Thalir was the most powerful, he knew. Surely, the greatest, the sexiest, the most virile and handsome.
Also the loneliest.
While he, naturally, outdid his competition (in his own eyes), the oft named Gray God had found himself without a harem, friends, slaves, even worshippers. WORSHIPPERS!
It was sacrilege that all had forgotten him. Blasphemy most high. It would not stand, the giant mass of eyes and tentacles decided after long deliberation. Not at all.
Long and hard Thalir pondered a solution. A solution presented itself, but was too lowly for the great god of tentacles to even consider, and so, he pondered on, swimming through the red void.
Worshippers, he had none of. His godly powers were in a truly dismal state because of that.
Women, Thalir had none of. The same could be said for his bragging rights. Truly, this was suffering. On and on he pondered, trying to move past the limitations of the flesh and mind, desperately trying to conceive an easy solution.
None presented themselves. A disgrace, truly.
Finally, he was left with but one choice: To travel to worlds, one at a time, and forcibly recruit followers to join his ranks. It was simple, crudely so. But the Gray God did not have much choice.
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His greatest advantage was that other gods had mostly forgotten he existed, with a few exceptions. Tel'arara chased him even now, still furious beyond belief that he had enjoyed a night with her partner. Truly, the goddess of ever-burning spite was relentless, minor though she might be.
He would have to offer recompense, sooner or later. Preferably much later.
Clapping his multitude of eyes upon a distant globe, the giant mass of writhing tentacles soed towards it, his behemothic form slowly shrinking and changing, eyes closing and tentacles becoming less chaotic. Thalir burst through the atmosphere, plunging downward, fire forming around him from his rapid descent. Swerving hard to the right to avoid a very improper impalement upon a spire of stone that reached the heavens, he waved a tentacle at another great beast that sat perched atop and flew past, heading for the ground below.
He struck a mountainside and bounced off, struck again and skidded all the way down, taking most of it with him, pointedly ignoring some angry dwarves bellowing at him as he accidently took a tower or two with him.
Again, Thalir bounced, sailing over a small desert, and towards a wild and overgrown forest, still shrinking himself at a massive speed to avoid having a tree lodged up his nutrient-expulsion orifice. Truly, what a hard task that would be, dislodging that.
He landed with a deafening boom, followed by a small shockwaves, bouncing through several clearing, before being thoroughly splattered against a tree.
Peeling himself off and dropping to the ground, the small god blurbled and a warbled:
"Where the women at?"
His priorities, he had in order. Truly. He had tasks inind, and a clear order in which to fulfill them. Shaking radiant dust off of his form , he wriggled, stretched and began to bounce his way deeper into the forest.
He was coming, one way or another.