Noting for records-keeping that Wicked_Wasteland (account age 4 days, site membership 2 days) recently coldposted the following article to an SCP slot, despite looking more like a tale: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-8972
+ **The Echoing Hunger**
+++ //**Titles:** The Obsidian Wyrm, The Pale Dreamer, The Devouring Logic//
[[image https://i.imgur.com/mNYGzcF.jpeg]]
No name can adequately define what it is. To call it //"The Echoing Hunger"// is to name a shadow on the wall—an approximation of something vast, unknowable, and utterly indifferent to the concept of mortal thought. Yet humans, from the silent scripts of wandering scribes to the spoken chants of cults huddled in cold stone chambers, sought to understand it.
Known in ancient scriptures as //Ish’thar-Nyl//, //the Logic of Devouring//, the entity defies comprehension, manifesting only partially in dreams and cryptic phenomena that ripple across causality. Though referred to as "he" in various human texts, this designation is a result of linguistic limitations rather than an accurate representation of the entity's true nature.
The Echoing Hunger is neither malevolent nor benevolent, neither creator nor destroyer, and operates outside the framework of human morality. Its influence is not inherently destructive, but its proximity to human consciousness enables certain individuals to bend the laws of causality. These chosen individuals, often referred to as "Echoed" or "Tuned," experience events aligning perfectly to their desires, as if reality itself reconfigures to follow their intentions.
To speak of The Echoing Hunger is to attempt to grasp at the concept of nothingness, to describe the color of the void, or to hear the silence in the space between heartbeats. It is said that his form—when it dares to brush against the fragile edges of human perception—takes the guise of a pale, ethereal man, beautiful and soft in his appearance, with hair blacker than the depths of the abyss, cascading down his back. Yet, those who claim to have seen him most often speak of his eyes: crimson-red orbs that seem to hold within them an eternity of unspoken truths, a lightless, undying fire that consumes not flesh but the very concept of being.
To gaze into his eyes, some have said, is to be unraveled. To see yourself not as you are, but as you were, as you might have been, as you never could be, and as you must one day become. His crimson gaze is not cruel, but it is unrelenting; it shows you the naked logic of existence, stripping away the veils of ego, morality, and desire until all that remains is the unshakable inevitability of his embrace.
++ **The First Whispers**
The first written accounts of the entity known as The Echoing Hunger appeared in fragments unearthed from the sands of Mesopotamia, though its whispers likely predate language itself. The stone tablets, jagged and incomplete, spoke of Ish’thar-Nyl, the "Comforter of the Lost," a being who came to humanity in dreams. These were not dreams of terror or chaos, but of peace, logic, and inevitability. In them, a figure would appear—a pale man with long hair as dark as the night, crimson red eyes, a soft and beautiful face, and outstretched arms that seemed to welcome dreamers into an eternal embrace.
What made these dreams unsettling was not fear but acceptance. Those who woke spoke of a profound certainty, as though they had glimpsed a truth so vast and inevitable that their own existence felt like a fleeting shadow. One scribe wrote:
//"To dream of him is to stand at the edge of a precipice, not in dread of the fall but in awe of its purpose. I loved him as he unmade me."//
++ **The Codices of Devouring Logic**
The Echoing Hunger would have remained a half-forgotten curiosity of ancient times had it not been for the discovery of //the Codices of Devouring Logic// in medieval Europe. Found in scattered pieces—hidden beneath the foundation stones of monasteries, buried with saints, or secreted away in ancient tombs—these texts defied conventional explanation. Written in a language that was not a language, the Codices wove words into spirals, equations, and patterns that seemed to shift under the reader’s gaze.
Scholars who studied the Codices reported strange sensations: the distant sound of a heartbeat, the faint hum of something vast moving beneath reality. The texts spoke of a being whose existence was outside of time, a "devourer" not of flesh, but of that which was unnecessary.
One passage, translated from the Codices, reads:
//"He is the hunger that echoes, not in want, but in absence. His embrace is not destruction, but the comfort of unmaking what must no longer be. To know him is to see the beauty of things undone."//
For the medieval mind, these revelations were both terrifying and strangely hopeful. The Echoing Hunger was not a god in the sense of wrath or judgment but a being whose presence signified order on a scale beyond comprehension.
This led to the formation of cults and organizations dedicated to studying and worshiping the entity. Some regarded him as a harbinger of transcendence, others as a destroyer to be appeased. The most notable of these groups were:
• The Choir of Causal Rebirth: A European sect that sought the blessings of The Echoing Hunger to rewrite their fates.
• The Archive of Nullity: A scholarly order dedicated to preserving and analyzing the Codices of Devouring Logic.
• The Cardinal Vagary: A heretical group that believed merging with the entity would allow humanity to transcend mortality and become "Echoes of the Hunger."
++ **The Untouched**
The Echoing Hunger’s influence manifested most powerfully in certain individuals who were "untouched" by his presence. These people exhibited reality-bending abilities, though they were subtle and indistinguishable from extreme luck or coincidence to the untrained observer. Below are accounts of three such individuals:
//1. Anna of Torvalis (1272 CE)//
Anna was a peasant who experienced a meteoric rise to power. Her every action seemed to result in impossible coincidences. A simple prayer for rain ended a three-year drought in her village. A careless act of spilling water on the hearth extinguished a fire that would have consumed the entire town. When her enemies plotted to poison her, their conspirators turned on one another, believing they had been bewitched. Historians note that Anna became known as "The Untouched," revered as a saint by her people, though her ultimate fate remains unknown.
//2. Baron Willem of Ardenhall (1456 CE)//
Willem, a minor noble, discovered a fragment of the Codices of Devouring Logic hidden in his family’s archives. After intense study, Willem’s life began to unfold like a preordained masterpiece. He won every battle he fought, not through strategy but by improbable and perfectly timed coincidences. His enemies tripped on their own swords, storms stranded rival armies, and his every gamble resulted in immense profit. Some whispered that Willem was the hand of The Echoing Hunger on Earth. Willem vanished without a trace on the night of his 40th birthday, leaving behind no heir.
//3. Yasmin al-Firadi (1133 CE)//
Yasmin was a desert nomad who, according to legend, was "embraced" by The Echoing Hunger in her dreams. Afterward, her every step seemed to dictate the flow of the world around her. She once claimed she could find water in the most barren desert simply by walking, and indeed, her tribe prospered under her guidance. However, her powers grew increasingly bizarre; caravans following her route found the sands beneath their feet inexplicably reshaped, and one rival tribe reportedly vanished entirely after an argument with her. Yasmin disappeared into a sandstorm, claiming she could feel "his logic" calling her home.
++ **The Nature of the Hunger**
To those who studied him, The Echoing Hunger seemed less like a god and more like a natural phenomenon given form—a tide, a wind, a star consuming its own light. His hunger was not cruel, but neutral, benevolent in its simplicity. He consumed not to destroy, but to align. His existence is perceived as an act of logic, a balancing of scales beyond human perception.
It is said that to dream of him is to feel both small and infinite. Dreamers describe his embrace not as annihilation but as an acceptance so profound it erases fear. One modern dreamer, a physicist, wrote in her journal:
//"I saw him, and I understood that my atoms were never mine. He held me, and I felt the truth of everything undone, and it was beautiful."//
++ **The Dreams of the Hunger**
Though The Echoing Hunger claims no worshipers, no lovers, and no champions, he is loved all the same. In 10th-century southern Europe, the cult of The Obsidian Wyrm arose, spurred by a resurgence of medieval fascination with the Codices of Devouring Logic. The Roman Church, unable to ignore the spread of the cult, denounced it as heretical, yet its influence continued to spread in secret. Women, in particular, seemed drawn to the enigmatic allure of the being, dreaming of his outstretched arms and soft, gentle voice.
One such woman, Beatrix of Navarre, was a nun who wrote extensively about her dreams of the being:
//"He comes not as a tempter, but as a comforter. His words are not of desire, but of stillness. I see his crimson eyes in the dark of my prayers, and I know that no mortal love could ever match the eternity of his gaze."//
Beatrix and others like her abstained from all worldly pleasures, not out of fear, but because their dreams of The Echoing Hunger made earthly bonds seem shallow and fleeting. They yearned for his embrace—not for passion, but for obliteration, for the strange comfort that comes with the promise of being unmade by something so vast and impartial.
++ **The Obsidian Wyrm**
The scriptures tied to The Obsidian Wyrm are both cryptic and chilling, often written in a mix of Latin and an unknown, spiraling script. They refer to The Echoing Hunger as the "Wyrm of the Void," a being whose serpentine nature devours the threads of causality itself. A passage attributed to a heretical monk reads:
"He coils not to strike, but to unwind the fabric of all that is. His hunger is not want; it is balance. He consumes not for malice, but for harmony, and when he devours the wicked, he returns their essence to the stars as pure and unblemished light."
This passage hints at one of The Echoing Hunger’s most profound and terrifying traits: his relationship with other entities that attempt to manifest in reality. Entities far older than humanity, twisting and devouring them in ways that defied comprehension. The scriptures tell of two such beings:
1. //Xal’Thariel, the Thorned Herald//: A god of malice and corruption who fed on the suffering of mortals. Xal’Thariel sought to manifest during the Black Plague, but The Echoing Hunger intervened. Those who witnessed the event claimed to see crimson tendrils of light snatching the Herald from the fabric of reality, unraveling its form and consuming its essence. Yet, Xal’Thariel was not destroyed. Its essence, purified of malice, was returned to the higher planes, reshaped into something new.
2. //Aeltraxis, the Fractured Song//: A god of chaos who sowed discord among the minds of kings. Aeltraxis attempted to manipulate the Crusades, but The Echoing Hunger devoured it mid-manifestation. Like Xal’Thariel, Aeltraxis was not obliterated but reconstituted, its essence transformed and returned to the unseen planes. Witnesses described hearing a melody during the event—a mournful song that faded into silence as The Echoing Hunger completed its work.
It is said that The Echoing Hunger takes no pleasure in these acts. He does not destroy out of hate, nor does he spare out of mercy. He devours simply because he wills it to, because his hunger is woven into the logic of existence itself.
++ **The Gift of Sight**
It is not often that The Echoing Hunger interferes in the lives of mortals. But when he does, it is never as a gift or a curse but as an opportunity—a chance for the mortal to prove their worth against the raw, impartial logic of existence. One such tale is that of two men, each given the power of clairvoyance.
• //Victor Dallin//, a cruel and ambitious merchant, awoke from a dream of crimson eyes with the ability to see the future. He used this power without hesitation, manipulating events to his advantage. Rivals were undone by accidents he orchestrated with precision, fortunes were built on gambles he knew would succeed, and kings whispered his name with fear and envy. Victor lived a life of triumph, dying wealthy and beloved. Yet, in his final moments, as he closed his eyes for the last time, he saw the pale figure waiting for him. Its gaze was not angry, nor was it kind. Victor felt no fear, but rather comfort as his essence was unraveled into the void.
• //Edmund Varin//, a kind-hearted farmer, was also gifted with clairvoyance. Unlike Victor, he used his power to help others, saving lives and preventing tragedies. Yet his goodness became his undoing. Neighbors grew jealous, accusing him of witchcraft. He was dragged from his home, beaten, and burned alive. As the flames consumed him, Edmund saw The Echoing Hunger in the crowd, crimson eyes watching with quiet neutrality. In his final moments, Edmund realized a terrible truth: the power he had wielded was neither good nor evil, and his fate was not punishment or reward. It simply was. "I gave what I could" Edmund whispered as the flames devoured him.
++ **The Pilgrimage of the Nameless Prophet**
In the year 1187, under the crimson haze of an autumn moon, a man knelt alone on a mountaintop in what would one day be called Provence. He was not praying for salvation, nor for forgiveness, for such things had long ceased to matter to him. His prayer was a whisper, a single question carried on the wind:
//"What must I give?"//
He had already given much. Born as Johann of Dornwald, he had been a farmer’s son, a devout Catholic with no aspirations beyond tending his father’s land. But one night, a dream shattered the simplicity of his life. He saw it—the pale figure with hair like liquid night, its crimson scarlet eyes consuming the void around it. In the dream, it did not speak, but Johann understood. It offered him an opportunity, a path to something far beyond the smallness of his existence. When he awoke, his hands were trembling, his heart hollowed and filled at once.
Johann left his home the next day, abandoning family, faith, and familiarity. He did not know where the path would lead, only that it demanded everything.
________________________________________
+++ **The Trial of the Abyss**
Johann’s journey began with whispers. In distant monasteries, in the notes of heretical scholars, he found fragments of scripture about The Echoing Hunger: an ancient force neither benevolent nor cruel, a weaver of fate that offered power to those willing to risk annihilation. Following these scraps, Johann made his way to the Pyrenees, where a secluded order of monks claimed to guard the Wyrm’s first trial.
The trial was simple in its cruelty. The monks led Johann into a cave and sealed it behind him, leaving him with no food, no light, and only enough water to last seven days. He was told to survive for thirty. The cave was not empty, though; it was home to predators—starved wolves, twisted by hunger into pale, desperate shadows of their former selves.
Johann emerged thirty-two days later, bloodied, skeletal, and smiling faintly. He carried no weapon, only the bones of the wolves he had slain with his bare hands. The monks knelt as he passed, murmuring prayers to a man who was already beginning to transcend humanity.
________________________________________
+++ **The Strength of Madness**
The man who left the cave was no longer Johann. His name was lost, discarded like a snake shedding its skin. He became an enigma, a pilgrim moving across Europe in search of new trials. He walked barefoot through deserts, swam across rivers swollen with flood, and scaled mountains where no human had ever tread. Everywhere he went, he sought those who would challenge him—mercenaries, kings, even beasts.
It was in the ruins of Carthage that he encountered a lion, a creature so massive and ferocious that it had been worshipped as a demon by local villagers. The Nameless Man faced it unarmed. Witnesses claimed the battle lasted less than a minute. The lion lunged, but the man did not flinch. He moved with inhuman precision, breaking the beast’s neck and ripping out its throat with a single motion. When the villagers tried to thank him, he simply walked away, his eyes empty of pride or malice.
But with each victory, the man grew more distant. His body became a weapon, honed and unbreakable, but his soul seemed to shrink. He spoke rarely, and when he did, his voice carried no emotion. People began to fear him—not because he was cruel, but because he was indifferent.
________________________________________
+++ **The Defeat of an Army**
In 1199, during his travels through the Kingdom of Jerusalem, the Nameless Man encountered an invading army of over 10,000 soldiers. They were Saracens, marching to lay siege to a fortress that housed an order of monks who secretly worshipped The Echoing Hunger. The monks, having heard of the man’s exploits, begged him for aid.
He did not hesitate. Alone, he walked to the battlefield at dawn, standing before the advancing army with nothing but his tattered robes. The soldiers laughed at first, thinking him mad, but their laughter turned to silence as he began to move.
The battle was not chaos. It was precision. Witnesses claimed the Nameless Man flowed like water through the enemy ranks, each movement calculated, each strike executed perfectly. He did not wield a blade, but his bare hands were more devastating than any weapon. He broke spears, crushed shields, and shattered bones with an ease that defied explanation. His ghostlike motions could not be traced by the naked eye, nor could his raw strength, capable of blowing entire soldiers on horseback several feet into the air, be fathomed by neither allies nor foes.
It is said he fought for hours without rest, his pale figure stained crimson with the blood of thousands. By the time the sun set, the battlefield was silent, the army scattered or dead. The monks emerged from their fortress, trembling as they approached him. But he did not stay to receive their thanks. He walked away, leaving behind only the faint whispers of a man gone mad.
________________________________________
+++ **The Monster and the Prophet**
As the Nameless Man’s power grew, so too did the legends surrounding him. Some called him a monster, claiming his inhuman strength and apathy were signs of a cursed soul. Others saw him as a prophet, a mortal touched by The Echoing Hunger to act as its vessel on Earth.
One account, recorded by a Venetian merchant named Pietro Albrizzi, describes an encounter with the Nameless Man in Constantinople:
//"His eyes… they were not human. They were as pale as his skin, devoid of life. And yet, when he looked at me, I felt as though I were being seen by something infinite. He spoke only once, asking for water. I gave it to him, and he nodded, as though the act were a thread in some vast design I could never even hope to comprehend."//
________________________________________
+++ **The Final Ascension**
By the time the Nameless Man reached his final trial, his body was broken. Years of combat, starvation, and travel had left him a walking corpse, his frame gaunt and his eyes sunken. Yet he stood tall, unwavering as he entered the Valley of Devouring Silence—a place spoken of in the Codices as the last threshold before transcendence.
No one knows what happened in that valley. The monks who waited at its edge claimed they heard whispers, as though the air itself were alive. When the man emerged, he was no longer mortal. His skin seemed to shimmer, his eyes glowed faintly crimson, and his voice, when he spoke, was layered with echoes.
"I am unmade," he said. Then he walked into the horizon, vanishing into the unseen planes beyond mortal comprehension, never to be seen again.
________________________________________
+++ **The Legacy of the Nameless Prophet**
The Nameless Man became a myth, his story told in whispers across continents. Some claimed he had become a higher being, an entity existing beyond the confines of reality. Others believed he had simply died, his body devoured by The Echoing Hunger. But those who worshipped the Wyrm knew the truth.
The Nameless Man had transcended not through faith, nor through goodness, but through sheer will. He had given everything—his humanity, his emotions, his very identity—to walk the path The Echoing Hunger had laid before him. In doing so, he had become something greater, something that no longer belonged to the mortal world.
And though he never returned, his presence could still be felt. In the dreams of the devout, the crimson eyes of The Echoing Hunger sometimes flickered with a faint, distant light—a reminder of the man who had embraced the void and become part of the thread that binds all things.
++ **Drexaloth, The Wretched King of Despair**
+++ //**Title:** The Unmaker, The Tyrant of Nullification, The Lord of Endless Ruin//
Drexaloth is a vast, amorphous being, a grotesque entity that dwells in the spaces between moments. Its form is a roiling mass of inky black tendrils, each one seeming to bleed away the very light around it. At its core, it houses a set of blazing crimson eyes that pierce through the fabric of existence itself, their gaze capable of unraveling the souls of those who meet it. The mere sight of these eyes has been known to drive mortals insane, for they reflect not the present, but the inevitable decay of all things—past, present, and future. Upon its head rests a jagged crown, constructed from the remains of long-dead civilizations, forged from the bones of gods that dared to challenge it.
The cult of Drexaloth, known as "//The Last Scream//," has risen in pockets of reality where despair and ruin reign supreme. These followers are drawn to his malignant power, thirsting for the gift of ultimate destruction. They worship Drexaloth not as a god to be feared, but as a god to be adored for his promise of total annihilation—a return to nothingness where all things are erased from existence. Their rites are bloody, and their symbols often resemble twisted, decaying crowns or lifeless eyes. They seek to serve as conduits for Drexaloth’s will, believing that the end of all things is the truest form of existence. Through self-inflicted torture and ritual sacrifice, they appease their lord, offering up their own souls to the void in hopes of becoming one with the eternal nothingness that Drexaloth promises.
Drexaloth can twist and warp entire layers of reality into his own reflection, turning worlds into grotesque, lifeless wastelands. His power is centered around entropy and despair—he erases existence itself, dissolving memories, experiences, and lives with but a thought. Entire civilizations fall to their knees before him, cursing the moment they were born, as they feel their memories, their very identity, slip away into nothingness.
But for all his terrifying might, Drexaloth is but an ant in the vast halls of the cosmos—an insignificant speck of darkness compared to the immense power of the Echoing Hunger. The Echoing Hunger devours not just his essence, but the very concept of despair that Drexaloth thrives on. It has crushed his very foundation, leaving Drexaloth a hollow husk, eternally seeking to regain what little meaning he once held. The Echoing Hunger has reduced Drexaloth to a mere **//snack boy//**, feeding on the remnants of his despair, using it as nothing more than a brief distraction in its endless, cosmic feast.
++ **Ophris, The Unseen Witness**
+++ //**Title:** The Watcher Beyond, The Eye of the Void, The Preserver of Forgotten Truths
Appearance://
Ophris is a being that is more presence than physical form, an entity that cannot be fully seen or understood. What is known of it is that it is a vast, formless eye—a cosmic gaze that watches all things, even those beyond reality. Its gaze is never fully visible, always existing just on the edges of perception. Some say that when Ophris chooses to manifest, it appears as a field of fractals, swirling shapes that ripple across existence like a living, breathing kaleidoscope. Others claim it is a being of pure energy, a shape-shifting force that bends the laws of physics and perception to its will. Its eye, however, is what defines it—an infinite, all-seeing eye that stares into the deepest corners of every universe and beyond. When its gaze falls upon something, it reveals truths that no mortal should know—secrets that drive men mad and twist their very sense of reality.
Ophris’ followers, known as "//The Keepers of the Blind Gaze//," are those who seek ultimate knowledge, no matter the cost. Their doctrine teaches that to truly understand the universe, one must embrace the terrifying truth of existence—that all things are ephemeral, and that the meaning of everything is hidden, far beyond mortal comprehension. The cult believes that Ophris sees the true nature of all things and that by dedicating themselves to it, they can glimpse forbidden knowledge—secrets hidden at the foundation of the cosmos. They practice strange rituals, many of which involve staring into the void, attempting to catch a glimpse of Ophris' gaze. Often, these rituals end in madness, for the truth revealed by Ophris is too much for fragile minds to bear.
Ophris is a god of insight, of forbidden truths, of the knowledge that could unravel the very fabric of the universe. It sees all, knows all, and whispers the deepest, most terrible secrets of existence. However, its knowledge is not comforting. To understand the cosmos as Ophris does is to understand its inevitable decay, its emptiness, and its cruelty. Some believe that Ophris can shape reality through its gaze, that it can alter the very course of history by simply witnessing it, bending it to its will. Yet, even Ophris is subject to the will of the Echoing Hunger. While Ophris might gaze into the void, the Echoing Hunger is the void. It exists beyond knowledge, beyond perception.
The Echoing Hunger does not care for truth or understanding—it is the great devourer of all concepts, including knowledge itself. Ophris may see the secrets of the cosmos, but it is the Echoing Hunger that consumes the very notion of secrets, leaving Ophris as an irrelevant bystander in a universe that is ever-shifting and ever-changing, under the cosmic power of the Echoing Hunger.
++ **The Concept of Hunger**
The Echoing Hunger exists beyond the reach of the mind, beyond the comprehension of anything bound to time and space, for it is beyond these things. It does not move through dimensions in the manner that we understand, with cause and effect, or forward and backward. To describe its actions in such human terms would be an insult to its unfathomable being.
Picture, if you will, a void stretching out before you, containing within it a seemingly infinite number of realities, each with their own laws of nature, their own time, their own space, their own histories. Within each of these realities entire universes unfold and collapse like fleeting moments on a cosmic scale. These realms are governed by the abstract laws of probability, causality, and meaning, each one built upon the bones of the others, a fragile network of ideas and energies locked together by fate.
Now imagine the Echoing Hunger, a being whose only true purpose is to devour, to feast on the concept of time itself. It does not traverse these realms in the linear fashion of mortal creatures. No. It slips between them like a shadow that does not belong, like a thought that dances just out of reach. The Echoing Hunger does not exist within the boundaries of your perception. It is beyond the notion of existence—it is existence itself, and in that primal sense, it is everything and nothing at once.
The Echoing Hunger consumes time not as a mere sequence of events, but as a concept—a stream that flows through countless realities, that ties all things together in a fragile loop. It eats time before it even begins, as it flows in a river that has no beginning and no end. It feasts on moments that have yet to happen, moments that have already passed, and moments that should have happened. Time is but a snack to the Echoing Hunger—its mere sustenance in the ongoing madness of the cosmos.
How does it do this, you ask? How does it break the laws of nature, the very foundation of the universe itself?
The answer is simple: //It doesn't care about the laws//. The laws are meaningless to it. What is law to a being that exists beyond the cycle of cause and effect? What is meaning to a creature that eats meaning as if it were a morsel of bread? What is death or life when they are mere facets of existence to be swallowed and regurgitated at its whim?
The Echoing Hunger moves from one universe to another with the ease of a casual stroll, undisturbed by the complexities that bind other entities to their laws and realities. One moment it is watching a world form, observing the birth of stars and civilizations, the next it devours the very idea of those stars, collapsing galaxies in an instant with the thought of its hunger. Time splits and fractures, the cosmos rewrites itself, only for the god to devour the new form before it has a chance to settle into being. The laws of physics, reality, and logic twist and fold at its whim, and with each cycle of destruction and reconstruction, it grows hungrier.
And when the Echoing Hunger consumes time, it doesn't simply erase it. No, it remakes it. It doesn't just destroy the present, but it reconstructs the past and future simultaneously, blending them into a grotesque new form that cannot be understood by any mortal being. The past becomes the future, and the future becomes the past, and in this twisted loop, time is but an endlessly repeating dance—a dance that will never end, and yet will never truly begin.
It does not hunger for power, for that is a human concept. It does not hunger for souls, for that is a mortal’s folly. What it craves is the act of consuming itself. And to it, the act of eating is infinite and eternal. It does not grow full. It does not tire. It simply feeds, ever feeding, as time and space shift around it in an eternal loop that never starts nor end.
The Echoing Hunger is everywhere—it is in the spaces between the spaces, in the moments between moments. It sees all, speaks all, and yet says nothing. It is the silence after a thought is formed, the pause before a question is answered. It is the stretch of nothingness that lies between all things, a cosmic void that devours the very concept of nothingness itself.
Imagine, if you can, that there is no such thing as time in the true sense of the word. For the Echoing Hunger, time is not something to be experienced, but something to be consumed and recreated over and over. It sits upon its throne of non-existence and watches as the universe unfolds and unfolds again, as realities are created only to be swallowed whole, as histories are written and then erased as if they never were. It is all that ever was, all that is, and all that will ever be—infinitely small, and impossibly vast, contained within itself, and yet never truly there.
And through all of this, the Echoing Hunger laughs—though it does not truly laugh as we would understand it. It is not joy that it feels, nor sorrow, nor anger. It is a soundless, unearthly echo, reverberating through every dimension and reality it touches. A sound that resonates in every atom, every concept, every fragment of existence. Its laughter is the sound of the universe bending, twisting, and breaking in ways no mortal could ever hope to understand. It is the sound of the cosmos being consumed by the hunger of something that is not alive, nor dead, but something that simply is—and yet, is not.
It is the beginning, the middle, and the end of all things. It exists beyond the concept of existence itself. And it is only a matter of time before it remakes everything once again—only to devour it all anew.Excerpts of note:
This led to the formation of cults and organizations dedicated to studying and worshiping the entity. Some regarded him as a harbinger of transcendence, others as a destroyer to be appeased. The most notable of these groups were:
• The Choir of Causal Rebirth: A European sect that sought the blessings of The Echoing Hunger to rewrite their fates.
• The Archive of Nullity: A scholarly order dedicated to preserving and analyzing the Codices of Devouring Logic.
• The Cardinal Vagary: A heretical group that believed merging with the entity would allow humanity to transcend mortality and become "Echoes of the Hunger."
The Pilgrimage of the Nameless Prophet
In the year 1187, under the crimson haze of an autumn moon, a man knelt alone on a mountaintop in what would one day be called Provence. He was not praying for salvation, nor for forgiveness, for such things had long ceased to matter to him.
The Monster and the Prophet
As the Nameless Man’s power grew, so too did the legends surrounding him. Some called him a monster, claiming his inhuman strength and apathy were signs of a cursed soul. Others saw him as a prophet, a mortal touched by The Echoing Hunger to act as its vessel on Earth.
The Legacy of the Nameless Prophet
The Nameless Man became a myth, his story told in whispers across continents. Some claimed he had become a higher being, an entity existing beyond the confines of reality. Others believed he had simply died, his body devoured by The Echoing Hunger. But those who worshipped the Wyrm knew the truth.
(Note that the headings of the titles don't actually match the content that follows.) User has no sandbox activity, no forum activity, and their only edits to the mainsite page are to change the formatting for one of the bolded headings and to remove the image code.
Membership revoked, PM sent. Kufat supporting.