The following account was found written inside of a hut located in the uppermost northern mountains of Norway, next to the rotted remains of what appeared to be a middle-aged Scandinavian villager who’s house was broken down and himself killed and partially devoured. It has been translated and properly modified for easier reading.
-
It was the worst mistake we ever could have made.
Not the battle. Not any sort of damn conflict. Not trying to fight something as damnable as those daemons.
No, our greatest mistake was ever daring to take a single step into THEIR world and alerting them to us, to our very existence.
Our most grievous and terrible mistake was walking through that gods-damn door to a realm unlike anything we ever could imagine.
I remember it clearly, as if were not even seven nights since that most terrifying and accursed day. That day when myself and my comrades assembled together in our ranks, our shields and armor silently swearing to protect us, our weapons in their sheathes or being held firmly in our hands.
We were united and strong, our hearts burning with pride and courage, our war chiefs were men of valor and we had been chosen to enter through the bright ethereal entrance that lead beyond the veil of our world.
Oh, I remember that day and that damnable accursed ground upon which we first set our booted and sandled feet, and how we all caught notice of just how strange even the air smelt and tasted.
This land seemed to be some sort of great swamp, but vastly more dreary and wild, as if never had a man even been here once before in all the long years of its own existence.
Somehow, we could feel it within our very souls that we were the first of the race of men to ever see this place, this land.
We were immediately ensnared in an unnatural fog, it’s color reminding any of us of sick grass and leaves.
But there was nothing in the fog. Nothing that we were aware of yet, and so we patiently waited for all of our company to pour forth through the celestial door so that we could reform our ranks properly.
We steadily did our tasks in this, and the chiefs seemed to altogether understand that this was not the time to be shouting out orders and silence was the best way to be safe for now, but those who were of keener eye and ear amongst us at this time soon became aware that we were no longer the only living creatures out here that drew breath.
Our sense of alarm now aroused fully, we assembled swiftly and set ourselves in battle array, our eyes scanning the mists ahead and all around us.
Our chieftains, the greatest of whom was Guthorm son of Beorn, held a brief council of war right there on the field with us and all was agreed upon that we should take fifty steps forward and then halt as one, after which we would shout out a challenge to our unseen foes, and so we did, calling upon Wodin and rest of the gods to strengthen us and letting our foe know that we feared them not.
And it was right afterward when we had finished our cry, that the air was suddenly filled with one of the many sounds that I can never forget no matter how much I wish I could.
It was a noise from an unnatural throat, the voice of something as far away from human as I am from being the long lost firstborn of Thor himself! It screamed like a woman in travail and howled as a wolf and screeched akin to a deer who is being consumed by many famished wild boar while still awake, and this horrid sound had the same effect on our morale as if we were but children who had been forced through ice into frigid waters at the height of winter.
It was not even just a single horrible voice alone that was there, but merely the announcement of the returning screams in response to our own voices.
For it was from all around us this abominable cacophony suddenly burst forth. On every side and from every angle, even above our heads, we could hear the screams of the all the unnumbered damned of Hel and another great and terrible noise that sounded as if it was a host of the most terrible birds beating ten thousand wings at one time whilst flying right inside our ears.
Guthorm stood his ground and did not stumble or step back, but even his back was bent over by the might of the ghastly sounds as they wore down on him. Still, his sword remained in his hand even if his grip was wavering and his palm sweaty, and his courage inspired us to stand together and not to fall or flee in utter fear and shame.
But we could all still feel it, the dark feeling of horror that had gripped our hearts and refused to let go, and the beating of our own hearts echoed in our ears as did those dread screeches from the abyss.
My own body was already wet from fear, I do not hesitate to write this truth down at all, and my heart was trying to burst through my chest as the daemons screamed endlessly for what felt like an eternity of torment, but suddenly ceased as swiftly as it began.
My fellows and I could still hear the echoes in our ears, but the source of it all was silent now, as it had been when we had first entered this realm of mystery and growing fear.
Then, Guthorm stood to his full height and raised his sword as he turned to us, his mouth opening to no doubt speak something that would chase the fear from us and instill in us courage and valor, and perhaps to call upon Wodin for us to grant his favor to his faithful servants.
But then, a sudden flash of shadow appeared from the right and got behind him as swift as an eye can blink, and his head was just as swiftly no longer connected to his shoulders as his blood splashed across the faces of the men nearest to him.
And with that bloody surprise, the carnage truly began.
As if springing out of the Aether itself, black flashes laced with a green flaming light suddenly burst forth down into our ranks from the fog above and the nearby visible bogs and barren dead trees surrounding us, tearing through our ranks effortlessly at speed faster than that of an arrow, shredding through flesh and armor like a freshly sharpened blade in the hands of a seasoned warrior cuts through the tender flesh of a dog.
It was not a fight at all that we were engaged in, it was a horrid slaughter unlike anything we could have imagined possible. The blood of my brothers flew into the air like the ocean splashing upon our shorelines, their arms and legs and heads and innards being ripped from their bodies and flying in the air in a display of violence and brutality that has not been seen anywhere else. It was so utterly horrible, I tell you, it was just so horrible.
I have said that earlier, before the slaughter began we had felt that we were not the only creatures out in this barren land that drew breath. I still believe that we were not, for there was NO WAY those vile abominations needed to breathe air as we did.
Those horrors can only be from the deepest and darkest circles of oblivion, and now they know that we live and where we are.
One of my comrades was set upon by a vile beast, and despite my horror I brought up my axe and swung it down onto the twisted body.
I jest not when I say that the monster did not even flinch or lose any fur or skin or anything. There wasn’t even any fur or feathers to lose at all, just a twisted black armor that covered it’s entire massive gaunt body and it rung from the striking of my weapon like I was striking some sort of metal or solid stone. My axe bounced off the hideous body with that strike and I swung down with increased desperation upon its bulbous oversized head, the action producing the exact same effect as my first swing had.
Then it turned to look at me, and I swear to you all, it felt like it was looking THROUGH me with those eyes. Those massive, soulless, lifeless eyes.
The only thing I could perceive in them was… amusement.
The daemon was amused at me and was now giving me a look that mocked my failure to harm it as the blood and flesh of my fellow man dripped and hung from those ghastly jaws and oversized fangs. Those fangs that were more like knives then the teeth of any living creature I have ever seen.
Then it simply turned back down to the mutilated body of the dead man and it ripped off his head with no effort at all.
At this point, the remainder of us had scattered and fled in terrified dismay, I myself throwing away my shield and axe and just running faster than ever have.
I cannot tell exactly whatever else I saw in anymore detail, as I can still smell the blood of my people. Can still hear their screams and see their body pieces scattering the ground and blood pooling and splashing.
I feel terribly sick now, almost every man was killed there in the worst of ways, but I was allowed to escape with my life.
-
This passage was complete, but the next ones have been compiled into one, including the final draft with the torn paper and the unfinished account.
-
The evil followed me home.
We never should have gone through that mystical door and made the other side aware of our existence. We should have done as the old men told us to do and avoided it as much, if possible even worked to find a way to close it off somehow.
We should have warded the area completely off and placed trusted men to keep watch. We should have been more careful and willing to listen to the Druids when they told us that only death and suffering awaited all if we were to go through that gate.
But we did not, and instead did something utterly foolish. Now we suffer endlessly, trying our hardest to remain silent and hidden from sight. Each day is a struggle and each night a nightmare, every morning the ground runs red and every night the humming and howling of the hunters are everywhere.
Everyone is dead here or will be dead soon enough, and we will be gone without a trace. I do not know why the gods have abandoned us to this darkness, whatever we have done must have been something utterly profane and unwise to incur their wrath like this.
Or maybe that’s not the case. Maybe they never really were gods to begin with, were they?
Oh my ancestors, I cannot start think that way. I am still alive for now, and that is all I can do even if I must live with what I have seen.
-
They are gone, it seems so far at least. The horrors that have terrorized this land and consumed my people and all the game in the forest and mountains are no longer here. I have been able to venture outside my home, this outpost of sorts in these mountains, and I have seen and heard nothing with the exception of a few small birds and perhaps a single mouse that fled from me after I stared at it for a moment.
The forests are almost empty of any sort of life now, barely any noise or scent or sight.
I have been able to slowly make my way down the mountain and through the silent forest and even come to the edge of the trees. I watch the dead village and those silent houses, and sometimes even at night I have convinced myself to go through the trees and try to reclaim some level of confidence and strength in myself.
I have allowed myself to bury what little remains of what I believe to have been my family, and with the grief and sorrow I felt, I feel my love for them all growing as I remember the fate of old before this all happened, how happy and proud we were.
I also took it upon myself to bury all of my people that I still could, and I am grateful that I was able to do this undisturbed and with a bit of peace.
Now I come by and simply watch the graves. The graves of all those I grew up with and knew, or rather those who died here and not in that land of death beyond this world.
I go to the edge of the trees and I watch each day and every few nights. Strangely I feel a sort of draining sensation the longer I stay, as if this truly is wearing me down significantly in many ways. But it is something that I must continue to do while I still can.
I owe it to them all for bringing this upon them.
-
They are here now, I do not know when or how, but they are here! I have seen the dread Queen of the abyss with them and she is the most horridly ghastly among them all, the memory of her makes my blood freeze and my skin feel like it’s trying to crawl off my rattling bones.
I do not know how I realize that the most terrifying and massive of these fiends is female, but somehow I do. I just KNOW that she is their mother and that they are her children.
Tall, so very tall, her great legs punctured as if by wounds of a thousand years of bloody war and her wings like those of some terrible fly and akin to her spawn, laced with terrible gashes and burns.
They are like horses in their not basic shape and stature, but she is so much more enormous and makes them look like puppies compared to a great wolf. Her long twisted horn growing out from her head like a vaunt malformed bone, and her eyes… oh gods her eyes.
They are the same eyes that stared at me that day in mockery when I failed to harm one of her damned children, I realize that now. She was looking through ITS eyes back at ME, she has been watching me this whole time and playing with me and letting me feel some level of hope that perhaps I may live on and no longer have to see her deathly brood ever again, only to arrive now with them all and rip it from me!
Those burning malevolent eyes that are the same color of the dreadful fog that hid her horrific children in that accursed place before they slaughtered my brothers and followed me back here, the same sickening and unnatural shade of green.
I can feel hear in my mind, hear her voice in the very depths of my soul. I can hear her dark whispers so damnably clear yet I cannot properly understand what she is saying.
I saw them just before I closed off the house to the outside and am here now. Those terribly lifeless eyes peeking out at me from the forest, that dead forest with its skin rotting off and its bare bones that are sticking out, and those endless eyes fading in and out of my vision from the all-consuming darkness that calls me to come out and be swallowed up forever in its maw.
I have set my traps around the cabin and have boarded up every window and blocked the door, I have tied many ropes and laced the ground under the windows and at the foot of the door with broken pieces of splintered wood and metal, I have made sure that my axe and knives are always with me, but I am so very afraid. I do not know why I am doing this because I cannot hurt them at all or somehow escape, but I am still trying to regardless.
-
I looked out for a moment, just for a moment out through the narrowest gap possible in the door. I saw paw prints, foot prints, hoof marks… leading to me.
Deep, violent marks clawing and crushing their way into the soil and stones up to my door, and I have seen those beasts of blackness standing so very still on the edge of the trees.
I breathe, and I can feel them reacting to it.
They can hear a cloud passing overhead and they can track me by yesterday’s shadow. They can detect my every breath and movement. SHE can see them all, my every motion, my blood pouring through my veins and every beat of my heart.
She is here, now. In here
now with
Me.
From the shadows.
She is the house itself.
She sees
it all. Leaning down..,,..,.
Over my shoulder.
Every
word that
I
put
down…
Author's Note
Lemme know what you think so far! Thanks.
