The Power Of Devour

The Elfs Of MøTash

Magmatic steel churned in the refineries below, the Psytrospectors gathered to oversee their work is done correctly. Dwarf slaves work at the facilities below, making sure every drop of liquefied, molten metal is properly poured into the right molds. 

For they were building a new world order, a God of metal and mechanisms so complex it would boggle the Lesser Men who fight them in vain. Operating the grand apparatus that measures the heat control, and pouring speed of the metalworks, is the Machine Dragon, Görk. Lifeless, soulless, it knows only the will of the tyrannical wizard class known as the Psytrospectors, rulers of the depths of the mind and the stars. 

Nomad conquerors implant themselves on a thriving ecosystem, overtime draining it of all limited resources, and plundering the natural renewables to the point they’ve lost their function in the ecosystem. Oceans drained to nothing, soil dug up for nutrients and disposed of as toxic garbage. 

Nothing valuable, even bio-material would be left, oftentimes planets would implode under the pressure of such cruel harvesting, while others become decayed husks of hollowed rock. That is where they acquired dwarfs, a race they conquered from a distant world, who had the abilities intellectually to follow instruction and follow their plans in construction. 

Also more importantly they lack the higher intellect to use their own technology to supplant their rule, which is why the diminutive race had become their slaves. 

Grand Psytrospectors pointed out with his wand at the new smelter he personally designed to the others of the Elite Council. 

“See how it not only heats it, but makes sure the molecules of the metals and alloys retain heat during the pouring and molding process.” the others feigned interest at his self-aggrandizing. “Truly only I could’ve created this instrument that will see us reach leaps and bounds in our evolution.” 

Evolution for the Psytrospectors was not a bodily alteration that is passed on by one generation to the next, it was a singular growth in their minds. For they were psychically linked to their God, KhȀɄash, the Deity Of Rings. Rings being the mark of any wizard who has achieved some semblance of supernatural power, and all are granted onto those deemed worthy by the God. 

However unknown to the Psytrospectors their super natural powers have been stripped, a tragedy they did not know as they have wholly turned to the advancement of their machines and sciences. At that point they did not even wear their rings, and have them smelted and precious metals used to create Görk, making the dragon apart of KhȀɄash’s divine enthrallment. 

If the God choose to, KhȀɄash could give Görk consciousness and smite the infidels who claw at power after forsaking the ultimate. No matter, KhȀɄash found a true champion of the philosophy of Rings, to Devour for power at the cost of sacrifice. 

On the world of MøTash, where the Psytrospectors have landed their spherical ship to dig up precious metals before total conquest, the God has found a champion. 

Worn, beaten, and horribly mutilated, the elf man, known as Falcure, has been captured by the Lesser Men of the planet, the primordial humans who are more akin to Borth (ape men) than humans. 

Observing from his sphere of high grandiose, a reality of true, unadulterated strength and growth, the divine being watched as the elf languished in the dungeon, having absorbed all knowledge of the elf’s past, present, and was currently planning his future. 

Protecting his family and clan, he was travelling with them into the mountains in fear of the encroaching Sub-Humans and their warbands. When they were ambushed, logs blocked their path, and ape-men with scimitars and whips, tried to corner them for slaughter and imprisonment. 

The War Lord Closh was there, wearing clogs stained with blood, riding a chariot adorned with the bones of his enemies. Falcure, Sword Master of the Six Schools of swordplay, slaughtered any who approached his family, but he was unable to reach his wife and children who were separated by a group of the Sub-Humans. 

Lashing at them with whips, they were corralled into the path of Closh’s chariot which mowed them down, breaking their bodies, to lifeless lumps of flesh. Enraged he leapt at Closh and dug his sword into his chest, digging it down till it ripped his inside his twang, and after his sword broke leaving only a inch of jagged blade, he fought the last hundred men of the warband. 

This heroic struggle for vengeance gave his clan a chance to escape, and throughout the evening he killed sixty of them, before he was brought down by arrows and spears. His chest was shot with six arrows, and a spear went through his left knee, but he kept fighting, till blood loss made him lose consciousness. 

Next day he was taken to the warband’s stronghold, Oubliette Tower, a tower built inside of a pit, which formally served as a prison. Now Closh and his sons use it to imprison enemies against his tyrannical rule. Imprisoning more evolved humans, and torturing and raping them (man or woman) to satisfy their carnal savageries. 

Falcure awoke to a stinging pain in his pack, and being bound by cuffs and chains, that suspended him from the ceiling, and he was suspended over a pit, where he was chained to an anvil that stretched at his torso. 

“You elf prick.” squealed an inbred Borth imp, who wore the mask of a torturer. “Closh died last night, so his son, Clug, made me in charge of you. He wants your skin for him—” the imp started to crackle in perverse joy “—your nose, your skin, and your manhood. Manhood first, dinnertime is coming up.” 

Using spiked claps he tightened Falcure’s genitals and sawed it off at the stem with a saw, and then slowly dug into the pelvis till he could take the rest of the genital at the root, leaving a bloodied cavity. 

Clug a half-deranged man-child, towered over the others of the warband, who ate his supper in the torture chamber the elf was kept in, as he ate the cooked meat slowly in front of his prisoner. The torturer imp then cut off the elf’s nose and fed it to a rat nearby, as Clug watched giggling to himself as if he were watching a puppet show, clapping and cheering on the imp. 

“Come on, I am getting bored, take his skin next.” At that order, the imp sliced and peeled back the flesh from every inch of the elf, and to the surprise of the imp, that didn’t kill Falcure. He had been born of the primordial bloodline of great power he had yet untapped, so he was un-killable as long as he had the will to survive, and he had the desire to survive to kill evils like the sub-human warband. 

Rage overcame the fleshless elf, as he saw the corpses of his wife and children brought before him, to be chewed at by rats. Snarling in hate, he struggled at his binds, gnashing his teeth, as the imp and Clug laughed at him, even as his face turned into a visage of a demon. Long, beautiful elf hair had turned silver to a stained crimson that would never wash out thereafter. 

“Kill this nose-less freak, he is boring me, crack his skull till his brains leak out.” 

Obeying his master, the imp picked up a stone hammer, and began smashing it into the back of the elf’s skull. Cracking the bone, and causing blood to pour over the already bloodied form of Falcure. Still Falcure wriggled and struggled for freedom, his blood causing him to slip from the cuffs, just as the imp was about to crack his skull open, he fell from the ceiling cuffs into the pit. 

Plummeting a dozen feet into darkness, Falcure landed on the anvil he was still chained to, cracking his hip bone; he would’ve been completely crippled if he didn’t land on the soft, rotting remains of a pile of corpses. Slipping from the cuffs around his ankles, he raised off the ground and vainly tried to navigate the darkness. 

“Curse these apes!” Falcure didn’t pray to his Gods, for they were Gods of endless mercy that valued life and kindness over killing even to preserve life. “Blight on the world, they chase us from shore to the edges of darkness, my people need salvation. I pray, I pray for strength! Power, I demand it, to save myself, and avenge my family! Give me the power to protect and to exact revenge! God or Devil, hear me, grant me this boon…” he collapsed in the endless darkness, starting to lose a grip of his sanity, as the pain that covered his body was brutalizing his resolve. 

“COME TO ME CHILD OF THE MOON, YOU HAVE BEEN GRANTED AN AUDIENCE WITH THE SUN.” The words he heard were alien, frightful, but he followed them, as he stumbled in the darkness, and moist rot, he began to see a distant pillar of light. Crimson and awash with twinkling sparks of mystical energy. Coming to it, he stood in light to see the horrendous state of his body, he realized death was inevitable, as even his willpower to survive can’t overcome the unflinching reality of such drastic damage. 

“Amusing, you see only the failings of the flesh, and not the triumph of the spirit, you could live if he accepted a new reality, not the only imposed on you by your limited nature. I offer you the powers of evolution, accept it and be my champion, and what you desire at this moment shall be your purpose, your new life's recourse. Allow me to embrace you, and you shall live anew.” 

Falcure heard stories of such bargains with otherworldly beings, Gods beyond the Holy Trinity his people worship, the Forbidden Fourth was calling him to resign his old faith. Could he have two Masters? Two faiths? No, he was to die as he was, allowing such evil that destroyed his body and his family to fester, or he could accept the offer, despite his ignorance and gut feelings of future regret. 

“I accept this proposal, so long as I don’t harm the innocent.” his legs weakened then and he collapsed onto his knees as his hip bone made a stomach churning cracking sound. 

“I do not care for sinners or saints, innocent or guilty will be your choice, however you shall abide by call to arms, but rest assured those who have earned by ire are well deserved of your wraith according to your philosophy of morality. Now accept this token, the ring of devour, it shall consume you, and REBIRTH YOU.” 

From the light came a ring, a perfect, unblemished piece of jewelry made of crimson gold, as bright as blood in the sunlight, and as warm as a hot summer day to the touch. Grabbing it in his fleshless hand, his blood was sponged up by the bizarre talisman that was showing glowing writing of some language he couldn’t comprehend at the moment. 

Fɇॲୃ Ɏொᆊㄊ strength, oḃéൕ Ýȏᆓऋ.

Placing the ring around his ring finger, he felt nothing, the light faded, and he was trapped in darkness, his body unable to move, as his hip was broken, and he was losing too much blood to move. Breathing became a laborious chore, as he fell to his side, and became smothered by stinking, slimy, rotted flesh. 

“He is in here for sure.'' He heard a voice say, it was the voice of the Imp, letting in Clug and two of his men. “There he is, looks like he didn’t survive the fall.” 

“How boring!” bellowed the newly appointed Warlord. “His penis was no good either, let the dogs in and have at him.” opening the doors wider, the men there allowed the Hound-Master in to let loose a pair of his most vicious dogs onto the fleshless elf. 

“Seek ‘em” blurted the mangled Sub-Human as he unleashed his ravenous, crazed half-wolves who charged at the smell of blood. Climbing up the mountain of bodies to the glistening crimson body, the fanged creatures dug their fangs into the legs of Falcure. 

Snap!

Closing their jaws around what they thought was flesh, had broken every tooth in their mouths, as they whined in pain, as blood drooled from their mouths. Going to their handler's side, they begged for him to ease their pain. 

“What happened to you boys?” The Hound-Master checked their mouths, and saw them filled with fragments of broken teeth and bloody drool. “Must’ve bitten into bone.” 

“Or just some bad dogs.” Clug lifted his cudgel and caved in one of the hounds skull, and was about to kill the other one, when he heard a challenge that offended his sense of superiority. 

“You vile ape! I shall do to you, what you did to that beast.” 

“Who said that!? Was it you, you disgusting worm!?” Clug picked up the Hounse-Master by his neck and shook him like a chicken. 

“No Clug, I swear I didn’t.” 

“I did.” All of the Sub-Humans looked upon the elf corpse that was now sitting upright, looking upon them, but this was a different elf from what they had tortured and thought utterly deceased. 

A crimson skull with eyes of golden, solemn rage, hair as radiant as a blood moon on a cold winter's night, and whose fleshless muscles became full body armor of some alien metal. A crown of twisted metal in bizarre orients ringed his scalp, looking as if he were a lordly monarch of the Underworld. 

“Do you people have Gods?” the elf asked, as he pointed at them with his clawed gauntlet. 

None of the Sub-Humans answered, they were awestruck in fear, for witnessing what they believed was a summoning of some demon of a druid cult. Squealing in fear, Clug tried to run out of the chamber, but the door was swung shut by a gust of wind that blew hard enough to seal the door shut. 

“You pathetic ape-things, you don’t even understand mercy, do you? You are not worth allowing to live in this precious world. For pity’s sake I’ll end you, not for justice alone, but to alleviate some of the more vile traits from the rest of your race, so they can evolve into something more transcendent.” 

Rising to his feet, the elf approached Clug, who tried to hide behind his subordinates, but they all fled his side, as they didn’t want to suffer his fate. Quivering in fear, Clug tried to lift his cudgel but his weapon got on fire suddenly, and he dropped it on the floor, as he blew on his burnt hand, as it blistered. 

“Please spare me.” the large ape-man whimpered, as he fell to his knees before the elf wizard. “I won’t do anymore against elfs I promise, I’ll go back, I’ll leave this land, please, don’t hurt me, please.” tears dropped in his eyes and Falcure was surprised at his sense of pity. 

He wished to avenge himself and his family, but he already killed the slayer of his family, and his own pain and suffering was mitigated by his sense of mercy. 

Allowing the doors to open he watched as he rose to his feet and saw his freedom presented to him, but he was grabbed by his tunic and pulled in close so his face was inches from the horrific elf’s new skull face. 

“Listen to my words, for I will not repeat them, these lands are forever forbidden to all your race and your progenitors for all eternity. If any human returns here they will be met with curses and vile enchantments beyond your comprehension. And to solidify this in your mind, tell all what you witnessed here, for any trespasser's fate will be worse than what I do on this one.” 

Turning his eyes to his torturer, the imp, he levitated the diminutive man into the air, as he tried to hide behind one of the other taller men. Writhing screaming for mercy, the elf did not have enough sympathy for the imp to forgive him for the anguish he put onto his body, and after all he needed to set an example. 

Slowly the imp started to twitch, as his words came out as muted huffs of air, as everything in the room became unbearably hot, as fire started to flicker about from nowhere. Then from the inside out, sparks of fire started to come out of every orifice from the imp, as he tried to scream out, fire shot outwards, and melted the imp from the inside out, as his insides liquefied and dripped onto the floor. 

Finally as the last bit of the imps insides were squeezed out, he took the empty stretch of flesh that was once filled with the imps insides, and had it levitate into the air. Then Falcure raised his other hand, and as the ring around his finger glowed he pulled up something from Clug’s stomach. Breathing hard, the giant man couldn’t stop what was happening, and a large throbbing lump forced its way from up his stomach, and choked him as it inched its way up his throat. 

Harder than rock, the length of meat was suffocating him, and as he fell over and his face turned blue, the head of a tremendously sized penis penetrated through Clug’s mouth, splitting his face cheeks to accommodate its size. Coughing up vomit and blood, Clug was disfigured as the rejuvenated and empowered elf’s manhood he ate freed itself from his insides. 

Taking the newly removed skin of the imp, he altered both, tailoring them for his new body, fusing the penetrating appendage to his formerly genitalless groin, and covering his naked body with a toga of flesh that wrapped itself around his body. 

Turning to face the humbled and mutilated Clug, Falcure made sure his former captor’s face was close to the outline of his massive genitals. 

“Take your people and go, spread the word that in three days, if any still reside here in these lands, they will suffer a far worse fate. Go now, and never return.” At that warning the men fled, and within hours, the warband gathered their supplies and goods and fled back west where they came from, leaving behind the plunder they stole along the way, and freeing the elfs they enslaved. 

However before they went, Falcure allowed the formerly imprisoned elf people a chance to enact vengeance on their former captors. Many followed the tenets of mercy and allowed their former captors to leave. Those that did take their justice reveled in the spilled innards of the Sub-Humans, making those that were spared understand the concepts of mercy and restraining violent urges. 

Those elfs freed followed their people to the east, leaving Falcure to spread his message to others of the sub-race. Giving the same chance as Clug’s people, while freeing any of his people in captivity. 

***

Three days passed, and only a fifth of the Sub-Humans heeded his warnings, as the others arrogantly remained, as they prepared to push further east, to torment more of the elf people. 

As dawn rose on the fourth day, another warband headed into the wooded highlands, eager to hunt down more elfs to use as slaves or butchered meat. Even those Falcure warned in person, having seen his power over the supernatural, decided to band together and form an army to defeat the elf wizard. 

Calling him the Red Devil, they gathered their own occultist together, to form a vanguard, wielding various totems of their heathen Gods and spirits. Chanting a ritualistic song beseeching their pagan deities to smite the devil who challenges their authority to conquer the lands. This however was in vain, as Falcure true to his word, materialized before the army and the caravans of women and children they brought to spread their barbaric race. 

Addressing the hundreds of lives before him, Falcure recognized innocents in the mass, but knew that if he spared some, it would inspire cruel and ignorant hearts to lead the gullible into the forbidden lands. 

“I will weep for those of you who come here not of your own free will, or are unknowing of your fates. Those of you that come here, having heard my warnings, and paid no heed, may you all drown in the deluge of my regret.” from his eyes then came drops of tears, that steadily then rapidly turned to floodwaters. Pouring down the slope of the highlands, the waters swept away the army and the caravan of men, women, and children, drowning them in the salty waters of death. 

From the tears shed by the elf wizard came a new lake, a lake that separated the elf lands from those the Sub-Humans laid claim to; they were fatal waters to those not of Falcure’s race. Any descendant of humans that crossed the waters or tried to bypass them by any means would be swallowed by the grey waters of Death Lake. 

Bodies of those that drowned would be forever preserved by the salt water at the bottom of the lake, Falcure would occasionally walk at the bottom of the lake to look upon the dead, with a mix of satisfaction and remorse. From then on all the lower race of Humans and all their cousins were banished from elf country, which became known as the Other World to humankind. 

Returning to his people, Falcure was found he was not welcome by his kind, as they recognized he had forsaken their teachings, taking up with the evils of the Fourth. The dissenting wickedness that branched off their Holy Trinity, and pulls the soul down to the underworld, where the soul perverts itself in the ways of defiling. 

There were some elfs that believed exiling Falcure was unfit for their savior and threatened to separate themselves from the rest. However Falcure recognized he betrayed the teachings of the elf church and decided to exile himself, and forbade any violence or protest against the decision. 

“I did this to save you all, and to avenge those that have fallen. I see what I have become is not for those of righteous souls. I pray, do not follow my example, I am a deviant, and following me will only lead to division and suffering.” 

Though there were those that didn’t Falcure’s words denouncing himself, they took an oath not to commit violence on their own race. Instead they started their own cult worshipping the Fourth, believing it was the Holy Tetra, despite the Churches forbidding this, they practiced in seclusion. 

“Do you see what you have done?” the Master Elf said to Falcure one day sometime after his exile. At the secluded refuge on a solitary plateau of Coprhüin, the elf hierarchy would meet with Falcure who kept his true sanctum a secret from others. “This cult that worships you will erode our morals, and eventually we’ll fracture, like two trees sharing the same roots. One tree will offer nourishment, and the second will produce nothing but poison, your poison.” 

“I did not do this to harm my people, I did it for justice and our salvation. What would you have done, if you had faced such a choice?” Falcure began to become irritated with the resentment spread by the leaders of his people, that he used to have respect for, but now saw as fragile and fearful elders. 

“I would have had faith, faith that we would have found our salvation.” that made Falcure scoff, as he turned his macabre face to look at the Master Elf, who couldn’t hide the fear in his eyes. 

“Faith is nothing without retribution for the wrongs done to the innocent. I am that retribution, I am your savior. If you rebuke me, fine, but I will not stop protecting you, and I will intervene if it is for the good of my people.”

“We are not your people.” the older elf scolded the wizard, who suddenly was overcome with anger, and seized the Master Elf’s throat with his clawed gauntlet. Cold metal gripped the aged flesh, and bruised it with the constricting grip. 

Realizing the harm he was doing, Falcure released his hold, and apologized. “I am sorry, I didn’t—” he realized his words and didn’t finish his words.”

“You didn’t mean to hurt me. It is the way of the Fourth, you are descending further, seeing your own people as lesser, eventually we’ll be to you, as what we consider insects. The power granted to you has a dire cost, you are losing your elfmanity.” 

Heeding the elder’s words, Falcure resolved to retain a fragment of love and humility by placing an enchantment upon himself, a limiter to forestall his growing powers. Speaking a prayer to the Holy Trinity, he sealed away much of his power to the point that he could hardly be called a wizard. 

The seal would only break under extreme stress brought on by great need for more power to protect others or save his own life. Mindful however that such growing supernatural power if suppressed would erupt in a near cataclysmic eruption. 

“I will retain my faith, and I am sorry I…” he couldn’t find the words to convey his sense of remorse for what happened. He wasn’t sorry he reached for the Fourth, but he realized the cost others would pay for his own sin. Resting his face in his hands, Master Elf saw a terrible talisman of an evil God on his former beloved's charged finger. 

“Falcure, do you know the writing on the ring you wear?” 

Lifting his head, the crimson elf looked on the ring, and saw the lettering of the alien writing, it was nothing he saw before, having sealed his powers he was unable to read the text. 

“I cannot read it now, I have limited myself too much.” 

“It doesn’t take power to read it, just wisdom, and it is indeed words that should be your creed. Fear Your Strength, Obey Your Power.”

Confused, Falcure didn’t understand the meaning of those words. “Tell me what it means.” 

“I cannot, for if I did, it would sound hollow, and you would not follow them, you may even purposefully avoid it, you must come to understand it, perhaps there is hope for you yet.” With that the Master Elf said his farewells and left Falcure to contemplate his new existence, lamenting the life and the role he used to have with his family and people. 

***

Months passed since Falcure was exiled from the rest of his people, and already turmoil began, not just with the conflict between the Church and rising Cult Of The Fourth, but also a growing sickness that came upon the elf realm. 

Soil would become grey and kill vegetation, it began around the slopes of the northern mountains, but progressed as time went on, soon even wildlife began to die slowly. Poisoned by the waters that flow from the mountains. Curious of what was happening in the uncharted north, scouts were sent to see where the source of the poisoning was. Several groups were sent, only three elfs returned, driven mad by some terrible blight that had stricken them of sanity. 

Two killed themselves after they were placed into houses of healing, and the last became catatonic. One night as a priest was going to check on the sole surviving elf, there he saw Falcure standing over the comatose elf, placing a hand on the other’s head. 

Turning to look at the priest, the elf was afraid, having fully believed in the heinous stories spread by the more anti-cult elfs in the Church. 

“Fear not, I know of the source of sickness. He will sleep, and awake ignorant to the horrors that have put him in such a state.” with that Falcure vanished, leaving the priest stunned at what he just witnessed. 

***

The Spherical Ship of the Psytrospectors had latched itself upon the towering peaks like a tick draining life from the planet. Harvesting buried minerals, and draining poisonous oil into the caverns inside the eroding mountains. Humans who have called the mountains home were driven away or killed by the arsenal of computerized weapons the ship possesses. 

Smoke from the endlessly burning refinery casts the mountains into a toxic haze that the dwarfs wander around as they try to operate the machinery of their masters. 

Through the smoke and mists however a group of dwarfs see a figure approach them, looking nothing like themselves or their masters. Feeding a waste disposal tube into a cavity in the mountain, they are surprised to see a creature they have never seen before walk right up to them in the middle of their job. 

Wearing red armor and a leathery toga, the skull-faced man addressed them in a sad but stern voice. “Why do you poison my people?”

“We obey our masters.” One dwarf told the stranger. “We have no choice in our tasks, it is this or death.” turning away from the stranger they continued their work, fearing the consequences of any delay. 

“I shall spare your people then, when the time comes flee from here, and you shall be spared.” Falcure then moved to the open doors of the spherical ship. As he stepped foot on the first part of the metallic ramp, a laser beam shot out, and hit him in the chest. 

Recoiling slightly from the blow, he took a moment to comprehend what happened, and continued as he was bombarded by multiple laser beams. Burning away at his toga, till his bare, armored body entered the craft, which then more of the internal laser turrets fired upon him, trying to destroy the intruder. 

All this time the Psytrospectors watched as the metal God they were building was partially finished. The upper torso, one arm, and head were fully built, and would take far more materials to build. 

The Grand Psytrospector and the Elite Council watched all the while, patiently observing the progress of their latest project. 

“You all understand what this means, don’t you?” the Grand Psytrospector’s words were met with dismissive sighs. “We can challenge the very Gods, a deity under our control, able to craft worlds that cater to our imaginations, and delete the Gods like KhȀɄash who inhibit our ambitions. That foolish thing will be the first we erase, for we are the future, the arbiters of reality, of all realities, we can make what others cannot, we can dream what others cannot even fathom, ours is the will of the new God, and the new God is us, we our Gods, I am—” 

A sharp hissing sound interrupted his tirade, and he turned to look at a section of wall melting away to fire produced by the hand of an elf, who looked quite odd to the Psytrospector. The Grand Psytrospector was about to inquire about the trespasser's identity till he saw the Ring Of Devour he wore. 

“So our former oppressor has sent a new lackey to distract us from our latest project. Can’t you see we are far more powerful than you, what you do is mere parlor tricks compared to us.” 

Paying no heed to the words of the pompous wizard, Falcure scowled at the atrocities he saw the alien humans were perpetuating on his world. 

“You’re poisoning my people and their lands. Leave here, I will not offer this same mercy again.” 

The words were like the whining of a brat to the Grand Psytrospector and his council. 

“Your people? They are not unlike the countless others who we have brought to ruin, they are but casualties in our—” 

Spraying molten fire at the  Grand Psytrospector, Falcure was shocked to see his flames were blocked by a barrier of energy that suddenly appeared around the boastful wizard. Applying more strength, Falcure conjured lightning and fire in a steady stream to overpower the protective barrier. 

“This is a tiresome exercise in futility. Begone, we have more important work to do.” raising his rand, the  Grand Psytrospector raised his wand and a magnetic force pulled Falcure off his feet, pinning him to the far wall. 

Unable to pry himself, Falcure felt his entire body become pressed against the wall and itself, as the force that glued it to the hard surface strengthened, threatening to crush him in its metallic skin. 

“See no the folly of ignoring your own greatness, pray do not limit yourself again, less i choose to allow you to be killed by your lesser.” KhȀɄash’s voice spoke from the Ring Falcure wore, it sounded like a hallowed edict spoken in a profane place. 

All the Psytrospector’s turned away from their work to hear the voice, and feel a terrible fear, knowing in the back of their minds their doom has come, and KhȀɄash will reap the price for forsaking his powers. 

The Grand Psytrospector lifted his wand to utterly destroy the Champion Of KhȀɄash, then he saw the head of the Mechanical Dragon, Görk become animate. Turning his glassy, amber eyes upon the wizard, he watched as fire formed in the gaping, metallic maw, and utterly consumed him before he could command his mechanical instruments to his aid. 

Flesh melted from his bones, and his garments became ashes as the flame turned from orange to a deep red and finally an awesome blue that cast a sapphire shade throughout the facility. 

Falcure during this was feeling the Ring’s power once restrained start seething force from the place he sealed it, becoming too large to leave without opening a large crater within his psyche. Screaming from the pain of having his soul and mind punctured through to accommodate the all consuming power, Falcure erupted in an eruption of pure, destructive energy, a pale white light that cast a muting aura throughout the mountainside, making everything white and silent. 

***

The Spherical Craft of the Psytrospectors, including the Psytrospectors themselves, and their partially finished God were utterly destroyed. In the pillar of destructive energy, the dwarfs sensing the incoming danger fled, many were killed in the devastation, but thousands survived, and fled into the farthest reaches of the north to flourish their race in their new home. 

The mountain the Spherical Ship landed on was hollowed out, and the pillar of energy dug deep underground and uncovered a molten ichor from the planet that burst upward. Turning the mountain into a raging volcano of molten lead, that sent rivers of black, toxic death into the west and east. 

All signs of the Psytrospector’s were erased from existence, nothing of their works survived except what few fragments of knowledge the dwarfs had learned. 

Besides the former slave race, a mechanical dragon also survived, carrying an unconscious form in its clutch, flying them both southwards, as black smoke rose from the newly created volcano. 

***

Falcure awoke to cold, and a nearly suffocating stench that filled the air, rising up from a bed of snow, the elf wizard felt as if he was a shattered mirror being pieced back together. 

“You awake, how are you this new day?” seeing the dragon and hearing it speak dumbfounded Falcure. 

“I don’t know. I can barely remember what happened… are they gone?” Falcure feared the Psytrospector was still around tormenting his people. 

“No, the Psytrospector were consumed by Devour, just as KhȀɄash, the unsealing of your power gave me life. I am Görk, and am now bound to you, as shall serve you in all things concerning the will of KhȀɄash.” 

Falcure looked into the distance and saw the sky far away become clouded with ugly black smoke from a towering volcano, that produced harsh smelling fumes into the sky, and destructive poison down his slope. Watching as the rivers of black lead streamed into the distance. 

“Did I do that?” Falcure could only imagine the long lasting suffering such fantastical ruin could cause not only the land but people who live in the wake of those newly formed rivers. 

“Yes, it is the result of your power unleashed. It came out of you in such strength it couldn’t be controlled, and it nearly consumed you.” The dragon watched as the elf rose and walked off towards the black river westward, imagining what would happen to his people if it went south. Those non-elf races who will have that river flood past their land, will be like poisonous mother’s milk. 

Slowly destroying lands and fresh water wells that only partially are connected to the mainstream. Death will kill half the world, and it is evil he himself wrought upon it, with his self indulgent thinking. 

“I would’ve been better if it did.” Falcure wanted to pry the ring from his finger, but it found his body and soul, and wouldn’t leave no matter effort. Falcure nearly broke his finger trying to separate himself from the ring till he gave up out of frustration and self-loathing. “I know now your words Master Elf, I fear this hideous strength that engulfs my body, and I should’ve heeded the commands the power has made upon me. What evil I created is far greater than the ones I first sought to destroy.” 

“Don’t be foolish!” chided the Dragon, who bore his metallic teeth in an angry scowl. “The Psytrospectors would have destroyed this planet and many others, and your people would be extinct if not by them, than by the primitive sub-races that inhabit this world. Accept that Devour offers power at a cost, sacrifice, either of yourself or of others, bear that in mind as you seek to pacify your conscience.” 

Words from Görk stung his ego, and humbled his ambitions to martyr himself on a crucifix of self-indulging guilt. 

“Can you then fly me away from here Görk? I grew tired of seeing the consequences of my choices.” the elf wizard timidly requested. 

“At your request, for as I said you and I are now bound.” Climbing on the cold metal back of the dragon, Falcure and Görk flew off into the sky. 

Vanishing in the clear southern sky, as the distant rumbling of an active volcano grew distant till it could no longer be heard.