The once majestic front door is now a decomposed memory of its former grandeur, the glass it once held cracked and blackened, as if something stood behind it watching the town with ardent eyes. The wood of the door is rotted and cracking, and appears as though it will crumble to dust upon a moments notice. The courtyard that holds traces of once holding a vast garden, with luscious trees, has given way to overgrown weeds, from which can be heard the chimed chorus of various insects and the slithering and hissing of unseen beasts lie in wait. The trees once held an exotic fruit, and bore beautiful petals of small flowers, which can still be seen lying on the ground in various stages of decomposition. The might of the trees has left with time, the branches held high no longer, the leaves drooping near to the ground. The trees serve one purpose, however, that of hiding the house from unsuspecting eyes. The entirety of the household is tainted by the shadows of darkness, hiding the telling details from view of the unwary.

Approaching the house seems to activate the shadows, the lights held close begin to flicker, and eventually extinguish themselves. The house is entered easily enough, the boards will no longer hold up to much exertion. Inside one will find that the entryway, or what was once an entryway, is strewn with the broken furniture, seemingly thrown against the walls in a fit of rage. The splinters lie in wait of unsheltered extremities, and the dents and scratches in the walls beg for attention.

Everything in the room seems to be composed of layers of dust, and held together only by the cobwebs that decorate the room. Small misshapen footprints can be seen amongst the sheets of grey, along with various insects, spiders dangling from the archways, the piercing eyes of malevolent rats staring back from every direction, and the grayness that has overtaken the complex. Stairs once led to the upper hallway of the home, but have since crumbled into piles of dust and debris amongst the carnage on the floor. Frayed ropes now serve as the only apparent method of ascending to the upper story, which is lost in the waning light.

Faint whispering can be heard, even felt, from the cracks in the walls, the ceiling, everywhere. As the first step is taken into the domicile, the floor creaks in anguish, and is the last noise to be heard for some time. All of the mutterings, the crawlings, have ceased, as though to listen for the newcomer. The only exit not blocked off by rotting boards lies to the right, beneath the carnage of stairway.

Attempting to open this door will prove fruitful, for the master of the house lies within. An emaciated man lay propped against the wall, in the far corner of the room. His gaunt appearance is hidden only by the unkempt hair and beard that grows from his face and head. His eyelids are held wide open, almost seeming to be pinned back from his eyes. The sightless orbs seem to glow with a radiance all their own, a faint, barely visible blue incandescence. The mans flesh is drawn tightly over his skeleton, his veins can be seen pulsing beneath. He keeps the majority of his body hidden by a tattered brown cloth, probably once a fine robe. As the door opens noiselessly, the man lifts his head, cocks his ear to the lack of sound, the rats and insects crawl to their holes. He feels the presence of the intruder, the hair on his arms begins to rise, his pulse to quicken. Closer inspection reveals that the man is bound to the wall by shackles, rusted almost to the point of being useless. He whispers for the intruder to come no closer, but onward they press. His lips begin to move, as though he were trying to remember how to speak.

"If you must come closer, then heed my words. Let me tell you a story," the man lets out in hushed tones. "My name is Lorimar, I hail from a lost village called Erindal. In the land from which I come, I was of high import. I was born with the face you see before you, I have never learned to see things as you might. In time, I learned that I could see into the hearts of men, could ease their pains and sufferings. I used my gift to help the people of my village, as first their counselor and then a source of information."

He pauses, and sits in silence for a few moments before continuing, "Soon I was taken from poverty into the king's own castle, to serve as his advisor, and later as his friend. He came to me with problems of personal concern and royal import. It was here that I had found a home."

Lorimar's voice fades from use. He sits there in silence, attempting to wet his dry mouth and parched tongue with salivation. The room is cloaked in silence for some time, until Lorimar musters the nerve to speak again.

"People from far and wide came to me for advice. With my abilities as a delver of their thoughts, they would not have to relate to me their problems, I could see it in their thoughts. I found that not only could I see into their minds for their concerns, but also I could see the knowledge that each being had attained thus far in life.

Their knowledge I could retain in my subconscious, and were now my memories. Soon came the time when the king took a bride, a new queen for Erindal. The queen was a vicious and spiteful woman. She brought with her the trusted advisors she had attained from her home. The advisors of hers were a court of wizards, brooding, evil scum. They came upon me one eve, to ask of advice and their futures, they thought of me a gypsy, or fortuneteller. Nevertheless, I complied.

When my thoughts intruded upon theirs, I saw the twisted souls that they were, I saw the kingdom from which they came, I saw the suffering they had lain to their peoples! I screamed in anguish, their evil stabbed at my mind like spears. The thoughts of anguish flooded my mind, the tortures these men had wrought were beyond my understanding, my mind was flooded with the embodiment of deceit, hatred, and tyranny. Their thoughts threw me into a state of unconsciousness, one from which I did not awake for some time. When I did, I found something horrible had happened. The city was changing, no longer was it the land which I loved, the people were corrupt, the violence in the streets was occurring at regular intervals, over seemingly trivial things. The people were slipping towards darkness, towards the visions I had from the council of wizards. The peoples pain was pouring through my every orifice, polluting my mind."

Lorimar pauses again, seemingly spent by the efforts of speaking. His lips have begun to bleed from the stress he has placed on them in the last few moments. The man's head sags, as though he had fallen asleep. The intruder decides to wait, until the man is awake, to finish his tale.

Lorimar awakens several hours later, laborious breathing escapes his lips now. "The people of Erindal came to me for guidance, but their thoughts were all corrupted, they were all tainted. They had gotten to all of my peoples. Their perversion was invading my thoughts, I had to escape from Erindal. I ran from Erindal, blindly, as I cannot see, and soon found myself in another village. Actually, I collapsed in a farm, and was brought back to light by the farmer that resided there. He seemed like a good man, to have done those things for me, a pity, really."

He pauses, almost as if he were afraid to go on. The last words hang on the intruder's mind. Finally, Lorimar speaks again, after a long stretch of silence. "I decided to see into the mans mind, so that I might repay him for his services. As I did so, the mans yes, bulged from his head, he collapsed, screaming, a horror stricken look of terror on his brow. He died with that look on his face, died like that."

Tears begin to fall from Lorimar's stretched eyes, a sharp contrast to the parched white skin. "It seemed that my powers were now reversed, the man received all of the horror that was present in my mind. I was almost relieved. The abhorrence that had resided in my head was gone. At least, for a short time. The next morning, when I awoke, they had returned. It was the first night of peaceful sleep I had had for a long while, however short lived it might have been. I left the farm at the light of morning, I could almost feel the light of day. I walked on, until I reached a small village. I attempted to delve into the thoughts a lonely old woman who greeted me as I entered into the village. Her screams could be heard for miles.

Panic-stricken, I hid. I was not found. I infiltrated the city the following morning. I soon came to realize that I could no longer control my powers, my gift. Everyone who so much as spoke to me was overcome by the putrescence that was my mind. I had to leave once again. My thoughts were beginning to betray me, I almost felt as though I enjoyed the suffering that my thoughts caused. For this, I had to leave. I left that night, a peaceful night though it was. It was not long afterwards, maybe a month's time, when I found myself in this village. I bought this house, and have chained myself here, so that the number of people I come into contact with, the number of people I could infect with my madness, would be lessened considerably. The creatures that soon came to live here with me, seem to be immune to the effects of my madness, and they bring me food.

"Know that soon, you will be corrupted with my thoughts as well. Know that I warned you not to come closer, and now know why." Lorimar, exhausted, slumps his head to his chest, falling into a peaceful sleep, one which he has not had for some time. The intruder gets up to leave, a look of concern on his face, hoping that the man's story could not be true. He ran from the house, only to die that evening, horror-stricken in an inn in the center of town.

The creatures to which Lorimar referred, are a family of broken ones, consisting of six members. They are not immune to Lorimar's powers, but have learned to live with them over time. The broken ones do not have a choice to be picky, after all, when finding a home for themselves close enough to humans. They scavenge the homes of people at night, stealing food for themselves, and for Lorimar, the master of their house.

People sometimes hear of his infinite knowledge on all things, and seek him out. This knowledge he will give freely, for a price.