Whispers From The Dark

Wisdom Reaffirmed

    Maxson woke in his cell, unsure how he arrived there, unsure of even his own name. He remembered something about a book, and possibly some sort of yellow rune, but he was not certain. It was dark and cold. The wrought iron of the cell bars creaked and rattled in the night. After sitting in the cell for about an hour, Maxson decided to attempt escape. As hopeless and impossible as it seemed, he would find a way. There's always a way, right? He said to himself. But this was different. He was in Portsmouth now. He was inches from His grasp, here on this island. His cell was empty. He heard a voice from across the room, clanking chains, and the violent screams of a madman. "Surrexit non est alius," the voice said. He did not notice it at first in the darkness, but a man was sitting in a chair just feet from his cell. The figure stood, and said, "Hoc est, novum heros, tum Caan?" He couldn't understand what they were saying, he had never heard this language before. The one named Caan (he assumed that was a name, as it sounded quite unlike the rest of their words) said, "Neque ita prorsus, Vahlok. Et a speciali, hoc unum. Heri advenit et magnorum quin vera narras. Diceret etiam periculosum Kondar ita se cohibere." The man Caan had chained up began to yell in shocked tones, "I HAVE SEEN THE ELDRITCH TRUTH! NONE CAN STOP THEM! THEY. ARE. COMING!" Vahlok said to Caan, "Quod nomen est ejus? Sicut non potest cohibere in cellula ei iuxta Maxson?" Maxson, upon hearing his name, began to listen more closely. "Arden nomen eius. Jacob Arden. Et ego non video cur non," Caan said. Maxson assumed this meant Arden was the madman, most likely being taken to be imprisoned just as he had been.

Caan left, leaving Arden and Vahlok alone, with Maxson watching from his cell. Vahlok reached deep into a jar sitting on a table and pulled out a large, slime-covered blue slug. It glowed faintly, revealing Vahlok's sinister grin. He chained Arden to a wall and let loose the creature onto the floor. Arden began to shake and scream loudly, saying, "No! You know not what powers you toy with! This could do more than kill me! It could corrupt me and transform me into something greater and more dangerous than all of you! It is a phantasm, an echo, a left-behind familiar of a Great One! Get it away, NOW!" Then, as the beast drew ever closer to Arden, his eyes flashed a bright fiery orange, and it seemed as if a new madness took him.

He began to yell louder than ever before, saying, "NO! LET IT TAKE ME! I MUST LEARN MORE! I MUST HAVE ITS KNOWLEDGE! GIVE ME INSIGHT, I WILL SEE MORE THAN EVEN HIS EYES!" Vahlok smiled, and said to himself, "Faciam ut materia et ecclesia..." and let the phantasm crawl up to his prisoner. Arden laughed in bone-chilling tones of madness and hysteria, and settled down. The phantasm extended its tentacles around his head and a bright pale blue light flashed in between the creature and Arden, and it immediately shriveled up and gently rolled off of Arden's unconscious body. Vahlok unlocked Arden's shackles and took his body in his arms, and in an instant, a large amorphous mass of tentacles and dark energy surrounded him and they disappeared with a loud boom.

Maxson felt something calling to him out of a strangely familiar void. A yearning, an untapped wealth of... Something. These words of Great Ones and knowings of eldritch truth awoke something deep within him. He felt it reach out ever stronger and then it took hold. He was learning what felt like knowledge from eons past. Perhaps it was. Maybe it wasn't. What was certain was that he was Maxson no longer. He was William Mason, celebrated historian, who ventured into the depths of a dark library, who met the King face to face. He was back, memories restored. He was also one other thing. Trapped.