- TNP Nation
- Yamantau/The Black Cathedral
- Discord
- merchantofmercy
...and in the end of days, they shall descend upon us. They shall teach man new ways to shout, and revel, and kill as the ground is stricken from under them. They will come first in the form of small idols, from dim places, and man shall kneel before them in terrified praise. Then, the three celestial brothers shall begin to stir as blood is spilled in the name of Hykir and Atmoros. As the sun crests on the final day, they shall come; primal and serene. Madness shall wash over all who behold them, and Eras shall be torn asunder. Drowned Ysgeth, All-Seeing Hyogoth, and Wind-Scorched Urath shall take our world as their own, and we shall sleep forever more.
Judgement 8:17
Macklin Reef, 12 miles off the northeast coast of Ephyra, 1938.
"Keep looking, it has to be here!" Officer Irons shouted over the crash of the waves. He moved his lantern around, looking for any sign of the supposed cave entrance. An strange, high mound lie before him, it's smooth exterior a drastic change to its jagged basalt surroundings. Irons called out to his fellow officers and waved them over, barely audible over the seemingly intensifying howl of the wind. He turned back, and carefully made his way forward, trying to keep his footing. The cavern entrance was large enough for him to squeeze through, and possibly Officer Norskvist and Doctor West, but the doctors assistant would need to stay with the boat.
Irons ordered the assistant to take the boat a safe distance out, and wait for their signal to approach again. Three bright flashes of the lantern. The seeming lobotomite with a scar running ear to ear lumbered away and did as told as Irons and his companions squeezed into the crevice.
The sloped shaft was narrow and slippery, and an immediate smell of decay overtook the trio of nervous investigators. The reports of strange lights and odd creatures, and even more mysterious disappearances, on this ragged little island had finally spurred the local authorities to action. Doctor West, a foreign intellectual with fair skin and a constant nervous look in his pale blue eyes, had demanded to come along, citing that the reef had some manner of historical significance as an ancient site of sacrifice.
As they slowly edged their way along, the shaft seemed to open up and level out considerably, with the howl of wind and crashing of waves now almost inaudible; replaced instead by the steady dripping of water on the stone floor. Irons raised his lantern and peered into the darkness before them as he inched his way down. The shaft seemed to go for quite some time, with the jagged rock giving way to smooth walls that bore odd marks every so often. West would stop from time to time, much to the distaste of Irons, to make a quick sketch of the markings, muttering in his strange foreign language as he did so. Further down, even the dripping stopped, and the trio became acutely aware of the grave stillness that was only disturbed by their footsteps, or the clatter of rocks as they rolled down the slope.
"Christ, when does this thing end?" Norskvist griped, bracing himself against the wall, his gravelly voice echoing.
"Just up ahead." Irons assured him, pointing to an area that looked like it made a sharp change in angle that was illuminated by his lantern. Sure enough, the floor leveled out, and the tunnel opened up to a long corridor. The walls and floor bore an almost mirror finish, and the stone bore no marks of any mason. Immaculately hewn stone stretched on before them into the pitch black, with what could be mistaken for columns every few feet. But they were! Columns that bore intricate frescoes from top to bottom, depicting some manner of event that the overlying scratches obscured to the point of illegibility. West studied them in the dim light of his lantern as Irons and Norskvist ventured ever so slightly ahead to investigate another of the columns.
"Hey Norski, c'mere. This one…here…looks like the three brothers don't it?" Irons asked.
Norskvist examined the closely carved hieroglyphs and confirmed with his partner that they did indeed look like the fabled apocalyptic trio of Epyhran myth.
"Hey Doc, you're into this…how old you think this place is?" Norskvist asked West as he leaned back around the pillar to look at the disheveled little man pouring over the markings.
The sudden question startled West from his fervor of discovery, and it took the academic a moment to gather his thoughts as he gestured to the walls. "It is many, many millenia old, older than your people for sure, w-which is the part that is confounding, gentlemen. Your people have only been on these lands for eleven hundred years, but these markings and hieroglyphics, they tell stories of your homeland from thousands of years prior to the intervention of Clan Eiderwig." West explained, regrouping with the officers.
A sudden skittering somewhere further down the expansive hall turned their attention from the history lesson. Irons and Norskvist both drew their revolvers and proceeded carefully down the hall, with West timidly in tow. A series of shrill clicks and whistles began to eminate from the abyssal darkness, with the skittering sounding so close it may as well have been beside them. Norskvist reached out to stop Irons and pointed to the ceiling, where just inside of the dull halo of the lantern, the flickering flame reflected from a pair of large grey eyes. The trio froze in terror at the sight of the beast watching them. It's face resembled that of an angler fish, with the small, frail frame of a lesser primate, and it's skin the same brutal black in colour and texture as the jagged basalt of the surface. The creature studied them for but a moment before retreating back into the darkness. They could hear it stop shortly outside of the light, and drop to the floor with a soft, wet slap. Irons and Norskvist leveled their weapons, and waited. Eventually, a boney hand emerged from the darkness, outstretched and palm up. The horrific creature hopped towards them, making slow movements as it re-entered the light. On its feet, it was the size of a grown man, but its emaciated frame and terrible anglerfish-like face made it far more alien than man.
"Back!" Irons commanded the creature, who jumped back at the sudden volume of Irons voice, before settling into a more relaxed stance. Another burst of shrill noises from deep in the darkness drew the attention of the creature, who took one last glance at the horrified men before running away into the darkness.
"We have to follow it!" West pleaded, rushing ahead of Irons and Norskvist. The two Ephyrans watched the doctor sprint into the darkness before Irons ran after him with a sigh of resignation. Norskvist on the other hand, ran screaming back the way they had come.
Irons and West ran until they could feel their terrified hearts beating in their teeth. The strange smell had returned, this time unbearable, causing West to begin to vomit, stumble, and fall. Irons finally managed to catch up as the doctor heaved and grunted on all fours. Up ahead, Irons could see a light, but not one cast from flame or electric light, but as if the moons were directly above.
"C'mon, doc." Irons grunted, helping West to his feet. The pair edged towards the now apparent doorway through which Irons had seem the light, and cautiously peered in. West's mouth simply opened and closed, unable to formulate words at the sight he beheld.
A magnificent, ornate chamber sprawled out before them, dimly lit by the haunting eyes of the twin moons. The semi-circular chamber seemed to rise hundreds of feet up, so high that they couldn't distinguish where the ceiling ended and the night sky began.
"Is that our boat…" Irons asked, though the question was rhetorical. Smashed against the floor in the center of the chamber was indeed the boat they had brought with them, but no sign of West's lobotomite assistant. West began to take note of the honeycomb type structures that seemed to perforate the walls in spots, and especially of the multitude of eyes watching them.
"There's more of them…" West whispered, standing back to back with Irons, who shakily handed West his blackjack club.
"They will not harm you." a deep voice told them, resonating from the side of the room where a large door like structure stood.
The lobotomite assistant stepped forward, but he looked…different. He now sported a beard, braided and tied like an ancient Rafhazi Pharoah, and the scar that ran from ear to ear now a stripe of gold that ran across his nose. Irons also realized that the assistant now towered over him, and the robes of flowing black silk did nothing to hide the powerful frame beneath. West looked the assistant up and down, before nearly fainting as one singular word escaped his lips.
"Mehotep."
"You are correct, Doctor West. I am Mehotep. You both know my name. You both know my works." Mehotep cooed as he began to circle them, Irons pushing West behind him as he kept turning to meet the gaze of the god of chaos.
"Why?" Irons finally managed to choke out.
Mehotep stepped towards Irons and bent over so that their faces were only inches apart.
"So that you may witness…." Mehotep laughed, pointing behind himself at the doors.
"Witness what?" Irons questioned, trying to push down the dread that he felt in the presence of this old god.
Mehotep threw the hem of his robe over the two terrified men, and when the fabric fell from their eyes, they clung to Mehotep for safety, as it appeared they were now looking down on Macklin Reef from a great height.
Mehotep began to recite some manner of incantation that neither Irons or West would be able to recall without screaming when questioned on the matter later, but it was of a language that neither knew, nor would ever care to know.
"Behold." Mehotep commanded, motioning towards the now violently churning sea.
"Awaken, drown-ed prince." West muttered.
Mehotep simply smiled at West's remark as a pair of savage yellow eyes stared back at them from the water, the entirety of the reef disappearing against the backdrop of the colossal rectangular pupils.
The next morning when rescue arrived, Irons and West were found clinging to each other, ranting and raving about long forgotten gods and grand temples under the rock, but neither could be confirmed. Authorities found no evidence of a cave, no evidence of life, nothing. After many days of questioning and psychological review, both men were committed to the Whittaker Asylum for the Insane, where a smiling orderly with a scar that runs ear to ear watches dutifully over them.
To The Hellfire by Lorna Shore
Judgement 8:17
Macklin Reef, 12 miles off the northeast coast of Ephyra, 1938.
"Keep looking, it has to be here!" Officer Irons shouted over the crash of the waves. He moved his lantern around, looking for any sign of the supposed cave entrance. An strange, high mound lie before him, it's smooth exterior a drastic change to its jagged basalt surroundings. Irons called out to his fellow officers and waved them over, barely audible over the seemingly intensifying howl of the wind. He turned back, and carefully made his way forward, trying to keep his footing. The cavern entrance was large enough for him to squeeze through, and possibly Officer Norskvist and Doctor West, but the doctors assistant would need to stay with the boat.
Irons ordered the assistant to take the boat a safe distance out, and wait for their signal to approach again. Three bright flashes of the lantern. The seeming lobotomite with a scar running ear to ear lumbered away and did as told as Irons and his companions squeezed into the crevice.
The sloped shaft was narrow and slippery, and an immediate smell of decay overtook the trio of nervous investigators. The reports of strange lights and odd creatures, and even more mysterious disappearances, on this ragged little island had finally spurred the local authorities to action. Doctor West, a foreign intellectual with fair skin and a constant nervous look in his pale blue eyes, had demanded to come along, citing that the reef had some manner of historical significance as an ancient site of sacrifice.
As they slowly edged their way along, the shaft seemed to open up and level out considerably, with the howl of wind and crashing of waves now almost inaudible; replaced instead by the steady dripping of water on the stone floor. Irons raised his lantern and peered into the darkness before them as he inched his way down. The shaft seemed to go for quite some time, with the jagged rock giving way to smooth walls that bore odd marks every so often. West would stop from time to time, much to the distaste of Irons, to make a quick sketch of the markings, muttering in his strange foreign language as he did so. Further down, even the dripping stopped, and the trio became acutely aware of the grave stillness that was only disturbed by their footsteps, or the clatter of rocks as they rolled down the slope.
"Christ, when does this thing end?" Norskvist griped, bracing himself against the wall, his gravelly voice echoing.
"Just up ahead." Irons assured him, pointing to an area that looked like it made a sharp change in angle that was illuminated by his lantern. Sure enough, the floor leveled out, and the tunnel opened up to a long corridor. The walls and floor bore an almost mirror finish, and the stone bore no marks of any mason. Immaculately hewn stone stretched on before them into the pitch black, with what could be mistaken for columns every few feet. But they were! Columns that bore intricate frescoes from top to bottom, depicting some manner of event that the overlying scratches obscured to the point of illegibility. West studied them in the dim light of his lantern as Irons and Norskvist ventured ever so slightly ahead to investigate another of the columns.
"Hey Norski, c'mere. This one…here…looks like the three brothers don't it?" Irons asked.
Norskvist examined the closely carved hieroglyphs and confirmed with his partner that they did indeed look like the fabled apocalyptic trio of Epyhran myth.
"Hey Doc, you're into this…how old you think this place is?" Norskvist asked West as he leaned back around the pillar to look at the disheveled little man pouring over the markings.
The sudden question startled West from his fervor of discovery, and it took the academic a moment to gather his thoughts as he gestured to the walls. "It is many, many millenia old, older than your people for sure, w-which is the part that is confounding, gentlemen. Your people have only been on these lands for eleven hundred years, but these markings and hieroglyphics, they tell stories of your homeland from thousands of years prior to the intervention of Clan Eiderwig." West explained, regrouping with the officers.
A sudden skittering somewhere further down the expansive hall turned their attention from the history lesson. Irons and Norskvist both drew their revolvers and proceeded carefully down the hall, with West timidly in tow. A series of shrill clicks and whistles began to eminate from the abyssal darkness, with the skittering sounding so close it may as well have been beside them. Norskvist reached out to stop Irons and pointed to the ceiling, where just inside of the dull halo of the lantern, the flickering flame reflected from a pair of large grey eyes. The trio froze in terror at the sight of the beast watching them. It's face resembled that of an angler fish, with the small, frail frame of a lesser primate, and it's skin the same brutal black in colour and texture as the jagged basalt of the surface. The creature studied them for but a moment before retreating back into the darkness. They could hear it stop shortly outside of the light, and drop to the floor with a soft, wet slap. Irons and Norskvist leveled their weapons, and waited. Eventually, a boney hand emerged from the darkness, outstretched and palm up. The horrific creature hopped towards them, making slow movements as it re-entered the light. On its feet, it was the size of a grown man, but its emaciated frame and terrible anglerfish-like face made it far more alien than man.
"Back!" Irons commanded the creature, who jumped back at the sudden volume of Irons voice, before settling into a more relaxed stance. Another burst of shrill noises from deep in the darkness drew the attention of the creature, who took one last glance at the horrified men before running away into the darkness.
"We have to follow it!" West pleaded, rushing ahead of Irons and Norskvist. The two Ephyrans watched the doctor sprint into the darkness before Irons ran after him with a sigh of resignation. Norskvist on the other hand, ran screaming back the way they had come.
Irons and West ran until they could feel their terrified hearts beating in their teeth. The strange smell had returned, this time unbearable, causing West to begin to vomit, stumble, and fall. Irons finally managed to catch up as the doctor heaved and grunted on all fours. Up ahead, Irons could see a light, but not one cast from flame or electric light, but as if the moons were directly above.
"C'mon, doc." Irons grunted, helping West to his feet. The pair edged towards the now apparent doorway through which Irons had seem the light, and cautiously peered in. West's mouth simply opened and closed, unable to formulate words at the sight he beheld.
A magnificent, ornate chamber sprawled out before them, dimly lit by the haunting eyes of the twin moons. The semi-circular chamber seemed to rise hundreds of feet up, so high that they couldn't distinguish where the ceiling ended and the night sky began.
"Is that our boat…" Irons asked, though the question was rhetorical. Smashed against the floor in the center of the chamber was indeed the boat they had brought with them, but no sign of West's lobotomite assistant. West began to take note of the honeycomb type structures that seemed to perforate the walls in spots, and especially of the multitude of eyes watching them.
"There's more of them…" West whispered, standing back to back with Irons, who shakily handed West his blackjack club.
"They will not harm you." a deep voice told them, resonating from the side of the room where a large door like structure stood.
The lobotomite assistant stepped forward, but he looked…different. He now sported a beard, braided and tied like an ancient Rafhazi Pharoah, and the scar that ran from ear to ear now a stripe of gold that ran across his nose. Irons also realized that the assistant now towered over him, and the robes of flowing black silk did nothing to hide the powerful frame beneath. West looked the assistant up and down, before nearly fainting as one singular word escaped his lips.
"Mehotep."
"You are correct, Doctor West. I am Mehotep. You both know my name. You both know my works." Mehotep cooed as he began to circle them, Irons pushing West behind him as he kept turning to meet the gaze of the god of chaos.
"Why?" Irons finally managed to choke out.
Mehotep stepped towards Irons and bent over so that their faces were only inches apart.
"So that you may witness…." Mehotep laughed, pointing behind himself at the doors.
"Witness what?" Irons questioned, trying to push down the dread that he felt in the presence of this old god.
Mehotep threw the hem of his robe over the two terrified men, and when the fabric fell from their eyes, they clung to Mehotep for safety, as it appeared they were now looking down on Macklin Reef from a great height.
Mehotep began to recite some manner of incantation that neither Irons or West would be able to recall without screaming when questioned on the matter later, but it was of a language that neither knew, nor would ever care to know.
"Behold." Mehotep commanded, motioning towards the now violently churning sea.
"Awaken, drown-ed prince." West muttered.
Mehotep simply smiled at West's remark as a pair of savage yellow eyes stared back at them from the water, the entirety of the reef disappearing against the backdrop of the colossal rectangular pupils.
The next morning when rescue arrived, Irons and West were found clinging to each other, ranting and raving about long forgotten gods and grand temples under the rock, but neither could be confirmed. Authorities found no evidence of a cave, no evidence of life, nothing. After many days of questioning and psychological review, both men were committed to the Whittaker Asylum for the Insane, where a smiling orderly with a scar that runs ear to ear watches dutifully over them.
To The Hellfire by Lorna Shore
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