@skysaunter steps into the Anthem Anatheme,
The planet is frigid. A simple enough statement, one that felt true enough where no further elaboration was required. Yet, life found a way, it thrived even, blossomed into the settlements carved like ghastly wounds across the vast expanse of an endless blinding white.
Some might call it a glimmer of hope, others saw opportunity. Others, such as the foreign serpent which had traveled on starlit wings, a jump between the very cosmos until they blurred into a single arrow shaft of direction. Spacial travel was one walk of a doorway into another and with no destination in mind, no great Light to call upon their devious inhibitions it was a true, unquestionable, shot into the dark.
Now there was indeed the aspect of what unknowns might come to face them now that they had gone such a great distance to escape the culling hands of the Lights they sought to manipulate, but those dangers came with the territory, and an Ahamakra was nothing if not able to adapt. First contact was always a sticky, ravenous mess. No way to hide, not until a feast, face first into conflict often foretold the presence of these great dragons.
Larger than life and most space fairing craft it is a massacre; dead lay strewn, the living scattered and afraid. But, there again, is a glimmer of hope. A spotlight amongst carnage of a soul begging for the mercy out of such a towering monster. What a thoughtful gift upon themselves to have a so very willing participant. The heavy bone plating protecting tender flesh beneath folds out and their many grotesque eyes gaze down, feasting before the meal on that which would give them the strength for far worse to come.
Let me live, let me leave.
YOUR WISH IS GRANTED, O' FEARFUL MINE.
Their body falls, and, in its place?..
Weeks pass by with the faint resonance of something quite unnatural blanketing the landscape. It was no challenge to prey upon the soft underside of those who had been isolated, forsaken. Words whispered across small settlements of a lone figure which could be found traversing the spaces in between, unprepared, seemingly lost to the whipping winds and deathly cold. But, if one were bold or perhaps so very desperate, the mirage would stop and listen. However the phantom of a long dead soul was not one to offer wisdom, or even give thanks if granted safe passage. The very few who made return subsequent an encounter spoke of their greatest desires having taken shape right before their eyes. All good and well, until it wasn't.
One who may be called the head of a settlement went out with the intent purpose of finding this strange being for themselves, not for any malicious cause, but to settle a debate. Nothing but the tales of dehydrated, starved, smugglers who wanted something tangible to place their insanity upon. When they found the singular figure's silhouette against the back drop of an age old crashed hull, the stories were far less exaggerated than they had assumed.
Their wants, numerous and bountiful, spilled forth like the guts of a fresh hunt. Riches and power, an end to those that wanted to steal and kill, the idea of prosperity. What a foolish lust for opulence. For everything that the ringleader wanted, would come in time, and with a heavy price for each subsequent prize. Riches rained down in form of a stray cargo ship crashed nearly upon their doorstep, the occupants suffering from an inescapable sickness that would take the lives of many. Those who did survive were not long to last.
Despite being surrounded by wealth, and the power over the few, with no one to contest their word, the bargain had been complete. A far cry from the intentions but a hearty feast for the serpent which hid right before their very eyes. And thus the beast laughed, as accusations flew through the air for its treachery despite following every single desire as proclaimed. Anger and resentment drench the air as if made into a palpable poison but the stranger held no dismay. All their power and willingness to flaunt it meant nothing.
And by a slip of many tongues another deal is struck, marked by a sharp echoing laugh.
I should have never sought you out, if I could, I would take it all back and never look back!
IF YOU COULD? YOU CAN. JUST. MAKE. IT. SO. O' BEGGAR MINE.
A long pause sets before them, trembling words, and those who remain no longer exist. Every living thing which had ever met, heard, or known of those within that smuggling settlement no longer have memory to draw from. It ripples outwards like the shattering of crystal still water, all encompassing, a swell that leaves the monster fat with delicious ill fated mirth.
Not even the buildings which once made the circular clearing look lived in, remain. Greenery dominates the stretch of safety, foreign wildlife run amok. What reason did any have now to visit? Perhaps to claim the seemingly free locale for themselves, a slice of life away from what chaos had been plunged into the heart of the galaxy. In its center the faux form of a lone smuggler rests, sprawled across their back, content for now to rest upon the rays of warm suns.
