"Oh, I am doing good, thanks mom."
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As Alucard delves deeper into the ravine, more and more of the jade-rock is replaced by various furniture. An old man with clothes from the 17th century, giving a class around him anatomy lessons, by opening his stomach and holding out his liver. Tanks filled with perfectly normal humans conserved in alcohol and formaldehyde, and mutated freaks making scetches of them. Display cases with artifacts that even Alucard thought were just a myth. And books, books, nothing but books. At the bottom of the ravine stood a throne made from a large lotus petal, surrounded by 5 pillars emiting the odd illumination around. A dragon, to be precise one of the yellow kind, condemned by their bretheren for their greedy blood magic, lays impaled like a suckling pig next to a razor. Various malnurished servants are turning a crank to rotate it, skinning it alife for all eternity, as it's skin regrows as fast as it is cut. Four blind women whose legs have been replaced with brushes are dancing over the resulting scroll of dragon skin, and an entity with enormous spectacles keeps reading aloud every word they are writing in that way, in a language Alucard did not understand.
On the throne sat Amazeroth, just as the necronomicon had described him. A mummified body, 3 meters high and thin as a twig. A golden Pharaoh mask with a third eye on the forehead concealed his face. From his shoulders hung four long arms, no thicker than a broom handle, and in each 6 fingered hand laid another insignia of Amazeroths power, the mirror blade, the dragon staff, the cursed needle and the key to the compendium.