Time passes strange for the abomination in the dark star system, slow and incomprehensible for mortal minds, every moment an eon. It watches hungrily upon the streams of consciousness that flow into its gaping cosmic maw, ravenously consuming the psychic energies of the multiverse. It's tendrils of influence spreading invisibly through the stars. Thin lines of psychic energy that pull from every planet that is, was, and ever will be. Every moment of its life is consumption, and even though it is content with its existence, it feels the need to branch out personally. To take hold of mortals bodily and drag forth the foulest of emotions, to taste them with his own tongue. At this time, it seeks a planet that has remained innocent and untouched by his influence.
Strange to many would be the mention of his name alone, for humanity learned the word from him. Not the other way around. For this race, it danced lightly and near meaningless. The Divine was pleased to see a world so incorrupted by the mention of his name, Wrath, it gave him a fresh flavor. Like a connoisseur seeking a new spice, The Divine's enormous metaphysical maw grew into what could be roughly approximated to a sneer. For him, an untouched world was like finding Saffron for the first time.
This world was not wholly innocent, no mortal world was.
Not anymore at least.
Like many worlds this one was rife with bloodshed, though recent bloodshed was sparse. Peacetimes? Likely, but not definitely. The Divine recalls Cold Wars on an infinite number of worlds and it licked its chops ravenously. Passive aggression only requires a shove to become true hatred, a revolting combination of pent up anger and loathing. It was ripe for the picking, and unfortunate for the Guardians of that world, The Divine was ready to harvest.
Extending its influence above itself once more. So recent? Why have I been so restless? Do I hunger more? Maybe. Or is it that there are so many more worlds to feast on? Perhaps. Infinite possibilities drive my ravenous nature, I must feed and I seek nourishment directly.
Yes, directly. Give me food, I need food. Hunger, a meaningful concept to one so driven by it.
Through the infinite microscopic portals that he drew his power through, The Divine forced his will through an opening so infinitesimally small that even under an electron microscope it wouldn't be visible. His will threw the veil aside bodily, like a curtain being split apart by a murderer's knife. His planetary visage grew upon the morning sky of Corban's homeworld, The Divine's rift tore the sky apart and tumultuous winds whipped at the cloud cover. The sky itself spread wide to reveal an abominable sight upon the unknowing people of Corban's world.
From the titanic planet's surface, a monstrous storm shot forth, like a black hurricane in space. Blotting out the morning rays with a disgusting reddish black haze of death. Descending from the cloud was an enormous body, greater than any beast. No whale or saurian compared to its colossal size, for it was miles long. Its lengthy body writhing through the air, a great serpent of destruction plummeting to the Earth below. Flames licked around its body, and to all those unfortunate witnesses below they saw death in its purest form. A goliath of terrible proportion and visage. Its horror unbearable as its bulk collided with the ground, its speed suddenly halting just before it reached the Earth.
A pressure wave erupted from below its body and the winds blew vehicle and building back, toppling lesser buildings and crushing people inside of their mode of transport. (Don't know if car or carriage, so vehicle will have to suffice.) Humans were blown aside like petals from dandelions in the breeze, their bodies crumpling on impact with structures harder than themselves. A few unfortunate souls struck corners and bent around them. Their spines snapping and bodies going limp. These souls so unlucky were paralyzed, terrified, agonized, but alive.
From the crown of the gigantic beast of burden strode a giant of a scale significantly smaller, only measuring two men high. Its thorny body descending gently upon the trodden and windswept earth, in total opposition to the great serpent. Its elegance and horror were equal in proportion as it moved into the nearest center of living. Not large to him, obviously, though to a human it would have been a rather cosmopolitan area. Always a fitting setting, to see the accomplishments that they've worked so hard for torn asunder in his wake. Leaving the rich in agony of their monetary loss, the moderate in depression for their property loss, and the families in grief for their loved ones lost.
The Baron had arrived on Corban's world, relatively ignorant of those who might be called Guardians. Though soldiers would soon come, The Baron was not concerned with the normal folk. He was here to stir the pot, to whip his soup into proper position before taking a bowl for dinner. Food metaphors, clever. Or are they simile? Semantics.
Through the screaming crowds he strode with an unholy confidence, the goliath beast behind him screeching impiously as it rose to its full height and rocketed back towards the sky. Off to cause mayhem elsewhere on this world, for The Baron would not need its assistance. It reached a tower, rather tall, approximately the tallest in this city. He rocketed upwards to the peak and spoke with an otherworldly echo, sound coming toward him rather than away. "Welcome me, small ones, for I have come to feast!" Its massive baritone rumbled every window and ear canal within ten miles. An impossibly loud noise that carried for an even more impossible distance, The Baron has arrived.
Strange to many would be the mention of his name alone, for humanity learned the word from him. Not the other way around. For this race, it danced lightly and near meaningless. The Divine was pleased to see a world so incorrupted by the mention of his name, Wrath, it gave him a fresh flavor. Like a connoisseur seeking a new spice, The Divine's enormous metaphysical maw grew into what could be roughly approximated to a sneer. For him, an untouched world was like finding Saffron for the first time.
This world was not wholly innocent, no mortal world was.
Not anymore at least.
Like many worlds this one was rife with bloodshed, though recent bloodshed was sparse. Peacetimes? Likely, but not definitely. The Divine recalls Cold Wars on an infinite number of worlds and it licked its chops ravenously. Passive aggression only requires a shove to become true hatred, a revolting combination of pent up anger and loathing. It was ripe for the picking, and unfortunate for the Guardians of that world, The Divine was ready to harvest.
Extending its influence above itself once more. So recent? Why have I been so restless? Do I hunger more? Maybe. Or is it that there are so many more worlds to feast on? Perhaps. Infinite possibilities drive my ravenous nature, I must feed and I seek nourishment directly.
Yes, directly. Give me food, I need food. Hunger, a meaningful concept to one so driven by it.
Through the infinite microscopic portals that he drew his power through, The Divine forced his will through an opening so infinitesimally small that even under an electron microscope it wouldn't be visible. His will threw the veil aside bodily, like a curtain being split apart by a murderer's knife. His planetary visage grew upon the morning sky of Corban's homeworld, The Divine's rift tore the sky apart and tumultuous winds whipped at the cloud cover. The sky itself spread wide to reveal an abominable sight upon the unknowing people of Corban's world.
From the titanic planet's surface, a monstrous storm shot forth, like a black hurricane in space. Blotting out the morning rays with a disgusting reddish black haze of death. Descending from the cloud was an enormous body, greater than any beast. No whale or saurian compared to its colossal size, for it was miles long. Its lengthy body writhing through the air, a great serpent of destruction plummeting to the Earth below. Flames licked around its body, and to all those unfortunate witnesses below they saw death in its purest form. A goliath of terrible proportion and visage. Its horror unbearable as its bulk collided with the ground, its speed suddenly halting just before it reached the Earth.
A pressure wave erupted from below its body and the winds blew vehicle and building back, toppling lesser buildings and crushing people inside of their mode of transport. (Don't know if car or carriage, so vehicle will have to suffice.) Humans were blown aside like petals from dandelions in the breeze, their bodies crumpling on impact with structures harder than themselves. A few unfortunate souls struck corners and bent around them. Their spines snapping and bodies going limp. These souls so unlucky were paralyzed, terrified, agonized, but alive.
From the crown of the gigantic beast of burden strode a giant of a scale significantly smaller, only measuring two men high. Its thorny body descending gently upon the trodden and windswept earth, in total opposition to the great serpent. Its elegance and horror were equal in proportion as it moved into the nearest center of living. Not large to him, obviously, though to a human it would have been a rather cosmopolitan area. Always a fitting setting, to see the accomplishments that they've worked so hard for torn asunder in his wake. Leaving the rich in agony of their monetary loss, the moderate in depression for their property loss, and the families in grief for their loved ones lost.
The Baron had arrived on Corban's world, relatively ignorant of those who might be called Guardians. Though soldiers would soon come, The Baron was not concerned with the normal folk. He was here to stir the pot, to whip his soup into proper position before taking a bowl for dinner. Food metaphors, clever. Or are they simile? Semantics.
Through the screaming crowds he strode with an unholy confidence, the goliath beast behind him screeching impiously as it rose to its full height and rocketed back towards the sky. Off to cause mayhem elsewhere on this world, for The Baron would not need its assistance. It reached a tower, rather tall, approximately the tallest in this city. He rocketed upwards to the peak and spoke with an otherworldly echo, sound coming toward him rather than away. "Welcome me, small ones, for I have come to feast!" Its massive baritone rumbled every window and ear canal within ten miles. An impossibly loud noise that carried for an even more impossible distance, The Baron has arrived.
