Voltaire "Normans"

Created by the UnderRealm’s supreme ruler, Voltaire was made to appear more “human” in an attempt to go unnoticed in the MidRealm, where all of the humans dwelled. The creator cared not for raising this spawn by himself, so he had his advisors choose the home of someone whos lived in the MidRealm at one point. The home where Voltaire was raised held three men, each one agreeing with each other that the current Ruler’s ways of torturing those who were below him was awful and hell-like. That’s how it’s been for centuries so they’ve heard. Whenever the “Lord” of the realm wanted anything done, he would result to hurting those around him, whether it be by physically sending guards to meet demands, or by emotionally tormenting his victim with their deepest fears. As much as the three men tried to teach Voltaire how to be kind and do things honestly and fairly, he barely listened and found himself growing to be exactly what his “master” wanted.

When he had reached adulthood, the Ruler’s guards took him back from his “foster home” and began to get to work, doing his master’s bidding. In the MidRealm, Voltaire took to seducing both men and women, gaining complete their complete trust before shattering their hearts, feeding off of the pain and heartache they felt with the many mouths that scattered his body. This cycle went on for quite a few years, which was until he had met a bakery owner before one of his quests to the midrealm. He remembered her also working at the palace where he and the Ruler lived, seeing her usually roaming the halls or filing papers in various work rooms. He saw her almost every day but didn’t think much of it until he had seen her at that bakery and tried one of her pastries. He jokingly asked her for the recipe and he found himself with a hastily written batch of instructions and ingredients on the back of a business card, followed by a quick bow from the woman who wanted to meet her bosses wishes. He continued, not thinking much of it until he returned back to his palace, heading to the kitchen and asking and asking for someone to make him what was on the card, but to no avail, as each pastry he was served always lacked something, but he just couldn’t make out what it was. Pulling the woman from her desk, he brought her into the kitchen and asked for her to make her pastries, as nothing he nor his chefs did seem to help. He watched her carefully and in the end, the process they were made was almost identical to what his guards did. Yet they still tasted just like they did at the bakery. He couldn’t stop thinking about her after that, wondering about why she kept appearing in his mind or why she smiled each time she saw him now. One night, he sat up, breaking the darkness in his room as he turned on his side lamp. He stared at the ceiling and thought about his feelings quietly, before coming to a sudden realization. The woman had liked him. His face flushed a deep maroon before suddenly feeling a heavy beating from his chest. He writhed in pain, rolling out of bed and onto the floor as he gripped the front of his nightshirt. He now had a heart.

Voltaire tried to shake it off, figuring that not much would be different as he continued his day like he normally did. He soon found himself taking his normal walk through the town that resided near his palace, watching as people cleared out of his way quickly, keeping their eyes off of him as carefully as they could. When approaching shop owners, he had noticed how they cowered and shook at his voice, a detail that he had never really taken into notice until now. He experienced this every day, for weeks, and his “job” in the MidRealm of breaking hearts and feeding off of the pain began to suffer as well. After about a week of this, he couldn’t handle any more and decided to confront the ruler, only to be met with a harsh warning, “They listen to us because they fear us. Without that fear, we are nothing.” As his master left, Voltaire’s hands balled into tight fists as his mind tried to come up with a way to get rid of his ruler once and for all. An idea came to his head, one that surely wound end the supreme demon’s reign once and for all. A few days after, as he was going on his morning walk, he handed out small cards to each monster and demon he passed, not saying much else. As fearful as they were at first, once they read the cards, they immediately felt much better about Voltaire than before. “The Lord’s reign of terror shall be no more. We storm the palace a week from today. Be prepared to fight.”

The day had arrived, and it wasn’t much longer until the castle doors would burst open and hundreds upon thousands of monsters and demons flooded the hallways, easily clearing through the guards as they made their way to the head demon’s throne room. Most had never personally seen them, so seeing a nearly 70 foot tall demon sitting solemnly by himself had caught most of them off guard. Nonetheless, a battle soon begun, with each monster and demon attacking all at once. The ruler, feeling himself growing weaker with each blow, swiped down at the crowds at his feet before feeling himself suddenly being knocked back onto his side. They began to swarm his body, striking his bare skin over and over again leaving deep gashes and bruises. He tried many times to stand again and swat them away, but to no avail as soon almost every monster and demon were beating him into the floor of his throne room. As he watched his citizens, he suddenly flung most of the monsters off when he realized who had been directing each attack and defense. He found himself back on his feet, ignoring each attack as he stomped through the crowd and scooped up Voltaire, squeezing him hard in his massive hand. Voltaire struggled to get his arm free, but soon, he had it out and raised, and as his creator screamed in rage, Voltaire tossed something into his shouting maw. After a few seconds, there was a long flash of white, and a loud thud as Voltaire hit the ground below. All that remained in the ruler’s place was ash and an inch long sliver of one of his horns. All were silent, surrounding Voltaire’s body anxiously. His eyes slowly opened, and everyone felt a wave of relief before beginning to congratulate each other with cheers. They had won.

A month or so had passed, Voltaire had taken over the UnderRealm and had begun a new era. One where monsters and demons didn't have to live each day in fear that a guard would randomly bash in their door for something they couldn’t provide. He woke up, feeling much better than he had before, although his body’s mouths had grown hungrier more often from no longer eating others pain. He met lots of new people, and had even gotten together with the baker girl who he had grown extremely fond with. Everything seems to be running smoothly for now, however, Voltaire every now and then gets stricken with terrible headaches. While most of the time he tries to just shake them off, he sometimes describes the pain as, “The old tyrant, trying to claw his way back inside.”