The Obsidian Chamber Of Spinning Looms

Petrified lifeless Shells of withering decay. Take these words from thy internal dismay, they stand in motionless putrescence staring with eyeless cacophony. Parasitic anomalies flow out from the statuesque mannequins. Howling winds flow through the halls, ghastly Picturesque frames Hang on the worm eaten walls. A multitude of dark rooms are present with grandiose displays of torturous morbidities, Amongst all the rooms with twisted frames of sinister entities brandishing 
Bronze apparatuses for mental decay, lies one betwixt that none may ever want to convey. The Obsidian Chamber of Spinning Looms Is the name, It is a place where no mortal will ever rest in solitude, but only to remain in stagnation until no sanity is left and all ill-deeds be done in vain. Behold The room of a convulsing Mass whose corporeal form has been surpassed Through ritualistic conjuration of Its soul, to entombment beneath the threads from the shrouded operants of the spinning looms. The puppeteers pull the serpentine strings that stretch out like quivering snakes, coiling around the skin, toiling through pulleys until meeting ends with the looms of impetuous devotion. They writhe in perpetual motion,expressing no signs of empathy or emotion. Empty faces of no age and timeless decay is all that is left within the beholders of disdain. Rancid asbestos and the stench of rotting wood Of the house fills the air, spine tingling creaking is heard as the rocking chairs move and the looming wheels twirl in circular motion, the strings then move asynchronous against the surrogates limbs. Behold Antiquated Mummification of the vessel, sepia threads become the shroud with which may relinquish an omnipresent deity Fashioned in the arts of the esoteric. The evil rebirth beholds itself with dark hollowed out eyes, raising its hand of transcendental omnipotence the looming wraiths succumb in servile

obsequiousness to vanquish all that explore the olde dark house alas the ritual is complete.