Demonic Voice

What is the worms intention? Conflict? We are not agents of brute force, we bring you rot, and you will come to see the ill of your choice.

Become prince of worms with persistence, spread your strife among them.

Foolish simian maggot, the worms venture beyond their burrows and seek rot. I am her avatar, dreadful mistress.

This maggot seeks employ? Ascend to a herald of our blighted legion? Harvest the heads of your creators and liaison with me once again.

We speak in maggot tongue, take your women and sever their heads. Return to have her eye gaze upon your flesh, the queen of worms waits. We wait.

Bountiful, beautiful. Her hand will surely lay upon you from here on. Beauty is the master that makes you men slaves. The ugly will liberate.

Misery and the ugly is your natural state, you strive so hard for the sun, ignoring the black behind until it consumes you, as it does to all mortals

Service for what your being hates will see you spared the malice of it. Serve her throne and you will be eternal.

The corporeal was the king, reigned over flesh and mud all the same. In those mortal years my aid was sought after from Mer in the west.

Brothers bound by the vessel, as if there's anything else to relate to another. The way the EYE sees your visage is all that matters.

Mortals are so bound by what their eyes perceive, fornication and murder from what their eye loves or hates. And you see the ugly, and you must kill.

Did you see my art? A betrayal of mortal principle, desecrated women  before the sight of virile men. The hideous Orc dominating the haughty elf.

The impoverished erasing the rich, consuming the bodies of the mighty. All things that nature detests, no order, no purpose, thus misery.

This prose lambastes your naive ear? Your domain has mantled ours, the misery and despair of your realm has mirrored ours. Until it will become us.

Your little lord promised his walls as tribute, an amulet to seal our proposal. As is common with weak fleshed men, he betrayed us.

Reconciliation at the last moment has guaranteed an eternity for him within namira's embrace. She will rend his soul until the sum of this reality.

Inquisitive flesh puppet, the kalpa has a destiny of doom. Your world will fade, and chaos will fall upon oblivion once more.

With your clean.....fresh tower, the grim mother god will ensure survival into the next world, as this tower replaces the first on yours.

The deception will be complete, and when beings in the next world assemble to build the same constructs, the idea of of namira will be in their plans

The first tower they build will have our touch, and our power over reality will be supreme. All we know our pestilent touch.

Exposition is trite for your destiny remains the same, my decimation or yours, conflict is always the resolution of gods and kings. Let fate play...

Rash and impulsive the fickle beast becomes, The dragon and his mistress should have sent more suitable heralds. A waste of flesh.

So the married messengers assail us, nor despair or decay could halt the march of destiny. Will the story of your flesh end in tragedy or triumph?