Urgoth the Defiler

"Prepare the brew!" Ned shouted from beneath an oversize black cloak. Vials, urns, bottles and bags full of noxious ingredients from the dark corners of the earth occupied the tables of the inn's smallest room, the Gnome Special.

"Preparing the brew!" Hobnob shouted back, stirring a medium-sized cauldron full of a putrid liquid. He stopped stirring to bend down and light the cluster of wood underneath the cauldron. The only thing more powerful, in both arcane as well as nasal terms, than a putrid liquid is a warm putrid liquid, as Hobnob lit a fire underneath the cauldron.

"Is the putrid liquid ready?" Ned asked, from his position on the opposite side of the Seal of Darkness.

"Almost the perfect temperature," Hobnob said, sticking his warty nose over the cauldron and inhaling a heady whiff into his massive nostrils. The potion smelled so foul that it scorched the tiny hairs in Hobnob's nose and all he could detect was burning hair.

A few minutes passed. "Hows about now?" Ned asked, a little less enthusiastically.

"Still needs a minute. Needs to congeal a bit more. It should have the fine, chunky texture of roadside mud."

A few more minutes passed. "Now?" Ned asked hopefully.

"You are the most impatient necromancer I've ever met," Hobnob said. "For someone who deals with the cold embrace of eternity on a daily basis, you certainly can't deal with fifteen minutes, can you?" After only a moment, Hobnob stopped stirring, and pulled the spoon out of the mixture. Only the handle remained intact, the rest of the wood had dissolved into the goo.

"Whoops," Hobnob said. "What are we going to use to ladle it out with?"

"Just use all of it," Ned said.

"Are you kidding? You're only supposed to use a tiny vialful of the potion to penetrate the Veil of Ages."

"But this is a big Seal of Darkness. And we want to delve deep into the Ageless and Twisted Realms, don't we?"

Hobnob remained unconvinced. "But what if it doesn't work? I don't want to hear you whining again."

"I promise I won't whine if it doesn't work," Ned lied.

Hobnob looked at his friend, then shrugged. "You raise a point about the level of Esoteric Horrors that we want to peer into" Hobnob said, "so long as you keep your promise." The goblin overturned the cauldron in the direction of the Seal of Darkness.

The thick brown liquid bubbled and poured, slowly oozing across the floor until it reached the outline of crushed obsidian that formed the Seal of Darkness. When it touched the stone, the outline on the floor suddenly lit up, as if on fire. A growing scream filled the room, echoing off the bedroom's walls. Ned worried that the scream of Horrors Unimaginable from the Dimension of Infinite Torment might wake the other people in the inn, but then the roof of the inn tore off and he worried more about that.

The clouds above them turned a grayish purple, and blood began to fall as rain. Where the blood fell, tiny flaming pentagrams burned for a moment, leaving patches of ash. The screaming continued, and green lightning crackled across the sky. Ned and Hobnob were dancing between the burning blood-drops when a fork of lightning destroyed the inn. They were thrown into the air and landed on the ashy ground a good distance away from the smoking hulk of the inn.

"I wonder if they're going to make us pay to replace the furniture in our room," Ned asked.

"Ow! This blood-rain hurts! Can't you do something about this?" Hobnob asked.

"Not really, no."

"Why not? Aren't you a necromancer?"

"Well, I kind of lied about that," Ned said, a little sheepishly. Nearby, a tree turned into a tower of human excrement and tumbled to the ground.

"What?" Hobnob said.

"I kinda sorta only took Necromancy 101."

"You only completed one course in necromancy?!"

"No...I took one course in necromancy. I dropped out halfway through."

The clouds began to spiral, and in the center of a spiral a blackness developed. Bones with ragged flesh still clinging to them poured out of the spiral, creating an ever-growing pile next to the ruined inn.

"Then where did you find this spell?!"

"Um, Another 51 Things To Do With Eternal Soul-Flayers. It had some very impressive reviews on the cover! Hey! Look! Urgoth the Defiler!"

Hobnob looked where Ned pointed. Sure enough, sitting atop the pile of gory bones was Urgoth. The best way to describe Urgoth is [this section of the original copy was destroyed due to the unrelenting horror and pain inherent in Urgoth's description. Even the single period contained such utter desolation of the soul that the punctuation self-destructed.]

Urgoth didn't make a sound so much as a psychic nothingness, a nothingness that through its draining of all that is good and right from the very fabric of the universe, induced the following thoughts in Ned's head: "The universe will not die by my hand, but I will instead preserve it for all eternity so that unrelenting torment and despair will be your constant companions. Give up your hope and happiness now for your ruin will be complete and everlasting. But to effect even further destruction and torture on your fractured mind, I will permit you to ask a single question of me, that I may break your spirit further and more completely by revealing the utter lack of meaning in your life."

And in the encroaching Void produced by Urgoth's presence, Ned's thoughts coalesced just enough for a slight disturbance in the universal fabric to be made, such that they formed the following thought in Urgoth's mind:

"Is this rash on my weiner herpes or just rugburn?"

Urgoth let out a groan of pain. The void retracted, and the universe shuddered. For all eternity, for all places and times, Everything ceased. Beyond nothing, beyond null, beyond Void, beyond ALL!



Then the world returned, but a world in which Urgoth had not just ceased to existed, but had never existed and who could not even be imagined to exist.

The wind whispered through the trees. Hobnob and Ned sat on the soft grass and watched the flow of traffic around the inn. The pair achieved something that warlords, wizards, and the gods themselves from times immemorial had failed to do: summon Urgoth the Defiler. These two had done so by the power of Ned's curiosity about the sexually transmitted disease that he had contracted the month before.

"Really?" asked Ned. "That's not just rugburn? Well, shit."

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