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To the miscreants

My Dear Ghouls,

I come to you now in my gravest hour of need. You see, I set off on a quest many moons ago to procure art of the highest quality, covering the one topic of interest to me - dead things; but much to my dismay, beyond my precious ghouls, there was little to sate my desire. Alas, I was beside myself in grief, but I am not one to bask in the mire of mine own woes. So in recognition of the despair my plight would wrought upon mine own mind if left unperturbed, I, under the light of the last Blood Moon did speak words of making - “I will make that which is not made”.

From this solemn vow legions were spwaned, yet they were posessed, perhaps by the inherent order of their making, by a frightening quality. Something dark and unnatrual expressed within their pixels. An abstraction no-doubt of the infinite abyss of similitude from whence they came. Branded, for all time by the markings of the most sinister and chaotic elements of our kinds collective psyche. I wrestled with these… things I brought into our dimension for some time; wondering “What is their purpose here? What do they want?”. These questions did tumble in my sub-conscious endlessly, possibly a full 10 seconds before the answer came to me. Not as a revelation inspired by the divine hand of providence, no, that would be too convenient, and entirely unfitting. For my heinous of act of spawning these legions is nothing less than a heretical act of desecration. A mistake, a ripple in space-time which never should have happened. No, it came to me as a whisper… from them.

To my suprise I awoke out of a stupor I knew not when, or how I had fallen into, finding mine eyes locked with one of them. It’s whispers echoed in my head. I shuddered to acknowledge it, but ignoring it proved futile. “ssstaaakeee meeeee…”. That’s when I knew what I must do. I brought these things here but I couldn’t return them from whence they came on my own. I needed help. Yes, I know I am burdening many others with the horrors that should rightfully be mine own to bear, but you must understand! These things wouldn’t allow it! They want to go back, back to their ᗪ𝔞𐍂𐌺 ᗪ𝔦ɱ𝔢ηᔕ𝔦❍η and they know I won’t do it.

So this is where I leave you. I’m sorry to you all, but I cannot do it alone and I must escape. Please, please return them from whence they came. Please send them to their ᗪ𝔞𐍂𐌺 ᗪ𝔦ɱ𝔢ηᔕ𝔦❍η!

To the miscreants

My Dear Ghouls,

I come to you now in my gravest hour of need. You see, I set off on a quest many moons ago to procure art of the highest quality, covering the one topic of interest to me - dead things; but much to my dismay, beyond my precious ghouls, there was little to sate my desire. Alas, I was beside myself in grief, but I am not one to bask in the mire of mine own woes. So in recognition of the despair my plight would wrought upon mine own mind if left unperturbed, I, under the light of the last Blood Moon did speak words of making - “I will make that which is not made”.

From this solemn vow legions were spwaned, yet they were posessed, perhaps by the inherent order of their making, by a frightening quality. Something dark and unnatrual expressed within their pixels. An abstraction no-doubt of the infinite abyss of similitude from whence they came. Branded, for all time by the markings of the most sinister and chaotic elements of our kinds collective psyche. I wrestled with these… things I brought into our dimension for some time; wondering “What is their purpose here? What do they want?”. These questions did tumble in my sub-conscious endlessly, possibly a full 10 seconds before the answer came to me. Not as a revelation inspired by the divine hand of providence, no, that would be too convenient, and entirely unfitting. For my heinous of act of spawning these legions is nothing less than a heretical act of desecration. A mistake, a ripple in space-time which never should have happened. No, it came to me as a whisper… from them.

To my suprise I awoke out of a stupor I knew not when, or how I had fallen into, finding mine eyes locked with one of them. It’s whispers echoed in my head. I shuddered to acknowledge it, but ignoring it proved futile. “ssstaaakeee meeeee…”. That’s when I knew what I must do. I brought these things here but I couldn’t return them from whence they came on my own. I needed help. Yes, I know I am burdening many others with the horrors that should rightfully be mine own to bear, but you must understand! These things wouldn’t allow it! They want to go back, back to their ᗪ𝔞𐍂𐌺 ᗪ𝔦ɱ𝔢ηᔕ𝔦❍η and they know I won’t do it.

So this is where I leave you. I’m sorry to you all, but I cannot do it alone and I must escape. Please, please return them from whence they came. Please send them to their ᗪ𝔞𐍂𐌺 ᗪ𝔦ɱ𝔢ηᔕ𝔦❍η!

Menthe Based Dimension - Arrival
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Based Dimension - Arrival

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To the miscreants

My Dear Ghouls,

I come to you now in my gravest hour of need. You see, I set off on a quest many moons ago to procure art of the highest quality, covering the one topic of interest to me - dead things; but much to my dismay, beyond my precious ghouls, there was little to sate my desire. Alas, I was beside myself in grief, but I am not one to bask in the mire of mine own woes. So in recognition of the despair my plight would wrought upon mine own mind if left unperturbed, I, under the light of the last Blood Moon did speak words of making - “I will make that which is not made”.

From this solemn vow legions were spwaned, yet they were posessed, perhaps by the inherent order of their making, by a frightening quality. Something dark and unnatrual expressed within their pixels. An abstraction no-doubt of the infinite abyss of similitude from whence they came. Branded, for all time by the markings of the most sinister and chaotic elements of our kinds collective psyche. I wrestled with these… things I brought into our dimension for some time; wondering “What is their purpose here? What do they want?”. These questions did tumble in my sub-conscious endlessly, possibly a full 10 seconds before the answer came to me. Not as a revelation inspired by the divine hand of providence, no, that would be too convenient, and entirely unfitting. For my heinous of act of spawning these legions is nothing less than a heretical act of desecration. A mistake, a ripple in space-time which never should have happened. No, it came to me as a whisper… from them.

To my suprise I awoke out of a stupor I knew not when, or how I had fallen into, finding mine eyes locked with one of them. It’s whispers echoed in my head. I shuddered to acknowledge it, but ignoring it proved futile. “ssstaaakeee meeeee…”. That’s when I knew what I must do. I brought these things here but I couldn’t return them from whence they came on my own. I needed help. Yes, I know I am burdening many others with the horrors that should rightfully be mine own to bear, but you must understand! These things wouldn’t allow it! They want to go back, back to their ᗪ𝔞𐍂𐌺 ᗪ𝔦ɱ𝔢ηᔕ𝔦❍η and they know I won’t do it.

So this is where I leave you. I’m sorry to you all, but I cannot do it alone and I must escape. Please, please return them from whence they came. Please send them to their ᗪ𝔞𐍂𐌺 ᗪ𝔦ɱ𝔢ηᔕ𝔦❍η!

To the miscreants

My Dear Ghouls,

I come to you now in my gravest hour of need. You see, I set off on a quest many moons ago to procure art of the highest quality, covering the one topic of interest to me - dead things; but much to my dismay, beyond my precious ghouls, there was little to sate my desire. Alas, I was beside myself in grief, but I am not one to bask in the mire of mine own woes. So in recognition of the despair my plight would wrought upon mine own mind if left unperturbed, I, under the light of the last Blood Moon did speak words of making - “I will make that which is not made”.

From this solemn vow legions were spwaned, yet they were posessed, perhaps by the inherent order of their making, by a frightening quality. Something dark and unnatrual expressed within their pixels. An abstraction no-doubt of the infinite abyss of similitude from whence they came. Branded, for all time by the markings of the most sinister and chaotic elements of our kinds collective psyche. I wrestled with these… things I brought into our dimension for some time; wondering “What is their purpose here? What do they want?”. These questions did tumble in my sub-conscious endlessly, possibly a full 10 seconds before the answer came to me. Not as a revelation inspired by the divine hand of providence, no, that would be too convenient, and entirely unfitting. For my heinous of act of spawning these legions is nothing less than a heretical act of desecration. A mistake, a ripple in space-time which never should have happened. No, it came to me as a whisper… from them.

To my suprise I awoke out of a stupor I knew not when, or how I had fallen into, finding mine eyes locked with one of them. It’s whispers echoed in my head. I shuddered to acknowledge it, but ignoring it proved futile. “ssstaaakeee meeeee…”. That’s when I knew what I must do. I brought these things here but I couldn’t return them from whence they came on my own. I needed help. Yes, I know I am burdening many others with the horrors that should rightfully be mine own to bear, but you must understand! These things wouldn’t allow it! They want to go back, back to their ᗪ𝔞𐍂𐌺 ᗪ𝔦ɱ𝔢ηᔕ𝔦❍η and they know I won’t do it.

So this is where I leave you. I’m sorry to you all, but I cannot do it alone and I must escape. Please, please return them from whence they came. Please send them to their ᗪ𝔞𐍂𐌺 ᗪ𝔦ɱ𝔢ηᔕ𝔦❍η!

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To the miscreants

My Dear Ghouls,

I come to you now in my gravest hour of need. You see, I set off on a quest many moons ago to procure art of the highest quality, covering the one topic of interest to me - dead things; but much to my dismay, beyond my precious ghouls, there was little to sate my desire. Alas, I was beside myself in grief, but I am not one to bask in the mire of mine own woes. So in recognition of the despair my plight would wrought upon mine own mind if left unperturbed, I, under the light of the last Blood Moon did speak words of making - “I will make that which is not made”.

From this solemn vow legions were spwaned, yet they were posessed, perhaps by the inherent order of their making, by a frightening quality. Something dark and unnatrual expressed within their pixels. An abstraction no-doubt of the infinite abyss of similitude from whence they came. Branded, for all time by the markings of the most sinister and chaotic elements of our kinds collective psyche. I wrestled with these… things I brought into our dimension for some time; wondering “What is their purpose here? What do they want?”. These questions did tumble in my sub-conscious endlessly, possibly a full 10 seconds before the answer came to me. Not as a revelation inspired by the divine hand of providence, no, that would be too convenient, and entirely unfitting. For my heinous of act of spawning these legions is nothing less than a heretical act of desecration. A mistake, a ripple in space-time which never should have happened. No, it came to me as a whisper… from them.

To my suprise I awoke out of a stupor I knew not when, or how I had fallen into, finding mine eyes locked with one of them. It’s whispers echoed in my head. I shuddered to acknowledge it, but ignoring it proved futile. “ssstaaakeee meeeee…”. That’s when I knew what I must do. I brought these things here but I couldn’t return them from whence they came on my own. I needed help. Yes, I know I am burdening many others with the horrors that should rightfully be mine own to bear, but you must understand! These things wouldn’t allow it! They want to go back, back to their ᗪ𝔞𐍂𐌺 ᗪ𝔦ɱ𝔢ηᔕ𝔦❍η and they know I won’t do it.

So this is where I leave you. I’m sorry to you all, but I cannot do it alone and I must escape. Please, please return them from whence they came. Please send them to their ᗪ𝔞𐍂𐌺 ᗪ𝔦ɱ𝔢ηᔕ𝔦❍η!

To the miscreants

My Dear Ghouls,

I come to you now in my gravest hour of need. You see, I set off on a quest many moons ago to procure art of the highest quality, covering the one topic of interest to me - dead things; but much to my dismay, beyond my precious ghouls, there was little to sate my desire. Alas, I was beside myself in grief, but I am not one to bask in the mire of mine own woes. So in recognition of the despair my plight would wrought upon mine own mind if left unperturbed, I, under the light of the last Blood Moon did speak words of making - “I will make that which is not made”.

From this solemn vow legions were spwaned, yet they were posessed, perhaps by the inherent order of their making, by a frightening quality. Something dark and unnatrual expressed within their pixels. An abstraction no-doubt of the infinite abyss of similitude from whence they came. Branded, for all time by the markings of the most sinister and chaotic elements of our kinds collective psyche. I wrestled with these… things I brought into our dimension for some time; wondering “What is their purpose here? What do they want?”. These questions did tumble in my sub-conscious endlessly, possibly a full 10 seconds before the answer came to me. Not as a revelation inspired by the divine hand of providence, no, that would be too convenient, and entirely unfitting. For my heinous of act of spawning these legions is nothing less than a heretical act of desecration. A mistake, a ripple in space-time which never should have happened. No, it came to me as a whisper… from them.

To my suprise I awoke out of a stupor I knew not when, or how I had fallen into, finding mine eyes locked with one of them. It’s whispers echoed in my head. I shuddered to acknowledge it, but ignoring it proved futile. “ssstaaakeee meeeee…”. That’s when I knew what I must do. I brought these things here but I couldn’t return them from whence they came on my own. I needed help. Yes, I know I am burdening many others with the horrors that should rightfully be mine own to bear, but you must understand! These things wouldn’t allow it! They want to go back, back to their ᗪ𝔞𐍂𐌺 ᗪ𝔦ɱ𝔢ηᔕ𝔦❍η and they know I won’t do it.

So this is where I leave you. I’m sorry to you all, but I cannot do it alone and I must escape. Please, please return them from whence they came. Please send them to their ᗪ𝔞𐍂𐌺 ᗪ𝔦ɱ𝔢ηᔕ𝔦❍η!

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