He had hunted from before time had begun. He had stalked through the dust of creation and laid waste to countless races as they emerged from the primordial mud of their pathetic spinning spheres, their first breath their last as He left world after world to rot behind Him. He had taken stars and moons as they danced through the cosmos and snuffed out the light in a billion billion galaxies. He was more than Death, more than mere un-life. He ate the souls of creation, sucking its life-force like marrow from a bone and no one, not even the dead were safe from Him. He had prowled every Heaven and Hell imaginable, feasting wherever He went, and even the blessed of Valhalla and Elysium could not hide from Him. He took their death as He had taken their life and in doing so erased them from creation for all eternity.
But as is the way of all things, He grew old. Even His might could not evade Entropy. He became bound by creation, dragged down closer to its filth and mire until He was no longer able to take and feed at will. The fall might have been gradual, but it was a fall nonetheless until He became dependent upon the fear and adulation of the clever monkeys He once ruled. He was a God, yes, but He had been so much more and although He could feed off them, He found that without them He receded into the Blackness Between and was all but lost from time.
Until the Hearld was sounded. Its dreadful call had echoed between realities, pulling Him back from the brink and once more towards the monkeys He so craved. And in the fog and the night He arrived. His first faithful, His Herald, had welcomed Him with a gift and the taste of her soul re-ignited His appetite. He gorged Himself in an orgy of heads, collecting them in the tunnels His Herald had found for Him. Above ground the fear spread and the smell of it drove Him wild with joyous hunger. These new monkeys might well be clever, but they felt the fear of Him that all the filthy lives He had snuffed out throughout time had done. They feared him and He grew strong on it.
Except… except not all the monkeys felt the fear. His lair had been defiled. His collection re-taken. The smell of the monkeys hung heavy, one a mutant and one moon-cursed. They would alert others and more would come to drive Him out. He could not allow it! He had only just begun! His appetite was not sated and He would have more heads to feast upon!
He called his decaying Herald to Him and gave His orders. He had to move, find a more suitable lair for His collection. As He watched His Herald shuffle away, He licked His lips as He realised He would need a new Herald soon…
To be continued…