by Peter Hall
Demons
‘Monsters of Eteria’ from ‘Eterialumen 1320th year since the cataclysm’
Demons are evil creatures that live in the shadow realm beyond the void. They come in many forms, yet they are all very dangerous. Demons are not able to exist on this plane unless they are connected to a Dark Magick User adept in Void Magick, that shares their Hugr with the demon while summoned. Many human cultures mistakenly assume that the Dokkalfar or ‘Dark Elves’ are demons, but this is a misguided belief handed to humans by the Ljosalfar or ‘Light Elves’ during the Second Age, before the great cataclysm.
E.
VI
The Serpent
High in the northern mountains of Asgard, evil was stirring. An ancient castle was casting a dark shadow across the land. The huge doors to the castle were wide open and one by one, they came streaming out. They were coming from the annex room inside the doors. In the center of the annex room was a pool of black blood with a stone wall surrounding it. They were clawing their way over the edge of the wall in an endless cue formed somewhere in the depths of the pool.
Past the screaming and growling sounds, the wailing and the roaring emanating from the annex room in an awful cacophony of noise, was the throne room. A massive throne sat in the centre of the round room surrounded by thirteen grotesque statues. The room was small and it had a high ceiling rising up into darkness above. A creature of pure evil sat on the throne. It was gathering strength. It would soon complete the mission. It’s black eyes stared forth, watching It’s brethren spawn from the pit. It could feel them. All of them. For they were It and It was them. Every life they took, every life It took, filled the void. Once the void was filled, It’s mission would be complete. The thirteen would rise and it would be the end of everything. A new age would dawn upon Eteria and the land would belong to a new breed of life. It was evolution... It was evolution.
There was another driving force however, in the dark recesses of the creatures mind. A dormant motivation which had almost become subconscious. It was the desire for respite, for an end to the madness. For death. Soon would be the hour. It could hear them screeching and shouting, they knew how close It was to completing the mission. The creature was an unnaturally tall humanoid with pale white skin and dark veins covering his body. It was hairless and had long sharp black fingernails. It had a large mouth full of sharp jagged teeth, long pointy ears, a flat nose and completely black eyes. This horrific creature was once a man, who lived in a small village in the north-east. His name was Vigo.
Many years ago, on a freezing cold day, high in the steep snowy mountains of Asgard, a man in a tattered cloak was limping up a winding road in the centre of town, returning to his home for the evening. The man was unusually tall and had many ailments and afflictions due to his ill-formed bones. His deformity had caused him many troubles in his life and he was ridiculed by most of the townsfolk. They called him a giant and the freak of Janstead and the strong able men of the town would often kick his legs out from under him as the town sport. The women of the town would sometimes throw rocks at him when he passed by and the children sang cruel songs about him.
Despite his misfortune, Vigo was a gentle and humble man who had empathy for others and treated people with kindness, because he had seen the cruel nature of men and understood that their unfair treatment of him was born of selfishness and ignorance. He would often buy sweet treats from the local market and give them to the orphan children of town but on this day he had not stopped by the market. A storm had come in and he was hurrying home in the wind and rain. When he got to his cabin he crouched through the door and shut it behind him, taking off his cloak and shaking it off. His mother was sitting in a chair mending a pair of pants and her eyes lit up when he came through the door.
“Vigo! My beautiful boy, come in and sit by the fire.” she said.
Vigo looked after his elderly mother and now that his father had passed away it was up to him to provide for the both of them.
He sat down by the fire and warmed his frozen hands. He had been picking berries (his height did have some advantages) but they were always struggling for food. Vigo’s father used to go and hunt wild boar and deer in the woods just west of Janstead but Vigo had never liked hunting and always felt squeamish when it came to preparing meat. This had displeased his father and now that his father was gone, he wished he had spent more time going hunting with him.
“Mother,” he said, “Tomorrow morning I will go hunting for boar.”
She looked shocked. “Hunting for boar? No my son, you do not need to do that! We can manage.”
“No mother, my mind is made up. I will go at first light.” he said and smiled. He kissed her forehead and turned in for the night.
The next morning at first light Vigo got dressed and left the house, heading into the thick woods west of the village. He had his fathers bow and hunting knife and he was determined not to come back empty handed. He trekked for hours into the snow covered woods and he finally came across some tracks. He took an arrow out of his quiver and followed the tracks, scanning the trees and looking for the animal.
He kept going deeper and deeper into the woods as he followed the tracks, then he saw something in the snow up ahead. As he got closer he saw that it was a deer. It had been gutted and mutilated, blood was splattered all over the area. Vigo felt nauseous at seeing the gory remains and he crouched over and tried not to vomit, sweat started beading on his forehead. He stood up and looked again. What could have done this? A bear? He started looking around for any sign of danger, but the woods were quiet and all he could see were trees and snow.
He noticed the blood trailed off in the snow past the deer. I’m not going back, not empty handed. I must provide for mother now. I am the man of the family now.
He walked along and he saw blood splatter trailing off over a small hill up ahead. He followed the trail and as he came to the top of the hill he saw the hill went down into a small valley between another hill. He carefully walked down the hill and when he got to the bottom he saw there was blood up ahead where the valley went deeper into the ground. He followed the valley downhill and it came to a steep hill at the end. Vigo saw blood on the ground and then he noticed a crack in the hill at the end of the valley. It was a dark crack in the ground, just large enough for a person to fit through. He took a deep breath and squeezed through the crack. It opened into a cave under the hill. It was dark but there was light filtering through some cracks in the rock above and water was trickling down.
He slowly took a few steps into the cave and as he looked around he heard something. Breathing. He thought it might be his own breath echoing in the cave and he took another step forward. He noticed the awful stench in the cave. It smelled like rotting carcasses. He looked to his left and then he saw it. In the dark, shadowy cave there sat a white, thin, hairless, pointy eared creature, crouched and staring straight at him. It opened its mouth and bared its huge sharp teeth. Vigo was frozen with fear. He raised his bow and his hands were shaking as he aimed the arrow at the terrifying creature. It pounced on him, the arrow missed and bounced off the cave wall.
The creature knocked him to his back and was standing on top of him on all fours. He screamed and the thing slashed his face with its long black claws. He cried out and looked right into the creature's eyes. They were black, empty windows into the void. Vigo was pinned down by the creature. He couldn’t move. To his horror, it spoke to him in a low, gravelly, awful voice that echoed around the cave.
“You have wandered into my lair, and for this you will die. Yet you will be reborn. I will bestow upon you a gift. I have lived for over a thousand years and as I leave this realm I will transfer to you all the ancient wisdom and power I have accumulated throughout the centuries.”
It grabbed Vigo’s face and opened its mouth wide, Vigo’s eyes widened as the creature bit down into him, the long sharp teeth sinking deep into his neck and he screamed as it sucked the blood from his jugular vein. The creature sa
t up and looked him in the eyes.
“Now drink from me.” It said and ran one of its long, sharp claws across its own throat, slitting it wide open.
Black blood poured down onto Vigo’s face and into his mouth and he was coughing and choking, trying to turn his head but the creature was holding his face and squeezing his mouth open as the vile liquid poured down. The creature stabbed Vigo in the gut with his claws and shouted at him, “Drink!”.
Vigo’s mouth was full of blood and he couldn't breath so he swallowed it down. He kept drinking it as it poured into his mouth for a while longer and finally the creature released its grip on his face, slumped over and dried up into a dusty, lifeless husk. Vigo’s vision faded and he lost consciousness.
Vigo opened his eyes, he was lying on his back in the darkness. His face was stinging and his stomach was pierced and bleeding. He could feel the warm blood flowing from his wounds. He lifted his head and his hair was wet with blood. He winced in pain and got to his feet. Light was beaming through the cave entrance and he slowly made his way towards it. His vision was hazy and he could hardly keep his feet but he made it to the crack in the wall and squeezed through. Help me...
He squinted as he emerged from the cave, the sunlight was blinding and he could hardly see. He struggled and fell a few times but he made it back up the hill and headed back towards the village. The villagers stopped and stared at him as he made his way back up the main road of the town, covered in blood and filth. He knocked on the door and his mother opened it and almost fainted.
“Oh my boy what has happened!” she cried and helped him inside.
She tended to his wounds and he spent the next week in bed, too sick to move. His mother was fearful that he would die. His skin was pale and sweaty and his eyes were red and bloodshot. His fingernails and lips had turned blue and his breathing had become shallow. After a week he started talking again but it immediately frightened his mother. He seemed angry all the time and he yelled at her to leave him whenever she came to his bedside. She would leave him food but he refused to eat. After a week he got out of bed and walked over to his mother, who was sitting in her chair mending his cape. She turned and smiled.
“My boy you are up and walking! Are you feeling better?” She asked.
He still looked pale and sweaty, he was naked and his bloodshot eyes were fixed on her. He grabbed his mother by the head and twisted it, snapping her neck with a ‘crack’. She dropped to the ground, he took his cape and he walked outside, into the night. The villagers of Janstead never saw Vigo again, they assumed he had run away after the murder of his mother and they started calling him the Killer Giant of Janstead in their stories and songs.
Vigo walked west through the snow covered woods for days, the voices in his head were constantly whispering to him, leading him further and further into the wilderness. He wandered into the northern hills and finally came to a castle, high in the Drogan Mountains overlooking Asgard. He pulled open the giant door to the castle and walked inside. The ancient castle was empty. He walked towards the pit in the centre of the room and looked down into its depths. The voices told him what it was for. He walked further into the castle and entered the throne room. He looked at the pillars surrounding the room and the voices told him what he must do. There was an imposing throne made out of stone in the center of the room that had intricate carvings of demonic creatures covering it. He walked around to the back of the throne and lifted a loose tile from the ground. He reached in the hole and pulled out a handful of coins.
He left the castle and headed west towards a small village nearby. He found a market and he purchased a hammer and a set of chisels. The trader was shocked at his appearance and was glad to see the cloaked stranger leave the village. When Vigo returned to the castle he began to carve the pillars in the throne room into statues of strange and grotesque creatures. He would carve the figures by day and at night… he would do what the voices told him.
Many strange stories started spreading across Asgard. Rumors of a monster that would come at night and steal children from their beds. Vigo was taking the children of Asgard back to the castle, drinking their blood and tossing their bodies into the pit. The voices told him to fill the pit to the brim. Many years passed and Vigo lost his hair and became terrifying in appearance. He was pale white and his fingernails were long and black. His eyes were bloodshot red and his teeth were becoming sharp and long. He had completed the mission. He had filled the pit. The voices told him to stand on the dead in the pit. Vigo stepped over the stone wall and stood on the bodies stuffed into the deep hole.
A large, shiny, black spider leg slowly emerged from the bodies in front of Vigo and extended up, then snapped forward and stabbed him in his stomach. He screamed out as another four spider legs stretched out from the pit and stabbed into his legs and arms. They were draining the blood from his veins. He screamed as he was completely drained and the pit slowly filled with blood up to his knees. Then the spider legs started pumping a black liquid into his body that slowly spread through his veins. His eyes turned black and he stopped screaming and smiled. The blood filling the pit turned black and he smiled so hard that his mouth ripped at the edges. He cackled and the spider legs sunk back into the pit.
Vigo stepped out over the stone wall of the blood pool and walked up to the throne. It was time for the beginning of the end. The voices were pleased with him. He sat down on his throne and stared into the void, listening to the voices. After some time a rider approached the castle. The horse slowed down and the rider dismounted, then jogged through the snow towards the castle. A man in a black robe walked through the castle doors and dusted the snow off his shoulders. He was wearing a necklace with a silver bat pendant. The man approached the throne and knelt before Vigo.
“What is thy bidding my lord.” the man said.
Vigo looked down at the man. “Bring forth the creatures of the night.” he said in an awful, deep and gravelly voice.
A stone on the floor in front of the man sank down under the castle and a small stone pillar with a book on top of it rose from the floor. The man took the book from the pillar and scurried off towards the castle doors. As he was leaving the castle, the man looked back and saw a terrifying white demon emerge from the pit inside the castle and climb over the stone wall, covered in black blood. He turned and ran to his horse outside. He mounted the horse and raced down the mountainside as fast as he could go, as the wind howled and the snow fell over Asgard.
The man in the black robe kept riding all day through the mountains and rested in a small village for the night. The next day he headed south and by nightfall he had reached the town of Reynir. He returned his horse to the stable and briskly walked along the main road until he reached the town church.
As he got to the large building he walked around to the rear and took a key from his pocket. He opened a door leading into the church and locked it once he was inside. He across the small room and lit a candle. There was a bed and a desk in the room and piles of books and scrolls on the floor. He placed the book he had taken from the castle on the desk and removed his robe. He was a man of about fifty years of age, he was bald and had a pointy grey beard. One of his eyes was green and the other was milky white. He sat down at the desk and stared at the book.
He opened the book and began to read through the pages in the flickering candle light. The book was a manual for conjuring ancient monsters from the deep and bringing the dead back to life using arcane rituals and blood sacrifice. The book contained a prophecy foretelling the coming Dark Age, when thirteen Elder Gods would rise from the depths of Eteria and lay waste to its inhabitants, giving dawn to a new evolved species that would be born from darkness.
The man studied the book until dawn. As the sun came up he hid the book under his bed and put on his red robe of the Church of Esra. He put a red cap on his head and grabbed a copy of The Light of Esra from a pile on the floor. He left his room and locked the door behind him. He walked around to the front of the church
and unlocked the front doors. He walked up to the altar and placed the book on a podium. He turned around and started lighting the many candles surrounding the altar of Esra, which was a large, beautiful marble statue of the goddess, depicted naked and holding a flute and a small lamb.
Over the coming weeks the priest kept performing his sermons and rituals and at night when he retired to his quarters he would scribe copies of the evil book he had obtained from his master. He would make five copies and send them out to the far reaches of Eteria. One night as he was scribing the fifth copy of the book, there was a knock on his door. He hid the book under his bed and went to the door.
“Who in the name of Esra is there at this late hour!” he called out.
“I am death.” came the response in a deep loud voice.
His heart was pounding and his hands started to shake. He slowly reached forward and unlocked the door. The moment the lock clicked, the handle shot down and the door swung open, knocking the priest back into the wall. As he fell to the floor he looked up and saw his master, standing there before him. The tall robed figure stepped towards him and leaned down, its black cape billowing unnaturally. It looked through him with its black, empty eyes.