Ethereal Tear and Other Insidious Items [KW#4]

[† Anras Rune]

Well I decided to try something I'm generally not good at, first person! Was sick of Seventh sanctum until it churned out the little beauty that is Ethereal Tear which fit perfectly with my idea from before. The characters I'm using are pretty obvious, and hopefully there will be a inebriated individual for the entire second half and a possible plot romance.

Anyhoo, enjoy!

First page of the letter discovered in Wyrfrad Manor's Cellar. It was found amongst a small pool of blood and a fallen bookcase.

Ever get that feeling on the edge of the abyss, that the world would be a better, simpler place if you just jumped? That tingle on the back of you skull that you need to itch but can't seem to reach no matter how much you scratch? Well that is me as I write my account of what happened that faithful winter's day. But first, before the clarity of my mind fades once again and the tear takes shape again, I must explain the reason I failed. The reason I'm writing this in amongst my own blood and faeces with salty tears streaming down my face. I don't pity myself, far from it. In fact I'm proud that despite my fruitless efforts I'll be the first to witness the power in its truest of forms. That unholy light permeating through my very fibres tugging at the last remanents of my sanity. The voices beckon me, but I must finish this task! I shall try to continue this account as I begin my final descent down that infernal stairway. Those between realms rejoice, for you have won!

Before this all began I was a clerk in a bank, reaching the last stages of my life in blissful ignorance to my fate. I had been married twice and with almost 6 grandchildren I was content to live out my last couple of decades in peace, bathing my grandchildren in praise and promise. Despite my quite high position in the banking trade I had long lost my touch, often being called Mr. Oldschool by the younger more ambitious interns. They mocked me and my apparently plodding nature openly but I truely could not care. I had passed my prime and knew it. My boss was also a dear friend, godfather too my two sons and daughter. He and I had been thick as thieves since childhood, but there came the day when he asked for my resignation and gave me an early retirement. This is where things began to change.

I remember that last walk out of the bank, with my meager office belongings piled into a small sturdy carboard box. The jeers of some younger interns made my skin crawl, but my friend had asked me to retire so they could get some new blood. He was apparently being forced to retire as well. No matter, I thought, this just means I can start golfing earlier. How wrong I was. When my second wife got wind of my forced retirement she supported me but mentioned now was the time to move out to the family estate permanently. I glady agreed to her idea and set myself to purpose with zeal. Within the week we had moved to our family's estate, a modest manor out in the Welsh country-side with now neighbours around other than sheep and deer. It was the beginning of our glorious twilight years where our hobbies became true passions and our grandchildren became creatures without fault.

It wasn't til the onset of our first winter that my nightmare began. Elizabeth, my dearest wife, had come down with a serious case of pnemonia. In the following weeks her condition worsened until the unimaginable happened and I was left to brave my final decades without her by my side. Grief stricken I began to turn inwards upon myself shunning family and friends, turning to ever darker ways of amusement. I feel, that in retrospect, that this is when my grasp on reality began to slip. Within my manor's old library that I discovered the tomes that would lead me to my ultimate doom, great leather opuscules on the nature of man and his spiritual other. The subject intrigued me not just cause of the circumstances, but also the ramifications my actions could create or at least, what my inward self loathing could create. With great care I plied my way through these opuses of arcane nature rewriting snippets of information I did not understand and scraps of ineligible information so that I might find their true meaning. My search for a lexicon on the same subject were in vain so I decided to journey into the nearest town and search their libraries.

When the snow had died down somewhat I decided now would be the time to venture into town in search of my much needed lexcion. The syntax in some of the tomes was so foreign to me that at times I felt the cure would be worse than the condition. But this determination in me had built up to a freverant pitch, driving me to search on despite the nagging sensation at the back of my neck. After hours of searching throught the old dusty shelves I began to discover what I wanted, and even better what I needed. Amongst the lexicons there was a small, innocuous manuscript that seemed to call to me. The cover itself molded to my hand as if fate had guided it towards me with the promise of forbidden knowledge. And what knowledge! The books name was the Ethereal Tear and Other Insidious Items, a title that would scare off the weak of mind no doubt. But my addiction to this occult knowledge strove to plunge me past my better judgement, despite the sensation of rising bile in my stomach, and buy the book. How this decision would determine my life the weeks to follow would be lost on me at that time and only now do I realise that feeling wasn't morbid curiousity but the luring nature of an object that was better left undisturbed. My life had begun its final spiral and now all it needed was passengers to share the journey.

The second page of the letter was found outside the manor's library, partially burnt from the fire. Due to this the first paragraph has been lost but the last part is mostly whole. Pieces of what appeared to be a third page were found but had detriorated beyond recognition.

...done it! It had been an ardous search, but I managed to procure the supplies I needed. That coupled with the best possible acquisition I could've hoped to make, a willing host. My two new assistants shared my passion, my addiction to the book. I had become transfixed by these pages that's words seemed to dance in my head willing me to do things I never thought I could do. But by God the Items it described! Object of inexplicable nature or origin that boggled the mind and warped the constants of our world. The Altar, the Astral Nexus, the Broken Key... things that no human should find. But it was the titular Ethereal Tear that truely beckoned to me. The stories of its power had been amongst our world's greatest stories since time immemorial. Jesus... Mo-......even Was-.....many had used this Tear to possess the minds of the populace, making them seem close to God. Everything was up for grabs if I could just touch it... imagine the po-.....the ne-...prophet. My new assisstants believed that it summon it we need a sacrifice but I had been reading the tomes. Blood had to be spilled yes, but not death. Not yet. It was my younger assisstant the helped me to this conclusion. Her name was Lyndsay, a beautiful young girl with firey red hair and even hotter temper. She said she was from Ireland, but I was skeptical due to her lack of accent. She did drink like an Irishman however, swallowing a great deal of my wine collection in a matter of days and raiding my brandy cupboard on the odd occasion. Despite her state of constant inebriation she was a feverent worker and truely a believer in this eldritch power. Her demeanour clashed with my other helper however, a man by the name of Richard. He seemed to be infirm and always came down with colds. Lyndsay told me that he used to be a streetwalker and that the ailment most likely came from his profession. But no matter as he worked well and seemed to be almost as driven as me but for different motives. So we set to work, opening the Manor's cellar and the small cave it had been built on. The spiral staircase leading down had been a problem at first but after some quick repairs we had reached the bottom, to small room where we would rendezvous with fate in the coming days. But-......the rest has been smoked black by the fires and is most likely lost

Edited September 22, 2012 by Emotional Outlet