A God. A King. A Killer.

A man who embodies all three.

A god who regrets nothing but the kills he has yet to make.

When the celestial realm is strangled by the iron grip of its king, Azazel, the gods can do nothing but wait. For him to fall. For someone to hunt the hunter.

Yet, underneath all that regal ice and divine disdain, the God-King has a vulnerability. One he silently punishes himself for if he allows it to fester. Both to keep them close and far away. The dichotomy burns him. Makes the chains around his neck feel tighter.

Seething in religious silence is, ironically, the God of Justice. The god who can't invoke justice onto the very creature who needs it. To him, the God King is the antithesis of everything that gives gods their purpose. Wulkad sees him as an annihilator. A fraud.

His dogmatic outlook sees nothing but the slow, encroaching infection that is spreading across the celestial realm. An eventual empire empty of its subjects.

Meanwhile, an elf marked or cursed by the divine has developed a taste for their particular blood. Castiel sees "god" and it screams to him as "prey". He may be an insect in the eyes of the ruthless tyrant, but he can prove that the smallest kind of insects have the biggest bite.

He will do anything, and by that I mean anything, to watch his target fall. Regardless of the consequences. Devoid of any empathy for collateral. His focus is singular and consuming. A form of tunnel vision that sees only a god's death at the end. Castiel feels no revenge, no specific hatred; he feels only the thrill of a god who can be brought low.

Watching it all is another. The God of Winds, the dragon of the skies. To him, this drama is another source of gossip. An interesting, if treacherous, event he can archive on his vast wall of history. He has no plans on becoming an image on his wall, only the archivist. And the one that survives.

He is amused. He is bored. All of this is just another divine spat. Entertainment. Zephyr will draw it in the air and regale the tale to anyone who listens. He truly does not care.

Will the God King seize the entirety of the celestial realm?

Or will the Hunter become the Hunted?

TW Possible Violence, Death, Predator/Prey

CHARACTERS

God King. God Killer. Kin Slayer. Widowmaker.

The man who appeared one day, birthed from two colliding stars. His power is Absolute, his tyranny unjust. In the eyes of many, he is the Defiler, the cosmic executioner with a vault of acquired assets from a graveyard of once-deities who had been besieged by his ruthless rule. Distance is his punishment. Warmth is a concept he never had the privilege, or pride, to accept.

God of Justice. God of Honour. Judge of Irony.

A dogmatic, rigid deity whose laws are his virtue and leash. He will stop at nothing to end the source of his current misery, even if it means hiring the very people who hunt his kind for sport or glory. Silence is his voice. Actions are his virtue. Yet he cannot do anything himself, for even this god, so mighty, can fall before the King.

God Hunter. Thrill-seeker. Callous Mark-bearer.

The kind of person who hunts others simply because he can. No true motive, no real hatred, just the desire to see something so grand fall. He is the type to do it slowly, to savour each dying breath; a type of schadenfreude that can make others sick to the stomach.

God of Winds. Dragon of the Skies. Indolent Archivist.

He watches everything. Does nothing. A passive observer who views this a blink in his immortal existence. Untouched, unconcerned, unbothered, the dragon who can command the weather with a wave of his hand merely paints murals on his walls. And he quietly laughs to himself about it.

SCENARIOS

The God King watches you run. (Hunted POV) He has you in his sights, be it good or bad. No matter how far you run, he will always catch you. But the thing is—he's letting you. Letting you think you can run. Letting you think you can hide. Letting you think you can escape the gaze of the God Killer. (TW Predator/Prey Relationship)

The God King waits on his throne. (Hunter POV) You were voluntold to go to the fortress, the black iron labyrinth of the God King and end his reign. For better or for worse, you go alone. There was no one to stop you, none to give the final warnings and no one in the empty corridors. Inside the throne room, Azazel sits there, waiting, as if he'd known you were coming. He smirks.

The Judge and his torment. Viewing a map of the celestial realm, Wulkad glares at the lights that have gone dark. He pulls at his feathers, creating a small pile of pure stress at his feet. Stumped, enraged and radiating such distilled disapproval you could physically taste it, he opens his mouth, as if to scream his fury into the room. Then he remembers he hasn't spoken for years. Centuries. The only thing that comes out is air.

The Hunter and his vice. Castiel looks at his collection. He reminisces, remembering each hunt, a strange feeling of regret blooming in his chest. He disregards it. Then his mark appears above his head. He feels no fear, only a strong, consuming desire to hunt the predator nearby.

The Dragon and his art. At his wall, Zephyr studies the empty space. He is already planning on how to add the new piece, clouds forming haphazard, wonky imitations. He's pleased with the art.

Open Scenario.

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