"You are my greatest creation, o child of man. For I, the primordial of creation, have crafted thousands of gods. but you? I took a weak and mortal soul, and formed a true elder god."
"You, my child, are the youngest, and strongest of my divine children. Even I have lost count of my attempts, some even remaining sane. you though? you are sane, and still possess your humanity. I cannot tell if it was my doing, or if you simply ceased to care."
"Your senses were all but useless.
You could see, but couldn't tell form after but a few steps.
You could hear, but barely understood the words spoken without clarity.
You could taste, yet your tongue lay rotten yellow within your mouth.
You could smell, but everything was masked by your own scent.
You could feel, yet you suffered endless pain."
"Why then, o child of mine, did you value your world so dearly? The world that brought you such pain. You hated the world, yet still tried to bring out good in people of broken hearts. Maybe, you will entertain me, father of broken souls."
In the darkness, the blinding light, and nothingness that was the world around them, the shifting mound took form.
A single red eye looked at the being that could only be described as pain brought form.
"No" was the only reply given, before the shifting mound left, looking for a new form to take.