Eternal Christmas: Part 1

Eternal Christmas: Sanity’s Holiday
Part 1
By: TK Sanders

“Tier, Pargon, Redgormor, Pargon, Ulyaoth.” murmured a disembodied voice. As it said this, the circle of power around Pious Augustus crafted the runes corresponding to the ancient tongue formed on the earth below him. A crackle of blue energy burst before him and a large portal tore open before him. Within it Pious could see between the arches a pulsating organ covered by a thin layer of blue, viscous, jelly-like flesh, it’s motions occasionally interrupted by shifting effects such as glass Venetian blinds opening and closing. Pious spoke to the portal; “Ulyaoth, Master of the Planes, Lord of Magick, Keeper of Order, and Almighty Wise One, I have but a mere question to ask of the wisest Ancient.” The voice’s response was cold and calculated. It was a booming echo, yet at the same time it was a dying whisper. Its cold monotone seemed to complement his icy attitude and pale blue membrane of flesh. “Though I do not believe in believe in such a disgustingly miniscule concept of human behavior such as flattery,” said the great Ulyaoth, his voice echoing through the walls and streets of the forbidden city Ehn’gah “I do believe in responding when acknowledged, so speak, Pious.”

Pious gazed upon the portal, his ravaged skin twitching in contemplation, contemplating a suitable method in which to enunciate his question. He then spoke. “Lord Ulyaoth,” he began, his armor clanking and the folds of his robe resting upon the ground beneath him as he bowed before his master “I wish to know that which only you could understand. I wish to know the meaning of Christmas.” A long period of silence fell. If Ulyaoth had had eyes, he would have been gazing upon Pious with a look dictating bewilderment, not regarding the answer to the question but, rather, bewilderment to how this piece of information crossed his servant’s mind. He then provided a response; “The holidays are a yawning chasm filled with Hallmark™ cards and the puerile meanderings of cheerfulness. Why should Christmas receive special consideration among them, Augustus, above all others?”

Pious gazed upon the portal with frustration. He mumbled something beneath his breath, something involving Ulyaoth forcibly inserting his ideas into some unmentionable area, before sighing an exasperated “Thank you, Master. That shall be all.” As he turned around to descend the mile-long stairway he heard from behind him (as did the rest of the hideous beasts in the abandoned city) “And, servant. Do not believe I did not hear what you said about me and my…ideals. That is all.”