Smoke Hangs Heavy
The fire crackled in the longhouse, casting flickering shadows on the weathered faces gathered within. Old Tekawitha, her eyes milky with age, stoked the flames with a gnarled hand. The air thrummed with a nervous anticipation, broken only by the rhythmic snap of the burning logs. “Tell us again,” Tekawitha rasped, “of the man who became Wendigo, consumed by his own greed.”
A young woman named Ahyoka stepped into the firelight, her voice a whisper against the crackling flames, beginning the tale…
The Whispering Pines of Chateaugay Lake
It was a time before the Great Flood, when Chateaugay Lake shimmered like a broken mirror under a sky fractured by the Chronophage. The once-familiar forests whispered secrets in an alien tongue, their ancient harmony shattered by temporal distortion. Here, amidst the twisted pines, resided a man named Mordecai Vilecreek.
Mordecai, a creature of calloused hands and hollow eyes, toiled on the docks of Merrill, his life a monotonous dance with despair. Moonshine, brewed under the cloak of darkness, was his solace, a fleeting escape from the crushing grip of poverty.
One moonless night, driven by desperation, Moonshine Mordecai stumbled upon a hidden cavern, its entrance veiled by gnarled roots. Drawn by an unseen force, he ventured inside. The air hung heavy with an ancient chill, and whispers, like the rustling of dead leaves, filled the cavernous space.
Rev. Chevalier Ultrus: Prophet or Pariah?
Three days and nights Mad Moonshine Mordecai remained lost within the cave, wrestling with phantoms born of the Chronophage’s temporal tear. When he emerged, blinking into the harsh sunlight, he was no longer Mordecai. He was Rev. Chevalier Ultrus, his eyes burning with a fanatical gleam.
Ultrus spoke of forgotten truths, of cosmic secrets whispered by the ancient white pines, fashioning a twisted gospel of sorts, cobbled from salvaged scraps of imagined Karahanian-paganism and native lore. His followers, a motley crew of desperate and disillusioned drunkards from around Shuttsville, Merrill, Crompville, Popeville, Standish, and Cooteyville, were drawn to the flickering flame of his charisma, oblivious to the darkness that lurked beneath.
The Allure of the Chronophage Crystal
Ultrus’s domain, a ramshackle cabin nestled deep in the woods, became a haven for the lost and the lonely. Under the guise of his newfound piety, Ultrus pursued his true obsession. Deep within the cave, nestled amongst ancient bones, lay the Chronophage crystal, a shard of fractured time that pulsed with an otherworldly hum. In it, Ultrus saw the key to unimaginable wealth and power, a chance to rewrite his own destiny.
He plundered the crystal’s energy, fueling his schemes, his influence growing like a monstrous vine choking the life from the land. His followers, initially drawn to his charismatic facade, began to see the hunger that gnawed at him from within.
The Hunger Takes Root
Ultrus’s thirst for power became insatiable. He hoarded his ill-gotten gains, his paranoia festering into a grotesque mockery of his former self. His eyes, once filled with a twisted zeal, now burned with the cold hunger of the Wendigo, the legendary spirit of insatiable consumption. The stolen power of the Chronophage crystal twisted Ultrus, warping him not just in spirit, but in flesh. His body grew gaunt, his skin stretched taut over protruding bones. He became a grotesque parody of a man, a living embodiment of his own monstrous greed.
The Forest Reclaims Its Own
One night, a tempest of unnatural fury descended upon Chateaugay Lake. Lightning, infused with the Chronophage’s chaotic energy, struck the cabin where Ultrus hoarded his stolen treasures. The building erupted in flames, a pyre consuming not just his wealth, but the very essence of his twisted ambition. When the fire subsided, all that remained were charred bones and a single, shattered shard of the Chronophage crystal, pulsating with a dying ember of malevolent energy.
Ahyoka’s voice faded, swallowed by the crackling fire. The silence stretched, heavy with the weight of the story. Old Tekawitha spoke, her voice hoarse. “The Wendigo walks not just in the forests,” she warned, “but within the hearts of men consumed by their desires.”
As they drifted off to sleep, the image of Chevalier Ultrus, forever tethered to the Wendigo’s insatiable hunger, haunted their dreams. The forest, forever watchful, held its secrets close.
What mysteries of Chateaugay Lake haunt you?