Have I been forsaken? Has the Dark God truly betrayed us? These were the final thoughts of the failed usurper, Ma'lash. In the ancient right of Rak'Shir, where any warrior may challenge another to take their position, Ma'lash had been defeated. His opponent, who he had previously taken the mantle of "Highlord '' from, Alarak, gave him one, last, gloating look before he was cast into the fiery pits of Slayn. With no further thoughts, Ma'lash braced himself to be consumed by flame, but before it could be, he found himself in a lightless space, surrounded only by void and shadow. Is this the Void? he thought to himself as he tried desperately to see anything.
Indeed it is, my fallen servant, a familiar voice answered. The voice of his god, Amon, now rang through Ma'lash's mind.
I apologize for my failure, Dark One, grant me one more attempt to prove my loyalty to you, and I will succeed, Ma'lash replied, kneeling and bowing his head.
And so it shall be, servant, Amon replied, as crackling, red energies appeared before Ma'lash, giving way to a red, opaque portal. Now… I shall grant you the knowledge needed to carry out my will. Ma'lash braced himself as a rush of knowledge filled his mind. Knowledge of language, genetics, and science of a race that he had never encountered before. Go forth, servant, and carry out my grand designs.
Without reply, Ma'lash marched through the portal, and found himself amidst a dark, barren desert that appeared to stretch on for eternity. He looked in every direction, and, failing to find any sign of civilization, simply walked forward, his heavy, black and red spiked armor causing him to sink into the sand. Not but a little while later, he reached the summit of a large dune and, below, he could see what he surmised was his purpose. An oasis, and, around it, a burgeoning civilization that glittered in the night.
Ma'lash confidently marched himself down towards this, where he was set upon by what he recognized as three blonde-haired, hooded Terrans. At least… they were remarkably similar to Terrans. Bipedal. Soft. Mouths. Noses. Five digits on each hand. Small. Pathetic. They did, however, possess a kind of appearance and energy that was foreign to him. Each of them raised primitive projectile weapons at him. Bows, from what Ma'lash could see.
"Can you understand me, monster?" One of the beings demanded as it tightened its grip on the bowstring. Ma'lash was simultaneously surprised, amused, and in awe of Dark God's power. For he did, indeed, understand these creatures immediately. As the Terran-like beings looked poised to strike, he knew he needed to establish his presence and let these lesser beings know their place.
Raising one hand and casually waving it at two of his would-be attackers, he unleashed a rush of red, psionic energy that pushed each of his prospective assailants away while disarming them. While they were stunned by this sudden attack, Ma'lash walked up to the closest one, a short-haired Terran-like being, and grabbed him by his neck, causing his hood to fall back and revealing long, pointed ears that Ma'lash had seen no human possess before.
Oh? You are not Terrans. At least not as I know them, Ma'lash spoke, psionically, into the three elves' minds, causing each of them to clasp their heads and their countenances become gripped with terror. Now it is MY turn, do you understand ME, primitives? The elf in his hand nodded, his face frozen in silent terror. Good. Now-
Before Ma'lash could finish, one of the other beings, feeling bold, rushed to strike at him with a blade. Ma'lash, noticing, but feeling this would be a good, teachable moment, allowed the knife to strike his shield, causing the Terran-like being to drop his blade and cry out in pain as he dropped to his knees.
This will make a fine example, Ma'lash told the three elves as he reached out his free hand to the pained attacker, placing it near to the being's face as their eyes widened with horror. The other two elves looked on in shared horror as red energy seemed to be forcefully drawn from their comrade and absorbed into this pale, red-and-black armored, behemoth of a creature they had never seen before.
As the energy drained, their companion's body began to wither. As though he were aging rapidly. It looked as though centuries were passing in mere moments for him. That was, until, eventually, he was nought but a husk, which Ma'lash cruelly, and gleefully, kicked, causing it to crumble to dust and blow away into the desert, leaving only the clothes of the former being behind.
Now, where were we? Ah, yes, Ma'lash mused as he brought the still choking and struggling being in his hand directly to his eye line. Where am I?
"N-Nephtys," the grappled elf struggled to respond as he continued to gasp for air. The other elf had now scrambled to get up and began sprinting away from the two. Ma'lash, slightly amused at this desperate, pathetic display, felt this would be another fine lesson for these primitives as he merely raised his free hand and let loose a concentrated red psionic blast that, on contact with the fleeing elf, caused a raucous explosion of energy that left nothing behind but a small wisp of smoke and the smell of burnt flesh and ozone.
I believe I've made my point, primitive, Ma'lash stated as he dropped the elf in his hand.
The elf immediately crumpled into a coughing, heaving mess, rubbing his tender throat gingerly. Ma'lash, uncaring of this struggling being's plight, leaned over the being while forcefully turning the elf's head to meet his gaze. Now, go back to your people, and tell them their time of suffering is nearly at its end. At that, Ma'lash shoved the elf down away from him as he straightened up, continuing to look down both physically and metaphorically on this terrified being below him and raising his arms for his next grand proclamation to no one but this one elf, For their new Highlord, Ma'lash, has come to deliver them from ignorance and the pain of the infinite cycle!