I am committing these notes to paper for fear that I will never have the opportunity to relay what I have seen to another caring soul. Or, if I do manage to escape alive, I may have been rendered too incompetent to reliably describe these events by that time. I can already feel my sanity slipping from me. The thought that these pages might be found by the outside world in time is doubtlessly futile, but it provides me hope.
It seems that my dear wife was correct all along; my ambitions have led me to my peril. During my investigation, I have been captured by Nebuchadnezzar
's mad cult. The only solace I can take is in the fact that my suspicions were correct, and they plan to break the Great Old Ones' slumber. Although the individuals of this sect are more or less insignificant, other than Nebuchadnezzar
himself, I will provide a physical description of each in the hope that they may somehow be brought to justice for what they've done to me:
It is clear that many of them have become something other than human, if they were ever human at all.
The cultists don't seem to regard me as a threat in any manner. I am free to wander the Halls of Mist
as I please, at least as much as my condition allows. This notebook is no secret, and they even know of what I write inside. The Gatekeeper even supplied me with a list of their “assets” upon request! The cult is powerful, and have managed to acquire a robust collection of artifacts which is housed deep below the Halls, in a bottomless vault
.Attached to this page of the notebook is a yellowed leathery sheet. The sheet is covered with queer red calligraphy:
Their prized possessions, though, not listed there, are the Phyrexian Portal
and Naked Singularity
situated at the back of the Halls, in the great arcade. The cult believes that these two objects, combined in some way, will awaken the Old Ones. I have taken the time to peruse the folio and arcane book and have concluded that they are pieces of the fabled Necronomicon. I pray that they are yet too incomplete to enact the cult's plan.
Within the pages, though, are many complete recipes for arcane rituals. Scholars of the dark arts might recognize the demonic agreements Promise of Power
and Tainted Pact
, or the ghastly Polymorph
and, worse, Hecatomb
. The group includes me, forces me to participate, in many of their ceremonies, now. After my Snake Cult initiation
, horrible procedures have occurred almost daily. At least, I think so. Time has been difficult to measure for... some time.
During these rites, my mind travels outside of me, flitting through the blind eternities, filled with underworld dreams
. I see visions, familiar as childhood horror
s, unreal as aetherplasm
drifting past alien planets. There are flashes of violence. A faceless butcher
slaying a child. Unidentifiable squirming mass
es smothering an alien race. The light of distant stars refracting through an enormous mist dragon
. Meaningless flashes of colour, sound and intense emotion. Memories from other beings, other times. When I return to my physical body, I find myself exhausted and anemic. It's impossible to recall the time elapsed, or the events that unfolded.
I'm sure that the cult's meddling with the fabrics of space and time have caused punctures and tears. The horrors of my dreams are coming into being. Necrotic ooze
covers the floors and walls of the Halls of Mist, completely now! The cultists now appear as an unstoppable netherborn phalanx
. Horror of horrors
!, where there was once an inert portal at the end of the arcade leers a terrible void Maw
, ready to swallow the Earth!
My health is quickly failing. I am wracked hourly with fits of painful coughing, expelling substances I know that my body could not produce. I would sleep continually if not for uncontrollable seizures that break my dreamless slumber.
beyond any shadow of Doubt
, I am on the brink of Madness
; on a gibbering descent
into It. Mind twist
. My shred memory
... i can t evin recal the fais of my wife... did wee hav a familee?? mind SHAtTer
ed - - Ia!The writing becomes illegible. The next many pages are filled with unsettling depictions of unthinkable creatures.Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Kozilek Ugin wgah'nagl fhtan.
Lorthos fhtagn Ulamog Ugin fhtagn!
My health has returned. I feel strong and vital as ever in my life. Nebuchadnezzar
's cult seems to have forgotten about me, also. They stand in the Halls of Mist
(which are completely clean, again) day and night, chanting the names of their dieties: Wrexial, the Risen Deep
, Kozilek, Butcher of Truth
, the nameless Cosmic Horror
, Lorthos, the Tidemaker
, It That Betrays
, and Ulamog, the Infinite Gyre
. Day and night here, actually, is somewhat meaningless, as the sun never moves behind the curtains of swirling mists. I suppose, after all that has happened, it is not too difficult to believe that we are on Teferi's Isle
, from the children's tales. Traveling on a magical island outside of time would explain my lack of need for food or rest. I have been exploring my home for perhaps months now. This place was once inhabited, but now it is only them and I. It's impossible to determine my location on Earth, so I have decided to draw a map. The island is large, and it's difficult to hold a pen in my claws, but I have nothing if not time. Perhaps someone who sees this will know this place.
It is time to rid myself of this notebook. I'll cast it to the currents of the ocean, and hope that someone finds it with the power to help. I would pray for this, but I do not know what to pray to. My dear wife Mary, I love you. I wish that we do not live long enough to witness the coming storm.