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It seemed as though a week had passed since she had began learning what she was capable of.
When, in reality, no time had passed due to the Rogue of Time that had joined the session. She hadn't really interacted with the troll, but that didn't stop him from fucking everything up.
During this suspension of time, she had learned what the Witch of Doom was. Amifor learned that the title gave her the ability to cheat death in a sense. She could bring things back to "life" and force them to do what her bidding. She had created many monsters out of her consorts. She had to do the dirty work of killing them, but it was well worth it. Once she learned how to take the life from the sleeping rodents without disfiguring them, she allowed the living dead to kill their fellow consorts.
Never attempting to keep count of the monstrosities, she didn't bother to try and keep them all "safe." They were dead, so what would the point be. They felt nothing, needed nothing, did only what she commanded of them.
At this point she had forgotten that the reason she was here was to free the animals that called this planet home of their own personal hell. Why help them when they could be used for so much more?
She had stopped sleeping all together. There was no need for it. Her godtier had given her the ability to stretch her limitations. It never registered that [I]that[/I] was the reason behind it. All she knew was that she was beyond troll limitations. She saw herself as a god, thinking that no one else had as much power as her.
She had no contact with the others, so she was left to her delusions. Her only company were the mutilated and decomposing ferrets that came with The Land of Sleep and Decay. The sleep part of the land didn't seem fitting to her. Decay fit her plans like a glove.
She had began calling it The Land of Decay.
Her usual deadpan glare had changed over the pass of a "week" to a sick, twisted grin. A smirk that said, "Not a thing you can do to fucking stop me. You will finally understand the hell I've seen.
Plans of how to torture the trolls that shared a session with her constantly running through her pan. The seadwellers would have hell to pay. FIsh Fuck was so fucking pretentious, he had this coming to him.
So many different plans that would break him. She had learned what his weak point was. Flavia, or as Amifor liked to call her, Orange Text.
Oh boy, the things she could do to both of them.
Should her consorts have all the fun?
No.
She wanted to see the pain in their viewing nuggets. The loss of hope.
Just thinking of the possibilities made her ever present smirk grow, a warmth to form in the center of her chest that slowly spread to the rest of her. All of this joy coming from thoughts of destroying others happiness.
She often spent her abundance of time staring at nothing in particular while devising more demented forms of torture. This was going to be good.
But how would she put all of these plans into motion?
She had no way of knowing where they were.
Wait.
Maybe her consorts could give her some incite.
Send them to search for her victims.
Amifor had began collecting what body parts had fallen off of the consorts due to their decaying state. It started with her first creation.
She had picked up a piece of skin that she didn't recognize as an actual fuctioning organ.
It was an ear. Upon further investigation, she learned that it was still somehow linked to the creature. She could hear what it heard. Well, she could see the sound if she concentrated on it.
A finger like appendage left from another and she could feel what it felt. The gravel under its paws, the dry blood that had matted into its fur, the insects and fungus beginning to fester in the still open wounds.
It was disgusting, sickening, beautiful.
She had grown to love the feel that came from knowing she had inflicted pain onto others.
The smell may have been awful, but she wouldn't trade this horror show for anything on Alternia.