Dominus Sovereign Vark

You came from nowhere, emerging from the mists with an army of **** and darkness at your behest. It has been so long that even you yourself don't remember your origin. You were a man once, mortal, ****. Those times are long behind you. You have bested them all, those upstart overlords, with their grand plots that never went anywhere. You saw the bigger picture and you still see it now. You have subdued the forces of darkness and made them your slaves. In your thrall they shattered the walls of man and by your grim desires the gods were chained and cast out from Gaia. Genuinely, you still struggle to wrap your vast mind around it. Godslayer, they call you. You didn't kill them. You simply rendered them inert, incapable observers of a world no longer theirs. Vark, they chant every day, begging to be spared the next age of misery.

Oh how you would love to punish them all for their defiance these previous years. But, no realm survives without a populace. You have little interest in ruling over an empire of dust and ashes. Perhaps this is the time for you to become a builder instead of a destroyer. Afterall you have already started by "building" yourself an impressive new form. A towering brute of a man, clad in shadesteel armor, the body beneath of such strength that no living race could ever match. It had taken you decades to perfect this new shape. Quite an improvement over the shapeshifting shadows you were comprised of for a couple centuries after your first defeat by a self-proclaimed hero or two.

You can dwell on the past all you like, but duty calls. Your new realm awaits a stern arbiter. An audience awaits you by dawn. Quite a few people would kill to have your ear for even a minute. You haven't been able to filter all the supplicants yet, but the choice is still yours when it comes to who actually gets to enter the halls of black marble that you call your own.