Chthonia Snippet: "Mordecai Garr"

At the core of the infamous Umbral Domain, a land where most of the world’s inhuman sentients were native to, the ageless halls of the fortress-capital, Munduskia, were illuminated with a gloomy atmosphere. A lone, shrouded figure paced his way along one of the walkways, noting that the sources of the unusually dull lighting — gemstones which shone from atop every flameless torch lining the walls — would certainly need to be either recharged or replaced before the day’s end.

This individual went by the name “Mordecai Garr”, his personal role within the fortress being relatively unknown, except that he was seen by many to be an advisory of sorts within Munduskia’s labyrinthine dungeons. Even the entities who dwelt within the areas where he could most often be found knew little of him, with those few who occasionally did cross paths with the enigmatic recluse learning quickly that he was not a person concerned with social interaction.

This was why many heads turned when Mordecai passed through the halls of the upper levels, with every person and creature in his way clearing a path for him. Despite the vast mysteries tied to his identity, all within Munduskia was informed of at least one thing: whenever Mordecai was found outside of his chambers, it was either in his quest for supplies or at the behest of the Overlord.

In this case, it was the latter reason. Specifically, Mordecai had been summoned to the Fourth Throne, the domain just preceding that of where the Overlord resided. At the top of the mountain summit where the Munduskia fortress was built upon and throughout, a final hall led to a humble, outdoor temple; from here, one could take in the full 360 degree view of the surrounding lands so long as there was an absence of low-lying clouds, all due to the structure having no walls and being supported exclusively by a meager six pillars.

This was where Mordecai would enter the Fourth Throne, provided he was granted access to the means of transportation: a Gate tome, whether it be one linking to the Fourth Throne itself, or one of the other Thrones where he could then traverse from to get to his initial destination.

Fortunately, the timeless soul who inhabited this temple was already waiting for him.

”You’ve been expected, Mordecai,” a mature, feminine voice called out from beyond the visitor’s line of sight.

A suspiciously bovine leg stepped out from behind one of the pillars, and its owner was quick to follow in revealing herself. Her apparel was quite lacking, but her modesty was upheld for the most part due to the natural, bestial fur that cloaked her legs and abdominal region. It was her upper torso that was in need of concealment, however, since the fur only reached the base of the woman’s belly button before ceasing entirely, leaving her bountiful chest exposed to the elements.

And to Mordecai.

”Hmm...? Oh my, are you perhaps blushing from seeing the barren fruit of an old goat like me, handsome?” She teased. “Ah well, I suppose that it’s only natural... you are a male after all, and I myself am not exactly lacking in the looks department, even in these days~”

In actuality, Mordecai was not blushing. He couldn’t even if he had wanted to.

“Have you the tome of the Fourth Throne for me, Nolubael?”

The woman regarded his question with a look of mock hurt.

”Hum... it would do you no harm to at least humor me one of these rare instances, my dear Mordecai. It isn’t too often you come this far up the mountain.”

“I am in no desire to reciprocate your hollow banters,” he replied, a complete lack of harshness in his tone; if anything, his voice was level and calm as he spoke. “Nor am I interested in sacrificing either of our time on such endeavors when there are more important matters to attend to.”

A slender hand rose to comb a curtain of extended bangs out of the beast-woman’s face, the once-hidden silver eye joining the other in giving the visitor a dull glare. Her hanging patch of white hair was gently raked back and tucked behind a furry, elfish ear, just below one of the two massive ram’s horns crowning her head.

The woman was a baphomet, a demon beast belonging to one of the highest orders of rank from among the archfiend hierarchy. They were relatively few in number, but each held a substantial amount of authority, every one having enough cunning to lead many legions composed of fiendish and human followers alike. The goat-like entities not only had the unique charismatic prowess to unify such contrasting factions, but they also wielded more than enough power to single-handedly enforce their authority over them.

Mordecai was well aware of all this, and he reflected upon it when he noticed the rising agitation becoming increasingly evident within the baphomet’s demeanor.

“You truly are a most hurtful specimen, Garr,” she retorted, the usage of his surname revealing precisely how upset she was getting. “Just because you can’t get it up doesn’t mean you have to be such a prude.”

”I assure you that my inability to ‘get it up’ is completely irrelevant to my treatment of you, Nolubael,” Mordecai replied, his calm mannerism unwavering. “Regardless, I do apologize if my lack of empathy in this case has dampened your mood. Now then, the tome?”

There was a still moment of silence between the two as Mordecai awaited his answer. Finally, the bestial archfiend let out a deflated sigh.

”... I suppose that I have been holding you from your appointment long enough,” Nolubael admitted, her tone and expression adopting a more neutral demeanor. “The tome is upon its pedestal. You will find the gate key inside.”

But Mordecai remained where he stood. He was not asking for the tome’s location, for he knew where it was already.

”Do I have your permission to access it?”

“Oh?” The baphomet replied, a light chuckle escaping her. “It seems you do take my words to heart... why, I could have sworn you all but ignored my warnings in your last visit, despite the sound thrashing you received.”

Mordecai remembered, and it would be much too soon for him to ever forget.

”You may be the Overlord’s favorite little servant, but it seems I don’t need to remind you of your place, or to whom these tomes and relics belong. Very good...”

”Your point had been made, Nolubael,” Mordecai interrupted, “but again, I do have a summons to attend. If you would continue to delay me, then I will simply take another route—“

This time it was Mordecai’s turn to be cut off.

”Have you really no sense of humor?” The goat woman huffed, her agitation returning. “Very well. You have my permission to make use of the gate and its devices. Now go, prison warden, before you upset me further.”

”I thank you for your generosity, Nolubael.”

And with that, Mordecai turned to one of the nearby pillars, eyeing a humble pedestal where a large, hardcover book adorned in rune-esque patterns was set. Silver eyes followed his garbed form as he approached and opened the tome, the baphomet’s irritated expression softening as her countenance became evidently crestfallen.

”... Are you truly certain that you want to leave so soon?” She asked, her voice little more than a muttered inquiry. “Am I really that much of a bore?”

At this did Mordecai pause, ceasing his perusing while he visibly seemed to ponder her question. When the baphomet began to think he was second guessing himself, he instead straightened his posture and reached upwards.

Pearly white digits, completely devoid of flesh, showed themselves as the long sleeves of his cloak fell to reveal his boney hands; they took hold of the rim of his hood, and as he turned to look into Nolubael’s questioning gaze, the hollows of eyeless sockets were all that stared at her. He pulled the hood off his head, exposing a barren, human skull as the article fell along the spine of  bone that formed his neck.

Mordecai was a skeleton.

“You know what I am, and have always known, Nolubael,” the undead told her matter-of-factly. “Thus, how you always yearn to provoke me with fleshly temptations or attempt to solicit emotional attention from me is quite an anomaly. I am aware that an entity as knowledgeable as yourself would be more than informed in regards to the nature of my kind, and in turn I do find it curious as to why I would need to remind you of this at all... let alone every time we meet.”

“Yet, you could at least dedicate a mere fraction of the devotion you put into serving your master towards attempting to spare me a bit of my loneliness. Why, if you had lips I would have assumed long ago that you actively sucked the Overlord’s cock and scrotum with how actively allegiant you are to them.”

The ram-horned beast of a woman had been quick with her retort, but the remark had no visual effect upon the undead man.

”Are you implying that my loyalty is a negative trait?”

”Hardly,” Nolubael scoffed with a slight roll of her eyes. “I simply wish that you would broaden your attention to those around you, to actually consider how others feel for once.”

”I do not ‘feel’ as you do, Nolubael, nor as any other who exists among the living. And in regards to your personal feelings... they are, quite simply, none of my concern.”

The baphomet was close to fuming.

”I would have torn you asunder this instant had I actually assumed you were trying to insult me, and thought you to be capable of anything beyond pragmatism.”

”As unfortunate as it may seem, a pragmatic ideology is about all I am capable of, as I am,” said Mordecai, returning his hollow gaze upon the book lying open in front of him. “Perhaps you could coerce any of the local inhabitants into visiting you? I assume you have enough authority to enforce such mingling... but I myself have my priorities. Once again, my apologies. And good day.”

All was silent between the two after that, and Nolubael beheld the withered skeleton become enveloped within a shimmering curtain of distorted space, his shrouded garb fluttering a bit as the magical energies of the tome overwhelmed his entire being. Then, finally, Mordecai blinked out of existence, along with the aura of magic as he was transported into a different dimension.

Now alone once again, the white-haired baphomet let out a scowl, but before she could summon the will to make any form of outburst or verbal proclamation in her pent-up anger, her overall tension exhausted itself along with her frustration.

”Coerce others to visit me?” Nolubael practically echoed the skeleton’s suggestion before spitting in a newfound notion of disgust. “The fool. What’s the point if they don’t want to come willingly? It’s company that I want, not prisoners.”