THIRD DAY OF THE SEVENTH MONTH
I have received a new commission. Today a Machine King Prototype visited my home at seven after eight; I let him in, as I've always trusted machines more than I do the more "fleshy" monsters. It knew enough to make pleasantries before we began to discuss business.
According to the Prototype, Emes the Infinity - a minor player in the Central Shadow Realm's affairs, but rapidly growing in power - had sent an expedition to the Temple of the Kings. I was surprised to hear that the building was still standing after the affair with Serket had ended. Apparently it was, but only in part, a part referred to in the original myths as the Cathedral of Nobles. Rumors used to claim that in ages past, the monsters that built the Temple had sealed a powerful group of Ritual archetypes in the Temple, hiding their ritual within its walls.
The Prototype told me that the rumors were true. Yesterday the expedition returned, an ancient tablet in their possession. (When I asked how the monsters involved in the expedition had fared, the Machine King Prototype turned rather vague. Perhaps I should have taken that as a warning.) None of the machines under Emes's employ could translate what was written upon it; apparently, despite its immense power, Emes the Infinity itself could not make it out. That is why they came to me.
I have worked as a translator for over fifty years now, and flatter myself by thinking I have developed a strong reputation. Thus I was not surprised when the Prototype offered me the commission. I am to translate the tablet's writings and determine whether this is, in fact, the ritual, and if so, which concepts it calls down. I am also supposed to determine the necessary sacrifice - for academic purposes only, of course.
Long ago I abandoned my scruples. I accepted the commission, requesting only an open budget. The Prototype laughed - it would appear machines have finally learned humor - and asked how much ink I could possibly need. As if consultation and transport fees did not exist...
Tomorrow I will receive the tablet. I must confess to an unusual degree of anticipation. Most of my work up to this point has involved only minor artifacts - old books and scrolls from the Zorc Era; the oldest anything has gotten was a brass cup from the Second Dragon War. This will be the first time I have ever translated anything that may precede the Central Shadow Realm itself...
FOURTH DAY OF THE SEVENTH MONTH
Just before lunch today, a Maha Vailo arrived at my home, a carefully wrapped package in his/her/its arms (I have never identified their gender). Once I had signed for it, the Spellcaster fled. No sense of duty, Spellcasters.
Unwrapping the package, I discovered that it was indeed what I thought it was. The tablet was about two feet tall and a foot across, with writing on both sides of it, chiseled into it. It appeared to be made from solid stone, but I could recognize the veins running through it...
I had to take a moment to catch my breath and drink some tea. It is always something of a shock to find something made out of a monster, and this tablet was once part of a Megarock Dragon. After a moment, I returned to my studies.
I am not surprised that the machines were unable to translate it. There are at least eight different languages on this tablet, possibly more that I have yet to make out. Three I am familiar with - Infernus, the native language of all fiends (myself included); Necronic, the language of the Gravekeepers; and the tongue spoken by dragons, Draconic. Two I can recognize, but am unable to speak or read - True Infernus, the language spoken in Dark World, and Ereshkiganal, a language spoken by certain zombies of advanced age. And the other three I have never seen before.
The presence of Necronic would seem to confirm the stories that tie the early Gravekeepers to the Temple of the Kings. However, it is a dialect of Necronic that I have never seen before; perhaps they were very early Gravekeepers indeed.
Once I had identified all the languages I could, I set about studying those I could not. One of them used a script I know well - it is the same script used for Infernus and True Infernus. Perhaps they have the same root. The other scripts I could not recognize, but one of them looks deceptively simple. In fact, it resembles every other language I know to some degree or another. Intriguing...
The last script hurts my eyes to even look at. I have placed tape over those sections of the tablet for now; I will return to them later.
Turning the tablet, I was surprised to see that there was no True Infernus or Infernus on this side. Instead, there was Celestine and Pure Tongue - the language of the Higher Planes and the fairies, respectively. I can speak the latter but not the former. That brings the language count up to ten, six of which I do not understand. The painful script is on this side as well; as with the other side, I have placed tape over those sections so that I can work without pain. I will return to those sections later, as well.
As I always do, I sketched the tablet before proceeding to work. I then attempted to examine the aura traces on it, only to discover that there were none. This did not come as a surprise; the Temple of the Kings was abandoned ages ago, long enough for its own auras to erode.
I began by working on the Infernus sections. As this is my native tongue, second only to Shadow Realm Prime, the work came easily, and within an hour I had covered most of those portions. The resulting script is fragmented, of course, as the Infernus sections are broken up along the tablet's surface; in addition, many of the Infernus fragments are turning out to be magical formulae, which I couldn't understand if I wanted to. I sent what I had to a Apprentice Magician, MC-76H, I often work with. That completed, I ceased my works for now.
FIFTH DAY OF THE SEVENTH MONTH
Last night I dreamt of a shining tower and a burning pit, of seas of blood and of glorious skies. I awoke muttering in a language I had never heard before. I wonder if that is the language of the painful script...
No. Back to work.
The reply from the Apprentice Magician arrived at twenty-two after nine. She said the formuale were standard ritual intonations and questioned what I was working on. It is probably better if I do not tell her.
By sixteen after eleven I completed the Infernus segments of the tablet. All but one of them were intonations for ritual casting. This would apparently confirm that the tablet is a ritual. The questions I am to answer now, of course, are just what the ritual brings forth and what the sacrifice is.
The passage that was not a ritual intonation, I was startled to discover, was part of a warning. "-let them know of the might of darkness and the grasp of the skull face-" After that it turns into the text that hurts to look at. Once again I am struck by the irony of this - even when I translate a passage, odds are about even that I will not be able to comprehend what was written.
With the Infernus passages translated, it came time to work on the Necronic ones. This is what I spent the rest of the day doing, making my way down one side of the tablet.
There is Necronic on both sides, but turning the tablet over, I could see that it is, in fact, the same on either. A suspicion rose, and I checked the Draconic, Ereshkiganal, and unidentified passages. To my surprise, they were completely identical. The only differences were that one side used fiendish languages and one used fairy. I also believe that the painful language is different on either side.
This makes the task much simpler. Once I have translated one side, I need only work on the unique sections of the other to complete the commission. This does raise the question, however, of what such a ritual can summon when both sides are the same but for one section...
Much of the Necronic so far has resulted in more magicial formulae, which I duly copied and sent to MC-76H for simplification. Parts of it, however, have expanded on the warning hinted at by the Infernal passage.
"-may be called upon. But those who cast this ritual are best forsaken, for no mind may contain what it speaks of. They who read this, let them know of the might of darkness and the grasp of the skull face painful script nothing may survive. Land is scarred and field is burned, and ash dances on the winds-"
I can only wonder if Emes the Infinity knew what it was sending the expedition to find. If so, I wonder if it told them what they were getting into.
SIXTH DAY OF THE SEVENTH MONTH
The dream returned last night. The seas of blood boiled as hammer and tongs rang out beyond my sight, and a thousand thousand voices echoed on the glorious skies, singing hymns of offering. The words came to me again, a language I've never heard, and again I woke up speaking them, my body tense and covered in sweat.
For a moment, I hesitated before I returned to the work.
As I worked on the Necronic, turning it to Shadow Realm Prime, a thought came to me, as it always does when I work on languages that are not Infernus. The thought is one that all translators have from time to time - the fear that I have made some vital mistake, that I translated "Quoae" (speak) as "Queae" (vital) or "Quqae" (eat). This is why I work with the aid of a book on the language when I can, but the Gravekeepers have never bothered with such a thing, as they consider Necronic a sacred language.
And to make a mistake on this tablet, my thoughts said to me, could be lethal to this entire world. Eventually I shook off the fear and kept working.
At twenty-two after nine, as it had yesterday, the Apprentice Magician's reply arrived. The formulae were largely ritual intonations, but some of them were part of an Imago, the incantations and chants used to hold a Ritual Monster in its chosen form. Again, she wanted to know what this is that I am working on. I am tempted to tell her, just to see her reaction, but this is not how you maintain a proper working relationship in the Central Shadow Realm. Her task is to simplify the magic I encounter for non-Spellcasters to understand; where it comes from is not her look-out.
The Necronic sections were finished by five after twelve, and I took a moment to read what the results were. Most of them were the ritual and the Imago, as the Apprentice Magician had told me, but much of it was a warning. What confuses me is that most of the warning is the same on either side... except for the passage in Infernus. I have to know why it differs...
This is lunacy. I must maintain order. The next portion to translate will be the sections in Draconic. I have begun to work on them now; this will take some time, as Draconic is a complex language even when spoken. When transliterated into script, it is incredibly dense and requires much time to extricate the meaning from.
Seventeen after ten - The staggering headache I feel at the moment is an infinitesimal price to pay for the insight I have received. As I was translating the Draconic script, I happened to read part of it aloud, in order to straighten it in my head. The Shadow Realm Prime equivalent amounts to, "Eyes open and mind unbound".
For a moment I blacked out, and on regaining awareness my head throbbed with an agony I had not felt since coming down with Dark Snake Syndrome during the last outbreak (how I survived is a mystery to myself and the Forgiving Maidens who cared for me). But as I leaned back over the tablet, I reread the section in the exceedingly simple text, and the knowledge came to me.
I could not recognize it because I had never seen it before. The passages are in Exodian itself, the first of all languages and from which all others emerged. What it is doing on this tablet I cannot figure out.
In the morning I will trace it onto paper and send it to the Library Arcanium, so that one of the language experts can deal with it for me. This is why I requested an unlimited budget. At the moment, however, I must rest. The pain in my head makes thinking nearly impossible.
SEVENTH DAY OF THE SEVENTH MONTH
As I slept, the dreams came, stronger than ever. I saw the seas of blood again, but now I could see a figure standing within them... no, two figures. They were standing on stone pillars in the heart of the sea, chanting in a language I could not comprehend, and the sea churned around them as they joined hands over it. Something... began to rise...
The dream then shifted to the skies, those beautiful skies. Again I could hear the hymn, and far off on the horizon a winged monster stood over a shining ball, singing in a hundred voices. Light broke through the clouds beneath his feet, and it fell on the orb, which shined until my eyes watered.
I awoke speaking the language I do not know, and this time I wrote down the words... But I cannot understand what I have written. My headache has not abated. And only now do I realize I have not eaten since I began my work on the tablet.
As I decided to do last night, I began the day by tracing the Exodian passages and sending them to the Library Arcanium. The thought of the bill gives me pause, but I need only remind myself that I am signing Emes the Infinity's name to it. Such is the cost of this work.
The rest of this day was devoted to translating the Draconic. Much of it is magical formulae, as to be expected from a Ritual tablet - Draconic is the language spellcasters use to record their findings, and was so long before my life began. Again, I have sent these to MC-76H... I wonder how long she will continue to do this before she demands to know what I am working on. Up to now they have been polite requests.
Today I realized how strange the assortment of the words are. The Draconic is contained mostly in the same section as the Necronic and Infernus that contain the magical formulae, as they all contain pieces of it. The languages I cannot understand, meanwhile, are not in that section of the tablet as all - they lie before or after it in their entirety. Presumably there is no way to record magical formulae in them. Instead, they lie with the Necronic and the Infernus in the warning and further up on the tablet.
The Draconic translation is finished, and now I have turned the tablet over. Tomorrow I will work on the Pure Tongue sections; after that, it will be time to confer with my usual contacts. How to deal with the other two languages I cannot recognize is a problem I will have to solve - especially in the matter of the script that causes me pain to look at.
I looked in a mirror shortly after one in the afternoon, and it scared me senseless. My skin has paled and my body turns gaunt, the glasses pressed tight to my face. Seeing this, I forced myself to cook a leek and potato stew and consume it, satisfying a hunger that I had somehow failed to notice the entire time I had worked on the tablet. This work has taken over my life more than I realized.
EIGHTH DAY OF THE SEVENTH MONTH
Last night I did not dream of the glorious skies at all. All of my dreams were focused on the sea of blood and the pillars, and the two figures chanting over it. Both were fiends, but dressed in glorious finery, wearing jeweled crowns and with their hands joined. One was female, tall and painfully thin, with red skin and burning eyes; the other was a muscled male, his skin bone-white and a shovel-ended sword at his side.
As the seas churned, something rose from it... a gigantic figure in armor, a massive axe in his hands and power radiating off of its body. At first its face was hidden, but with a cry of joy the male turned it upwards.
And then he screamed in rage. The face of his creation - his heir - was that of a skull, and pure hatred and destruction flowed in its eyes. Taking his sword, the male cleaved his creation in half, and its body exploded as many powerful fiends will.
But something lived on...
As I awoke, my head throbbed in pain, greater than ever before, and once again I spoke the language I do not know. Once again I wrote the words down, and they differed from the words I had said when I awoke the day before. What these words mean will likely shock me.
Twenty-two after nine came and passed, and I received two letters in the mail. One was a message from MC-76H, translating the magical formula I had encountered. After she had finished that, she had once more asked what I was working on - and this time, I see, it is a demand. I wrote her a reply stating that it was business she did not need to concern herself with and sent it back. I have my doubts this will please her.
The other was a letter from Emes the Infinity himself, asking me when results could be expected. My response was to send some of what I have already translated. That is a problem with working for machines - they do not seem to understand pacing.
After cleaning myself up from the sweat-drenched state I awoke in, I began to work on the Pure Tongue segments of the tablet. What, exactly, I did during that time escapes me, no matter how hard I try to recapture it for this diary. It fades into a mess of scribbling and retracing. All I know is that, on first glance, I had anticipated spending two to three days on this section. I completed it in five hours.
The pain relievers I took for my headache this morning fail to work, even now. My brain feels like it will rip in two, but I must ignore this.
The Pure Tongue contained a warning, just as the Infernus had on the other side, but the words were different: "-may be called upon. But those who cast this ritual are best forsaken, for no mind may contain what it speaks of. They who read this, let them fear the empty eyes and the agony in the beautiful touch, in the hand that holds the scepter painful script all is lost when the battle begins. Two blows rain down in the space of one-"
I am now beginning to suspect that the painful script conceals the names of the beings that this ritual summons. However, I am at a loss as to how to translate it.
In the evening, I took the words I spoke after each of my dreams and sat down with my dictionaries, attempting to trace them to any language I know. It does not match any single language I can find. Even the few traces of Eldest Draconian I know of do not match it to any degree. It may be a language not spoken by any species in the Shadow Realm, but how can that be possible?
NINTH DAY OF THE SEVENTH MONTH
Last night I dreamt of the Higher Plane; the sea of blood did not appear. The winged man appeared again, singing hymns of praise and offering in a hundred voices, and light broke through the clouds and bathed a shining ball which sat at his feet. It began to glow, and then to open, and slowly it took form. The man descended, a joyful smile on his face, and held out a hand.
The orb took the form of a female, a beautiful woman in a red dress with blonde hair, but as she took the man's hand he recoiled. Her eyes... they were empty. With a cry of pain, he set his hands on her head and sent a burning light through her body.
In a moment, she was reduced to ashes, but something lived on...
It was then that I awoke, speaking the words I could not understand. My bedclothes were soaked through, and my head feels like a Drillago has struck it. I had to change the sheets before anything else. Once again, I recorded the words, and this time I am beginning to see a truth behind them - what I write is the words of the painful script, transliterated into Shadow Realm Prime. This may be why they do not make sense... Some languages are powerless when translated into another.
Even though the pain behind my eyes is worse than ever, I managed to force myself to have breakfast before I did anything else. I then took stock of the situation - my studies are largely focused on the "primary" Shadow Realm languages, such as Infernus and Terran, the Rock language. I cannot understand Ereshkiganal, Celestine, or True Infernus, and I cannot even identify one of the other languages - I doubt anyone would be able to understand the painful script. My time for working on the tablet has ceased; it was time to call upon other specialists.
At twenty-two after nine, the mail came, and I accepted it. MC-76H had sent me a letter, warning me to back away from the project if it grew too much for me - as if something like that could result from a mere translation project. I am not a mage; I merely unravel other languages on commission.
Another letter came from Emes the Infinity, praising me for my work thus far and offering me as much time as needed. This is a great relief; the next phase will take several days.
Pulling tracing paper over the tablet, I carefully traced out the languages I could identify but not understand - the True Infernus first, and then the Ereshkiganal. With both done, I then turned the tablet over and copied the Celestine as well. These papers I sent, along with letters of explanation and billing details, to a pair of other Kozakys and a White Magician Pikeru I have dealt with in the past, each specialists in one of the languages.
Until I receive repies, I cannot work any further on this tablet. After the letters were sent, I took a moment to assess my progress thus far.
Usually, it takes me about a day to translate the most basic of assignments - say, perhaps, a statue from the Time of Zorc with an inscription in Infernal. A larger project, mayhap a scroll predating the first Ebikyo Drakmord outbreak, would take a week. This tablet, by all rights, should have taken a month at the least.
But only six days have passed since I received the tablet, and already I have finished most of it. Something about it has driven me to work endlessly, without so much as a break for meals. From the moment I wake to the moment I sleep, I work to translate the tablet. It is almost... almost as if it wants me to translate it. As if...
My blood runs cold. This is a Ritual tablet.
What if it wishes to be summoned?
(The writing grows illegable here. Following it, ink stains cover the adjacent page.)
TWELFTH DAY OF THE SEVENTH MONTH
I know the truth now. I know what concepts are tied to this tablet, and how they were tied to the aether. The Exodian and Celestine translations arrived yesterday, and this morning brought with it the True Infernus and Ereshkiganal translations.
I had refused to so much as look at the tablet for two days. Fleeing the apartment, I took up residence in a friend's home, the apartment of a Spear Cretin with the number SC-331H. He accepted my presence, though not without some distaste - I have not showered since I began work on the tablet. For two days I cowered in his home, recovering my willpower. The project had overwhelmed me.
Today I returned to the apartment and picked up my mail, the translations included. (The bills were included as well, but I merely signed Emes the Infinity's name and number to them before dropping them in the "outgoing" box.) Opening the envelopes, I read what was written there - first the cover letters and then the words of the tablet itself.
All of the cover letters were uniform - warning me that the tablet bore dark power beyond what I had worked with in the past and advising that I give up on it. I have come this far, however, and stopping would only be admitting defeat. I tore the cover letters apart and scattered them into the trash bin.
By combining my previous work - the Infernus, Pure Tongue, Necronic and Draconic translations - with these new translations, I can now understand almost the whole of the tablet's inscriptions. Only the painful script and the last of the languages remain. The tablet is written in a slightly poetic style, but I have no patience for this and shall give the story straight.
And it is a story I know very well. Every night for six straight nights I dreamed part of it...
In aeons past, before the Central Shadow Realm rose from the chaos of the shadows, the Terrorking Archfiend and his consort, the Infernalqueen Archfiend, combined their powers and attempted to call forth an heir from the very substance of Dark World. But their powers were tainted by that same substance, and what they created was a cruel, amoral beast of a fiend, the skull-faced creature I saw in my dreams. They were horrified, and dubbed it Demise, King of Armageddon in their horror. The Terrorking then turned his powers on the creature and obliterated it.
At the same time, in the Higher Plane, Shinato the King of the Higher Plane sought to create a mate for himself, a fairy with which to rule the Higher Plane alongside. He attempted to shape the powers of the Higher Plane itself into this creation, and drew all his power into the task. But his hand fumbled, and chaos infused his work. What he created was a beautiful female, but one without any trace of a soul. He had created a wicked creature with no thoughts other than destruction. In his disgust, he named her Ruin, Queen of Oblivion, before purging her from existence.
But the chaos in these two creations would not allow their deaths. Their essences survived the loss of their bodies, and they lingered on, drifting into the aether that encircles the Shadow Realm. Now they are as ritual monsters.
I now know what this Ritual summons. The side in Celestine can call forth Ruin, and the side in True Infernus can call down Demise. All that is left to complete this work is the language I cannot read, along with the script that hurts me in the reading. I am certain that this is the price of the ritual.
No matter what stands in my way, I will finish this translation, if only to get this damned tablet out of my life... Maybe then I can abandon this hideous headache. The pain makes me want to weep blood.
THIRTEENTH DAY OF THE SEVENTH MONTH
The work is done. My head no longer hurts. I can read the language I could not before. I can even read the painful script without harm. Gods damn me.
Last night as I slept, my head throbbing and about to burst, two voices spoke to me. They spoke in the language I speak every morning as I awaken, and at first I could not understand them. But as they spoke, the words resonated in my head, and soon I realized that bit by bit they I could make out what they said...
"Little one," they said, "you have almost freed us. Your mind is on the verge of accepting what it sees, but you must let us open it further. All the way..."
All I could think of was the pain, and thus I could not refuse. I accepted.
When I awoke, my head no longer hurt. As if under a Brain Control, I stumbled to the tablet and looked over its words, ripping the tape from the painful script. And as they had said, I could understand... And then I knew.
The language I could not read was a language no monster had seen since before the Shadow Realm itself came into being. It was the language of purest darkness, the language of Exodia Necross itself. It was Chthonian, the language of evil. What hurt my eyes was the language in its purest form, and what I could not read was its diluted form, which I had spoken. And as I had thought, they were the price of performing the ritual.
"Those with the power in eighths... the beings that were created and destroyed in the same breath had such power. Only those with power in eighths, or eight fragments, may be used to power this. Any more shall tear the threads of this magic, and any less is below the contempt of the lowliest. Pay the eighths..."
In days past, a monster's Level was described in terms of fractions. Level Ones were said to have so little power that it needed no division, while Level Sevens had to divide their power into seven parts to bear it. What the ritual demands is exactly eight levels worth of monsters.
Out of curiosity, I reread what I had spoken on awakening over the past two weeks. It was as I expected - hymns of praise and offering to Demise and Ruin. The concepts...
The concepts are using me...
(The last page of this entry is incomprehensible - the words are written in another language, and are written one on top of another, making it impossible to even determine which language.)
SEVENTEENTH DAY OF THE SEVENTH MONTH
What I am about to do makes my stomach churn, but it must be done. I write this entry only to make it clear to myself that I must do it.
I have spent the last three days in a stupor, a fogged state in which I could not even tell where I was. I could only watch as I wandered through the Central Shadow Realm, blindly hunting after... something. Even now I do not know what it was.
And as I wandered in that state, I could hear myself chanting over and over again, chanting hymns of praise, calling to the sky itself. The concepts had taken me, and now I was their servant.
It was only when I saw the knife glinting in my hand that I realized what was happening. And then I rebelled. No way was I going to make a sacrifice to them!
With all of the will that I could muster, I threw myself against their control. It held firm, and so I threw myself at it again, and then again. Each strike against it was like forcing myself to press up against a wall of knives, but I continued my effort. I refused to give in, to let them use me as their conduit back into the Shadow Realm.
In the end, my efforts were not in vain. The control loosened, and then cracked, before finally snapping clean. I could hear a laugh in my head even as the world came into full focus, and then I was again master of my own body. I was standing in the Level Four Spellcaster Living Quarters, surrounded by gaping monsters.
Seconds after regaining control, I discarded the knife and rushed into a magic and trap store, purchasing a Remove Brainwashing cube. It is strapped to my waist as I write this. Even as I write, however, I can hear it sputtering. Its power is almost out.
The tablet is no longer here. I know my powers are not enough to destroy it - it is so ancient and its concepts so powerful that I question whether even Exodia himself could destroy it. Once I returned to the apartment, I wrapped it up again in the wrapping surrounding it when it had arrived at my apartment, and then sealed it tightly in tape. I shoved that into a waterproof bag, sealing it with several locks and closing the opening with lead. I would not allow it to open by accident.
The Sea Serpent Warrior of Darkness I hired just left, taking it with him. He has orders to carry the tablet into the Aqua, Fish and Sea Serpent Living Quarters, swim to the very bottom, and hide it in the farthest corner of the deepest cave. There it will remain, to be forgotten by all sane creatures.
As for myself, I will not allow them to use me again. I will not retrieve it for them, and by no means will I summon them. Emes will be disappointed, but I will not let him call such foul creatures to the Shadow Realm. Even he could not control them. I have made one final purchase - an Inferno Tempest cube. It currently sits in my left hand. Where I got it from I will not say.
When I have finished writing this entry, I will press the trigger. It will burn this building to the ground, and my life will end with it. I regret that so many will die with me, but this requires desperate measures.
The translations sit on my lap - when I burn, so will they, taking all the work I did for Ruin and Demise with me. Even if I cannot assure they will never be summoned, they will lose a serious amount of time with my death.
This journal will survive, I am afraid - its covers are fireproof and protect the pages. If you read this, you know why the fire started. What you do with this knowledge is yours to determine. If you act on it, you go in warned. That is more than I ever had.
That is all. I will now die a free man.
(The rest of the pages are blank.)