Interlude: What is happening with the blind one anyways?

----------------------------------------

The blind one, The Old Man, or The Deep Dark.

----------------------------------------

The void is an incomprehensible space beyond human perception and understanding. The Deep Dark remembers once being a colossal and shapeless mass of glowing mist, with a core of swirling chaos and energy at its center. Now he is an old man sitting on the beach, waiting for something.

His dry voice cracks as he talks to himself, unaware of the world around him, “Was I a cosmic entity or god-like figure, rather than a human? I miss…” He pauses and takes in a deep breath, his chest shifts the layer of dust that had settled on him. After an age, he spoke again, “I miss chaos and the destructive. I feel like that is the true incomprehensible nature of the universe. This void… is so vast.”

“Let me look at my puppies,” The old man in the gray robes, sitting on the simple wooden chair, looking out over the dried ocean spread his arms while a glowing purple circle opened before him.

At that moment, he watches the three champions of the attack squad being swarmed by spiders and then almost dying from their own spells. The old man let out a cackle as he watched them struggle. A creepy smile settled on the old man, it is one that is overly exaggerated and forced, with the corners of the mouth stretched unnaturally wide, revealing too many teeth. It was a smile that seemed to be plastered on the man’s face, but didn't reach his eyes, making it appear insincere and unsettling.

He finally spoke, “They should have seen it coming! I would have, from a mile away, but that boy had been too busy showing off to his friends to notice the rock in his path.”

The old man's eyes are most predatory, suggesting that the Blind One is up to no good and revels in the fear he is going to elicit.

“Finally some amusement,” as the Nyx is groaning in pain and Bloodthrone places his hand on her. The old man, raised out of his chair, still holding open the viewing portal and took a step forward, still laughing, and shook his head. "Kids these days," he muttered. "No sense of caution."

His laughter only grew louder as the friends rushed to each other's side, trying to help each other. The old man couldn't help but feel a sense of superiority as he watched them scramble. He had been young once too, but he had always been more careful than these reckless kids. It was a small victory, but it made him feel better about his own age and wisdom.

“I think this calls for a drink,” and the Blind One starts to dust himself off.

A man without eyes in a black and gray suit would likely have a distinctive and eerie appearance. Without eyes, his eye sockets would be empty and likely covered with scarring. His skin may be pale and appear somewhat gaunt, as if he had been deprived of nourishment or rest for some time.

The old man turned around and closed the viewing portal in his hands. He then, with his skeletal hands, snapped, summoning a dimly lit alleyway, taking a step forward and hunched over. His wrinkled face showed the wear and tear of a long life.

“Enough of this,” he said firmly. Suddenly, he straightened up and snapped his fingers, again. In an instant, his appearance changed.

His skin became smooth and wrinkle-free, and his hair turned from gray to jet black. He was now a young man in a sleek black suit, with a crisp white shirt and a red tie. The transformation was so sudden and startling that it took a moment for him to register what had just happened. He glanced down at his hands, which were now smooth and unblemished. He took a step forward, testing out his new body. He felt strong and powerful, and the world seemed to open up before him in a way that it hadn't before. He smiled to himself, reveling in his newfound youthfulness. Reaching into his breast pocket he pulled out a pair of sunglasses and covered his blind eyes.

As he walked down the alley, the suit shifted between black and gray but it was always well tailored and fitted, giving the impression of a formal or professional appearance. It was made of a high-quality material and all traces of dust had left the Blind One. He was cleaned and well-maintained. The suit had a traditional design from the Victorian Era on Earth shifting every few moments between a single or double-breasted jacket combined with matching trousers. The outfit was accompanied by a white dress shirt, a red slim tie, and polished black leather shoes.

The old man, changed by his chaos into the man without eyes. The man in black. Anyone with a perception skill could feel that the Man without eyes appears ominous and mysterious, with a distinctive and unsettling presence. The man without eyes had a commanding presence, despite his lack of sight. He appears almost otherworldly, as if he was not quite human. His hair, slicked back with precision, was as black as the night sky. His skin was unnaturally pale, as if he had not seen the sun in years.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

As he traveled down the alley he stopped at a simple black door, whistling to himself, “Time for a drink.”

He made his way through the door, the music hit him like a wave. The jazz band was in full swing, and the sound was intoxicating. The dim lighting of the room cast everything in a hazy glow, and the air was thick with smoke. Despite the commotion, the Blind One walked with ease and grace, his footsteps sounding heavy and deliberate on the wooden floorboards.

The patrons of the bar were a motley crew, all dressed in their finest suits and fedoras, but none of them human. There were five of them playing cards at a central round table. The first alien was a tall, slender creature with iridescent blue skin and six arms. His large, oval-shaped eyes glowed in the dim lighting of the bar, and his elongated fingers delicately held a martini glass. The Blind One could tell that this one was hiding a few cards in their many hands.

The one next to him was a small, furry alien with a round head and big, expressive eyes. Her fur was a deep shade of purple, and she wore a tiny bowler hat on her head. She sipped on a fruity drink with a long straw, her nose twitching as she took in the exotic scents of the bar.

Across the table from the squirrel girl was a squid-like creature with long, slimy tentacles that wrapped around its glass of beer. His skin was a mottled green and brown, and his eyes were large and unblinking. Despite its appearance, it seemed to be enjoying the raucous atmosphere of the bar and only half paying attention to the card game, more focused on the squirrel.

The man without eyes noticed that the one likely to win was a humanoid figure with metallic silver skin and eyes that glowed a bright red. He was drawn to that one for an odd reason. It wore a dark suit and fedora, and its movements were precise and calculated. It didn't seem interested in socializing with the other patrons, instead choosing to sit and observe the game.

The last was a trio of insectoid aliens with hard, chitinous exoskeletons and large compound eyes. They chittered and clicked amongst themselves, their mandibles snapping as they ordered a round of drinks. Despite their intimidating appearance, they seemed to be friendly and jovial, waving their antennae in time to the jazz music playing in the bar.

The Blind One turned from the card game, still whistling his own toon, and walked over to the bar.

The bartender, a jolly man with a bushy mustache, was quick to greet the man without eyes. His smile faltered slightly when he realized the man's handicap, but he recovered quickly. "What can I get for you, sir?" he asked.

The Blind One paused for a moment, scanning the room once more. He knew that he was in the right place. He could feel it. "I'm looking for information," he finally said.

The bartender raised an eyebrow. "Information about what?"

The Blind One leaned in close, his voice low and threatening. "I'm looking for a good book. An old book. One that might spark some life around here."

The bartender's eyes narrowed. "I might know something about that. But it'll cost you."

The man without eyes reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick roll of bills. He slapped them down on the counter, the sound echoing throughout the room. The bartender's eyes widened at the sight of the money, but he maintained his composure.

"Follow me," he said, gesturing towards a booth in the back corner of the bar.

The Blind One nodded and followed the bartender to the booth. As they walked, he couldn't help but feel the eyes of the other patrons on him. He knew that he stood out with his black and gray suit and his unsettling lack of eyes.

Once they were seated, the bartender leaned in close. "So, what do you know about this book?"

The Blind One hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I don't know much. Only that it's old and it's powerful. Oh, Snap, and it belongs to the Huntress. The last I saw it, it was on Mors, in the ocean blue."

The bartender stroked his mustache thoughtfully. "Do you have a name? An author, perhaps?"

The man without eyes shook his head. “But, I am thirsty. I need a drink.” The Blind One licked his lips, thinking of his last meal on the beach.

The bartender sighed. "Well, that's not much to work with. But I'll keep my ear to the ground. If I hear anything, I'll let you know."

The man without eyes nodded, knowing that he would have to be patient. He couldn't rush this. The book was too important. He leaned back in the booth and closed his eyes, listening to the jazz music and the chatter of the other patrons. He would wait for as long as it took to find the book, no matter what.

“But I am so thirsty,” the Blind One whined to himself and with a snap of his fingers, he was alone in the room.

“I have been patient this long, I can keep waiting, but now for my drink.” He turned his head to survey the room as he drank. The patrons and bartender were turned to dust, and a large glass filled to the brim with a dark red fluid. With his free hand he reopened his viewing portal to watch his puppies at work.