When cut down, injury manifested itself upon the original. Until, by chance or lapse of concentration, one of his copies came out. But as quickly as they did so, more copies took their place, so that no progress seemed possible. Enraged by my denial, my ancestor shimmered and split, like an image seen through a rotating prism, and where once there was only he, now there were four.Įmpowered by the eldritch he might have been, but my ancestor was still no man of violence, and the heroes were not overly taxed hewing through his copies. Well, I didn't slog all this way, and sacrifice all these people, just to throw in the towel here. His apparition appeared multiple times, explaining how his delvings had uncovered a horrible truth, and it stripped away his humanity and made him herald of the apocalyptic ur-creature. My ancestor, whose mailed suicide letter had brought us all here and set these events in motion. Imagine my surprise when they were confronted by the Narrator. But the path lay ahead, and onward they sallied. Time, space, light, and dark seemed to have no meaning here. Stepping upon it seemed to make the world dissolve away, and all was bathed in some sort of unnatural luminescence.
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