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Hello friends! My name is Timothy Tosscobble, you can call me Tim, and I am a Halfling, and a Warlock to be specific. I am writing this story to create a memoir of all the good times I have had with my friends, and to have a nice place to save new ones. My story begins long before my adventuring days, and is full of saddest, fear and the mental scarring of a very young Halfling.
When I was but 3+3+1 my whole life got turned upside down. It was a very calm day, a slight breeze, mother was baking a lovely meal, and I was outside playing with my siblings. We were catching crickets, my older brother Tom was winning. My younger sister Tara on the other hand not so much, but I helped her as best as I could. As we entered the house something seemed instantly off. It was too quiet, the stove was still on and the food was burning, but deftly quiet. As I tried to talk to Tom, I relized that I couldn't speak no matter how hard I screamed. (I found out later that this was a silence spell) it wasn't until Tara started tugging on my shirt that I saw the blood leading to the basement. We rushed downstairs only to find a grotesque scene in front of us. our mother lay cold on the floor, and strange writings painted in a circle of her own blood on the wall behind her. There 3+1 cloaked figures stood. One of them raised a hand towards us with dagger a bloody finger, still holding our mothers heart in the other hand, and we were quickly surrounded. The other 2 grabbed my brother and sister, and in unison, began a chant followed by a swift dagger to the chest. moments later they were pale as ghosts with not an ounce of life left in them. I screamed in despair as I watched my family taken away from me, but still no sound came.
I pulled as hard as my little arms could, but this last cloaked figure was a monster with unending strength compared to me. As he held me down and began chanting my eyes filled with tears. I began praying to any and all gods that would listen, as the dagger drove itself into my chest. There was no real pain to feel, but I still felt something. I am not sure whether it was the loss of my family, despair, rage, fear or even regret, but I felt as if something was calling to me. As I laid in a growing puddle of blood, I remember seeing a blue green glow and a feeling of weightlessness. The circle painted on the wall had opened, and wherever it lead I was going there. As my body drifted closer to the rift that now resided in our basement, I looked back and saw the figures dancing with glee! My whole life ruined and they were HAPPY! With that being the last thing I saw as I entered the ethereal plain, I used it as a way to focus. For the horrors that I witnessed were too much for any person to bear, let alone a young Halfling. My mind raced with weird aberrations, and the ungodly monstrosities that I passed. I was driven to the point of insanity and forced myself back using those men as my focus, and I kept doing that over and over and over again.
After what seemed like eons of unrelenting madness and torture, I came upon a sunken temple. In it stood a being of unknown origin and power. As I came closer he looked me over with a pair of giant soulless eyes, and with a rather confused look upon his his otherworldly face. After some time he spoke with a tongue that was unfamiliar to me, yet I somehow understood completely.
"You are not like the others... Somehow, you have managed to keep a semblance of sanity." He said with a tentacled maw. He continued to look me over as I waited for a proper time to respond, as I was still trying to make sure this was in fact real and not some image of my own imagination.
"I am feeling generous, and you have peaked my curiosity! From whatever realm you came, I shall send you back, but on two conditions. One: You will serve me and no other, and do my bidding within your realm. Two: you may ONLY tell the truth." Speaking ever so carefully and choosing his words with a certainty that this was not his first deal.
After a moment of thinking, I finally came up with an answer. "YES!" I knew what I was doing was wrong, but given the circumstances, I chose the lesser of two evils.
"Excellent!" said the great old one, showing a smile across his face. He reached a large reptilian hand towards me, extended a finger, and ever so gingerly tapped me. Suddenly my mind was Flooded with ancient and strange writings nearly causing me to lose consciousness, but somehow I managed. "A strange one indeed." said my new master. "Begone! And show those fools what it truly means to worship, Cthulhu!"
And with a twist of his hand I was forced back thru the planes, not feeling nearly as frightened as I once previously was. After mere moments, I felt my body land on cold hard ground. As I got to my feet and looked myself over, making sure that I was all as was before my departure, several cloaked figures stood in awe of me looking rather befuddled. Looking around I was back in my basement, my family lay strewn about like dolls, and the now blood covered cloaked men. As my body filled with rage, looking at these beasts, I felt my body rise slightly into the air. Not like flight, but like I was being lifted. "You are not worthy to worship the name Cthulhu!" I screamed. Like lightening, dark ethereal tentacles erupted from my body, and proceeded to turn these "followers" into what would be considered paste. After several minutes of "paste making" my body fell limp. I then laughed for getting revenge on my family, which turned into full on grieving over the loss of them.
After several hours of crying and finally coming to terms with my new life, I buried my family as best I could and burned the house down for which some of my best years had been. As I walked away, pulling the hood of my cloak over my head (I took one of the cloaks, its not like they were needing them) I pondered what lay ahead of me, and what my master would have of me.
But that is for another story!
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