Man. What a weak species. Not even capable of dealing with themselves, they are weak and pathetic. In a place that could only be described as a void of pitch black, there was a figure of even darker shade, bright blue flames the only color as diamond shaped eyes peered into a globe of even darker, writhing mass.
Weak and pathetic they may be, but how ever so entertaining they were.
They feared their demise that all of them would reach at one point or another. Feared the idea of simply closing their eyes, to never open them again. Never see the next day, never aspiring to their fruitless dreams.
It was rather humorous, how they decided to make their demise into two things: Ultimate punishment or ultimate pleasure. Many aspired to reach their "Heaven", to meet their loved ones, last for eternity with their puny "gods". Either that, or they were sent to their ultimate damnation, where they would rot and writhe in their respective punishment, to be their for all eternity.
Well, at least they were close to the truth.
They would reach their punishment or their salvation, but it wasn't entirely as they thought. There was a sickening cackle that echoed throughout the never ending void of dark matter, the flaming blue eyes that were that of the dark creature almost as twinkling with mirth.
Gods...how pathetic. To think some puny creature bearing the same shape and morals as themselves would be their greeters to the afterlife, thinking that it was they who ruled the Underdark.
Those "Gods" were nothing but pathetic souls given a scrap of power from the never ending expanse of the Void, the endless Shadow.
A wet sound similar to that of disgust rippled through the dark matter. They thought that their weak deities and gods would take their souls to their final destination. How pathetic.
So quick are mortals to forget those that really choose their fates, whether out of the right decision, or more commonly, their own amusement. Another sickening chuckle echoed out, two hands of the purest black gently cupping the black orb in front of the soulless creature.
Oh, he relishes the times he gets to see their puny souls quiver in fear, their even weaker voices begging for a chance, a true salvation. From kings to peasants, those that worked and those that lazed about, throwing their weight around or squirming under the boot of those more powerful than they, he feels nothing but pure glee when he can make those drawled out decisions, making the souls of the dead quiver and tremble, before being condemned to the fate he sends them too.
Many a time, he simply sent them to a damnation just for what mortals call "fun". When you're a creature of the purest dark and ultimate sway of the soul, it simply becomes a way of life never to experience joy and outright emotion by ones self, only drawing out the sensual pleasures through action, not coherent and puny action in the darkness of the Void.
But those times are...no. There is tell of time in this endless plane. The border between final destination and the physical plane. Purgatory...yes, a fitting name.
Countless worlds, but none could ever fully fill the scope of these dark creatures, the lesser ones basking in the pleasure of ultimate choice and powerful sway. To his own people and the mortals, he could be considered a god's right hand, but in reality, he would slay that so called god before ever becoming a servant.
With truly reaching a greater power came the price of the only emotion he would feel, only the unforgettable memories bringing that sensual feeling to his wisping chest.
Their was another grunt of disgust. How utterly disgusting. A higher power...right. That was just another form of expressing he needed to make room for the newer Spawn, let the new bask in emotion and glory, while the experienced simply lose their basic "fun", forced to watch over their given mortal wufrus, or world.
That doesn't mean his wasn't interesting, oh, far from it.
Blue diamonds of fire narrowed as they took a slight sick delight in the pure...emotion radiating from the small mortal, fiercely watching as the female cowered in the dark, a violent shudder wracking her body.
Oh yes little mortal, death is watching...
The pure ecstasy of that small fraction of emotion he could feel vanished as a dark claw and several gaping maws tore into her, those small sensual feelings being replaced by a dull numbness.
Those little slivers of old ecstasy only appeared during times where true emotion was seen, and that was far and few in between. This was only a sliver of that sliver, but it was enough for the old Spawn to feel a...what do mortals call it? Ah, a shiver of joy. If only he had a beating heart, or a soul, it would surely be pounding to the smallest feeling his black wispy body could feel.
A growl ripped out of a non-existent maw, the darkness around it churning and coming unraveled.
No more.
Higher calling his soulless corpse. He needed those old feelings now. The black orb dissipated in a flash of black flame, replacing with something all Spawn hold in their pits of missing soul.
His weapon, his scythe.
There were two parts: the scythe itself, huge and plain, but deadly and made to slice, cut and dance through those against the blade, the other, a smaller off-hand one with an icy blade, made to bring the chill of death to those they hunted back when his people roamed the physical plane.
There was a noiseless cut through the very fabric of his world, black and white flecked, a pure tear opened, black claws gripping the edges. Tearing it open with a grunt of pure numb anger and muted frustration, the hole widened enough to fit his massive body, the outside a cracked image of a dark forest, nothing seen but smattering of nature and moonlit plains.
The thought of the disgrace his higher calling would be giving him for leaving his position, taking this selfish action never stopped the Spawn, never slowed the struggle as it forced itself through the quickly cracking image.
With a force of empty defiance, the pure lack of emotion muted and perverted to this soulless mass unable to be made real, the black wisps of the creature settling to fit through the quickly closing gate.
With a crack of what mortals call glass, and the portal closed.
There was an odd feeling on the wispy body, sizzling of something dying around it, and then a horribly dark and maddening cackle pierced the dark.
He did it...he was on wufrus.