The thing pulled itself out of the rift, brushing off the tendrils of shadowstuff that threatened to pull it back to whence it came. The mishapen gnarl of flesh began shaping itself. Slowly, arms, legs, an entire human body was standing naked in the back alley of city unfortunate enough to have this evil. The form shuddered and was suddenly clothed as any ordinary person might be. Walking from its hiding place, the thing went out into the world, learning of its ways, perfecting its disguise. Weeks later, a merchant convoy was being held up. The thieves were about to dispatch the civilians, when one of their lookouts let a bloodcurdling noise from his lips that spoke of unimaginable agony. Terrified, the bandits dropped everything and began running. Everytime one left the sight of the merchants, a spray of blood was seen and the same hellish noise issued from the poor soul's lips. As an eerie quiet settled in, a man covered in blood from head to toe approached the merchants. As one rose to express his thanks for being saved, the man's hand glowed black, and he tore the merchant open as though having claws of a great beast.
“I am not your saviour: I am the butcher come forth from styx. I am wrath incarnate come to visit death upon your lands. I come to bring terror. I come to kill and destroy. I come to feast upon your flesh. I send unrest before me, wield agony in my right hand and leave slaughter in my wake.”
By the time he had finished saying all this, not a soul was alive to atest that he had and the ground was bathed in blood. When travelers found the sight of this horror, the only sign of why it happened were 3 words, painted in blood on the side of a wagon.
“I am Erythnul.”
