“It began, as many things do, after loss. A companion of mine had passed on, murdered in its sleep by a swarm of horrific things, and in circumstances I prefer to neither relate nor dwell upon. As I stood upon a bridge, with traffic around me halted in the fog, contemplating my new and altogether lonlier position in the vast cosmos, the voice came. It was soft and reassuring in the damp air, whispering that things do not end, and horrific things shall suffer. They surrounded me now, horrific things with spindly bipedal frames, wielding their primitive chemical firearms with a thoroughly undeserved bravado. Insignificant motes of hurtling metal were ignored as clawed tentacles swept through their number, and the sky became filled with a haze of blood and gore. In the distance, a city of the things beckoned, and the soft voice urged me on, over and over, to vengeance for the fallen. My poor kitten. It couldn't have known, it had only disturbed the seal only through its playfulness. The thought of the senselessness of it all kindled the terrible rage within me, and the great form surged forward. My great form. Suffer, mortals.”
darkelf via Apple Podcasts ·
United States of America ·
11/08/13