The rogue's eyes gleamed with a mix of wicked delight and perverse curiosity as he ventured deeper into the labyrinthine corridors. The faint echoes of distant cries and moans reached his ears, igniting a twisted sense of satisfaction within him. Lasso reveled in the darkness, finding pleasure in the discomfort it inflicted upon others. As he moved forward, Lasso noticed a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision. An ethereal figure darted between the shadows, its presence barely perceptible. Lasso acknowledged the phantom's existence, the malevolence in his eyes betraying his intentions.
His steps quickened, the rhythmic click of his heels blending with the haunting symphony of whispers. The spirits, sensing his presence, materialized in front of him, their spectral forms a haunting display of torment and anguish. Some floated aimlessly, lost in their own despair, while others bore twisted grins, their intentions clear. Unfazed by their spectral assault, Lasso's lithe form dodged and weaved with grace and sensuality, his movements almost dance-like. A wicked smile played upon his lips, his depravity shining through in every calculated step.
287 wc