The Last Supper

This is the conclusion of the Book of Tosk translated in The Word and written on paper so that all who read this will know the lesson our most esteemed prophet decided to share with us in his final days and profit from the wisdom he has imparted on us.

I Rugbee the forty-second son of the forty-second aunt's brother's cousin of Tosk, and favoured acolyte of the esteemed Old Ones humbly prey that I honour and do great service to the Old Ones by revealing to the whole of Alagaesia the final commandments given to him by the Devine Overlords of Darkness as they prepared for the Last Supper. For as Tosk wrote, so it shall be.

And there upon the ground he fell to his knees for around the Ra'zac's heads radiant halos appeared as the orangy-pink pre-evening sun glittered and refracted off their shiny uncloaked heads, and he was overcome.

For a long while the young Old Ones stood over his meek form chirping and chittering most musically each to each.

Then tilting her ennobled proud head to the side, the smaller, crueller, and more implacable of the two asked him, "Dost thou wish to dine with usss?"

Humbled and consumed with love he replied, "It is incredible, truly incredible, that such a majestic creature would offer me such an honour. I am humbled." His lips brushed the soil at their feet.

Many minutes passed in which the esteemed young Old Ones convened in secret counsel, the melodious tweets and whistles of their wondrous language filling the darkening gap in the woods where they stood.

Turning toward Tosk the dark cloaked ones asked, "Wouldst thou prefer dining in thy den or in ours?"

"For thou I will prepare a great feast at which ever location thou prefer."

Then unto our most beloved prophet they commanded, "Go out and do as thou have said. At thy home we will be no earlier than seven, when the moon doth light up the sky."

And so as the revered hatchling Old Ones instructed Tosk returned home and a great feasthe prepared. When was laid out in opulent grandeur in the great dining hall of his house, he sat waiting for the arrival of the proud glorified shinny headed ones.

It was as they had promised sometime after seven, when the stars and moon, widened to its fullest, lit the night sky, they appeared. With much graciousness and deep bowing he welcomed them.

Delicious drinks and scrumptious posh chairs he offered them at the table, but they refused preferring to stand in the shadows of the doorway where they held private counsel. What they said in their beautiful language shall never be written down for such sounds of music could never be captured by ink or pen. So forever their words will remain unrecorded and unbeknownst to humans for no mortal ear can comprehend the complexity of their chirping-hissing songs.

"My young lords does something bother thee? Is this feast not to thy liking?"

"It isss wonderful," the taller more dignified of the two answered, "But we're still hungry."

A horrified scream rent the still Dras-Leona night and our beloved prophet, wise of mind and mangled of body, was never heard or see of again.

And I Rugbee, distant relative of Immortalized Prophet Tosk, low priest of Helgrind, and honoured ringer of the bells, have translated the word of Tosk as it was painted on the sewer walls. I prey Old One's in their glorious wisdom find favour with my work so that I-

A screech of pain split the silence of the painted tunnels beneath the city and an ink laden pen splattered across the bottom of the page: this and the unfinished sentence would baffle future archaeologists.

Rising from the blood splattered ground a hunchbacked figure garbed in black cloaks rose.

"Fat priests are always delicious."

It straightened out its hood before crossing the small space to look down at a stack of papers, several inkwells and a pile of pens.

"I wonder what he was writing about." It picked up a few sheets and began reading.

A moment later a second figure, slightly taller than the former, hunchbacked and donning a black cloak as well stood rubbing its hands together as if it were washing.

"My God can you believe this! What the Hell?"

"What is it? What's wrong?" The taller asked rushing to the smaller's side. The smaller cloaked figure began reading.

"What they said in their beautiful language shall never be written down for such sounds of music- my God. I'm going to hurl. So forever their words will remain unrecorded and unbeknownst to humans for no mortal ear can comprehend the complexity of their chirping-"

"What?" the taller of the two snatched the sheets from its smaller companion to read for himself.

"You remember Tosk?" The taller asked dropping the papers in disgust.

"Yeah. He's the idiot that believed us when we told him we were Gods."

Author's Note: I came up with this idea at four in the morning when I was doing homework and I decided to post it. Please review This, I really want to know what you all think about it. Thanks ^_^