An Interview with Arkzilipul
Anatokian Immersion Pits, Dkarthad Homeworld

Interviewer Henry Fare walks into a building where no humans are allowed. It is the entrance to the Anatokian Immersion Pits, a recreation of a mud oasis found on Skiverkilial. A hooded female alien with dark orange skin and green eyes leads him down a long corridor. They come to an elevator and take it down several levels. When they get to the bottom, they walk down a wide spiral staircase made of dark stone. As they descend into the darkness, it seems as if they descend down into the building’s foundation of rock and granite. The stairs lead to a large room lit by the luminous abdomens of two Cr’athak insects standing as guards to the entrance of a cave. Beyond the entrance, moans are heard and a bitter stench of burning Skiverkilial incense makes the human interviewer cover his mouth.

The hooded female leads Henry past the guards into a larger area with a very high ceiling. Dimly lit, a lot of figures move slowly in the background. Henry twists his head in the direction of a sudden crack of a whip. It appears a demon is being tortured... or pleasured. It gurgles a laugh after each lash. Henry shivers as he shakes his head. The female touches his arm and walks gently towards the center of the area.

There, emerged from his chest down in an elevated pool of bubbling black mud sits Arkzilipul. The female bows to the demon.

“Get lost,” he says.

As she leaves, Henry begins by taking a step forward. “Thank you for seeing m–”

Arkzilipul puts his hand up, silencing the mortal. His muscles are covered in the oily black mud. The odor seems unbearable for Henry as the interviewer breathes sporadically.

“Come closer,” Arkzilipul whispers.

Henry takes another brave step forward.

Arkzilipul grins. And waits.

Henry, too afraid to speak stands perfectly still except for the occasional twitch caused by his timed breathing.

The demon leans forward in the mud, it is very thick and flows slowly. The ripples move like a wave of roaches toward Henry and splash at the edge of the pool. Bubbles croak softly as they burst. “Ask the questions, human.”

Henry recovers as if he broke from a hypnotic trance. “Mr. Arkzilipul–”

“Graaa!” Arkzilipul tilts his head back and closes his eyes. “Never address me with humanoid titles!”

“Forgive me,” Henry’s heart stops. Then begins again. “Arkzilipul, th- thank you for having this interview.” Arkzilipul cracks the bones in his own neck.

Henry continues, “Your past... before Ophidian.” Henry thinks there is something else in the pool with Arkzilipul, but he is not sure.

Arkzilipul responds, “Wars. Pain. Destruction of the innocent. Torture. Terrors beyond your wildest nightmares.”

Henry swallows hard, “Why did you try gladiator combat?”

“Change of pace, perhaps.” Hideous giggles sound in the background as demonic enchantresses have taken interest in the interview. They are scantily clothed in dark and loose fabrics.

“You won the Raskelon singles event six years in a row. Then you dropped in rank to 3 VP when you joined Ophidian. After winning the Ophidian Ironman Deathmatch, you regained a 4 VP rank. You have quite a following here in the Raskelon System. What are your thoughts on your fans?”

Gray hands with red fingernails rise from the mud pool massaging Arkzilipul as he speaks, “Most of them are fools. I draw my powers from my opponents and their weaknesses.”

Henry continues, growing bolder, “What about P.K.?”

All motion in the room stops. The hands freeze, the enchantresses gasp in silence, the whip falls.

A heavy rage covers Arkzilipul as he rises from his bath. The hands vanish. Black mud slowly drips off his skin.

“P.K. has little time left. When we meet again, it will be the end for him. And this time, no one will save him.” Arkzilipul sinks back into the mud and wades closer to Henry, “One last question. It will be time to eat soon.”

Henry breathes a sigh of relief , “What are your thoughts on the tension between the Raskelon and Leonide people?”

“I think one more war would bring everlasting peace.”

“Thank you Arkzilipul, enjoy your meal.”

Arkzilipul stands in the pool, “Not so fast, human, you will join my dinner.”

Henry gets nervous, “Um, I’m not very hungry.”

Arkzilipul’s laughter cracks like lightning, “Who said you were going to eat?”

Henry raises his brows and then runs to escape. Black leather whips wrap around his ankles and stop him. Henry struggles and starts to cry. “Please don’t eat me, my flesh won’t taste good.”

Arkzilipul laughs again as he comes out of the pool, dripping in black mud. “You’re probably right, but it’s not your flesh I’m after...”