The Host’s Survivor
A Survivor’s Tale of Encountering the Host
It can be understandable why people are put off with studying death and undeath. It can be a dark and depressing subject seeing how both planar forces and even mortals among us warp flesh like hollow puppet strings or to subjugate the soul of another. It is why I have a great respect for what Reaper's do. Souls don't deserve to be tormented by outsiders. They belong to their respective deity or afterlife. My magistrate within the Doctrine Society, Neurovek, showed me a poor... thing... who reinforced this belief.
To Malkan Nemrex, Mentor of the Society,
My wyrmblood friend, a rare occurrence has shown itself to me! A survivor who claims to be a victim of being in the domain of the Nameless Host. Come quickly to my study!
Once there, Neurovek unveiled to me a woman. Of what lineage she was could not be accurately traced. Her features were smothered and blotted with flesh warped as if someone had smudged charcoal across it. Even her mouth was melded and had to be cut with a massive hole just to be able to eat. The poor thing's breathing was raspy and labored despite sitting all day under my magistrate's intensive care. The smell... Gods that smell was pungent with decay. She may as well have been sickened by her own existence.
The pale vren stepped up, kneeling by her, "What do you recall?" He gently whispered.
"No..." she muffled, "Let me be happy and free!" She shook her head about.
I held up my draconic hands, "It's alright. You're safe here. Just let us know what happened. We want to be sure it never happens again."
Her eyes that had seen too much stared past Neurovek, "I remember... the Fell! I was lost in the woods surrounded by all this suffering. I remember crying out louder and louder, begging for the pain to stop," her eyes winced at the next coming thought, "That's when It came."
"Describe it for us," Neurovek insisted, "We're experts in our field as occultists. If we know what we're working against, we can fight it better."
Her arms creaked like an old rocking chair as she folded her arms to comfort herself, "It was nothing. Just pure emptiness. It took not just the pain away but everything from me! I then wandered a decrepit forest full of abominations twisted by that thing! Even at nightfall of this place, there were also spirits that drained what little soul I had if I didn't have a light. But the light also meant attracting the wretches as well! Gods... why me? Why let me go?"
"It's alright," I soothed, "You're free now. What do you remember when you got out?"
She sighed, "I... just ran deep in the woods... toward the brightest light I could see. I kept running but crawled when my legs gave way. I never felt so much hope when I felt actual warm sunlight. It made me realize how numbed I was back there."
Neurovek squinted, his hands stroked his chin inquisitively, "Do you recall who you are or even your name?"
She shook her head, "I don't... I don't know who I was!"
My heart sunk as I looked to the vren, "Please tell me we'll get Temerity involved. This poor thing has endured enough."
He nodded in agreement, "I was thinking the same thing. Her specialty with celestials should mean some insider knowledge on how to restore hope for this one, or at least, provide comfort as we fix up her condition."
By the late evening just as I had neared packing my things, I caught back up with Neurovek. I was curious, as he is the head of studying undeath in the society, what he has dabbled in prior. He sat behind a desk, looking at a book.
"Sir, I was wondering if you have ever... dealt with... the Nameless Host. Have you?" I nervously inquired.
His eyes looked down as he sighed, "The most I have done is seen the aftermath of those who have tried making pacts and agreements with It. They forget that they imbue themselves power that derives from It. Should they go against the wishes of a creature with no sense of honor, no sense of creed, or conduct, Gods, even morality, the trap of that bestowed power kills the recipient, turning the fool into a hollow undead creature."
"I understand, sir," I assured him as he got anxious thinking about it, "I imagine we will have to deal with this Host someday, after all."
He slowly looked up at me, dread in his eyes, "One day but only if we have to. That thing must never win. Demons and celestials want to oversee the growth of what they rule. Undead rulers at least want a dominion to be over. But this Host? There will be nothing."
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