Fiction The Red Day (part 1)

Thanks to Scalenex for inspiring me, I have entered his universe I hope he doesn't mind, and I'm reading Lovecraft at the moment, thanks to him too.

this piece is in the lost city of Turochclitan. A human city in Lustria made by the slann, i recommend you read the above story first.

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There is a beauty in violence, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. If you have ever enjoyed a boxing match, or felt the rush of adrenalin in the when your spear strikes your pray, then you will know what I say to be true.

In fact, out in the middle of the jungle is where it strikes you the most, the savage jungle, where there are no rules, those that have adapted to violence the most are the ones that survive. And when you are all alone, apart from the millions of insects, and that single antok that lies bleeding at feet, you slash its throat, your family will be eating tonight, the claret flows, you know that you are alive and free. The walk back with the beast on your shoulders is never the best, yet you feel attached to everything, you belong.

When you are locked into a struggle, wrestling with a friend, hunting an antok, or even sparring a friend with training sticks, you can think of nothing else. Your mind is one. It is the purest form of mediation. I've known the jungle ever since I was a boy, I've known of its beauty, I've known of its peril. When Kayishen first spoke of Maylar I knew she spoke the truth. The God who allows the strong to survive, it was the way of my people, the way of Turochlitan, and foremost the way of the jungle.

There was an understanding, I cannot explain it, but it was there. What is discussed in the temple was not discussed outside, not freely. The skinks had their gods, they did not discuss them with us, I did not approach them with the news of Maylar. Why would I? They were happy. I was happy. Every day I prayed to Maylar, I prayed with Kayishen. Through prayer I could achieve that state, when you forget all else.

Kayishen soon explained to me that violence itself was a form of prayer. I already trained with the sticks as much as I could, soon I was training twice as much, I do not know how, but Maylar had chosen me, I could feel his blessing run through my veins. The crack of the stick against your body was usually enough to finish you for the day, but soon I could barely feel it, I let that part of myself behind.

I don't know what inspired me to hunt that day, that red day. We had eaten meat that week yet I felt the urge to hunt, was it Maylar testing me or encouraging me? I still wonder about that. That day I found an antok, and I began to run after it. Some people bring their friends and their spears, but this is not pure, this not the true hunt. I run with a single knife, a single spear, and a Stegadon bladder full of water. That's the key, those that think the hunt goes to the strong are wrong, it goes to the persistent. It goes to the iron will. Antoks are faster than any man, but they are covered with a thick fur, they can only sweat on their nose, meaning they can only cool down through rest. You run after it, and it will flee, but in the oppressive heat of the jungle, it will soon want to stop, and then it will find you still running. This will go on for hours, you do not let it drink, you do not let it rest, when it falters, it will see you. When it stops, it will see you. Hours will pass, you will not stop, you will not let it stop. Eventually it will collapse, it will watch you approach it. You throw the spear into its ankle where there is no meat, this is not to kill it, this is to see if it has anything left. Generally it won't, and the Antok on the red day did not. You walk up to it while it looks at you in the eyes and silently pleads, and you return its gaze so it knows, today I won. You take that knife and slice its throat, you thank Maylar.

On the red day, as soon as I had bled the antok I looked up. I was high and in a clearing, which isn't common in the jungle. I could see the most beautiful site, thousands of lizards, large strong lizards that I had never seen, burning Turochlitan to the ground. The sound of steel on steel, that fat frog blasting bodies with the blink of an eye, those giant lizards slicing the resistance clean in two. I missed out on glorious that day, was that Maylar's punishment for abandoning the sticks, or did he have plans for me? The city was razed to the ground, but still I live, the jungle protects me, the jungle throws what it has at me but I am strong, the jungle knows it, and soon those lizards will know it too.

Continued in The Green Day (part 2)

 

Re: The Red Day

oooh i don't really know where i am going with this.

i love to write stories from the evil characters point of view, i hate the way most villains are portrayed in modern media, pure evil. me, i think that everyone is the hero of his own story. personally i love to fish, train boxing/mma, so i wanted to try to show how someone with normal hobbies could be seduced by khorne.

ps. that method of hunting is a traditional way to hunt antelope in africa, except generally you have some buddies sprint at it first so it tires itself out faster, then they send the long distance runner out.

i would like to write more on this, but i don't have anything planned.... will have to think about it

 

Re: The Red Day

Nice story. It definitely grabbed my interest and made me wonder what will come next.