SHF Scribe '10
Post by Toadkiller Dog on Nov 28, 2010 11:59:28 GMT
With regret I bring the living world news of these travels from the other side. With this regret I bathe in the shallow deep depression of knowing that on one side of the coin I've failed all of mankind. Though there are two sides to every coin, and with darkness there will always come light, and so I must tell you this tale now. My adventures have not been for the feint of heart, or the deeply spiritual. In fact one could say they've been downright unpleasant if not utterly abhorrent. This discretion I will leave to you, as the reader of my final testament.
Prepare Yourself.
~ Jaiden Warqueler
The onset of my journey would come through much paranoia and suspicion, and then through a series of painstaking researching procedures. The world knows many monsters, such as those who would sooner spill your innards than shake your hand. The modern definition of the term "monster" revolves around something inhumane in action and character, a being who induces horror upon those around it through acts of cruelty or sheer wickedness. So as such, there have been many amongst our short days in this realm that would fit these descriptors. Butchers that maimed and molested living, breathing women for the raw thrill of the act itself, or the excitement of her helpless screams. Warmongers who feared nothing and would bring about an immense amount of pain and torture to any and all who got in their paths.
However no matter how vilely grotesque and horrific these beings were or are, they all share a handful of similar traits and more importantly, one common weakness. All of these creatures of sadism fall under a fairly simple category, and with it they all share the ups and downs of the class. Though sometimes their thought process and beliefs would prove contrary, they all, at the very core of their creation are human. And with humanity comes the weakness of mortality. Any and all of these "monsters", as some would call them, have or eventually will have fallen to the continuously ticking clock that is essentially mortality. Be it natural means, or a well placed dagger to their blackened hearts, one and the same through some means or another, they will eventually have all fallen to this simple fact and prospect.
But dig deeper into these matters and you may find the answers more challenging to grasp firmly. What is it that can cause a mortal man, born and raised by the hand of another to take on the immoral thoughts of he who could mutilate for pleasure? Perhaps it is only a matter of the eternal screw that is a man's mind coming unhinged and loose. Though, what if more were to lie underneath what the average doctor can only label as madness? Perchance, what if something much, much deeper lies behind these horrid acts, lying somewhere out of reach of the realms of time and space as we know them? This thought process brought me to what would eventually be my own undoing. For as it had been, current events circled around a raving madman who stalked the city streets at night eagerly awaiting the opportunity to find and mangle an unsuspecting young woman.
Surely these crimes had occurred many times previous to my knowledge, but it was the aftermath of the incidents that set my mind reeling. I personally became witness to one such scene...one I'd rather soon forget. Though in hindsight, I suppose the sight of seeing what could only be described by a man of intelligence as a bloody pulp, with nigh but bare, molested sex to discern gender of the victim may be a bit more tolerable than what I would later witness in those fiery halls.
Most of my reading and research brought a similar resulting equation. Insanity, the bending of one's mind to the point of breaking. Though my suspicion lingered strongly, and so my scouring of knowledge continued. Again, looking back I now sometimes wish to myself that my curiosity would have given up it's ghost then and there, like the sane, rational man may have. Instead however I delved further until I stumbled on an old dusty tome that reeked of mildew and burnt cedar. It was a rather large, queer volume that the shopkeeper at the small, rundown second-hand book store was all too glad to unload for mere pennies to me. He spoke little, only fidgeted when I'd thrust the moldy text his way, with an inquiry of it's cost and possible origins. He mumbled something inaudible with a well distinguished trace of fear in his rambling. I could only stand and admire my newly found treasure, losing myself for a moment before finally making my leave from the rundown place, throwing a single look back over my shoulder to see the shop keepers beady eyes follow me out the door. I could almost hear his sigh of relief over the shrill din of the little bronze bell overhead.
I smiled as I carried my prize home, not fully knowing what to expect, but wrapped in an anxiety not so unlike a small child in the eve of holidays. For I'd found what I wholly believed to be one of the surviving original records of undeath, and what lay between it and our world. I'd found in that second-hand shop what I thought to be a fully intact volume of the dreaded Necronomicon.
Before even opening the aging text I could feel the swell of my questions ready to be burst open into answers. My eyes danced over the incongruous imagery as I slowly began to flip the first few pages of the tome. Abominable deformations of humanoid shape began to tug at the corners of my mind as I poured fourth, this was the work of true madness. If I were to believe what little I'd already taken in from this blasphemous text, then the answers to my questions lay much further than the simple act of one's own mental undoing. There was evil sewn somewhere between our realm and that of the dead that promised such activity, and then some more. It was then abundantly clear to me that the very rooting of this problem of monstrous behavior lay deep in the mouth of oblivion itself, what at the time I could only depict as hell. And thus seeking truth brought more promises of a glimpse into pandemonium. I was not prepared.
-To be continued.
Prepare Yourself.
~ Jaiden Warqueler
The onset of my journey would come through much paranoia and suspicion, and then through a series of painstaking researching procedures. The world knows many monsters, such as those who would sooner spill your innards than shake your hand. The modern definition of the term "monster" revolves around something inhumane in action and character, a being who induces horror upon those around it through acts of cruelty or sheer wickedness. So as such, there have been many amongst our short days in this realm that would fit these descriptors. Butchers that maimed and molested living, breathing women for the raw thrill of the act itself, or the excitement of her helpless screams. Warmongers who feared nothing and would bring about an immense amount of pain and torture to any and all who got in their paths.
However no matter how vilely grotesque and horrific these beings were or are, they all share a handful of similar traits and more importantly, one common weakness. All of these creatures of sadism fall under a fairly simple category, and with it they all share the ups and downs of the class. Though sometimes their thought process and beliefs would prove contrary, they all, at the very core of their creation are human. And with humanity comes the weakness of mortality. Any and all of these "monsters", as some would call them, have or eventually will have fallen to the continuously ticking clock that is essentially mortality. Be it natural means, or a well placed dagger to their blackened hearts, one and the same through some means or another, they will eventually have all fallen to this simple fact and prospect.
But dig deeper into these matters and you may find the answers more challenging to grasp firmly. What is it that can cause a mortal man, born and raised by the hand of another to take on the immoral thoughts of he who could mutilate for pleasure? Perhaps it is only a matter of the eternal screw that is a man's mind coming unhinged and loose. Though, what if more were to lie underneath what the average doctor can only label as madness? Perchance, what if something much, much deeper lies behind these horrid acts, lying somewhere out of reach of the realms of time and space as we know them? This thought process brought me to what would eventually be my own undoing. For as it had been, current events circled around a raving madman who stalked the city streets at night eagerly awaiting the opportunity to find and mangle an unsuspecting young woman.
Surely these crimes had occurred many times previous to my knowledge, but it was the aftermath of the incidents that set my mind reeling. I personally became witness to one such scene...one I'd rather soon forget. Though in hindsight, I suppose the sight of seeing what could only be described by a man of intelligence as a bloody pulp, with nigh but bare, molested sex to discern gender of the victim may be a bit more tolerable than what I would later witness in those fiery halls.
Most of my reading and research brought a similar resulting equation. Insanity, the bending of one's mind to the point of breaking. Though my suspicion lingered strongly, and so my scouring of knowledge continued. Again, looking back I now sometimes wish to myself that my curiosity would have given up it's ghost then and there, like the sane, rational man may have. Instead however I delved further until I stumbled on an old dusty tome that reeked of mildew and burnt cedar. It was a rather large, queer volume that the shopkeeper at the small, rundown second-hand book store was all too glad to unload for mere pennies to me. He spoke little, only fidgeted when I'd thrust the moldy text his way, with an inquiry of it's cost and possible origins. He mumbled something inaudible with a well distinguished trace of fear in his rambling. I could only stand and admire my newly found treasure, losing myself for a moment before finally making my leave from the rundown place, throwing a single look back over my shoulder to see the shop keepers beady eyes follow me out the door. I could almost hear his sigh of relief over the shrill din of the little bronze bell overhead.
I smiled as I carried my prize home, not fully knowing what to expect, but wrapped in an anxiety not so unlike a small child in the eve of holidays. For I'd found what I wholly believed to be one of the surviving original records of undeath, and what lay between it and our world. I'd found in that second-hand shop what I thought to be a fully intact volume of the dreaded Necronomicon.
Before even opening the aging text I could feel the swell of my questions ready to be burst open into answers. My eyes danced over the incongruous imagery as I slowly began to flip the first few pages of the tome. Abominable deformations of humanoid shape began to tug at the corners of my mind as I poured fourth, this was the work of true madness. If I were to believe what little I'd already taken in from this blasphemous text, then the answers to my questions lay much further than the simple act of one's own mental undoing. There was evil sewn somewhere between our realm and that of the dead that promised such activity, and then some more. It was then abundantly clear to me that the very rooting of this problem of monstrous behavior lay deep in the mouth of oblivion itself, what at the time I could only depict as hell. And thus seeking truth brought more promises of a glimpse into pandemonium. I was not prepared.
-To be continued.
