The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

Demetrius felt a tug on his instincts and followed them, setting down the correspondence in his hand. Despite the relative lack of Nether he carried within his body- no, perhaps because of it, he needed to heed the nudges of meaning. As always, he was rewarded for his willingness to listen. He waited at the edge of the farm when his chosen Nether King strode past its edge, the set of his lord’s spine announcing he rode to battle.

“I’d like to accompany you, if I may,” Demetrius spoke quietly, despite the informality of their usual interactions. He couldn’t help himself; his instincts responded to a shift in the Nether King. The air around him had grown heavy.

It was not right to say this being… polluted the environment, but the sort of energy he produced did tend to stain.

Nether King Hungry Eye nodded shortly and Demetrius fell in behind him. The Nether King used his strange images to wrap a bubble of gravity around the two that accelerated their movements beyond what should be possible. Single steps crossed vast distances, bringing them within sight of the sprawling markets outside of Malloon in about three minutes.

Around that time of the arrival, Demetrius finally sniffed out why the impression of the Nether King had begun to shift. His eyes widened as he stared at his liege’s back. “You have begun accepting additional Phaea.”

Now that Demetrius knew what to look for, he could feel the signs. The stability in the weave around the Nether King. A certain gravity in movements that hadn’t been there previously, as Hungry Eye grew used to the drains of rule. Yet once Demetrius started paying attention to the right things, he grew only more confused.

Unable to keep his silence, Demetrius cleared his throat. “...you are gaining additional Phaea, even now. Which should be impossible, since I stand beside you and see no oaths being given. I would caution you to not take the process of Phaea lightly; if you believe you have some manner of generation false Phaea, it will not be without consequences. In addition, you should accept each personally. The connection is quite important to the process.”

Nether King Hungry Eye flashed the half-smile he used when he felt genuine, surprised amusement. “I am not just making up shades to create Phaea, Demetrius. And although I might not be there in person, my agent is the woman I trust most in the world. The connection will be there.”

“They must also be beings of sufficient Nether,” Demetrius couldn’t help but add, hating how much he felt like he was nagging. The accumulation of energy around Hungry Eye’s body seemed to be balanced, but logic dictated it could not be that simple.

Hungry Eye nodded in understanding, still walking forward and eating up the distance to Malloon. “We are being careful.”

Probably little could have given Demetrius more worry than the pronoun we from a Nether King, but his further worries were squashed by arriving before Malloon’s gates. Individuals flowed rather freely in and out of the buzzing barrier, but that flow of bodies slackened as two individuals in distinctive black robes appeared right in front of the city’s mouth. The guards blanched in surprise, hands tightening around their weapons. Speakers strangled off their sentences midway through, appalled at their sudden presence.

Demetrius felt a flash of pity for the guards if they were fool enough to try and stop Hungry Eye, but in this case fear saved them from ruin. They froze without being able to respond to his presence, simply static while their boogeyman glanced around.

To his credit, Nether King Hungry Eye walked through their midst without smugness. Demetrius followed, passing through the barriers. Near the city, he caught other scents of meaning. Being here was dangerous for them, right now, although the why was not exactly clear. On the other side of the barrier, an orcish guard in a much more ornate armored robe stood with a straight back and a glaive clenched tight against his side.

“Nether King.” The orc growled, his voice barely trembling. However there were drops of sweat on his brow and the door to the gatehouse sat ajar, as though this orc had to rush out in a hurry to intercept them. “Due to your business relations, Lord Westrisser had graciously allowed you continued access to Malloon, despite your terroristic actions. However, I must accompany you at all times. Failure to concede this point will not be accepted. If at any point I fail to submit timely reports- urghk!”

Hungry Eye didn’t even bat an eye, stepping past the orc and generating another gravitational ball. Demetrius sighed inwardly at the Nether King’s brusque actions but followed behind. With several quick steps, they ascended into the sky and then shot across the city to arrive in a tasteful villa near to Westrisser’s seat of power. This would burn a bridge with Westrisser, perhaps without any benefit-

Yet despite Demetirus’s worries, the orc, coughing and spluttering from being yanked along by the gravitational working, had been taken with him. The armored figure collapsed on the ground, even sweatier than he had been earlier.

When Hungry Eye swept forward toward the doors of the villa, Demetrius smiled rather nicely at the orc. “If you need to accompany us, you’ll need to keep up.”

Without knocking, the Nether King pushed open the heavy doors of the villa. They swung inward to reveal a gorgeous room of mahogany floors and jade green silk curtains that fluttered before open windows. His steps heavy, the Nether King walked unerringly forward. Even Demetrius couldn’t help but admire the way he could scent the flow of Nether.

“Nether King, what is the meaning of this?” The orc growled, his thick legs pumping vigorously to keep up. While they had not assigned a weakling to follow around the Nether King, even Demetrius felt confident in overcoming him in a physical contest. It was a testament to the difference that he already seemed to tire, only after ten seconds of interacting with the Nether King. “I will not condone breaking and entering.”

“We were invited,” Demetrius said diplomatically. But he kept his eye on Hungry Eye, to make sure it was true. From the way he didn’t quirk up an amused smile, it was probably true.

The Nether King led them up a flight of stairs and then down a hallway lined with portraits of Peregrine Serpents. Occasionally, Demetrius caught a glimpse of some servant Winged Serpents, who bowed their heads and allowed the trio to pass without comment. The group moved into the west wing and the Nether King unerring moved to a particular door, although it looked like a half dozen they had already passed.

He follows twists in significance without hesitation, Demetrius hummed to himself, impressed. For one so young, this Nether King truly had a natural affinity for the energy. His potential was a towering edifice, even half completed.

As he often had in recent weeks, Demetrius thanked the weave for guiding him into Hungry Eye’s path.

As soon as Nether King Hungry Eye opened the door, a horrid essence of fear and consumption wafted out of the open door. Demetrius and the Nether King both stiffened, even while the orc continued to grumble himself, heedless of the danger. The flows of the significance appeared to be strangling themselves into submission, adding a sense of rot to the over-charged air. The fetid breath of a starved beast wheezed out of the opening. The most horrifying part of the whole experience was the sense of turmoil within that crazed self-inflicted hunger.

The perversion of Nether was the result of restraint.

The woman Mae Myrna sat at a bare wooden table in the middle of the room, her face ashen. As the Nether King stood there before the wafting energies, she raised her head and grinned. “Ah, you came quickly. Truly, you have the gift of timely arrivals, Nether King. No wonder that girl is so obsessed with you. To be honest I’m not sure… how much longer I can restrain myself. This… is not a small flaw within me.”

“What the hell is this?” Demetrius hissed out the words before he could stop himself.

As though the dank and twisted energy had sensed his words, several flows twisted around and rushed in Demetrius’s direction. Even as he flinched and took a step back, Hungry Eye interposed himself and waved a hand. A humming wave of Nether smashed back the flows.

Across from them, Mae Myrna grimaced at the collision. Blood began to ooze from her lips.

“...Release the grip you have on your image,” Hungry Eye said. His sharp emerald eyes remained on the greedy flows of energy, an infectious energy seeking to spread its rot throughout the world.

Mae Myrna shook her head slowly. “If I let go now, I won’t be able to control it any longer. My will is spent. You all will be forced… to face directly whatever Westrisser has caused my image to become. I will likely transform-”

“You have such a taste for the dramatic,” The Nether King interrupted rather drily, so much so that Demetrius first felt a bit of shock that Hungry Eye didn’t display more sympathy for his friend’s plight. The Nether King flicked his fingers and knocked away a flow of the rotting image. “You are suffering, yes, but I believe you are actually being too critical of Westrisser. Your image is definitely strengthened, you're just now fighting against it.”

“You call this… filth my image?” The Patron of Truth scowled.

Hungry Eye shook his head. “You probably had a fear in the corner of your heart, no matter how truly you believed it was necessary, that Westrisser might betray you, or twist your image to his own ends. Now, as you refuse to face it directly, why would it not be mysterious and flawed? It needed to be honed.”

The room settled into silence for a split second. Mae Myrna blinked. She swayed in her seat, but the puzzled expression remained. “Yet… what about the strange sentience suddenly within my image, pulling it in so many directions.”

Hungry Eye grunted in a dismissive manner. To Demetrius’s shock, the Nether King glanced at him; he wanted support for his position from his Nether Herald. And while Demetrius had no idea about what he saw of the rotting image, he could still read the weave and the way the image responded to it.

“I do not know the manner used, but aspects of Nether were added to your image,” Demetrius said. “What you witness is not sentience. Just as gravity affects the physical, significance pulls Nether. What you see are the flows of connection and history.”

“If you don’t release your image soon, its going to tear itself in half,” The Nether King added. “If you think the rot stinks now, just wait until there is an open wound at the core of your power.”

When the Patron of Truth didn’t seem swayed, the Nether King sighed. “Look, I think I see what Westrisser was trying to do. Let me put is this way: which is harder to swim across, a lake or a whirlpool?”

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