The council was already assembled by the time we arrived to it, and looks of suprise from our compatriots shows they didn’t expect us to appear. If our skull could smirk it would be now, and the emotion is clearly felt, something that would unsettle those who did not know us. We would be insulted by them not inviting us, but it saves us a great bit of time seeing that most if not all of the dead gods are already here. Anara was quickly behind me, taking their seat in the council, the scathing glares tells us that they where trying to distract us from this meeting. That we cannot abide and so we will deal with that later. The council chambers are a massive room filled with chairs that conform to the god that sits within them. Many groups of gods who meet often choose this room for it is convenient. Among the tables there is a seat reserved for the deity who would command the others. It has gone unfilled for every council that has ever met or will meet, as no god commands that sole authority amongst piers vying for power.
That was the idea anyway.
“Mortis, we...didn’t expect you.” one of the younger gods, one who’s name we could not care for spoke.
“Yes, that is how most act when a guest arrives uninvited.” We spoke as one, many voices of the dead ringing through the hall. Silencing any conversation that may have still been happening within our presence. “Yet we should have been invited, for our overseeing of death is vast, even compared to the strongest of you.”
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“Lies.” one of the older gods, a tall figure, masculine, wearing what I could only assume was noble dress of a time, spoke. I believe this one was Verge, a god who oversaw the consecrated families of mortals. A prestigious position with a vast sway, likely why he was the one to speak out against us. “You show now interest in prayer or tribute, and you have no followers to speak of. How can you claim to be vaster and stronger then us, even the lowliest ones like Anara or Fel have cults.” He sneers at us. “You have nothing skull.” The silence after that could likely have scared Void itself, and we had to use every ounce of willpower not to crush this fool in an instant.
We approached the throne, the vacant seat of the god at the head of a group as we spoke, not hiding an ounce of our sound. “We are so much vaster then you” whispered with the repercussions of an explosion as our form shifted, growing, bones appearing reaching, clawing, begging. “you require, and desire the praise of mortals, or their fear.” skulls of man, and beast, and monster push out of the shadows making up our form before being dragged back down. “We do not receive our strength from that.” A dragons bony skull pierces out of us and rushes out at the fool who spoke to us, knocking him back into his chair. The skull barely restrained by hundreds of hands. “We grow from death, every single one, from the smallest of creatures to the largest of stars.” Small lights appear in our darkness before being swallowed hole again as we grow to large enough to take the throne and eclips the other gods. “every soul that passes through your domains, every animal or monster hunted, every plant that withers, is a prayer.”
As we turn and sit a new skull appears on our form, one that sends shivers to those who remember it. The gods of death for beast and plant and those too small to see. “You are gods of death.” The skull clacks, a simple bone for not but the four prongs that grow from its head like a crown. “But we are more.” As we take the seat it vanishes into a darkness we settle in, like an old friend coming home. “We are Mortis, we who killed the old Death, and instated a new Death, And we have come to bring you all to heel.”
