Template:PostMemnoch is busily corrupting a planet in Pan Post 22 when High Imp arrives to express his knowledge of Memnoch's Greyshade. The Greyshade has Twice-Forgotten two of the Void Rangers meant to be protecting the Earth by order of Fladnag the White and the support of the WriterGod. He admits nothing to High Imp but he mentally recalls the Greyshade back to Tartarus. High Imp then informs Memnoch that Mega Jonestown Prime will return and through it Memnoch could lay claim to a vast network of universes with souls for his consumption. In return High Imp wants to know the identity of the Beast in the Pit.



Memnoch floats in the void over a planet far removed from the Milky Way galaxy. A small smile strains his lips as he watches the tumult below. The populace has been steadily led deeper and deeper into corruption. Soon, he will enact his global sanction, and Tartarus will swell with a billion more damned souls.

High Imp: Admiring your handiwork?

Memnoch's small smile does not falter, and his demeanor gives no hint of his shock that he has been sneaked up on.

Memnoch: A masterful corruption, on a planetary scale, is worth my admiration, irregardless of whose handiwork it may or may not be.

It is understood by the two that Memnoch would never admit to his role in swelling his own domains. It is also understood by them that High Imp knows full well of Memnoch's culpability, and likewise does not care.

High Imp: Would such a corruptive master defy the WriterGod?

Memnoch looks sharply at High Imp.

Memnoch: Few there are who defy him.

High Imp: Fladnag the White assigned twelve Void Rangers to Earth. Except he didn't. He assigned ten.

Memnoch: What is your game, beast?

High Imp: If I told you that, the game would be much less interesting.

Memnoch barks a laugh.

Memnoch: Then what other moves do you have before you cede your turn?

High Imp: The natives of dead Mirare would benefit greatly, if humanity was forgotten.

Memnoch refrains from giving High Imp another sharp look. Both of them know very well that Memnoch was a patron of the Miraran Greys, who were passed over in favor of humanity.

Memnoch: Mirare is dead, and its natives of no consequence.

High Imp: As you say. If humans were of no consequence, might the WriterGod take offense?

Memnoch's visage is expressionless. High Imp's meaning is very clear. The archdevil of Tartarus dispatched his Greyshade to Earth, in order to annul - or Twice-Forget - humanity's destiny and centrality. With humanity's fate forgotten, time could be reshaped, and the Greys retroactively ascended to cosmic prominence.

But no one could detect the Greyshade, who was Twice-Forgotten himself. When the Greyshade had annulled two of Fladnag's Void Rangers, no one should have ever remembered them. Yet High Imp had, or someone else had, and High Imp had discovered it from them.

Memnoch: The WriterGod does not concern me.

Already, his telepathy reaches silently across the stars, recalling the Greyshade to Tartarus. Though Memnoch would never admit it, he fears the WriterGod. Even more than he fears the Beast in the Abyss of Tartarus's 666th layer.

Memnoch: Nor should he concern you. You no longer serve him.

High Imp: In this, as in all things, I serve only myself. Just as I serve myself in offering you a vast repository of fresh souls.

Memnoch is unable to keep from licking his lips hungrily at the prospect.

Memnoch: What sort of repository could you offer enough to sate me?

High Imp: None, for there is no sating of your appetite. But there are universes of easement to your hunger that await you, if only you are prepared.

Memnoch regards High Imp warily. There are few beings in the NeSiverse whom the archdevil of Tartarus is wary of... but High Imp is one of them.

Memnoch: A bold claim.

High Imp: Have I ever made a false claim, no matter how bold?

Memnoch: As the Father of Lies, I confess a certain disappointment that you never have.

High Imp: Mega Jonestown Prime returns. They lay an intercosmic highway to other universes. And on their heels barks an empire more massive than a trillion NeSiverses.

Memnoch whips his head around to stare at High Imp in complete and utter shock. He opens his mouth, then closes it. It is pointless to ask how High Imp knows secrets of this magnitude.

Memnoch: And what do you desire in exchange? You already lay claim to much of my power from our previous pact.

High Imp smiles, baring sharp teeth.

High Imp: I would know what lies in the pit that is the 666th layer of Tartarus.

If blood flowed through Memnoch's veins, it would have drained from his face.

Memnoch: There is nothing there.

High Imp: This much I know. But if that nothing were something...what would it be?

Memnoch cannot remember the last time he was truly unsettled. No one but he has ever known of the Beast in the Abyss. But then he remembers that High Imp was once the almighty right hand of the very Nameless, supreme archdeity over all stories and multiverses...

And so he tells High Imp of the Beast in the Pit...

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