Zeroth Velkyrr The Hill Dwarf

Hail, Pyronox Sulphyrion

In the oppressive gloom of his realm, where the sky wept with the glow of a blood-red moon, Vulcanix, once mighty and feared, now seethed with the burning agony of his downfall. The severing of his link to the mortal world, to Zeroth, had been a catastrophic blow, leaving him not just weakened but also humiliated. The relentless darkness of his kingdom, with its stunted trees clawing at the air like the hands of the damned, mirrored the turbulent storm within his heart. The castle that crowned the largest hill of this desolate land stood cold and silent—a forge turned fortress, a testament to his godly craft now a mausoleum of his current plight. His steps echoed in the cavernous halls, each footfall a reminder of the power he'd lost. The once mighty fires of the forges, capable of birthing creations of lethal beauty, now smoldered with just enough life to cast shadows that danced mockingly upon the walls. In this moment, as he stumbled into the expansive space of the main hall, Vulcanix could feel the very bones of his castle shuddering with him in fury.
The silence was deafening, the void left by the absence of his parasitic connection to Zeroth expanding within him like a gaping maw. Aeonis, that self-righteous arbiter, had not just severed him from his anchor but tossed him aside with contempt, casting him back into this barren wasteland of a realm without so much as a second glance. Vulcanix clenched his fists, the ember of rage in his chest flaring into an inferno. His bellow of wrath echoed through the halls, reverberating off the cold stone and through the empty valleys beyond his abode. "I will not be undone by this... insult!" he vowed, his voice rising like a tempest. "I am Vulcanix Sulphyrion, the eternal flame, the unbreakable metal! This... setback is but a moment in the forge of time. I will rise again!"
And rise he must, for the Fracture had presented an opportunity—a chance to rekindle his power from the chaos of colliding realms. Even now, he could sense the delicate threads of reality warping and weaving around his domain. He watched, his rage unabated, as the Fracture's energy ebbed and flowed, an unstable tide of potential that sparked with raw, primal power. His gaze turned to the slumbering forge, the heart of his domain, where once he shaped the fates of empires with his creations. Now, it would birth his vengeance. With a guttural incantation, Vulcanix's voice filled the hollow space, his words a cascade of power that stirred the dying coals into life. The forge roared, a maelstrom of shadow and molten rock, bending to the will of its master. From this chaotic dance of destruction and creation, a form began to take shape, a creature molded from the very essence of Vulcanix's fury and the volatile energy of the Fracture.
As the beast emerged, its form was grotesquely beautiful, a testament to the god's skill even in his weakened state. Humanoid, yet its skin flowed red and silver, akin to mythical lava. It possessed eyes like the void itself, dark grey sclera with bright orange irises gazing out with childlike wonder yet filled with a chaos that belied its nascent innocence. Vulcanix observed the creature, a semblance of pride cutting through the tempest of his anger. It was perfect—unpredictable, malleable, a force of nature that could grow into a tool of destruction or a shield against his enemies. But it was young, too young. It needed time to mature, to reach its devastating potential. Time within the realm of gods was a fickle thing, and Vulcanix knew there were ways to manipulate its flow. He would need an ally, a deity of time, to accelerate the years within his dark corner of existence, to allow his creation to flourish while the mortal realms crawled at their pitiful pace.
Drawing upon the last vestiges of his connection to the divine network, Vulcanix reached out across the fabric of reality, his mind piercing through the layers of existence to find one who could turn the hourglass in his favor. He called out to Kronus, an ancient god of time, with an offer—a bargain that would grant Kronus influence in the wake of the Fracture, in exchange for turning Vulcanix's realm into a cradle of rapid evolution. The silence that greeted Vulcanix's psionic plea was deafening, a stillness that spread through the realm like the calm before a storm. It was broken, not by Kronus, but by an unexpected presence that pierced the dimness of his realm with an uncanny, resonant chime. A green portal, elegant and laced with leafy vines, materialized out of the shadowed air, revealing the diminutive feminine form of a lich Vulcanix knew to be wary of.
"D-Delores? I wasn't exactly asking for your help, you know." Vulcanix stammered, trying to hold his composure. Her piercing blue gaze locked onto him, a playful smile dancing on her lips, and her red hair seemed to carry the light of a different sun, one foreign to this ashen landscape. "Vulcanix, the Great Forger, brought so low. What a sight," Delores mused, her voice melodious, carrying an undercurrent of power that made the god stiffen. "And yet, here you are, calling for time's favor. Kronus is not one for pity, but I... I find your situation... intriguing." Vulcanix bristled, not used to being in a position of weakness, especially not in front of such a whimsical yet fiercely intimidating being as Delores. But that steel-headed dwarf managed to humble him, and now, his choices were few. "I seek rapid growth for my creation," Vulcanix admitted grudgingly, gesturing towards the lava-born creature that watched curiously. "I seek to use it for vengeance on a mortal that dared strip me of my divine power."

Delores floated closer, examining the beast with an appraiser's eye. "A creature of lava and shadow, a child of chaos... A reflection of its creator. You seek to bend time, yet what you need, dear Forger, is a catalyst." A silence fell as Vulcanix contemplated her words. Delores was not a deity of time, but her capabilities were vast and unknown. If she could offer the solution he needed... "Then be my catalyst, Delores Von Pixieheart. Aid me, and let this creature mature to its full potential," he proposed, a new plan forming. "In return, I can offer you..." Delores raised a hand, silencing him. "Hush now, Vulcanix. I need no trinkets or promises of power. Consider this a... personal interest. I don't take kindly to bullies and thieves but be warned, I especially despise lies, and should I discover deceit, well..." Her eyes flashed a vivid swirling green as she chuckled, a reminder of her true nature beneath the doll-like facade. Vulcanix nodded, a wave of relief washing over him. "Of course. And should you ever need the services of my forge, it is yours." "Splendid!" Delores clapped her hands, the sound echoing through the desolation. "Let's begin, shall we?"
With a flourish, Delores began her incantation, a powerful bardic melody that wove through the realm, wrapping around the creature. The melody's cadence shifted, quicker, more urgent, and the creature began to grow, its form expanding and solidifying with each passing note. Vulcanix watched, awe mingling with a resurgence of ambition. If this was Delores's doing, perhaps there was hope yet. As the last notes of Delores's melody faded into the stagnant air, the creature before Vulcanix stood transformed. No longer a mere spawn of his anger, it now bore a resemblance to its creator — an imposing figure of dark stone and living flame, a testament to Vulcanix's dominion over lava and the shadow of his realm. Vulcanix was impressed at his creation's near-perfect appearance and was thankful it had an actual face, unlike Vulcanix whose face was just a flaming skull. Shifting closer to his creation, Vulcanix inspected him. The creature's height reached an imposing six feet and five inches, its eyes burning with a budding intelligence and curiosity. Its dark gray hair cascaded down in contrast to its smoldering form. "Hail, Pyronox Sulphyrion," Vulcanix commanded with a renewed sense of purpose. "Named for the fire of your creation and the dark realm you shall help me rule. Together, we shall forge a path back to power." Pyronox's eyes met Vulcanix's, a flicker of understanding passing between creator and creation. There was work to be done, but the creature's rapid growth had provided a potent ally in this realm of desolation. Delores then began to observe her handiwork, a slight frown marring her features. "Not quite the finished product I intended," she confessed with a graceful shrug. "Yet, Pyronox here stands on the cusp of maturity. A little more... seasoning, and he will be the mighty force you seek." Vulcanix's face remained impassive, yet within, irritation simmered. To be indebted to this diminutive lich-bard, to have his work half-finished... It was not the outcome he had desired. However, outwardly, he bowed his head in a semblance of gratitude. "Your efforts are appreciated, Delores. Pyronox shall indeed become a force to be reckoned with." Delores watched the exchange with interest, her head tilting slightly. "Keep your wits about you, Vulcanix," she warned, her voice tinged with humor. "Creatures of fire and shadow can be... unpredictable. I look forward to seeing what becomes of young Pyronox."
With a snap of her fingers, the portal from which she had entered reappeared, its verdant edges stark against the bleak landscape. "Do call if you need another favor, Vulcanix. For now, I shall leave you to your... fatherly duties." And with that, she stepped back through the portal, leaving Vulcanix with his creation, and a silent promise that echoed in the god's mind — a pact that bound them in a curious kinship, for better or for worse. Turning back to Pyronox, Vulcanix began the next step in his plan. "That ignorant fucking dwarf." He thought, the flames around his skull and in his forge flaring. "He's got no idea what's coming and when it does... He'll have hell to pay."