Thus Spake Zaranephilpal/MalfeanDeath

More on the Malfeans, as a little Story

"I saw my god for the first time in the place where she died.

I say 'my' god, but I suppose it's really the other way around. I belong to her with all that I am and all that I should not be.

I say 'she' when gender is laughably inadequate to describe her, but we were never meant to understand her kind. We weren't made to understand.

I say 'the place where she died,' and that at least is right. She died in the cavern that is more nightmare than rock; she died there while I watched and before and since. It's an ongoing thing with them. They die a lot. I don't mean to say they spend all that time dying, because that makes it sound like they are in a protracted and painful slide from life into death. That particular descent usually ends with death. With her, it doesn't. So she experiences death from the other side, a constant agony. Well, at least I have to imagine it hurts. I know it hurt when I was supposed to die.

And now I won't die. And she will. Forever. Until forever dies.

It's hard to describe her, because she doesn't really work like that. She is a pressure that defines the place in which she exists. Her will is law here, the laws of policy and dictate and such fundamental principles as gravity. That one surprised me a little the first time. At the center of her, every surface is down and every movement is falling. You think you're going to be sick, but you never quite are. To be sick would be a cessation, a cleansing expulsion. I find it ironic that anything defies cessation this close to the Void, but she is my god and I long ago surrendered hope of understanding her.

I do understand what she wants, though. I don't think I'm supposed to understand that part either, but part of her is part of me now, and that part understands. This understanding is what makes us special, my siblings and I. We understand the terrible purpose of our gods. We know.

It's very liberating, really. You wouldn't understand. You can't. It makes me sad for you. You will never know why. You will never understand why I'm going to kill the whole world.

Starting with you.

I saw my god for the first time in the place where she died.

She was beautiful."

--Neph

Can Malfeans Die (For Real This Time)

Nephilpal - 02/25/2004 16:35:40

I don't know whether the Malfeans can perish in any lasting way. If there were a method, I'd go with falling into the Mouth of Oblivion. Anything else is an exercise in futility. They've been killed as dead as they're going to get.

In my mind, it makes sense no matter which answer you pick, as the end result is the same. The Malfeans may be truly unkillable until the death of the world, in which case they are suicidally laboring toward their own extinction and release from pain through the only means at their disposal. That makes them scary and evil and invincible, because you can only hope to thwart their plans. In the end... well... there is the end. Always the end. They threaten eternally and what can you do?

There is a lot to be said for the eternal nemesis model. Maybe you can't kill the Neverborn, but perhaps you can put them to sleep or seal them in tombs or any number of other creative solutions for dealing with immortal cthulhoids.

Of course, turn that around...

What if they could die any time they wanted to? What if Oblivion is the cosmic drain trying to flush them out of existence and it will seal itself once they have all passed through its jaws? What if the only thing that keeps them going is spite? They don't want to murder the world for release. They want to kill it because they can't have it. They want to piss on the ashes before they go. Oblivion is waiting. They could fix the universe by letting go, but they won't because they're that mean.

Of course, if Oblivion can claim them... what an epic quest! Slay the unkillable... but when they pass, the Underworld will pass away. She who would destroy the Malfeans must be willing to pay the ultimate price of her own annihilation.

I like that second option a little better, even though my inner Abyssal cringes at the thought that the dread gods of death could perish.

--Neph

More Story (Yay!)

Nephilpal - 03/17/2004 11:34:51

We weren't supposed to die. How can you understand that, you in whom the seeds and certainty of death blossomed since you floated blissfully unaware in your mother's womb. You pathetic maggot, you crawling and insignificant worm of dust and motes! The treacherous gods themselves do not understand, for they are eternal only within the construct of our great work, embodied functions of its design.

We didn't imagine we could lose, and you cannot imagine our outrage. Seas boiled in our wrath and mountains toppled. You thought to strike us down. You thought to be rid of us forever. Fools. You will not forget. We won't let you. Somewhere between breath and endings, we endure in agony. Our hearts do not beat and no chorus of souls remains to glorify us. We are alone, but for our Whispers in the dark. We shall linger until the end of days, for days will end that shall not shine upon us. We shall linger until the end of time, for time itself is treacherous that weaves on without regard for its true masters. That which is ours, we shall shatter. Could I die, I would linger simply that I might savor the destruction of hope, light and life forever denied me. Perhaps I can't die. I don't know if any of us really know, or maybe we do and we aren't telling. Besides, that would ruin the ending of this most exquisite and final act, and we savor endings above all else.

Dream on that and tremble, oh mighty Exalt. Dream of hope and other foolishness, of greatness and other passing things, of sand flowing down the gullet of the hourglass. We wait as ever and evermore in the place where dreams die.

--Neph