"The time is fast approaching."
"Fast approaching is the time."
"Time is fast approaching, it is."
Three men sat around a table parroting the others sentiment. Yes, they were most certainly men. While their forms were mishappen beyond the proportions of any man you have seen, most certainly were they men.
"He comes not for us, though."
"For us he come not."
"Not us does he come."
An outsider would most likely be perplexed by the nature of their conversation. One might even suggest that at least two of the three had long since lost the sparks of thought.
"Many days, many weeks, yes, many years have we awaited for his arrival."
"Days, weeks, years!"
"Awaited his arrival, yes."
One would be perfectly correct in suggesting so. Only the youngest of the three still retained his faculties. Beneath the other two men sat rancid puddles of piss and shit.
"Here he is!"
"He is here!"
A great chill clung to the men. The fire that had once provided light and warmth to the room suddenly extinguished shrouding the room in absolute darkness. However, from one of the far windows a faint flicker of light could be seen. Behind its thick glass panes hovered a figure draped in great black robes. A great staff slapped against the windows twice, beckoning the men to open it.
As the youngest of the Bouldemore Triplets, you:
[ ] "Huuhh? Who is that? Marty? Is that you, Marty?"
[ ] Call for your maid to rekindle the fire. It's freezing in here!
[ ] "It's death!" Have a heart attack from shock.
[ ] Try to reach the window to open it.
Not this shit again.