Session 22 - Marcus' Journal

Carter explained the argument with Frank, kill Donovan or not, it made no difference anymore, to Frank however, it made all the difference in the world, the plane ride back to France would be cold and most likely, unexpectedly bumpy.

We spoke to Donovan regarding his man, Walter, a man like that might prove useful if the need arose for another gun hand in a tight spot.  He is a mercenary after all, money was no issue.

We parted ways from Donovan, we would call him in the morning to make sure he was in fact leaving this place.  He had no business here anymore.  We made our way back to the hotel, calling Frank on our arrival to arrange our departure for the next day back to Marseilles.  As the morning sun rose, Carter was already checking in with Donovan, also asking about Walter coming with us.  Insisting on meeting our employer, we declined, offering to call him when the need arose, then we may discuss further the terms of his employment.

The plane departed mid-morning, like we expected, Frank wasn’t concerned about giving us a smooth ride, still frustrated at our unwillingness to end Donovan.  As expected, there were cars waiting for us, driving directly to the homestead in Nice.

Janet was waiting, again dressed her best, she ushered the four of us inside, much to Carter’s enjoyment, the liquor cabinet was fully stocked, even I partook in my old friend, Tequila.  I started the conversation with Janet, explaining the events of Malta, she seemed less concerned with what happened to Donovan, she seemed genuinely worried about the possibility of leaving children to fend for themselves, the sentiment we shared when making the decision.  I continued to elaborate on the next and hopefully final phase of what we had to do.  Mt Kailesh, where it all spawns from, where it will hopefully end.  Almost relieved at the news, she asked our timeframe, all of us agreeing we needed a few days to collect ourselves and prepare.

Tom decided that we needed a specialist, taking his leave and spending much of the next few days in Paris, speaking to experts on Tibet and mountaineering, Will did a similar thing, investigating his old archaeological notes and texts for any insights into the mountain ranges spanning the country.  I don’t know what Carter did with his time, my only conclusion was that he was picking his scabby stump and drinking as much as possible.  For a man so dependable when it came to times of action, his down time was so consumed with alcohol.  With everything we had been through, it was hard to blame him.

I spent my time doing the one thing I really did not want to even think about.  Purchasing everything required for what was burned into the back of my mind regarding the conversation in the Yucatan, snakes, symbols, rituals.  If this was where this beast lived, our only hope was to summon one of our own.  I also spent as much time as possible memorising my quarters.  Every inch of it, for the spell I had picked up earlier requiring the intimate knowledge of a space in order to create a jump to it, the fastest way to get us out of danger if we found ourselves at the mercy of our enemies.

The plan was simple, we were going to fly over Tibet and land in India, the only country with a decent airport.  First off, we would circle the mountain and locate our objective, Will and I had both insisted in order to try and spy a crack or crevasse that would indicate a point of entry.  Then our climb would begin.

The flight was rough over the mountains, looking around the plane, Will was excited, gazing out the window with wide eyes.  Tom and Carter however had their own coping mechanisms, Carter, whisky, Tom, opium.  Both of them sitting in the back, their heads rolling in large circles as the plane rocked.

Landing in India, again we were met by a distorted landscape, English colonialism mixed with a thriving native culture.  The city itself seemed to be a mix of huts, slums and large buildings all mixed together.  Our reservation was for the Imperial Hotel, in the heart of Delhi, the drive there was slow and congested amongst the narrow roadways and dirt paths that moves like serpents in between buildings and tents alike.

Will was the first man recognised in the area, a small yet polite Frenchman approached him with an outstretched hand, Will introducing him to us as Pierre, a man he had met in Paris who had a certain desire for adventure and exploration, supposedly having climbed the mountains of Tibet previously.

Once we were inside the hotel, Pierre produced maps of the area, along with a list of stops and encampments along the way.  The main point of interest to us, Mt Kailesh was sacred, a place of worship, thousands made pilgrimages to it every year, however no one was permitted to climb it.  Carter pressed him for more information, Pierre had never been to Mt Kailesh himself, we still needed a guide, not only someone to take us there, but to take us up.

We went over all of our belongings upstairs in our rooms.  We hadn’t packed much, just clothing for India, the mountain was covered in snow, however Pierre had already arranged a few stops along the way to redress ourselves the colder it got. 

I spent the next day going over the rituals I had learned, clearing the sky, teleporting us back to a safe place, all the while reading, a few loose books had always managed to find their way into my bag.  Again, Seven Masks, something that I had been pouring over for a while now, the many faces and compelling stories through history, a truly fascinating read.  Another book I had not yet read, Azathoth and Other Horrors.  Another strange text, written by a child of 18, Edward Pickman Derby.  Hailed as a truly brilliant scholar, his works surround many short stories regarding an entity known as Azathoth, an unknown entity seemingly in another dimension.  All of these works however were prefaced with being based on the lunacy and legendry of Arkham, a known Sanitorium in Massachusetts. Scribbled throughout the book however were hand written notes comparing it to another text I had not read, Justin Geoffrey’s People of the Monolith.

While puzzling, this text must have been in here for some reason, it scratched at the back of my mind, frustration that I had picked up and taken a book with absolutely no relevance to the task at hand.

Pierre woke us all to begin our journey, the first leg, a drive for a day to a place known as Mahendranagar.  This was as far as we could go via vehicle, Pierre arranging mules for the rest of the trip that was to take at least two weeks return.  Still nervous about our current guide, we sent Pierre to work in the town, searching for someone willing to take us up the mountain. Around midnight, I heard a knock on our doors, Pierre had news, he had found a man willing to take us up the mountain, he seemed concerned about money.  The four of us followed Pierre around the block to a small bar, busy for the time of night, in the far corner, a truly foul smelling man, his breath and clothes soaked in alcohol, Panu Singh, our guide.  Tom and Carter stood over him, allaying his concerns about money and grabbing the open bottle on the table he sat at, both downing large mouthfuls themselves.  He agreed to be our guide after another small bout of drinking, we were to meet him here in the morning, enough time for him to prepare.  None of us were holding our breath, we had seen drunkards do some amazing things, but this was almost ridiculous.

Sleeping in tents, we woke to find Singh already waiting, his own mule loaded to bursting.  From the sound the saddle bags made, glass bottles were the most prolific item.

The road was hard and long, every step, the weather seemed to get colder.  During our march, we stopped at several small villages, buying warmer and warmer clothing the closer we got to the mountain ranges of Tibet.  Pilgrims were constant, some coming, some going, we did our best to blend with the crowds.

The last main town plotted on our map was Burang, the final staging area before heading to the mountains.  We stayed for the night, we had at least one more days march before we reached the base of Mt Kailesh, from there, we had no idea how long it would take.  The following day, we reached Lake Mamsarovar, another popular place of pilgrimage.  We watches as many pilgrims drank and bathed in the clear, blue water, the clearest I had ever seen. I could not resist, I smelt of mould and odour, I disrobed and waded into the water, although not the makings of God, there was something here, something calming about these waters.  As I turned, Will was doing the same, never a man to miss the chance to partake in local events, as if he was writing an adventure book on his exploits with us.

Coming to a halt at the base of Mt Kailesh, a small settlement known as Darchen, resembling two large buildings and a small littering of shacks, the buildings operating as shelter for pilgrims to sleep in, the shacks, small supply shops for food and clothing.  Sitting down with Singh and Pierre, we decided first to circle the mountain on the pilgrim trails, scouting as best we could, ways off the path and the begin our climb without being detected.

Our walk was going to take the day, we began early, arriving back at the town of Darchen approximately eight hours later.  At the half way point, there was a path, untraveled, but clear.  That was our plan, make our way there and disappear.

Four hours into our next morning walk, we waited for what seemed like an eternity for the pilgrims who constantly circled the mountain to leave enough space for us to make a break for it, one at a time.  After an hour of what seemed to be a game of hide and seek, we were all safely hidden from anyone who cared to look in our direction.  Our climb started now, emphasising on safe travel rather than speed, we knew we had to be smooth, once we reached the top of the mountain, we knew the elements would take hold, even though speed was not our focus, it was always on our minds.

It was a three day climb to the top, Carter disgruntled at the cold, Tom spraining his ankle, Will visibly turning blue, we had reached the summit.

There was nothing left to do, looking to the heavens, I knew what must be done, I had to clear the sky.  Instructing everyone to watch a section of the mountain, I fell to my knees atop its highest point and began reciting the words and drawing the symbols stuck in my brain into the snow and dirt.  The icy wind was biting, even with the ice forming around my exposed face and lips, I continued the spell.  My mind wandered, the darkness came, had I fallen asleep? Was I freezing to death?

I woke to see Carter, Will and Tom all standing over me, my Yak skin clothes open, my chest exposed, looking to the sky, the stars, something had changed, I had seen these stars before, but they were not the stars I had seen every night of my life.  Looking around me, steam was rising from my body, I felt hot, sweating, what had happened?

Will pointed to a small drop from where we were, a crack had opened, a large gash in the mountain, a strange mist emanating from it.  As I got to my feet, Carter insisted I use him for support.  He told me of what had transpired.  I had gone into a trance, my body getting hotter, Carter had tried to interrupt me but recoiled when he felt my skin was warm, not only that, my skin was glowing, something ethereal and luminous under the skin.  Without warning a gigantic bolt of light emitted from me, straight into the sky, the clouds parted, the stars changed and I fell to the ground.  What had I done? Was this possible?

The mountain trembled, as if a quake was taking place, sending Carter falling from the ledge, coming to rest at the entrance to the cave.  Pierre and Singh were still in disbelief at what they had seen, standing as far from me as possible.  The mist that had formed from the cavern, a dense orange mist, a nectar mist.  This was it.  This was the entrance.

We reminded Singh that we were paying him through the nose, he was going in first. Inside was a small ledge, about a food wide, wide enough for us to enter carrying only what was essential.  We dropped flares down the ravine that lay before us only to reveal a depth that seemed to have no bottom.  As we watched the flares fall, another ledge, about 50 meters down appeared.  Tying off roped, we began our descent.  Singh first, then me, Will, Tom and Carter, Pierre to remain at the top, securing the line.  Tom however letting out a groan, his arm sliced open from the curious shaped rocks that littered the walls.  Upon closer inspection, these rocks, were not rocks at all, rather identical crystallin formations that littered the walls.

Again, no bottom, only thicker haze, we all covered our mouths and noses with our furs, not wanting to breathe it in.  Another ledge appearing below us in the light of the falling flares.  Again we moved down, this time Singh, Carter, Me, Tom and Will.  As I reached the ledge below, Carter was sitting down his legs dangling, biting his lip and clutching his thigh, he refused to scream as he bounced off a wall during his climb, breaking his leg.   How were we to continue, tying a fur around his leg, bolstered by the tight knotting of a piece of rope, he pressed on.  More flares fell, another ledge, then, a distance down, the flare stopped falling, we were nearly there.  Singh again began his rappel down, as he descended, screams and shouts echoed from beneath us, followed quickly by the rope going slack.  We called to him, only nothing answered.  I was next, rope in one hand, flare in the other, as I neared the ledge, the rope swinging, the arc of the flare light casting its orange light around me.  A mouth, the size of a doorway, on the stone surface of the wall opposite me, blood still flowing from its teeth, its tongue lashing at me as I narrowly avoided it.  I called up to the others that there were mouths on the walls, looking around further, there was not only one, but they were everywhere.  We were truly in the heart of this mountain.  Dropping the flare as the other began to climb down carefully, there were no more ledges, nothing at all, just a wide-open space, a pit of nothingness.  As if we had come straight down the mountain’s throat for dinner, and were looking at its stomach, not wanting to fall in.

The four of us stood on the ledge, all wondering the same thing, how were we going to get out of here?

Carter and I spoke softly, explaining that I was still exhausted from what had transpired atop the peak, he would have to be the one to bring our unworldly ally.  I was to remain in reserve, saving my energy for the spell we may require to teleport ourselves out of here in a hurry.

Carter began saying the words as I took the snakes from my pack, it didn’t take long before he was completely taken over by it.  As I looked at him, his eyes were rolling back into his skull.  As I watched and listened to his words, something stirred in me, in the back of my mind, something driving me, my mouth began to move, the words carter had been saying starting to emit from mine also.

I could not stop myself, my eyes were open, my mind was racing, I could see everything I was doing, watching Carter begin to force a snake down his throat, something we were both adverse to, seemed like second nature, as if he had been doing it for years.  Within moments, my eyes were rolling yet I could still see somehow, watching my hand take a snake and begin eating.  Watching carter, he began carving into his flesh, the symbols of the ritual, passing the knife to me, I was doing the same, watching in horror as I carved at my arm and chest.  On the walls in front of me, the sight of cast shadows depicting the scene of ancient warriors, Mayans, worshipping the obelisks and pillars we had seen in the Yucatan, sacrificing eachother.  As I continued to look on in horror at what both Carter and I were doing, the words kept flowing, I could sense that we were nearly finished, as the final words spilled from our lips, we both fell to the floor of the ledge, Will and Tom both gripping us to make sure we didn’t fall off.  The final words, the name, Gol-Goroth.

My eyes still working, yet my body finished, immovable and unresponsive, I could see what was coming, above our heads, entering the chasm, a dark swirling void, like storm clouds circling, only entering the chasm and descending upon us.  In the centre of the swirling mass, the familiar sight of the large, black, toad like entity.  Passing us, paying us no mind as it continued its descent down into the pit below.

Below us, vast noises and screams, thunder crashing and devastating sounds of intense violence.

Silence, a strange calm filled the air, a warm light snapping my body back to action, I rose slowly to feet despite the constant trembling and shaking of the mountain.  My mouth still agape, screaming with no sound, rocks and pillars falling from above.  As I watched them fall, they seemed to slow down, time seemed to jolt, a few moments longer, everything stopped, the falling rocks were motionless in the air, as if made from air themselves, hanging and floating, drops of nectar hung in front of my eyes, as if floating like balloons tied to an invisible string.

A thunder clap struck all ears, a deep and somber voice ringing in my head, as clear as day, a familiar voice.  “The Pretender is vanquished”.  Looking down I could see him, Gol-Goroth, the large toad levitating amidst the cavern.  Another thunder clap, this time, the toad swirling into itself, slowly vanishing into a spec of light before disappearing from sight and into nothingness.

Carter looked at me through eyes soaked with blood, as I did him, our shock and horror shining through as a second voice echoes through the cave.  “Turn your empty visage upon this rock, then. The human thing's sacrifice is complete.”  The voice echoing from the depths.

As these words echoed in my head, my eyes closed, I was blacking out.

I awoke to Will and Tom sitting in silence over Carter and me.  They seemed relieved when we woke.  How were we going to get out?

We began are long and dangerous climb up the ropes, taking several minutes, Carter was the worst, his leg clearly causing him agony.  Some hours later, with the help of Tom and Will, we emerged to the frozen surface of the mountain, Pierre had vanished, there was only the four of us.  I looked to the sky, something was wrong, the stars were still the same, the foreign formations burning brightly in the sky.  In the distance, what looked like the northern lights started forming, only completely wrong, their haze appearing as a sickly green, moving of its own accord across the sky.  Rain began to fall, only this was not rain, it was lighter, grey and black.  Upon closer inspection, this was not rain at all, there were no clouds, yet something was falling from the sky.  This was not rain, this was ash.

What have we done?