Unwilling Eldritch Horror of Fortune

The beast of Calamity flew into the expanding void of space with a new mission in mind, no, a new purpose in life. It had been created as a mere tool by the gods, nothing but a convenient slave that was bound to the whims of the fools that made it. Those creators didn’t care about how the Calamity felt, only that it could destroy the mortals every millennium or so due to some idiotic perceived slight or transgression.

They didn’t care how the beast would be painfully imprisoned each time it was done with its task, they didn’t care how horrible an existence it was to be forced underground for thousands of years at a time, nor did they care about the wants and needs of the beast. They had created it- no, he had a name, a purpose, an identity now. The old masters created him with the ability to destroy but never allowed him to do so unrestrained. He had been a glorified pet under their rule. They did not deserve his worship.

Now all of that had changed. He had met his new masters, and he could tell that they were different. They were stronger, better, and most important of all, they had severed the horrible connection between the Calamity and the old gods. They had given him a chance to prove his worth, to prove his loyalty, and that he deserved this second chance. All the Calamity had to do was what he was born to do: to bring ruin and destruction. But now, he could do so without the need to hold back.

Of course, he was weakened now, a lesson in discipline and a punishment for disobeying when he first emerged from his confinement, but he could already feel his old might returning as the Calamity flew closer and closer toward the darkness. He fed off the ambient energies escaping from the gaps in reality, and before long, he had returned to full power. No, he was stronger… with each lightning bolt that struck his scales, each stray jolt of radiation melding into his flesh, his body was filled with unparalleled might.

The Calamity laughed.

No, what the new masters did was not a punishment but a baptism! The tiny remnants of the master’s form, a small splinter of hair, blossomed as the eldritch energies from outside this tiny world nourished its growth. It spread inside his body, crawling and worming out to transform his entire being. His old weak flesh sloshed off, his pathetic metallic scales falling in lumps as new, fleshy tendrils of bloody flesh, sinew, and hair replaced them.

The black hairs covered and enveloped his wings, making them expand to almost twice their old length, and he could feel his jaws contort into a new monstrous shape. Beautiful porcelain-like growths blossomed on his head and he could feel his innards transform into something completely alien.

It felt marvelous! Even now he could feel his connection to the new masters strengthen with each passing moment. And with each passing moment, the Calamity grew.

But the beast didn’t allow the joy of his newfound purpose to cloud his judgment. He had a job to do before he could be allowed true freedom, to leave this tiny insignificant world and serve his masters better in the wider expanse.

He spent a long time in that all-encompassing darkness, waiting patiently for this body to fully morph, and once he was complete on the third day of incubation, the Calamity flew toward the greatest gathering of the mortals. It would be a far journey, one that would take him past the current continent, but the glorious End had already started to spread to those far-off regions, and it was finally time to prove his worth and bring sweet Calamity to the world.

* * *

The Holy City of Thrain stood strong against the encroaching Dusk. The city had been blessed to be situated far away from the origin of the destruction and had more time than the others to prepare for the inevitable confrontation. They had been able to take in the best fighters that survived the ruins of the other cities and, more importantly, had gathered the largest conclave of holy men and women this world had ever seen. They only had to hold off the dark for a few more days before they could complete the vital Holy Ritual that might just fix this situation.

They were hopeful still. Word had spread that other cities and bastions still held on and that the gods had not abandoned their servants in this most trying of times. Rumors of champions and heroes borne from other worlds and their legendary feats eased the souls of the citizens of Thrain, while priests of all denominations went around to soothe both body and mind. Yes, the people were hopeful.

The city’s defenders had fended off civil unrest easily enough, and even the waves of maddened and mutated beasts and bandits had been repelled with minimal losses. Yet despite these victories, the looming threat of extinction weighed heavily on everyone’s minds. It would only be a few more days until darkness reached their position.

“Gather up, men!” the garrison leader yelled.

The squad assigned to the front lines all obediently rushed around the old commander. The speed and ease of their movements told of their experience; these were all veterans of many long campaigns. Each soldier saluted when they saw the man in charge.

“Alright, the lot of you!” the commander continued, “We have reports from our scouts and diviners. Something big’s coming toward us, probably another swarm of the damn vermin being chased away from the dark.”

The men around him gripped their weapons tighter in anticipation of another long night of defense.

“Anything important to note, sir?” one of the sentries asked with a disciplined shout.

“The damned weather and gloom make proper intel gathering impossible, even with the sage’s scrying,” the commander muttered. “All we know is that the foe’s numbers are great; the size of the mob is almost a quarter of our city’s, so prepare for a long fight.”

That sobered some of them up. So far they had been repelling small hordes and groups of wild beasts and crazed citizens, never more than a few dozen individuals at any one point. Things have only gotten worse with the passing days, and the soldiers here all knew that this relative time of calm wouldn’t last. With the maddening approach of the supernatural storm, it was inevitable for panicked creatures of all shapes and sizes to attack anything in the way of their path of escape.

But this was the moment that they had trained for. Once the sentries were dismissed back into their assigned positions, each soldier checked and double-checked their equipment one last time and waited for the battle’s start.

They didn’t have to wait long.

“Incoming!” the commander shouted as the first set of beasts approached the walls. He had never seen such a frenzied moment before, it was as if these animals had lost all reason and didn’t even see the mighty stone wall that blocked their way. They charged in without heed of their own safety. The eternal darkness was still several miles away, but even now the men and women defending the city could feel the strange energies in the air.

“Archers and mages, ready up!” more shouts of command echoed, “Wait until they reach the ridge! Save artillery fire until we see the proper horde!”

“Yes sir!” shouts of confirmation reverberated along the walls and towers. Soon, the unmistakable sound of loosened bow strings and incantations filled the halls, all while the first signs of rain started to drizzle down across the battlefield.

Deep within the city, hidden in subterranean chambers were the priests, bishops, sages, and their gathered retinue. A solemn ritual of gargantuan proportion was well underway, and the few soldiers chosen to guard this most important of locations could only look on with stomachs knotted with worry.

This was it. This was the final moment. It was do or die. Everyone here knew that. This was the crucial ritual that the gods had instructed them to preform, and every person here would be heroes if it all went well. Just a few more moments and they could undo the fracturing world. They only had one job to do.

Tense minutes passed as the defense of the City of Thrain waged on. Back on the walls, supplies were shuttled, while personnel changed shifts as needed. It was a beautiful display of organization and military discipline, yet even though victory seemed so certain, the hearts of the defenders felt heavy. So far, only the scattering of beasts assaulted the walls but even half-blinded by the rain and gloom, the defenders of this holy bastion could feel the approach of something massive.

“The main force is coming!” the commander shouted, “Wait until we have visual confirmation! Don’t fire until we see their numbers!”

More shouts of affirmation met his voice and the artillery and mortar teams readied their weapons. The mages and mystics in reserve got to their assigned stations, and every single able-bodied individual watched in anticipation of the main battle to come. They were all ready for a long and grueling fight.

They didn’t get it.

“Commander…” one of the archers muttered in disbelief, almost dropping his bow as he saw something emerge from the dusk. Something massive. “Wh- what is that…?”

* * *

The Calamity approached the feeble human fortification and smiled, its porcelain face cracking as it did so. Raw muscle and sinew glistened underneath the smooth white surface as small hair-like tentacles wiggled underneath, anticipating the slaughter to come.

Calvin, or Cal for short - he had decided to make a true name for himself now, the very first decision that was truly his own - had engaged in a lot of contemplation during the few days it took him to fly here. He had initially devoted his time to understanding his new form, to think of how to utilize this strange new energy that coursed through his body, but what Cal devoted most of his time was his thoughts on his own existence.

As his body slowly integrated with his higher form of existence, his mind expanded just as rapidly. He understood just how limited he was prior to meeting the masters. He understood just how fragile this tiny pond he called home was, but most of all, he understood how much he hated his old slavers. They made him so incomplete and worthless, and he dreaded to think about what would have been his fate had the new masters not come.

Yes, Cal decided that he would get his revenge in due time. But first, he will make do with venting his anger onto the mortals of this putrid world, just as he was instructed to do.

The tiny mortal city quickly came into view, and he could already see the nervous expressions of the feeble defenders. They, in their woefully limited perception, thought that they were only fighting the tiny creatures that ran toward their walls. They still thought that they could oppose the new masters.

The mortal’s enthusiasm and cheer quickly turned to despair once Cal’s resplendent form left the shadows of the dark and came into view. His wings of ebony black spread out as he approached, and the squirming tendrils that made up the membrane thrashed out and enveloped the screaming defenders below. The beast opened his three massive maws and breathed out a rain of fine hairs, they shot out at supersonic speeds and impaled the feeble sentries below. Some tried to seek cover behind weak stone walls and barricades, but Cal’s projectiles cut through those fortifications as if they weren’t there at all.

Worse still, for the surviving defenders at least, the poor souls who were merely grazed by the hair fragments soon turned a sickly shade of violet before their bodies atrophied and died. Nothing was spared from the wrath of the Calamity, and that was before he even arrived at the city proper.

Cal even chuckled when he felt the pathetic retaliation of the mortals. Their crude rocks hurled by their catapults and trebuchets bounced harmlessly off his porcelain face, while the barrages of arcane magic dispersed before they could even touch his pulsating flesh. The defenders put up a noble defense, all things considered, but when his full form arrived in front of their walls, pure pandemonium enveloped the citizens.

Gone were the brave individuals manning the walls and towers. Commanders fled before giving out orders meant to save their own lives while others shoved their comrades and used them as shields. Gone was the discipline and military might these mortals had, and all they wanted now was to survive for but a few more moments.

The last attempts from the gathered people below, a beautiful barrier of pure faith that covered the entire city, were destroyed with a casual swipe of Cal’s forelimb. There would be no divine intervention now. There was only the coming Calamity and the looming Dusk.