Gifts of the Gods

is a note found at the Altar of Rattosh.

We thought ourselves wise, masters of this craft. But arrogance often precedes tragedy...

With the Altar of Rattosh, we transcended the rudimentary spellcrafting of our predecessors. We made ourselves younger, stronger, more powerful; but all that paled in comparison to the full potential of the altar. We reached beyond the mortal realm, binding spirits to our will and forcing them to divulge ancient secrets. But even that was not enough. We needed more, and we knew just where to find it: the Eldritch Realm.

The Eldritch Realm is a strange reality, where the laws of the physical realm do not fully apply and magic runs rampant. The creatures within it are animal-like and yet not. Some are capable of rudimentary magic, some even speak in tongues we cannot fathom. But to us, it was the source of our great magic. To tap into this realm would mean powers beyond imagining. But such arrogant pursuits do not go without notice.

It was on a full moon that we gathered. Together, we would use the altar and transcend into the Eldritch Realm. This was to be our greatest triumph, but instead it was to be our most humbling moment. At our command, the runes upon the altar began to glow and then...nothing?! The spell spontaneously expired and we were hurled back as a shockwave emanated from its center. Something had arrived.

Before us stood three horrifying to behold beings. Their mere presence was nearly blinding. And their wrath was absolute. I was forced to watch as my sisters disintegrated in eldritch flames or melted as a thousand eyes stared them into nonexistence. Spiders enveloped another and devoured all but the bones.

Only we three remained, frozen in terror as the gods we scorned branded us for our arrogance. Then, just as they had arrived, they vanished. At first, we wondered why we were spared, but in time we realized the truth: we lived so that no other would repeat our mistakes.

If you are reading this, heed our warning. Turn back and leave this haunted place behind. Scour it from your memories, lest the gods return, their wrath unspent.