-OOC-
"As I gaze upon thee fairly, I abstain from contemplating life in your absence, the thought is crippling" said Malzorg blissfully. Of course, this bliss was a complete pretense he only kept up in the presence of others. Malzorg held eye-contact with his Snotling as it made him uncomfortable to look the minions of the Ascendants in the face, he didn't know what they understood, they were so.... unnerving, them and their mechanical expressions. Of course Malzorg had really been scolding the Snotling for relieving itself in his shoes, but when an uninvited Descendant had walked into the room, he had panicked and started reciting poetry a la bullshit.
A smile flickered upon the face of the young Snotling, however this could just as easily have been down to flatulence. There was no denying the innocent beauty which permeated through the personality of the Snotling, its simple-minded nature was often a blessing to many an owner. Not to Malzorg though, no, never to Malzorg. To Malzorg they were dastardly little imps, specializing in the art of twattery. However, to most they were welcome companions. Of course all of this was in Malzorg's head, his Snotling hadn't peed in his shoes on purposes, they had the cognitive capacity of an aggressive 1 year old, in the body of a diminutive goblin. As a matter of fact, on Malzorg's home planet they were known as Pygmy-goblins, the fashion accessories of the rich and powerful. Malzorg couldn't see why, now that he had one of his own. But this is a digression, the anger which was being displaced unto the innocent Snotling was really down to how paranoid he had been as of late. The last few months had been a wild ride for Malzorg to say the least. A better description would probably have been something to the tune of a trippy, surreal, multiverse-altering, crack mirage.
Malzorg hadn't always been this on-edge, it had all started when he had revived a dormant civilization of interdimensional Genghis Khans with space bridges. Malzorg could never remember what they were called, Quantum something or others. He did this all in one day out, whilst haphazardly traversing the jungles of Psi Algira 4 in search of help. He had crash landed on the jungle planet on his way back from his galaxy's casino planet. Broken in spirit and out of money, he had forgotten to refill his tank in his half-inebriated stupor. This would prove to be a determining factor in the imminent obliteration and enslavement of all kinds of deities spanning the multiverse.
Soon after having crash landed on the jungle planet of Psi Algira 4, amidst his anxiety and drunken confusion he took solace in the discovery of shelter; a grand cave which looked like it had been carved by the jungle itself to an almost surgical precision. Unfortunately for Malzorg, and even more unfortunately for all living organisms in the multiverse, it had.
Malzorg hadn't always gone by this name, truth be told, he found this name to be ridiculous. It was an amalgamation of every sci-fi and fantasy cliché he had ever heard, but it was the first thing which had popped into his head and it had potentially saved his life. His birth name was Tom Sheridan, he liked to see himself as the loveable misfit which everybody needed in their life. He would frequently get into shenanigans and was no stranger to the inside of a cell on Compound Aleph-090. In fact, he had been in trouble with the law so much - on account of his antics, that he acquired the nickname "The Hooligan of Harrisonburg". How he detested this nickname, he preferred "Captain Tom Sheridan", that's what he pretty much was, he had his own INTERGALACTIC VESSEL! Contrary to popular opinion it wasn't a space-dinghy, it was an ANGEL X35 and he would cruise the galaxy in it.
Back in the cave, Tom had quickly realized that this was no work of nature, it was quite visibly a spaceship. A gargantuan vessel, which had established itself as a part of the local ecosystem, it must have been sitting there for centuries, of not millennia. Cautiously, Tom tiptoed around the ship's various chambers and bays in search of essentials, everything looked almost untouched on the inside, a stark contrast to the vines coating the exterior of the vessel.
Sheridan must have only cleared a couple of rooms by the time he had reached what resembled some sort of grand, sleek yet ornate antechamber. It was adorned with etchings of planetary alignments and various constellations, none of which Tom recognized. However, this was not the room's main attraction. There were seven translucent, cylindrical pods which beckoned the eye. Floating around in some sort of viscous liquid were what looked like humanoids with significantly elongated foreheads. Initially, Sheridan had been startled by their presence, however he came to realize that they were in some sort of stasis. Keen to inspect them more closely, he took a few steps forward. Amongst other mistakes he made that day, Sheridan hadn't bothered to tie his laces after they had come undone, and as you can imagine this issue would present itself at the worst possible time. Mid-stride Sheridan's clumsy nature shone through as he tripped over his laces onto some kind of control center. At once, a multitude of buttons began to flash and as Sheridan had gotten himself off of the floor of the antechamber, he became aware that the fluid from the pods was draining. Not thirty seconds later, these figures were sprawled across the bottom of their pods with various tubes and wires coming out of them.
Then it started. The voices had begun to penetrate Sheridan's mind in an interrogative fashion. One voice had muttered something about having to make an emergency landing, and the necessity to go into immediate stasis. According to the numbers emblazoned across the pods, it had been nigh 50,000 years. Sheridan was about to express this information to these "Ascendants" as they had introduced themselves, but their first question was "Who are you?".
"Uhhhh.... Ummmm.... Mal-Zorg, Malzorg."
"The Devourer"
"Malzorg the devourer, yeah, I'm Malzorg the Devourer"
And so, the ensuing conversation was had in similar vein, with the Ascendants thanking "Malzorg" greatly and promising him great fortune and power in return for his co-operation in their rejuvenation.
Malzorg snapped out of his almost hypnotic trance upon the realization of a sharp pain in his shin, the Snotling had jabbed him with some sort of metal implement and Malzorg yelped in kind, kicking the Snotling. It was at this point that Malzorg had been escorted to the great conference room to discuss ideas of multiversal domination with the Ascendants. In short, at this assembly of the Ascendants, when the question was posed as to how their group could capture the all-powerful beings of countless universes which would all but inevitably oppose the Ascendants’ rule, Malzorg would suggest "Umm…A Big Cannon?" As they usually did, the Ascendants celebrated this magnificent wisdom and revered him once more.
This spur of the moment idea, resulted in the construction of not only "a big cannon", but a huge fucking cannon. This vast weapon of brobdingnagian proportion, almost planetary and in the shape of some kind of tuning fork, would later become: The Abrogator, abductor of gods. With this weapon in the hands of the Ascendants, they began their multiversal conquest by trapping the only people who could contest their reign in alternate dimension, known to few as the Asphodel Meadows. Where gods are rendered mortal.
One thing which the Ascendants didn't anticipate though, was that their reawakening would cause great interdimensional disturbances. Re-establishing their millennia old constructs; the Quantum Conduits, which would manifest themselves in various ways across countless universes…