King of the Sulphury Void

Reluctantly donning his dark hood, the Rector took up an oil lamp from beside the door, leading the unexpected visitors outside. One of the visitors sniffed the air as, together, they left the stone sanctuary behind them, stepping into an open space ahead; beyond that, lay a dark forest. To follow the path through the lea was mundane for the old rector even amid the tottering shadows of a cloudy moonlight and a flickering lantern. His guests followed apace as the priest contemplated somewhat to himself the extent to which prowess can supplement wisdom. Halting at a gate, the priest turned to face the guests behind him, stifling a gag as he caught a glimpse of their faces. He saw them exchange some understanding through nothing but eye contact. Witnessing such rapport with such an inhuman being afflicted the rector with uncanny and unease. The human agent looked to the priest and nodded. "Enter the cemetery here," said the Priest's bowed head, "do not tarry, the witching hour." As the two guests entered the passage into the tombs, a raven frozen black to a tree branch above cawed at the stars, marking the entrance of the unearthly beings. Then, except for the sound of the Rector's robes ruffling in the wind as he retreated quickly to his quarters, the dark field lay dead silent.