@cmdrace liked [+] for a deity verse starter.
He can feel it, the agony of his followers. He stares up at the stars that dot the darkness of his realm. Many blink out, the dreaming minds of his followers going beyond his reach. The dead do not dream, do not have nightmares. They are now beyond his reach and each lost wrenches at his heart. The God of Fear feels himself weaken, feels his power diminish. For a time, he felt unstoppable, powerful. His Harbingers had grown strong again, preaching the wonders of the freedom his emergence would bring.
They spread fear and hope in equal measure. Telling many of how restricting this world is, how trapped they are and speaking of the great joy that will come when the God of Discord is released to break the chains, to bring his chaotic freedom. This bolstered their numbers and in turn gave him strength. Enough strength that, for a brief time, the dark god felt he could shatter the veil between his Nightmare realm and the realm of mortals. For a moment, he tasted his own freedom, and it was sweet, but alas such joy could not last for this deity.
The other gods did as they always do. They incited their followers into a holy war. Rising together to combat the threat of his freedom, to destroy his followers and leave him caged. How they all fear him. How they all believe he will destroy all if given the chance. Given the pain and anger swirling within him, perhaps he will. Perhaps one day he will give into his darker nature, and perhaps he will not let his beloved sister stop him.
He feels another life pass from his grip and golden eyes close, his heart breaking as they burn. He can do nothing, trapped here in the nightmare. He waits for one to summon him, to bring him to the mortal realm, but any he sends the thought to are killed before the chance comes. His effigies and statues destroyed in this conflagration. Again, he is helpless. A god unable to save his followers. How any can continue to believe in him is a surprise.
Then he feels it, the tug at his heart. A summon that goes through. He turns, the dark smoke of his realm twisting into an obsidian mirror. He doesn’t check the scene beyond, the god desperate to do something, anything for these beings who believe in him, who have earned his love. He steps through, stepping out of an obsidian portal that swirls from the shatter and bloody remains of a small idol crafted in his likeness. When he emerges, he is within a sea of flame.
The light burns his golden eyes, the once glowing orbs dull with his weakness. The smoke that swirls from the cracks in his grey skin is wispy and less. He is still terrifying, with his obsidian hair and wicked claws, but his presence doesn’t impose as it should. He has experienced too much loss too quickly. He casts his gaze about, despair touching his features when he sees burned corpses among the flames.
“M-my Lord,” says a weak, raspy voice beside him. “You have come.”
Gaze drops to the woman adorned in dark robes kneeling in the ash beside him. A priestess and one of his Harbingers. There is soot in her hair and searing on her robe. He kneels beside her, a clawed hand unexpectedly gentle and his voice kind, despite his monstrous appearance.
“Rest, child, you have earned your place in the Ever Nightmare,” he says, promising an afterlife that doesn’t exist.
“I … I am sorry, my lord. H-he insisted,” she continues, gaze looking past Law.
The dark god frowns, his hands moving from the woman. He turns to see a figure standing amongst the destruction. He can feel the fire in him, the power. Another god and the destroyer of this sect of his followers. Rage flashes in Law’s golden eyes. He snarls, bearing pointed obsidian teeth. He may not be as strong as he was, but he will not forgive this destruction so easily.