The Tales, That of Eldritch

Xxulechqel and Ethec'Murdraad

The world is a stain. A pain, a blotch of material that must be removed, but like a pest it remains. Even Ethec'Murdraad , high priest of Sageagate, pondered upon this philosophy. Murdraad spent his free hours in seclusion. Barricaded in a room, lit with few candles, the priest would study on books known as the Tomes of Eldritch. The tomes were written by an author by the name of Xxulechqel, an unknown person. The tomes consisted of the reality below the frail surface of mortality.

The more that Ethec'Murdraad read, the more whispers filled his head. The cathedral witnessed less and less of him, yet he could be heard talking to himself from behind the locked door.

"They do not know, no, no. They do not see what I do. We were born to suffer until we topple over. We were all born to die. The shaded haven below the crescent moon keeps his physical manifestation at bay. I know, I know, I told you, he does not believe. Fear is of essence, but I have none left..."

Other times, especially through the night, other clerics could be stirred by maniacal laughter, the hysteria of a psycho priest. The pestering continued for days, disturbing ceremonies and weddings, all church endeavors were disrupted.

Eventually, Noble Priest Amedes had enough. Preparing to have a strong conversation with high priest Ethec'Murdraad, the Noble Priest searched for the spare keys to the room. Searching in every key ring rack, every cabinet, none of the keys were found. Furious, Amedes decided to knock the door inward. Uplifting the benevolent mace, Athyrlesh of Angels' Kin, he swung it. It collided with the door, and the door did not budge. Even then, the comments from beyond did not subside.

After two, maybe three swings, the door unlatched. Still though it was not but cracked open. Amedes pushed it further wide.

He began to stumble back in horror, falling onto the floor. Behind the door was a tragedy, for the high priest Ethec'Murdraad levitated within massive shadows in the center of the room. His eyes had been gouged out, his body rotting away with keys stuck all throughout his corpse, and a jaw open so vast as to see two pearly eyes staring from within. Below him lie an open book, it showed depictions of horrid drawings, things not of the world. The page read, "And so the whispers fade away, as soon as the fall under a winter moon's light."

A quiet whisper caressed Amedes' ears, "These are the blackened hands of a cold, candid corpse..." As the whisper faded, hands of pure night began to reach from the dead's throat, and an amalgamation of utter darkness stepped free. Xxulechqel had awoken...