RIVULETS OF HALF CLOTTED BLOOD OOZE FORTH FROM THE SUPPURATING WOUNDS IN THE LIVING WALLS OF THE HATE TOWER, FLOWING INTO THE GROOVES CARVED IN THE FLOOR. A DREAD LIGHT EMANATES FROM THE NOW BLOODY SEAL, AND THE SIGILS OF THAT BLACKEST OF HOSTS FLARED TO LIFE. THE LEECH QUEEN, EVER HUNGRY, LATCHED HER PIERCING MANDIBLES INTO THE THROAT OF A CORRUPTED PRIEST, GREEDILY GULPING DOWN HIS LIFE FORCE, SHIVERING WITH PLEASURE. HER MOST UNHOLY SACRIFICE IS ACCEPTED; WHAT WAS BOUGHT IS NOW PAID FOR. LOST SOULS OF CHILDREN CRY OUT IN THE DARKNESS BEYOND THE ALL-CONSUMING FLAMES OF TORMENT, SWELLING IN ECSTASY AS THE DARK PACT IS FULFILLED. SATAN HOLDS ALOFT THAT MOST VENERATED GRIMOIRE, BOUND IN HUMAN FLESH, INKED IN BLOOD BY THE MAD ARAB HIMSELF.
THE NECRONOMICON.
THE DEMONIC LEGIONS, LED BY THE INFERNAL PRINCES OF HELL, ALL KNEEL AS ONE.
ON EARTH, DARK CLOUDS ROIL IN THE SKY. A KEENING WIND PICKS UP, TOUSLING THE HAIR OF A SMALL BOY. HE HEARS SOMEONE LAUGHING IN THE DARK PLACE BEHIND THE WOODSHED. HIS PARENTS WILL BURY WHAT'S LEFT OF HIM TWO DAYS LATER. THE PEOPLE THOUGHT THIS WAS THE WORST THING THAT COULD EVER HAPPEN
NONE KNEW OF THE TRUE HORRORS THAT WOULD AWAIT THEM...
THE NECRONOMICON.
THE DEMONIC LEGIONS, LED BY THE INFERNAL PRINCES OF HELL, ALL KNEEL AS ONE.
ON EARTH, DARK CLOUDS ROIL IN THE SKY. A KEENING WIND PICKS UP, TOUSLING THE HAIR OF A SMALL BOY. HE HEARS SOMEONE LAUGHING IN THE DARK PLACE BEHIND THE WOODSHED. HIS PARENTS WILL BURY WHAT'S LEFT OF HIM TWO DAYS LATER. THE PEOPLE THOUGHT THIS WAS THE WORST THING THAT COULD EVER HAPPEN
NONE KNEW OF THE TRUE HORRORS THAT WOULD AWAIT THEM...
THE SKY, CLOTTED WITH CLOUDS THE COLOR OF FRESH BRUISES, WEPT QUIET TEARS OF SYMPATHY WITH THE PARISHIONERS KNEELING IN THE HUSHED NAVE. THEY SUFFERED IN SILENCE, VAINLY TRYING AND FAILING TO IGNORE THE BLASPHEMY HANGING IN THE APSE. INFECTED SCARLET RIVULETS FLOWED UNCEASING FROM THE NAKED CORPSE OF THEIR DOOMED PREACHER. EACH DROP OF PUTRID BLOODY PUS ECHOED IN THE CAVERNOUS CHAMBER, THUNDERED IN THEIR EARS, DRIVING EACH ONE OF THEM MAD. AN INHUMAN SHRIEK FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE ISSUED FORTH FROM HIS DRY, CRACKED LIPS AT IRREGULAR INTERVALS. tHE TOWNSFOLK FEARED THEY WOULD GO MAD, BUT LITTLE DID THEY KNOW THE PURPOSE THEY WOULD SERVE, THEIR ONLY REASON FOR BEING LEFT ALIVE. SOME OF THEM HAD ALREADY BEGUN TO CHANGE.
THEY DONNED BLACK ROBES WITH HOODS THAT COVERED THEIR FACES. THEY BEGAN TO REPEAT STRANGE, SONOROUS CHANTS, SHUFFLING UP TO THE INVERTED CROSS ON WHICH THE HELL ARMIES HAD NAILED THEIR BELOVED MINISTER, EACH ONE CLUTCHING A GOBLET MADE FROM SINEW AND BONE. THEY PROSTRATED THEMSELVES BEFORE THE ICON OF SIN, FILLING THEIR CUPS WITH THE BLOOD OF THEIR DARK HOST, GULPING DOWN THE ROT UNTIL IT FESTERED IN THEIR CORRUPTED SOULS. IT IS THEY WHO WOULD TAKE UP SEATS AT THE LEFT HAND OF THEIR FATHER.
THE TOWNSFOLK FEARED THEY WOULD TEAR THEMSELVES APART IF THEY WERE FORCED TO ENDURE THIS UNENDING RITUAL OF HATE FOR MUCH LONGER, BUT THEY DARED NOT SEEK TO RELEASE THEMSELVES FROM THEIR EARTHLY BONDS. THEIR NEW MASTER HAD ALREADY SENT SIGNS WARNING THEM OF WHAT WOULD OCCUR SHOULD THEY ATTEMPT TO AVOID GLORIFYING HIS NAME. A YOUNG BOY OF THIRTEEN SUMMERS HAD ALREADY LEAPT FROM THE BELLTOWER. HE VISITED THE TOWNSFOLK AT NIGHT NOW, ONE EYE BULGING AND STARING MADLY AT THE SKY, HIS SKULL FLATTENED WHERE IT HAD MADE CONTACT WITH THE FLAGSTONES IN THE COURTYARD. NIGHT AFTER NIGHT, SCRABBLING AT WINDOWS, JOSTLING DOOR HANDLES. SOBBING TO HIMSELF IN PAIN AND LONELINESS. ATTEMPTING TO GET SOMEONE, ANYONE, TO PLAY WITH HIM.
THEY DONNED BLACK ROBES WITH HOODS THAT COVERED THEIR FACES. THEY BEGAN TO REPEAT STRANGE, SONOROUS CHANTS, SHUFFLING UP TO THE INVERTED CROSS ON WHICH THE HELL ARMIES HAD NAILED THEIR BELOVED MINISTER, EACH ONE CLUTCHING A GOBLET MADE FROM SINEW AND BONE. THEY PROSTRATED THEMSELVES BEFORE THE ICON OF SIN, FILLING THEIR CUPS WITH THE BLOOD OF THEIR DARK HOST, GULPING DOWN THE ROT UNTIL IT FESTERED IN THEIR CORRUPTED SOULS. IT IS THEY WHO WOULD TAKE UP SEATS AT THE LEFT HAND OF THEIR FATHER.
THE TOWNSFOLK FEARED THEY WOULD TEAR THEMSELVES APART IF THEY WERE FORCED TO ENDURE THIS UNENDING RITUAL OF HATE FOR MUCH LONGER, BUT THEY DARED NOT SEEK TO RELEASE THEMSELVES FROM THEIR EARTHLY BONDS. THEIR NEW MASTER HAD ALREADY SENT SIGNS WARNING THEM OF WHAT WOULD OCCUR SHOULD THEY ATTEMPT TO AVOID GLORIFYING HIS NAME. A YOUNG BOY OF THIRTEEN SUMMERS HAD ALREADY LEAPT FROM THE BELLTOWER. HE VISITED THE TOWNSFOLK AT NIGHT NOW, ONE EYE BULGING AND STARING MADLY AT THE SKY, HIS SKULL FLATTENED WHERE IT HAD MADE CONTACT WITH THE FLAGSTONES IN THE COURTYARD. NIGHT AFTER NIGHT, SCRABBLING AT WINDOWS, JOSTLING DOOR HANDLES. SOBBING TO HIMSELF IN PAIN AND LONELINESS. ATTEMPTING TO GET SOMEONE, ANYONE, TO PLAY WITH HIM.