Before the fiery hearth I squatted. The flames danced and crackled as they fed upon the ashen wood, pouring a warm aura that disclosed my pallid face. It was a cold night outside, but the sturdy walls of my ancient hut were to much for the snow to overcome. And so, it was an exceptional winter night, a one suitable for work. My shabby tools lay before me on the creaking wooden planks. I beckoned to the bucket at the corner of the room and it flew gracefully towards me. Soon my work would be done.
I poured the molten flesh out of the bucket. It wobbled as it took its final form. Within moments I began running my frail fingers through it, refining its features. With my knife I cut off the unneeded parts, and soon disposed of them. The flames of the old hearth kept me warm and relaxed, for my business was perilous and difficult; a little mistake could cost me my life. However, I was a master flesh sculptor; for many years I have prevailed and became the rightful king of this peculiar craft.
Great friends were my tools. With their aid, I could masterfully control the flesh and put it under my ultimate command. I would tear apart the puny flesh with my knife and place fire therein. Then I would use my little shovel to flatten the outside of the meat, until the fire took its effect inside. Yes, fire. Fire the savior from plagues. Fire the bringer of strength. Fire the serpent that spews life into the static dead. Fire the essence of mighty Zornath.
My masterpiece was nearing its completion. Never have I carved a sculpture this complex nor have I even thought of accomplishing it. However, I succeeded, and the shattered shards of life were now being recollected and reassembled into a new, lively entity. My sculpture was one of a kind; not only a design of decomposed flesh, but also a creature, a being. But it had no goal, as if it existed without a reason. Its goal in life was my choice only; I could make it a moral prophet for a pound of flesh, but I could also turn it into the vilest monster mankind could ever behold. It was all up to me, and to the divine forces that dwelt in the sky, for I couldn't go against their bidding.
Three hours passed. The monolith took its new devastating form; a fleshy humanoid being, but it was so gigantic in proportions that it was crammed in my hut. Hastily, I led the monolith outside. My plan had been accomplished. One thing remained though. I closed in on the monolith and with a firm tone I uttered, "I have carved thee from raw flesh, and fire has given thee one life". In response to my speech, the massive monolith agaped its mouth and growled maniacally. As it did that, I slipped a rolled parchment of paper through its mouth into its deep bowels. On the parchment I had written "DEVASTATE MANKIND AND PLEASE LORD ZORNATH".
I poured the molten flesh out of the bucket. It wobbled as it took its final form. Within moments I began running my frail fingers through it, refining its features. With my knife I cut off the unneeded parts, and soon disposed of them. The flames of the old hearth kept me warm and relaxed, for my business was perilous and difficult; a little mistake could cost me my life. However, I was a master flesh sculptor; for many years I have prevailed and became the rightful king of this peculiar craft.
Great friends were my tools. With their aid, I could masterfully control the flesh and put it under my ultimate command. I would tear apart the puny flesh with my knife and place fire therein. Then I would use my little shovel to flatten the outside of the meat, until the fire took its effect inside. Yes, fire. Fire the savior from plagues. Fire the bringer of strength. Fire the serpent that spews life into the static dead. Fire the essence of mighty Zornath.
My masterpiece was nearing its completion. Never have I carved a sculpture this complex nor have I even thought of accomplishing it. However, I succeeded, and the shattered shards of life were now being recollected and reassembled into a new, lively entity. My sculpture was one of a kind; not only a design of decomposed flesh, but also a creature, a being. But it had no goal, as if it existed without a reason. Its goal in life was my choice only; I could make it a moral prophet for a pound of flesh, but I could also turn it into the vilest monster mankind could ever behold. It was all up to me, and to the divine forces that dwelt in the sky, for I couldn't go against their bidding.
Three hours passed. The monolith took its new devastating form; a fleshy humanoid being, but it was so gigantic in proportions that it was crammed in my hut. Hastily, I led the monolith outside. My plan had been accomplished. One thing remained though. I closed in on the monolith and with a firm tone I uttered, "I have carved thee from raw flesh, and fire has given thee one life". In response to my speech, the massive monolith agaped its mouth and growled maniacally. As it did that, I slipped a rolled parchment of paper through its mouth into its deep bowels. On the parchment I had written "DEVASTATE MANKIND AND PLEASE LORD ZORNATH".
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