Location: Nektar’s Cauldron, Kra
Timeline: Sixth Age, 47th Year, Spring
Ah, the bliss of a job well done. Kaoz, my new favorite little myz, was back on his path, his mind now a gleaming new toy of my own design. Confident that he wouldn’t stray, I turned my attention to other, more pressing matters. The little mortals I am forced to watch over believed I was a being of singular purpose, but my genius, you see, was vast and multifaceted.
It’s time I had a break from grand schemes and petty pawns, I sighed, looking out at the vistas from a hidden balcony high in the side of the volcano that was Nektar’s Cauldron. The sun was ‘rising’ over flat earth east, a lazy, golden eye peeking over the horizon, while mists from the clouds at my height still covered the world below in a gray haze. My keen eyes, of course, weren’t bothered by the obscurity; they penetrated to sights on the ground better than any eagle’s eyes were ever capable of – for example I could clearly see that the heavenly body called ‘The Sun’ wasn’t ‘rising’ at all, but was instead following it’s fixed elliptical path above the planet. I knew the science behind this perfectly since the sun was one of three such energy forces which Lucifer and I created eons ago – it always pleased me to see that the sun, moon, and even the secret, invisible to mortal sight ‘Dark Sun’ dutifully remained on their fixed paths like clockwork.
With the dawn, I casually observed the beehive of slave activity below me—with Derrka continually bringing ore up from the mines, other goblins working the farmlands, and more of the same tending to the livestock—all of them under the command of my myz taskmasters. Yet none of this interested me today. The daily grind of lesser beings was so dreadfully dull. Instead, my scientific mind was ever drawn back to my first love: creation. And, more importantly, deconstruction.
“I need a new experiment. But what?” I asked myself, staring into the rising sun and absorbing its pure ultraviolet rays. That’s when I remembered. “Captain Gol—why, he’s the perfect man for the job!”
Within the hour, I was scrubbed, gowned, and ready to get to work on Gol in Life Lab #7. This laboratory is one of my personal favorites. It’s a clean, sterile, terrifying place of white marble and black obsidian, a monument to the cold, clinical art of suffering. The air is always at a precise temperature, the tools laid out with a perfect symmetry that would make the most obsessive surgeon weep with envy. As I approached the cold metal table to which the deformed man was strapped, I leaned over and looked into my victim’s eyes. I wanted to confirm he was intelligent enough to realize that the pain coming his way was hopelessly unavoidable.
“You know,” I smiled, giddy with anticipation, my voice a soft, silken whisper that was amplified by the lab’s acoustics.
For months, Captain Gol had been locked in a cell in one of my most vile dungeons, a punishment for his blunder that had cost me the life of Aspus, a spy whose story I never fully extracted because of Gol’s untimely mistake. The fact that Gol had survived the ordeal was a testament to the goblin man’s grit; I was hoping this would be the case and was pleased that my evaluation of the man had proven true. Gol must have known that when the guards from his former platoon came to take him to The Cleansing Rooms—a place with an equally ironic name—it meant his brief time in the dungeons was coming to an end… and that new evils awaited him.
If you saw Gol’s body, you’d likely have been disgusted by the sight of it. The bloated, dun-colored goblin was naked, and the steel wool and sand soap used by the scrubbers in the Cleansing Rooms had left his skin full of red abrasions and raw patches. The blob of a man was also hairless for this particular experiment and I could tell by the way he twitched that the itchiness he felt was driving him crazy.
I took a moment to select a scalpel from my work station. It was made of bone and obsidian, a lovely contrast to his raw skin. I looked into the man’s eyes again, ready to make the first cut. Yet as the goblin stared back at me, I couldn’t help but pause – for Gol was looking at me not with fear, but with love.
“Ah, Captain Gol, you’ve always enamored me too,” I cooed, my smile widening.
I stayed my hand from the cut and instead took a moment to enter the cursed man’s psyche, to listen to his mind.
Shedu Mazai, I have failed you, Captain Gol averred to me, even though he couldn’t speak. Do what you will, I gladly accept it. I am but a tool, and you, my Master, may use me as you see fit.
Well, this is new. I was genuinely surprised at the man’s take on his situation. The minds of most (read: all) of my former victims in the Life Labs literally screamed for mercy, begged for release, and eventually prayed for death. And yet, Captain Gol seemed to be different. Had I not been so evil, perhaps I may have even considered letting him go. Unfortunately for Gol, that thought never crossed my mind. Evil Death was, after all, my favorite of all my monikers.
Flashing my most sinister grin, one that I knew would not be seen but would be felt, I leaned in for the first cut. The skin flayed away with a wet, satisfying tear…
Two days later, I was still in the lab with Captain Gol. We’d shared so many delightful moments, and more was yet to come. So far, I’d flayed off numerous sections of his skin. I had his body cavity opened from neck to groin, various internal organs had been removed, and even his skull cap had been sawed off. Everywhere, EVERYWHERE, there was blood, a vibrant, life-affirming red against the pristine white marble.
And yet, through the mastery that I possessed, Captain Gol was still very much alive. A life-sustaining concoction I had developed kept his heart pumping, his nerves screaming.
Throughout the ordeal, I’d occasionally paused to listen in on Gol’s thoughts. But the more I gave my loving touch to his body, the more addled his mind had become. And yet, it wasn’t completely gone. The goblin still knew that while I would eventually walk out of Life Lab, he most certainly would not. In addition, Captain Gol stubbornly held on to a singular thought—his mind screaming it like a mantra: Serve Master! Serve Master! I Serve Master!
“And you have, my dear,” I looked lovingly down at what was left of the derkka goblin. “If I had a heart, you’d have a place in it forever.”
Looking up at me with the one eye that was still intact, I saw that the mangled man understood. I watched as a salty tear of love ran slowly down the folds of his fat cheek. Then it was that I realized that Captain Gol may well have been my most loyal servant ever—a true devotee.
And I vowed to honor him when all this was over!
Caressing his bloody hand, I cooed soothing words to my… friend.
But I didn’t let that little moment stop me from my work – unfortunately for Captain Gol it was now time to try out my Formula 409 on him.
Two weeks later, I finally paused.
“Brilliant!” I rejoiced. “Formula 409 is a success.”
Captain Gol’s body lay sprawled atop the work slab. Every inch of his skin had been flayed. All his fat had been cut out, and the veins in his muscles were clearly visible. And still blood flowed through them, albeit very, very slowly.
I’d been studying the black marrow that oozed out from the bone in Gol’s upper left arm, the viscous liquid showing clear signs of the presence of Formula 409 and proving to me that I could use my secret prescription to extend the lives of my test subjects indefinitely.
“Well, it only took me 408 failures—but who’s counting?” I laughed, the sound echoing through the lab. “I’m glad Formula 409 worked, because I’m not sure the world is ready for what I had in mind for Formula 410!”
I wasn’t just prolonging life; I was creating a canvas for endless experimentation. A being could now endure a level of pain and transformation that would have instantly killed any mortal. This wasn’t just a win; it was a revolution! I could now push the boundaries of my creations to their very limits. I could perhaps even create an army of unkillable servants, beings who could survive any wound, any punishment.
And more importantly, I could apply this principle to souls. The Stellarone were a stubborn lot, powerful, yet so fragile in their unbound state. But what if I could make them immortal, even outside of a mortal coil? What if I could use this formula to keep even one of my rival lumenarc’s soul intact, separate from its physical body, for all eternity? Why, if so, then I would have a new kind of power, a new kind of currency. I could ensnare the souls of my rivals, keeping them in a perpetual state of agonizing life for as long as I wished. And then I would be The God of All!
Putting down the scalpel, I let the good vibes flow through me. “Oh, what a glorious day!” I waltzed around the lab, a jaunty little tune playing in my head as I celebrated my success.
Eventually I returned to my work and finished the experiment with the good captain.
After I was done, while washing up in the basin at the head of the table, the scientific wheels inside my head still churned, always searching for a way to improve on my designs. As I stood there, I took a last look at the now lifeless form upon the table.
It’s true—in the end, I had let Captain Gol expire. It would have been too much effort to keep him alive, and I had other things on my mind again. “Could I have done more?” I sighed, a feigned moment of regret. “Perhaps.” But then I could feel my pride welling up inside as I let myself bask in the glow of yet another success. “Oh well, friend or not, Captain Gol was only a derk. Baal knows, I can always make more!”
For his part, Gol’s blank eye remained staring up at a small crack in the stone ceiling. It was likely the last thing his feeble mind had noted before the pain had over-shadowed all, leaving instead the nebulous blackness that engulfed his unfortunate soul.
A soul which I, as The Black Harvester, was now eager to engulf. His essence was special now. Imbued with the knowledge and power of Formula 409, his soul was a prize, a new ingredient in my cosmic kitchen. The perfect souvenir to commemorate my latest victory. And one which I vowed Lucifer – The Soul Eater – would never get his hands on – for Gol – and soon all the rest of the souls in the universe – would be mine, all mine!
The Apocrypha of Azazel 