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Foreword

This article will not follow a typical narration, and will instead take the form of a poem written by Hastur. This is to better reflect the incomprehensibility of The Hanged King. I hope this clears up some things. Also, it's a bit NSFW, as there is gore.

Happy reading,

-Nyarlathotep

An excerpt from Hastur's journal

In a land beyond land

Where all is black, yellow, red, and tan

Is where I met his horrifying hand

The Old Man is your only friend in this land of masks.

Though they seem to be like men,

those creature drink blood from their flasks

The castle seems to be mostly safe.

No guards to bribe, entrance is free.

But be warned, for if The Ambassador sees you,

you will soon meet insanity

You will be dragged into the throne room

and be forced to see the ruler of this land.

If not for me already being mad,

my life would have been taken by now using my two hands.

The Ambassador looked at me,

his stare as cold as ice.

He twisted my body in terrifying ways,

me eating my organs seemed to suffice.

Then he went up to The Hanged King,

Impaled on his royal throne,

and he lifted up the king's hair from his eye.

That stare made me realize how much I was truly alone.

If my faith were like that of the Egyptians or Rome,

then I would have believed he had reached apotheosis,

The emaciated ruler of this land

screaming as his corpse slowly turns back to sand

Realizing the things I had seen, I ran

But before I could leave, The Ambassador stopped me

and spoke into my ear

The noises he made, I didn't recognize, but the meaning was all to clear.

He wishes to spread his former body's influence,

Something I cannot let him do.

I plan to seal myself away in Alagadda

with this "Hanged King", too.

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