Faded Gods I should never have bought that treasure from Lustria. It has been four days since the incident and my dreams are still haunted by visions of ancient stone cities, the rasping of lizard tongue, and the gaze of something older than the gods. I am putting the following account from quill to paper so that others may know of what I have seen. I fear I am losing the grip upon my mind and I may sink into true madness. But I still have time, if only a little. My name is Markus Heissmann, a scholar, collector, and professor at the colleges at Altdorf. Despite the constant intrusion by the Witch Hunters and Church of Sigmar, I had made a name for myself in the study of the religion and deities of the Empire, Bretonnia, Estalia, Tilea, Araby, Ancient Nehekhara, Albion, the Holds of the Dwarfs, and more recently the old gods of the mysterious lizardfolk of the New World. Precious little exists in our knowledge about the realm of Lustria, so when a ship did return to Marienburg with treasures taken from the stone cities of that realm, I spent a considerable sum in purchasing a gold chased tablet inscribed with serpentine shapes and what seemed like glyphs of god-like beings. I studied that treasure for several weeks, making sketches of the god-like images. One was of a great cat-like beast that seemed to be shown towering above tree tops, another a great sun-like image that seemed to be shown as alive (great strange jointed arms reaching to touch the land below), another a great feathered serpent that wrapped itself around the bottom of the tablet, from its feathers small carved humanoid shapes seemed to emerge. Long I pondered them and what they were and what they represented. And yet one morning, I found the tablet had changed. The great cat-like beast had vanished from the tablet. For a time I thought I was imagining it. Clearly I was tired (I had spent the previous evening with my friend Von Richtheim discussing the origins of Ulric over a bottle or three of fine Tilean vintage) so at first thought my mind was playing tricks on me. But as the days wore on it became clear that one of the god-like beings had truly vanished. The following day, I found that the sun-like entity had also vanished from the tablet. Strange new glyphs like lettering where it had once risen proudly. Disturbed by this, I kept the tablet in constant vision. It was just after dusk when my wearied eyes saw the feathered serpent shift and turn as if alive. A faint blue light seemed to shine from the tablet and the winged serpent appeared to sink into the tablet. Without reasonable thought I placed my hand over where it had been and found my vision and mind flung to a different place. Stars wheeled around me and voices that were less sound but mathematical and soul fired meaning threw me around the void like a ship lost in a great storm. I was a single guttering light against beings so ancient and unfathomable that it drove me insensible. I think I screamed as visions of a world shaped by inhuman hands flashed before me. I saw the children of the old gods, the fabled lizardfolk. I saw them build great cities and I watched as Chaos destroyed all and broke the song of the stars. And yet in the darkness, I heard a sibilant hiss and a great serpent appeared from the darkness. Unlike it’s feathered sibling, this great serpent exuded fury and vengeance. It regarded me with such anger that I felt my heart grow cold as death. And then darkness took me. I awoke to find the tablet bare of the strange Lustrian gods apart from a new one that had appeared. The coiled serpent of twin tails that regarded me with such hatred and hunger from the tablet that I thought it might spring forth and devour me. Since then the great serpent watches me from the tablet and all my nights are filled with nightmares of Lustria and its creators. I dare not go to anyone lest they think I am mad. But I must be mad now. The old gods are gone. But one remains. Vengeance remains. And we will all be consumed by it until the stars reawaken. The nightmares grow longer. +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ Mein Herr, We discovered the above entry clenched in the hand of Markus Heissmann, who was found dead in his home. It would appear that he had been poisoned by some exotic toxin we have been unable to identify. Curiously there were two puncture marks upon his neck. His body was lying upon a golden tablet that was featureless and blank. We will continue our investigation into Herr Heissmann’s murder, though our leads have brought us little. It is my belief that pressure from the university and his failing research drove Herr Heissmann to lunacy and he took his own life to appease this snake god he believed was hunting him. We await your orders, Adept Varius.
So, I did mention in the entry thread but for those who never did see, some context: April I attempted to sail from Antigua to the Azores to Plymouth. Five days and about 266 nautical miles into the Atlantic a nasty storm (that the maritime weather report had not reported) hit us suddenly, breaking off the boom from the main mast, shredding the headsail, ripping off the forestay and otherwise tearing and tangling all mast lines apart from the lifting halliard line on the main. We tried motoring back but the fan belt went and the spares turned out to be too small. Five days of being tossed around and with a very jury rigged mainsail on afore-mentioned halliard line, we managed to get close enough to the US Virgin Island of St Thomas to be towed. Given that this trip was meant to put my mind at ease and mentally recover...when I finally was able to get back to the UK at the end of April, my mental state was not great. I wrote the above piece pretty much in a single day before the looming deadline and poured a lot of my then insanity into the piece. I am a lot better now. Anyway. I went for something I felt was perhaps a little too safe but was a love letter to the classic sci-fi and horror writers of the late 19th to early 20th century. Whilst I am not a massive Lovecraft fan (or even that well read of his works) there was certainly a heady element of his brand of horror I took to this piece. Likewise, I did have Wells, Stoker, and even a bit of Poe in mind when I wrote this story. Canny readers would have noted a few of the comedic Ratty flair in a few places. The comment about the Tilean wine whilst discussing Ulric has a few comedic layers similar to the style of Jerome K. Jerome. Even the names of the characters (because I struggle naming characters) are very tongue-in-cheek. Heissmann you can translate as hot man (either poking fun at the trope of bombshell handsome/beautiful treasure hunters/archaeologists/academics such as Indy or Croft or a literal poke at the character being in constant hot water with the authorities and meddling with the affairs of the Old Ones) and Richtheim can be translated as treasonous house (possibly a parody on the hospitality of the man having led to a treachery in Heissman's memory of the plaque.) Review-things: Many thanks for the kind words and glad you enjoyed the mystique of the plaque of gold. Aww, many thanks for the high praise indeed. It helped I poured a little of my own insanity into the piece! Iä! Iä! Y'ttar Fhtagn! *Eldritch Noises* Ok...i'm not actually a big Lovecraft fan but I do appreciate the gods and monsters he created and the stories that I have read. Honestly, Sotek is such a potent and terrifying deity. He is vengeance against the ratmen but to me also all those who seek the ruination of the Lizardfolk, Lustria, and the Great Plan. Also a bit of Poe inspiration. It was pretty good to kinda vent and get something like this on paper. I am better now, honest!
+1 Simple but great story. It did set a very moody scene and it totally sucked my into the situation. Grrr, Imrahil