Azrueth, the Unworthy and The 7th Calamity

"I, Azrueth, the unworthy, pay my greetings to the 7th Calamity!"

The thick voice echoed through the throne room, bouncing off the walls and rapidly rang forth into the distance until it reached a space where it suddenly faded away into nothingness, seemingly absorbed by the intense darkness.

SILENCE.

It was what followed after the greetings, and even though no reply came, the kneeling Azrueth slowly rose to its feet and took measured steps forward.

The path to the throne was no mere corridor; if anything, it was a descent.

A slow, agonizing plunge into deeper darkness, where each step seemed to strip away something intangible from him.

Even though his massive form held immense power beneath his feet, his footsteps refused to make a sound, as if in fear of whatever horror lay ahead in the distance.

Around him were with twisted carvings lining the hallway like knights.