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Memories of Quar'toth
Taken from the Journals of Daniel Holtz
First Entry.
I am now writing this entry upon the leathery surface of a demonic hound's skin that I have just killed only moments ago. Yes, that is a piece of skin you are holding. Rest assured that I am laughing at your discomfort. But do not take it so badly, rest assured you are avenged - the devil has wounded my right leg and I have more reason to grimace in agony now than laugh at your discomfiture. But pleasantries aside, to the task at hand!
It's been months, at least I think it's been months, since Steven and I have entered this damned world. To say that the young lad is strong and healthy is surely an understatement. Any other infant would have been suffering from hunger and malnutrition by this time, not he though. The little imp is actually smiling at me. I cannot say that the fortunes and the gracious Lord has not been watching over us both, for after a day upon our arrival I have had the tiring duty of making sure that several packs of, what appeared to be, demonic hounds would not turn us into their meal. Suffice to say, since I am writing this down, fortune, my poor skills and God has allowed us to remain safe and healthy… though I cannot say the same for our comfort.
The place that is now our prison is the product of a twisted mind. Vile, hard and oppressive to the human psyche. Demons - primitive, animalistic ones - roam free and wild in this forsaken land. Their danger to us unending, and yet one would find this place surprising familiar. Perhaps, I assume, that is a part of its mystique. Contrary to what Sahjahn had implied when he said 'Darkest of the Dark worlds' this world is quite bright. The months that we have been here, I don't think there has ever been an evening. There had been no moon, no stars, no twilight nor peaceful repose from the endless bright heat: just eternal sunlight that ravages the mind and dampens the soul.
The boy and I had to rest in caves, usually high up near the cliffs (because we had arrived on a desert canyon) that, as I've said earlier, is infested with ravenous predators. Food consists mostly of wild moss (mostly for Steven) and the flesh of the several demonic hounds that I've managed to kill (surprisingly appetizing) for me. Cooking and fire is not a quandary as there seems to be ample fuel in the form of a thorny vine growing near the caves where the child and I are staying. My most pressing concern at the moment is for the child and his welfare.
Nutrition is at the top of my priority for him. Shelter we have. Safety, however temporary, we also have. But I fear that moss, even one that is mixed with some kind of syrup to create a sort of porridge, is bad for the poor child. There is water here, though (Yes! Water in hell!), but I'm afraid it has given my stomach a most unpleasant awakening. I feared for the child when I boiled it and gave him some to drink. I feared that he would suffer from the same afflictions I had received. He has not. Surprisingly, the boy has had a better time adapting to the wretched environment than I have. In fact he even seems to be enjoying himself in this place. It's almost as if he is among his own kind – demons. That is what I am most scared of. I do not know what sort of creature this is. Spawned from something that cannot be. Train and raise him here? In this damned place? I fear for what may have been unleashed into this Universe. Had I somehow stumbled into something that I am completely ill equipped to comprehend?
Nevertheless, to the task at hand!
Tenth Entry
When we fled the Canyons when the migrating demonic wasps came, we had to leave most of what we have gathered over the years: Clothes (from the hides of those I've killed), Digging tools, bowls and some containers, weapons and some primitive utensils I've managed to scrape together. Unfortunately, a set of my journal was also among those left behind. All that remains of it now is the first entry which I, for reasons of comfort and sentiment, have kept inside my clothes as a source of nostalgia, perhaps a memento of what I had done to be here, and this, the latest installment.
Steven is now around four to six years old. The boy is greatness itself. His mind is incredibly sharp. His memory precise and photographic. The skills and training, that I am giving him, is proceeding wonderfully. He has killed many demons in these canyons, taking their flesh as clothing, their meat as food and their claws and jaws as trophies. If Angelus were here he would probably be as proud as I am of the boy, though I hate myself for thinking such thoughts. All these happened in the canyon. We are now walking at a relentless pace through a jungle. There are no fruit trees but there are plenty of demons to eat here.
It's been almost two months since we have entered this jungle. It is the most vile place I've known, worse than the canyon: insects with poisons everywhere, plants and trees that secrete noxious gas, demons that are shaped like monkeys; and the perpetual droplets of poisonous water from the canopy of leaves that secrete them. We adapted to our new home. It is here that I continued Steven's training. Expanding his combat skills and weapons training, tracking (by tying him to trees and forcing him to hunt me down), traps and medical aid. These sessions were enjoyable - Good times.
Beyond fighting, Regardless of the impracticality of it, I also endeavored to teach him the European classics, which I can recall up to a point. I taught him how to read by tracing words on the ground as well as mathematics and other sciences. He learns but I'm afraid he does so to please me, and given that there is no use for a Locke or an Aquinas in killing demons, I cannot say I can blame him. He is more interested in fighting and hunting, and given the circumstances in this damned place, I cannot blame him. But nevertheless, I continue to teach him about the civilizations of man. He will need it someday… when we return.
Innocence and brutality is a cosmic mixture within the boy. Despite our happi… contentment (is a better word) in this place, everything is dangerous. It is not a place to live. It was a place of death and killing! And yet heaven shines even in hell, for bad as all these may seem, our timing in being here was also fortuitous, because for the first time we have encountered a demon that seemed capable of talking.
It was incredible and provident.
The boy wanted to eat it but I, of course, restrained him. (Ah, Youth!) I captured the demon, small and hardly bigger than Steven, and brought it back to camp. I wanted to know what it knows. Time spent in a canyon full of primitive demons has caused me to think that Quartoth had no intelligent demons at all. Apparently, I was wrong.
It took only, probably, a few days to learn the demon's language. Yes, my mind is very sharp just like Steven's - I say this now without vanity, simply a fact. The demon was very open to us because of my cunning – that and torture.
The creature spoke a language that it claimed was spoken by the most powerful demons in this world – Kluthu'kar, it said. It seems that beyond this forest there are several mountains that hide a number of cities beyond it, cities that are built by the demons of this damned world. In addition to the geography, it also told us many things – customs, legends, ideas and who and what had the power - all of which was evil and foul.
I did not know what all the information garnered meant for me and Steven but I was fairly certain that we had to know about these places and their inhabitants. The knowledge gained from such a place may be crucial to our very survival. And so on the next day, we packed camp and started out of the jungle, much to Steven's chagrin. He wanted to hunt down more Monkey-like demons inhabiting thick-trunk trees around here.
The demon we captured? I'm wearing it now.
Eleventh Entry
I have had little chance to write. I beg forgiveness.
It's been almost two years now. At least, it feels that way. Steven certainly looks two years older (and his eyes seem to say that he is older than that). The jungle was bigger than expected by the way, which I later learned was called the land of perpetual sorrow. The climbing of the mountains was difficult in comparison, especially since it was full of ice at the top. The long trek was time consuming and, usually, Steven and I would pitch camp somewhere on the mountains to rest.
It was during these quiet times that I taught him about his father, Angelus and his mother, the whore known as, Darla. He was pained just as I was pained by the stories I told him: He, by the realization that he was as foul as the darkness that he had fought and killed since his earliest memories and I, for hurting him through my words.
But truth is truth and I will not embellish it. Which is why I told him that I was using him to kill his real father, a painful and cynical enterprise with no foreseeable outcome. To my great relief, Steven said: "I know. It is part of the darkness that I must face."
I was encouraged by these words. I continued on with stories about my family, stories of his parent's atrocities and all the murky ambiguity that has come to rule my life since. It was painful to us both. When it became intolerable for me to recall the people I had lost, I would steer Steven's lessons to more familiar things – literature, history, philosophy and all the knowledge I had - just to take away the pain (I was also somewhat of an intellectual and I was glad that my memory was still dependable that I may impart these to the boy). I think Steven knew the reason when I digress and I am most grateful to him for not mentioning anything.
The weeks spent climbing the mountain were the happiest days I had with my surrogate son. True, it was dangerous and life threatening but I think that it was in these quiet moments that I and Steven truly began to bond as father and son.
I taught him as we climbed, as we slept, as we fought for our very lives. He learned many things during the climb, things that would enrich his mind and toughen his soul… a soul I hope is not of the darkness.
Sixteenth Entry.
Around eight days ago, we encountered the demons that call themselves the Kluthu'kar. They are warlocks! Their cities are massive, no human civilization could compare with their enormity… or their evil.
But just as well, I wish we had never gone over the mountain. I wish we had stayed in that wretched jungle. The first Kluthu'kar we met, Steven and I, were forced to kill. It was a most difficult battle and seeing as how they fought without honor with their wretched magicks, it was next to impossible. But nonetheless we have won. And now we are being pursued for such a victory! We had to leave our camp in haste again, forcing me to leave some of my entries behind.
The Kluthu'kar are comprised of various demons, all of which are powerful either of magick or of brute strength. They are pursuing us relentlessly, always on our heels. Steven, the poor boy, is doing most of the fighting for this old man is getting too old. And though he is masterfully killing the curs by the dozens he was already wounded several times. I think the human body could only take so much punishment, and one that is not even a man's yet.
The Kluthu'kar want us alive, I keep thinking to myself. More importantly, they want Steven alive… The reason for which I already have a vague idea as to why.
The dear boy is a celebrity in hell!
But enough of that! Steven and I are building traps now. We hope that as we move again very soon (after I finish writing this entry down) the traps will stop the Kluthu'kar, allowing us ample time to retreat back to the mountains and into the forests, hopefully, losing them there.
I don't kno…. The entry is torn and bloodied at this point
Seventeenth Entry.
I am now caged like an animal.
I was such a fool to stop and rest like that. Now, my son and I are captured… separated. I was brought here, in what appears to be a cavern, no cages, no guards, just an eternally narrow labyrinth with sparse lighting - a maze. I was dragged unconscious into one part of this cavern, a bright room that was a sanctuary to the darkness beyond. It was here that I was chained to a wall. Now I know why they call Quartoth the darkest of the dark worlds. There are entire cities underground, bigger than the ones on the surface - every one of which was as dark and corrupt as the other, all of them ruled by the enigmatic demon gods that call themselves the Kluthu. Here, the surface was a kind of wilderness and posed as a door to the real horrors beneath, explaining why our lives in the darkest of worlds were not dark at all: All the horrors, all the powers could be found beneath the soil. Beneath the flesh, as the warlocks would say.
I'm trying to rest now, conserving my energy. There will be plenty of time for escaping later. Besides, I think several ribs were broken in the struggle to catch us… but they are healing now. My only pain now is that I don't know what the wretches are doing to my son.
As always fortune is with me, there is moss in these caverns and there's some water coming from the stalactites. I was feasting. Hah! I don't know how long I have been here but I am praying to God that Steven is safe.
What felt like centuries passed by before I was visited by one of the Kluthu'kar. The demon was most foul. It had the face of death and it was clothed in a red overcoat with a dark material under it that looked like leather armor. Experience fighting these creatures, however, has taught me that the material is as hard as steel and flexible as silk. The creature walked/floated towards me, a curving serpentine sword in its hands. I was so sure it was going to kill me.
I was wrong. To my surprise, we talked. And to my even greater surprise, in English!
"So. Come to kill me at last." I said first in their language.
"Not at all. We want Steven's cooperation." The English was without accent. "To that end." He gestured at me.
I did not betray my surprise at the English words. "Cooperation?"
"Deluded old fool! You have no idea the enormous gift you have given us in the form of the abomination!"
"My son is not an abomination!"
Laughing. "And I suppose his real parents were supposed to give birth to such a one?"
"How did you know that? Steven would never tell you. Did you torture him for that information?"
"Torture our messiah?" The creature laughed some more. "You have no inkling of the enormity of what you have done! But then again neither does Connor."
"His name is…" He choked me.
"We have been watching you for a long time Daniel Holtz. We care not what you were in your world. In here, you are nothing.
"We knew that you would one day arrive here in our territories. We knew of what it was that accompanied you. Ahhh…. He shall beckon forth a new age. An age that shall bring us revenge and power all in one."
Suffice to say our discussion tarried off to what their plans were for my son. It seems that they have certain designs to turn him into one of them, a vile warlock. And they intended me to help them by using me as leverage. I refused so I was tortured and in front of my own son. It seems that torture was a form of art in these parts.
The experience was most painful, I assure you, I screamed and cried a lot… but all the pains of this flesh is nothing compared to the screams of my family still ringing in my ears.
They made Steven watch. And to my eternal pride, the boy's face was cold as ice. He did not flinch or cry. He would never cooperate with the demons unless I ordered otherwise. He was that strong!
Eighteenth Entry
The warlock that had tortured me left scowling. Steven followed him with two guards flanking my son on both sides. Having large amounts of demon energy pass through your veins can allow you time to think and reflect about your options. Though bad as it may seem, warlock training, I reflect, might actually be beneficial to Steven's future, to his survival. Also, there was also the prospect at the tortures being halted; that would be pleasant.
After days of endless screaming and agonizing pain, I was finally allowed to talk to Steven. It seems the Kluthu'kar think it good torture to make a broken man talk to a loved one. Demons!
Anyway, I told him what I had decided, the benefits and the future investment in sorcery as necessary for us, foul as it may be. The boy was unsure about my directions, it seems that he feels aversive to the idea of magick, having been raised in God's ways. But I assured him of the mitigating circumstances. But even so, he refused to listen, convinced that I was brainwashed.
I told him I wasn't and used my best arguments.
"Portals!" He cried. He was surprised.
I told him that the curs might know magicks that could get us back home. Steven did not know how to feel about this. But I assured him of my conviction in this. We argued several more times until we had exhausted all our reserves.
Steven walked back with his captors. He was angry with me for making him study the demon's flame but I knew he would obey me in the end. He was wise as well as loyal if a little arrogant.
Home. That is all that matters… that and vengeance… Angelus!
Nineteenth Entry
I think it's been almost a year now. Steven visited me a dozen times, always with eyes watching him, making sure there was no plot between us. The demons need me as leverage and they know it, but then again, that does not matter to me really. We will escape one day and that is certain, the demons can do nothing about that.
For now, I am pleased with my son. The child is in his teens now and he is, to my reluctant chagrin and his, a most promising Kluthu'kar warlock. He listened to my directions and followed them to the letter. He is carefully studying the wretched demons and their magicks, slowly gaining their strengths… and planning to exploit their weaknesses.
In addition he was also learning portals, an enterprise I was glad I had goaded him into. It seems that regardless of the lack of portals in and out of this world, the Kluthu'kar know a substantial amount about them. Steven told me that our beneficent hosts were once exiles into this world, that they were once part of a massive demonic empire that stretched across countless worlds. Because they were exiled here, it could only mean one thing. This world is a prison world, theirs as much as ours, which explains the lack of gateways.
Steven told me that they were banished here by their masters for supposedly trying to take control of the empire. They lost.
And so they are here now, waiting for a chance to return…
Twentieth Entry
My son visited me wearing the clothes of our captors. Red overcoat over a skin fitting leather armor that covered the whole body up to his neck. I was told that it was very comfortable. I for one would prefer the rags that I still wear. There's no telling what treacheries are hidden in those fabrics.
Over the span of, I think around, two years, Steven and I have formulated a secret hand language, one that we used to communicate our plots with each other. Suffice to say, we have not been found out yet which is most fortunate as we have not really made up the details for our escape. All we have now are bits and pieces of ideas.
While we discuss our plans for escape with our hands (most of which consists of turning this city into Sodom and Gomorrah) I verbally asked Steven about his dealings with the demons, an innocent discussion. During the discussion, the boy would be rude to me, giving the Kluthu'kar the impression that he was being taken in by their foul magicks.
According to what I hear from my son as well as from the Kluthu'kar, Steven has made a name for himself up there. He has become a hero of some sort. They're calling him the Destroyer! It seems that a number of primitive tribes of demons inhabit a stretch of land beyond this place. They haven't been subjugated and the warlocks want the brutes destroyed. As a test of what Steven had learned, the curs sent him into battle with an army behind him. This was according to Steven, a part of his training.
Steven always managed to kill many and it seems that he was a good general. He killed these demonic brutes and took their skins as trophies, which he showed me in our visits. I was proud of him but he didn't take the compliment too kindly. I know the reason why and I know that there is very little choice at the moment.
Steven told me a lot about the Kluthu'kar. It seems that they were constantly suspicious of each other, a flaw I was sure he was exploiting and was evident in the fact that they've erected several runes around this world that would keep unwanted eyes from their activities. In addition to these, he told me about their battle tactics. The warlocks, my son said, had decimated this world with a disease that turn its inhabitants into Kluthu'kar type demons. This disease was like some kind harbinger of destruction, preceding the main army and destroying any form of resistance (I shudder to think if such a power were unleashed on Earth).
The disease originates, Steven said, from Kluthu gods. These gods, three in number, were prophetic in nature and is said to lead the Kluthu'kar on an appointed date against all other rival demons. I asked him about these demon gods. Steven said that he had never known of them intimately, except for one, a creature who referred to itself as Marastoth. I did not say anything, but what he said troubled me immensely.
After the talk about our captors, Steven showed me something amazing. A book and not just any book it was Plato's Republic and Dante's Paradise. I looked at him with startled eyes. He explained that the warlocks had many books like these. He was learning about our home world as well as the ways of hell. He read the classic works as studiously as his training in the demon's ways. We did not like what the possible reasons might be for such books. Were they planning for Steven to return to Earth? And if so, why? We tried to ignore the coming speculation by digressing. There was no point in getting ahead of ourselves.
Steven did his best to calm me by showing me some of his powers by pretending to be boastful. It seems he has mastered certain spells that create clouds of demonic gas, quite poisonous, he told me. Another spell was that of a spiking arc of red lightning that upon contact, envelopes the target with a sort of noxious infection then melts its surface. These were very troubling revelations. I suppose the boy wishes me to see what I had forced him into. It is as if to say: Look what you have done to me!
In a way, that is true! The pain I have caused him and the pain that I will cause him are indeed diabolical… But I don't care. I look around this place and I know that I truly belong here… for what I have done… and what I will do! I should have realized a long time ago, before Quartoth, that I had gone to hell before I even died.
Twenty-First Entry
They now call him Nebadon, the Destroyer.
After years of agony, I am still chained to a section of the cavern. I'm disappointed. I'd thought hell would be a lot worse.
The visits are as not as frequent as I'd like anymore and when the warlocks do allow Steven to see me, it is with more eyes spying on our movements than before. As I jot down these words on bits and pieces of the blanket the warlocks gave me I must tell the disturbing change in my son. His eyes seem more tired – faint pigmentations of red and black fill up around the eyes. He's constantly agitated and more or less a little… insane.
His most recent visit to me almost a day ago (I think it was a day ago) revealed to me the most terrible news.
"Father," he said. His face was taut and he looked like he was about to break down weeping. He did. "They… did something to… me!"
"What?" I feared for the worse. Had they tortured him? Had they done some foul thing to him? Suddenly, I wanted to kill myself for letting him learn the demon's ways. "Did they hurt you?"
"There… is something inside me. I was spying on them. I overheard one of them and he said that I'm turning into some kind of higher demon. He said that I would have 'the powers of a god' and that I was their… messiah." I became alarmed at that point. What if the demons discover our ruse?
I did not immediately comprehend any of this but the boy ranted some more (much to my chagrin about our security). Incomprehensibly, he babbled on and on about the coming destruction that is about to be unleashed. Something about a war with the demons that banished the Kluthu'kar. He told me that they knew of his coming and that they have given him powers that will 'shake the very foundations' of the hell worlds.
I became troubled by this and told Steven to pray to the One True God (using the secret hand signs). He said he did, always and replied with the same hand signals. But he was afraid that God would abandon him. I chastised him for thinking such things. But what he said next drove me to extreme sorrow.
And what would God do if I am the anti-Christ?
Twenty Second Entry
We don't have much time.
Steven's Transformation is at hand. His powers grow stronger, and as he becomes stronger he grows all the more closer to becoming arch-demon known as the Destroyer. I stopped getting visits for a while now but Steven, thanks to his resourcefulness, has managed to deliver several secret messages to me in the form of a small impish looking demon. The demon carried each note inside its stomach. This particular letter was especially important and I could still remember my growing anxiety as I tried to make out some of the words in the dim light.
It was in Kluthu'kar. It read:
Father, I pray that you are still alive by the time you get this, if not then it does not matter if they have caught our little messenger or not. By the time you are reading this I would now be in the process of my escape. I am sorry for not consulting this with you but I am afraid the warlocks have always been a step ahead of us. The day they captured us, they created enchantments around me, enchantments that, as they say, are unleashing my powers. Whatever those powers are, they could not be good if the demons want them. I do not know how they plan to do this but from what I've heard they are adding a fourth Hell God (all portents are pointing to me) into their pantheon, one that would challenge the hand of fate itself. And begin their march to some place called the deeper well, wherever that is.
I have no wish to know their plans for me. I have formulated my own escape. I'll explain once we are reunited. There is a high priest here. He knows all the plots and devices they have done to me. Capturing him should be an easy matter. We can talk to him later once all is… done.
Hell God, the letter said. My son! I wish we were in some quiet, gentle town in the new world. I wish that I could give you a life that would not ultimately devour your soul. But how can I? I want to shout at someone. You are unknown and immensely special to this universe and in the end I fear that nothing will be able to stop your destiny… not even yourself.
I sometimes think to myself about what God has created in Steven. Is he the anti-Christ? Is he a second Lucifer? If so, how does my petty need for vengeance fit into the higher scheme of things? Had I somehow escalated a delicate balance between the darkness and the light? And if that is so, then what of my family? What of my children? What of Angelus? What of my wife's screams? What of vengeance? What of the last remaining meanings of my life?
I did not want answers. I didn't want to know the answers. Am I a coward for thinking like that? Am I a monster for ignoring my conscience? I just wish that…. I end of entry, followed by scribbles
Twenty Third Entry
We have escaped. I had almost welcomed the sight of the burning heat after years of lingering in that pit. I must confess that I started to believe I had gone mad at that moment.
We are now running for our dear lives but thanks to Steven and his incredible, new powers we have managed to hold the curs long enough for me to… chat with our prisoner.
The high priest that we have captured was a small, horned demon. Steven had already spoken with it. And now, to better understand our current problems, I too talked to it.
No torture was necessary. It seems that the demon thinks that we were too late to reverse what they had done to my son. It said that they have imprinted (that's the word they used) with certain enchantments designed to harness his powers, powers of a god, powers that could create armies, powers that could destroy. The magicks that Steven has learned from them were nothing compared to when he will, according to the demon, become a god. I immediately began my work extracting information from the demon as to how we could reverse what they had done. I failed. The demon gave us nothing, could give us nothing.
The process was irreversible. In the end, the demon died from the… artwork I had performed. Its last words to me were: "Complete the circle…" I never told Steven this. I don't know why, but I just didn't.
Angelus might kill his son. He might not. I don't know.
I walked up to my son. He was sitting, hugging himself atop a small boulder, looking very much troubled and vulnerable. He was watching for pursuers to come running for us. He was alert and dangerous but also so very young and frail. No one should have to suffer what it is to be him. No one! Sometimes, I think that my heart will burst from my grief for him.
"I am sorry," I muttered. "I only wanted you to learn a way for you to go home."
"This is home," he said without anger in his voice.
"It is not. And you should not let the Kluthu'kar, powerful as they are, tell you what you are." He did not answer, just continued staring aimlessly for any signs of the darkness that has haunted him since before his birth. "We will go to these beast-like demons that you have told me about," I finally said. "Perhaps, we will find allies in them." He said nothing.
I turned around and moved back to camp to make sure we were ready to move.
"I forgive you, Father," I turned around to see a very human figure trembling against a dark outline. "… For everything."
It was in that moment, since I don't know from how long, that I felt whole again.
Twenty Fourth Entry
The barbarian demons were known as the Nog Hototh.
They were little more than savages. They were cannibals that devoured each other and anything that was moving. Their society was as simple and basic as the Kluthu'kar's were mysterious and powerful.
It was providence at work. We needed allies to widen the gap between us and our pursuers. The Nog Hotoths were our potential allies. If we could convince them to follow our cause, then we were already well on our way to freedom. Impressing them would have been a simple matter were it not for a minor complication: Steven. The boy, during my captivity, has apparently led several expeditions against their people on behalf of our former captors. I was told that a dozen Nog Hototh tribes were annihilated because of Steven.
When we first approached our newfound allies, they were torn between fear and murderous rage towards us. They knew who Steven was. They knew of the battle operations he had performed in the name of the Kluthu'kar. My son and I were not on the greatest of speaking terms with our potential allies.
Luckily, Steven knew of their customs and managed to call out to their king. I tried to persuade the brutes to aid us but it was to no avail, for the king refused to help and certainly did not trust us, interlopers. I tried promising vengeance on their oppressors, the Kluthu, but even that would not budge their wretched chieftain. Instead we were caged for our efforts and kept in a pit for two days.
The Nog Hotoths planned to kill us. But once again my son has saved us with his knowledge. The brutes were evidently inspired by single combat. This simple tidbit of knowledge has saved our necks yet again for Steven called out to the barbarian's king and challenged/persuaded him into single combat. To make a long story short: Steven has since then used the king's face as one of his trophies.
By that simple act of ancient settlement, my son has become the barbarian's new king and chieftain. We are in a very good position. We finally had the force of arms we needed to buy us the time to escape.
In addition to Steven's victory, I was given access to the barbarians' shrines. All of which contained texts and scrolls. One particularly took our attention. It was that of a portal to a place called Earth.
Twenty Fifth Entry.
No wonder the warlocks wanted subjugation of the barbarians, they wanted something from their enemies. The brutes possessed knowledge vital to the opening dimensional portals. Unfortunately for the Nog Hototh, constant civil war had extinguished most of their powers, reducing what was left of their once awesome abilities into bits and pieces of religious legend.
Steven, now the new king of the wretched brutes, has promised his subjects vengeance and glory against their oppressors which is another way of saying that he was going to assemble an army to kill the Kluthu'kar expeditionary force that has been sent to recapture us. But in spite of everything, the different clans are now aligned with us and prepared to march against the Kluthu'kar. In truth, we are simply using them to facilitate our escape from the warlocks. If God wills it, the two demonic races will simply kill each other once and for all. And we could well be on our way to getting away amidst the carnage.
That was the plan, of course, until my new discovery of their shrines. Now, it is more complicated than that. Steven thinks that if he can somehow operate the now defunct runes inscribed on the shrines then we may return home. Unfortunately, he told me that it would need a beacon from Earth in order for it to operate properly. It was a dead end. That was all cause for continued attention, of course, but at the moment my attention was drawn to Steven. He has been quiet for quite some time now, more reclused and easily irritated. This is most troubling to me for we both know what it is and yet we do not know what it really is.
While Steven was too busy planning strategy with the Nog Hotoths' warriors. It was up to me to plan a way to cure my son of demonic corruption. I gathered all the shamans of the Nog Hototh barbarians and asked them for their counsel with regards to Steven.
Let me tell you that the thorough observations of the shamans on my son have caused the demonic pagan priests to cry out in terror. They told me that whatever the Kluthu'kar did to Steven, it was not a product of anything external, it was the product of (I now use their words) removing the inhibitions of Steven's powers. They told me that he was somehow turning into a very powerful god. I did care about that. Hell god or not, my son was being ravaged from within. I asked the shamans for a cure.
Even under torture, they said there was none…
The Nog Hotoths were mysteriously losing their shamans. I had to stop torturing the wretches and find a way to reverse the process myself, but how? This question was fortuitously answered by a young apprentice who was recently elevated because his master was found dead and mangled on the edge of his village. I wish to say more about that matter but I am urgently needed elsewhere.
I must return to work for now. I still need to make a suitable alibi on where I was when the Shaman was killed.
Twenty Sixth Entry
Kluthu'kar assassins killed the Shamans, as well as a number of Nog Hotoths warriors who opposed Steven. I never even knew those who were killed. Besides which I was nowhere near them when they died, I've got witnesses who could prove it.
Anyway, the young apprentice I befriended earlier told me of a dangerous spell his predecessors practiced. And though I despise the thought of magicks, I was inclined to accept the possibility of using them for my son's benefit.
Though extremely barbaric, the Nog Hotoths were in possession of several primitive forms of incantations. One of these was the ability to undo memories and creating runic barriers. My newfound ally told me of a very simple solution to Steven's problem: Since the Kluthu'kar unleashed Steven's powers, we would simply put it back in. A simple answer to a vexing riddle, Occam's razor strikes again.
As good as this news may sound, there was, unfortunately, a downside. To remove Steven's affliction, we would have to bury most of his powers - his warlock powers - and in order to do that, we would have to remove most of his memories, the ones especially pertaining to being a warlock.
When I told Steven of what I had found he was completely agreeable to my plans. We were ready for the cure but for one slight complication: A tear in reality appeared on the Nog Hototh shrines. I'd like to say at this point, that I know where the tear leads… and who opened it. We would have entered it without hesitation but it seems the rip in reality would have likely torn us apart. It was highly unstable.
This unusual turn of events presented us with a quandary. Steven was the only one who could solve the stability issue, so we could not cure him yet. However, we must isolate Steven's powers before it becomes too unstable. We have a most troubling predicament on our hands. To solve all our problems, in short: My son must first stabilize the tear in reality then I must remove his memories, after which we must lead the Nog Hotoths against the Kluthu'kars and then jump into a portal that we were guessing was leading to Earth. The task we have was not easy!
Twenty Seventh Entry
The Kluthu'kars have arrived. And they've brought one of their Gods with them. The creatures seemed to create demons out of thin air. I would like to say more about these things but time is of the essence. Just trust me when I say that they are very powerful.
The portal is almost finished but, unfortunately we don't have the luxury of time.
The war that Steven and I have so meticulously planned is now almost underway: It shall buy us the time we need to complete the portal. The poor, primitive Nog Hotoths thought that we were going to use it as a weapon in our war. The truth is, I only want my son freed from the demonic corruption within him and jump into the portal and leave the demons to slaughter each other…
Today, I assembled to inspect my son's army. It was sizable but we were still badly outnumbered.
Steven came up to me and offered a suggestion. It involved the use of his blood to strengthen the barbarian demons. Apparently, infusion of demonic powers is one of his new found talents. I was lost to what he had said so I asked him to explain it to me. The warlocks, he explained tested many things about Steven. One of the things they discovered is that he was, if I may be quite crude, a walking hell dimension, a creature that could create demons, just like the Kluthu'kar gods. Then I realized what was really happening.
I was angry when I asked Steven why he had not told me of this earlier. He said that he was afraid that I might despise him. He said that he hoped that the things done to him by the Kluthu'kar would just fade away. I hugged my son and assured him of my love after which I then hit him on the head for denying the truth! That is, I believe, a flaw in him – denial. He refuses to believe that darkness is very real. I just hope it will not be his undoing.
The Nog Hotoths were assembled for war.
The mindless curs were too dull minded to question Steven's motives. The drops of blood from Nebadon, mixed in a cistern for the demons to drink have empowered our unwitting pawns. Everything was set. The drums of war are sounding for the march of destruction.
Twenty Eight Entry
It was, most likely, three days ago since our last preparations and now the war continues.
The Kluthu'kars and the barbaric demons are slaughtering themselves senselessly even as I write these words down. Steven and I are finally free and yet we are not. I have not forgotten the words of the high priest of the Kluthu'kar: Complete the circle!
Those words are still ringing in my ears. What this could mean for Steven, I do not know. But even as I think of those words I keep having the most uneasy sensations, as if there is something concealed that is immensely beyond my comprehension. I try to remove such thoughts from my mind. Instead, I think of strategies to our present predicaments.
The portal is now completely ready. We had sent a number of lesser demons through it as a test, tiny slug like creatures that drain moisture from the body, and the damned portal did not collapse. This was good but for one more complication: Each time something crosses the portal, it enters a cool down period before it could be functional again, which means that only one may cross at a time. It was already thought best that Steven enters first – it was certainly the most intelligent choice, given his powers and comprehension of such things as dimensions.
Everything is going according to plan. The spell to bind Steven's powers is already being prepared. I have taken care of our one-time ally, the sorcerer/apprentice – He is gone and quiet. Once this spell is done to free Steven of his corruption (regardless if it works or not) we shall enter the portal towards home. It is there that we shall plan the next step of my son's life.
As for me, I already know my fate…
We must hurry though it will only be a matter of time now before the Nog Hotoths discover that we have used them. And once they do, we must be far and away from this hell world forever more.
The battle continues out on the plains of this large warrior city. Steven is at this moment preparing the spell as instructed to him by our late ally. If all goes according to schedule then we should have no problems. Steven will enter first followed by me after the portal has had its cool down. Everything is going smoothly, yes, but I can feel a sense of anxiety for young Steven. The Nog Hototh said that this spell to rid Steven of his corruption has side effects that cause memory loss and mental instability. If so, then our plan is hinging on very thin vicissitudes! Oh God! Help us in our time of peril!
Last Entry
The spell had gone incredibly well and my son is now divested of the foul Kluthu'karan infection… and his own powers… as well as a sizable number of knowledge garnered from them. Unfortunately, he's like a child again. But I prefer a child to a hell god.
But, where planning is perfect, youthful impertinence is a problem. Damn that Boy! Damn his arrogance! I should have known what he was planning! But the little imp is so unpredictable. I told him to wait until the ward that would stun the people on the other end was ready! I suppose it was arrogance. Perhaps, he thought that he could kill Angelus alone. Ah, Youth! I just hope he will still be in one piece once I reach him.
A group of Nog Hotoths found out about us and tried to block our exodus to Earth. We had to fight them off. All but one were killed, the remnant had inadvertently jumped at the same time as Steven. It was at that moment that I was struck by terror, the portal had nearly collapsed. I thank God that it didn't.
The Nog Hototh would have found out that we had betrayed them by now, but then again, it does not matter. They are too late. By the time they realize it, I would have followed my son back home. If it is truly Earth, then I know that my life's work has ended: Angelus shall fall, Steven shall find his rightful place and I shall, perhaps, find the peace and vengeance I have so longed for.
Steven, if you are reading this now. Have no doubt in your mind that I have loved you because I always have. Whatever has happened since our return, whatever darkness or treachery, I beg you to believe that I have loved you. If I have done you wrong in the past, it was because of the circumstances of our whereabouts. If I have wronged you in the future, then please acknowledge the repentance of a sick, old man who was too weak to fight the darkness within him. I love you Steven, my soul and light in the darkest of worlds. Please take my love, for what it is worth, with you as you traverse your path through life.
All that I have done, I did for you, my son. Should Earth corrupt that light from within you, please find your way back to the light as you have done so in infinitely different circumstances before.
You are special Steven. Do not believe what the darkness tells you. Yes, you were born from out of darkness but you are not of the darkness. No, you are the light within the eternal night. You carry with you the banner of heaven in the deepest pits of hell.
I love you Steven… I kept this journal for you… Always for you, my son.
- Daniel Holtz, Darkest of the Dark Worlds
End