Life shall begin to believe that soon the man will hold no pressure to the earth, that his body will decay as it fades into the darkness. Clicking upon stone and dragging thin marks across the stone floor, he wanders into the hole into the ground and let's the moonlight falling from holes in the ceiling ignite the cavern. Water drips from the formations around him, his single ear listening to their faint noises.
Unlike his usual self, the mask is not about his head at this moment, swung off and added to bounce limply by a leather strap around his neck. For eyes that are typically dull though their colour is burning, something is different in them. They shine bright with emotion, running through the back of his head and slipping between parts that aren't supposed to be there. One thought stumbles over something that wasn't meant to be there and is gone it's loss is acknowledged. The Unknown is aware and knows full well of everything that moves about the glass walls that make his brain.
The thought that had been lost in his head was of the incident at the Steppe, how his trip had ended in what he never expected that. It unsettled him, moving his head and broken gears long forgotten so that the cobwebs that coat them were lost in a dark wind and thick shadow.
In his bright eyes, what happened there was the beginning of a black fog that he'd hadn't taken note of if it was taking pieces of the land apart in other places. The land was going to become something out of a Stephen King book and they would become the ones in the plot that would be affected by a monster.
One question remains with all of this: Who is going to be the murderer, the monster that is in the night that makes a small town in Maine fearful to let their children out during the night? Who was going to be the bad guy that in the end has something horrible happen to them without first moving on a rampage?
No answer could be scraped up in his head and it toiled like rough waters in a storm out at sea. 'It sound be forgotten even if it is moving southward. Hiding will do you well when it comes down to it.' No. 'Why no? Is that answer even worth wild to what I have just said?' Yes. 'You still haven't answered my first question.'
Shajake turns his head to the doorway of a cavern that the white man stands in. It stands there with it's short frame and gold eyes, digging into the pits of his mind and pushing him off the edge of the canyon just so that it could watch him fall again. He fells it get into a soft spot and in this pain, though it is faint and making him a masochist, makes the mad man throw his mask on and ignore the ghostly creature that the disease makes for him.
Quit. "No, not when your brain is so much fun to dig into it." He doesn't bring himself down to his knees where he could beg for mercy. Any begging was going to have him killed mentally, thrown to the pit and drowning in the waters of madness and insanity at the bottom.
He makes his way into the cavern, never noticing that The Unknown stands in front of him smiling and patiently waiting for his arrival as Scinfaxi fades in the moonlight.

OOC: Shajake is in the Sanctuary, wandering out of the main cavern into a small one off to the side. Nighttime with dim light brought into the room by medium sized holes in the ceiling. Cold enough to bring a slight shiver to you, but nothing like snow or ice.

@[Oxy]

You have first attack. Feel free to rattle him about if you want to get him angry or annoyed at him.

"talk talk talk"