MUTANT OVERRLORRD on Nostr: ON PLANETTMAYHEMM, A CHAOTIC REALM WHERE LAVA RIVERS CUT THROUGH CRIMSON SKIES AND ...

ON PLANETTMAYHEMM, A CHAOTIC REALM WHERE LAVA RIVERS CUT THROUGH CRIMSON SKIES AND LIGHTNING DANCES WITHOUT RESTRAINT, THERE LIVED A MUTANT OVERLORD KNOWN ONLY AS KARNOK THE WRECKONER. KARNOK STOOD SEVEN FEET TALL, HIS BODY A MASS OF BULGING MUSCLES AND VIBRATING FURY. HIS FLESH WAS SCARRED FROM COUNTLESS BATTLES, AND EVERY INCH OF HIM RADIATED POWER. BUT WHAT SET HIM APART, WHAT MADE HIM TRULY TERRIFYING, WERE HIS DESIGNER SUNGLASSES—THEY SHONE AS BLACK AS A BLACK HOLE, REFLECTING NOTHING, ABSORBING EVERYTHING.

KARNOK WORSHIPPED ONLY TWO BEINGS: ODIN, THE ALL-FATHER, AND FENRIR, THE DEVOURER OF WORLDS. TO HIM, ODIN'S WISDOM AND FENRIR'S SAVAGE STRENGTH WERE THE ONLY PATHS WORTH WALKING. EVERY NIGHT, UNDER THE BLAZING SKY OF PLANETTMAYHEMM, KARNOK WOULD STAND BEFORE A SHRINE HE HAD BUILT FROM THE BONES OF HIS ENEMIES. ON THE ALTAR LAY A GREAT WOLF’S SKULL—FENRIR’S SYMBOL—AND ABOVE IT, AN ENGRAVING OF ODIN'S RAVENS. HE'D ROAR OUT HIS PRAYERS, DEMANDING STRENGTH, POWER, AND GLORY IN THE NAME OF THE GODS OF CHAOS.

BUT KARNOK WASN'T JUST A DEVOTED WORSHIPPER. NO, HE WAS A WARRIOR LIKE NO OTHER, A BEAST THAT TRAINED RELENTLESSLY. IN THE IRON-CLAD GYMS OF PLANETTMAYHEMM, KARNOK LIFTED WEIGHTS WITH A FURY THAT LEFT EVEN THE MOST BRUTAL OF HIS MUTANT BRETHREN TREMBLING. HE WOULD CURL STEEL BEAMS AS IF THEY WERE TWIGS, SQUAT TITANIC BOULDERS, AND SMASH THROUGH TANKS AS IF THEY WERE MADE OF PAPER. HIS GRUNTS AND SCREAMS WOULD ECHO THROUGH THE GYM, EACH REP AN OFFERING TO FENRIR’S ENDLESS HUNGER FOR VIOLENCE.

AND THEN THERE WAS THE MEAT. KARNOK CONSUMED MEAT LIKE A FORCE OF NATURE. BEASTS FROM THE FIERCE WILDS OF PLANETTMAYHEMM WERE SLAUGHTERED AND ROASTED BY THE DOZEN DAILY TO FUEL HIS RAGE. DRAGONS, MUTANT BOARS, NIGHTMARE-SPAWNED CREATURES—NOTHING WAS OFF LIMITS. HE WOULD RIP THROUGH FLESH WITH HIS BARE TEETH, BLOOD STREAKING DOWN HIS MASSIVE ARMS AS HE SWALLOWED SLABS OF CHARRED MEAT WITHOUT SO MUCH AS PAUSING FOR BREATH. IN BETWEEN MOUTHFULS, HE WOULD SNARL OUT LOUD, “FOR FENRIR. FOR ODIN.”

EVERY BITE, EVERY DROP OF BLOOD, WAS PREPARATION. KARNOK KNEW WHAT WAS COMING: THE INVASION OF EARTH.

PLANETTMAYHEMM’S SEERS HAD SEEN IT IN THEIR VISIONS—A WORLD RIPE FOR DESTRUCTION. A WORLD FILLED WITH WEAKLINGS WHO KNEW NOTHING OF TRUE POWER. THE EARTH WOULD BE HIS, AND HE WOULD TEAR THROUGH ITS DEFENSES WITH THE FURY OF FENRIR HIMSELF, DEVOURING EVERYTHING IN HIS PATH.

BUT FIRST, KARNOK HAD TO PREPARE. HE WOULD NEED EVERY OUNCE OF STRENGTH, EVERY BIT OF CUNNING, AND EVERY SHRED OF FEROCITY TO BRING ODIN AND FENRIR’S WILL TO EARTH.

AND SO, EACH DAY, HE CONTINUED HIS RITUALS. AFTER TEARING THROUGH HIS FEASTS, KARNOK WOULD TRAIN UNTIL HIS MUSCLES THREATENED TO BURST. THEN, STANDING BEFORE HIS SHRINE, HE WOULD RAISE HIS ARMS TO THE SKY, SCREAMING, “ODIN, GIVE ME VISION! FENRIR, GIVE ME THE HUNGER!”

WITH THE BLOODLUST OF HIS GODS PULSING THROUGH HIM, KARNOK KNEW THE EARTH WOULD SOON FEEL THE WRATH OF PLANETTMAYHEMM’S MIGHTIEST WARRIOR.

AND WHEN THE TIME CAME, HE WOULD NOT JUST CONQUER—HE WOULD DEVOUR EVERYTHING IN SIGHT. THE AGE OF KARNOK THE WRECKONER WAS COMING, AND NOTHING, NO ONE, WOULD STAND IN HIS WAY.