The Call of Ctholera

There was once a female elf ( a dark elf at that ! ), trained in the art of sword play, by a mother well versed in the use of large weapons(!). Her mother, however, was unable to impart any knowledge of the human civilizations far to the West beyond the boundaries of the elven kingdom. So upon encountering her first 'man' she was captured after but a short battle. Then having been stretched upon the rack, her story comes to a temporary end. I am pleased, therefore, to be able to present to you part one of an account by Dr. Hugh the eminent psychiatrist, who on departing this world entrusted me with these manuscripts.

he nightmare started the night I found the book in a dusty, disused corner of the library. 'The Economican by R.Kelly' was embossed in gold upon the spine, tarnished now, through age and the mildew creeping across the ancient leather binding. Leather which looked and felt like no other I have seen before.

This book introduced me to a whole new world of terror and mystery; and led me down the slippery path to where I presently am, a gibbering wreck locked in a padded cell. Tonight I will end it all and escape into the Great and Only where none of the terror of Ctholera can haunt me, I hope. I will entrust my story to paper in the hope that it will warn others from the destructive path I have traveled.

As I said before the book introduced me to terrifying secrets which slowly unhinged my mind, but my quest for knowledge overrode this minor barrier. My friends, bar one, started to shun me as my nocturnal habits and ghoulish nature became predominate in my psyche as I delved deeper and deeper.

My one friend, who did not desert me was James Hunter, a weak person who just dabbled in the mythos but was too scared to go further. He was one of those people who have an ingratiating character and attach themselves to you like a leech; and then you cannot rid yourself of them.

One night I persuaded him to accompany me on a quest for knowledge, for which I needed a spare person. We traveled all day to reach the gloomy, rat infested graveyard.

Moisture dripped off the strands of lichen hanging to the ancient, gnarled yews. Which reminded one, so much of the childhood horrors of ghouls and witches who fed on the dead and the young.

We searched for a certain tomb, which would make my research complete. Threading our way through the stones and brushing off the lichen which clutched like fingers to our necks. Then the tomb reared before us. A Gothic monstrosity, with glaring gargoyles and fallen angels adorned about its stark granite sides. I produced a key (it had cost me dearly) and opened the rusting gate, which screeched in the tradition of haunted houses. A stone coffin lay upon a plinth in the centre of the dark, dusty interior. I recited, in a long forgotten tongue, the incantation carved in the stone of the coffin lid

"Ph'nghii mglw'nafh Ctholera P'riory wgah'naglflhtagn."

In the crypts of Priory, Ctholera lies dead and dreaming.

This was the right place, my goal. Quickly we pushed the lid off the top and it smashed to the floor with a crash which could wake the dead. Inside, leading down to the darkness, led a flight of slime encrusted steps. Last used hundreds of years before by priests of Ctholera in their bloody rituals.

We then set up our equipment, the recording machine, which via a field telephone link, we would record our every move. "You go first James" I said, virtually pushing him down the narrow opening. I had to go last to carry the telephone!

Down we descended into the depths, down and down. How many steps is beyond the capabilities of my mortal memory. But we eventually reached the bottom. An enormous cavern, so immense our torches were useless to penetrate the Stygian blackness it produced. In the centre lay the altar, where I would receive the power of the Elder gods. James approached the altar with trepidation, then collapsed into a heap as I hit him with the telephone. I arranged him on the altar and drew out the sacrificial dagger.

About this time I was aware that the interference on the telephone was making recording impossible. So I laid it aside and went on with the ceremony. A ceremony which would fulfill my two aims. Ultimate power and being able to rid myself of James.

Then I heard a sound, a sound which has never been out of my hearing to this day. A bestial yell of such spine chilling terror, that my blood turned to ice.

The Call of Ctholera itself.

Footsteps approached through the blackness, if you could call them footsteps. An irregular, sloshing sound, which echoed throughout the cavern and made the very stones vibrate.

Trying to conceal my terror from myself, I quickly ran through the ceremony and plunged my knife into James's breast and sipped from the flowing life force.

Then the sounds stopped and I heard nothing, nothing at all. I slowly turned and shone my torch into the blackness. And that is where I finally lost my sanity. For illuminated by my torch was an immense figure, 30 feet tall, many flexible rubbery tentacles ending in iron shod claws. Mouths erupted from all over the torso, mouthing gibberish. A multitude of stumps upon which was supported its monstrous body, bodily organs could be seen pulsing through the slimy skin. Then I saw the face, a face so horrific I cannot start to describe it. Accompanying this apparition was music, evil music, primordial and ancient 60's music. I lost my mind and just lay there gibbering as it approached me.

It extended its talons towards me to rend and tear. To end it all. But before they reached me, they lifted up the telephone and its mouths started to talk. They talked as if it was difficult to arrange the human tongue. Vocal chords which preferred speaking on a different plane of existence.

"In Britain today nine out of ten telephones are in working order and we're working on the other one !!"

The End.
for now!