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Description
From the casebook of Charles Wyndham Ashby, Investigator of the Strange

November 12, 1920

Location: Exingham Priory, Sussex

Subject: Skolekopsid Summoning

“I had the dubious pleasure of attending a house party at Exingham Priory, an ancient sprawling country house nestled in the wilds of Sussex. The pile is owned by an acquaintance of mine, one William Calverley, 1st Baron Exingham, a man of eccentric tastes and scholarly pursuits. I would not usually attend such a gathering, but Lord Calverley's reputation as a fellow student of the esoteric arts piqued my curiosity.

As the evening drew on, it became apparent that this was no ordinary social event. The guests had been drawn together by a common thread - we had all experienced the sinister allure of Ptoliboros, the alien ur-city that exists outside space and time. There was an unspoken understanding among us, like those who have been to war and returned, forever marked by experiences that others cannot understand. Then Lord Calverley revealed the true purpose of the gathering: we were to engage in a ritual to summon a Skolekopsid, an entity from Ptoliboros possessing vast learning and a godlike intellect.

I cautioned against it, but Lord Calverley would not be dissuaded. Having never encountered a Skolekopsid myself, I had only heard whispered tales of those who had, their quest for enlightenment leading to madness or worse.

Our host beckoned us outside into the bleak November night. Some, wisely, chose not to follow. Others, like myself, displayed a regrettable lack of good sense and agreed to bear witness to this ill-advised experiment. Lord Calverley led us through the moonlit gardens until we arrived at a secluded grove, where an altar of ancient stones awaited the culmination of his carefully planned ritual.

As the ritual unfolded, the grove underwent a sinister transformation, corrupting energies from Ptoliboros seeping into our world. The ground trembled beneath our feet, a low rumble that seemed to echo the growing power of the ritual. A grotesque mound of roots and earth emerged - a sickeningly gravid swell that convulsed and, with a guttural groan, birthed something wondrous and terrifying.

The Skolekopsid was a huge winged entity, almost angelic in appearance. Angelic, but not in the way Renaissance artists would have you believe; this thing was monstrous and bizarre, like something from the Book of Ezekiel.

Its single eye, cold and dark like a dead star, regarded us with detached curiosity, as one might scrutinise a specimen under a microscope, dissecting our thoughts and emotions with clinical precision.

Images from my past resurfaced in vivid detail: the haunting echoes of trench warfare, the crack of willow meeting leather on the cricket field, the tender embrace of first love, the somber dirge of my brother's funeral procession. Its presence in my mind was both exhilarating and deeply unsettling.

In the span of those moments, I caught glimpses of the vast expanse of the Skolekopsid's existence - a journey spanning universes and epochs, accumulating experiences beyond the scope of human reckoning. The entity was a paradox, possessing both unfathomable knowledge and an unsettling disregard for the consequences of its pursuit. I witnessed it and others of its kind inflict unspeakable suffering on other sentient beings in the name of experimentation and obliterate entire civilisations in pursuit of answers to philosophical questions.

I could see the horror of the Skolekopsid’s revelations etched in the stricken faces of my fellow guests. Screams pierced the air and some appeared catatonic, driven to the brink of madness. Even proud Lord Calverley was on his knees, weeping and muttering desperate prayers. With great difficulty, I performed a counter-summoning ritual, invoking the ancient rites that would banish the entity back to Ptoliboros.

The Skolekopsid was violently wrenched away from our world, leaving behind a lingering sense of dread and disbelief. The grove fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by the ragged breaths and trembling sobs of those who had borne witness to the otherworldly horrors.

As I pen these words, I am left with a lingering sense of disquiet. The Skolekopsid's gaze, the revelations it brought and the devastation it left in its wake are a chilling reminder of the perils that lie in wait for those who dare to tread the path of forbidden knowledge.”

Created using Midjourney, Canva and Krita

A companion piece to Summoning Gone Wrong

Description
From the casebook of Charles Wyndham Ashby, Investigator of the Strange

November 12, 1920

Location: Exingham Priory, Sussex

Subject: Skolekopsid Summoning

“I had the dubious pleasure of attending a house party at Exingham Priory, an ancient sprawling country house nestled in the wilds of Sussex. The pile is owned by an acquaintance of mine, one William Calverley, 1st Baron Exingham, a man of eccentric tastes and scholarly pursuits. I would not usually attend such a gathering, but Lord Calverley's reputation as a fellow student of the esoteric arts piqued my curiosity.

As the evening drew on, it became apparent that this was no ordinary social event. The guests had been drawn together by a common thread - we had all experienced the sinister allure of Ptoliboros, the alien ur-city that exists outside space and time. There was an unspoken understanding among us, like those who have been to war and returned, forever marked by experiences that others cannot understand. Then Lord Calverley revealed the true purpose of the gathering: we were to engage in a ritual to summon a Skolekopsid, an entity from Ptoliboros possessing vast learning and a godlike intellect.

I cautioned against it, but Lord Calverley would not be dissuaded. Having never encountered a Skolekopsid myself, I had only heard whispered tales of those who had, their quest for enlightenment leading to madness or worse.

Our host beckoned us outside into the bleak November night. Some, wisely, chose not to follow. Others, like myself, displayed a regrettable lack of good sense and agreed to bear witness to this ill-advised experiment. Lord Calverley led us through the moonlit gardens until we arrived at a secluded grove, where an altar of ancient stones awaited the culmination of his carefully planned ritual.

As the ritual unfolded, the grove underwent a sinister transformation, corrupting energies from Ptoliboros seeping into our world. The ground trembled beneath our feet, a low rumble that seemed to echo the growing power of the ritual. A grotesque mound of roots and earth emerged - a sickeningly gravid swell that convulsed and, with a guttural groan, birthed something wondrous and terrifying.

The Skolekopsid was a huge winged entity, almost angelic in appearance. Angelic, but not in the way Renaissance artists would have you believe; this thing was monstrous and bizarre, like something from the Book of Ezekiel.

Its single eye, cold and dark like a dead star, regarded us with detached curiosity, as one might scrutinise a specimen under a microscope, dissecting our thoughts and emotions with clinical precision.

Images from my past resurfaced in vivid detail: the haunting echoes of trench warfare, the crack of willow meeting leather on the cricket field, the tender embrace of first love, the somber dirge of my brother's funeral procession. Its presence in my mind was both exhilarating and deeply unsettling.

In the span of those moments, I caught glimpses of the vast expanse of the Skolekopsid's existence - a journey spanning universes and epochs, accumulating experiences beyond the scope of human reckoning. The entity was a paradox, possessing both unfathomable knowledge and an unsettling disregard for the consequences of its pursuit. I witnessed it and others of its kind inflict unspeakable suffering on other sentient beings in the name of experimentation and obliterate entire civilisations in pursuit of answers to philosophical questions.

I could see the horror of the Skolekopsid’s revelations etched in the stricken faces of my fellow guests. Screams pierced the air and some appeared catatonic, driven to the brink of madness. Even proud Lord Calverley was on his knees, weeping and muttering desperate prayers. With great difficulty, I performed a counter-summoning ritual, invoking the ancient rites that would banish the entity back to Ptoliboros.

The Skolekopsid was violently wrenched away from our world, leaving behind a lingering sense of dread and disbelief. The grove fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by the ragged breaths and trembling sobs of those who had borne witness to the otherworldly horrors.

As I pen these words, I am left with a lingering sense of disquiet. The Skolekopsid's gaze, the revelations it brought and the devastation it left in its wake are a chilling reminder of the perils that lie in wait for those who dare to tread the path of forbidden knowledge.”

Created using Midjourney, Canva and Krita

A companion piece to Summoning Gone Wrong