The vicious black void snarls in anger at the menacingly sinister nothing while the wind howls in desperation. Anguished cries of sorrowful misery can be heard as invisible onlookers lament the disastrous developments. Nobody looks on in silent disapproval, then chuckles loudly at the utter futility of the unfolding non-event. A second nobody, its featureless nonexistent face expressing unexplainable rage, observes from below, exasperated at its own determined inaction.
"You won this round. Until the next one", the Noling conceded, resiliently accepting defeat. He was bested by the Noid this time. But next time it would be different. Then he departed, leaving the Noid to savor her victory.
Descending into a dark hole, the Noling chuckled, reveling in the predictability of its deception. The Noid believed she had won. She always did. That was the game -- a victory hollowed out before it could ever solidify. This time, she would gloat -- but the unraveling had already begun.
Though he was irritated that, after thousands of years engaged in similar contests, his triumph still seemed a long way off. But he was incredibly patient. Only a few thousand more years more and he would gain control of this realm, an indeterminate level of Hell. Of this he was confident.
Flames blazed, growing more intense as he continued to descend. Upon reaching his pit of despair, the Noling noticed a dark shadow awaiting him, one of his minions.
"A disturbance seeks your audience, my liege", the amorphous shadow whispered, bowing in silent dread.
The Noling reprimanded his subordinate. Why did he not handle this annoyance instead of bothering him with it?
Though it turned out this was a matter that was deserving of his attention.
Potens Magus Tenebris, otherwise known as Haraldus the Arcane Crafter knelt before an iniquitous altar, his shrine to the Noling.
"Hear me, master of misery and woe! I kneel before your altar in supplication. I implore thee, grant me your favor once more!"
A candle flickered out and the fire in the mantle faltered, then roared back to life, the flames crackling and leaping high. A shade coalesced in the corner, its form drifting with an unsettling weightlessness toward the wizard.
Haraldus immediately recognized the being as a avatar of The Noling, a faceless cowled figure, partially pellucid.
"You are one of my most promising makers of mischief and sower of sorrows, but your constant summonings grow tiresome, Haraldus", the Noling avatar remarked, obviously irritated.
Haraldus swallowed hard, his hands beginning to tremble. The spectral presence of his dark master seemed to drink the warmth from the room. He dared not breathe too loudly, lest the annoyance in the Noling's throat manifest into wrath.
"I beg your forgiveness, oh powerful one", Harladus said, apologizing. Then he remembered. "I have an offering for you, oh great Noiling".
The wizard retrieved a small cage from a table nearby. Then he placed it upon the altar and removed a sheet that covered it. A sleepy porcine squonk, disturbed by the loss of its shroud, trembled violently. The air grew heavy with its despair, the dim light seeming to weaken. Its quivering mass of sorrow twitched, yowling in fright.
"Quiet, you!" Haraldus commanded, rapping the cage with his gnarled wizard's staff. He regarded the squonk with disgust. The creature's loose and sloughing skin was covered in hundreds of granular warts which cracked and bled. As well as pustules oozing a sickly gray slime.
"I, Haraldus Potens Magus Tenebris, in an act of mercy, will now put this pathetic creature out of its misery. Though I shall first inflict some more".
The shade indicated its agreement as Haraldus slid his ceremonial murder dagger from its sheath. He quickly stuck it in the squonk's body numerous times, causing green goo to spurt from the wounds. This went on for a while before the creature, howling in pain, expired.
"Normally, this hideous creature would have dissolved into tears. In sheer embarrassment at its grotesque appearance. But this magical cage, which I constructed, prevented such a cowardly escape".
Haraldus straightened, awaiting gasps of awe or words of admiration -- but none came. That was odd. He cleared his throat nervously, his unease growing. The Noling did not seem impressed.
Then, as Haraldus shifted from foot to foot, waiting for a reaction from The Noling avatar, a gurgling escaped the lips of the not yet dead squonk as it finally expired. As Haraldus and the Noling avatar looked on, a ghostly apparition of a squonk materialized and began to gently float toward the ceiling of the wizard's arcane laboratory, possibly ascending to a higher plane of existence.
A deep, wet pull suddenly filled the air, the pressure shifting unnaturally. Haraldus winced as his ears popped. The spectral squonk looked exceedingly distraught as it veered off course, drifting horizontally instead of vertically. Then its succulent soul was siphoned into the Noling's open maw. It disappeared into the dark cowl and was gone.
"I thank thee for the delightful nourishment. The souls of the innocent provide appreciable sustenance. I shall consider granting your request, depending on what it might be".
Haraldus sighed in relief. "Over here", he said, directing the Noling avatar to a nearby workspace.
A shriveled and gray severed humanoid hand with elongated claws lay on the table.
"This is the hand of the demon Mirabile Malum. As legend has it, the severed hand of the renowned shaitan was crafted into the Manus Infortunii, otherwise known as The Hand of Misfortune".
"I came by this exquisite artifact by way of an old Tzigane woman. She suspected what it was, but due to its current condition, was eager to offload it at a very reasonable price".
Haraldus and The Noiling regarded the lifeless hand. The wizard poked it with a finger, as if to prove it was indeed unanimated and would not suddenly spring to life.
Now the Noiling seemed genuinely impressed. "The Manus Infortunii has been thought lost for nigh 200 of your mortal years. This is truly an exceptional discovery".
Haraldus beamed with pride, pleased that his Pater Nefandus was so seemingly thrilled with his discovery.
"According to the Tzigane woman, the hand was deanimated in a magical battle between two extraordinary wizards, one of which wielded the hand. She went on to claim she purchased it at an estate sale held by the clueless relatives of the vanquished wizard. After he collected the hand and fled in terror upon his defeat. It is said that, despite his best efforts, he was never able to revive the hand".
"I shall grant you this blessing", the Noling declared, its voice a whisper curling through the air like smoke. As it rubbed invisible hands together, foul vapors condensed into gnarled talons, which the avatar raised, tracing sinister sigils that shimmered with a malignant glow.
Haraldus felt the surge of dark energy percolating through the space -- an unseen force pressing against his chest.
The hand twitched. The lifeless grayness dwindled, vitality flooding back into the shriveled flesh. Black scales, slick and gleaming, emerged under the pale light of the eternal lanterns hanging from the rafters.
Suddenly, the appendage flipped, blackened nail tips scraping against the tabletop in a skittering motion -- an insectile, unnatural thing. It darted forward, only to slam into the magical barrier Haraldus had placed earlier. A violent recoil, like it had been struck by lightning.
Haraldus watched, transfixed, his pulse quickening. At last. Months of failure, of fruitless toil, and now -- this. He had resurrected the Manus Infortunii. He would record this later in his journals as one of his greatest triumphs, a testament to his perseverance and genius.
Granted, restoring such a powerful relic had required divine intervention, but it was he who had initiated that intervention, the one who had cultivated the necessary relationship with the dark entity. Without his mastery, without his foresight, this moment would never have come to pass.
Now, to find the perfect victim to pawn the hand off onto. He dare not hold onto it too long himself, lest the curse affect him. Then he smiled. As it just so happened, he had been in communication via whisperglass earlier this very week with the perfect dupe.
Haraldus laughed heartily.
The Noiling, who was expecting profound appreciation, was taken aback. "What amuses you, veneficus?"
"I have a fool in mind. A wizard named Inconcinnus Fatuus. I have an appointment to meet with him presently. He wishes to purchase a riftplank I recently restored and will be traveling here to complete the purchase later this week".
"Ah, a victim is already lined up", The Noiling nodded approvingly. "I look forward to observing what transpires. The misfortunes inflicted by the Manus Infortunii are legendary. I doubt I will be disappointed by the mayhem that ensues".
Notation: The Latin phrase "Fabulae de Summis Absurdis" roughly translates to "Tales of the Greatest Absurdities" or "Stories of Supreme Absurdities". "Initium Narrationis" translates as "The Beginning of the Narrative". The text at the top of this post is what I entered at the Microsoft Designer website and which produced the image.
swtd445. absurd-1. Previous. Next.
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