Cormac sat in the grand hall of his domain, a massive table stretching out before him, laden with heaping mounds of food. There was everything—roasted meats, towering loaves of bread, exotic fruits dripping with juices, and enough drink to fill a river. His grotesque shades, their forms twisted into hulking Orcs and snorting Pigmen, shuffled about the room, bringing more and more food to their master, their heavy footsteps thudding against the stone floor.
"More," Cormac demanded, his voice a deep, booming growl. He stuffed a thick slab of meat into his mouth, barely bothering to chew before swallowing it whole. "I want more!"
A shade scurried forward, a towering Orc with tusks jutting from its misshapen jaw. It held a massive tankard filled to the brim with frothy ale, offering it to Cormac with trembling hands. Without so much as a glance, Cormac grabbed the tankard, upending it and letting the alcohol cascade down his throat.
"Not enough," he muttered, slamming the empty tankard down onto the table with a deafening crash. "There's never enough."
Around him, the shades worked tirelessly, hauling massive platters of food and pitchers of drink to the table. The hall reeked of grease and stale ale, the air heavy with the stench of overindulgence. But Cormac didn't care. He barely noticed anything beyond his insatiable hunger, his endless need to consume.
He grabbed a loaf of bread, ripping it apart with his bare hands and shoving it into his mouth. His stomach groaned in protest, already swollen from the feast, but Cormac ignored it. He couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop. Not until he had consumed it all.
"More," he growled again, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. His lips curled into a sneer as he glanced around the room, watching as his shades brought more food to the table.
But even as the food piled higher, even as the tankards were refilled, it wasn't enough.
"It's never enough," Cormac grumbled, reaching for a roasted leg of meat. He tore into it with his teeth, grease dribbling down his chin. "The others… they always have more."
His thoughts turned dark as he considered the rest of the Sinister 7. They were probably gorging themselves, too. Junna was likely basking in the pleasure of her own twisted desires, while Cusi hoarded wealth beyond imagination. And what did Cormac have?
"Not enough," he muttered again, his teeth grinding together as he swallowed another mouthful of food. "Never enough."
His Orc and Pigmen shades snorted and grunted as they brought more food and drink, their grotesque forms grotesque reflections of Cormac's own insatiable appetite. They were loyal, mindless servants, created to serve his every whim, but even they couldn't quell the gnawing hunger in his belly.
"Those fools," he growled, his voice filled with bitterness. "They think they're better than me. They think they have more. But they don't. I'll show them."
He grabbed another tankard, this one filled with a potent, fiery liquor, and downed it in one gulp. The alcohol burned as it slid down his throat, but Cormac welcomed the pain. It was a reminder that he was still alive, still strong, still hungry.
"And when I'm done," he continued, his voice rising, "when I've consumed everything in this world, I'll eat Tel-Nu himself!"
The thought brought a twisted smile to Cormac's lips. Tel-Nu thought he was some kind of god, a being of unimaginable power. But in the end, he was just another morsel waiting to be devoured. And Cormac would be the one to do it.
He laughed, a deep, booming sound that echoed through the hall. His shades glanced nervously at each other, unsure whether their master's laughter was a good sign or not. But they continued their work, piling more food onto the table, filling more tankards with drink.
"More," Cormac demanded, slamming his fist onto the table, sending plates and tankards clattering to the floor. "I need more!"
The shades hurried to comply, bringing even more platters of food, even more drink. But it still wasn't enough.
"It'll never be enough," he muttered, grabbing a hunk of bread and shoving it into his mouth. "Not until I've consumed it all. Not until I've taken what's mine."
His thoughts returned to the other members of the Sinister 7. Junna, with her lust for domination. Cusi, with his insatiable greed. Kira, with her envy. They all had their vices, their desires. But none of them could match Cormac's hunger. None of them understood the endless, gnawing need to consume, to devour, to take and take until there was nothing left.
"I'll eat this world," he growled, his eyes gleaming with malice. "I'll eat Tel-Nu. I'll consume it all. And then…"
He paused, his lips curling into a cruel smile.
"And then I'll consume the universe."
It was a grand plan, one that filled Cormac with twisted satisfaction. The others didn't know it yet, but they were all just pawns in his game. They thought they were in control, that they were working together to defeat Tel-Nu. But Cormac had no intention of sharing the spoils of victory. Not with them. Not with anyone.
"I deserve it all," he thought, his fists clenching around a tankard. "More food. More power. More everything."
He raised the tankard to his lips, taking a long, deep drink, the alcohol spilling over the sides and drenching his already stained shirt. His eyes gleamed with hunger, his mind racing with thoughts of how he would consume everything in his path.
"Let them fight Tel-Nu first," he thought, his lips curling into a sneer. "Let them wear him down. And when the time comes, I'll take what's mine."
His stomach groaned in protest, but Cormac ignored it, shoving another handful of food into his mouth.
"They all think they're stronger than me," he muttered, "but they're wrong. I'll be the last one standing. I'll be the one who devours this world."
The Orcs and Pigmen scurried around him, their grotesque forms a reflection of Cormac's insatiable appetite. They worked tirelessly, bringing more and more food to their master, but even they knew it would never be enough.
"More," Cormac growled, his eyes narrowing. "I need more."
The hunger was endless, a bottomless pit that could never be filled. And that was fine by Cormac. It just meant there was more for him to consume.
"I'll eat it all," he whispered, his voice filled with malice. "And no one will stop me. Not Tel-Nu. Not the others. No one."
He grabbed another tankard, raising it to his lips, his eyes gleaming with the twisted satisfaction of knowing that, one way or another, he would get what he wanted.
"I'll eat this world," he muttered, "and everything in it."