SepticGentleman — Roleplayer Guild

Nahargu'ul

Out in the open of the god-occupied realm, was a vast clearing of water, sinking down into a opaque blackness. It was known officially as Nahargu’ul’s Reef, though some other deities had plenty of their own joking names for it. In the past, Nahargu’ul had chastised them for it, but now… he’s just grown indifferent to the practice. There he lounges most of his time, down in the dark, surrounded by a collection of his favored merfolk, whom he elevated to his own realm for their accomplishments on the mortal coil. The Sea-Fiend was rested on a curved stretch of bedrock, six red eyes close to shut. Around him lounged too his eyeless, sharp-toothed subjects. They, and the water around them, were all calm, collected, and silent.

Until one merman dropped into the water from above, swimming down towards Nahargu’u, with a rolled letter in hand, given to him by an angel from above. Of course, the letter itself did not succumb to the water’s effect - it was not its writer’s will to let that happen. Nahargu’ul perked his eyes upward as the merman neared him. No words were exchanged - he simply held out his hand, taking the letter in his slate blue fingers. He unrolled it, gave it a good once over, and sighed. The merfolk watched as he let the letter drift away, and swam up to the surface of the water.

In the land of the gods, anything that wasn’t one specific deity’s territory was neutral ground, which allowed Nahargu’ul to traverse it. As he breached the waterline, he pulled himself onto the ground, whereupon two of the tentacles that comprised his lower half shifted into a pair of human-esque legs, encrusted with the same eroded chitin on most of his body. The rest of his tentacles dragged behind him, somewhat like a longcoat.

He made his way forward, towards the Hall of Gods.

Yigzavath

Yigzavath’s Lair was all the same dull as Nahargu’ul’s Reef, though not quite as silent. All throughout its web-covered caverns, one could hear the skittering of one or many horrible creatures in the distance, clicking sounds, and other generally unnerving audios. It was here that, every equivalent to a day, Yigzavath toiled - jotting down ideas, drawing unsightly designs on weathered parchments, and so on. As he was deprived of the world in which he once set his creations to roam, all he could do now was prepare for the day he returned.

And that day had finally come.

An angel walked through the Lair, unimpeded but still observed by the many creatures inhabiting it. They came upon the central chamber, where before an open chasm, Yigzavath lurched over a table carved out of a stone slab. And in the open before him, petrified and preserved species were hung up by massive webs, spun by some sizable arachnid. As the angel approached, Yigzavath ceased his writing, and turned towards them.

"What. Is it." He said, in a sinister, somewhat irritated tone.

“A summons for you, Filthmonger.” The angel replied, lightly bowing their head and holding the letter outward. Yigzavath grabbed it, unrolled it, and read it. His calm composure slowly turned into an unsettling rage, as he clicked and groaned. He suddenly tossed the letter aside, brushing past the angel, making his way towards the exit from his Lair. The angel followed a distance behind, darting their eyes occasionally, on the lookout for any creatures.

They both arrived in short time, almost simultaneously, with Nahargu’ul leading. “You, and all this formality…” The Sea-Fiend said in an eery, guttural voice, taking his seat in the azure throne alongside Kilgarrah’s crimson one. “I expect it all to be dashed away, the moment we are returned to the mortal realm. But it would be quite the surprise if you proved me wrong, unlikely though it seems.”

Before the dragon god could give his answer, Yigzavath went by on his many insectoid legs, directly towards his own assigned seat. Nahargu’ul called out, “And the Filthmonger joins us for our parting, as well!”

“QUIET.” Yigzavath angrily retorted, shooting a glance at Nahargu’ul before approaching his seat, shoving it aside, and simply placing his hands on the table, head lowered, waiting for all of this to be over and done with.

“Ever such a shortcoming that he can’t even sit in a chair.” Nahargu’ul remarked, lowly.
SepticGentleman Member

𝙼𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎

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