Role

Chapter 1

Kharghurln sat upon the Throne in the Palace, and pondered her long and
violent life. She thought of the souls claimed for her own, of the lessons
she taught her allies and enemies alike, of strength, power, pain, agony,
but mostly of Death. Death was her reason for living. Granting the Cleansing
of Death to her enemies made, so she believed, them stronger. And in turn,
strong enemies to fight made her stronger. So, she pondered, if Death made
those who experienced it stronger, what would the final Death do? Who
would benefit from hers? For she knew it was close. It had to be. She
had lived almost six hundred years, an amazing lifespan for one of her
race. And it had been a good life.

The Empire would benefit. She was but a shadow of her former self, and she
knew it, though none dared tell her to her face (including her enemies, who
still did her the honor of fighting her four to her one on occasion). She
was powerful, just not as powerful as in days past. So it was time, time
for new leadership to take the reigns of her Empire, time for another to
perhaps see Darkness and Order spread throughout Thera.

Her enemies would benefit, in their minds at least, for they wouldn't feed
bits and pieces of their souls to her. Though there would be others that
would come after her to continue her teachings. Death came for all, in many
different forms, all designed to Cleanse.

She would benefit. She knew she would go to Hell for her actions, to live
there for all eternity. She knew as well that she would inflict pain and
suffering upon countless souls, once those who ruled hell realized that
whatever tortures they had in store for her would only make her stronger. An
eternity of suffering for Khar? She would become so powerful that Satan
itself would fall before her might, should they choose that path. She hoped
for the Seventh Circle. Though she had never been there, she had heard from
others who had that there was a nice view. And a cave with a window and a
cheap desk she could prop her feet upon.

So, as her body began to betray her, as the blood started to flow a bit
faster and staunch a bit slower, as the pains from a lifetime of combat
began to intensify (a feeling she has come to cherish), she knew that it
had all been worth it.

The only thing she would miss was the statue. She couldn't stop thinking
about the statue, one she had seen in a picture book in the Imperial Library
ages ago. It was of a mighty warrior, and it stood atop two towers and
straddled a grand harbor, one arm raised high above its head, holding a
lantern. She secretly wanted a statue of herself, erected at the entrance to
the Imperial Lands, one massive foot atop each guard tower, one arm raised
high, holding an Unholy Scourge of Bone. And bearing an inscription: Here
stands Empress Kharghurln Akn'trar. Look upon her works, O ye mighty, and
Despair.

She drifted off to sleep atop the Imperial Throne, a smile upon her aged
and wrinkled face.