Nozgoth

pretty good idea tbh

ooOOoooOOooo I worship obscure demons and peacock gods from obscure middle eastern mythology OooOOoooooOOooooo look at me look at me!

FREE MY HOMIE DROCK

[!] A letter, addressed to who? (This letter is intended for a specific demographic, however I do not mind if people assume knowledge of it IRP.) “Are you the root of it all? The great evil who has befell this place?” HUNTING GROUNDS To embrace God is to embrace All. You cannot create without destroying something else. You would know this if you truly served the red hand of Ylk’mesh. For today, we serve His hand. No longer do we listen, and worship His ears, nor do we ponder, and worship His mind, nor do we preach, and worship His mouth. I think we all know deep down that the duality is paradoxical. That nothing is created from what we destroy. “Eternity.” My brethren, The time grows near. There are many who know of our deeds. A deal has been stricken with the Omen Prince, and we are to aid in his design. The place once known as Du Loc is a dilapidated shell of what once was and what could be. It is a reminder of the sin that plagues us. What is your favorite flavor? Man? Elf? Dwarf? They are all there. You know of our purpose, of what I am calling you to do. By the eye of the wretch, I hereby initiate a feast. The sheep have grown fat and many. The flock must be culled. We need no excuse. “No more hiding. I want to see… the Palebeasts - outside their skin.” ~ The Red Hand of Ylk’mesh

An ordinary seeming man poured over the profane text. Each movement of his was slow, calculated - almost too perfect and precise. He seemed young, but his eyes said otherwise, they told many tales. A great many religious symbols hung down from his dull green robes. Beaded necklaces of varying shape and size were strewn across his garment and they all bore the Lorraine cross as a pendant. Something disturbed him deeply about the text, and what followed was awfully peculiar. He ripped out one of the pages, and scrawled into it a great illustration, and then he placed it back into the book. After standing up and spinning around three times, a satisfied look came over his face and he placed the book deep beneath one of his floorboards.

I. Priest and Cleric, Beast and Heretic, They preach and prance, And dance with God, All the same. One says: “Hallowed be thy name.” And the other says, All which is profane, Yet they preach and prance, And dance with God, All the same. The Beast says: “How could this be?” And the Priest prays, Beneath the chestnut tree. But they cannot truly meet God, For in their stark dichotomy, They have become duality, And God is not duality. II. Take a moment to really see, Our lives are hid in reverie, I mean this not as cliche poetry, For I truly mean reality. Look around, Pry open your eyes, See that you’re not time abound, Hear the song that has no sound. You’re quickly running out of time, Think until you’ve lost your mind, You cannot see until you’re blind, The sign, Ponder deeply the sign. You are marching off toward the end, Do you feel your soul as it ascends? I feel it.

@Rilathdoes this mean you're finally gonna hop on another track with me