Spreading the fun.

[X]

((((((Yeppers you leppers, Malar, the power hungry madman, hath returned =^_^=))))))

Well, Malar was a static god, for the most part, so he was always bound to make his way back to his roots. Those roots just happened to be hungry for conquest, so Malar was back to his power mongering ways.

The first step was, of course, to start gathering power. This was easy, of course, due to the plague. He had previously gathered up quite a few sick, twisted criminals, tore their souls out, bound all his favorite parts of said sick, twisted souls into a single demonic framework, then melted down the rest of the remain soul parts into raw soul energy, which he then poured into the newly made demon to fill it with power. This completed, he bound the demon into a strand of this virus, which he designed to mutate continuously, making it to where at least one of the mutations that will burst from every infect cell will be able to infect a person, and the bound demon will slowly corrupt each infected person's soul, subsequently breaking said soul apart into so many demons, which will ride the virus to new hosts, repeating the process innumerably.

Ahh, what a crop of evil this will be.

So taking both his personal strain of infections evil and his previous encounters with Silvia into account, he intended to make sure the entire region was thoroughly infected, and the thickening evil would make this place wholly Malar's.

[Tyme]

Mitsir wandered with a solemn expression drawn on his small five year old face. His black hair was clearly uncombed and he wore a combination of mismatched shoes and clothes. Everyone was preoccupied. Grandfather was nice enough, but he was always busy. Mitsir was sure he never pulled away from his dim desk. He'd like it if someone decided to give full attention to him for just a little while.

He'd come up with a notion that if he managed to decrease the towers of papers next to grandfather's desk, he'd be pleased with Mitsir for once. So he'd been wandering around and attempting to figure out where the god of pain was with the memories of trees and animals. It wasn't working out very well, because this was the first occasion he'd ever tried to purposefully use his power. He hated the look the poor creatures and children got when he placed his hand on them, even for a fraction of a second.

[X]

Malar didn't take long altering the strain, and when he finished and released it, he felt a familiar presence.

"Mitsir?"

This was rather quite unexpected, but Malar couldn't say he was surprised to see the young demi he had wanted as a ward wandering around alone. Freckles was most likely doing exactly what Malar said he would: Ignoring Mitsir in favor of his endless paper work.

Malar restrained a sigh, instead putting a friendly smile on his face as he walked over, and, as he saw what the child was doing, putting his godly might behind keeping his memories locked up tight.

Upon reaching the young demi, he crouched down so he'd be on eye level and in a kind tone of voice said,"You probably don't remember me, but you can just call me uncle Mal. How are things going for you? It's been too long."

[Tyme]

Mitsir's large brown eyes widened as he heard a voice that oculd have only come from a god. His mind stumbled through the list of gods and goddesses again. Was this really the god of pain that he'd been looking for? His mood brightened a bit and he cautiously creeped out from behind the old tree he had been searching through. A mop of hair fell into his eyes as he looked up at the god. He reminded Mitsir vaguely of Frackleth, but this god seemed much more....scary. Grandfather was mild all the time, even with the sort of work he did.

"Mmm...well.....,"Mitsir mumbled. He did remember. He could even vaguely remember his mother. His mind shuffled through a few memories before it found the right one. It was in mama's house, when Frackleth had first picked him up to take him home. This god had been there too. His brows wrinkled as he tried to remember why he'd been there. Yet he couldn't remember the words, because he hadn't known any words then. This memory was like the ones he had of his mother. They were silent and slow, unlike the ones he'd accquired later.

[X]

Malar laughed softly, sitting cross-legged in front of Mitsir and commenting,"Don't look too happy to see me. So, I guess you do remember me. No worries, I come in peace," There was a twinkle in Malar's eye as he said this, like he would never possibly think of harming little Mitsir,"I just happened to realize that I don't know you, and I'd like to remedy that."

Normally, a moderately old man sitting cross-legged in the middle of a walk-way would seem odd, but Malar appeared perfectly relaxed, at home even, in a way that made it seem perfectly rational.

"So, why are you here all by yourself? Frackeleth not paying attention to you?"

[Tyme]

"Err...okay...," Mitsir said, feeling an inner consciiousness telling him to stop acting foolishly and just quietly return back to grandfather. She remembered someone telling him that gods were dangerous people to talk to, even the ones who seemed kind. He swallowed his fears and returned a shy smile to Malar. It couldn't hurt, right?

"Grandfather is kind of busy. I think it's 'cause of the pla..the plage? Or is it the...," Mitsir frowned as he tried to remember what it was called. Something that started with pl and ended with e, but he wasn't quite sure what went in between all that.
"He said you did it. But how do you make a pluge? Is it hard?" Mitsir asked using the technique of sucking up to try and make sure the god didn't end up being so displeased he'd go and tell Frackleth what Mitsir was doing.