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"ktal" unisex hoodie
"ktal" unisex hoodie
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$71.00 CAD
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$71.00 CAD
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The caravan had been traveling for weeks, threading through the labyrinth of towering peaks and treacherous passes, following a map that was more myth than parchment. The Dreary Peaks, as legend named them, were known for swallowing souls whole, but within them lay a path to a city that was a whispered secret among the most daring travelers. It was I, Tomas, who led our band of merchants and misfits, drawn by the rumors of untouched relics and ancient wealth.
As we crested a ridge that clawed at the heavens, the city unveiled itself, a carcass of splendor nestled in the mountain's harsh clutches. The gates lay in ruin, the air hung with a silence that was suffocating. This was no place of refuge; it was a graveyard of a once-thriving bastion.
The city was a mausoleum. Buildings lay in shattered heaps, streets were strewn with the debris of life hastily abandoned. Our footsteps echoed through the emptiness as we wandered, drawn to the heart of the desolation where a temple stood defiant, though scarred by some unfathomable rage.
Inside, the ruinous breath of the city gave way to an oppressive stillness. Our torches cast light upon an enormous tapestry that draped the far wall. It depicted a grotesque deity: a towering four-armed beast, its body swathed in dark, matted fur. Two twisted horns adorned its head, each ending in a hauntingly human eye. Its hands, bearing six sharp fingers, were stained with the crimson of bygone sacrifices.
I could feel the eyes of the beast following us, a warning etched into its woven gaze. The tapestry was an epitaph of what had befallen the city. It was clear—the townspeople had not simply worshipped the monster; they had feared it.
As night approached, an ill wind swept through the shattered windows, carrying a whisper of movement. Shuffling through the rubble, I found more clues—a narrative of horror. Scratches marred the stones, glyphs that spoke of a ritual gone awry, a guardian that turned destroyer.
Our party huddled close, the unease palpable. The beast of the tapestry was no mere legend. It had been real, perhaps still was, its hunger leading it to devour those who had once fed it with their devotion.
That night, under the uncaring gaze of the stars, we slept uneasily. I dreamt of the creature, its horned eyes weeping as it tore through the flesh of its worshippers.
At dawn, we awoke to find the tapestry altered. Now, the eyes of the beast on the fabric were closed, as if it had returned to its slumber. And in the light of the new day, the city seemed to sigh with relief, as if the night had exorcised the last of its demons.
We left the city of the beast with more haste than we had entered, the tale of our night there etched in our minds, a haunting echo of the past that would ripple through our dreams for years to come. The city lay in silence once more, its story woven into the tapestry of legend, a grim reminder of the fine line between the sacred and the profane.
* * *
Who knew that the softest hoodie you'll ever own comes with such a cool design. You won't regret buying this classic streetwear piece of apparel with a convenient pouch pocket and warm hood for chilly evenings.
• 100% cotton face
• 65% ring-spun cotton, 35% polyester
• Front pouch pocket
• Self-fabric patch on the back
• Matching flat drawstrings
• 3-panel hood
• Blank product sourced from Pakistan
This product is made especially for you as soon as you place an order, which is why it takes us a bit longer to deliver it to you. Making products on demand instead of in bulk helps reduce overproduction, so thank you for making thoughtful purchasing decisions!
As we crested a ridge that clawed at the heavens, the city unveiled itself, a carcass of splendor nestled in the mountain's harsh clutches. The gates lay in ruin, the air hung with a silence that was suffocating. This was no place of refuge; it was a graveyard of a once-thriving bastion.
The city was a mausoleum. Buildings lay in shattered heaps, streets were strewn with the debris of life hastily abandoned. Our footsteps echoed through the emptiness as we wandered, drawn to the heart of the desolation where a temple stood defiant, though scarred by some unfathomable rage.
Inside, the ruinous breath of the city gave way to an oppressive stillness. Our torches cast light upon an enormous tapestry that draped the far wall. It depicted a grotesque deity: a towering four-armed beast, its body swathed in dark, matted fur. Two twisted horns adorned its head, each ending in a hauntingly human eye. Its hands, bearing six sharp fingers, were stained with the crimson of bygone sacrifices.
I could feel the eyes of the beast following us, a warning etched into its woven gaze. The tapestry was an epitaph of what had befallen the city. It was clear—the townspeople had not simply worshipped the monster; they had feared it.
As night approached, an ill wind swept through the shattered windows, carrying a whisper of movement. Shuffling through the rubble, I found more clues—a narrative of horror. Scratches marred the stones, glyphs that spoke of a ritual gone awry, a guardian that turned destroyer.
Our party huddled close, the unease palpable. The beast of the tapestry was no mere legend. It had been real, perhaps still was, its hunger leading it to devour those who had once fed it with their devotion.
That night, under the uncaring gaze of the stars, we slept uneasily. I dreamt of the creature, its horned eyes weeping as it tore through the flesh of its worshippers.
At dawn, we awoke to find the tapestry altered. Now, the eyes of the beast on the fabric were closed, as if it had returned to its slumber. And in the light of the new day, the city seemed to sigh with relief, as if the night had exorcised the last of its demons.
We left the city of the beast with more haste than we had entered, the tale of our night there etched in our minds, a haunting echo of the past that would ripple through our dreams for years to come. The city lay in silence once more, its story woven into the tapestry of legend, a grim reminder of the fine line between the sacred and the profane.
* * *
Who knew that the softest hoodie you'll ever own comes with such a cool design. You won't regret buying this classic streetwear piece of apparel with a convenient pouch pocket and warm hood for chilly evenings.
• 100% cotton face
• 65% ring-spun cotton, 35% polyester
• Front pouch pocket
• Self-fabric patch on the back
• Matching flat drawstrings
• 3-panel hood
• Blank product sourced from Pakistan
This product is made especially for you as soon as you place an order, which is why it takes us a bit longer to deliver it to you. Making products on demand instead of in bulk helps reduce overproduction, so thank you for making thoughtful purchasing decisions!
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