192 lines
11 KiB
Plaintext
192 lines
11 KiB
Plaintext
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_______________________________________________________________________________
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_ _ _ _
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((___)) ((___))
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[ x x ] cDc communications [ x x ]
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\ / presents... \ /
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(` ') (` ')
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(U) (U)
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THE NAMELESS PASTURE
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Scribed by The Raver, Teller of Strange Legends
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>>> A CULT Publication......1988 <<<
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-cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-
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_______________________________________________________________________________
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The tales of the Bovine mythos cycle are strange and diverse. Although
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some of our terrible order's members prefer to scribe tales of present day
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Bovinity, I opt for tales of a dark and terrible past, a time when the Bovine
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stalked the earth unheeded by mankind.
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"...The wailings of the mad are but the birth-cries of
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the new man - the old man gone like dust in the desert
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wind. Cleansed of the lies of mankind, the new man -
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the man of darkness - is free to absorb the beauty of
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nothingness, to glory in the stark night of the utter
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void. As your useless reason dissolves, rejoice in the
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knowledge that others in as diverse places as Texas and
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North Carolina have walked the same path, have drunk
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the same blood, have reveled in the same prospect of
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everlasting night, as you..."
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-- Keeper of the Bovine Gate
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'Tis true, we are evil in our potent writings and scriptures of the Cow.
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But this is only for a reason. The following passage describes this point very
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well. Much better than I could, indeed.
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"...You do not yet know the true gods. Everything you
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know is a lie. The Great Bovine Ones - these are the
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true rulers of the Universe; these and others you have
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not yet heard of will be the objects of your adulation,
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your emotion, your love. You are the fortunate ones -
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the time may come, if you give your selfless devotion,
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that you will worship in the flesh in the Temples of
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the Nameless Pasture, whose glory is beyond your
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comprehension."
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-- Catechism of the High Priests of the Bovine
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The following tale is a true one and depicts the place that many Cultees
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desire to be... the dreaded Nameless Pasture, where Bob-Sothoth rules supreme
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and the blood of thousands runs rampant through the stalks of Cow-Bane. This
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tale is not for the faint of heart. Nay. You have been forewarned.
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===============================================================================
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In a distant land, in a distant time, the mad arab, Abdul Alhazred, began
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a horrific journey into the Roba El Kaliyeh ("Empty Space"), the vast desert of
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southern Arabia. The time was AD 715 and Alhazred was quite mad. After
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traversing the ruins of Babylon and the strange subterranean catacombs beneath
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the archaic ruins of Memphis who would not be? Alhazred, in his demented mind,
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thought that the vast desert would allow him the peace and tranquility that he
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so desperately needed. Unfortunately, this was not to be...
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As Alhazred traversed the shifting sands, his mind wandered back to the
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days when he was but a simple cow herdsman. All was well, until that day...
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the day that he heard a cow utter the following phrase in an ancient tongue:
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"Ia! Ia! Bob-Sothoth fhtagn! Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Bob-Sothoth wgha-nagl
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fhtaga!" Ever since that time seventeen years ago Alhazred had not been the
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same. He had afterwards began a vast quest to discover why the cows he had
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herded had talked and exactly who and what Bob-Sothoth is... or was. Alhazred
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began his quest almost a score of years ago and felt that he was close to the
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ultimate answer. During his nights with the cows those years past he had heard
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their urgent mooings. What did they mean? Were the cows possessed of daemons?
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What in the hell was going on?
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As Alhazred continued his bizarre cycle of thought he noticed not the
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paved stones peeking up at him from the sand below his sandled feet. Only when
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he tripped on a large crack did he notice the fragmented pavement beneath him.
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"What?" thought Alhazred. A road in the middle of a vast expanse of desert?
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Filled with curiosity Alhazred decided it best to follow the ancient road.
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Soon darkness overtook the world and day became night.
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As the moon climbed higher in the sky he began to see that the slopes of
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desert began to rise. Urged by an impulse which he could definitely not
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analyze, Alhazred scrambled with difficulty up the dunes... Upon reaching the
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top of the tremendous circle of dunes he stood silently, gazing into the
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stygian depths where no light had yet penetrated.
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All at once his attention was captured by a vast and singular object on
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the opposite slope, which rose steeply about a hundred yards ahead of him; an
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object that gleamed brightly in the newly bestowed rays of the ascending moon.
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He assured himself that it was merely a piece of gigantic stone; but he was
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conscious of an instinct impression that its contour and position were not
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altogether the work of Nature. A closer scrutiny filled him with sensations
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he could not express; for despite its enormous magnitude, and its position in
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an abyss which had yawned in the middle of a vast desert since the world was
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young, he perceived beyond a doubt that the strange object was a well-shaped
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monolith whose massive bulk had known the workmanship and perhaps the worship
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of living and thinking creatures.
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Dazed and frightened, yet not without a certain thrill of the scientist's
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or archaeologist's delight, Alhazred examined his surroundings more closely.
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The moon, now near the zenith, shone vividly above the towering steeps that
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hemmed in the chasm revealed that far below rested a great area of flat land.
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As he inspected the monolith more closely he noticed that, though eroded by
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the billowing sands, it was still identifiable as... a cow. Footholds were
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aplenty and Alhazred began the laborious trek downwards into the vast chasm.
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As Alhazred dropped from a low ledge to the base of the chasm he uttered a
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slightly audible groan. His feet had hit not sand but wheat. As he regained
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his feet he surveyed his surroundings. For hundreds of yards the great field
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reared into the distance.. far off he thought that he saw a mass of some sort
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but it was dark and he was unsure. He slowly set off towards the mass.
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Somewhere off in the distance he thought he heard the frenzied mooings of some
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unspeakable Bovine beast, but he convinced himself that it was probably just
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the wind.
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When Alhazred was within earshot of the vast mass he did hear the frenzied
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mooings of some sort of beast. Shaking with fear he moved closer only because
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of fear of what might be lurking around the vast pasture. As he got closer he
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saw that the mass was indeed a building, a temple.. broken colonnades paraded
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around the temple and strange bas-reliefs covered its face...it was too dark
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to clearly make out what the reliefs depicted. Alhazred began to circumvent
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the temple looking for some means of egress. Soon he found a rubbled hole in
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a wall. The hole poured with a dim light and the smell of greasy smoke. He
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crouched down so that he could peer inside.
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Inside he saw a vast chamber filled with a slime-coated liquid that was
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obviously water. The chamber was dominated by a Cyclopean monolith, on whose
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surface he could now trace both inscriptions and crude sculptures. The
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writing was in a system of hieroglyphics unknown to Alhazred, consisting for
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the most part of Bovine creatures and the like. Several characters obviously
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represented beasts not of the modern world.
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It was the pictorial carving, however, that did most to hold him spell-
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bound. Plainly visible across the intervening monolith on account of their
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enormous size was an array of bas-reliefs whose subjects would have excited the
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envy of a Dore. He thought these things were supposed to depict cows - at
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least, a certain sort of cow; though the creatures were shown disporting like
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cows in great pastures, or paying homage at some monolithic shrine which
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appeared to be in a pasture as well. Of their faces and forms he dared not
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speak in detail; for the mere remembrance mad him grow faint. Grotesque beyond
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the imagination of a Poe or a Bulwer, they were damnably Bovine in general
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outline despite loathsome tentacles, cilia covered with congealed slime, wide
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with flabby lips, glassy, bulbous eyes, and other features less pleasant
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to recall. Curiously enough they seemed to be chiseled badly out of proportion
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with their scenic background. Alhazred decided that they were merely the
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imaginary gods of some race lost in the vestiges of time. Awestruck at this
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unexpected glimpse into the past, he stood musing whilst the moon cast queer
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reflections on the stone walls around him.
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Then he saw it. With only a slight churning to mark its rise to the
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surface, the thing slid into view above the dark waters. Vast,polyphemus-
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like, and loathsome, it darted like a stupendous monster of nightmares to the
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monolith, about which it flung its gigantic scaly tentacles, the while it bowed
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its hideously horned head and gave to certain measured mooings. Alhazred went
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mad then.
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On his frantic ascent of the cliff and dune slopes, and of his delirious
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journey back to Damascus, he remembered little. Alhazred sang a great deal,
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and laughed oddly when unable to sing. He had distinct recollections of a
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great storm some time after ascending out of the blasted heath in the middle
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of the Roba El Kaliyeh; at any rate, he knew that he heard peals of thunder
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and other tones which Nature utters only in her wildest moods.
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===============================================================================
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It was this experience that prompted Abdul Alhazred to scribe the original
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Arabic text, AL AZIF, later translated into the BOVINOMICON. This rare work
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deals with many complex matters, including the idea that Bovine mooings are
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actually the language of daemons from the outer regions of the cosmos.
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"...do you dare imagine things as they can be? As, indeed they will be
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when the earth is transformed and the illusion of reality is erased from the
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minds of men by the annihilation of those minds? Do you live in hope to see
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Great Bob-Sothoth stride the earth? Do you dream of the Throne of Yog-Elsie,
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of joining the faithful that mosh there? O, purify yourselves, then, for these
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and greater things await you who are members of our terrible order..."
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-- Part of a speech heard outside of a home in a Winston-Salem, NC, suburb
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"The world is indeed comic, but the joke is on mankind." -- H.P. Lovecraft
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===============================================================================
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(c)1988 cDc communications by The Raver 4/22/88-58
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All Rights Worth Shit
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