
The Whistling Man |

The Whistling Man's smile turns into a terrible leer...it's just too long, his face and mouth seeming to bend unnaturally, maddeningly.
"You won't let it? You won't let it? You won't let it? You won't let it? Youwontletit?" The words erupt from his mouth in a chaotic mess. He only says the phrase once, but somehow each way it could be said is said together...separately...all at once. It's terrifying and otherworldly. Something akin to the monster of each person's nightmares is in that phrase and it chomps at each listener's sanity.
His voice and tone escalate, the cadence wrong in all the most horrific ways.
"Is that what you believe, Corinne?! That these fools are the heroes!?! That they can prevent the young one's destiny?!?
Laughter booms from nowhere. It is not the Whistling Man. It comes from within the darkness that cloaks him. The nonexistence which coats his frame laughs.
"I have seen where this river flows as well, Chroniker. Your anomalous kind are not the only ones that can see time as it will be. She will fulfill her purpose and my master will correct the mistakes of creation itself! You know this to be true. your heroes will fail. It has been foretold. Just because you have chosen to include these innocents...they can change nothing!" The word "innocents" is not what he says, it is not what the oblivion inside him says, but it is all the mind can remember.
While he speaks, the shattered Lyre of Lunacy begins to regrow in his hands. The wooden shards filling in and curving into a beautiful polished shape while thick strings begin to stretch and reach for the struts on the opposite ends.
"To commemorate the victory of tonight, I think I'll play a little song!" The man/monster/darkness says with a smile too long/angled/intangible. "But first to set the note."
And the Whistling Man begins to whistle...
Everyone make a Will Save DC 50. If Arielle has physically touched your character in any way add +30 to your roll. If you have any kind of ear protection, add another +5.