[center][h2][u]A Tyrant Below[/u][/h2][/center]

[hr]

Deep within the confines of his cavern, Kaarnesxaturl rumbled in a most pleasing way. The First Tyrant of the Vrool was, as difficult as it was for a vrool to be, inordinately pleased. 

All about his grotto were stacked a number of offerings, ranging from meaty tribute to particularly shiny stones. Over the past few years since he had first been blessed with the genius scheme of rulership, he has utterly basked in the glow of that most rewarding of enterprises. In that time he had proven to be a vrool without equal, at least within the confines of the reef he called home. For nearly a decade now he had reigned supreme, challenged occasionally but never beaten and always coming out far better than before. Lurzoolsxagrun had only been the beginning. Now, with his cavern swelling with prizes from numerous fallen rivals and packed to bursting with all delights the vrool Tyrant could feast on, Kaarn could sit back and enjoy the fruits of his numerous labors.

The decade, of course, had not been a considerably easy one; becoming tyrant over one vrool had been simple enough, but Kaarn had known from that instant that simply one vrool bent to his will would never be enough. It was true, Lurz had kept to his side of the bargain quite well and remained one of Kaarn’s most ardent supporters. Kaarn admitted to himself regularly that he could never trust Lurz, for surely the mongrel was crafty and opportunistic, but Kaarn remained thoroughly on top of that particular relationship. Though Lurz had grown considerably in size, he was still half Kaarn’s size and barely a threat to the monstrosity that was his overlord.

Kaarn had busied himself once his undersea realm had been secured by the ever watchful gaze of Lurzoolsxagrun, the retainer protecting Kaarnesxaturl’s territory as doggedly as if it had been his own. In the early years, as Lurz had yet to bloat from the increased availability of high quality nutrition, he had served as more of an extended set of sensory organs for Kaarn’s personal defense of the territory. But as Lurz grew, so too did his capacity to respond to the hostilities of smaller vrool, freeing Kaarn up for other duties. Within the first year Kaarn had realized rapidly that this process could be replicated and soon his conquests began. Lurzoolsxagrun had served well in these times too, his smaller form adequate for keeping the large, neighboring vrool from paying him much heed during his skulking into their territory. With those rivals marked and appropriately targeted, Kaarn could set about dismantling their realms one by one.

The first half of the decade was easy; Kaarn would have Lurz reconnoiter adjacent territories, discover the extent of which the present vrool claimed as their own, and subsequently follow up with a violent, aggressive push. These initial aggressions were simple; expanding Kaarn’s borders into areas in which more rich resources were abundant. Kaarn and Lurz had feasted well from these battles, the neighboring vrool slinking backwards rather than commit to any serious conflict with the massive hulk that was the growing Kaarn. Even Lurz had found success in combat, defeating several lesser vrool testing the boundaries of Kaarn’s realm and seeking to carve for themselves a niche in what was so obviously HIS world. Kaarn prayed occasionally in thanks to his creator, the mind-in-his-that-was Klaarungraxus; no doubt the vast entity hidden deep in his thoughts had intended for Kaarn specifically to succeed.

As more area was ripped away from competing vrool, Kaarn saw opportunity; lesser vrool, the weakling spawns of his poor adversaries and still growing into their own, made perfect targets for the same abuses Lurz was put through. Rather than drive them utterly from his reef, however, Kaarn set himself and Lurz to constantly harrowing the creatures but allowing them to escape, ever seeking to grab something, anything for themselves in their natural vrool greed. One by one these spawnlings became ideal candidates for fealty, as desperate as Lurz had been. Though most were slain or driven off completely, Kaarn soon found success in offering them the same deal Lurz had received. They would serve as watchmen for his herds of Titan Crabs or vast schools of fish, and would keep secure the edges of his realm when he or Lurz could not. 

Then came the real battles. Other vrool around Ku had banded together in similar manners, having heard from those vrool that fled before Kaarn of his successes. Skirmishes raged in the deep, dark places of the world between the First Tyrant Kaarnesxaturl and his rivals, their small bands of retainers constantly fighting proxy-battles between the powerful tyrants. At the peak of the decade, Kaarn directly ruled over nearly three dozen other vrool. The eastern reef around Ku was nearly completely under his control. Even his cavern had been enlarged, lesser vrool made to grind and scratch away to expand and smooth it down to Kaarn’s liking. Now, upon his bed of selectively picked grains of sand, Kaarn basked in the glory of his conquests.
 
It was then that, against all sense and logic, a most peculiar vrool wriggled its way into the First Tyrants very cavern.  The stillborn looking thing was entirely white, less than half the size of even Lurzoolsxagrun, and upon closer inspection lacked such basics as [i]eyes[/i] or, worst of all, a beak.  It was, if given any thought, not something that should exist.

Let alone enter the cavern of the First Tyrant!

If Kaarnesxaturl had not been first Tyrant of the Vrool, he may have recoiled back in disgust. The thing that now haunted his chambers was a disgusting parody of a vrool, blind and without beak. But he was. Though his oversized heart began to pound inside his torso and over half of the sub-minds returned sensory pings of warning, Kaarn stood his ground and rose to fill up the space of his cavern; it would not do to hide, even from this abomination. Tentacles raised in threat display and with powerful, horrifyingly well-muscled beak gnashing, Kaarn rose to meet the interloper as he had many others.

“I am Kaarnesxaturl,” echoed the Tyrant off the walls, water rippling forward from him as he intoned his challenge in the Holy Vonu, “And you, vile failed-spawn, enter my domain unbidden. What manner of creature are you? Explain, for you are an oddity that will hold my curiosity for only so long!”

There was no movement in the water, no noise, no ripples, nothing.  The peculiar vrool turned to face Kaarnesxaturl, and a voice echoed not on the walls of the First Tyrants cavern, but in every one of his minds, “I know well who you are, child.  I have watched you, and your growing domain, for some time.  Perhaps to sate my own curiosity.  Then again, perhaps it was because I wasn’t certain you were capable.”

There was a pause, and when the voice spoke again it was almost proud, “But here you are, First Tyrant.  I am Tekret Et Heret, the god of Contracts, and though odd, I believe I have yet to be vile.”

The many-minds of Kaarnesxaturl recoiled inwards, away from the pressures of this great and oppressive intrusion by the entity called Tekret Et Heret. Its words were not in Deepspeak but rang clearly in Kaarn’s minds till only the overmind remained receptive, the others going silent while the God spoke. Alone with his personal thoughts, Kaarn considered the words of pale-vrool most carefully. God, most of all, was a term that needed reconciliation. Unlike that of his creator, the almighty progenitor of oceans, this so-called God was not known to him at birth. If Klaar had seen it necessary for the vrool race to know of this Tekret, he would have left them with knowledge of this other God. Nevertheless, its powers could not be denied. A shrewd hesitation came over Kaarn, a sensation he had not felt since prior to his duel with Xuxus. 

“I was capable at my spawning, Tekret Et Heret, for I was born strong and many of my clutchmates fed my hungers,” Kaarn felt his tentacle-minds returning from dormancy, beginning to speak up in the chatter of his active mind. The sensory organs played back the physical memory of Tekret’s arrival, of his words, and they each confirmed that Tekret was empty of the ocean’s tongue. God was still up for debate, but utterly unvrool was without a doubt. 

“My patience with words dims and breaks as white-water; why have you come, God of Contracts, to my realm? Your presence confounds me.”

“Your strength was never in doubt, child.  But consider this: the vrool are said to be much like their maker.  I learned such, and I hesitated.  Perhaps apart from all other creatures you may understand this, but gods do not bow.  It is not in their nature.  Certainly, it is not in mine.”

The white vrool inched closer, heedless of Kaarn’s imposing presence, “So when you prayed to me, for regardless of whose name is sworn on all oaths are prayers to [i]me[/i], I wondered if you could truly abide by your deal.  I wondered if your vassal, Lurzoolsxagrun, could abide by it.  I have waited for a long while.  Far longer than I have waited for others.”

The white vrool stilled and the voice in Kaarnesxaturl’s head grew intent, “I have entered your realm to give the vrool what many other peoples already gained, a true leader.  More than a First Tyrant.  [i]A Tyrant.[/i]  Singular, unchallenged.”

Another pause, “Yet it seems, you have not the patience or time for me, child.  Perhaps that is a gift for another?  For there are others, as we both know.”

Kaarn’s eyes narrowed in disdain for the God’s petty games; it knew well how to pull his tentacles and it infuriated the vrool tyrant to the core. Nevertheless, what Tekret offered could not be ignored lightly. Though he did not know or fear the extent of Tekret’s ability to command or bind the vrool to its alien will, the potential for interference against him was unquestionable. Klaarungraxus would not abide an enslavement of his spawn to some unknown entity, it was not a battle Kaarn personally thought he could win.

“There are no others my equal, Tekret Et Heret, but if you seek a slave to grovel you have not found one,” Kaarn rose to the occasion, refusing to cower before the frightful entity, “I bow to no one and the Vrool will not yield except to strength, and even then they do so only to serve themselves. My patience waxes with curiosity, for I know no power that could bind my race to one will. Explain.”

The voice turned to laughter, laughter in every pitch and voice that there could ever be.  The white vrool that was a god shook with mirth before speaking, “You answer your own question, First Tyrant.  The vrool yield to only to strength, and yet you know of nothing that could bind them to a greater will?  For a vrool to rule it must be strong, for a vrool to rule all its kin it must be stronger than all of them.  Stronger than [i]you.[/i].”

“I am a God,” the voice boomed, not only in Kaarn’s mind but in the minds of every creature for miles, “And my strength is without limit.  If I wished dominion over your people, by proxy or otherwise, I would not need you.  All that could stop me would be your creator.”

The white vrool began to swell, not in form, but in presence, “And yet I come to talk.  I come because of all your people, you were the first to gain the fealty of your kin.  The only one who does not need my power to rule.  That is why you must have it.  Why you must be the only Tyrant.”

“But you bluster and evade.  You suspect me, as you suspect your vassals.”  The voice reverberated darkly,  “Know this child, I am a god.  I am beyond suspicion.  You have brought order to chaos, and so I favor you, but I tire of mortal paranoia and disrespect.  If you doubt me, try to evict me from your realm.  Remove me from this spot.”

Tekret Et Heret, in the alabaster skin of a vrool, held out a single tentacle, “I implore you.”

Kaarn had listened very carefully, his tentacle-minds having grown in determined resistance to the invasion of Kaarn’s thoughts. Though he sorely wished to respond to the insults heaped upon him by the physically lesser form, he knew well at this point that behind the weak exterior was power at least comparable to his own creator. Instead, he accepted his position, at least for now. 

“I know I cannot, Tekret Et Heret,” Kaarnesxaturl hissed, staring with all six eyes fixated on the God of Contracts, “And it is a fool who fights when he knows he is already beaten. What, then, do you demand of me for this boon?”

There was, now, a serenity in the voice that spoke to Kaarn.  The hostility had vanished, and all that remained was purpose and certainty, “Only that you do what is natural, what I have asked.  There is to be an order in the world, child.  All creatures have a place, and yours is to rule over your kin.  Swear this on my name, and I will give you the strength to do it.”

Kaarn, in that instant, felt it was too good to be true. All Tekret Et Heret asked from him was to continue his conquests? That was a deal he could not possibly refuse. And, just as Tekret had said, if truly the God of Contracts sought to abuse this contract, Klaarungraxus could intervene on Kaarn’s behalf. This was a risk Kaarnesxaturl was willing to take.

“Then I shall, on the ocean and on your name; I will conquer all vrool before me and make all the ocean my domain. This I, Kaarnesxaturl, swear.”

“And so it is done.”  The voice whispered in Kaarn’s mind and a fissure erupted in the floor of the cavern.  Furious red strands exploded from the crack and swirled, weaving into and around each other as they cooled.  The water screamed as lava chilled into a dark glassy black, obsidian.  It took little more than a second, but before Kaarn a Torc had been crafted of blood from the worlds heart.  It oozed darkness, radiated power from symbols that were woven into its very shape, and whispered of a great destiny.  At once it was clear that the God had not deceived the First Tyrant.  This was a power beyond mortality. 

Kaarn was mesmerized by the torc’s creation, all six eyes locked tightly on its birth. The pangs of its spawning into the world were noises unlike any he had ever heard before. As the trinket cooled and hung in the waters before him, it took everything in Kaarn’s power to restrain his tentacles from their rampant curiosity. Even as they reached out, Kaarnesxaturl tugged them back towards himself. At long last his gaze was able to break away from the torc, looking to Tekret to be sure it was his to take.

It was not something for words, and so there were none.  As soon as his eyes touched upon the god the First Tyrant merely knew, in every way that one can know, that the Torc was his.

That awareness was all Kaarn needed to reach forward for the Torc, taking it into his forward four tentacles with fascination and curiosity raging in his heart. The ring was flipped and turned about in his grip, eyes devouring every minute detail and curve of the divine artifact. With bated breath, gills falling silent, Kaarnesxaturl pulled the torc over his forward-right first-down tentacle. Though belonging to the smallest pair of tentacles by far, Kaarn felt the surge of power already coursing through him even as the torc simply brushed against his hide. His eyes peered down at the searing blackness that flowed from the torc into his tentacle and in an instant the power threatened to overwhelm him. Kaarnesxaturl’s massive beak tightened, chipping at the edges where the contact was most forceful. As the sensation of intensity at last seemed to soften, Kaarn felt in himself might beyond reckoning. Though one tentacle asked for clarity through evidence, Kaarn knew in his heart and soul that he was now without equal among his kind. 

The awareness of such power was intoxicating. 

His gaze rose to observe the pale-vrool only to find the space Tekret Et Heret once occupied was suddenly vacant. In the end, Kaarn was most pleased; better now the God was gone, for he had MUCH to do and had no interest in being watched so closely.

[hr]

Far from the cunning plotting of the now empowered vrool tyrant, the white-form of Tekret Et Heret continued towards its next unfathomable goal. 

Beyond a shelf descending deep into the darkness below rose a vast and most dread shadow, the form casting it more so on both accounts. Six huge, glowing eyes centered one by one down on the pseudo-visage of the God of Contracts while immense tentacles pulled their way up from the seafloor, breaking the surface with ease in their unburying. It seemed that Tekret had aroused the curiosity or ire of something far more powerful than Kaarn and most certainly the God’s equal. Klaarungraxus, in all his depths, had been waiting for the conceptual god to leave his spawn’s humble abode and now seemed intent on confrontation.

[color=0054a6]”Though you tread these tides I know not your hearkening, kinsmen mine,”[/color] Klaar boomed, his thoughts to Tekret’s, the unutterable sounds of the ocean forming his resonant voice, [color=0054a6]”Your scheming is known to me but your purposes less so; why do you toil in works not of your own making? A strange meeting, in this place, for kith so distant and different. For what impetus has brought you to my depths, to grant such a boon to mine scion? ”[/color]

“I have come to your domain, Klaarungraxus, for the same reason I have journeyed to many others.”  The voice of Tekret was soft, even kindly, “I am Tekret Et Heret, the god of Contracts, and your child invoked my presence long ago.  As others have and continue to do.  My purpose here, as it is everywhere, is the same as those that bring me to them.  They swear oaths, craft agreements, and in doing so they create order, structure, and reprieve from a world that is uncaring.”

There was a thoughtful pause and Tekret pointed one of their tentacles back, towards the realm of Kaarn, before speaking again, “Your child tells me the vrool bow only to strength, and I have seen this to be true.  What he does not know is that the reason why they bow, or to whom, is irrelevant.  I seek only to create great leaders.  This is what impels me, for it is what brings order to the world.  Under Kaarn lesser vrool will thrive, have the opportunity to grow strong, where before they would have perished untested, unfulfilled.  Through conquest a ruler lives better, this is true, but so too do their subjects.”

The small white vrool, though lacking its own, seemed to meet the colossal eyes of the ocean god, “I do not mean to transgress, but I must perform the duty for which I was born.  You live for the oceans, Klaarungraxus, and I live for those in, and above them.”

[color=0054a6]”I [i]am[/i] the Oceans, Tekret Et Heret, and all beneath the waves belong to me.[/color]

Klaarungraxus leaned inwards, closing the distance between his monumental head and the small body of the contract god. His eyes did not stop in their study, sweeping their gaze across the mimicry of his own form on a far smaller scale. Despite his reservations against Tekret’s actions, the many-minds of Klaarungraxus reached consensus on the value of this new god’s actions. Tekret Et Heret could be as likely to halt such functions as Klaar could stop life from teeming in the seas. For that alone, certain leeway was in order. 

[color=0054a6]”Your ripples make waves and your actions carry merit, young god. I shall forgive this transgression for this; I hear the clarion call perhaps even more than thou. Our trust is put in thee, that you should not seek to transgress on the vrool’s nature further. Leave them to their wiles with this boon and your interests shall be mirrored in theirs.”[/color]

The huge, cephalopoidal body of Klaar lurched back, displacing tons upon tons of water with his movement. It seemed that he was content with Tekret’s reasoning, the vast majority of his disdain boiling off of him and replaced with vague curiosity. Three eyes peered back into the deep, towards Kaarn’s cavern, with great interest.

[color=0054a6]”We shall observe his works, then, with considerable scrutiny; greater still, I conceive, than I ever could have envisaged. For that lone contribution you hath mine undying gratitude. If we part now, we do so as gentle currents rather than crashing waves. An ideal conclusion.”[/color]

The little white vrool bobbed, “Then it will be so.  I bid you farewell, Klaarungraxus, the Ocean.  I will watch the waves.”

[hider=Summary]
Deep below the ocean the First Tyrant of the Vrool, Kaarnesxaturl, enjoys the spoils of his conquest. Over the last decade Kaarn has conquered or subsumed the realms of rival vrool tyrants and gathered to himself three dozen retainers from the lesser vrool of his conquests. He, clearly, feels very good about all of this.

A pale vrool invades Kaarn’s personal space bubble and offers the great vrool a boon; if only he should continue his conquests, he would be given a symbol of authority and power that would allow him to further his conquests of the ocean. Though skeptical at first, as all good vrool would be, Kaarn accepts the boon once he pushes through his natural vroolish sensibility of thinking himself better than everyone else.

As Tekret makes good their escape, they are confronted by the God of Oceans, Klaarungraxus; the big fish is not pleased. Evidently he has been watching Tekret’s invasion into his undersea realm with both curiosity and disdain. After explaining themself, Klaarungraxus realizes Tekret presents no harm to his goals or the natural order of things.

With that the two agree to part ways amicably, both planning to watch with bated breath for Kaarn’s continued successes.
[/hider]

[hider=Might Summary]

1MP - The Obsidian Torc (Tyrants Strength I: Those who wear the obsidian Torc will gain a strength far greater than their own. Their muscles and ligaments will not grow in size, but multiply many times in power.)

0DP (Discounted) - The Obsidian Torc (Unbreakable Vow I: Upon donning the Obsidian Torc a creature gains an awareness that should they ever claim the fealty of fewer than Kaarn has under his sway now, thirty six, the Torc will sap them of their very lives. A creature must consent to this condition before either this or the primary effect of the Torc come into effect.)

[/hider]