Clack...!
At my words, one of the figures stepped forward, though the sight of those half-corrupted wings made the motion feel wrong in a way I could not fully explain.
When it spoke, the voice did not come from its mouth alone.
It echoed from every direction at once, rising from the walls, the floor beneath me, even the air I was breathing.
"You recognize the name," the voice said, and there was a faint note of interest in it, something a little close to satisfaction.
"That is unusual. Most who exist within this realm do not even realize there is anything beyond their fragile systems of gods and order."
I kept my face still, refusing to show any reaction, while my thoughts raced through everything I remembered.
The knowledge came from another life, from pages I had read long before I was thrown into this place.
Nyarlathotep.
The Crawling Chaos.
The messenger who served the Outer Gods.
