Culling [4th]

Culling [4th] skin description

"A figure shuffled among the graves. It's moist skin was stretched taught and glistened under the moonlight. It was hard to tell if this was due to the light fog or if the moisture was coming from the creature itself. Indeed, the glint was abnormal. Something felt..wrong. It wore, strapped to it's face, a gold mask. The straps were made of a thick but rich looking leather. In contrast to this rough material was the mask; smooth and golden. It made a man want to reach out and touch it, even though they knew they would surely die if they did. In a way, the mask seemed to droop on the man's face. Liquid looking in a way. Behind the mask shone the man's eyes. Like blue fires, fueled by an eternal source of power. While one might assume the power might be of the undead, you would be mistaken. While my accounts so far seem as though the creature were not of the world of the living, one would find that it was far from that. Instead the figure was alive. The power was both deathly, terrifying, evil and it also held my mind. You would surely die if you looked upon those eyes of power, but you would be happy doing so.. You knew that power was what kept the world in balance. For balance is both black and white. We can not have good without evil. And this creature..this creature was of the evil. And yet it was just at the same time. It worked hand in hand with good. Upon it's back, it carried a pouch. One could only tell it was a leather bag or pouch of some sorts due to how it did not glint in the moonlight. Otherwise one might very well assume it was a part of the man. Almost as though he had carried it upon his back for a thousand years. The figure approached a large grave. The grave was truly a mammoth of a thing. Towering above the height of two men, made of a dark green stone, covered in moss and reeked of moisture and natural decay. Almost like overturning a log while in the woods. It was pungent and filled the lungs. Again..the moisture seemed unusual. Almost as though it was from the same world as the creature. For truly this figure could without a doubt be called a non-human. It was from another world. But oh no, not like an alien. Aliens were but myths and legends. This creature was real. It belonged to a greater world that sat upon Earth, ruling it with a silent but firm grip. As the creature approached the grave it began to mutter. The lettering on the grave began to glow with a delicate blue aura. As the creature continued to mutter he began to sink. Was he shrinking or was he truly descending? But before long, he was no longer to be found. It was as though the earth had chosen to swallow this creature whole. When I returned home that night I found my wife to be dead from some unknown cause. I strongly suspect the creature was at play. And if that were the case, I am not upset. Balance was made and struck. I find myself, a few days later, on my own deathbed. No doubt from seeing the creature. But I have no regrets. Despite this impending sense of doom, I feel it is of the utmost importance to preserve this encounter. I move from this world to the next. I go to meet the creature." - Journal of Harold P. Bittersburg, 1898, May 3rd