

With a bone-rattling crack, Solomon's boot connects with the old door. It gives way with little argument. For a moment, he stands upon the threshold, beholding the darkness within as motes of dust settle about his person. Unsheathing his trusted blade in one smooth motion, he takes a needless breath before plunging into the Cimmerian shade beyond.  

--Last edited by Solomon on 2009-05-21 00:44:16 --