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[Thraxas]

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Thraxas found the ritual in Umbra to be quite typical of the religious sort. He truly had no faith in such things. The gods, as he knew them to be, were quite capricious in their dealings, if not downright underhanded, and if there was such a thing as Oblivion, what would it care that creatures would, or would not, pay it any mind? Still, he went through the motions, as most do, without feeling anything close to what the ritual intended.

The main thing he enjoyed was the chance to see Ceinwyn again. He had learned quite abruptly that she had escaped from the clutches of his god, Oggaroth, when he was suddenly and viciously summoned, in painful teleportic fashion, into the god's own presence.

"Where is she?" Oggaroth demanded. His giganitc form reposed uneasily on the glistening, smooth, ebony surface of his gargantuan dais.

Thraxas frowned and assumed his demonic form. "Where is who?" he replied testily. "Your mother?"

Oggaroth laughed loudly. "Impetuous jokester! I enjoy hurting you," he bellowed as he pointed a single finger at his reluctant minion. A bolt of searing flame issued from it and connected with the flesh of Thraxas' red leathery chest. The pain was not unlike being soaked for a few minutes in a large, steaming, vat of red-hot lava after being hit by a massive bolt of lightning.

Recovering his senses from being flush with the floor, Thraxas stood up. Wisps of gray smoke twirled upward from all over his body. "Cur!" he shouted, gnashing his teeth. "I wish I could kill you!"


"I wish you would try," the god quipped. "Now, I ask again... where is she?"

Thraxas considered another smart word, but decided to temper it just a bit. "It might be helpful if you had the sense to tell me who she is?!"

"Ceinwyn. She has escaped me. Where did she go and how did she do it exactly?"

Thraxas looked around the black cavernous hall that was the throneroom of the god. All around, daemons of all kinds, and imps, stood watching them from a distance, within the shadows. Thraxas extended his arm behind him. "You have all these slaves, to send wherever you like on whatever plane you choose, and yet none of them can tell you where she went? Are they all on a holiday?"

Oggaroth frowned. "I want YOU to tell me!" he snarled. He clenched his fists.

That was not a good sign, Thraxas knew. He offered a small, brief, bow. "As you wish, great one," he mocked. He paused. "She is back in Sosaria; in Umbra, so I hear tell. How is it you do not know this?"

"That is none of your concern! Sosaria, you say?"

Thraxas nodded. "And no doubt happy to be home. Imagine her surprise when she discovered that the god I told her about; the one whom I told could HELP her and Umbra; the one who was her ALLY, was really nothing more than a pimp needing a new harem girl?"

Oggaroth snorted. "My plans for her were more than that, simpleton. I need you to get her back here."

Now Thraxas laughed out loud. "Plans? What plans?! You mean there is more to your program than chains and torture? There is nothing you can do to me to help you get her back here."

"You love her." Oggaroth stated it flatly, not to convince him.

Thraxas heard a twittering of laughter in the background. He growled and it grew quiet. "So what if I do? Not jealous, are we?"

"Go back and tell her it was a mistake; that I had important business elsewhere to attend before I could discuss the plan with her; that the chain episode was for her safety primarily. I am still very much interested in helping her and Umbra."

"You are, without doubt, THE biggest liar and sham of a god that ever was. She wouldn't believe anything you say, and I would doubt her sanity if she did. "

Oggaroth smiled. "Thank you... Now... do it. I will expect you to fulfill my wishes, but only after you have done a spot of penance for me. I find insubordination amusing, but it has its price, as you well know."

Thraxas started to speak but found himself teleported to some plane that he had never seen before. He was tiny... about the size, shape, and looks of a mouse. He was in a line with others just like him, and to one side there was a foreman-looking creature which was much bigger, smellier, and wore an eye-patch and earrings. He barked orders to all of them and when they didn't move fast enough to suit him, he lashed them with his whip. Thraxas, along with the others, were forced, day and night, to carry dainty pieces of cheese and chocolate drops for miles to give to a fat and very ugly fairy princess named Grizelda ensconced on a giant mushroom. She giggled perpetually and most annoyingly while reading a cheap romance novel. She would take the bits of food and gobble them down if she liked them, but would snort and toss them aside when she didn't. Thraxas did not find any of this amusing, but he knew it for what it was, and accepted it, because to protest invariably brought the foreman's lash, and the enjoyment of his deranged and perverted god... and he knew once Oggaroth grew bored with it he would be sent home.

And, after what seemed years, he was.