One You Weren't Looking For
It is the night and you. Just walking through the forests of the world. But you see and notice something fall from off the path on to it. A miserable figure it is in appearance you cannot help but note upon coming closer. It is dark and you are alone but so is this one. The closer you get, the more you cannot help but note that this poor soul must be a truly lost individual for the clothes are sorry rags and the hair is unwashed and unkempt.
The object of your concern and pity is curled in a shaking, fetal position. It is not a cold night, but this one is not dressed for the elements and is a gaunt, thin thing now. But then you stop short. Why? You plant your staff gifted by the Kirin Tor and gently do your best to recall a few spells just in case of danger. Aezeroth is not the same place it once was. But then you quietly lower your thoughts of a fight. There is no reason to fear deception here, after all the minds of the people are no longer under attack since the Empire fell. The last of those who brought madness are no more.
Your ears here something as you kneel. Rapid mumbling, muttering, whispering, and the figure you realize is trembling. The feet are bare and in miserable condition. How long has this one been walking like this? What happened? Turning him over you start at the eyes. Glass orbs with grey, ashen fog all over them.
A flash of something in them and then the hands lunge forward. Caught! You are held in an impossible grip and, forced upon your knees, your hands spasm open under the pain. You are held prisoner by something terrible. That is all your mind can comprehend. That, and something else, as bloodless lips peel back from the hollowed creature who was once a man.
The dark deepens into something more; primal and heavy, suffocating, and filled with substance in a way that speaks of true horror and fear. The night… IS ALIVE. Flashes that are not lightning occur in the blackness and through them… come glimpses. Flashes of what lurks beneath the fabric of existence. Of them. The trees flash into an abomination riddled with purple pupils and the branches become tapering and wormlike, writhing and curling about in the windless air. Gone.
A frog nearby suddenly opens as if to croak and vomits many tentacles only for them to promptly vanish back down its throat. Like they never were. The bricks of the road flash mouths and terrible eyes. The dark begins to speak.
Whispers. All around. Everywhere. Penetrating. Invading and filling. The bushes become eldritch makeshift things with blackened rot upon themselves and the trunks sprouting many limbs and slide upon slime-covered tentacles. A thornbush gains mouth after mouth upon its branches among the thorns and it reaches as if to embrace you. Whispering and promising of how it will help you to know what you fail to understand once it eats your eyes.
You have found someone you weren't looking for. The flashes of what is real and not fail to keep your mind whole for that is not of their nature. The noise of the whispering is terrible. A flash of a great lidless eye. Behold a fleshy mound of not but many mouths and no face. The depths cry out in a multitude of many minds as a large form spreads out and open upon the true depths that even the mind cannot reach. A many limbed thing of violent rage from before the beginning of Aezeroth arise in front and promises you a death indescribable in mortal tongue.
Your captor peers into your soul with different eyes, so many terrible nightmares flashing behind their surface. Its mouth vomits from its open gape eyes on stalks and starry limbs. It flashes purple-black and the hair of snakes and other horrors. Back to an almost emaciated being. "You cannot see yet. But YOU WILL. The last of the whispers will open what lies behind your eyes."