J&L: Emissary of the Eldritch (7)

HGJ: "Howie? Howie? We've got to get moving lad!"

HP: "But I haven't gotten my toffee apple yet."

HGJ: "Confound your confections, there are unsavoury amphibians approaching, so we need to get you to safety."

HP: "The frogmen?"

HGJ: "The very coves. Now come along Howie."

PGL: "Agreed. But we're not leaving the way we came. The fiends are approaching from behind us, and beside us."

HGJ: "The way ahead is clear though, if we push through the stalls. We're fortunate that they're shambling so slowly."

PGL: "I'd surmise they're uncomfortable in the light. You go on ahead and keep young Howard safe."

HGJ: "But, what about you George?"

PGL: "Somebody has to distract our pursuers. Besides, I have a plan."

HGJ: "We can't just abandon you."

PGL: "You won't be, it's just a strategic relocation. I'll be fine, Henry. I reason that these frogmen are here for the boy, so they'll give up if he gets away. I hope."

HGJ: "Stay safe, Litefoot, and I'll aim to meet you at your abode tonight. Come along, Howie."

*footsteps fade away as Jago and Howard flee.*

PGL: "You too, old chap. Now, just because I'm alone doesn't mean I'm unarmed. In fact, Jago's childhood reminiscing gave me just the idea. Sir, I'm going to need to buy all the fireworks in your stock."

Seller: "You what?"

PGL: "All of them, please. Right now."

***

*a carriage rattles along cobbled streets*

HP: "Will Litefoot be okay?"

HGJ: "Don't worry, my boy. It'll take more than some feckless fish to finish off the fearless Professor! He'll pull through."

HP: "I hope so, because it's all my fault."

HGJ: "Nonsense, Howie."

HP: "But it is. He was right, the frogmen are coming for me. They must have taken momma too. It's all because of me."

HGJ: "You're not to blame, Howie. Now, I don't know why they've decided to chase you, or what malevolent machinations they have planned, but I know one thing. All the blame lies with them. You're not responsible for the acts of sinister forces. You're a victim, merely a symptom of the rotten disease that makes men do terrible things."

HP: "I suppose so."

HGJ: "Good lad. Now, I know just the thing to get your mind off of such unpleasantness, a trip to the theatre!"

***

*a creature speaks in a hideous, sibilant gurgle, in a language long dead*

Hooded Man: "Incompetent fools! I expected better from Acolytes of the Absence. He's just a child, how hard can it be?! No matter, no matter, there is time to try again, perhaps you may fare better under cover of darkness. Away with you, I must prepare for the next stage of the plan."

***

PGL: "Professor Fenchurch, I presume."

PAF: "Please, as one professor to another, call me Alistair. Sorry to have kept you waiting, George, I had a devil's time getting past Regent's Park this morning. Apparently some cretin set off an entire stall's worth of fireworks at once."

PGL: "*Ahem* Yes, well, there are all sorts about these days. By all accounts the perpetrator managed to slip away through the chaos. Quite shocking, I know."

PAF: "You know, I wouldn't be surprised if it was the work of disgruntled Fenians. But enough politics George, you came here on a quest, did you not?"

PGL: "Hardly anything so adventurous, Alistair. I reached out to you for help with something of a research project I'm working on."

PAF: "Indeed, but I fail to see how a man of medicine would require the opinion of a historian and scholar. Unless of course, it pertains to a particularly cold case."

PGL: "Very droll. Consider this research a hobby of sorts. You see, I've come across the name 'Valgthoth' referenced in a number of places recently, but I've been unable to find much tangible information on the subject. I was hoping you may have some answers for me?"

PAF: "Valgthoth... hmm, nothing comes to mind immediately, but there are quite a number of Sumerian deities on record, and even more yet to be catalogued. I believe I have a tome here somewhere that might jog my memories... I'm sorry, it's a niche subject, please indulge my curiosity... how did you come across this name?"

PGL: "I fear you may think me delusional if I give you the full account."

PAF: "Try me, I have something of an open mind."

PGL: "The name came to me in a dream, yet it was like no dream I've ever experienced before. It all felt so tangible, somehow, and I've been unable to shake the name from my mind since. You must think me insane."

PAF: "A vision? I confess, under any other circumstance I would assume you were jesting, but... yes... there is a reference to a Valgthoth in this book. How curious."

PGL: "I must have heard the name elsewhere, of course, for it to rattle around my subconscious."

PAF: "Most likely. It says here that Valgthoth has many names, The Absent Abyssal, the Lord of Nothingness, the Oldest One. There's really not much text here, and few additional references. I'm not sure how helpful I can be."

PGL: "Please, anything you can add would be most appreciated."

PAF: "Very well. Officially, Valgthoth isn't a god of any particular ancient pantheon, more of a peripheral figure common to multiple religions. Most polytheistic gods represent an aspect of nature, like the sun, or fertility. Most have icons of good or evil. But very few have a personification of Nothing. Existence through Absence."

PGL: "You mean, how a hole exists as a physical construct, when itself is only a gap, a lack of something?"

PAF: "Yes! Exactly! And so Valgthoth is a mythical being, who predates all life, all matter, all energy. He is what never was, and was worshiped by those who seek a purity through oblivion."

PGL: "Well, that sounds ominous."

PAF: "It's all superstition of course. But followers of Valgthoth believed that the world, the universe, life itself was a chaotic mess. Full of crude matter and impure emotion. They believed in a rite that could bring Valgthoth into our world, and wished for him to use his power to obliterate all that is impure."

PGL: "If his followers were so fatalistic, it's no wonder there's little record of Valgthoth left to discover."

PAF: "You know, that destructive rite sounds vaguely familiar. I know a chap, runs an antique bookshop not far from here, he's something of a hoarder of arcane and archaic texts, as he likes to say. I seem to recall once hearing him mention a book bound in flesh and inked in blood, that he claimed had profane secrets. If you can believe such a claim!"

PGL: "As you say, it's all superstition. However, could I possibly have his address? My academic curiosity has been stoked."

PAF: "Not so fast! You've hooked me in now, and I can't let you have all the fun. Come along, I'll take you to him. Besides, you'll be glad of the company. He's something of an acquired taste."

PGL: "I can hardly resist, given how helpful you've been. Lead on then, Alistair."