Copyright © 2024 by Richard Kleaklan
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Book Cover by Ivan Palma Art
Illuminant Noland,
I hope this parcel finds you well. You no doubt are curious about why I would send you a direct correspondence like this, or even how I managed to do so. I hope once you examine the contents of what I’ve sent you, you’ll understand why I went to such lengths to get this to you, and only you.
I’ve come across what I think might be an explanation for Mr. Blank’s whereabouts. I must say I was crestfallen to be the one assigned to search the estate granted to him by his anxious father. After all, surely one would do well to avoid the abode of an individual with such notorious madness. I know his father donated to our coffers handsomely, and I would be lying if I said it wasn’t a motivating factor for me as I searched through the musty, dilapidated Blank Manor for any signs of Raymond’s location.
Throughout most of the estate, there is a familiar disrepair that much of the old city suffers from. I must say, though, and you know I am not one for superstition, there are places inside this manor that I would swear a daemon was evoked or a dark secret whispered. Still, knowing my duty to our agency and to one of our own (though his estrangement to us is well known), I plunged further into the decayed house in search of some clue.
Initially, I had little success combing through the moldy bedding, rotted crates, and dubious tombs littering the locale and was about to give up when I noticed a small lever pressed into the stone of the basement. Upon pulling this, I discovered a passageway leading deeper into lower levels of the city. I know I don’t need to remind you that I had good reason to avoid the ancient depths of our city, but gathering my courage, I set out down the passage. The darkness pressed in on me, and I quickly found myself clinging desperately to the illuminant amulet, hoping its protective light would ward off anything with malevolent intent.
Wet guttural cries and feverish whispers seemed to call out in the darkness. I nearly had enough when I found a room with a lit candle in the center of a round oak table. At the back of the room lay an opening in the walls where a door had been. The door was torn asunder, and a dried trail of blood led from the middle of the room through the space the door had been. The acrid smell of the Mazlonae sewers wafted in from that gap, and that alone hastened my examination. I did not want to be exposed to the sewers overly long. The fumes aren’t the only thing hazardous to one’s health in the sewers.
A large bookshelf made with blackened wood and a cushioned bedroll in the corner made me think this was some sort of study. I will not tell you the sorts of books that I found down there, just the thought of them still chills me…. Examining the bookshelf, I discovered a strange protrusion of woodcraft near its base. Pushing it revealed a concealed drawer whose only contents were a satchel.
This is the item I had our courier bring straight to you. You’ll notice the engraving is in Blank’s hand, but I’m not sure who the person identified is. “To Azgul.” The name seems to have the qualities of old Tolrathi, so I would remember it if I had heard it before. Stranger still, the contents of this satchel seem to have varying purposes. Much seems to be written to an individual other than Azgul. This begs the question, what drove his decision to send it to such a venerable individual? Surely this person must be a historical reference, but I will leave the decision of what to do with it and the rantings within up to you.
May the light guide our path,
Inquisitor Andotholus
Webs of Neglect
Fourth sun of Archea, year 16,441
My Dear Lena,
Having been in the old town of Mazlonae, I have made an interesting observation. The forces we try to keep out of our lives always seem to creep back into the nooks and crannies that we in our arrogant content neglect. This neglect festers, and soon enough the spiders of time and decay build their web in the crevices we leave untouched. The true nature of things begins to seep back in. And just as a spider’s web grows and spreads in an abandoned house, so too does the corruption grow in the forgotten places of our world.
Because of what happened, I have been set down a path of searching for the neglected places and seeing if I may what sorts of webs have grown there. I was at just such a place this day a week ago. I found out of its existence on one of my many excursions to Tilting Lilly Inn where I met a strange traveler. As the few that know me would attest, I enjoy strange scenery and environment. The Lilly seldom disappointed.
One of the reasons I loved The Lilly was because I was fascinated by its history. It was founded by Ekhert Norland (an old soldier that was involved with the Azendian conquests) and had been run by his descendants for the following centuries. Local legend says it was made from trees from the continent of Estha. Many say The Great Wood that is in the heart of the Tolrulian Kingdoms has a strange enchantment on it, and the trees there have wood that has protective magics imbued into its very nature. This is what the legends say, that is. I am not entirely convinced. However, I had to admit the customers frequenting the inn had a very different quality to them. It seemed to attract the estranged and forgotten elements of society.
The night I met the quintessential member of these elements I had one or two too many. Consequently, when the source of the lead sauntered by my curiosity got the better of me. I think his gait is what drew me to him. A weird jerking shuffle that I’ve not seen before. Unearthly is the only word I would use to describe it. He dropped some silver on the bar and then shuffled toward the back of the inn. He seemed to shy away from the well-lit areas in the inn and almost fell into his chair.
I attempted to get up and with some effort and applied leverage I managed it. I ironically thought I probably looked much like my soon to be acquaintance as I made my way across the room. Thudding down in the chair in front of him I attempted an awkward beginning of a conversation. Maybe if I were a bit more sober, I would have realized his eyes weren’t quite right, and his skin had a slimy-looking sheen to it. I was taken aback when he spoke to me in a low gurgling rasp.
“Please, I don’t want any trouble. I just need to lay my head and gather supplies to make my way away from this place.” As he said that I could see fear and repulsion play across his face. I was trying to think of what was wrong with his eyes when he grabbed my arm and looked away. “Please leave me in peace. Hakek knows I’ve gone through enough.” Every fiber of my being wanted me to get up and run out of the bar, and I can only blame my damned intoxication for pressing this pathetic soul for more information.
It took the rest of the night assuring him of privacy, avoiding staring at his face, and promising to run some of the more public errands he needed to do to set about on his travels, but I managed to get out the information I was looking for. The creature, whose name I found out was Herbert Thullen, half whimpered-half whispered part of his past and as he spoke my heart sank and my stomach became cold. He had apparently been a farmhand in a town to the south of Malzonae called Footh. This small farming village had been a fixture of the countryside for centuries, its infertile farms being bolstered enough by the wave of trade moving through it as folks traveled to Malzonae to offer a meager economy for the few that lived there.
Later in the afternoon while he was herding Lety, the family goat, back to her stall he saw a weird light above the forest to the southeast of his village. It transfixed his gaze for some time and by the time Lety’s bleating woke him out of his reverie, the moon was center in the sky. Lety’s bleats were anxiously scared at first but soon crescendoed into painful screams and he realized she had wandered close to the edge of the woods. Not wanting to get in trouble for his negligence and fearful of his beloved pet’s safety, he made haste toward the woods and followed Lety’s tragic bleats further in.
Soon he began to question the wisdom of venturing so far away from the warmth of his home, but that strange light in the sky was a source of great curiosity to him. He was about to turn around in defeat when he spotted something scurrying across the woodland grass. My storyteller paused for a moment, his composure breaking down. Quoting him, the description of the critter was “Unlike any I’ve ever seen. It don’t do good for something to have such body type movement which taint a part of a body.” It was hard to discern what exactly my companion meant by his description, but I knew enough not to press him further on the subject.
Moments after he saw this crawling monstrosity, he was pierced in his ankle by what he assumed was a woodland twig stepped on unluckily. This assumption soon proved false as his perceptions slowed and he found his limbs growing heavier. Soon he blacked out in the woodland, which I even then knew was a perilous state in the best of circumstances. His fading consciousness resigned himself to death from a predator’s mauling, but he was relieved when he began to awake in what was a semblance of a bed. He immediately noticed a strong musk permeating his quarters and could hear scuttling outside. The sounds made his neck crawl and he resolved not to exit this abode until daybreak.
As to the nature of the structure that he was laid in, he was unsure of what sort of craft made it. Its frame was mostly bone and some adhesive substance had tied it together. Not being a student of anatomy or medicine, he was unable to conclude the source of the bones that made the frame. I think he may have put more thought into why such a structure would exist if his mind weren’t still cloudy from whatever got him in the forest. Soon he had passed out again.
He was woken up again by a hairless man with a weird-looking expression and facial structure. The man bent over him and asked his name. He answered and soon the man was interrogating him about his appearance in the forest. When it became clear that he was simply looking for his goat, the interrogation ceased but the man still seemed very interested in him. He asked the man his name. “My name young man is Ergen Tul. I have been in this forest with my brothers for many years now, which is why I’m so curious why one such as yourself would be wandering on such a night as last.” Herbert’s memory vaguely recalled an individual by the name of Ergen, and the Tul was an ancient name for his family. He had never met this man in his life nor heard mention of him, however.
He soon became quite enamored with Ergen. The older man had an oddly charismatic demeanor and spoke of old things as if they were second hand. Ergen spoke with Herbert about all sorts of things. Philosophy, history, culture, and arcanum were all second nature to Ergen. Herbert was unsure if this individual was diabolic or some sort of druidic hermit. A druid would make sense because his ‘folks’ wouldn’t have mentioned him, since being a druid is shunned by every social pillar in Azendia. They spoke for much of the day and Ergen invited him to stay another night with him in his abode which he assured Herbert was made of elk and elderbear. As it became night Herbert was once again put on edge by the scuttling sounds around him. Ergen assuaged his worries, soon the festivities would begin.
Herbert was hesitant to stay another night, but he was convinced by Ergen as it was already late in the day. As the time passed their discussion became deeper and more interesting. Ergen evoked an older more ancient time, and he captivated Herbert as he discussed in more detail his ideas on philosophy and anatomy. Most of the concepts spoken of Herbert was wholly ignorant of, but the ideas sparked a feeling in him he could not escape. “Our bodies are much like the world in which we live. Their forms are not fixed. They can be molded and shaped into something more than they once were.”
Herbert repeated this phrase and stared off as if seeing something I could not. The phrase unnerved me in such a way that I began to perspire and searched for a way of continuing the story without dwelling on such a disturbing topic. Eventually I got Herbert back to his tale.
Soon the sun had set, and the scuttling began once more in earnest. Ergen stood up and invited Herbert outside. The misshapen young man beside me began to wince and I could see there was real pain in his eyes as he remembered. There were others outside, but they looked as alien as Ergen himself. They had appendages seemingly grafted to their bodies that aided them in their labor. Some brought in spoils of a hunt. These spoils were wrapped up in a weird wire of some sort and Herbert didn’t feel inclined to inspect them. They brought them into the camp and began to butcher them. Herbert turned away from the butchery as it disturbed him.
The thing that really struck Herbert was there was no fire anywhere to be seen. The only light in the camp was cast by an oddly shaped mound that was in the center of many structures like his current residence. Most of the folks in the camp didn’t seem to pay any attention to him save for one who had bones with glowing runes carved into them hanging as a necklace around its neck. The creature seemed to be female and upon seeing Herbert went around the mound out of view. After some time, she brought him a drink. Herbert was going to decline, but a look from Ergen made him obliged to try it.
The drink was dark and smelled of iron and oil. It was thick and curdled upon hitting his throat. He almost gagged several times, but he did drink the entire brew to please Ergen. The effects of the brew were felt almost immediately, and Herbert likened it to the effects of several horns of ale. He felt sedated with some minor euphoria and found himself feeling satiated in a way he had never achieved before. He smiled and knowing what to do, leapt to help his neighbors about their tasks. He even helped butcher one of the carcasses brought in from the hunt.
He soon found himself needing to sleep again and excused himself to go back to his bed. He dreamt of eating the flesh of living things and of himself rushing through the woods in search of prey. He awoke with a start and discovered Ergen looming over him caressing him. When interrogated, Ergen said he was medically examining one who was so closely related to him. Herbert began to question the truth of this when he discovered areas of his body had weird growths. The sensations he felt from them were as if they were part of his own body and he was greatly disturbed, but something about the way they felt brought a sickening pleasure to him.
He continued to stay in the camp for a few more nights. Continuing to drink the weird brew and continuing to have the weird dreams. These dreams began to become more detailed and became more and more vivid. By the end of the fourth night, his growths were long and had a prehensile quality to them. He put little thought into this and was beginning to form quite a camaraderie with Ergen. To his surprise, the other residents of the camp had a growing kinship with him. Betran was the shaman that brewed his potions for him and seemed to have a keen interest in his transformation. She was friendly but her and the others insisted he not go over to the far side of the mound where his brew was mixed.
He truly was beginning to become enthralled with his life in the camp. This all changed the fifth morning when he woke up but didn’t start. Ergen was looming as before, but he could make out through squinted eyes what Ergen was caressing him with. It was leathery and aged. However, it was beyond a doubt the shape of a human hand! He woke up and struck Ergen. After a small scuffle, he was eventually calmed by Ergen’s insistence this was no victim, but a cadaver made by an elderbear’s rampage. Caressing with the hand was apparently part of some warding druidic spell to protect Herbert from a similar fate. Though this made sense to him, he could not forget the feeling of that caressing. How as he was caressed his appendages felt… better… healthier… growing. The strange sutures at the base of his growths and the bones that seemed to be in them began to weigh more and more on his mind. That night he determined to slip past Betran during his chores. Betran had no reason to have her guard up, and He easily snuck around the base of the mound to get a glimpse of what lay behind.
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What he saw there he would not repeat, but seeing it sent him running blindly through the woods screaming. He isn’t sure how long he ran and screamed, and he is still curious as to how he managed to survive running through the woods with no defense like he did. After pressing him, all he would say is “That damned brew! I thought it was a herbal tea or some such… but GODS! Flesh ain’t s’posed to be twisted that way I don’t care what Ergen says!”
I had heard enough to resolve myself to go to Footh and investigate the tale of this unfortunate man. I bid him farewell and took many back alleys as I made my way back to my apartment. I had a fitful sleep and made hasty preparations for myself while holding true to my word of helping Herbert depart quickly from the city.
The thing that nagged at my mind was how complacent he was about the whole scenario. What individual in their right mind would allow such events to transpire without raising their hand against the creatures responsible? Either Herbert was being disingenuous or there was dark sorcery involved. This being the case I was very careful to bring the illuminant amulet. As I’m sure you remember, the amulets of my order bear special enchantments protecting their wearer from many dark magics. In addition to bringing the amulet I was sure to supply fifteen days of dried rations, a good length of rope, an Alum Lamp, and my favorite duelist’s rapier from my days at the University of Malzone.
After collecting the aforementioned tools and other wares necessary to make camp, I set out and rented a fine golden-maned Azendian horse. Finally, I set out upon Malzon’s Way and headed south toward Footh. The road was as always bristling with merchants and caravans. Fortunately, traffic was much less congested leaving the city than it was going into the metropolis. Living in the city for years, it’s easy to forget what a marvel Malzon’s Way is. Built hundreds of years ago on the orders of Malzon himself, the stones set all that time ago barely appeared worn by the footsteps of millions. Traveling on this road makes one feel vibrant and energetic and I have never felt winded walking its path. The second day, I was sad to leave the road as I took the turn to Footh. The stones were much more worn and eventually led into a dirt road. On this lonely beaten-down road I met no other traveler. Navigating the rough terrain had even my fine horse exhausted by the time we arrived in Footh.
Day was retreating when I arrived, and I hastily sought a place for lodging. There was only one option for a stranger in Footh, and I would lie if I said I was thrilled to see my new abode. The place was simply called The Inn, and I couldn’t help but notice the dinge and dirt as a focal point as I scanned the entryway. An old woman probably approaching her 65th eldenday sat on a wide barstool behind what was the saddest excuse for a bar I could think of. She seemed to have been nodding off when I entered and almost fell out of her stool when I introduced myself. The conversation was terse and unwelcoming, but when she saw the gold in my palm, she began to adopt a more cordial air. Soon enough I had my room but before I departed for it, I inquired about Herbert. Upon hearing his name, she tensed up. “You seen him? Th' Thullens had figured he died. Let me tell ya, I seen somethin' crawlin' outta them woods a cycle ago. I din’t want to believe it, but it shor’ looked like yung’ Thullen. Man twasn’t meant to move that way! I din’t have the heart to tell his folks, but if you mean to look after young Thullen you should be warned!”
The hair on my neck raised by this exchange, as it all but confirmed the story I was told earlier. In my meager room, I considered what my next move should be. It would be hard to locate the exact spot in the woods Herbert Thullen entered. I resolved to discuss my information with the Thullen’s and see what action they meant to take in response to it.
The next morning, I went straight to where the old innkeeper had told me the Thullen’s resided and was stunned at the poverty of the town. Every building I passed was single-story and most of the wood the houses were made of was rotting. The road had been paved with stone at one point, but now was churned into a soft mud by thousands of livestock and residents. The Thullen’s estate was slightly more kept than the rest of the town, but that was a low bar indeed. The door was slightly off its hinges and the dusty window was hard to see through. My knocks were met with wet-sounding steps, I half expected to be greeted by denizens as strange as young Thullen. I was relieved when instead I was greeted by an honest looking woman in her silver years. She had a proud chin and warm eyes. These eyes were still wet with tears, and I could see her trying to compose herself as she greeted me.
She escorted me into her house, if one would be so generous as call it that. The floor was not much better than the streets outside and I could smell muck in the air. She brought me in and offered me a drink, which I declined. I was then led and given a seat in what I expected was their dining room. Here I told them everything I knew about young Herbert and inquired about any information they might have as to what happened to them.
The Thullen’s were grateful for the news of their son. I could see a great weight had been lifted off them both, although the sadness of what befell their son and the prospect of never seeing him again was still present. Eld Thullen, Herbert’s father, did his best to apprise me of the most recent events of the town. Apparently, there had been more disappearances than just Herbert’s and travelers were being kept from going close to the woods, particularly at night. A few of the locals even discussed seeing weird lights coming from the woods and piercing the sky, but the ones that said so didn’t look long enough to get any more details than that.
I thanked them both for their information and let them know I was going to go and try to find out what exactly happened to him. Mr. Thullen pressed me to join me in my investigation, but I insisted he stay for now. “If there is something in that wood, I would rather rely on subtlety than brute force at the moment.” He finally relented when I promised him that if force was needed, I would bring him along for any forays that were made.
After I left the Thullen’s I went back to my room and waited for night to fall once more. Then, I headed to the spot in the woods that was closest to the Thullen’s pasture. The moon lit the night sky a pale blue, and the celestial bodies were shining a pleasant light on the tall grass as I made my way to the woods edge. I surveyed the area for some time and began to lose hope. Finally, I noticed a light bright enough to combat the natural light of the night. It was a weird greenish to purplish haze and marked a pattern quite visibly. The pattern of the light was reminiscent of something I couldn’t put my finger on, but it chilled me to my core.
I don’t know how long I stared at the light; time seemed to lose most meaning. Thankfully, I was startled out of my reverie by the light from my pendant. Its warding glow was enough to tell me something was amiss and there were dark enchantments at play. Getting my bearings again, I determined to go into the woods and investigate what kind of magic this was.
The woods were foreboding, and I could hear things stir in the dark just beyond the light of my alum lamp. I started to clutch my pendant and pray to Hakek. I kept telling myself these were just a trick of my mind. Surely Herbert’s story set my nerves on edge. This pretense fell away when my light fell upon something on the ground. It was moving toward me in a jerking way that made my spine crawl. I started backing up and drew my sword. I heard something behind me and jumped to the side, hitting a tree hard with my left arm. Wasting no time, I stabbed out at the creature that had been behind me, catching it squarely in its mid-section. The thing didn’t make a single sound but did stop moving toward me. I didn’t stop to consider it as I knew there was something else on the ground potentially coming toward me.
After seeing that I was once again alone, I examined the body of the creature I had slain. My heart sank as I examined it. It was the size of a large spider and had eight limbs. However, its skin was smooth and colored like a cadaver. Its limbs ended in what were clearly fingernails. Suture marks were along much of its body and to my horror, I discovered had to be mostly composed of a human hand! How!? How could such a thing move on its own. No eyes to see. No obvious sense of hearing or smell. Yet it knew instinctively to come toward me? And there was that area where a wrist would have been. This area extended in a thin appendage I could only describe as a stinger. This had to be what attacked Herbert! This creature likely delivered a toxin of some sort to sedate that young man.
My mind reeled. The panic had risen to my throat, and it was all I could do to not scream in that dark and hopeless wood. Something calmed me though. Maybe my training or maybe a desire to learn more, I cannot say. After I collected myself, I turned off my light and waited for my eyes to adjust to the wood. The light from the sky helped me greatly, and I could make my way further into the wood without the aid of artificial light. *CRACK* I heard a loud snap of a branch off in the distance and slowly moved toward it. It was hard to make out what was in that direction. Then suddenly a shape quickly moved by. I couldn’t make it out well, but it was humanoid. This gave me the encouragement I needed to continue in that direction, with my rapier drawn.
After searching for some time longer, I noticed a crimson hue off in the distance. I began to slowly and quietly make my way there. This is where I saw them. The capering, loping creatures that looked so much like Herbert. These creatures were more unnatural looking than him, though. Their gleeful movement as they set about completing their tasks had a manic quality, and the crimson light made them look like demons celebrating as they torment souls. I had seen nearly all I meant to, but then I noticed that mound Herbert had mentioned. The crimson light seemed to be coming from it. I knew I must observe it more closely.
I started going around the mound, just as Herbert must have done, to try and get an idea of what it was. I rounded the corner of it and looked exactly where Herbert must have looked. YYAAAARGGHGHHH!!! I wailed and grabbed my face. I lost all my sanity in that moment and pelted away from that hellish encampment. I could hear the footsteps of what must have been those creatures harrying me and trying to catch up to me. I ducked between trees and rolled down hills. I tripped over a branch and could hear them right behind me. I turned around and brought out my pendant and it showed a light I did not know it was capable of. I heard hissing from the direction of my pursuers and scrambled to my feet. I didn’t hear them after that, and made my way, bleeding and terrified back to Footh.
The towns folk rushed to get me as I screamed for them. They ushered me into the inn where they interrogated me about what I found. I was stuttering and incoherent. I apologized and retired for the night. I couldn’t sleep but clutched my sword and my amulet until my knuckles were white until daybreak. By then, I had come more to my senses and had made up my mind on what I must do. I made to leave Footh and was accosted by the Thullen’s. They demanded answers, but after seeing my eyes they relented. I promised them I would return with an answer and informed Eld Thullen that he should get ready to make the foray into the woods. I promised him he’d accompany me when I got back.
I did return, but not alone this time. As I arrived to Malzonae, I sent word to all the high ranked members of the Illuminants. My letters described the level of threat we faced and the kind of creatures that lurk in that damned forest. I went to the closest chapter and spoke with the commander there, my good friend Aldrin Matheas. Aldrin’s face contorted with disgust as I described what I had encountered. He agreed to accompany me and bring a contingent of our agents to handle the issue. After we got the blessing from the grand council, 10 Illuminants set out from Malzonae and were met in Footh by Eld Thullen.
We met at the inn and decided to wait until sunset. The mood in the inn was somber. Eld Thullen didn’t say much. He had a look of grim determination and sipped on a grimy horn of ail. Aldrin was better humored but decided to not partake in the inn’s services. “I wish you told me just how hardy of a place this was.” He said with bemusement. “It has been too long since you’ve left your cozy office. It does the body good to have a hardy drink here and there.” I said, smiling at his discomfort. He looked at me knowingly. “How would you know what’s good for the body? You look like shit!”
Soon it was time to depart, and we headed the same way me and poor Herbert had gone not too long ago. That light in the sky was visible once more. This time I decided not to look at it overly long. We fanned out and entered the wood silently and without lighting our lamps. Everyone was on the look out for the hand-things that had attacked me and Herbert. We all had thick leather boots up to our knees to avoid any unwanted stings. We crept through the woods for some time, but eventually we could see that horrid crimson glow.
Through the tree line were those figures loping around about their tasks. That horrifying mound was there as well. My back crawled when I saw it. I was worried they would have left in fear of having been discovered. I imagine that their purpose was too captivating for them to fear danger. Of course, I questioned which group was in danger presently, as I counted at least twenty of those figures. We spread around the camp, preparing for an ambush. With a signal, chaos ensued.
I rushed into the camp with my rapier drawn. Yells from my allies flooded the clearing. I picked one of the creatures and lunged toward it. It was taken by surprise, and I caught it through its left eye. Clear fluid burst from it like a popped grape and then a sickly crack as my rapier drove into its skull. It let out a half shriek before it crumpled to the ground. This close I could make out what it was. It was clearly once human, but its mouth had two jaws that hinged on separate sides. The sutures on its face were plain to see. It had a fleshy sack hanging from its lower back that began to pour out a black ichor as the creature died. I looked up from its corpse to see two more creatures coming at me. I rushed to meet them, but my boot stepped in the spilled ichor and got stuck.
Caught off balance, I stumbled toward my assailants. One had an arm tipped with what looked like an ulnar bone shaved to a point. This point was coming straight at me, and I put all my effort in bring my rapier to move it aside. My rapier found purchase and moved the ulnar spear out of the way of my heart, but it caught my ear and suddenly my vision was red with pain. The creature thrust its arm again, and this time, I couldn’t react in time.
Suddenly Aldin’s blade flashed before my eyes, severing the blade-arm that would have slain me. The Forlorn Edge was a beautiful blade, but in that moment, it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. A strong hand grabbed me and pulled me up. “I should have stayed in my cozy office. It gets old having to save your ass every outing!”
Around the clearing, chaos reigned. Our allies engaged in fierce combat with the remaining creatures, their shouts mixing with the monstrous shrieks of the abominations. The acrid smell of their ichor filled the air, making my stomach churn.
Suddenly I heard a crunch behind me. I spun around to see a weaponized spine about to be stabbed into my abdomen. I parried it with my rapier and stabbed at the creature wielding it. This one was faster than the others and quickly ducked under my blade. It moved its weapon at an upward ark. I jumped back and felt the air from the blade kiss my cheek. I landed well and stabbed at the air to try to make some room.
The creature jumped into my blade letting itself be gutted. It screamed with rage and stabbed me in my right shoulder. I yelled and dropped my blade. The thing fell into a heap in front of me. I surveyed the clearing. The battle was won! The creatures were being herded toward the center of the clearing next to the heap in the middle.
A bone chilling cry ripped the air. I looked and saw Aldin had pierced the chest of a creature matching the description of Ergen Tul. The cry sickened me. It was not a cry of pain, but a plea. Suddenly, the mound began to move. Dirt and leaves fell off it as it began to rise. This revealed the sutured flesh that was being lifted by dozens of grafted limbs. Human legs and arms grafted on one top of the other to make horrid spider like legs! Then I saw its face. If only I could forget! The eyes. The damnable eyes!!
The eyes emitted a light and when I looked at it, I was mesmerized. It wasn’t one eye but so many combined human corneas and pupils. Where they joined, the mesmerizing light shined. Even in my stupor, my mind unwound with realization. The pattern those lights made was the same pattern that was painted on the sky! A pattern that bore a disturbing resemblance to the eyes of Herbert. His wasn’t fully changed, but I could see what they would have been in this face or faces. This creature had at least 5 human heads fused into what it now had as a face.
It screeched with the voice of a dozen souls in torment and charged Aldin. He raised his sword to ward it off, but it swept a scythed limb across his front, cutting off his right arm and casting The Forlorn Edge to the ground. The creatures charged what remained of my allies and I finally snapped out of the light’s effects. I charged the enemy stabbed my rapier into the leading creature. Ducked under a swipe from another and slid next to Aldin. The Mound thing was moving toward two agents who were preoccupied with the camp’s denizens. I grabbed Aldin’s blade from his severed arm and rushed ahead.
Approaching the mound from the rear, I saw it had a round sack much like the others, but its proportions were gargantuan in comparison. There were patches of human hair throughout this sack, and I ran and grabbed one of them to start climbing up. Its reaction sent a leg at me and hit me behind my shoulders. All the breath was knocked out of me, but I held on to the hair. One of my compatriots stabbed at it, catching its attention again. I moved up its body in the commotion and finally cleared the fleshy sack. Desperately holding to this creature, I raised my friend’s blade and plunged it into where I thought the monster’s heart might be.
The Forlorn Edge burst with magical light and the creature’s torso erupted in blue flame. It raised its head and wailed a pitiful cry as if making its own plea. It threw me to the ground and turned toward me raising itself to strike. The flames that the blade had started were too much for it though, and its cry was cut short as they spread into its head. It fell to its side lifeless.
We were left by ourselves in the clearing now soaked with blood and ichor. Bone tired, we went through the wreckage of the battle. Eld had found Aldin and cast a healing magic on him, saving his life. They were both resting by the edge of the clearing, observing the others complete their grim task. A fire was started, and the bodies of the beasts were being fed into it. I saw our agents disposing of evidence and I objected but was told that they had specific orders to do so. Worried about the information I might lose, I hurriedly went into what I believed to be Ergen’s shack. I found many nightmarish things in that abode, but only one that bears mentioning. A single torn page that was written in Old Tolrathi. I hurried and slipped it into my cloak and didn’t mention finding it.
Me and four men made it out of the woods that night. Leaving six of our comrades in graves we marked as best we could. Soon, a party would be sent for their bodies to give them a proper burial. Eld clasped my hand and thanked me profusely for removing such a stain from his village. He had changed totally from when I had met him. I smiled at him weakly and told him I’d come back and visit. Aldin and I went back to Malzonae to make our report. Before departing, Aldin gave me his blade, since he wouldn’t be able to use it anymore. “I suppose office work really is my calling”, He said.
I have returned to my estate to write what I discovered in Footh. I don’t feel any relief nor comfort as I write this. Too much still weighs on my mind. Herbert is still out there, with his warped mind and disfigured body. Many more of those creatures escaped us in the chaos in the woods. And then there is this page. It describes rituals and theorems to aid in modifications of the body. It is all in praise of an entity it calls “The Flesh Shepard”. It also mentions an ancient name I have only heard of in myth.
“Sethnixith”
The entity that is the antagonist of all in the ancient texts. I thought it to be entirely fictitious, but its reference here would suggest otherwise. I have determined to explore more on this subject and will write more when I discover it.
For now, I will try to calm my mind. I struggle to sleep still, and my nerves are not quite what they were. I can’t get those eyes out of my mind. Something else haunts me more though. What I saw in that camp by myself in those woods. For when I looked behind that mound, I saw what poor Herbert was drinking!
Forever yours,
Raymond E. Blank