Necronomicon Manuscript

Skarl the Drummer

OF SKARL THE DRUMMER

When MANA-YOOD-SUSHAI had made the gods and Skarl, Skarl made a drum, and began to beat upon it that he might drum for ever. Then because he was weary after the making of the gods, and because of the drumming of Skarl, did MANA-YOOD-SUSHAI grow drowsy and fall asleep.
And there fell a hush upon the gods when they saw that MANA rested, and there was silence on Pegana save for the drumming of Skarl. Skarl sitteth upon the mist before the feet of MANA-YOOD-SUSHAI, above the gods of Pegana, and there he beateth his drum. Some say that the Worlds and the Suns are but the echoes of the drumming of Skarl, and others say that they be dreams that arise in the mind of MANA because of the drumming of Skarl, as one may dream whose rest is troubled by sound of song, but none knoweth, for who hath heard the voice of MANA-YOOD-SUSHAI, or who hath seen his drummer?
Whether the season be winter or whether it be summer, whether it be morning among the worlds or whether it be night, Skarl still beateth his drum, for the purposes of the gods are not yet fulfilled. Sometimes the arm of Skarl grows weary; but still he beateth his drum, that the gods may do the work of the gods, and the worlds go on, for if he cease for an instant then MANA-YOOD-SUSHAI will start awake, and there will be worlds nor gods no more.
But, when at the last the arm of Skarl shall cease to beat his drum, silence shall startle Pegana like thunder in a cave, and MANA-YOOD-SUSHAI shall cease to rest.
Then shall Skarl put his drum upon his back and walk forth into the void beyond the worlds, because it is THE END, and the work of Skarl is over.
There may arise some other god whom Skarl may serve, or it may be that he shall perish; but to Skarl it shall matter not, for he shall have done the work of Skarl.

"The Gods of Pegana" by Lord Dunsany

The Black Lotus Rituals

   Abdul Alhazrad was pleased with the spot he had chosen to perform the Black Lotus Ritual. It was a one room hut on the edge of the wastelands. Once the home of a madman who wandered the hills talking to shadows and oddly formed rocks, that hermit had disappeared one night during a sandstorm and the place had been shunned since. The hut had a single window facing south and that too was a good omen; for as a boy Alhazrad had glimpsed an ice bound mountain in the grip a fever dream and had known it was in the southern most reaches of earth. Perhaps the visions that the Black Lotus granted would allow him to see that mountain again or even the things that slumbered beneath it.

 

    Alhazrad seated himself in the midst of a complex series of circles and mystic symbols drawn in white chalk on the floor. He chanted the Dho-Na formulae as he lit the brazier. The dried Black Lotus began to smolder and lazily the blue smoke rose, tendrils coiling and twisting like serpents. As the smoke drew near his face, Alhazrad inhaled deeply.

 

   The lotus fumes struck his brain like thunder, he had brief but terrible sensation of falling down an endless tunnel, then he was standing, staring at his still chanting body, Alhazrad's astral form had been freed from the cage of flesh. He turned toward the window and could see countless paths leading from it. Alhazrad stepped through and began to travel.

 

   He flew through nearer astral realms and beheld spirits of the dead, some lost in  false bliss and others lost in equally false torment. Those realms could not hold him and he probed beyond the nearer realms and glimpsed the maelstrom of time itself. Lean and hungry Hounds of Tindalos stalked the edge of the maelstrom, he spoke to those things, telling them the time and place to slay his earthly enemies. That vague scent was enough for the tindalosi, they leaped into the vortex to find their prey.

    Alhazrad guided his spirit sideways into the lands of dream. There he marveled at great shantaks on the wing and was briefly entertained by the antics of playful zoogs. Then he watched as the zoogs devoured a lone traveler and his amusement became revulsion.

    He left the dreamlands and returned to the plane of earth. He sent his spirit to the very bottom of the sea where he stood with Mother Hydra and her daughters before the sunken tomb of Great Cthulhu. He felt a call from the sepulchre and he entered within, his spirit passing through the stone like mist. There he beheld the corpse of Great Cthulhu, a mountain of alien flesh that was dead but still dreaming. That dreaming essence of Cthulhu flowed out to touch him and something attached itself to Alhazrad, pain ripped through both his astral and corporeal forms.

     The agony shattered the spell and sent the sorcerer's soul crashing back to his body. Alhazrad  came to his senses with the morning light, the black lotus had long since burnt out, the sigils and diagrams on the floor were smudged from the convulsions that had wracked his body through the night. But something had changed in Alhazrad, as though a veil had been lifted from his eyes, he perceived certain angles were corridors leading to other worlds where other things gazed hatefully upon mankind. The were also changes in his physical form, but Alhazrad decided it would be best to hide those from curious eyes and bound himself with rags as though he were a leper. For those new parts of himself fought for control and they were so very hungry.

 

In the Temple of Yezyud

The sorcerer Ludvig Prynn had traveled to the temple of Yezyud , in the library of that foul temple was a book written by a madman named Abdul Alhazrad, a book called the Necronomicon by some mystics and Prynn intended to learn the secrets of that dreaded tome. The journey had been difficult, for not only is the land of Yezyud barren and inhospitable, it is veiled by magic and many who wander into that place never return. But the sorcerer had prepared well and made his way to the temple with little trouble beyond maintaining control of the four apprentices who had accompanied him, they sensed the strangeness of this place and desired with all their hearts to flee. Only fear of Prynn had stopped them from bolting, that and the certainty that they could never find their way back to the caravan route as the stars that shone above them were abnormal and the night in this land seemed so much longer than the days.

The priests of Yezyud guarded Alhazrad's book and it would be difficult to gain their trust, only a scholar who humbled himself before their terrible god and gave proper sacrifice would be allowed to pass the great iron door and enter the library. Prynn had studied the lore of Yezyud and he knew what was expected of him; he allowed the priests to cast his four apprentices into the sacrificial pit and sang praises to the huge, many legged thing called Yezyud as its tentacles drained the screaming victims of their bodily fluids. In a final abomination the wizard went into the pit and offered the monster a taste of his own blood to seal the pact.

The reward was great, Prynn was granted one full day to study the Necronomicon. In that time he intended to absorb all the eldritch knowledge his brain could bear. The iron door swung open and closed swiftly behind Prynn, his shaking hands unlocked the ancient book and he began to read. An hour later his screams began, followed by sobs and pleas to open the door. But the servants of Yezyud paid no mind and the door was not opened until the first rays of dawn.

Prynn strode forth with a strange light in his eyes that never left him for all of his days. The Necronomicon had opened his mind to realities he had glimpsed only in Black Lotus induced nightmares, beings from beyond had spoken to Prynn through those ancient runes and he was no longer a mortal man. Without speaking a word Prynn left that same day, his weary camel suddenly skittish of the man it had carried across the barrens to this unholy place.

The priests of Yezyud went on with their normal affairs; stalking the hills for sacrifices to feed their gluttonous god. But curiously, Yezyud retreated to the honeycomb of caves beneath his temple and did not emerge to feed until a fortnight later, when Prynn had passed far from the hidden land of the Yezyudites.

Prophecies of Pnom

   For a time Cthulhu and the Great Old Ones will be freed from their tombs to prey upon the herd of mankind. In their fear and madness the remnants of humanity will call upon their Elder Gods to save them, but those gods are weak and fearful, and they will not leave Kadath to face Great Cthulhu.

  In this time the crypts under the Monastery of Tsan-Chan will give birth to the Avatar of Nyarlathotep that is to be known as the Prince of the Black Flame. He shall inhabit a body sewn piecemeal from age old corpses and cover himself with yellow robes to hide his decay, only those with the third eye will see his crown of black fire and wings of black flame.

    The Avatar will cause the stars to change their course, then will Cthulhu and his spawn be made to retreat to their tombs and be sealed again, dead but dreaming. All men will turn will turn to serve the Avatar and he shall build a great empire to cover seven tenths of the earth. Mighty altars will be set for the Outer Gods and they shall run red both day and night. Elder Seals shall be broken and the demons beyond Kadath set loose on the world to be worshipped and given all manner of sacrifice.

   In the far reaches of Kadath will the Elder Gods of man cower, for the world will no longer be theirs. In time they will be forgotten by all men. Their names not written down on any parchment or carved upon any tablet they will grow old to become mere shadows, eternally whispering of all they have lost.

("Prophecies of Pnom" as translated by Prof. Christian Morgan)

The Primal Vampire

    Istvan Hunyadi was a desperate man; in the spring of 1520 the church had ordered the bold Hungarian knight to destroy the vampires who plagued the countryside. To this end Hunyadi gathered a group of brave men, each of unwavering faith. But the effort was a disaster, the vampires tore his men apart like rag dolls and seemed to have none of the weaknesses the priests had claimed for they did not cower or weaken when presented with the either the Cross or doused with Holy Water.

    Hunyadi sought out a heretic named Prynn, a man reputed to have knowledge of ancient lore concerning vampires and other things even more blasphemous . Istvan used his influence to get Prynn access to the libraries of the church and there, locked away and untouched for centuries they discovered a moldering scroll written in a strange language. The knight was repulsed by the horrid runes, feeling as though merely looking upon them was a sin. He became even more horrified when Prynn read the glyphs, revealing the terrible rituals that could give power to equal the vampires and the location of the monstrous thing that even the undead feared.

  The knight and his sinister companion left the following day, vaguely hinting that they would travel into the Carpathian Mountains on some pilgrimage.

   Hunyadi returned from the journey alone, never speaking of what they found or of the fate of Prynn. But the knight brought back a darkly stained wooden stake, vowing that it was the key to destroying the vampires.  He quickly proved the value of his mysterious weapon by killing a dozen of the undead over the course of a fortnight, more vampires than had been slain over the previous century. Rumor spread that Hunyadi drank the blood of the vampires he killed and chanted in strange tongues, causing his own warriors to draw back in fear of his battle madness. But the men who started these tales disappeared and no more was spoken of the matter.

Priests whispered about the origins of Hunyadi’s stake and the nature of its power; some suggested it was a splinter from the Ark of Noah, others thought it to be a limb pruned from the Tree of Life, some even speculated it was fragment from the Holy Cross itself. Hunyadi remained silent, occasionally mumbling that it was a gift from his god if one of the priests pressed him on the matter.

   The elder vampires came into the land, things so old they had fed upon the slaves who built the pyramids of Egypt, and they also whispered into the ears of the church leaders, revealing the true origins of Hunyadi's weapon. It was a splinter from the stake that impaled the heart of the first Vampire, holding that primal monster in its tomb. Hunyadi prayed to the father of the undead each time he slew its grandchildren and it became stronger with each sacrifice. Soon it would be strong enough to tear the stake from its heart and rise to consume all the living and the undead.

   The church leaders acted swiftly, Hunyadi was charged with witchcraft and sentenced to death by fire. As he burned Istvan Hunyadi screamed for his undead master to save him. But to no avail, he was burnt to ashes. That night the elder vampires gathered the ashes of the fallen knight, they mixed them with salt and scattered them across the land that no necromancy might ever raise Istvan Hunyadi.

   In a crypt hidden in the Carpathian Mountains the primal vampire listened to the death cries of his servant but paid little heed, the loss was a small thing for it could not die and eventually another would come to free it. The monster returned to its eons long death sleep, dreaming of revenge on its children and the ocean of blood waiting to be drank.