To know darkness is to know how to battle it, thus, I came to visit several of the Black Masses that are held within the Church’s dark walls. The bitter cold and the vastness of freezing snow of Ice Island only serves to strengthen the feeling of uneasiness as a person enters through the fell doors of the spiritual nexus of the unholy.

In the southern parts of the island of ice, near mortals, doomed to die, this building stands ominous, looming above the view from the Frosty Hook Tavern. Transportation is provided to and from the Church of Oblivion, via gate travel from the Counselor’s Guildhall in Skara Brae at ten till 10:00 EST. Over the aeons, one being has presided over the unholy sacrement that is the Black Mass.

The High Priest of Oblivion, Bal-Anon Dak conducts his fell cantrips and gramaryes that comprise the Order of the Ebon Skull’s open worship. Upon entry to the Church, a person finds himself walking amidst piles of bones, some still dripping blood, and others, crumbling to ash under a misplaced step. The seats are arranged in a pattern most conducive to packing as many souls, so to speak, into as tight a space as possible. The Altar near the front of the Church, stone and dried blood and entrails, is where the High Priest conducts his blasphemic sermon. As the service begins, the members of the Order of the Ebon Skull mutter prayers in some unknown and dubiously foul tongue, almost in unison, as though speaking from the same voice. The Entropic Chant is uttered by the High Priest in a low, gutteral, rasping voice, and after a few prayers, a human is sacrificed to the embrace of Oblivion. A blessing of blood and of fire is poured out among the congregation and the Order reels in the delight of its pain.

As a follower of the Light, I encourage you to visit a Black Mass at some time or another in your travels. Knowledge and information are power, and to know thy enemy is a great thing. Be forewarned though, the Church of Oblivion is nary the place to weild a weapon or yield to thy tongue.