Prologue: The Pain of Emptiness
The rippling of the cool grass massaged his belly as he slid along the verdant ground. It was a privilege favored by few, to experience the gentle, moist kiss of flesh and sod. A simple pleasure so easily taken for granted when experienced over one's entire existence. He continued his sinuous crawl through the lush meadow, savoring in the mélange of tastes that slid along his tongue; dew tipped grass, aromatic perennials and the tender warmth of an afternoon sun caressed every sense. One could almost circle endlessly in the paradisiacal climes of Derren-Ma.Almost.
King Mekasha was not here on this day to revel in the bounties of this terran nirvana. Rather it was a grim task that lay before him. Today he and his fellows would battle the enemy. He could sense them wending their ways alongside and behind, their signatures wafted on the light zephyr that blew through the lea, coming to rest on his delicate taste-buds. Everything there was to tell of his fellows was contained in their signatures. There were no deceptions in the clan, trust was absolute and unquestionable. Today, their signatures spoke of obedience, and a determination to uphold that obedience. They would fall to the last to oversee a victory on this day.
A new concoction of smells intruded itself upon Mekasha's senses; stone, steel and blood. They were nearing their destination. Mekasha stopped, which also was a signal for his fellows to do the same, they complied automatically. Mekasha focused his thoughts, this was the part he had always hated, the pain was unbearable though brief, yet it yielded little, if any rewards.
He felt his skin stretch outwards, pulled taught yet still being pulled further. His scales split as they too were rudely forced apart until they stood on their tethered ends. He could feel tissue inside him calcifying into bone, its hardening mass tearing through his flesh until it settled in its various resting places. In every part of his body the fires of change raged and tormented until the process was complete. Even then Mekasha knelt weakly where he had only moments ago lay, waiting for the last of the flames to peter out and feeling to return. He held himself in this position a moment longer, allowing his senses to acclimate to his new form, allowing them to realize he now possessed limbs.
He stood slowly, lest the motion unsettle his stomach, and looked around. His fellows had undergone their transformations, some still unsure about their legs and knelt looking at their master. Mekasha could still taste their signatures and he could read the disgust they had for this bipedal form. They despised having to relinquish their skins for another, having to take a form that gave them two unsteady feet on which to balance instead of the graceful glide of their reptilian membranes.
Hated it as they did, their human forms gave them advantages previously denied. As men they could avoid the ground-fires that were so often used against them. They could wield the very weapons their enemies once used to slice them from safe distances, whilst using their shields to deflect the Snake Men's venomous strikes. With their second skins the clan of the Snake Men became a force comparable to any that the race of man could muster. Today, they would find out if they were superior.
Supply trains rumbled into view, bearing the weapons and armor the Snake Men would wear into combat. The wagons were drawn by horses and piloted by human slaves. The slaves were a warning to the Snake Men's opponents, that all men were inferior before their might. The carts had come to a halt and the Snake Men army began to outfit itself in the regalia of human war. Mail tunics, breastplates, gauntlets, boots, shields, swords, spears, bows, axes.the Snake Men held no qualms in using man's own ingenuity against them. It was man that provided these accoutrements as the Snake Men had pillaged them from the corpses of humankind, taken from the victims of the Snake Men's merciless parade. There was one particular bundle set aside for the reptilian King. Mekasha lifted it from the lead wagon and loosened its bindings. Gently unrolling the swag on the grass he took possession of the blade contained within - The Crimson Singer.
A blade of unique design, its steel tongue curved and bent until it reached its tip, reminiscent of its undulating masters. Mekasha turned the sword to catch the sunlight, allowing it to reflect the brilliant crimson hue ingrained into the steel's working. The hilt was nondescript in shape, rectangular and utilitarian. Beneath that leather-bound grip had been worked into a tight braid as it wound its way to the snake's head pommel. The Crimson Singer was the very blade that made the Snake Men the formidable foe they are. It was legend that when Serpentius, the first King of the Snake Men ascended to the Pantheon of the Gods he left behind this very artifact, a gift to his peoples to protect them from the prejudiced hordes of mankind. With the Singer in hand, few would strike against the Snake Men. The sword devoured the souls of those it slew, increasing in power each time blood flowed down its lithe blade. To the bearer it allowed feats of great magic to be borne, one could manipulate the elements, destroy entire cities or something as inconspicuous as shape-shifting. Their means of protection also became their means of dominion.
Mekasha turned to address his army. "Beyond that rise," he said pointing to a low hill, "our enemies await us." Mekasha's voice became laden with contempt. "They seek to exclude us from the Council of Elders, building this fortress without consulting us. Did they think we would not learn of this treachery?" Mekasha shook his head. "The World of Man believes itself superior to that of others, such as the Snake Men, they wish to operate the Council without the Star of Serpentius, without us!" If there was one thing that inflamed the reptile's egos, was the mistrust the general populace had shown towards them since their entry into the world of man. The normally stoic race took their leader's goading to heart and started to shift restlessly. "We will show them! We will demonstrate to them the power of our God, of the Crimson Singer and of our people!" Chants of Mekasha erupted from the assembled masses. "It is we, the Snake Men, who will tear from this world the race of man! We will shoot down the flight of Il Grando! We will extinguish the fires of Aohre! We will scorch the waves of Taymorana! We will annihilate them all and as long as the Snake Men stand, so will its control over this world!" Mekasha pointed once more to their destination. "Now we march to our destiny, to the destruction of humankind!"
As one the thousands of reptilian warriors moved forward in response to their King's charge. Fuelled by indignity and pride they strode. Each one of them mulling over endlessly the words imparted to them by their King. Mekasha tasted the growing feelings of rage carried in the air; the Singer started quivering in anticipation, sensing the impending battle. It would drink its fill from many cups today, its master would see to that.
As the Snake Men crested the rise their target rose into view. Three massive towers pierced the air above, these were the towers that comprised Fortress Eternia, the Council's grand attempt at a receptacle for their combined knowledge, wisdom and power. The entrance to one tower, Mekasha could see, was shaped into a lion's head. He surmised this was to symbolize the absolute supremacy of the law, the balance of all things. A second entrance was fashioned in the likeness of a skull; that was to show wisdom through age, knowledge all things of the Light. The third sported a serpent's head to demonstrate anger, hatred and all that was associated with the Dark. It was such because everything was about balance to the council; twelve seats on the council to represent twelve Gods, six male, six female, six of the Light, six of the Dark.
That was a farce, Meshaka knew, for he had no hand in this monstrosity's creation, nor would he share anything of his people's power with it. There was no balance in making this so called Fortress Eternia. So the Council went ahead without him, hoping to exclude him and his people from the governing of the land, ousting them from their rightful position on the Council. Meshaka was no fool and he would teach that fact in the most egregious manner possible.
Mekasha surveyed the Fortress. With the exception of their impressive adornments, the towers sported no discernible features, tapering straight up, ending in circular battlements. The only other defining feature of the Fortress was a single walkway connecting all three keeps. Tasting the air he could sense no life-forms on either the battlements or the catwalk. No ambush would come from there.
They marched on, getting nearer and nearer to the towers. They crested another rise and the fields flattened out. Waiting across the plain stood the legions of the Council. Mekasha felt his scales bristle at the sight of the opposition leaders - Eldor of the seat of Il Grando and He-Ro of the Star of Aohre. Of the other Council Members he could see no sign. Doubtless they were battling Hordak's forces at Altecom, the capital. That sat fine with him, it would only make his task easier.
He-Ro's voice carried across the grassy plain, "Reconsider your course!" he said. "If we war with each other then there can be no turning back. The balance of the Council will forever be upset and you know the consequences of that!"
"Hordak's rebellion has already disrupted your precious balance; my absence can do no damage that will not be wrought anyway." Mekasha responded.
"If you join with us Snake King, we can defeat Hordak and force the selection of a new Horde Prime. We can stop the prophesied doom from happening. Together, we can bring Eternia into a new era of peace and prosperity." Eldor pleaded.
"And then what?" asked Mekasha, "Once you have your victory and your Golden Age then what becomes of us?" He looked at his human foes, their faces reading nothing but true intentions but their scents reeked of betrayal. "Eternians do not trust the Snake Men, they judge us on our appearance and proclaim us inferior. It is no secret you would have me dead, removing me and my kind forever from the council. Do not think for one moment that I am deceived by your candied words. The Snake Men will die before submitting itself to the treachery of a false Council!"
He-Ro looked grave and Eldor nodded as though expecting to hear nothing else. "Then on your own head be it.King Hiss."
Gritting his teeth and tightening his grip on The Singer, Mekasha had to practice all his restraint to not charge the field and run the Council head through right then. 'Hiss', it was what every ignorant Eternian called the Snake Men. 'Hiss', the sound they made whenever the Snake Men passed through. Well he would cut the tongues from their throats then they could hiss no more. "For Serpentius!" he cried and the army of the Snake Men charged across the plain.
The humans quickly responded. "For the Dragon's honour!" Eldor shouted and his troops sprang forward. "By the light of Aohre's Fire!" He-Ro yelled and his forces charged forward.
In moments the lines collided and the deafening ringing of blade on blade shattered the peaceful meadow. The Snake Men fought savagely, fuelled by pride and indignation. The humans fought on survival instincts, knowing full well what the cost of defeat would be. Mekasha could see his line sliding to the right and realized the Eternians were trying to herd them that way, setting up a wall of flesh and steel between them and the fortress.
"Press their middle, split their forces in two!" Mekasha shouted to his army. Serpentine warriors rushed the mid-most point of the Eternian lines quickly obeying their king. Mekasha himself led the charge, cutting a swathe through the Eternians with The Crimson Singer grasped firmly in both hands. With each fallen enemy the Singer throbbed, its power growing as it fed upon the blood of its victims. The Snake Men knifed easily through the guts of the Eternian van, a path to Fortress Eternia opened up before them. Though they were sandwiched between Eldor's and He-Ro's forces the victor would be he who claimed the Castle.
The Eternians then fought to reclaim the breach, closing in the narrow Snake Men line. Once they succeeded in splitting the Reptile forces in two a horn sounded from the North and across the plain two more armies galloped. Mekasha recoiled as he realized that Injaira, seat of S'Bledse and Morod of the J'Dange seat rode at their head. The Snake Men were now vastly outnumbered and would be crushed in a head on battle.
"Snake Men! Behind me!" he commanded. They moved to comply quickly, a sea of scaly bodies rushed past their King as he raised his sword high in the air. He would give the traitors a demonstration of The Singer's capabilities. "Now Eternians!" he bellowed. "Taste the venom of the Snake Men!" and plunged the sword into the lush land.
A black halo started to spread outwards from the Snake Men and its purpose became gruesomely clear. The evergreen earth blackened and shriveled to oblivion. Man and Reptile alike suffered the same fate as the flora wherever they were unfortunate enough to make contact with the lethal ring, their shrill cries betraying the extent of the cruel punishment they endured. The Singer exulted to hear such wickedness.
Eldor planted his Dragon Tooth staff in response, creating a barrier to impede the spreading poison. "My King, watch out!" one of Mekasha's soldiers warned. It was too late as a short staff, traveling as true as an arrow smashed Mekasha's left wrist, loosing his grip on his sword. All too quickly both staff and sword flew back into the hands of the thrower, He- Ro.
"Surrender Hiss." He-Ro demanded. "Your army is outnumbered and your weapon has been lost. There is no need to further waste the lives of your warriors. Surrender and rejoin the Council, help us to defeat Hordak and restore order to Eternia."
But He-Ro had forgotten one thing. At Mekasha's back, sat the greatest artifact of power ever constructed and there was nothing to stop him from claiming it. "Snake Men, retreat into the fortress." He ordered. With their usual complicity the Snake Men fled into the Lion's maw.
As Mekasha came through the Lion's mouth shut, leaving the Snake Men in darkness. He tried a simple flame spell but found he could not summon forth any magic. "I have a flint!" a voice called out in the darkness, but every attempt to bring illumination fizzled out with little vigor. It was of little import to the reptiles, dark places were their sanctuary. Mekasha flicked out his tongue to find out what lay around them but tasted nothing.
The place was empty. There was no cold stone floor, nor walls for that matter. There seemed to be no end to this room, one could walk a straight line and not meet any barrier, even from the direction they entered. There was no air to breathe; it did not appear to exist. Yet none choked for lack of oxygen. Strangest of all, there was no blood. He could hear the worried murmuring of his men, yet he could not sense them any other way. No blood, no sweat, no emotion, it was as though they didn't exist but for the sounds they made. And try as he might, he could not touch them, for no matter he followed their voices he could not find them.
He fell to his knees. As accustomed as he was to uninviting places, this one made him queasy. Nothing, he was surrounded by nothing. He was all alone but for the voices, which became wails and later screams. It felt as though he was going mad, there was no comfort to find anywhere from anyone. It was not long before his thoughts returned to those who had done this to him. He had been tricked and betrayed by the humans and now imprisoned by them. How long he wondered, would he be forced to endure the agony of nothingness?
The rippling of the cool grass massaged his belly as he slid along the verdant ground. It was a privilege favored by few, to experience the gentle, moist kiss of flesh and sod. A simple pleasure so easily taken for granted when experienced over one's entire existence. He continued his sinuous crawl through the lush meadow, savoring in the mélange of tastes that slid along his tongue; dew tipped grass, aromatic perennials and the tender warmth of an afternoon sun caressed every sense. One could almost circle endlessly in the paradisiacal climes of Derren-Ma.Almost.
King Mekasha was not here on this day to revel in the bounties of this terran nirvana. Rather it was a grim task that lay before him. Today he and his fellows would battle the enemy. He could sense them wending their ways alongside and behind, their signatures wafted on the light zephyr that blew through the lea, coming to rest on his delicate taste-buds. Everything there was to tell of his fellows was contained in their signatures. There were no deceptions in the clan, trust was absolute and unquestionable. Today, their signatures spoke of obedience, and a determination to uphold that obedience. They would fall to the last to oversee a victory on this day.
A new concoction of smells intruded itself upon Mekasha's senses; stone, steel and blood. They were nearing their destination. Mekasha stopped, which also was a signal for his fellows to do the same, they complied automatically. Mekasha focused his thoughts, this was the part he had always hated, the pain was unbearable though brief, yet it yielded little, if any rewards.
He felt his skin stretch outwards, pulled taught yet still being pulled further. His scales split as they too were rudely forced apart until they stood on their tethered ends. He could feel tissue inside him calcifying into bone, its hardening mass tearing through his flesh until it settled in its various resting places. In every part of his body the fires of change raged and tormented until the process was complete. Even then Mekasha knelt weakly where he had only moments ago lay, waiting for the last of the flames to peter out and feeling to return. He held himself in this position a moment longer, allowing his senses to acclimate to his new form, allowing them to realize he now possessed limbs.
He stood slowly, lest the motion unsettle his stomach, and looked around. His fellows had undergone their transformations, some still unsure about their legs and knelt looking at their master. Mekasha could still taste their signatures and he could read the disgust they had for this bipedal form. They despised having to relinquish their skins for another, having to take a form that gave them two unsteady feet on which to balance instead of the graceful glide of their reptilian membranes.
Hated it as they did, their human forms gave them advantages previously denied. As men they could avoid the ground-fires that were so often used against them. They could wield the very weapons their enemies once used to slice them from safe distances, whilst using their shields to deflect the Snake Men's venomous strikes. With their second skins the clan of the Snake Men became a force comparable to any that the race of man could muster. Today, they would find out if they were superior.
Supply trains rumbled into view, bearing the weapons and armor the Snake Men would wear into combat. The wagons were drawn by horses and piloted by human slaves. The slaves were a warning to the Snake Men's opponents, that all men were inferior before their might. The carts had come to a halt and the Snake Men army began to outfit itself in the regalia of human war. Mail tunics, breastplates, gauntlets, boots, shields, swords, spears, bows, axes.the Snake Men held no qualms in using man's own ingenuity against them. It was man that provided these accoutrements as the Snake Men had pillaged them from the corpses of humankind, taken from the victims of the Snake Men's merciless parade. There was one particular bundle set aside for the reptilian King. Mekasha lifted it from the lead wagon and loosened its bindings. Gently unrolling the swag on the grass he took possession of the blade contained within - The Crimson Singer.
A blade of unique design, its steel tongue curved and bent until it reached its tip, reminiscent of its undulating masters. Mekasha turned the sword to catch the sunlight, allowing it to reflect the brilliant crimson hue ingrained into the steel's working. The hilt was nondescript in shape, rectangular and utilitarian. Beneath that leather-bound grip had been worked into a tight braid as it wound its way to the snake's head pommel. The Crimson Singer was the very blade that made the Snake Men the formidable foe they are. It was legend that when Serpentius, the first King of the Snake Men ascended to the Pantheon of the Gods he left behind this very artifact, a gift to his peoples to protect them from the prejudiced hordes of mankind. With the Singer in hand, few would strike against the Snake Men. The sword devoured the souls of those it slew, increasing in power each time blood flowed down its lithe blade. To the bearer it allowed feats of great magic to be borne, one could manipulate the elements, destroy entire cities or something as inconspicuous as shape-shifting. Their means of protection also became their means of dominion.
Mekasha turned to address his army. "Beyond that rise," he said pointing to a low hill, "our enemies await us." Mekasha's voice became laden with contempt. "They seek to exclude us from the Council of Elders, building this fortress without consulting us. Did they think we would not learn of this treachery?" Mekasha shook his head. "The World of Man believes itself superior to that of others, such as the Snake Men, they wish to operate the Council without the Star of Serpentius, without us!" If there was one thing that inflamed the reptile's egos, was the mistrust the general populace had shown towards them since their entry into the world of man. The normally stoic race took their leader's goading to heart and started to shift restlessly. "We will show them! We will demonstrate to them the power of our God, of the Crimson Singer and of our people!" Chants of Mekasha erupted from the assembled masses. "It is we, the Snake Men, who will tear from this world the race of man! We will shoot down the flight of Il Grando! We will extinguish the fires of Aohre! We will scorch the waves of Taymorana! We will annihilate them all and as long as the Snake Men stand, so will its control over this world!" Mekasha pointed once more to their destination. "Now we march to our destiny, to the destruction of humankind!"
As one the thousands of reptilian warriors moved forward in response to their King's charge. Fuelled by indignity and pride they strode. Each one of them mulling over endlessly the words imparted to them by their King. Mekasha tasted the growing feelings of rage carried in the air; the Singer started quivering in anticipation, sensing the impending battle. It would drink its fill from many cups today, its master would see to that.
As the Snake Men crested the rise their target rose into view. Three massive towers pierced the air above, these were the towers that comprised Fortress Eternia, the Council's grand attempt at a receptacle for their combined knowledge, wisdom and power. The entrance to one tower, Mekasha could see, was shaped into a lion's head. He surmised this was to symbolize the absolute supremacy of the law, the balance of all things. A second entrance was fashioned in the likeness of a skull; that was to show wisdom through age, knowledge all things of the Light. The third sported a serpent's head to demonstrate anger, hatred and all that was associated with the Dark. It was such because everything was about balance to the council; twelve seats on the council to represent twelve Gods, six male, six female, six of the Light, six of the Dark.
That was a farce, Meshaka knew, for he had no hand in this monstrosity's creation, nor would he share anything of his people's power with it. There was no balance in making this so called Fortress Eternia. So the Council went ahead without him, hoping to exclude him and his people from the governing of the land, ousting them from their rightful position on the Council. Meshaka was no fool and he would teach that fact in the most egregious manner possible.
Mekasha surveyed the Fortress. With the exception of their impressive adornments, the towers sported no discernible features, tapering straight up, ending in circular battlements. The only other defining feature of the Fortress was a single walkway connecting all three keeps. Tasting the air he could sense no life-forms on either the battlements or the catwalk. No ambush would come from there.
They marched on, getting nearer and nearer to the towers. They crested another rise and the fields flattened out. Waiting across the plain stood the legions of the Council. Mekasha felt his scales bristle at the sight of the opposition leaders - Eldor of the seat of Il Grando and He-Ro of the Star of Aohre. Of the other Council Members he could see no sign. Doubtless they were battling Hordak's forces at Altecom, the capital. That sat fine with him, it would only make his task easier.
He-Ro's voice carried across the grassy plain, "Reconsider your course!" he said. "If we war with each other then there can be no turning back. The balance of the Council will forever be upset and you know the consequences of that!"
"Hordak's rebellion has already disrupted your precious balance; my absence can do no damage that will not be wrought anyway." Mekasha responded.
"If you join with us Snake King, we can defeat Hordak and force the selection of a new Horde Prime. We can stop the prophesied doom from happening. Together, we can bring Eternia into a new era of peace and prosperity." Eldor pleaded.
"And then what?" asked Mekasha, "Once you have your victory and your Golden Age then what becomes of us?" He looked at his human foes, their faces reading nothing but true intentions but their scents reeked of betrayal. "Eternians do not trust the Snake Men, they judge us on our appearance and proclaim us inferior. It is no secret you would have me dead, removing me and my kind forever from the council. Do not think for one moment that I am deceived by your candied words. The Snake Men will die before submitting itself to the treachery of a false Council!"
He-Ro looked grave and Eldor nodded as though expecting to hear nothing else. "Then on your own head be it.King Hiss."
Gritting his teeth and tightening his grip on The Singer, Mekasha had to practice all his restraint to not charge the field and run the Council head through right then. 'Hiss', it was what every ignorant Eternian called the Snake Men. 'Hiss', the sound they made whenever the Snake Men passed through. Well he would cut the tongues from their throats then they could hiss no more. "For Serpentius!" he cried and the army of the Snake Men charged across the plain.
The humans quickly responded. "For the Dragon's honour!" Eldor shouted and his troops sprang forward. "By the light of Aohre's Fire!" He-Ro yelled and his forces charged forward.
In moments the lines collided and the deafening ringing of blade on blade shattered the peaceful meadow. The Snake Men fought savagely, fuelled by pride and indignation. The humans fought on survival instincts, knowing full well what the cost of defeat would be. Mekasha could see his line sliding to the right and realized the Eternians were trying to herd them that way, setting up a wall of flesh and steel between them and the fortress.
"Press their middle, split their forces in two!" Mekasha shouted to his army. Serpentine warriors rushed the mid-most point of the Eternian lines quickly obeying their king. Mekasha himself led the charge, cutting a swathe through the Eternians with The Crimson Singer grasped firmly in both hands. With each fallen enemy the Singer throbbed, its power growing as it fed upon the blood of its victims. The Snake Men knifed easily through the guts of the Eternian van, a path to Fortress Eternia opened up before them. Though they were sandwiched between Eldor's and He-Ro's forces the victor would be he who claimed the Castle.
The Eternians then fought to reclaim the breach, closing in the narrow Snake Men line. Once they succeeded in splitting the Reptile forces in two a horn sounded from the North and across the plain two more armies galloped. Mekasha recoiled as he realized that Injaira, seat of S'Bledse and Morod of the J'Dange seat rode at their head. The Snake Men were now vastly outnumbered and would be crushed in a head on battle.
"Snake Men! Behind me!" he commanded. They moved to comply quickly, a sea of scaly bodies rushed past their King as he raised his sword high in the air. He would give the traitors a demonstration of The Singer's capabilities. "Now Eternians!" he bellowed. "Taste the venom of the Snake Men!" and plunged the sword into the lush land.
A black halo started to spread outwards from the Snake Men and its purpose became gruesomely clear. The evergreen earth blackened and shriveled to oblivion. Man and Reptile alike suffered the same fate as the flora wherever they were unfortunate enough to make contact with the lethal ring, their shrill cries betraying the extent of the cruel punishment they endured. The Singer exulted to hear such wickedness.
Eldor planted his Dragon Tooth staff in response, creating a barrier to impede the spreading poison. "My King, watch out!" one of Mekasha's soldiers warned. It was too late as a short staff, traveling as true as an arrow smashed Mekasha's left wrist, loosing his grip on his sword. All too quickly both staff and sword flew back into the hands of the thrower, He- Ro.
"Surrender Hiss." He-Ro demanded. "Your army is outnumbered and your weapon has been lost. There is no need to further waste the lives of your warriors. Surrender and rejoin the Council, help us to defeat Hordak and restore order to Eternia."
But He-Ro had forgotten one thing. At Mekasha's back, sat the greatest artifact of power ever constructed and there was nothing to stop him from claiming it. "Snake Men, retreat into the fortress." He ordered. With their usual complicity the Snake Men fled into the Lion's maw.
As Mekasha came through the Lion's mouth shut, leaving the Snake Men in darkness. He tried a simple flame spell but found he could not summon forth any magic. "I have a flint!" a voice called out in the darkness, but every attempt to bring illumination fizzled out with little vigor. It was of little import to the reptiles, dark places were their sanctuary. Mekasha flicked out his tongue to find out what lay around them but tasted nothing.
The place was empty. There was no cold stone floor, nor walls for that matter. There seemed to be no end to this room, one could walk a straight line and not meet any barrier, even from the direction they entered. There was no air to breathe; it did not appear to exist. Yet none choked for lack of oxygen. Strangest of all, there was no blood. He could hear the worried murmuring of his men, yet he could not sense them any other way. No blood, no sweat, no emotion, it was as though they didn't exist but for the sounds they made. And try as he might, he could not touch them, for no matter he followed their voices he could not find them.
He fell to his knees. As accustomed as he was to uninviting places, this one made him queasy. Nothing, he was surrounded by nothing. He was all alone but for the voices, which became wails and later screams. It felt as though he was going mad, there was no comfort to find anywhere from anyone. It was not long before his thoughts returned to those who had done this to him. He had been tricked and betrayed by the humans and now imprisoned by them. How long he wondered, would he be forced to endure the agony of nothingness?