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Pentakotic Gateway, Part II.

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  • mmorrell1
    Beyond the Pentakotic Gateway, in the nameless, un-created universe, eternal night wraps the kingdom of Gheanna in sinister darkness. The terrain is hilly and
    Message 1 of 1 , Jul 16, 2002
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      Beyond the Pentakotic Gateway, in the nameless, un-created universe,
      eternal night wraps the kingdom of Gheanna in sinister darkness. The
      terrain is hilly and jagged; no sun or stars shine in the sky, and
      the ground is a kind of black, glazed crust liken unto volcanic
      stone. Without warning the ground can fall away, huge chunks of
      ground, mountains, hills, miles in width, plunging into the abyss.
      No place is safe in Gheanna, not its creosol surface, not its liquid
      black sky, nor its flaming seas that wave and surge chaotically and
      irregularly in whichever direction. If it is not the ground tearing
      apart and devouring the mental traveler, it is the knife-wielding
      reptilians roaming the outer void in murderous bands, attacking
      hapless dreamers; or it is the air itself, ripping and being ripped
      by light-blue lightening bolts. Here the earth is alive. It is an
      organism; nay, a beast that rumbles and quakes, eking green sulpheric
      gasses.

      I am told that the elements--earth, wind, fire and water--cannot
      exist on the spiritual planes, that Gheanna is a spiritual
      impossibility. Yet I was there in spirit and in spirit I bore
      witness to this elemental kingdom, indeed traveled a portal into its
      belly; the portal spiraled as it dove down through empty space into
      the bowels of the Original Universe, which encompasses Gheanna in a
      queer, hyper-dimensional matrix. When I arrived, I was greeted by my
      friend Mostaffa Hannif, the Philosopher of the Deep, who is known
      here as the Mad Arab who dances above flaming pillars. Because the
      reptilians think he is insane they leave him be.

      Miles from his hovel is a the dilapidated Temple of Heliopolis. I
      say a matter of miles, but it could be hundreds or thousands since
      time and space are strangely woven and so closely connected that they
      are liken unto flat surfaces which mirror each other, making
      everything seem both very far and very close. From Mostaffa's cave I
      gazed at the ritual bon fires burning bright in the court yard of the
      Temple of Heliopolis, and in a red haze saw their naked reptilian
      figures move and twist to frantic drum beats and to chanting evil
      hordes and to other chaotic, diabolic melodies that surge and crest
      creating spectual colors in the sky. On the horizon looms Ahriman's
      monstrous astral body. Never once have I seen him move. He is
      forever still, and eternal, for he sees all.

      Torture has become a trade of the highest respect among the heathen
      priest class and is practiced with timely car and patience in order
      to achieve the maximum degree of pain and suffering against the
      victims. All night I heard their screams. I was in Mostaffa's cave
      as he was on a pilgrimage, and his absence troubled me to a great
      extent. I hoped he we would return, for I was much of afraid that
      the orgy of violence in the temple would spill over onto the streets,
      up into the hills, and that the heathens would capture me and inflict
      un-told acts of horror upon me. Of the tortures I have seen them
      inflict upon human travelers include surgically supplanting their
      astral bodies into trees. Every now and then I happened across these
      half-human, half-tree creatures; one time while exploring the
      floating forests of Nib and Quatztum, I saw their gray, sorrowful
      faces exuding from tree trunks and their barren lifeless boughs
      moving like flayling arms and legs in the noxious wind. May God give
      them rest!

      Thankfully, the reptilians did not approach the cave. In fact,
      they've never once, in all my journeys to Gheanna, attacked me or
      molested me; and that they haven't, gives me pause for reflection.
      Mostaffa thinks that the Ahriman's are studying me, to see how I
      live, how I think and feel in my earth life, in order that they may
      understand my psychological composition, and therefore won't kill
      me. I agreed. They have become common visitors in my life, and not
      just the idiotic, brainless Moogogs, but the pre-historic, genuinely
      intelligent Gray alien species that travel eons in deathly silence at
      the bottom of the Great Void.

      "Sit in peace, they will not harm you," says Mostaffa Hannif,
      Philosopher of the Deep. "To them you are a laboratory rat. Eat,
      drink and spin your wheel."
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