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This article is evil!
This article is about an evil version of The Matyr. Run. Run so far awa-ay-ay. Just ru-u-un. Run all night and day. Gotta get away.
|Dark Dungeon||Score: None, and you won't get any||Moves: Near death|
It is dark. You are not, whoever, likely to be a grue. Whatever's in here scares the fuck out of them. You spot an odd spectre in the corner. It is definitely male. He stares at you with red eyes. His silver hair waves in a dark and somehow visible wind. Suddenly, several small, dark purple creatures are visible around him. They give you very dirty looks. He raises a hand to you, beckoning to you.
You look down at your legs. They are moving towards him. You try to stop, but you have no power over yourself, for some reason.
"State your name," he demands.
"A sarcastic type, eh?" he says in his dark, gravelly voice. "Feh, return to your home." He snaps his fingers and you find yourself back with Mack-the-Random.