Deadsmell sits at the edge of the fire light, his eyes glistening with fervor and madness. His presence is somewhat surprising, as he is not fond of revelry. Before him is a drum, which he begins to beat without a discernible rhythm. With his offhand he casts some type of powder into the fire, which strangely subdues the light, almost as if it casts a darkness, greater than the surrounding night, and the story begins..
“On a night like this, where the blighted moon hides its vile face, we remember and sanctify the purity of nothing. We feel the ancient call to bring about the undoing, to push back the cancer that is light and life. We tell the story of corrupt majesty that is the Faceless Lord.”
Slowly the erratic drum beat intensifies.
“Long before the dawn of man, before the coming of days, before the ancient ones poisoned the purity of the Abyss with their foul presence. Before they plucked mortals from their realms and birthed the ancient demon race, Tanar’ri. Before they sundered the purity of night, there was He Who Slithers, the Unnamable One, Glistener, the Indescribable Darkness. The Faceless Lord alone knows the true purpose of the Abyss.”
“Even now in the gloom that enshrouds his realm, he holds court over the glistening masses, the twitching oozes he sires. He has never emerged from the Slime Pits of Shedaklah to wage war against his enemies, and has, to all outward appearances, remained content to fester in his own filthy domain.”
“But that is not the truth, all of existence is anathema to the Faceless Lord and all will be brought to nothing. All morals, all truths, all philosophical mutterings are but flotsam on the cancer that is life. Let go and find the freedom that is the ultimate truth, know his name, Juiblex, and understand the nothing.”
As the last words are uttered, the fire dies and the camp is flooded in contrast by the light of the stars. The absence of the drum forms a deafening silence, and only the matted grass bears evidence that Deadsmell sat before you.