Zeno Ralin
The Life Eater
In a couple of sentences:
A narcissist at heart, his love for himself knows no bounds. Long has he tossed aside the shackles of emotional attachment. In this, Zeno is a callous and manipulative puppeteer who exists to tangle others in his web of machinations. There is not a face he won't wear to gain the trust of another for personal gain. His temper can be explosive but is kept under control sufficiently by an almost airhead lack of focus outside of matters of importance. Quite often his sexual deviance is but a means to sate is physical hunger; to bask in the physical and mental torment of others fulfills him in a way few things can. No one can question the depth of Zeno's wicked heart or how vile his actions might be. All of this said, he is far from incapable of conversing with; a chat with Zeno more often than not is simply just that. |
General idea of clothing: [x]
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Physical Information
➘ Full Name: Zeno K. Ralin
➘ Aliases: Zeno, The Life Eater, Abomination
➘ Age (Lived Years): Somewhere in the ballpark of 4500 years, give or take a few centuries.
➘ Physical Age: Appears to be in his late twenties/early thirties, human years of course
➘ Gender: Male
➘ Race: A genetic amalgamation of countless species devoured and made apart of him throughout the ages. The base and foremost expressed form is that of a human.
➘ Body Type: Tall and handsome, broad shoulders, strong jawline.
➘ Height: 6'2"
➘ Weight: 225 lbs
➘ Coordination: He's lived a long time, he knows how to use his body well.
➘ Reflexes: Sharp eyes and a quick wit let him react well to nearly whatever is thrown at him.
➘ Physical Strength: By far his magical prowess and ties to the abyss are his forte in respect to his overall strength. With both he can wipe a city clean in moments. That said, Zeno is more than capable of tearing limb from flesh and taking blows beyond the average mortal shell, but don't expect him to be punching through mountains.
Appearance
➘ Zeno knows how to dress well, wearing tailored suits of the finest silks, though seldom does he actually put this to practice. Instead, having almost no patience in the process of presenting himself properly, putting to waste money that went into his attire in the first place. His jacket unbuttoned and worn to the point of no longer holding the same tight fit it used to. The tones of his suits vary but rarely is he in mismatched colors, the pants, and jacket will keep in line to not give the man an absurd look. A tie is typically hung around his neck with a knot on occasion loosely tied. When not then the fabric wraps around his neck like a scarf. His formal shirts are typically in white or cooler hues, sometimes managing to be fully stuffed into his pants, which also lack a belt. Well-worn and scuffed black leather oxford shoes often adorn his feet, clearly used for more than business meetings and extravagant dinner parties. Occasionally, he forgoes the jacket altogether, but it would be quite an infrequent sighting for him to be caught in what would be considered casual clothing such as jeans or shorts with a t-shirt of some kind. A monster through and through, but he rather enjoys holding his visual standings to a degree over most others. It is not uncommon for his clothes to give off a strong aroma of smoke considering he has a cigarette in his mouth when he's not yapping away. Lacking attentiveness often will cause issues on his part when traveling from a job to a social gathering and still having the stains of his conquest all over his clothing, be it blood, grime, or bodily fluids of a different sort.
This beast possesses a grin that can be anywhere from, cocky, to alluring, to sinister, all depending on just wide it grows. At its worst Zeno can split the skin and bone of the of his lower jaw into four segments to show off a gaping maw of about two feet held in position by pitch-black sinew. Lining the walls of such a terror are teeth no longer fitting of a human shell, row after row of jagged porcelain, elongated to tear through flesh, life, and the very soul of whoever falls prey.
Zeno's physical husk is just that, a container teeming with a genetic slurry under constant internal flux. A prison for doomed souls, he can alter his flesh to meet any sort of form he desires from the various races he's consumed over the span of his life. For example: to sprout wings from his back for flight, or a massive clawed arm for defense or offense, even a third or fourth arm to keep up with someone, likewise with the growth of scales or flesh, his size as well, multiple eyes and mouths. Stress and excessive harm to his body can bring about uncontrollable changes leading to strange combinations or the figure of an outright hideous mass of parts. Not only can this be used for combat purposes, but Zeno can also adjust his standard humanoid shape to mold himself into what he vainly considers visual perfection.
Zeno's eyes are perhaps even sharper than his teeth if at all possible. Light blue, to the point of nearing an almost silver color, but never without a stare that could halt people in their tracks with how frigid it was. If not for his natural presence that draws mortals and even other supernatural entities towards him, many might cower from being under his gaze.
Personal Life/Personality
➘ Marital Status: Single
➘ Immediate Family: Zeno has sired many an offspring with women across the stars as they exist solely to propagate is legacy. While he keeps tabs on all of them, the only one that he is truly invested in is his child with Fortune, Prosper.
➘ Allies: Various people within The Corporation, ie: Silky and Azreal.
➘ Enemies: Far too many to list
➘ Followers: Certainly there are individuals, cults, planets, that worship him as a god of sorts in some places.
➘ Friends: N/A
➘ Heroes: N/A
➘ Pets/Vassals/Slaves/etc: Many, but none worth mentioning.
➘ General Alignment: Neutral Evil
➘ Sociability: Zeno is social character in every sense of the word, accepted almost anywhere at least in his mind. Whether others feel the same or not doesn't mean much to him.
➘ Sexual Orientation: Whatever sates his hunger.
➘ Lures: The Fae, beautiful women, individuals with power, social situations, a chance to show off.
➘ Savvies: Numerous schools of magic/martial arts/weapons handling, wearing a social mask for all occasions, building business/social relations, politicking.
➘ Ineptities: Anything too advanced technologically, keeping his cool when provoked, empathy, doing nothing, shutting his mouth.
➘ Profession: A galactic underworld boss of sorts is the best way to describe his title.
➘ Education: Zeno is self-taught on a vast array of topics having had all the time necessary to master any subject he desired.
➘ Hobbies: Zeno is rather sporadic in his tastes, as they change with his mood. He enjoys spending time out in public places socializing with others, but also will spend up to weeks in complete solitude doing little more than sitting in his chambers in thought. If anything, Zeno simply wants to possess all that there, be it knowledge, wealth, people, and anything in between.
➘ Religion: N/A
➘ Location of Birth: Earth
➘ Location of Death: N/A
➘ Superstitions: As old as dirt, Zeno is far too wizened to give any pause to the irrational fears of the masses when there are far more practical matters to place one's fears in.
➘ Virtues: N/A
➘ Vices: There is not a vice that Zeno does not indulge in.
➘ Likes: Reading, playing the piano, drinking, fucking, and eating; not always in that order.
➘ Dislikes: Truly, the only thing Zeno disapproves of is when his meticulous plans have a wrench thrown into them. Be it by some goody two shoes, or a strike of bad luck. He immerses himself in both good and evil so it makes it that much easier to devour all equally. With the numerous masks he wears, it's hard to get a grasp on his true feelings.
➘ Affiliations: The Corporation, countless underworld connections as well as contacts within the Federation.
➘ Addictions: No physical addictions per say, but Zeno does lavish in tormenting others emotionally and physically whenever he can.
➘ Handicaps: N/A
➘ Medical Conditions: N/A
➘ Full Name: Zeno K. Ralin
➘ Aliases: Zeno, The Life Eater, Abomination
➘ Age (Lived Years): Somewhere in the ballpark of 4500 years, give or take a few centuries.
➘ Physical Age: Appears to be in his late twenties/early thirties, human years of course
➘ Gender: Male
➘ Race: A genetic amalgamation of countless species devoured and made apart of him throughout the ages. The base and foremost expressed form is that of a human.
➘ Body Type: Tall and handsome, broad shoulders, strong jawline.
➘ Height: 6'2"
➘ Weight: 225 lbs
➘ Coordination: He's lived a long time, he knows how to use his body well.
➘ Reflexes: Sharp eyes and a quick wit let him react well to nearly whatever is thrown at him.
➘ Physical Strength: By far his magical prowess and ties to the abyss are his forte in respect to his overall strength. With both he can wipe a city clean in moments. That said, Zeno is more than capable of tearing limb from flesh and taking blows beyond the average mortal shell, but don't expect him to be punching through mountains.
Appearance
➘ Zeno knows how to dress well, wearing tailored suits of the finest silks, though seldom does he actually put this to practice. Instead, having almost no patience in the process of presenting himself properly, putting to waste money that went into his attire in the first place. His jacket unbuttoned and worn to the point of no longer holding the same tight fit it used to. The tones of his suits vary but rarely is he in mismatched colors, the pants, and jacket will keep in line to not give the man an absurd look. A tie is typically hung around his neck with a knot on occasion loosely tied. When not then the fabric wraps around his neck like a scarf. His formal shirts are typically in white or cooler hues, sometimes managing to be fully stuffed into his pants, which also lack a belt. Well-worn and scuffed black leather oxford shoes often adorn his feet, clearly used for more than business meetings and extravagant dinner parties. Occasionally, he forgoes the jacket altogether, but it would be quite an infrequent sighting for him to be caught in what would be considered casual clothing such as jeans or shorts with a t-shirt of some kind. A monster through and through, but he rather enjoys holding his visual standings to a degree over most others. It is not uncommon for his clothes to give off a strong aroma of smoke considering he has a cigarette in his mouth when he's not yapping away. Lacking attentiveness often will cause issues on his part when traveling from a job to a social gathering and still having the stains of his conquest all over his clothing, be it blood, grime, or bodily fluids of a different sort.
This beast possesses a grin that can be anywhere from, cocky, to alluring, to sinister, all depending on just wide it grows. At its worst Zeno can split the skin and bone of the of his lower jaw into four segments to show off a gaping maw of about two feet held in position by pitch-black sinew. Lining the walls of such a terror are teeth no longer fitting of a human shell, row after row of jagged porcelain, elongated to tear through flesh, life, and the very soul of whoever falls prey.
Zeno's physical husk is just that, a container teeming with a genetic slurry under constant internal flux. A prison for doomed souls, he can alter his flesh to meet any sort of form he desires from the various races he's consumed over the span of his life. For example: to sprout wings from his back for flight, or a massive clawed arm for defense or offense, even a third or fourth arm to keep up with someone, likewise with the growth of scales or flesh, his size as well, multiple eyes and mouths. Stress and excessive harm to his body can bring about uncontrollable changes leading to strange combinations or the figure of an outright hideous mass of parts. Not only can this be used for combat purposes, but Zeno can also adjust his standard humanoid shape to mold himself into what he vainly considers visual perfection.
Zeno's eyes are perhaps even sharper than his teeth if at all possible. Light blue, to the point of nearing an almost silver color, but never without a stare that could halt people in their tracks with how frigid it was. If not for his natural presence that draws mortals and even other supernatural entities towards him, many might cower from being under his gaze.
Personal Life/Personality
➘ Marital Status: Single
➘ Immediate Family: Zeno has sired many an offspring with women across the stars as they exist solely to propagate is legacy. While he keeps tabs on all of them, the only one that he is truly invested in is his child with Fortune, Prosper.
➘ Allies: Various people within The Corporation, ie: Silky and Azreal.
➘ Enemies: Far too many to list
➘ Followers: Certainly there are individuals, cults, planets, that worship him as a god of sorts in some places.
➘ Friends: N/A
➘ Heroes: N/A
➘ Pets/Vassals/Slaves/etc: Many, but none worth mentioning.
➘ General Alignment: Neutral Evil
➘ Sociability: Zeno is social character in every sense of the word, accepted almost anywhere at least in his mind. Whether others feel the same or not doesn't mean much to him.
➘ Sexual Orientation: Whatever sates his hunger.
➘ Lures: The Fae, beautiful women, individuals with power, social situations, a chance to show off.
➘ Savvies: Numerous schools of magic/martial arts/weapons handling, wearing a social mask for all occasions, building business/social relations, politicking.
➘ Ineptities: Anything too advanced technologically, keeping his cool when provoked, empathy, doing nothing, shutting his mouth.
➘ Profession: A galactic underworld boss of sorts is the best way to describe his title.
➘ Education: Zeno is self-taught on a vast array of topics having had all the time necessary to master any subject he desired.
➘ Hobbies: Zeno is rather sporadic in his tastes, as they change with his mood. He enjoys spending time out in public places socializing with others, but also will spend up to weeks in complete solitude doing little more than sitting in his chambers in thought. If anything, Zeno simply wants to possess all that there, be it knowledge, wealth, people, and anything in between.
➘ Religion: N/A
➘ Location of Birth: Earth
➘ Location of Death: N/A
➘ Superstitions: As old as dirt, Zeno is far too wizened to give any pause to the irrational fears of the masses when there are far more practical matters to place one's fears in.
➘ Virtues: N/A
➘ Vices: There is not a vice that Zeno does not indulge in.
➘ Likes: Reading, playing the piano, drinking, fucking, and eating; not always in that order.
➘ Dislikes: Truly, the only thing Zeno disapproves of is when his meticulous plans have a wrench thrown into them. Be it by some goody two shoes, or a strike of bad luck. He immerses himself in both good and evil so it makes it that much easier to devour all equally. With the numerous masks he wears, it's hard to get a grasp on his true feelings.
➘ Affiliations: The Corporation, countless underworld connections as well as contacts within the Federation.
➘ Addictions: No physical addictions per say, but Zeno does lavish in tormenting others emotionally and physically whenever he can.
➘ Handicaps: N/A
➘ Medical Conditions: N/A
Abilities
➘ General Overview/Limits: Zeno has not always been a mage, coming from a warrior tribe initially. Since rising above his mortal frame a lifetime and some change ago, he threw off the need for physical confrontation to that of a more abstract nature in magic. With well over three thousand years of magi experience and growth under his belt, there is little he can't do with his mastered schools. Along with that, his mana pool to pull from is massive, beyond what he could contain were he not an amalgamation of multiple forms. Even if he were not to have access to his "conventional" magics. The abyssal powers under his control have no true limits other than being tied to the host. If you're to fight Zeno, either aim to end it quickly, or not at all, because the more time he has, the more of his vast archive he can display.
➘ General Overview/Limits: Zeno has not always been a mage, coming from a warrior tribe initially. Since rising above his mortal frame a lifetime and some change ago, he threw off the need for physical confrontation to that of a more abstract nature in magic. With well over three thousand years of magi experience and growth under his belt, there is little he can't do with his mastered schools. Along with that, his mana pool to pull from is massive, beyond what he could contain were he not an amalgamation of multiple forms. Even if he were not to have access to his "conventional" magics. The abyssal powers under his control have no true limits other than being tied to the host. If you're to fight Zeno, either aim to end it quickly, or not at all, because the more time he has, the more of his vast archive he can display.
- Ties to the Abyss: His contract to the gods beyond this world allow him unfettered access to their dark magic. He can freely manipulate the shadows and darkness itself as he feels fit This lets him have a free range of abilities ranging from movement through darkness or anything connected to the abyss; as well as creating either visible or hidden physical manifestations of the shadows. Through his maw he tears through life and soul to feed not only his insatiable hunger, but also to provide offerings to the elder ones.
- Elemental Affinity [Water]: Zeno can pull water from any source as a catalyst for his magic. By far this is his greatest magical school at the peak of study. There is little that can't be done from forming walls and torrents of water and freezing them in the same utterance, to turning his body to the element itself. He can create constructs of water and ice, or even take a step in the opposite direction of destruction and cleanse both pain and poison with a gentle touch. Without a barrier to protect oneself, he'd also be able to freeze or wither most humanoids from the inside out just by manipulating the water in their bodies.
- Genetic Manipulation: Over the years, Zeno has taken other life forms into his body through means not so savory granting him incredible supernatural strength and speed. His body is more a shell these days with a slurry of genetic material filling his insides. At will he can alter his body to fit his needs be that changing his appearance, size and shape, adding appendages from races clearly not human.
- Soul Devour: From a newly freshly slain corpse, or a "willing", living participant. He can extract their soul and add it as a sort of battery to his own strength using the ethereal energies to extend his life and power.
- True Sight: The ability to see through illusions supernatural, magical and metaphysical. Allows one's true form to be seen. There are always exceptions, of course.
Weapons/Gear
➘ While in his earlier days, martial combat would easily be considered his forte, in this age with all the power able to be flung from his fingertips he sees little necessity to keep up with his swordplay. Not to say he doesn't have a relic or two from his past to bring out for the sake of nostalgia.
➘ While in his earlier days, martial combat would easily be considered his forte, in this age with all the power able to be flung from his fingertips he sees little necessity to keep up with his swordplay. Not to say he doesn't have a relic or two from his past to bring out for the sake of nostalgia.
A Little Snippet of Their Life:
The story of a man like Zeno could start in a multitude of fashions. One could say that Zeno had lived the toughest of lives, that what he had experienced in his youth shaped and molded him into the abyssal entity he would eventually become. Perhaps instead, he had a quaint life and merely bided his time till he could let loose his suppressed desires. Whether or not any of these possibilities hold a thread of factual standing is up for debate by many a bard as not a soul from the abomination's distant past exists in the present day. However, the truth when spoken by the monster's lips paints an entirely different tale, if one can believe him through his countless falsehoods; the only reason the being known as Zeno resides in the mortal planes these days is from but a bit of luck and the raw desire to live.
Several millennia in the past, the boy who later would become Zeno went by the name K'awi. An uneventful upbringing in a meager ancient Mayan tribe brought few surprises and K'awi in turn, matched his human companions born in this era. He was a weak and simpleminded sack of meat. Life followed a cycle: One would wake up, hunt for food, clean what had been caught, cook, eat, spend what time remained socializing, and then fall asleep. If fate had allowed this particular young man to continue upon his bland path, K'awi would have lived and died in an unexceptional manner.
K'awi, unbeknownst to him, would be forced from this path. Trails awaited boy, and an existence unique to him lie at the end. The strong stand over the weak, a basic guiding rule of life both not only in modern times but in the past as well. This principle fact is how K'awi's tribe found itself under the oppressive heel of a collection of clans that had been on the warpath assimilating villages in their surrounding region, whether they desired it or not. While K'awi had the training of a warrior like his fellow men, they were to be overwhelmed by the pure number of their forces; a slaughter of his people. To be spared, one had to be a woman or a child of the working class. Being the son of the high priest and neither of what the opposing tribe desired of him, he had only one recourse.
Wishing to save himself from death, he fled into the forests. Any lingering care in his basic mind over what concerned his family or his tribe faded, replaced by the purest instinct for survival. His lingering adrenaline from combat brought a swiftness to his legs and reflexes never experienced. Unfortunately for K'awi, that would still not be enough. Barely ten, K'awi had no way to move with a pace or skill needed to lose seasoned hunters and trackers, especially with him blindly sprinting through woods he seldom ventured into. A short trek outside the boundaries of his home, he'd been cornered with his back to a tree with the trio of men closing in. Their sharp spears raised to strike him down, the boy frightfully gazed at his end.
K'awi was not to die yet, not here. At seven feet did the stranger stand, towering above the hunters while cloaked in a midnight hue. As if out of thin air the mysterious figure interrupted the killing. Their weapons falling to the ground, they moved not an inch as if struck by unimaginable fear. True enough, even as K'awi watched the being, feelings of dread froze him on the spot despite the desire to escape with every fiber of his might. With a swipe of clawed digits, blood-red crescents wrought a momentary silence to the forest. Once the deadly blades tore through the hunters, all that remained were crimson streaks across the vegetation. The demonic presence did not turn K'awi into a similar spatter and to this day Zeno wondered what turn of events led to that fateful meeting.
Advancing towards the speech stricken youth, paralyzed both by terror and adrenaline having long taxed his diminutive muscles, he put a single finger under the boy's chin and straightened him up. "My child, do you not wish for a magnificent role in this never-ending cycle of life?" Heated breath reeking of smoldering ashes washed over K'awi's face, but now he was able to peer at the inhuman features which had been prior obscured. This revelation did not help. "Do you not wish you could have stopped these men yourself, nay their entire tribe from slaughtering your people? I can make it as such. All you must do is ask it of me." A devilish grin did the creature wear, for he knew K'awi had only one answer to what had been more a statement than a question.
K'awi, even in his young naivety, was not so foolish to assume an offer of absolute dominion did not possess a steep price. What did he have to lose, though? His tribe had been raised and captured by ones who would have him executed on the spot, his insignificant slate wiped clean without a single soul to even remember his name in the years to come. As if the innocence had been torn from K'awi, he mimicked the toothy snarl of a smirk that his opposite beamed. Whatever payment this demon wanted from K'awi could not have been worse than the alternative. Perhaps when that crossroad was marched he would obtain the ability to best his master. His body barely able to hold itself up of its own accord, he gasped the words that needed to be spoken. "Give me what I need."
"Then It is done." A guttural roar from the demon as he marked the boy as his property with a burning thumb pressed against his forehead. Exhausted, the once tribal boy collapsed in a heap at the base of the tree. From this point onward, K'awi ceased to be and Zeno would rise from the meek beginnings. The demon taught Zeno a plethora of talents and skills, allowing the growing man unfettered access to a world surpassing his prior primitive imagination. Reigning supreme in a simplistic era, there was a final test of sorts for Zeno to undergo. To Zeno's surprise, his demon master served an order of elder gods living in a ring of existence impossibly distant from his own. He was to be a vessel for their enigmatic intents, and in return, he lauded in their vile views, enabling him to tap into their abyssal well of power. Unable to turn back at the precipice he stood upon, there was but a sole option to take, as seemed to be the case for his entire life as of late.
Granted a unique gift of absolute consumption, his body became a prison for the souls he'd devour; his first victim, the demon who had allowed him to rise in the first place put up a nonexistent resistance. In his final moments, there was not a hint of regret, proclaiming that this had been his purpose all along.
Thus, Zeno was alone, but not truly, as the gods were eagerly awaiting him to fulfill an unspoken promise to deliver an ineffable bounty of unto them.
The story of a man like Zeno could start in a multitude of fashions. One could say that Zeno had lived the toughest of lives, that what he had experienced in his youth shaped and molded him into the abyssal entity he would eventually become. Perhaps instead, he had a quaint life and merely bided his time till he could let loose his suppressed desires. Whether or not any of these possibilities hold a thread of factual standing is up for debate by many a bard as not a soul from the abomination's distant past exists in the present day. However, the truth when spoken by the monster's lips paints an entirely different tale, if one can believe him through his countless falsehoods; the only reason the being known as Zeno resides in the mortal planes these days is from but a bit of luck and the raw desire to live.
Several millennia in the past, the boy who later would become Zeno went by the name K'awi. An uneventful upbringing in a meager ancient Mayan tribe brought few surprises and K'awi in turn, matched his human companions born in this era. He was a weak and simpleminded sack of meat. Life followed a cycle: One would wake up, hunt for food, clean what had been caught, cook, eat, spend what time remained socializing, and then fall asleep. If fate had allowed this particular young man to continue upon his bland path, K'awi would have lived and died in an unexceptional manner.
K'awi, unbeknownst to him, would be forced from this path. Trails awaited boy, and an existence unique to him lie at the end. The strong stand over the weak, a basic guiding rule of life both not only in modern times but in the past as well. This principle fact is how K'awi's tribe found itself under the oppressive heel of a collection of clans that had been on the warpath assimilating villages in their surrounding region, whether they desired it or not. While K'awi had the training of a warrior like his fellow men, they were to be overwhelmed by the pure number of their forces; a slaughter of his people. To be spared, one had to be a woman or a child of the working class. Being the son of the high priest and neither of what the opposing tribe desired of him, he had only one recourse.
Wishing to save himself from death, he fled into the forests. Any lingering care in his basic mind over what concerned his family or his tribe faded, replaced by the purest instinct for survival. His lingering adrenaline from combat brought a swiftness to his legs and reflexes never experienced. Unfortunately for K'awi, that would still not be enough. Barely ten, K'awi had no way to move with a pace or skill needed to lose seasoned hunters and trackers, especially with him blindly sprinting through woods he seldom ventured into. A short trek outside the boundaries of his home, he'd been cornered with his back to a tree with the trio of men closing in. Their sharp spears raised to strike him down, the boy frightfully gazed at his end.
K'awi was not to die yet, not here. At seven feet did the stranger stand, towering above the hunters while cloaked in a midnight hue. As if out of thin air the mysterious figure interrupted the killing. Their weapons falling to the ground, they moved not an inch as if struck by unimaginable fear. True enough, even as K'awi watched the being, feelings of dread froze him on the spot despite the desire to escape with every fiber of his might. With a swipe of clawed digits, blood-red crescents wrought a momentary silence to the forest. Once the deadly blades tore through the hunters, all that remained were crimson streaks across the vegetation. The demonic presence did not turn K'awi into a similar spatter and to this day Zeno wondered what turn of events led to that fateful meeting.
Advancing towards the speech stricken youth, paralyzed both by terror and adrenaline having long taxed his diminutive muscles, he put a single finger under the boy's chin and straightened him up. "My child, do you not wish for a magnificent role in this never-ending cycle of life?" Heated breath reeking of smoldering ashes washed over K'awi's face, but now he was able to peer at the inhuman features which had been prior obscured. This revelation did not help. "Do you not wish you could have stopped these men yourself, nay their entire tribe from slaughtering your people? I can make it as such. All you must do is ask it of me." A devilish grin did the creature wear, for he knew K'awi had only one answer to what had been more a statement than a question.
K'awi, even in his young naivety, was not so foolish to assume an offer of absolute dominion did not possess a steep price. What did he have to lose, though? His tribe had been raised and captured by ones who would have him executed on the spot, his insignificant slate wiped clean without a single soul to even remember his name in the years to come. As if the innocence had been torn from K'awi, he mimicked the toothy snarl of a smirk that his opposite beamed. Whatever payment this demon wanted from K'awi could not have been worse than the alternative. Perhaps when that crossroad was marched he would obtain the ability to best his master. His body barely able to hold itself up of its own accord, he gasped the words that needed to be spoken. "Give me what I need."
"Then It is done." A guttural roar from the demon as he marked the boy as his property with a burning thumb pressed against his forehead. Exhausted, the once tribal boy collapsed in a heap at the base of the tree. From this point onward, K'awi ceased to be and Zeno would rise from the meek beginnings. The demon taught Zeno a plethora of talents and skills, allowing the growing man unfettered access to a world surpassing his prior primitive imagination. Reigning supreme in a simplistic era, there was a final test of sorts for Zeno to undergo. To Zeno's surprise, his demon master served an order of elder gods living in a ring of existence impossibly distant from his own. He was to be a vessel for their enigmatic intents, and in return, he lauded in their vile views, enabling him to tap into their abyssal well of power. Unable to turn back at the precipice he stood upon, there was but a sole option to take, as seemed to be the case for his entire life as of late.
Granted a unique gift of absolute consumption, his body became a prison for the souls he'd devour; his first victim, the demon who had allowed him to rise in the first place put up a nonexistent resistance. In his final moments, there was not a hint of regret, proclaiming that this had been his purpose all along.
Thus, Zeno was alone, but not truly, as the gods were eagerly awaiting him to fulfill an unspoken promise to deliver an ineffable bounty of unto them.
Theme Song: Danzig - Mother