The Unnamed: Part 1.

"The painting itself sent shivers down my spine..."

Some men live their lives skirting danger.
Other men choose to remain hidden; lost in the tapestries of Time.
And then there were men like me; men who chose to leave their mark on history, whether via heroic deeds of heinous crimes.
My name is Benjamin Krenas, and the latter was my choice.
I do not remember much of what happened, so I will do my best to explain the events of that fateful night, when I chose to leave my mark in the form of an audacious (and in retrospect, foolish) heist.
Here then, is the full, and unadulterated version of events as I remember them. Perhaps then someone will know of our tale once and for all.

"We all set for tonight?" I exclaimed.
"Check!" chorused back my team.
My team consisted of 4 individuals; Jeff, Darren, Alison and myself.
We had spent months preparing for this heist - mapping out the path of least resistance, infiltrating the building, bypassing security, you name it, our plan had it covered.
Yes, there were a few... delays, but nothing we could not cover - our morale was impenetrable, only surpassed by our spirit.
Our target was "The Unnamed", a painting hidden underneath a gallery on the outskirts of London, whose name has long left my mind, alongside other less-known (yet still forbidden) works.
"The Unnamed" was an alluring target, purely because of the superstitious twaddle that accompanied it like excess baggage; it is said that those who set their eyes upon the painting are unable to comprehend the vistas shown, and are driven to insanity, hence why there is no true name for the painting. Presumably all nonsense to make the painting seem worth more than it is, but nevertheless, my interest was piqued; such an item could prove to be worth quite a fair bit of money to any would-be billionaire collectors. With that much money, we could be set up for life!
No longer would we need to worry about the most basic needs that plague and riddle man; we would be free to do what we wished!
The dream of an Elysian life was dampened by the ever-growing fear of getting caught, of course.
It is possible that we would fail and be sent to rot in prison - but we were all willing to take that risk.
There was no way our situations could become any worse:
All my cohorts faced some form of unassailable problem within their own lives; most of them had nothing left to lose in this risky gambit.
And myself? I had no family to settle down with, no job worth speaking of, no dreams to pursue.
I was a nobody; not a product of a broken society, but someone who failed to fit in the mold.
Throughout my life, I dreamed of making something of myself; I soaked myself in lore forgotten and dreamed of a better life... but now, I realize that the only way to be truly remembered was to commit a crime so heinous, so incredibly daring, people would have no choice but to look in awe - or was it horror?
I always got those two mixed up; but nevertheless, I will leave my mark. Just not in the way I intended...

And so it was, that at midnight, on a Friday I have long forgotten the name of, we infiltrated the gallery, our footfall masked by the sound of roaring thunder high up in the twilight sky.
Our group had gathered one mile away from the gallery; enough distance for us to get our equipment ready and go through our plan once more. We had everything we needed; explosive charges to break through into the gallery, firearms should we encounter resistance, and masks to keep our identities hidden.
Darren had parked a lorry gathered earlier outside the gallery so as we could drive away with the painting and whatever else we found inside.
In isolation, I flickered through all the possible plans for tonight's heist.
Breaking in through the front door?
Only if I want to be quickly apprehended and have to spend my days in incarceration.
Rooftop entrance?
None of us had climbing equipment, and there'd just be more work for us, seeing as the painting we're stealing is underground.
Now, that led me to the final option; charting a path through the pre-existing sewer system, leading straight into the heart of the gallery, and hopefully, straight to "The Unnamed". Maybe then we'd get to give the bloody thing a name!
My reverie would have to be continued another day, however; today, the skies above begin to daub the surrounding areas with rain. Angry, tempestuous clouds loomed overhead, swollen with water and booming with the sound of infant thunder.
The skies themselves cracked with lightning, and the light shower of rain turned into a downpour possessing indomitable strength.
"This better be worth it." grumbled Darren, his jet-black gear now fully inundated with water, squelching with every somber step.
"Of course it'll be worth it." I said.
"This is the experience of a lifetime! We're going to carry out a heist so incredibly audacious, we'll be going down straight into the history books!"
"Not before first going down into a sewer." Darren muttered with the faint tone of bitterness crawling into his voice.
"Sacrifices have to be made sometimes. Now come over here and help me! This manhole ain't going to lift itself!" I shouted, my voice a feeble whisper among the din of  the roaring rain.
Darren and I lifted the manhole, only to welcomed by the fetid stench of waste and things-that-should-not-be spoken-of. We doubled back instantaneously, our nostrils infiltrated by the foul intruder.
"You're both such wimps - how on earth are we going to head inside of you can't stand a little smell?" questioned Alison.
"Nothing to fear, lass - it was only a precautionary measure, we're heading down now." I said, trying to shut away the tinge of embarrassment that permeated my voice.
"If you say so." she said, and one by one, we descended into the darkness.

We all kept silent as we trudged through the sewer tunnels.
The walls were coated in filth and vermin skittered by our feet, straight into hungry shadows, but nevertheless, we trudged on, our footsteps echoing and reverberating all throughout the tunnel.
The reason we were going through a sewer instead of barging through the front doors or infiltrating through the roof was that this was the fastest, safest way to head under the gallery without being detected by security. Alison had charted a route that led us directly to the room in which the forbidden paintings were being held - along with "The Unnamed", allowing us to get in and out quickly enough without ever being seen.
Whether it was worth smelling like the contents of a skip - that was for us to decide later.
Our journey led us through winding tunnels of brick and primordial moss, the cloying smell of rot, both new and old, hanging in the air wherever we went.
Noises, both our own and not our own provided the soundtrack for our grand heist; a haunting melody that kept us all on our nerves.
Shadows permeated all, with the only way to guide us to our objective being our feeble flashlights, flickering and dancing in the underground twilight, creating fantastical shapes as they illuminated our path.
Darkness shrouded our objective, but we persevered on, right up until our path led to a dead end, and in front of us lay a wall quite unlike the surrounding structures.
Instead of being composed of rotting brick and mortar, this wall's body was aging concrete, which seemed to be devoid of the decay that was ever so commonplace here underground. Instead, only shallow cracks were visible on the surface; a plain, beige face that examined my motley crew with the speed of a bookworm, flicking through lives and ultimately concluding its critique with cold, dead silence, its unspoken words hanging in stale air.
Jeff was the first to examine the wall in return. He traced his hands over the wall's thin, lithe cracks, and nodded to Darren. In tandem, both men placed explosives along the wall, taking several steps back. Alison and I followed suit, the silence now broken by Jeff's words:
"Three..." Jeff whispered.
The clouds overhead still crackled with energy, the rain now forming a steady tempo.
"Two..." Jeff added, the rain now battering on the roof of the sewer, almost pleading to be let in.
"One!" Jeff shouted, and it was then he pressed the detonator.
Just as what I presume to be lightning shattered over the skies, the wall came apart in a shower of rubble and dirt, frayed metal fingers hanging limply from the sides.
"That was the easy bit - now it's time for the real job to begin." I said, and in single file we each passed through the newly formed doorway.
We entered into a dimly lit hallway, paintings hanging from the walls.
As one, the group surged past these works; they were not the target I was looking for.
After checking several doors to see which one led to our target, all of us entered a chamber with hardwood floors and antiquarian walls, which contrasted with the artificial lighting and revealed to us all that needed to be known.
This was a relatively large room, and within it, there lay the outlines of many forbidden pieces of art.
The peculiar detail was that all of the paintings - every single one of them, was covered with a plain white sheet, almost as if the contents of such a composition would drive men to the mountains of madness should they glimpse such work.
I silently scoffed at the idea, all whilst flicking through the numerous plaques that identified each painting.
The paintings were of different size; some were as large as a laptop's screen, and others were as tall as a man.
Each could only be identified with the help of a diminutive brass plaque that hung from the bottom of each, stating the name of the painting, along with its date of creation.
Meanwhile, all the different members of our group examined the room from top to bottom, checking each painting's name, each attempting to find the prize themselves.
"Ben, are you sure it's here?" inquired Darren, impatiently pacing up and down the length of the room, scanning for our target.
"It HAS to be here, I'm certain of it. Why else would I lead us here?" I retorted, the words looming over us both.
Darren remained silent.
Myself, I too joined in the search, once more viewing the plaques of each;

"A Feast To Remember"

"Cerulean Fire"

"The Yawning Abyss"

Was our quest in vain? Was our daring heist destined to stagnate?
Now my spirit began to wane; perhaps this heist was indeed doomed to failure, and the only view I'd ever see would be the endless grey of some God-forsaken prison here on this accursed land.
I drifted into pessimistic thoughts, and would have remained in such a state had I not glimpsed the next plaque:

"The Unnamed"

The painting itself sent shivers down my spine, and after vital seconds passed by unheard, my shout rang out.
"I've found it! Guys, I've found it!" I exclaimed, my spirit now drunken with barely-concealed joy.
I had finally found my target - the riches once held by the upper echelons would finally be mine to behold!

My fanciful notions were brought to a swift end as Alison shook me from my daydream.
"Hush! Do you want us to be caught now, now that we have what we want?" she quipped.
"My apologies." I whispered, holding back a torrent of vituperative curses.
As one, we stood before the painting, yet none dared to discard its untouched mantle.
Had I been one for theology, I may have attributed the cause of our hesitation as a warning, as a desperate plea from souls long forgotten for us to turn back and forget about this place for good.
But I am not of those persuasions, nor was I willing to turn back. It was too late to run - I was going to see this through to the end, no matter what.
And so it was, with one deft action, I grabbed the white mantle, and flicked it off to the distance, watching it dance and flutter in the air before it crumpled to the ground, lying silent and motionless.
A collective gasp was heard from my group, and as I turned my eyes to the painting, I could now see why.
Holding center focus in the foreground, there lay sculpted... abnormal, almost humanoid creatures.
Their expressions were those not of raw hatred, nor of any emotion known to civilized society; instead, to me, they embodied the purely primal desires that lingered and hovered in humanity's subconscious, remnants of a savage time now lost in the civility of the modern age.
Pallid, sickly skin further highlighted the vast contrast between itself and my own form, and I drew to the conclusion that this can only be art of an abstract form - no such monsters existed in the real world; their only abode being in the nightmares of young and old alike.
These beings, these monsters left their imprints on my mind immediately, and it took much of my fortitude to resist the unraveling of my very psyche- it was as if even the slightest glimpse of such work was a truly alien vista; an incomprehensible thought to mortal minds.
I turned to my group after examining the painting, detailing the rest of the plan.
"Now that we've seen such a work for ourselves, all that remains is for us to carry it out.
Darren and Jeff, you're the muscle, so you'll be doing the heavy-lifting -"
"Ben!" shouted Alison.
"What is it?" I asked.
"The - the things; they're gone!" she wailed, pointing at the painting, trembling with childish fear.
I was ready to quip, but my sentence was cut short as I turned to see a screen of black.

The monsters were gone.
At once, I was gripped with fear and worry - only to be shaken from it instantly by Darren.
His words to me were "Don't worry - we have the painting, now all that remains is to -"
He was interrupted by a scream, a long, haunting cry neither human nor animal in nature.
The atmosphere was shrouded in silence for several long, interminable seconds, my mind racing to find a rational explanation for this sudden change.
And then it was that I heard that noise, that unmistakable noise.
Footsteps.

Source of image: http://anggito96.wordpress.com/

Tales From The High Seas: The Yawning Abyss.

"Bio-luminescent lights shone from atop mountains of rippled flesh..."

My first recollection of this tale began all the way out in the Atlantic ocean, inside the exploration submarine Valiant Fighter.
It was a tempestuous January morn one the day my vessel reached the epicenter of its destination, stopping and remaining still in the undulating current. The clouds above us sighed with sporadic, but light showers of rain, drizzling over the surface, and ultimately rolling over into the waters.
The crew's role here was to map out certain sectors of the hitherto-unexplored abyss deep below miles of water that had not yet been traversed by humans, or their technology.
Myself, I was in charge of guiding our vessel, sending it down into the abyss. This was an exciting opportunity - up until now, this fissure has remained isolated from all outside contact for innumerable years!
What awaited us within?
New species to observe and document?
Precious oil fields to extract and sell off?
Or something that should never have been awoken from its slumber?
I shook all notions of hidden demons and unearthed threats from my head - I was a man of science and progress, not a believer of backwards notions held by goat-herders and lunatics!
"We all set for the descent?" the co-captain said, shaking me from my reverie.
"Yes, I was just about to head downstairs to get this beauty ready for launch." I replied.
"What are we waiting for?" said my co-captain.
We both headed down into the interior of the ship, passing short corridors daubed in utilitarian grey as we moved towards the center. Moving past several crew members, we remained silent until at last, we reached our destination.
Both of us entered the control room of such a vessel; small enough for several men to fit in, with much of the space taken up by bulky computer monitors, guarding over all known functions; radar, weapons systems, everything a good submarine was expected to be carrying at any given time.
"Roger, if you could ensure the crew is ready for descent." I said.
"Of course." he replied, promptly turning for the door.

As Roger departed to notify the other men, I began to prepare for descent, pressing confirm on all functions.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

*ACTIVATION SCREEN*

FUNCTIONS

VIDEO CAMERA: ENABLED

LEFT TURBINE: ENABLED

RIGHT TURBINE: ENABLED

WEAPONS SYSTEMS: DISABLED

LIGHTING SYSTEMS/SEARCHLIGHT: ENABLED

PERISCOPE: ENABLED

MICROPHONES: ENABLED

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

I kept the weapons systems off for this expedition; we were only down here for reconnaissance purposes today, nothing more.
The rest of this preparation involved numerous checklists and procedures; after I was satisfied with the results, I took the vessel and sent it down into the unfathomable, uncharted depths.
Downwards we traveled, and when the abyss was in sight I paused the craft, viewing the very area I was going to explore.
It was of a most gargantuan stature, stretching for miles innumerable; a yawning fissure that lacked beginning or end, instead filled with shadow and benthic life unknown.
The walls of such a furrow lacked detail, bare and leading down into depths unexplored, and to its sides, the area was surrounded by plains most sullen, devoid of any semblance of color or life.
Fearing idleness, I sent the craft down into the unknown.
For many an age, I controlled the motions of the machine, sending it further and further downwards into the abyss, glimpsing a vista no man before - or after - had seen with their own eyes.
At first, the vessel was guarded by sun's light; clearly visible to any man's naked eye.
Yet at we traveled further and further downwards, the light that shone and guided the way was obfuscated by the very water itself, growing dimmer and dimmer with each passing moment until at last, the vessel reached the threshold of the twilight beneath. I hovered the vessel if but for a moment; sending the searchlight far and wide, slashing away at the darkness beheld by my eyes alone.
Finding nothing of concern, to the bottom, we continued.
The light of above gave way to vast carpets of sheer nothingness that filled my vision, an empty, featureless void incapable of being filled by any ordinary man.
For some time, I was unsure whether we were going anywhere; perhaps I was not making any progress in these depths, and forces unknown were keeping my curiosity at bay.
A nonsensical notion - what could be down here save for those vestiges of life too wretched to make it above this land?
Only the dead lurked here - alongside whatever was thrown away from view, meant to remain hidden.
At least until today - today, I would be the first to map eyes on this uncharted land.
Descending, I kept, driving the  vehicle further and further down until at last, the lone searchlight illuminated the bottom of this trench. Surprisingly enough, the bottom was not the barren vista I and many others had expected; down here, there seemed to be sporadic patches of what appeared to be vegetation or some other substance fixed upon the floor; a torn epidermis of ragged life that undulated in tune with the currents.
Aquatic life slumbered down here, but not any I recognized, only a vast assortment of creatures most heinous and eldritch, with all manner of forms; gelatinous beacons illuminating the dark, ophidian-esque icthyes unlike those that dwelt above swam past; slender bodies assorted with instruments fit only to harm unwary prey.
None took interest in my vessel, though a few did attempt to ascertain just what it was that intruded upon their realm; all left after their weapons failed to even penetrate the hide of my craft.
Endless silence flooded the microphones, the only noise being the thrumming of the twin motors as we pushed forwards, darkness parting before us as we continued on.

Quiet reigned supreme here, silence shrouding all... save a for a faint noise that was easy to miss for the untrained observer.
Faint it was, thought I was able to discern a melody to that sound; a song that appealed to the senses and bewitched me with each passing moment.
A moment's pause was all it took for me to almost felt pity for this damnable creature, this siren ringing out across the abyss, forever singing and forever unheard. It was then I decided to investigate the source of this noise, and find out just what it was that had attracted my attention.
I stopped the submarine and hung still for a moment, hung in that desolate emptiness, before veering left and travelling towards the noise.
Both propellers chugged and wheezed as I traveled to the source of my curiosity, the tune growing ever louder and ever so bewitching, rising and rising in its own crescendo, my heart dreaming of tearing a hole in my chest, falling into a rhythm of frightening alacrity as I strode ever closer.
Shaken from my daydream by a violent juddering, and I came to a horrifying conclusion - we were no longer in control! Attempting to regain control of the vessel, I pushed the motors to their limit, but to no avail; the they were disabled, sputtering their last as we were taken by forces unknown.
Alarms rung out across the vessel, monitors flashed with garish red, and the co-captain stumbled inwards, asking of me:
"What's going on? What have you done?"
"I do not know what is happening - we appear to have lost control!" I replied.
"I can see that. Where are we being taken?"
"We... are being taken to our doom." I said solemnly, as the submarine was dragged closer and closer to the source of that bewitching, enthralling voice.
Now, as all control of my vessel was lost, it was then I heard a scraping noise throughout the hull of the submarine, and I realized were not being dragged by the current; something out there was taking hold of our course!
"Impossible..." I muttered to myself.
Nothing large or intelligent enough to cart our vessel away as if were a mere toy could not possibly exist down here - but as I spoke my words and pandemonium broke out inside, something, or somethings stirred outside in that eternal twilight.
Shadows flickered and the scraping subsided, and when I looked through the periscope, I at last saw the culprit responsible for our deviation.

The creature bore a most hideous countenance; birthed perhaps between a union of creatures indescribable.
Vestiges of a hindquarter fluke led to an abdomen most segmented; made up of several carapaces which interlocked and separated from each other as the creature drew breath.
Upon its chest, slender, crustacean-esque legs lay contracted, held close to the creature's heart, presumably; at their forefront, two longer, blood-rust limbs remained extended, their tips forming jagged instruments of death - perhaps these were were the course of that interminable scraping earlier?
Shaking all needless thoughts from my mind, I gazed upon the beast's face, and my God!
A true abomination, it was; unrecognizable as animal or anything more civilized, instead opting for the visage of horrors best left to the imagination. Inside the mouth, rows of demonic teeth led down into this thing's throat, which shuddered with the same haunting melody I had only heard minutes ago.
It was then I realized that no fair maiden, no bewitching siren had made these ethereal cries for help; it was a trap to lure foolish men like me to their doom.
Mouth stretched in an expression of alien ecstasy, the creature sang the same twisted song that had lured me here, in a manner akin to the rats of the Piper - only this time, the creature spoke, and its words were most chilling, more so than our immediate surroundings:

"His house, you have disturbed. Rise, our Lord Krin' tal will."
Shocked, I was, not only due to the creature speaking but due to the introduction of this "Krin'tal".
Who - or what was it?
The master of these hideous minions?
As I pondered these and many more options, the creatures and its kin froze, only to swim away in their uncouth fashion, swallowed by the dark as something greater, something else moved about within the edges of the searchlight.
Frozen with fear, I controlled the searchlight, once more scanning the area for whatever it was that had scared off my aggressors, all to no avail. Sighing with relief, I slouched back - only to be knocked forward as the vessel was rocked by a most calamitous impact.
Groaning now as metal buckled and ruptured, my very submarine surged downwards a most indeterminable speed, pushed downwards by a far greater threat than those hideous beasts outside.
Blood now dripping from my head, I stumbled backwards, only for my world to tumble into black as the submarine smacked into the ocean floor.

Water lapped by my sides as I awoke to a groaning vessel, her sides buckling and thrumming with increased pressure. Slowly, I got up, inspecting my body and self in case I had suffered any grievous injury.
Finding nothing of concern, I stood, body trembling with pain all over.
"Is anyone there?" I shouted, only to receive no reply.
It would appear I was the only one aboard now - hovering between confusion and melancholy, I was knocked to the floor by a most vehement force.
Riveting the entirety of my mind, the force handled my conscious with a vigor situated between delicate caressing and forceful bravado -until at last, its booming voice echoed in my head.

"Idnh terr kahlos Krin'tal nigran!" (You have disturbed Krin'tal most lamentably!)
"Sahnerrah pos tin'kreh nidah.  (A fool to come here, for all before you is darkness.)      
Tej quar med domin, solok mar telok."  (This shall be my domain, served not for your kind.)
"Uda ro'the, tu qhet en salin!" (Leave now, your quest in vain!)

As the voice boomed in my head, I could see the periscope in sight.
The eldritch beast ceased communication, leaving my mind and restoring control of my faculties to myself alone. Praying that it was not damaged, inching towards it bit by bit, I at last held a steadfast grip upon its outward handles, and looked through to inspect the outside.
Once, I may have only believed in the monsters of the night, but today, I know that they are a certainty, lurking in corners of our world that should never be inspected by mortal eyes.
Krin'tal, as he named himself, was perhaps the embodiment of the ophidian form, possessing a body rippled with aging, taupe twines of muscle, thicker than pillars and stronger than the most staunch alloys.
Bio-luminescent lights shone atop mountains of rippled muscle, situated just below dorsal lances, separated by mucilaginous membrane, dwarfing even his very cohorts.
Diaphanous, translucent fins gave him the means of propulsion, and as I set my eyes upon his face, I was overcome with with a flash of pain incredibly blinding, searing my body once more, taking a hammer upon my already wounded mind and shattering my mind into pieces minute.
His aspect lacked description, featureless and sleek, leading down into a cavernous passage that hid darkness and blades most cuspid, ivory daggers glinting in the dark, my mind struggled to comprehend the sight before it. I ripped myself from the periscope, both hands clutching cranium firmly.
Screaming both inside and out, I crumpled to the floor, attempting to describe just what it was I had lain eyes on; the words eluded my grasp, and so did my health.
Falling, falling back into the black I had awoken from, I rest, safely at peace at the very bottom.
Or, so I thought.
As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I could garner the impression that my ruined craft was being lifted, out of the trench and back to the world above. Impossible, surely, but I definitely could feel a certain elevation; salvation had come at last!
All the horrible sensations, the appalling sights - all a figment of a troubled mind!
Yet the last thing I remember, as overwhelming joy gave way to brooding fear and my body collapsed into hallowed dream-lands, was the following phrase being spoken in my mind, bearing the heaviness of old, yet the comfort of dreams;

"Back to slumber for mighty Krin'tal ; no peace will visit you."

I can still remember him every now and again. Every now and again, when the light grows dim and the moon shines through the iron-clad bars, I remember his voice and plead to be let out, beg for an escape from this place.
Scornful derision is my only response, and once more I am left to the confines of my vastly opened mind.
The Lord Of Dark, the Abyssal Fiend - known by many names, he dominates my mind in the twilight hours of morn and the bitter cold of night.
He approaches once more - please, leave me be!


Source of monster image: http://yefumm.deviantart.com/art/Ever-wonder-332300731