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After running into the God of Ashes, Neltharion had become wary. The other gods certainly weren't sleeping as he had been, and even worse they'd begun to mingle more openly with the mortals. Breeding with them too...He didn't like the thought of other gods having the loyalty of their own seer children. No no no...

Calm...they will never know...

He grimaced and snorted. Of course not! His plans were perfect; his defenses beyond the pale. None of them would know of his plots. By the time they found out it would simply be far, far too late. They would bow to him then...

Yes, yes...They will bow, they will know their places. You will rule...

He grinned. And Ashes had still been young, hadn't he? Perhaps other gods were equally as...recent. The word was sour in his mind. Weaklings, being reborn...But youth made them dependable, and malleable...if only he could find a cub god to take under his wing!

The godlet was so small Nelly almost hadn't even noticed him at first. Once he had though he'd stopped dead to watch him go along. A bright red lion, he looked at first like a mortal for his size. Of course mortals didn't usually have wings, nor the sort of untouchable swagger this tyke (for a child he was) had. He snorted. What was the boy's domain, he wondered? The colors seemed familiar, but so young...it was hard to tell. Newly reborn, he could be anything...

...Well then, why not go and find out? Hadn't he just been bemoaning his need for immortals to mold and make his own? Why spurn good luck when it walked so neatly to his paws?

Perhaps he could hang back long enough to see the boy use some kind of power. He wasn't so foolish as to think new gods spawned out of the air and aether; surely it had parents somewhere nearby. Not that he wasn't sure he could defeat them to claim the boy, but it would be a bad move towards gaining his loyalty, killing his own parents off...He set off at an easy walk, a ways behind and to the side of the boy. No need to rush...they had all eternity after all.

Oho, so the child wasn't as dumb as he'd looked. He'd caught on that he was being followed--of course Neltharion had been smart enough to duck down into the grass at that moment. The child couldn't hurt him, of course, but he hadn't had all the fun he wanted to yet! The cub seemed irritated with something...something beyond being followed. Perhaps convincing him to leave his family wouldn't be so very hard. He was alone now, wasn't he? Perhaps he was lost, or cast out...who knew.

He nearly gave himself away with a laugh as the immortal babe hid his wings and feigned a look of fright. Silly thing, even if Neltharion had been mortal, he wouldn't fall for that. If you wanted others to think you were a mortal, you had to look like one when they first saw you, not after. He'd teach him how to do it right.

With the barest thought he wrapped himself in illusion. An aged and likely harmless old crone of a lioness. Every bit the sweet old grandma that every cub wished they'd had to dote on them, right? Forcing himself to hunch, he sighed as if tired and started slogging through the grass again towards the boy.

"Hello, hello yourself little one," He wheezed, "Poor little thing, little tyke, he looks so scared and lost...Are you lost, little one? What kind of parents would turn you lose at this age? Don't they know that their precious little treasure could get snatched up?" He finally slipped through the last of the grass and plopped down with an aged sigh. Scruffy and saggy, he offered a feeble smile. "Come here little one, let old granny take a look at you..."

Oh my yes, he was CERTAINLY young. Silly thing, little thing. He could crush him with the swipe of a paw for being so rude. He couldn't blame the whelp for his disgust at the sight of a mortal, but elders were to be respected. His facade was a pitiful thing indeed, that he'd so quickly lose his patience. He burned to know what domain he had; perhaps it related to why he was so very impatient.

"Deary me, snuck off? Why your mother must be plum worried sick. Dear little thing..." Acting unaware of the cub's clear disgust, and potentially senile, he slumped forward and moved to scoop the red ball of fluff towards him with strength unusual for such an old withered frame. "You've got a bit of dirt just there. Hold still!" He instructed the boy while he bent to dust the bit of brown from his face. "Let me just get it for you. I'm sure your mother would bathe you if you'd not snuck off!"

Perhaps such a bold move would trick the boy, convince him to lash out or show his true self. Though at this rate the boy's own temper would foil his illusion fast enough. When that happened, should he pretend to cower? Hmm...that was something he hadn't thought about. He wanted to use the boy's own trick against him, give him a nice fright before maybe snatching him up...but how to do it...

And there he went! Without so much a s a warning, the old 'hag soon found her paws full of squirming godlet, wings and all. What a shame. He struggled but he refused to let go. Instead he made an odd little noise, perhaps false shock at the sudden change, or maybe an unbidden grunt of pleasure at the turn of events, and the waves of delicious hate spilling off of the child.

"Now now then!" He scolded in his wheezy elder's voice. "Didn't your mother teach you some manners little one?" The scrabbling paws made little mark in his fur--the illusion was nothing more than mist and air after all.

The teeth too didn't hurt him, but he'd play along. He let out a mewling yelp of pain and slumped over his captive, making little sobs like he assumed an old wretched lioness would, faced with so much all at once. Of course, when his limb started to swell to monstrous size, the blood he'd let flow from the wound turned to burning pitch...well maybe the cub would realize something was different than he'd thought.

The god-hag's mewls deepened into groans, grunts, and finally a sort of dark, robust laughter. It was low and terrible, and altogether bizarre to be coming out of someone as small and female as that which form he'd assumed.

All pretense aside now, the cub was shaking in his proverbial boots. This was more fun than he'd had in AGES. Though part of him wished the illusion could have gone on longer, he wasn't sorry things had gone this way. He'd learned plenty about the child, and had cowed him. He stank of fear, as he should in the face of a real immortal.

Of course closing his eyes did not stop Neltharion's torment, far from it. Why was it that all cubs seemed to think that if they couldn't see their foe, it couldn't see them? Silly things, foolish little things..."What's the matter, little one?" His voice was eerie, both the hag's and his real one overlayed at once. "Maybe next time you shouldn't run so far from mommy's sight, hmm?"

It was time to take his true form, he'd decided. There would be a lack of surprise for the child, but he no longer cared. He'd had his fun, and there were other ways to torment the boy. His grip loosened on the cub slowly, and the rumbling laughter died in his chest. Maybe one last good shock...seconds dragged on and the silence grew--not even the birds dared to chirp. He waited until he thought perhaps the cub might finally relax or look up.

Then, with an explosion of sound and light, he flooded back into his real form. Once soft fur on his limbs around the cub hardened and darkened into scales run through with cracks and lava. He towered higher, higher, looming over the boy. THIS was what a god should look like! He leered down at the boy with burning eyes, daring him not to cry out.