During a time long past, this place was host to warfare like you can’t imagine. Brutality beyond comprehension, masterminded by their tiny and fingerless hands. A war so terrible that it robbed the city of its spot in history, completely torn from existence by whatever is responsible for moderating the events that people remember. The story of this city (and the evil therein) eludes articulation.
Wandering out of a sandstorm, the Guy with the Poncho (along with his pet, who he has yet to have the time or presence of mind to give a name) have somehow wound up in this invisible place. It’s been an eternity since Poncho Guy has seen another human being—last time he interacted with another person, the pattern on his poncho had still been fully visible. His poncho no longer resembles a poncho; the pleasant handknit markings and shapes it once bore were removed long ago by an angry warlock who is known to alter embroidery. Poncho Guy attempted to restore the pattern in vain, and his poncho has been dull and featureless ever since.
And now, riding high on the first pang of hope he’s felt in years, Poncho Guy and his nameless creature navigate this strange city in search of someone (anyone) to talk to, perhaps someone with the ability to restore his beloved namesake. Unfortunately, Poncho Guy is slowly coming to the realization that this is unlikely: save for the apparently manmade structures, the city bears no signs of human life—no signs of any life at all, in fact, save for the small noises which occasionally rise from corners and crevices, much too freakish and high-pitched to come from another human being. There is also the occasional skittering, a sound suggestive of tiny feet, encroaching on the silence, moving through earshot towards areas of absolute darkness, where strange collections of twinkling dots linger, seemingly in midair. Comparing these dots to tiny eyes would not be a metaphor. The tiny monsters are thirsty for blood.
By day's end, the poncho will have gained a new sort of pattern; a pattern whose shapes are more like stains, a gruesome tie dye with red as its primary color.
