(or The Tale of the Painting, and the blasphemous vista it portrayed)

Translated by Dr. Vincent Belmont, GBUKGS and Dr. Fritz V. Baugh, GBWC. Transcribed by Benjamin King, GBUK

Supplement to GBI Case File GBI-2004-22/001
It is the year of our lord, Nineteen-hundred and Twenty-Nine, the day is July Seventeenth of that year, and I fear for my life. As I record this testament, I can feel the pulse of ancient evils at work...

It is hard to fathom, that barely a week before, I had been happy and content with my life as a successful practitioner of law and part-time artist...but fate dealt me a gruesome, blood soaked card...a fate from which I may never return...

I lived in New York City, a busy shipping city which would arguably fight with Boston and London as commercial shipping centre of our vast world. I dwelt in a large penthouse flat, overlooking the spanse of forest commonly known as Central Park. Settled but one street from a recently finished apartment complex, which dwarfed even the tallest of office constructions in the city, a temple atop which now sends a shiver down my spine...I shall never again willingly allow my eyes to wander onto the gothic spanse of number 550 Central Park West. But lo, this is not what I set out to I mentioned before, it was but a week ago that my life had been so much less burdened...then a chance encounter with a woman of notable beauty sent all that which my conscious and sane mine knew a topple, as I listened to what many would consider blasphemous. It was but a week ago, settled outside in the park, on a sole bench under a burning streetlamp, I'd been gazing at the stars after attending a lavish, and somewhat raucous dinner gathering. As I said, a woman of notable beauty had appeared, she'd walked down the darkened path, without chaperon, but with such a force that I dare say no street fiend or common monster would ever lay a hand on the purple dress she wore. She approached, paused, and then sat beside me on the stone bench.

"Good Sir," She said. "It is pleasant to walk below and to gaze at the stars on such a fine night, but I sense you have a wandering mind. What causes your mind to wander?" She had asked with an enigmatic air about herself. The question shocked me...I'd believed that I had worn a neutral face, I finally answered.

"Good evening, Madam, I am beheld a problem. I am a successful practitioner of law, I can convince a jury to abandon any false evidence in the search for the total truth of any client I represent...but it is my artistry which suffers from foul winds, I have been accosted by an absence of inspiration." I replied.

"Good Sir, you are beheld a problem, the ancient muses of Greece have much a tempest-tossed time, allotting inspiration to the many artists, authors and explorers of this new world." I mused, she had made mention of the muses of ancient Greece, who had inspired the poets and scholars long before, who had created the impressive legends of Jason, and the Argonauts, and the Greek gods themselves.

"Prey, what do you mean?" I asked.

"I will tell you a tale that has crossed my path in years gone by, but you must remember, good Sir, for this is a story not to be taken lightly, it features much a subject that would be considered blasphemous in the age of science and technology." She replied.

"Dear lady, I have read the works of Shakespeare, Howard Lovecraft and Edgar Allen Poe, I do not fear what you may offer to me." She smiled at my foolish and arrogant words. It is only now I realise that I had the chance to evade the fate that will surely befall me...but alas, that is the past.

"You mention Lovecraft, I have met such a man, for his works have been inspired by what I told him, and what I shall tell you. It is a tale, a tale of gods, a tale of a war, a tale of element warring against element." For some strange, no, almost supernatural reason, a bolt of lightning flashed above the yet uncompleted monolith standing beside the church at 550 Central Park West, the silhouette illuminated there chilled me...but I put such feelings down as folly, and urged the radiant beauty to continue.

"Many a millennia, and more before the age of man, the Earth was but one of many jewels suspended against the black satin of the material of the universe, but, the Earth's sapphire glow withheld a deeper darkness, for beneath the glow were creatures, monstrosities in which no man would ever see, outside of the nightmares of lunatics or the select few who can see aeons past and present. There were many great gods, warring over the precious jewel known as Earth, there was Mardok, god of the primeval cities constructed long before man...long before the beasts that now parade in the museums of the world, there was also Tiamat, his foe, a five headed dragon of lethal power, there was Hob Annigarrik, a fire god...the first Demon. Then there was Cthulhu, the green, wing-ed creature which resembles the creatures that bare the name 'octopus'. There were Nyarlathotep and Dagon, a one-eyed demon-god of insanity and a god of the oceans. Then, there was a deadly god, Volguus the Traveler, Zildrohar the Destroyer, who would become the formless god, only taking a form of that which was chosen by which it destroyed...and along with them stood Surt, watching as the other Gods warred for the planet which would be known as Earth."

Prey, I did pause her unusual, and admittedly quaint tale. "My lady, this tale you tell me...surely it is the stuff of blasphemy! There is but one God, who resides in heaven among the angels and those who have left our world. And you mentioned Cthulhu...a work of the quaint, though possibly disturbed works of Howard Phillips Lovecraft...prey tell, how you can credit such a disturbing work to yourself?" She smiled.

"A single god?" She smiled, it was a smile which would melt the iron casting of any emotionally lacking man. "There was a man, many a year ago who asked such a question, as I did then which I will do so now, I will neither admit, nor disprove that maybe now, there is but one god." After assembling this curious puzzle of words within my mind, I invited her to continue.

"The gods battled, Earth was much prized for its beauty, god versus god in a battle which lasted many aeons...but, nay! Something peculiar began...from the ruins of the beasts and creatures, a new set of beasts emerged, as well the atmosphere and very rock and soil of the planet changed, what had once begun as the fiery mountains of Mordor, how now become the green and yielding planes which gave birth to the beats known as Tyrannosaurus Rex, Stegosaurus, and Triceratops. The gods, viewing the change in the world, removed their battle to below ground, to the planet's empty core, where they raged, except one, Zildrohar the Destroyer. Who orchestrated the fall of a mighty comet, which swept forth a second age of fire, eradicating the beasts that wondered the earth...but nay, something had happened, for though the planet began to freeze, the creatures had adapted, the gods, wanting the planet for themselves, educated small communities of the small beings in their teachings...the beings were dispersed among the world, forming the first great nations, the arctic kingdoms to the north, ruled by Hob Annigarrik, the oceanic kingdoms, ruled by both Cthulhu and Dagon, the forested kingdoms to the south, ruled by insane driven Nyarlathotep, the desert kingdom to the East, ruled by Surt, and the island regions to the West, ruled by Gozer, for which was to be once known as Volguus the Traveler, Zildrohar the Destroyer...the formless destructor."

I had to pause to assimilate the strange, blasphemous narrative the good lady had been describing. Other gods? A god invoking the deaths of the dinosaurs before us? Such surely is insanity! If not blasphemy!

"My lady...why did you feel the warrant, to dispel such knowledge of a practitioner of law such as myself?" I asked.

"For you required inspiration...and soon, you shall paint a nameless portrait, of the destructor...but neigh...soon, there shall be forces which shall repel against the formless destructor, Vuulgus Zildrohar, the Traveler, Gozer, the Gozerian." She stood up, a soft smile on her face of lavish beauty.

"Prey," I asked, "tell me your name in which I am yet to learn."

"My name is Lady Delphia," She replied.

" do you know of such things? Surely someone as radiant in beauty as yourself should never be forced to see such evils as you have described?" For the first time in conversing with Lady Delphia, a visible falter in her beauty did show.

"I am doomed to witness and know such terrible knowledge, and I shall carry it to my earthen grave when my time upon this earth has been deemed finished...and when I have helped those who require my help and guidance. Good night, Christopher Matthews, I bid you farewell...and good luck, for the undergoing you are soon to partake...and what you are yet to witness." And she left, leaving me a flutter with many a unanswered question, only had she vanished from sight, did I realise I hadn't mentioned my name, I leapt to my feet, and sought after her in the darkened park, but never again did I see such a maiden with such a fair voice and appearance. As the following week presented life as both an artist and successful practitioner of law faltered on the new tale I had been told, day and night did I slave away at the portrait I had been inspired to paint, and once the gruesome thing was finished, did I gasp. The once-humble canvass did depict a vista of terrible meaning, set against a demonic sunset of red, did reside a towering structure inhabited by strange lights, atop of which a temple sat, and within did reside the formless destructor, a impossible vision of light and darkness. But what terrified me more so, was the shape and height of the towering structure, for I had seen it! My eyes had wondered onto its Gothic architecture many a time before...

For the structure, was the imposing apartment complex which stood but one street away, 550 Central Park West, which had been designed by a surgeon...a man going under the surname Shandor...surely a madman, if this terrible, almost prophetic vista was evidence to go by.

I fear that this tale will be forgotten...but I warn whoever that has the misfortune to read these words, that you shall never again receive the embrace of Morpheus...the sandman. For as I write this, I know I cannot sleep, for when I dream, I dream of terrible things, I dream of Cthulhu, I dream of Dagon, I dream of Nyarlathotep, I dream of Surt and Tiamat and Mardok...but worst of all, I dream of which I cannot see, the formless destructor!

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Based on Ghostbusters Created by Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis