Imperator Glaaki sat on the Infernal Throne, gazing out at the shattered realm he ruled. A few days ago, as if days here meant anything, armies of mortals clashed on a meaningless road, by a meaningless city, in a distant world full of creatures so much frailer than he. Under any other circumstances, even a battle so fierce and bloody as the one waged east of Delos on the eve of 921 AF would have scarcely deserved his full attention. It just so happened that it was a decisive bout, one that would establish Sapience's first empire in nearly a thousand years - and Sapience was exactly where his hopes for expansion lay.

"It is time to bestow a gift upon our allies," he said.

At his side, Jy'Barrak Dameron joined him in ignoring the pathetic, broken thing that lay between them. In a gesture of agreement, understanding, or both, he flicked his long, serpentine tongue over his thin lips.

"The Prime grows nearer with every victory," said Dameron.

"So it does. Our new Overseer will continue to impress, I am sure."

Neither Chaos Lord grinned, smiled, or relaxed despite the good news. As truly powerful entities often do, they both knew terrible tidings yet lay on the horizon.

In the distance, something gurgled.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Summary: Glaaki decides to bestow a gift upon Ashtan in celebration of becoming the first modern Empire. Some ominous knowledge prevented him from truly rejoicing.


Penned by My hand on the 20th of Sarapin, in the year 922 AF.