Within the Void

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It was strange, so very strange, in the land where the gods dwelt. 

A fell wind mournfully wove it's way through the air, as dark clouds painted forlorn landscapes against the horizon. The wind had a subtle chill to it that would slowly work it's way through everything, unnoticed till it gnawed at your bones. It was a lonely wind for a lonely land, and they suited each other well. But the wind was not the strangest part.

The air was wrong here. It was thick, like water as you wade through it. It felt as if it offered resistance to those who passed through it, slowing steps and pushing against progress. At times it seemed to stretch and warp, like a tower in a hurricane. At times you could see glimpses of another world, flashing in the air like light off a falling glass. There would be a moment of perfect clarity, of total comprehension. And then like a glass, it would reach the floor and shatter. The reflections in those shards were of memories, lives, histories that perhaps never were.But the air was not the strangest part.

For among the wind and the air and the reflections of ghosts, were two figures. One a survivor of the temporal genocide, the other it's perpetrator. There, before his great work, was the One-eyed god. 

The Stranger was transfigured, transformed by the power and the will he had channeled to rewrite the world, and warped by a thousand ideas of what he had been. He had grown, body stretching and expanding to huge proportions, taller than any man. His limbs were too long, his fingers had too many joints. His grey lab coat had become a ragged robe, with wide, drooping sleeves and many folds that all seemed to trail off into smoke. The spikes in his body had elongated, with their tips emerging like metallic spines from all over. Along his spine they formed a grisly ridge, and they emerged from his head in a mockery of a crown. His face was gaunt, cheekbones like blades sheathed within the skin, and his grin would give a crocodile nightmares. Across his exposed skin tiny spikes formed symbols and images, eerie tattoos of metal. His thick afro had become a wild mane, the black interspersed with silver, making him look ragged as his robe. And his eyes. His left eyespike had become a lance through his skull, runes and glyphs carved all along it's surface where it jutted out of his skull a good 20 centimetres on each side of his head. And his right eye had become a well of the Void. The dark ocular swirled and oozed, dripping inky black tears that ran down the side of his face and evaporated into smoke. 

They had called him a dark god, the true abomination of the Alleys. And so he had become that which they proclaimed him to be.

He stared into the swirling air and beheld it all, grinning as he passed a hand through an after image, causing it to dissipate into light. He watched the lights for a moment, then turned his gaze outward. His expression seemed distant, like one who looked on something far away, and he spoke. "He suspects nothing. It all fits, it all makes sense." His voice was the stillness of a forest that had been ravaged by fire, it was the deepness of the sea where light can not reach. "Time continues to pass, and he only grows more comfortable. He knows not what he has been given, but he cannot but treasure the joy of restoration. Not only that," He turned to his sole companion and his grin was almost friendly, "but the city is at peace. There is no guild war, there are no abominations roaming the streets, the DA keep their work quiet and everyone is content. We have made the peace your guild sought for so long. But what do I know of peace, I'm only a scientist blinded by ambition. Isn't that right, Sudiov?"



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