Zorthax
Zorthax looks unhappy. He looks very unhappy.
There is acombination of tears and rage in his eyes that makes him look
as if he could kill somebody. And it certainly sounds as if he'd
like to as he mutters to himself.
-Absolute destruction! Absolute! Total, complete
annihilation! Traceless erasure! Utter undoing!
He is trembling, partly with rage, partly with sadness,
partly with fear of himself and what he knows he is going to do next.
-Not one, not one believes in me! They don't even
believe what I am, none the less what I can do! I will show them,
I will-
The tears roll off his frizzy white beard, his pointy
hat sways absurdly with the wracking sobs. As ridiculous and pitiful
as he looks he is still a rather imposing presence. It is evident
that he held a great deal of power at one point, and he may still have
some. But he does indeed look foolish as he howls with tears spraying
from his shaggy beard and eyebrows
-destroy it ALL! THOROUGH PRECISE ELIMINATION!
He is obviously struggling toward the huge, black, leather-bound
tome on the dais in the depression at the center of the room, but the emotions
tearing through him have his own body betraying him. He loses his
balance, stumbles, falss, struggles to his feet, drags himself a few more
feet until his knees give way beneath him as every joint in his body fails
in another spastic sob. In a few seconds he recovers enough to crawl
and does so.
-NO AMOUNT OF DISBELIEF WILL SAVE YOU!
He shakes his fist at the empty air
-NOT ONE INFINITY OF SILVER-TONGUED LIES CAN STOP IT!
CAN"T STOP THIS... Can't Stop This... can't stop this...
falling on his face as his own motion betrays his precarious
balance, but he raves on
-can'tstopitcantstopitcantstopit-
and crawls on, he is very near the book now, and making
a noticeable effort with nearly every crawl forward to get at least back
to his knees, but the depth of his own feelings continuously wrench control
of his body from him again and again. Still, he approaches the dais,
if fitfully.
-This is it. That is all. It is done!
He has made it to the base of the pedestal and begins
uncontrollably banging his shoulder against it as he tries to drag himself
up its side. Then he has a grip on the edge of it and is holding
himself over the book, conscientiously dripping his tears away from its
flesh-bound cover.
-Disappear in your sacrilege infidels!
He pulls the front cover open and takes a deep breath.
He has regained some control, but no composure to speak of, and he is maintaining
a twisted posture across the dais yet not in any jeapordy of dripping on
the tome in the center of it whose pages are slowly turning of their own
accord.
-you know the one. you know what's appropriate.
show it me. let me un leash It NOW!
It starts as a whisper and ends in a walloping yell.
Now he has truly begun regaining some composure, the tears are now a slow
trickle and his breathing sounds like it might become regular again.
The pages stop turning as the last echoes of his last shout resound away
into the cold stones. He actually chuckles a little. And then
he begins to read.
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