About Kryng Undor Mah-Fut
Even in the most brightly lit cities there are streets thickly covered in shadows. Beyond the gaze of the church steeple, elusive to the grasp of the city watch there is a place where the shadows grow darkest. A place where secrets are kept, gold is shared in unseen hands and death travels on sweet tongues and whispers. Although not all shadows turn away visitors some refuse to let them go.
Down a cobblestone path, away from the merchants of the Five Points market laid one such shadow on the doors of a quiet little home. Inside the hearth was warmed by a burning fireplace, the floors covered in lavishly patterned rugs. Finely detailed, almost life-like, paintings hang against the walls in gold trimmed frames. The rooms, fully furnished in elegance, remained empty except for one, locked away behind a heavy oak door. The room, in much contrast to the rest of the home, was in great disarray. Abstract paintings strewn in all directions the odor of paint and herbs heavy in the air. Dimly lit by a single candle on a large table a figure worked feverishly over scattered papers and alchemy tools.
A thin, frail man spoke quickly and quietly to himself answering questions spoken to the empty air. In his youth his hair had been wild, a bright emerald green but now lay neatly oiled back and darkened with age in the style of a respectable businessman. His hands shook violently as he poured and mixed vials of strange liquids spilling enough of the contents to earn a harsh cursing.
A noise from beneath the floorboards, real or imagined he could no longer determine, startled the small and aging man. Glancing into a reflective disc he saw looking back at him the dull green eyes of his gnome heritage reminding himself that he was alone. A second, more pronounced knock came from the boards again followed shortly by a third and then fourth. Bending over the work table he clenched the papers in his fists and cried out “there's no one there, Mason. It's all in your head, there's no one there.” Tears began to sting his eyes. Wiping the watery blur away he looked again into the disc. He jumped and turned around as he fell to the floor, the reflected image no longer revealing himself but a figure more monstrous.
“Come now Mason, why do you always look so surprised when you see us” called the deep, smooth voice from the empty air. Staggering to his feet the gnome, Mason, searched the table frantically for the drought he had prepared. Tears filling his eyes and fear swelling in his heart he found the mixture missing from the table where it had been placed. “Why do you fear us so?” echoed the formless voice.
Refusing to believe the voice in his head he looked back into the reflective disc. “NO! I am not you! We are nothing alike” he shrieked at the image. A sharp toothed grin met him. The points of its ears the only remaining resemblance of what may have once been recognized as a gnome. The mouth grew much wider than it should, the nose appearing to have been gnawed or torn away by clawed fingers. No hair covered the naked muscular body and in the reflected candle light the eyes flashed white as if blinded by milky cataracts.
“But we are Mason. Both you and I are one and the same. We are the same flesh, the same blood and the same spirit. The only difference is you have hidden in your cage, afraid of what you might achieve in the darkness where I am the king of my own destiny. I eat. I drink. I hunt, oh how I hunt. I can smell life fleeing from a fresh corpse and the taste is indescribable. But you know all that already, you have seen it from behind my eyes and tasted the reward of a fresh kill yourself.”
The gnome roared in retaliation,“no! You are a monster. We are nothing alike. You were a mistake, and belong buried in the earth like the monster you are!” The figure in the reflective disc laughed cruelly, echoing over and over again. Watching the form more clearly the gnome turned from anger back to undeniable fear as he saw the potion held within the mirrored form's hand. “Stop, that is not what you think it is! It is poison, it will kill us both!”
“No Mason,” spoke the monster, “you have grown weak and in your fear I guided your hands and made the last drought you will ever need. Let us drink deep, and awaken your full potential... My... full potential.” And with one swift motion the monstrosity of a gnome drank the potion and dropping its container laughing out of the reflection into the still room as Mason lay on cold earth, muscles contracting painfully as his eyes rolled into unconsciousness. The darkness of the shadows engulfed the house as the sun set its final time for the gnome artisan named Mason, and for the first time moonlight reached the pale skin of a creature with no name as fresh air filled the lungs of a small ghoul-like man never before witnessed within the Five Points, and rarely seen since without the following cries of death and murder.
