Rosh stood in the center of the vast, shadowy gothic hall, his starry void form pulsing with a faint, rhythmic glow. Though disappointment flickered in his chest at the realization that the ancient Overlord of Death was not the Doom Overseer he sought, his analytical mind quickly weighed the situation.
Finding a primordial entity of Garath's caliber trapped on an isolated, floating landmass in the middle of Earth's ocean was an extraordinary stroke of luck. An extra-dimensional sovereign of death was far too valuable an asset to leave rotting in isolation.
"I can help you get out of here," Rosh presented smoothly, his dual-toned voice echoing off the high stone pillars.
Garath paused on the steps of his bone throne. The yellowed skull tilted slightly, the crimson pinpricks of light in his hollow eye sockets flaring with cautious interest. He looked down at the starry silhouette standing before him, recalling the spatial authority Rosh's father had once commanded.
