Tales of Lemuria

PROLOGUE

Back in the days before their soul codes were rectified, the spiders were a wretched and terrifying species. This particular tale is told by a member of an invasive species of plant that was at war with them at the time. And the subject of this tale is a spider named Mawhg, who lived in one of the many wastes of Lemuria. It is to be noted that the spiders of this age were of what would be considered ridiculous proportions in our day, 6 feet in height and covered in chitinous armor. This tank-like body housed a fell predatory intellect, and as a result of this, was painstakingly avoided by the creatures of Gaia. Despite this they were not inherently evil, though some held palaver with demons to be certain. Mawhg was one of such arachnids, spinning webs of foul design both figuratively and literally, whispering and muttering sorceries of blackened intent to ensnare Lemuria’s denizens in chaos. One day after a particularly potent tantrum that Mawhg was prone to in his dark cavern, he made up his mind to destroy himself and as many other Lemurians he could bring with him.

“A curse, a damned curse on them all!” said Mawhg from his churning mandibles and fangs. “I spit on they who would enjoy the light fore me! Trapped in this cavern, feasting on insects and Gromrah, how wretched is this! The twice hexed plant things encroach on my domain, and I have yet to truly savor the sun in all its splendor! I must escape, and kill, and die…But how? Perhaps demon Migren might be enticed to aid me.”

And so Mawhg worked busily for days on end, to summon Migren everything must be precise. One slip up, one rune even slightly out of place and the despondent arachnid would be consumed by hellfire. After calculating every curve and angle in each sigil, and precisely annunciating every syllable required in the foul rite, Mawhg succeeded in summoning Migren.

The already dark cave sank into an abyssal blackness, and whispers tickled the edge of Mawhgs hearing. Despite his evil intent, he was chilled to the very core of his being. The whispers became mutterings, and mutterings devolved into hellish gibbering, until it rose to a crescendo of bloodcurdling screams and howling. Mawhgs vison was suddenly awash in a baleful crimson light as reality was ripped in two before his very eyes.

He caught a glimpse of contorted limbs, razor maws, and seething flesh before the gateway snapped shut and all was ebon gloom once more. Only now…

There was a presence.

Mawhg himself was a terrifying creature, and had instilled fear in many a man, woman, and child. However, he was real, corporeal. He could be fought and slain like any creature of Gaia. What was before him was the stuff of nightmares, an idea. A thoughtform given temporary physicality whose name, Migren, was only a simplification to help call it forward.

Experienced as Mawhg was, he had only ever learned of the demons names and how to summon them. The bulk of his workings were in curses, hexes, manipulation of wills, and elements. His master had failed to tell him that Migren’s true, full name, was far longer than the almost insulting moniker he had told him to use. He learned, but was not helped to understand. Such were the depths of the spider race’s spite, trickery, and hatred, that even from father to son, enmity was second nature as was deception.

“Migren! With these sigils I command thee! Take the flesh of these Gromrah as payment and free me from the depths of this cavern so that I may kill until I am killed!”

Migren’s words then spilled forth, like water over pebbles in a creek, melodious and flowing.

“Speak my true name then, and it shall be so.”

Mawhg paused. “…Your true name?”

A look of horror only an arachnid can produce spread across his many eyes and mandibles, the slow realization of terror creeping forth from his mind.

The idea called Migren formed an approximation of a smile, as best as any a demon thing is able.

And Mawhg knew fear.