Duck- The Psychotic Psychic

Duck was working.
He worked in the Australian Sanctuary as their minister of foreign affairs. He thought that would mean worldwide travelling and meeting foreign people but today, like nearly every other day, he was doing paperwork. The only sound was the noise of his pen scribbling on paper and the slow tick-tock of the clock on the mantelpiece.
Duck put the pen down and looked at his work. 6 words. Nice. The Japanese Sanctuary would really appreciate his letter. He looked at the clock, 10:30pm. Duck got up from his chair with a grunt and headed for the door, his hard work done for the day. But just as he was exiting the office a man grabbed his arms.

The sudden guest had a thick beard and dirty, greasy hair reaching his shoulders. He had a tropical Hawaiian shirt, kaki pants and no shoes on his hairy feet. Duck recognised him straight away as Bohemian Channeller, the psychic that worked here at the Australian Sanctuary. But then Duck noticed Bohemian's hands. They were completely covered in blood. There were large, jagged cuts running a long his hands and up his arms, the blood still seeping out.

Duck pushed Bohemian away from him, for fear of blood getting over his clothes. Bohemian then looked right into his eyes with bewilderment.
"He's here, man," Bohemian croaked. Blood spluttered from his lips and landed on the floor.
"What, who? Why are you covered in blood?" So many question were running through Duck's mind.
"You've gotta run," Bohemian said, ignoring Duck's questions. "He's going to get everyone, everyone dude! Your only chance to escape is to run!" And then he just fell, just slumped onto the ground. Blood started running from his nose and eyes as his pupils rolled into the back of his head.

Duck was shocked. Nothing like this ever happens here, all the crazy stuff usually happens in Ireland or America but certainly not in Australia. Duck looked at the body of his colleague, Bohemian was definitely dead, but just to make sure Duck checked his pulse. He then remembered that he didn't know how to check a pulse so gave up on that, not really wanting to touch the body to find out. He looked up and down the hallway outside his office. There was a long trail of blood going off to the left and around a corner. Duck decided to follow it, curiosity taking control of his common sense. The blood trail stayed close to the wall, and there were red hand prints scraped against the it. Duck rounded the corner and saw that the trail led into a room to the right. He knew this was Bohemian's office, or as he called it, Bohemian's  Elysian Field. Duck had no idea why he called it that, but that was what was on the plaque on the door, that was now covered in blood. The door was opened only an inch so Duck slowly and wearily pushed it open.

Duck was flabbergasted. His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide. He took a step back, then another. He heard footsteps to his left and looked to see two cleavers and another mage round the corner. They saw Duck and the mage raised his eyebrows and Duck just pointed.

"The walls," he whispered, to astonished to get anymore words out. The mage and cleavers jogged over to his position to see what he was pointing at. When they saw it, they too couldn't talk.

It was a mess, there was books and papers and scent candles thrown around the place. The desk was upturned and the swivel chair was in many pieces around the room. And the blood. There was blood everywhere over the floor but over the walls the blood made out words. Most of it was crazy gibberish but the far wall had clear and big letters and it was suddenly clear as to why Bohemian when crazy. On the wall, written in the psychic's own blood, was the worst sentence any sorcerer could imagine:

The Unnamed has returned