Reclined in his throne, the emaciated figure grinned maliciously. His black robes fell around him loosely, exposing his gaunt torso. His bony fingers gently clutched the sides of the armrests, feeling the slight gelatinous texture of its surface. He peered at the exposed portion of it, just beyond his fingertip, intimately running a finger on its slick surface. Korm had magickally labored many years to manifest the apparatus. It was the most ineffable artifact ever crafted.
Korm caressed the throne’s armrests with his bony hands.Slowly. Calmly. Completely.
Six months more, and I will possess this plane.
His conquest of this reality continued on and his presence had not yet been discovered. Not that he really needed it. He had all the power he could want, but for some reason the powers that be took an interest in this mundane sphere. It was something about worshipers, temples, and clerics.
“Hogwash.” He declared to himself as he absently gazed at the black candles on the table in front of him. The wax batons flickered as if they had a life of their own.
He snorted, shifting his train of thought from gods to men.
There must be more to these fragile mortals. Their ephemeral souls pass like the blink of an eye, leaving nothing changed. They crawl about this plane like ants, hoping to attain that which only the gods may obtain: immortality.
Stretching out a skeletal arm, a glass of dark red liquid appeared in hand. Taking a sip of the warm fluid, a diabolic grin spread across his face.
“Won’t they be disappointed.” He hissed. “I have reached immortality’s pinnacle, yet I still crave more.”
The god rose from his ebony throne and strode to the window. Looking down at the bustling courtyard, he watched as a patrol burst through the gates, driving peasants before them, trampling any who failed to move out of their path.
“Yes, won’t they be disappointed. Soon they shall all pray for death, begging to end their torture and join their pathetic gods. Ha! Gods they call themselves, Corman, Dilena, Vulvar, Molworphie. Even their names spew from my lips like so much vomit. I—”
From the far end of the room, Korm heard a latch click, then soft footsteps drawing near. The padding stopped, leaving only the sound of discordant breathing. The deity could smell the man’s fear. Without looking, he knew the ebony throne entranced the serf. Most mortals who gazed upon its throbbing blackness wept. Only those who were black of heart dared to behold it openly. To touch the skull that sat upon it would destroy all but the most cruel of souls. It was an essential power, the relic in which he had imprisoned Sohlkeaper enabled him to remain in this pitiful place as long as he wanted. Before he could delve any deeper into the thought, he was reminded of his servant by a polite cough.
“What?” Korm asked, annoyed by the disturbance.“I-I heard voices, my Lord, and decided to investigate. I know you didn’t wish to be disturbed.”
“Did I truly say that I did not wish to be disturbed?”
“Y-Yes my Lord.”
“Then why do you disturb me now, you pathetic worm?!” The deity roared as he turned around to face the man. His eyes glowed brightly with power as he focused on the cowering slave, but he quickly realized that a new face stood before him, and his rage abated.
“But, I—”
“Think nothing of it.” Korm’s voice lulled the slave’s terrors.
“You are new to my service.” Turning back to his window, Korm spoke. “I was about to call for you anyway, I require nourishment.”
The relief was apparent as the serf stepped back. “I shall send for some food and water,” And then, after a short, fearful pause he timorously stammered. “I – If this w – would please you?”
“No,” said Korm as he smiled and disregarded the events outside. Turning back to the man, he placed more concentration on the serf. “You misunderstand me. Who is your god, mortal?”
“You are my liege, the greatest god among all gods.”
“Blasphemy!” With a flick of a withered finger, the servant dropped to his knees and began to retch.
“There are no other gods, worm!” A second finger levitated the man off the floor and spun his body to face the black throne. The attendant flew, striking the crystal skull atop the throne, producing a hideous bone-crunching sound as his spine was snapped.
With no apparent exertion on his part, the deity levitated the body back across the room to face him. Peering into his eyes the god knew the man still lived, but what torment he saw or felt, Korm could only imagine. Sohlkeaper, the entity trapped within the skull, had different fears for every man.
Gently he reached his hand and tenderly caressed the dying man’s face. “Am I not a merciful god? I will release you from your torment and give you sweet, unfeeling death.”
Glancing up at the crystal skull, Korm spoke coolly to the item. “Sorry Sohlkeaper, this one is mine.” With that he kissed the man passionately on the lips and then pushed back to gaze upon the limp body as it continued to float in the air before him.
As the god looked on, the corpse began to writhe and twist from intangible forces. An eerie blue orb suddenly emerged from the corpse’s mouth and hovered above the crippled body as it ceased in its frantic death throes. The deity reached out his hand and gently grasped the glowing sphere. Moments later the soul’s essence dissipated as Korm absorbed its vitality into his being.
A groan of ecstasy escaped the god’s lips and as he turned to the window, he frowned.
A pity, thought the god. he had a strong will and may have been a very useful and loyal tool.
Looking out the window once more, the deity noticed a flash of lightning in the distance. Momentary, fear gripped his heart, a chill overtook him.
“Now, now, don’t get disconcerted,” He whispered as he shook off the sensations running their course up and down his spine. “There’s far too much to do. There will be plenty of time to deal with him and his pathetic followers.”
