[The voice is a strange combination of something vaguely familiar and yet not quite known, haunting and filling each person with a discomfort without explanation.]

A challenge, a game. Consider it what you will. A hero's quest, perhaps, but who are the heroes? Only Time will tell, but he tells nothing at all. I do not believe in time. So fickle in consistency, so charming in identity. A facade. A charade. Rather odd, you might say. Let us begin, all time to lose. Round one, my little momeraths:

Made of stone, never brick,
Always crying without eyes;
Hear how slowly time does tick,
When watching for their lies.

Eyes of black, hair of brown,
Sometimes gold, one never knows;
Perhaps the devil wears the same crown,
This gem held one of you in her throes.


[Upon later recalling this post, characters will not be certain if they heard the voice or if they simple remember it being in the back of their mind, as if a vague memory of a dream.]

[ooc: A reminder that all Private/etc filters have been disabled from now until the 24th; everything is public. This also begins the Main Plot (reference here).]