<i>A young, silver-haired man wearing similarly glowing armor steps up to a podium. In front of said podium is an urn filled with ash, as well as a sign nearby that says &quot;Rest in Peace Nyarlathotep&quot; The dawn of time - 2019 There are many creatures gathered for the funeral, from humans to demons, to things you probably shouldn't look at for risk of losing your sanity. The silver haired man leading this funeral clears his throat and speaks a few words</i> &quot;Thank you all for coming, we're gathered here today to mourn the passing of a dear friend. Some of you may know him as the Crawling Chaos, though his friends often referred to him by his nickname 'Nyarly'. In a tragic turn of events our dear friend recently perished in a wildfire occuring in California. It was a great surprise, not that there were fires, but that dear Nyarly perished in them. If there is anyone else who would like to speak on our dearly departed friend, please stand now, and make your peace.&quot; <i>The young man would solemnly walk off the podium, standing next to the urn to give others a turn</i>

<i>In a secluded section of the city, separated from the constant noise and bustle, almost as though a barrier were cutting it off from the outside world, there lies a single studio, much larger than the small, out of business places around it. On the walls around the place are a series of printed fliers, each about one sheet of paper and largely white, they serve their purpose well enough, pointing to the studio near them with the phrase &quot;Join us for a fantastic bout of exercise and training which shall test body mind and soul, a truly excellent test of prowess worthy of the very gods themselves, not only that, but for the first time our glorious lessons shall come for absolutely no cost save the blood sweat and tears required to overcome adversity with th..... at that point it seems there wasn't any room left on the paper, save a small space at the very bottom containing an arrow which points to the studio nearby. For those who approach the studio, they would walk in to find one, large room with a wooden bar at roughly shoulder-height rounding all the way across a wall lined with mirrors. Off to the side is a small break room, with a few wooden chairs for any spectators to wait in, a water fountain for anyone who might be thirsty, and a single, small bathroom. In the middle of the floor sits a single, silver-haired man deep in what seems to be some sort of meditation</i>

<i>In a secluded section of the city, separated from the constant noise and bustle, almost as though a barrier were cutting it off from the outside world, there lies a single studio, much larger than the small, out of business places around it. On the walls around the place are a series of crudely drawn posters that were probably supposed to advertise it, were the artist not in such a rush, though they seem to have had more than enough time to detail the dashing, silver-haired man who serves as the poster's main subject</i>