English Translation
I, Abdul Alhazred, whisper these ancient secrets into the void, hoping that the mere utterance of these words will not tear apart the fabric of reality. But what is sanity in the face of such knowledge? I have traveled beyond the edges of the known world, seen the unspeakable and witnessed the unnamable. And yet, I remain whole, still capable of delving deeper into the darkest depths of magic. In my search for true power, I came upon a tome so wretched and profane that it dared me to read it. And yet, read it I did. It spoke of a vile alchemy that could transmute the rotting flesh of mortals into a fabric of pure beauty, imbued with magic that would consume the very soul of its wearer. The price for such beauty is beyond measure, for it requires the ultimate sacrifice. But what is sacrifice in the face of true power? I have seen men and women give their lives for a mere taste of what I possess. And yet, I hunger for more. I have spent years perfecting this dark art, and I now hold the key to unlock its true potential. The fabric of the gods, they called it. But what are gods in the face of the true power that I wield? Listen, dear reader, and heed my warning. The knowledge I impart will corrupt your very being, twist your mind and ravage your soul. But for those who dare to pursue true power, let my words be your guide.
Ah, the fabric of the gods, softer than silk, with a shimmer that reflects light in all the colors of the rainbow. But more than that, it has an almost supernatural appeal. To see it is to want to touch it. To touch it is to want to wear it. To wear it is to lose yourself in the abyss, never to return again. Beware, for those who don the fabric of the Gods shall experience a fate worse than death. Although their body may escape disease, age, and even mortality, their very essence shall be obliterated in an instant, devoured by unfathomable powers. The shell of the body that remains is but an empty vessel, a mere tool for any who dabble in the dark arts to exploit and control as they please.
Harken to me, oh ye who would seek the secrets of the arcane! For I have delved deep into the abyss and plucked forth knowledge that will drive men mad and tear the very fabric of reality asunder. Know ye that the path before you is fraught with danger and madness, and those who would tread upon it do so at their own peril. But for those brave and foolish enough to continue, I shall reveal the recipe for the most cursed and powerful fabric in all of creation. A fabric that will ensnare the senses and lead even the most virtuous of souls to the darkest depths of damnation. The ingredients, you ask? Ah, they are simple enough, and yet so dreadfully vile that even to speak of them is to invite the attention of the Old Ones themselves. Rotting human flesh, freshly plucked from the carcass of the deceased, and wood from the birch trees that grow upon the slopes of the Zagros Mountains. These are the two elements that must be combined to create the fabric of the Gods. But do not be deceived by the simplicity of the ingredients, for the process of transmuting them into the fabric is a dark and terrible art, requiring knowledge of alchemy that is beyond mortal comprehension. And even should you succeed in creating the fabric, know that the price of wearing it is nothing less than the damnation of your immortal soul.
Firstly, one must procure the rotting flesh of a human body, preferably one that has been dead for weeks. But if such is not available, the flesh of a recently deceased body must be left to rot in the scorching sun for at least five days. Then, and only then, can the process begin. Next, one must obtain wood from a birch tree found in the Zagros Mountains. This wood must be chopped into pieces no larger than a human thumb. Both ingredients must then be placed in a large cauldron filled with saltwater, where it must simmer for five long days until both flesh and wood have disintegrated into a fibrous substance. But beware, dear reader, for the process is not yet complete. The alchemist must ensure that there is always enough water in the cauldron and regularly stir the pot with a rod of pure silver. Only then can the fabric of the Gods be created.
Beneath the pale moon’s light, the alchemist must mark the cold, hard earth with the sigil of the damned. This mark is not for the eyes of the unworthy, for it is inscribed with the very essence of the void. Its intricate lines and curves writhe with power and darkness, and once it is complete, it will serve as a portal to otherworldly realms.
The alchemist must then take the fibrous mass from the cauldron and place it upon the blasphemous sigil, drawn with the blood of a sacrificial animal. With a mallet forged from the bone of a demon, the alchemist must beat the mass into a pulp while reciting the most abhorrent incantations in the tongue of the ancient and forgotten Kingdom of Kryl-Talath. The words must be spoken with such fervor that they shake the very foundations of reality, and call forth the wrath of the ancient gods who have long since fallen into obscurity.
Kalthabu suryadimun ashraku, karimal muwakkilu fathiya.
Urshulul khasis iyyakum, ma’ahuma sharran wa dalalan.
Min rahim al-akhdar, ila zahir al-lail.
Fi al-zil al-maftuh, al-khutut al-siyah.
Once the fibrous mass has been beaten into a pulp, it must be pushed through the finest of sieves made of pure silver, crafted by the hands of the most skilled silversmith in all the land. This sieve must be suspended over a bed of hot, glowing ambers, so that the fibers that emerge on the other side are the finest and most delicate strands you could ever imagine. These fibers must be tended to with the utmost care and attention, for they are the key to the most wondrous of garments. They must be bleached to a bone white, spun into the most delicate of threads, dyed with the rarest of hues, woven into the finest of fabrics, and then tailored into the most breathtaking of garments. But beware, my dear reader, for the beauty that lies within these garments is a facade, a mere illusion. For those who wear these garments will be consumed by the darkness that lies within, forever lost to the abyss.
Latin Original
Ego, Abdul Alhazred, haec arcana antiqua in vacuum susurro, sperans ne hae voces mere enuntiatae texturam realitatis dissolvent. Sed quid est sanitas coram tali scientia? Trans fines noti mundi iter feci, nefanda vidi et innominabilia testificatus sum. Et tamen, integer maneo, adhuc capax in profunda tenebrarum magicae penetrandi. Dum veram potentiam quaero, inveni librum tam miserum et profanum ut me provocaret ad legendum. Et tamen, legi eum. De alchemia foeda loquebatur, quae carnes putridas mortalium in texturam purae pulchritudinis transmutare potest, magica imbuta quae animam ipsam gerentis devorabit. Pretium tanti decoris immensum est, quia supremum sacrificium requirit. Sed quid est sacrificium coram vera potestate? Vidi homines et mulieres vitam suam pro mero gustatu eius quod possideo dare. Et tamen, esurio amplius. Annos in hoc arte tenebroso consumpsi, et nunc clavem ad potentiam eius veram aperiendam teneo. Texturam Deorum eam appellaverunt. Sed quid sunt dii coram vera potestate quam exerceo? Audi, lector carissime, et monitionem meam observa. Scientia quam impertior tuam ipsam essentiam corrumpet, mentem torquebit et animam devastabit. Sed his qui veram potentiam audacter quaerere volunt, verba mea sint dux.
Eheu, textura Deorum, mollior serico, cum micatu qui omnium colorum arcus iris lucem reflectit. Sed plus est quam hoc, nam fascinatio eius fere supernaturalis est. Videre eam tangere eam velle est. Tangere eam gerere eam velle est. Gerere eam in abyssum se perdere numquam rediturum est. Cave, nam qui Texturam Deorum induunt, sortem peiorem quam mortem experientur. Quamquam corpus eorum morbo, senectute et etiam mortalitate effugere poterit, essentia eorum in momento delebitur, ab potestatibus inaestimabilibus devorata. Corpus quod restat, nihil nisi vas vacuum est, mera instrumenta pro iis qui in artibus tenebrosis versantur ut explorent et imperent pro lubitu suo.
Ausculta mihi, o vos qui arcana petere vultis. Nam ego in abyssum altius descendi et scientiam eripui quae homines insanire facit et ipsam texturam realitatis lacerat. Scitote viam ante vos plenam periculi et insaniae esse, et qui eam ingrediuntur, suo periculo id faciunt. Sed his qui ausi stulti sunt progredi, revelabo rationem texturae maledictae et potentissimae omnium creationis. Textura quae sensus irretiat et animas etiam virtuosissimas ad profundissima damnationis deducet. Ingredientia quaeris? Eheu, simplicia sunt, et tamen tam foede terribilia ut etiam de eis loqui attentionem Veterum Ipsorum invitet. Caro humana putrida, ex cadavere defuncti nuper abrepta, et lignum ex betulis quae in clivis montium Zagros crescit. Haec sunt duo elementa quae combinanda sunt ad Texturam Deorum creandam. Sed ne simplicitate ingredientium decipiaris, nam eorum in texturam transmutatio ars obscura et horrenda est, quae alchemiae scientiam ultra humanam captum requirit. Et etiam si fabricam confeceris, scias pretium eius gestandi nihil minus esse quam damnatio animae tuae immortalis.
Primo, putridam carnem humani corporis parare oportet, potissimum eam quae mortua per hebdomadas est. Sed si talis non sit ad manum, caro corporis nuper defuncti in sole fervente saltem quinque dies putrescere debet. Tunc demum, processus incipi potest. Deinde, lignum ex betula in montibus Zagros crescente obtinere debes. Hoc lignum in partes non maiore quam pollice humano concidendum est. Utrumque ingrediens in lebete magno aqua salsa impleto collocandum est, ubi quinque dies longos coquendum est, donec et caro et lignum in substantiam fibrosam dissolvantur. Sed cave, lector carissime, nam processus nondum completus est. Alchemista debet cavere ut semper aqua sufficiens in lebete sit et vas saepe virga argentea pura agitare. Tunc demum Textura Deorum creari potest.
Sub pallidae lunae lumine, alchemista sigillum damnatorum in terra frigida et dura designare debet. Hoc signum non est indignorum oculis, nam ipsa essentia vacui inscripta est. Lineae eius complicatae et curvae cum potentia et tenebris serpent, et ubi perficiuntur, portam ad regna alienigena praestabunt.
Tum alchemista massam fibrosam e lebete sumere et super nefandum sigillum, cruore animalis sacrificati ductum, collocare debet. Malleo ex ossibus daemonis factum, alchemista massam in pulpam contundere debet, dum horrendissimas incantationes lingua antiqui regni Kryl-Talath obliti enuntiat. Verba tam fervide proferenda sunt ut ipsa fundamenta realitatis concutiant et iram deorum antiquorum iam diu in oblivionem lapsorum evocent.
Kalthabu suryadimun ashraku, karimal muwakkilu fathiya.
Urshulul khasis iyyakum, ma’ahuma sharran wa dalalan.
Min rahim al-akhdar, ila zahir al-lail.
Fi al-zil al-maftuh, al-khutut al-siyah.
Cum massa fibrosa in pulpam contusa sit, per cribellum argenteum purissimum premenda est, quod per manus artificis argentarii peritissimi in toto terrarum orbe factum est. Cribellum hoc super stratum calidum, ardentes favillas suspendendum est, ita ut fibrae quae ex altera parte emergunt, deliciatissimae et tenuissimae sint, ut numquam ante visae. His fibris maxima diligentia et cura consulendum est, nam clavis sunt ad pulcherrima vestimenta. Albae ossium similes esse debent, in fila tenuissima torquenda, coloribus rarissimis tingenda, in texturas optimas texenda, et tandem in vestimenta mirabilissima conficienda. Sed cave, lector carissime, nam pulchritudo in his vestimentis est fallax, mera illusio. Nam qui haec vestimenta gerunt, a tenebris quae intrinsecus sunt consumuntur, in abyssum in perpetuum perdituri.
