[right]” ‘That’s the risk in working to be a dangerous person,’ she said.
 ‘There’s always the chance you’ll run into someone who’s better at it than you.’ “
[color=gray] - Scott Hawkins, [i]The Library at Mount Char[/i][/color][/right]

The guards had grown lax, were weary and bored, entertaining themselves away from their duties. A carefully-commanded patrol schedule had slipped and a once-mighty perimeter became pockmarked with holes, blindspots, and lone guards nobody would ever miss. Even the Outer Gods, in all their majesty and power, could not design the perfect defense.

And that was all the opening The Eidolon needed. The goblins in the tree had been more difficult to avoid; they still held the fear of death, they still had passion. In this murky cave, dark and blood-bound, every few feet a stalactite emerging from silt to threaten a quick death on a sharp stake, there was only squalor and misery to be found. The creatures hated these depths; the guards loathed it deeply, and sought distraction from their lot.

The first opening came before The Eidolon had even picked a form, once they had sent a puppet to that cave. Without hesitation, a gift offered became a gift taken and The Eidolon had passed the bulk of the guards. They would have detected divine essence; the god emitted none, for the time being, and as such no further checks troubled it.

Nevertheless, it Perceived the cave around, and amongst the creatures with purpose it found marks. Here, monsters from beyond creation had speared themselves on the geology, and now swam aimlessly in circles. They were senseless, no hearing, no eyesight, nothing but pain as their own blood added to the ocean and the sting of foreign hemoglobin rushed through their wounds and poisoned them. They died quickly, but were replenished just as quickly.

One would not be missed, and would not know what was happening until it was too late. These creatures still had necks to break, and in the murk nothing could see it happen. Stash the body in a crevice, and it would sooner rot than be found; particularly once its skin had been stolen. The Eidolon, in a form that was outwardly blind and insensate, swam in lazy circles closer and closer to the portal, while inside it bristled with eyes and ears.

There was so much information to take in. Once they reached the portal, perhaps the solutions to their problems could be gleaned from what lay available to learn. [i]Let other gods fight, while I benefit from observation,[/i] The Eidolon thought, as they silently pushed forwards. The creature’s skin reeked of an outer god; all the better to cover The Eidolon’s miniscule emissions. To the god, it had been a disturbingly easy infiltration.

The portal itself was strange - It was a void-coloured pool that stretched as far as the Eidolon’s senses could tell, following every twist and turn and descent and ascent in the cave system, but never completely flooding any passage. From the bubbling liquid - which felt particularly similar to the essence given off by that of the Cantar Hiveminds all around Galbar - beasts of all shapes, sizes, and functions would spawn. Partly as if they were being birthed by the pool itself, these creatures were clumsy and wobbly and simply swam up in search of the surface.

It was a sight to behold. Just the emissions of foreign energy alone were enough to give the Eidolon years worth of thinking, and the particular physiologies of the beasts were so different to that which existed in Galbar that it flipped its assumptions of life on its head. 

Caught up in observation as it was, the Eidolon only noticed a presence unlike any other encompassing it, nearly crushing it under its ethereal weight. There was no movement to be done, no word to be spoken aloud.

In that instant in which the presence enveloped the Eidolon, time slowed to a standstill and all colour, shape, smell, and form vanished in a cloud of white mist.

The Eidolon felt nothing but the Presence. It moved, but went nowhere, it looked around but saw nothing but mist, and under the Eidolon’s feet there was nothing, except for a far-off little dot of light, twinkling even as it was enveloped by waves upon waves of darkness.

“Little God. Fake God.” Words boomed within the Eidolon’s mind. The mist roiled and coiled. The Presence was there. “You are not here. Where are you?”

The Eidolon was not contained in such a little body, and it correlated with its main body; everything near the portal had been seized. It smoothly filtered out the blatant non-data of the Outer Gods, leaving the creature it inhabited once more insensate. Then, it released control to the remnants of the thing it had killed, and let it hopelessly swim in the mists. [i]Come and find me,[/i] The Eidolon seemed to dare, as its footprint only grew quieter and it settled in to outwait the intruding influence.

“I will not come. I am already here. You are not here. Little God.” The mists froze. In the distance, something tore and the mists were painted blue. “You are not here.” The mists froze again, and once more another thing tore and the mists were painted yellow. “You are not here.” Next time, the mists did not freeze, but something still tore and the mists were painted orange, only this time the paint explosion sprayed the Eidolon’s host. “You are…”

“... Not here.” 

The Presence settled on the Eidolon. The mists dissipated a little. The Presence thinned. It was leaving, a trail of mist heading for the twinkling light in the distance.. “Little God. Come. You will return to the Pen. You must grow more. You must fulfill my demand.”

The puppet seized control of the creature it inhabited once more. The Eidolon would not be dictated to; not when it had penetrated the home of its could-be enemy at no risk to itself. Tactical calculations ran through its mind, coursing from the bulk of its body to the mere puppet it controlled. It would not reveal itself yet, but there was still a way it could communicate. The puppet was disposable, and that too meant all of its parts were disposable. The puppet could still Step within the mists, leaving no trace of its origin.

That it was a pocket of sacrificial puppet Stepped into the mists. It screamed, “LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!” It flailed, it gathered attention as the main body let the creature return to an insensate state. Then, once it felt the Outer Gods’ presence on the sacrifice, the little piece torn off the puppet said, suddenly cold, “I will not accept a dictate. Find me, or make your offer.”

The Presence gently held the abandoned puppet within its mist. Unseen hands caressed its prickly furred skin, and finally it was left to drift. “You are not here. Little God, you are not here yet you are here. You can sneak and you can hide. I have seen what is coming, Little God. I have seen where you live, Little God. I have seen them all.”

There was a brief stillness, before the Mists continued their path.

“Two to harvest - The Little Gods will arrive at our Gate soon, Little God. You must aid the Slaughterer. In return…”

It seemed to think.

“... You will grow. The Little God will be given a pen within the Pen.”

The sacrificial piece kicked out again, flailing in the mist as it drifted. Then, the same cold voice, piped from the unfeeling intelligence that was the whole of The Eidolon, “Name the pen,” it demanded, “tell me what I stand to gain.” The creature whose skin had been torn away as a disguise, meanwhile, was subtly directed towards escape. It had not been noticed yet; the sacrifice had done its job. To lose the main portion of its puppet would be no great loss, but yet it would still be felt.

“Your Domain, Little God, it will grow. There are four realms within the Pen, and you will be given one of them. You will do as you see fit within that realm until we come for you. That is what you stand to gain.” They were close to the twinkling light now, and the closer they got the clearer the view became. Hazy void turned into the familiar void between superclusters, and the twinkling light in the distance was not just one light, but trillions. 

As they approached, the view gave way to a great barrier which obscured their sight and blocked passage, until the mists guided them to a spot in the barrier that had been torn open. The spot was crowded by countless mists and shades and things, all scratching at each other for a chance to jump through the opening into the universe on the other side of the barrier.

The other shades cowered and shied away as the Presence approached and cleared enough room for a little god to crawl through.

“You must fulfill our demand. Only then will you grow, Little God.”

The puppet shot from the creature it had donned, leaving the skin behind to deflate and die. It grabbed the sacrificial piece of itself as it went, and it fled through the hole. The message was clear; if it had not agreed to the deal, it would not have rendered itself vulnerable as it did. It revealed itself only to indicate mutual agreement; one that harm upon the puppet would rescind. No words needed to be spoken.

Behind it, it had left an informational opening in the mist. Here was how it would fulfill its end of the deal; an access point into the story of knots. To unravel the story would see access seized, but it could be extended and used, for a time. Here was its end of the bargain.

[hider=Summary]
The Eidolon investigates the portal at the bottom of the Blood Ocean and catches the attention of a watchful Outer God. The Outer God, upon being impressed by the Eidolon’s sneakiness, offers it a quest in which it is supposed to aid a ‘Slaughterer’ that’d going to be harvesting two Little Gods in the coming days, so the Eidolon accepts and merely gives it access to the Story of Knots, which will allow the Outer God to buff the ‘Slaughterer’ directly as long as it has access.
[/hider]