83 Preparations (1/2)

The prospect of violence and the inevitability of the fall of my foes didn't thrill me. I recognized that the possession of powers like mine, and the capabilities to enact incredible violence on those I deemed my foes would likely please many mortals, but I didn't relish the idea of slaying my foes.

Well... that wasn't entirely true. There was a part of me, a cruel and malignant part of me, that was thrilled by the idea of violence. It was even more thrilled by the idea of witnessing the aftermath of the sort of battle that I recognized was inevitable if I were to clash with the reptilefolks.

A part of me, introspective and inquisitive in equal measure, wondered which of the domains and subdomains in me were responsible for corrupting the portion of myself that was excited by the inevitability of violence and death. I recognized the possibility that the part of me that was excited by this was a portion of myself that wasn't corrupted by external influence but I didn't want it to be. I wanted this black-hearted part of myself to owe its existence to powerful and subtle external voices.

My assumption was that this part of me was being subtly corrupted by the influence of the domain of evil, and the subdomains of corruption and necromancy. That said it was very possible that this was an internal excitement that I innately felt and wasn't due to the influence of any domain or subdomain. And given that gods were creatures of destruction, I didn't doubt the real possibility that violence and death themselves were what motivated the part of me that was black-hearted.

I was born a creature of chaos. Living in human society tempered this aspect of me, but it was there and it was real. It lurked beneath the surface of my humanlike appearance. It motivated me to want to cause change. And as I listened to Dr. Cortes lecture me on the importance of potions, I recognized a vital truth: death was a form of change.

To distract myself from the bloodiness of what I was to do, I turned away from pondering about the portion of my heart that was dark. Instead I opted to focus on something new and beneficial: readying myself and my allies for a conflict.

My mind turned to the endless natural graves of the world beneath the world. Thanks to my mastery over darkness and my incredible necromantic abilities there was something fun I possessed the power to do: construct an army. An army of the dead.

”I can use these creatures.” I told myself, as I pondered the fates of the countless legions of the dead that lurked within the island of Puerto Rico. I could sense billions of corpses that were perfectly suitable to my dark needs. And I was quickly reminded that my mind wasn't a perfectly safe, perfectly isolated place when a dark voice spoke to me, urged on by my menacing musings.

”If you want to create an unstoppable army of the dead... you possess the power to do so. And remember that your undead legions are no longer stagnate. Even now the undead servants you've created are powerful, empowered further by the powers you've gained since you created them.” A voice told me, the quiet and scheming voice of the subdomain of necromancy.

I heard a smile in its whispers, a cadence that hinted that the speaker felt delighted. I didn't judge it for that, as I myself felt delighted at this moment. I also felt excited. Excited enough to entertain a number of thoughts about alternative methods of handling the reptilefolk. After all, I recognized this for what it was: an opportunity to unleash my powers. A moment where I could act of my own accord, and proceed how I saw fit.

And so I took a moment to contemplate how my ideas might play out.

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I took a moment to envision myself alone against the reptilefolks. I pictured myself arriving in their settlement, hundreds of them within it at any time and the scenes that'd result from me unleashing my powers in full at them. I saw myself alone in their lair, reptilefolk blood soaking the floors of their homes.

I pictured the feeling of countless rays of arcane, divine, and elemental energies shooting out of me. I pictured the fallen reptilefolk immediately rising up to serve me. I pictured the delight I'd feel in taking and defeating countless reptilefolks alone or with the help of their freshly deceased kin.

But that wasn't the only thing I could picture. I had options, as I was no longer the inexperienced god I had been days ago. And another route came to mind.

If I wanted to stage a miraculous escape for those the reptilefolk enslaved I didn't even need to make myself known to them. I could easily turn the very homes of the reptilefolks against them.

It would be an easy act. I felt the earth under my feet, even in the doctor's laboratory, wish to be used. I could feel the thrum of the world under my feet cry out in need of a command. Instantly freeing the slaves the reptilefolk unjustly kept could be done in an instant.

And even then there were other options. The most dramatic option for me was to raise the army of the dead I knew I wanted to raise. Or rather I knew I wanted to continue raising. I commanded countless legions of sapient ant-exoskeletons. They worshipped me, and they clamored for orders.

”What if instead of just giving them orders, I gave them brethren?” I asked myself, a cruel grin on my face.

I pictured an unstoppable legion of the walking dead descending upon the reptilefolks. I pictured settlements crushed under a horde of the shambling dead, and I envisioned the slaves of the reptilefolks staring at their unusual saviors in confusion before I appear and declare that the slaves are to be freed.

Those images were hauntingly beautiful. I felt them cause a stir in my soul. I wanted to do that. I wanted to create a true horde of the dead. If I felt like rationalizing it, I could say something poetic like that I wanted to show those who had long been taken from their homes that justice took on a myriad of forms, many unexpected.

That said I wasn't in the business of self-deception. The truth was that I just liked the idea of a horde of the dead obeying my commands. I liked the idea of a horde of servants who worshipped me as their creator and as their master. And the undead did just that.

I knew in my heart that this was the option I wanted to pick. I had no way of knowing that even as I settled on this option that I was about to be handed a brilliant excuse to enact it. And the form that excuse took, was a pair of my servants finally asking for their rewards.

”Master, days ago you informed us that you sought to reward us. You told us that you wanted us to ask for a reward for our assistance in the accomplishment of your goals.” Whispered an unexpected voice. It was the voice of Imbrosa, the beautiful drider on whom Sombra's physical body is partially based. Her voice was songlike, but it was a quiet song. One unlike any I had ever heard before.

I was quiet while I waited for her to speak more. She didn't keep me waiting.

”I have an idea for my reward. I wish for you to reanimate my mate.” She told me. I was surprised by this, but more surprised by the fact that I didn't detect any sort of love in her voice. She spoke of her mate, flatly revealed that he had perished, and she didn't sound saddened by it. It was odd to hear her make such a request, without sounding emotionally affected by the passing of her mate.

I didn't respond to her. I would do as she wished, and the truth was that I suspected that if I looked internally I'd find a part of me that was relieved that that was her wish. The timing of her wish felt like an indication that I was on the right path, even though I knew that it was no such thing and was just a happy coincidence.

I stayed silent for a moment longer, and right as I was about to reply to Imbrosa she spoke once more. This time she began with a sigh, a careful and measured one. It was a curious thing to hear and made me chuckle.

”If you're gonna be silent, I'm assuming you're waiting for more information. My memories were foggy when I was reanimated. My mate and I clashed with others of our kind, for reasons that escape me, and he died before I did. The fool was always weaker than I was. And he paid for that. And then, later on, so did I.” She said, sighing between sentences. Now, this I replied to.

”Imbrosa, I will fulfill your wish. And... you shall soon find many more like you fighting alongside you.” I told her, hinting at the darkness of my ambitions. I heard a peal of soft and satisfied laughter emanate from her, as well as quiet feelings of gratitude.

A moment later I received a message from Nivar, the grave giant. Her voice was a powerful one, and very curiously her voice was colored by emotion.

”Master! I have a request I'd like you to consider.” She said, excitement audible in her voice. I replied to her, though I had a feeling I knew what she'd ask me.

”Hello Nivar. Yes? What is this request you'd like for me to consider?” I asked, curiously.

”Master, I have told you of the strange qualities of my people. I would like for you to reanimate my kind. I can sense that they are still not reanimated. Which is... intriguing.” Nivar said, purposefully leaving out details that were almost certainly important.

For a moment I considered not pressing the giant on this. That said the truth was that her people's physiology was odd and I was curious about her kind's circumstances.

”What are you not telling me Nivar? I have no qualms about reanimating your kin, but if you withhold information from me you will be held accountable for it. And you don't want that. Tell me what you are hiding.” I commanded, revealing that I was on board with reanimating her tribe but also promising to punish her if she tried to hide information from me. I heard her hiss in annoyance, probably directed in equal parts towards myself and herself. That caused me to laugh softly.

”Master...” She began. I felt a spark of resistance, or hesitation emanate from her. And that spark provoked a reaction from me, my expression sharpening cruelly for a second. But as quickly as the spark appeared it vanished.

”Master, please accept my sincerest apologies. I did not wish to embrass myself, is all.” She started, humbling herself by apologizing. I calmed myself, and waited for her to continue speaking.

”I was part of a group of... runaways from a tribe of grave-giants. When we fled we said that one of us was supposed to survive a ritual we'd perform and ensure that the others were reanimated as intelligent, free-willed undead creatures. I was chosen for that honor, but I was set upon by a massive monster and killed in the wake of ritual sacrifice my peers performed on themselves.” Nivar explained, revealing the humiliating circumstances behind her death.

Upon hearing that, I could feel a pang of sympathetic understanding for her plight. That didn't stop me from being annoyed that she took so long to tell me this though. Something I made quite clear with my next remark.

”You should have told me sooner. Nothing has happened to the corpses of the grave giants, but if I had known about this earlier I would have reanimated your kin far earlier. Do not repeat this mistake. Keeping secrets like this may deprive me of opportunities to gain more power.” I told her, making my displeasure with her selfishness clear. I heard her sigh, disappointed in herself and felt her anger towards her sense of pride. And it resulted in me feeling even more sympathy towards her.

”Hmm... What can I do here?” I asked myself, wondering if I could find a way to use this moment to turn Nivar into a pious adherent of mine. I sensed a vague and ill-defined opportunity, but I wasn't sure how to use it.

The grave giants were an unusual race. They were gigantic humanoids and had a striking physiology that empowered them when they came back from the dead instead of weakening them. As a god of necromancy that made them powerful and ideal servants. I could sense the endless applications of their strange powers and adaptable bodies, and that made me want them.