A terrible and agonized scream broke the silence of the night. It was the third the men of the inn had heard in as many minutes. The Bracelli inn was completely silent. They dared not bring attention to themselves on this misty and cold night. They had all gathered for drinks and merriment. That had lasted for hours before the first scream. That first scream had been so strange and piercing that all of them had stopped, the juggler in the corner even missed his catch and his colorful balls fell to the floor. The second scream had made everyone realize that something was very wrong. They could feel it, hell, they could taste it in the air around them. By the third scream, they had all grabbed something to defend themselves with.
The old innkeep had a long cleaver, his wife a thick club. A few of the dandies in at the bar had been carrying curved ship-sabers and had those in hand. The local hunter was among them and had loaded his wheellock musket, the weapon normally only used to pick off deer or boar in the surrounding area. They were not used to this kind of thing here. They all had chosen to live in this more central part of Braceleth because it was quiet. They stayed away from the cities as much as they could. Apparently the madmen who roamed the cities at night had come here too. There were a number of other men in the main room of the inn who had matchlock muskets or knives, ready for whatever had killed those people to come through the door.
Of course, none of them actually wanted anything to come through the door at all. They had extinguished all but a single lantern that sat on the bar to hopefully make it seem like there was no one here at all. They huddled, waiting, hoping, panic creeping ever closer as they waited in the total silence of the inn. Total silence aside from the low sobbing and praying from one of the whores who worked out of the inn.
Their silence was violated by the sound of a heavy step on the deck of the inn. The hollow thunk of a hard riding boot and the tired groan of the old planks. Whoever was out there was damned heavy. “That bastard has armor on.” one of the saber armed sailors whispered to no one in particular,. That assessment did not help the panic of the waiting citizens. They had seven guns between them, more than enough to make short work of even a man in full plate armor, but, the fact someone was wearing armor changed things. What if he was not alone? What if this was some kind of raid? Their minds all shattered at once as the door slowly creaked open, revealing their stalker.
He was not a man in armor, nor was he a man at all, not really. He was far too tall to be a man, twice the height of even the largest of any man these people had seen. His long and dripping form ducked low, slipping into the inn with a casual gait. The floor groaned in protest as his weight settled on it. As he slid into the room it became clear what killed the people outside. His hand clasped an ax dripping with blood that was a monster in it’s own right. They all looked at it, feeling their blood turn cold as their heart rate pounded ever harder. The sound the ax made as it moved the air was like the fangs of some great serpent scratching against old rusty steel. They did not know this, but, they all thought it sounded like exactly the same thing. The people did also not stop to think of how an ax stirring the air could make any sound at all. The man who held the ax was a giant in a long blood stain coat with a tattered gray scarf around his neck. On his head sat a wide brimmed traveler’s hat and he had what looked like bandages over his eyes.
The room was still as everyone looked at the grinning monster before them. A hiss escaped the giant’s mouth as it opened and he spoke, his voice seeming to echo in their minds and sound accented and yet still very familiar,
“How is your local surgeon?” A rattle of muskets was his only reply as everyone with a gun in the room opened fire on the giant mad man. The bullets tore into him and he staggered back for only a second before howling with words that were mostly laughter,
“APPARENTLY HE’S GREAT!” The next minute was a blur of madness. After that first volley of muskets there was no more resistance. The giant swept through them like a scythe through wheat. His ax flashed, his body turned, his hands snapped out, his teeth crushed throats. In a time somewhere between a few seconds and an eternity, everyone was dead and the floor was slick with spilled blood. There was only one person left, blessed with blood, though, a person would be a very poor description. That mad man was Murder. He was Sleeth Rethrah, and he killed them all for a purpose.
He slammed his ax down, burying it in the hard floor with casual ease. He snapped his hands upward, fingers brushing the ceiling of the main room. His words came out quick and in a tongue that almost none of his people would know. He spoke the language of the far off people of the Moon Goddess, he spoke in feverish devotion. He dedicated the blood letting and all their bodies to the great Lady of the Full Face. He blessed her with this sacrifice, called her name six times, and then demanded her presence. With that done, he turned toward the hearth of the inn and snapped his hands toward it, spraying the embers with the blood of the fallen. The embers burst to life in sanguine flames.
“Come now.” he whispered in a sultry tone,
“Do not leave me alone on this night when I have such need of interesting company and plenty to talk with you about.” He grinned a blind and blood stained grin at the roaring flames, waiting for his ‘sister’ to appear.
At the time the Goddess had felt the request for her presence, or rather the demand for it, she had been enjoying a meal of hearts and a few things of fruit. Letting out an annoyed groan she stood to her full height, topping out at 15 feet unless you counted the Grand set of antlers on her head that added about a foot and a half to her height. “You better not be wasting my time,” she growled to no one in particular as she made her way to the portal that The god of Knowledge made available to the others. It was strange considering the summons for her had not come from her own domain, but the domain of another, and the sacrifice had been substantial.
When she finally appeared in the tavern, she looked around with a giddy expression on her face at the amount of blood that was splattered around the building.
“Aaaah, Murder,” Meztliyoatl purred at the sight of the other God,
“What can I do for you this fine and bloody evening?” Her eyes twinkled with amusement as the very blood Sleeth had spilled for her began to move towards her, as if her presence called to it. The last time she had seen this much bloodshed for her, it had been an entire village killed because a foolish man thought he could get her to do what he wanted. Well, he had been disappointed when she simply ripped the heart out of his chest and ate it.
“You know, this slaughter is lovely, I think the red improves on the decor immensely,” she told the other God,
“Though it won’t be here long enough to make a lasting impression I’m afraid.” She let out a sigh before moving closer to the shorter God, one of her hands idly spinning one of the many knives she carried with her. If she did not have her Sword or her Bow, she at least had a knife to keep her hands amused when she wasn’t tearing people limb from limb.
“We are blessed with blood indeed.” Sleeth Rethrah said with reverence as the knife twirling goddess came closer. He shook out his bandaged hands slightly, splattering some of the blood from his hands to the floor by her feet. The blood that coated his clothing and body was already swirling down his form and to the floor to reach the power he had dedicated it to.
“Shall we take a step outside into the moonlight?” he said, his face still pulled into a wild grin, inhumanly large,
“I think this building is far too small to give proper clearance for your impressive rack.”he chuckled, his blind eyes scanning her briefly before he moved to the side and ducked out of the inn and out into the full moon’s glow.
He walked forward to the middle of the empty cobblestone street, raising his hands palm up as if feeling the light that was bathing him. He had left his ax in the inn and would need to go back to get it later, but, he did not think he would need it during this conversation, not with his friend.
“I unfortunately called you out here for something more than a pleasant stroll in your majestic light, Meztilyoatl.” he said, dropping his arms to his side making his great coat flutter slightly,
“There are great shadows starting to whirl around us. Don’t you feel it? Smell it?” he turned to face her, hissing breath and running his tongue out into the air, steam puffing from his hot breath,
“Taste it?” The wild Goddess laughed at the God’s words, the sound two toned, half crazed yet completely sane all at once.
“There are always things stirring in the night when it comes to the Gods my dear friend,” she said with a smile,
“Though this one seems far more uppity I would think.” Now outside the Tavern, she was able to stand up to her full height, the last of the sacrificial blood sinking into her skin and pulling out a very pleased sigh. Now that she was not hunched over, she reached up and ran her fingers over her own antlers, happy that they were out enjoying the light of the very thing that represented her.
“Come now, as fun as your riddles can be you know how I get when I’m interrupted from a meal, I was enjoying some nice hearts and some papaya.”“Papaya?” Sleeth said, tilting his head in a disbelieving manner,
“Now, what happened to the woman I knew a millenia ago? I think your words were, ‘I would never sully my heavenly tongue with something that didn’t bleed when you cut it.’ “ he quoted, well misquoted heavily, a statement she had made to him once when they had eaten together and he had brought some of his people’s famous grapes. Of course, he had pointed out they bled fruit blood and even had skin you could pierce. He had even offer wine to her as it was perhaps the best extrapolation of ‘fruit blood’ he could think of. Needless to say, the picnic had been a disaster for the nearby tribe.
“Fruit aside,” Sleeth said, his grin returning just as suddenly as it had left his face,
“This is the time, my lovely. I know you know it.” he said, turning and starting to stroll down the road in the moonlight, all the population of the dark village behind locked doors and cowering after so much sound of slaughter.
“The heavens are divided, they are trying to cling to something and they will act like burrs from a prickle plant and stick to whatever coat tails drag near them and look fancy enough.” He turned his blind face toward her slightly, seeing her in the pulsing vision that he possessed. It was hardly vision at all. It was merely a removal of all visual impairment, but, not vision at all. He saw by knowing and knew what he saw only by memory.
”We can’t let someone waltz in and steal the throne for themselves, putting little rules and restrictions on us. You know if that glowing orb in the sky on the other side of the night gets his way you and I are both going to find ourselves on the wrong side of a trial.” his grin widened, if that was even possible,
“Besides, I bet it is going to get really bloody really soon.” A hissing noise passed her clenched teeth at the hint towards Telios, a God she tolerated because his existence was necessary, but she denied his sun from her Domain.
“No one deserves to sit in that Throne,” she growled out,
“No one should rule above us Gods, I much rather be left to my own devices and murder as I please. It’s not like I bother others with it as I do so, they are often bandits or evil doers anyway… a few children here or there.” She grinned at Sleeth, her own smile rather large as well, showing insanely sharp fangs. Deer like ears swiveled a bit as she listened to the hushed and terrified voices behind closed doors. She loved fear, thrived in it in a similar way to the blood offerings though it gave her no power.
“I will never give anyone my Center of power.”Sleeth nodded to her, turning toward her and stopping his walk. His hat brim bobbed as he did so.
“Exactly!” he said excitedly, pointing to her and then clapping his large cloth wrapped hands together,
“You would be the one to understand best. We do not need a king or queen of the gods. What is a king to a God?” he gestured outward and took a few steps backward,
“Why would we gods not just meet and come to a consensus every hundred years or so? Establish what needs to be done and handle our business as equals? Are we not all Heavenly and divine after all?” he raised his hands toward her, head tilting in question as if he needed her confirmation on that point.
“This is why I called you here, my lovely, this is what I wanted to talk about.” he said, white teeth gleaming in the night as if they were possessed of an inner light of their own.
“I agree, a council would be best for everyone, no one needs another breathing down their necks, I certainly don’t,” she stated calmly,
“My power relies so heavily on sacrifices of blood and I feel they would dwindle in numbers if there is a King or a Queen, they may simply fear that I would become too powerful. Though I doubt anyone could become more powerful than the Daughter of Life and War, have you spoken to her about this? She seems like a smart child, and you seem to like her well enough as she does you.” The antlered female moved closer to the God of Murder and playfully shoved him, it was a game she enjoyed playing considering her violent tendencies and that the man before her knew just how to play her games.
Sleeth took a step back at the shove, bracing himself. It was powerful enough to probably push a mortal’s arm right out of their socket and throw them to the earth with shattering force. To them, it was merely a bit of fun.
“OH,” he said, his voice rumbling with a hint of mad giggles,
“I talked with her a great deal when we were trying not to fight in the war. We talked far more than I think many people realize. I even sent my daughter to her as an envoy to her domain.” he brought himself forward suddenly and pushed Meztliyoatl back with his right hand. He pushed much harder than she did and centered his hand on her hip, trying to disturb her center of balance as he did so.
“I think she will see reason when the cards start to fall over the whole world. When all the gods start to tip their hands a little too far.” A maddened giggle escaped the animalistic Goddess as Sleeth shoved her back, causing her to have to stumble back a few inches before she outright tackled the man. She loved playing such games with him, no other god ever dared partake in her games, other than the War Goddess. In fact, she and Koritomo often helded mock wars, constantly practicing against one another just for the fun. Sleeth however, oh no, this God wasn’t afraid to get down and dirty with Meztliyoatl was in the mood for a little hand to hand combat. She never moved to kill him, she cared far too much for the God she had grown close to in the years since he had been ‘created’. Old as she may be, she had been extremely pleased to see there was a god who enjoyed killing as much as she did.
Sleeth was caught mostly off guard by her sudden aggression and was tackled right to the ground. He landed on his back, the wind flying out of him and she landed atop him. He let out a breathless howl of laughter and started immediately to find purchase on her, grabbing her by the arm with one hand and the horns with the other, torquing her to the side, reversing her pin quickly. He knelt slightly to the side of her, his knee on her ribs trying to hold her down. He removed his hand from her arm and raised it up to strike at her while he still held her antler with his other. He was striking at her face, but, not hard enough to really hurt her. He always loved it when she showed up and wanted to brawl a bit. He sometimes thought about trying to kill her, but, then he would probably get bored and she was far too much fun to ever put an end to.
Finding herself beneath him now, she used one hand to grab onto the fist he was trying to punch her with, her grip firm but not enough to break anything. The two sometimes found themselves being far more violent with one another, sometimes close to killing each other but never nothing they could not come back from. Jerking her head to the side a bit, she tried to punch him herself, aiming for the side of his ribs as she did so, eyes shining with glee. No one was able to satisfy her love for fighting the way he did, she always looked forward to their time together. Either they were fighting one another, or simply enjoying the slaughter of others together, a match made in hell with their Friendship.
The Murder God let out and huff of impact as her fist struck home in his ribs. He laughed as if she was telling him a rather amusing joke before he jerked the arm she had caught backward. He removed the arm only, his fist staying clasped in her hand, severed at the wrist. The bandages that held his hands on were still wrapped about the fist she was holding that now started to wriggle madly in her grip. He lifted the arm and the fell to the side, bringing his elbow and body down on top of her, aiming for her stomach with his sudden elbow drop. To do so he had to release his hold on her antler, but, that was fine. He liked to let her have control of her head most of the time when they fought. Sometimes she tried to, and succeeded at, goring him with those marvelous horns.
Her breath came out on a squeak, which was then followed up by a series of coughs,
“I hate your hands sometimes,” she gasped out, pushing Sleeth off of her so she could roll to her feet, throwing his hand at his face. On the off chance she ever hit him with it, she found it utterly hilarious that she had basically made him hit himself. Her ears pinning back as she crouched down a bit, ready for a charge if it were to come, but also curious as to what would happen now that the two were no longer wrapped up with one another on the ground. Sometimes she entertained certain thoughts when it came to the God, but more often than not she simply enjoyed fighting him.
He caught his hand in his teeth like a dog having a ball thrown at it. He bit into the meaty side of the hand and then pushed his stump back into the empty wrist. He wrapped the bandage back up with his other hand and then released his grip on the strange hand with his teeth. He laughed. A deep and rumbling sound as she readied herself for a charge. He flexed his fingers a few times and then lowered his own stance.
“You don’t hate my hands.” he said in a breathy whisper,
“You know you can’t get enough of my little tricks.” he circled to the right slowly, eyeing her with missing eyes and swaying his head back and forth slightly,
“Why don’t we bless this village with blood?” he suggested, his grin widening,
“A little party, just the two of us to put our plans into something like an official capacity. We bless this whole village, every last one of them. We dedicate all the children to you, all the elderly to me, and then we split the rest down the middle. If it doesn’t work out even we can just dedicate the last one to our dear fallen father and laugh until the sun comes up.” he feinted toward her for one step and giggled again,
“What do you say, my lovely?” “Ooooooh, you know just how to get this little heart of mine pumping,” she said on her own giggle,
“A God after my own heart my Dear Sleeth.” She winked at him before clapping her hands together and looking around the village,
“Let us bless this village with blood, the sweet life sustenance that every mortal has coursing through their veins.” She tackled Sleeth once more, only this time it was with a hug as she nuzzled the God’s neck and giggled maniacally, oh how much fun the two were about to have.
He held her in his arms and spun as she hugged him. She was taller than he was but if he spun fast enough it still would make her feet spin out a little. He let her go after a few rotations and laughed like a loon. Suddenly, he snapped his head forward toward her and then looked around the empty streets from house to house.
“Let’s begin.” he hissed with anticipation. The air seemed to vibrate with excitement between the two of them.
“No godly weapons. We do this the old-old-old-old fashioned way.” he giggled. Without another word, he darted to the side, smashing through the first door he could, shattering it to splinters. The poor family in that house awoke only for a moment. They awoke just long enough to see the face that had guided their culture and lives. They awoke long enough to feel the fear, pain, and sorrow of brutality. The village was blessed by the two Divines. No one survived. No great loss.
