Artwork by Spiderdasquirrel
Tsochan is my character

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"You have no right to me! Let me go at once!"

"Disposed souls raging at me, they always do... those whose souls end up in my hands. They never seem to quite understand... still I best deal with this excuse me."

Turning the demon protruded his mind into that special place of the under-memory where he kept himself. Letting his body wrap around himself he shook out his maroon hair. He could just see the horns sweeping around to either side of his head.

The muzzle was nice, long, canine and his ears ah he did love these ears. This body was his favourite for playing with the souls who came into his possession. Grabbing hold of his staff, such a simple piece of wood topped by a golden ankh. It matched the gorget around his throat.

Growling softly he stared down at the soul who was now cowering, their incoherent babbling at his servants having dried up at his magnificent arrival. The whirling glowing symbols of the eight schools of magic were quite ostentatious. But people expected it, the smooth, muscular body, the black fur, the simple loincloth. All declared Yes I am drop dead gorgeous and flaunt it and you just have to deal with the fact you can never look like me.

It added power too, a air of majesty that few could hope to match or stand against. Not shorn of physical form and reduced to nothing more then a soul.

"You are mine to do with as I please mortal," he intoned in a firm, solid voice, letting only a hint of bark linger at the back of his throat.

"You, you have no right... I... I... demand you release me!

Holding up his free hand Tsochan summoned his symbol, the iron Triskelion surrounded by fire.

"You died at the hands of one who bore my symbol, one who was pledged to me. I am the omega of your life, your soul is mine to dispose of as I see fit.

The human stared at the symbol, gaping as recognition dawned, "That shitty kobold who killed me did this! This isn't fair, this isn't right! You can't just steal my soul because of who killed me!

The jackal laughed, tossed his head back and laughed, a deep, rich, booming bark of a laugh. Then suddenly he was there, pressed against the human, his claws digging into the soulstuff of their body.

"It is my right, it is my duty... I judge you wanting human, I judge you waiting...."

The human had time for a single screech before their ephemeral body crystallised into a small oval shard. It glistened like a pearl yet was faceted like the finest cut of jewel. Holding it up on his palm Tsochan admired it then barked softly.

“You seem to have no god waiting for you human… this means you are mine and mine alone… welcome I judge ye worthy of joining my collection. You will advance my power until such time as I am done with you… then perhaps the dregs of what you were will be sold to one of the lesser orders in return for a favour.”

Laughing the jackal turned away; there were other souls on their way. His servants had been busy; it seemed their secret raid had turned into quite the massacre. Others were coming, more would be here soon… It was only right that they were greeted by the Psychopomp, the judge and decider of their fates who now owned their immortal souls. It always felt good to receive new souls, especially freshly ripped from life and destiny. Some of them would have gods who he would trade them back to, others would be fair game. They would all end up either as power for him or a new series of traits and personalities to make his clan of kobolds stronger.