Of course, you have had the mother of all hangovers. That nervous peek in the selfie-camera of your phone to check the pallid tones of your skin post-puke fest, the remains of which now cover a significant proportion of your floor and kitchen. That leads to the question of just what you were doing and/or thinking when you heaved your lunch, dinner, a bottle and half of tequila and a small amount of stomach lining in these two removed spaces. You have some inkling of the sensations than flooded through whatever un-scarred and awakened consciousness that I had. There was no smell of stale, secondhand regurgitation, but the stench of burnt flesh and blood hung on the air like a wet blanket. Someone was retching and heaving somewhere nearby, obviously sensitive to the smell of their cremated friends.

I could still feel the warmth from the embers of the dying flame and noted with some amusement the remnants of a hand sticking out of the ashes among some pieces of wood that probably been turned into charcoal. There was not a hint of flesh on the bony fingers, which was a boon. I reached in and took the bones out. There was something surreal and reassuring about a memento of the night and the vast change that had been wrought by some ignorant fleshling turds in their misguided desire to summon an Outer God. I bet they were surprised when I showed up.

I was still sitting on the ground close by the embers and it was the draft that hinted at my somewhat exposed condition. Not that any fleshling would know what to make of me, but I needed to get something in me. Even for my own mental state, I needed to take in some sustenance and get moving from what was a depressing scene. Still holding the skeletal hand, I wandered through about the clearing searching what was left of the fleshingly dancers who lay about in twisted heaps like grotesque rubber toys wrapped up on themselves. Clothing singed and burnt to within fall into ash, these were useless to me. So, I moved further out and into the tree line that marked the boundary of the clearing.

A faint wheezing sound reached me from a few metres to my left and it was in that direction that I walked. I was none too quiet as I really did not need to fear much at all, much less these things with pale skin and stinking flesh. On the ground was a fleshling with pale and grey hair dressed in a suit. Nearby some robe-like thing had been discarded before he had fallen amongst some reddish fungal domes on the ground. While he struggled to breathe, that was the source of that annoyingly rasping sound, he turned his head and saw me approach. The whites of his eyes shone with fear as he realised with some form of unholy epiphany what was coming for him.

"Oh, shyte...no...NO!", he screamed with delicious shudders that could be felt across the aether more than heard.

I reached him and lifted him up by the armpits and looked at the clothing; a bit small, but adequate for my purposes. I reached out through the aether, if that is what fleshlings call it, and felt the spongy, amorphous weakness of the male's mind and soul. As I probed about the fringes, hardly touching him, the fleshling squirmed and began squealing anew. I felt some small resistance, but an opening suddenly emerged and I was inside his deepest recesses, everything exposed. What I saw was unspeakable acts of cruelty, even from a young age, inflicted on living creatures that seemed much weaker than him. Some I was not familiar with, but they had four legs and did not speak his language. As I probed deeper, I began to search out the language that this thing spoke with its fellows.

The fleshling gurgled incoherently as I ripped out the memories that it had of language, absorbing the knowledge and the nourishment as my own. It was a struggle but with some effort I was able to absorb it and make some sense of it. Much would have to wait until later. I had more pressing and more practical matters at hand. I found deeper memories and then it was there, dark and pulsating, almost bio-luminous in its reddish-green tinge. The thing's Ego was a sight to behold and I savoured it for a good few moments, holding his physical form tight as I danced about the soul within. He screamed and gurgled more, blood coming from his ruptured throat and disgorged stomach, such was the force of his exclamations and cries.

With a fury that was both sudden and complete, I tore the soul apart, spiritual thread from spiritual thread like some exquisite tapestry that was unraveled from within. The taste of fleshling fear and death washed over my form and spirit like a tidal wave of euphoric ecstasy that threatened to overwhelm, sating my thirst and hunger in one single act of violence. The final vestiges of the thing's soul and Ego collapsed and fell into the vortex of dark vacuum that was my own being. The bodily form was a mere husk, alive but no more than what a tree might be, perhaps even less. Considering this flesh thing worthless and a greater risk should it be found, I flipped it over and grabbed its feet, one in each of my hands. I spun about and held tight to the feet. After a full rotation, the wind was whistling by until a final liquifying, splashing slap and thud ended his life or what little remained of it.

Looking down at the heap of mangled fleshling, I wandered off to find a place to rest and think. Now that my hunger and thirst had been fulfilled, I needed time to consider and plan. I had emerged not by choice, but I was sure going to make the most of this turn in events. The Other Gods had a new face in town and one that was not entirely incapable of rational thought.