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The Writings of Tyranous, Part 3
7 years ago
Nothing prepared me for mortals. They were so...fleeting, frightful, weak...and so much more alive than my own kind. We watched as the beings of this realm struggled and fought, with sword and horse and catapult and all manner of interesting creations to augment their puny forms to be capable of a higher form of war. It was fascinating, and yet they were only as different as their similarities, their wars always so...petty. Invoking the name of a deity that likely did not exist, or was not in fact a deity but posed as one to them at one point in their history. Yes, I felt the hand of immortals in this universe, they'd been here before, manipulated these mortals...but there were none here now that I could sense.
Felixious and I would rarely interact, and while she could often evade and make herself mysterious enough to have conversations without violence, invoking their curiosity, I had no such luck. No, my interactions were generally fear and terror, and attempts to slay me in the name of one God or another. I refused to take on a lesser form, I was determined to be myself, and my mate laughed as she assumed many forms, and scolded me for my stubborn nature. It would take me centuries to finally assume a 'lesser' form as I called it at the time, bipedal rather than my natural, monstrously feral form. I went out to seek out mortals once again, and found they had progressed. They still had primitive arms, but they had developed interesting culture, arts, and a love for a manner of organized combat.
Gone were most of the castles I was accustomed to, replaced with lavish dwellings and coliseums where warriors fought for the entertainment of the masses. It was intriguing, and I attended many matches, and fought in a few myself in disguise. I found it exhilarating and I went too far eventually. I grew arrogant in my prowess in the gladiatorial arenas, and one day I let my guard down and was struck across the muzzle. As my molten blood dripped out, I lost myself and erupted into flame, dropping my guises and slaughtering my opponent...and then incinerating the entire coliseum to leave no witnesses. I left mortals then, seeking solitude...though it was not to be, as what I had done had drawn the attention of other immortals.
The demons I could tolerate, threaten, and kill without worry, no it was the Angels that were a problem. They could counter most of my darker powers, and they were relentless in their pursuit of purging 'evil' and seeking 'justice' as they saw it. They would not relent, not listen, not understand...they just kept coming for me. Only after I'd reluctantly withheld from slaughtering scores of them, leaving them only wounded, did one of their great prophets come down to seek audience with me. At last one of them listened to me, and understood me. Aurlien, the creator of the Cat Guardians, was wary of my tale, but seeing Felixious at my side, seeing her devotion to me, our mating...she relented. She withdrew the Angelic host and remained to watch me for a time, speak to me and understand me.
She had seen the cycle of Legion before, and never before had an incarnation of Legion left the Eternal Conflict...she was fascinated with me, and I suppose I was worth the notice, but I did not wish it. The Heavens continuously tried to recruit me to their cause, to stop the burning Hells forever, but I wanted nothing of either side...for a time...
Felixious and I would rarely interact, and while she could often evade and make herself mysterious enough to have conversations without violence, invoking their curiosity, I had no such luck. No, my interactions were generally fear and terror, and attempts to slay me in the name of one God or another. I refused to take on a lesser form, I was determined to be myself, and my mate laughed as she assumed many forms, and scolded me for my stubborn nature. It would take me centuries to finally assume a 'lesser' form as I called it at the time, bipedal rather than my natural, monstrously feral form. I went out to seek out mortals once again, and found they had progressed. They still had primitive arms, but they had developed interesting culture, arts, and a love for a manner of organized combat.
Gone were most of the castles I was accustomed to, replaced with lavish dwellings and coliseums where warriors fought for the entertainment of the masses. It was intriguing, and I attended many matches, and fought in a few myself in disguise. I found it exhilarating and I went too far eventually. I grew arrogant in my prowess in the gladiatorial arenas, and one day I let my guard down and was struck across the muzzle. As my molten blood dripped out, I lost myself and erupted into flame, dropping my guises and slaughtering my opponent...and then incinerating the entire coliseum to leave no witnesses. I left mortals then, seeking solitude...though it was not to be, as what I had done had drawn the attention of other immortals.
The demons I could tolerate, threaten, and kill without worry, no it was the Angels that were a problem. They could counter most of my darker powers, and they were relentless in their pursuit of purging 'evil' and seeking 'justice' as they saw it. They would not relent, not listen, not understand...they just kept coming for me. Only after I'd reluctantly withheld from slaughtering scores of them, leaving them only wounded, did one of their great prophets come down to seek audience with me. At last one of them listened to me, and understood me. Aurlien, the creator of the Cat Guardians, was wary of my tale, but seeing Felixious at my side, seeing her devotion to me, our mating...she relented. She withdrew the Angelic host and remained to watch me for a time, speak to me and understand me.
She had seen the cycle of Legion before, and never before had an incarnation of Legion left the Eternal Conflict...she was fascinated with me, and I suppose I was worth the notice, but I did not wish it. The Heavens continuously tried to recruit me to their cause, to stop the burning Hells forever, but I wanted nothing of either side...for a time...
