The Marut moved with slow, inexorable purpose. Too long had this one defied the laws of the multiverse. Too long had this one lingered on and not suffered the chalk white hand of death itself to close their eyes as all beings must eventually. Years had stretched to decades, decades to centuries, and long centuries to millennia and still had this one not fallen into dust, but lingered on by will and unholy sorcery. But laws were laws, laws were everything, and all must bow before them. The Marut walked on.
The characters involved here may be familiar to those reading my storyhour, and this story takes place seperate from that. Some of the same characters, but a wholly different timeline/continuity, especially with respect to events in Carceri.
This takes place as an aside to the continuity of my storyhour, largely as an examination of things hinted at but never fully detailed and explored. However you can assume that the events of the story happened within the context of that storyhour's plot. Enjoy.
This was originally part of a larger piece that gave an overview of the Waste as a whole, but I'm not sure if that will ever see light, so here's the opening flavor text/fiction for it.“Oy, yer a new one dearie. Strug’lin mightily, a fat price ye’ll fetch from the Baatezu, or the Tanar’ri, whot ee’r getcha firs’…”
This was originally part of a larger piece that gave an overview of Gehenna as a whole, but I'm not sure if that will ever see light, so here's the opening flavor text/fiction for it.“Why can’t I move? I can’t see anything else either…”