Post by thejasonsorrell on Jan 21, 2017 2:02:20 GMT -6
The story of Ward Chacidski is not unfamiliar to anyone who worships the Old Ones, and stands as a warning to those who are overzealous and presumptive about their own worth.
As a young man, Ward found it difficult to congregate with his peers in school who saw him as odd, if they took note of him at all. He was not an attractive youth, nor charismatic or particularly intelligent, but he was also not so ugly, socially inept or moronic that he called derision on himself. Generally, he was someone who no one took notice of.
He had within him the same desires as any young man, but his lack of being anyone noteworthy made things difficult for him, especially when pursuing the opposite sex. He found women often aloof, which he took as a cold neglect. He had been teased and publicly spurned in his earliest attempts to win the attention of girls, and was fearful of enduring such an experience as a young adult. He knew his peers could be particularly cruel, when presented an opportunity.
He suffered the same tribulations of youth as any of us, but because he was unremarkable in any way, perhaps more poignantly.
Ward was greatly attracted to the works of the Luminary. He read the Mythos with glee, imagining to himself what he might do with the perverse powers granted by the Old Ones both to secure his own desires and strike down his enemies. His interests drew him into the company of others who studied the Luminary's works, but none of them had the same degree of fascination or passion for the Mythos as Ward. In time, he managed to ostracize even this rarified crowd.
He was not discouraged by this. It may have even spurred him further. Ward began to study the Mythos in earnest, culling clues from the Luminary's words that lead to even more esoteric texts. He began to dabble in ritual magic, applying the wisdom of the Luminary to common techniques he learned from mixed sources. He came to believe that he had some minor success.
Emboldened by his efforts, he established a social group with members from far flung regions who were attracted to his ideas and his reports of success. Most who fell into his orbit were fools, but the few serious students who approached him due to their own parallel investigations encouraged him further. He poured himself into his experiments and his social circle, forgoing most all other pursuits.
It was these efforts that drew our attention to him.
We moved cautiously, as we always do, infiltrating his circle, spurring study in particular directions (both true and false), and leaving clues to test his faculties. After a few years of observation, we allowed him to discover us as a secret school, and offered him consideration as an adept of our scholarly circle.
Ward eagerly accepted, abandoning his own meager organization without hesitation. We carefully doled out information, teaching him what he could manage of the inner-mysteries. We introduced him to our genealogy project, and our theory that the Dread Lord Cthulhu Himself had a hand in the evolution of our species. The idea that we might be something more than human enthralled him. He became desperate to discover if he was a member of some errant branch of one of the Great Families.
Like all our members, his genealogy was thoroughly investigated. We took great pains to carefully trace the Chacidski family history, reviewing carefully our findings. Ward was an excellent adept, as if he had finally discovered that thing at which he excelled. We all harbored hope that he would prove to be descended from one of the Great Families, so impressive was his service.
Alas, we found no indication that he was a descendent of the peculiar bloodlines we studied and nurtured. Like the vast majority of the members of our organization, the touch of Cthulhu was not obvious in his ancestral history, nor in his DNA. Wishing to offer solace to the disheartened lad, we allowed him to study some of the cursory aspects of our genealogy project independently.
This lead to Ward discovering the stories of the Lost Ones, and hints of the final test of validity. The Lost Ones were simply possible family lines that we had not yet discovered, branches of one of the Great Families whose connection had been erased by history. Anyone was potentially a member of a Lost Family, but normally it would take generations of significant individual examples for a new hereditary line to be considered potentially connected to one of the Great Families.
The final test of validity was a far more damning secret. Though only hinted at in the materials Ward was allowed access to, he eventually discerned that involved a harrowing trial by a preternatural force. His mentors at first tried to discourage him from pursuing this route, suggesting he instead take pride in his great value to our organization and his own merits. We explained that the trial is rarely ever used, since confirmation can be achieved through genealogy and DNA comparisons. We even went as far as to explain to him that the trial is reserved as one of the final rites of progression in our organization, pursued by a rare few who attain those heights. Ward's fanaticism and obsession, qualities which were normally a boon to us, would not allow him to divert from his dream of being, as he saw it, one of the Chosen. He insisted on being tried.
We explained that we could not explicitly tell him what he would face, that knowledge would come after decades of service if ever. We told him only that he would be placing himself in the greatest possible peril, and even if he were successful and proven to be of Cthulhu's Chosen, he would be dramatically changed by the experience. He revelled in the possibility, assured of his success.
Ward admirably endured the preparation for the rite, without trying to ferret out more details of what he would face. While unable to reveal any of the mysteries to him, we did what we could to ward him against harm. He fasted and meditated in preparation. On the appointed night, he was bathed, anointed, and dressed in a simple robe. A blindfold was placed over his eyes so that he would not see the ceremony he had not yet earned the right to knowledge of, but which initiated the trial. Despite our misgivings and his minimal preparation, he showed admirable courage as he was ushered into the tribulation chamber.
What Ward Chacidski saw in that chamber, no one will ever know. A Shuggoth may assume any mind-shattering form. The Shuggoth we summoned had been allied with our organization for centuries, its sole purpose is to weed out the unworthy within whom the Mark of Cthulhu was either too weak or non-existent to indulge in the most high of the inner mysteries. Those who the Shuggoth determines to be Cthulhu's Chosen become exalted members of the true Cult. As a reward for this service, the Shuggoth is allowed to consume the souls of the unworthy, digesting their essence and enjoying their psychic screams of agony for all eternity.
Ward Chacidski was found wanting.
The lesson of his story is simple but oft ignored. Ignorance is bliss, wisdom is a burden. It is wise to study fire, to nurture and learn from it, but foolhardy to try to embrace it and draw it into one's bosom. Those who assume too much, who fail to exercise patience when reaching for the next rung of the ladder, often find the their hand severed at the wrist.
We can take comfort in knowing that in the end, before madness destroyed his mind and the Shuggoth destroyed his flesh and consumed his soul, his beliefs in the words of the Luminary were affirmed.
As a young man, Ward found it difficult to congregate with his peers in school who saw him as odd, if they took note of him at all. He was not an attractive youth, nor charismatic or particularly intelligent, but he was also not so ugly, socially inept or moronic that he called derision on himself. Generally, he was someone who no one took notice of.
He had within him the same desires as any young man, but his lack of being anyone noteworthy made things difficult for him, especially when pursuing the opposite sex. He found women often aloof, which he took as a cold neglect. He had been teased and publicly spurned in his earliest attempts to win the attention of girls, and was fearful of enduring such an experience as a young adult. He knew his peers could be particularly cruel, when presented an opportunity.
He suffered the same tribulations of youth as any of us, but because he was unremarkable in any way, perhaps more poignantly.
Ward was greatly attracted to the works of the Luminary. He read the Mythos with glee, imagining to himself what he might do with the perverse powers granted by the Old Ones both to secure his own desires and strike down his enemies. His interests drew him into the company of others who studied the Luminary's works, but none of them had the same degree of fascination or passion for the Mythos as Ward. In time, he managed to ostracize even this rarified crowd.
He was not discouraged by this. It may have even spurred him further. Ward began to study the Mythos in earnest, culling clues from the Luminary's words that lead to even more esoteric texts. He began to dabble in ritual magic, applying the wisdom of the Luminary to common techniques he learned from mixed sources. He came to believe that he had some minor success.
Emboldened by his efforts, he established a social group with members from far flung regions who were attracted to his ideas and his reports of success. Most who fell into his orbit were fools, but the few serious students who approached him due to their own parallel investigations encouraged him further. He poured himself into his experiments and his social circle, forgoing most all other pursuits.
It was these efforts that drew our attention to him.
We moved cautiously, as we always do, infiltrating his circle, spurring study in particular directions (both true and false), and leaving clues to test his faculties. After a few years of observation, we allowed him to discover us as a secret school, and offered him consideration as an adept of our scholarly circle.
Ward eagerly accepted, abandoning his own meager organization without hesitation. We carefully doled out information, teaching him what he could manage of the inner-mysteries. We introduced him to our genealogy project, and our theory that the Dread Lord Cthulhu Himself had a hand in the evolution of our species. The idea that we might be something more than human enthralled him. He became desperate to discover if he was a member of some errant branch of one of the Great Families.
Like all our members, his genealogy was thoroughly investigated. We took great pains to carefully trace the Chacidski family history, reviewing carefully our findings. Ward was an excellent adept, as if he had finally discovered that thing at which he excelled. We all harbored hope that he would prove to be descended from one of the Great Families, so impressive was his service.
Alas, we found no indication that he was a descendent of the peculiar bloodlines we studied and nurtured. Like the vast majority of the members of our organization, the touch of Cthulhu was not obvious in his ancestral history, nor in his DNA. Wishing to offer solace to the disheartened lad, we allowed him to study some of the cursory aspects of our genealogy project independently.
This lead to Ward discovering the stories of the Lost Ones, and hints of the final test of validity. The Lost Ones were simply possible family lines that we had not yet discovered, branches of one of the Great Families whose connection had been erased by history. Anyone was potentially a member of a Lost Family, but normally it would take generations of significant individual examples for a new hereditary line to be considered potentially connected to one of the Great Families.
The final test of validity was a far more damning secret. Though only hinted at in the materials Ward was allowed access to, he eventually discerned that involved a harrowing trial by a preternatural force. His mentors at first tried to discourage him from pursuing this route, suggesting he instead take pride in his great value to our organization and his own merits. We explained that the trial is rarely ever used, since confirmation can be achieved through genealogy and DNA comparisons. We even went as far as to explain to him that the trial is reserved as one of the final rites of progression in our organization, pursued by a rare few who attain those heights. Ward's fanaticism and obsession, qualities which were normally a boon to us, would not allow him to divert from his dream of being, as he saw it, one of the Chosen. He insisted on being tried.
We explained that we could not explicitly tell him what he would face, that knowledge would come after decades of service if ever. We told him only that he would be placing himself in the greatest possible peril, and even if he were successful and proven to be of Cthulhu's Chosen, he would be dramatically changed by the experience. He revelled in the possibility, assured of his success.
Ward admirably endured the preparation for the rite, without trying to ferret out more details of what he would face. While unable to reveal any of the mysteries to him, we did what we could to ward him against harm. He fasted and meditated in preparation. On the appointed night, he was bathed, anointed, and dressed in a simple robe. A blindfold was placed over his eyes so that he would not see the ceremony he had not yet earned the right to knowledge of, but which initiated the trial. Despite our misgivings and his minimal preparation, he showed admirable courage as he was ushered into the tribulation chamber.
What Ward Chacidski saw in that chamber, no one will ever know. A Shuggoth may assume any mind-shattering form. The Shuggoth we summoned had been allied with our organization for centuries, its sole purpose is to weed out the unworthy within whom the Mark of Cthulhu was either too weak or non-existent to indulge in the most high of the inner mysteries. Those who the Shuggoth determines to be Cthulhu's Chosen become exalted members of the true Cult. As a reward for this service, the Shuggoth is allowed to consume the souls of the unworthy, digesting their essence and enjoying their psychic screams of agony for all eternity.
Ward Chacidski was found wanting.
The lesson of his story is simple but oft ignored. Ignorance is bliss, wisdom is a burden. It is wise to study fire, to nurture and learn from it, but foolhardy to try to embrace it and draw it into one's bosom. Those who assume too much, who fail to exercise patience when reaching for the next rung of the ladder, often find the their hand severed at the wrist.
We can take comfort in knowing that in the end, before madness destroyed his mind and the Shuggoth destroyed his flesh and consumed his soul, his beliefs in the words of the Luminary were affirmed.