Bronze
As the king vultures circled overhead, Bronze knelt upon the burning sand and tore two strips of cloth from his robe with which to bind his feet. He had stopped sweating two hours ago and had cast off his sword as dead weight the night before. Parched to the bone and completely defenseless, if the heat didn’t kill him before he reached Halandor, the grak dogs would. And that was the last thought Bronze had before he collapsed face down in the sand.
The Giant
The giant grunted as he slung the twisted body of the stranger over his shoulder. Judging by the stranger’s weight, Mingo figured that there was enough meat here to feed him for the next four days. Surely this was another sign from Kale that his destiny lie in Halandor. Mingo had received many signs from Kale over the last several days - indeed, just last night, Kale had delivered unto him a fine sword forged of heavy bronze with which to slay the grak dogs that had hounded him. As the giant made his way back to the nearby oasis, he gave thanks to the Blood God for his bounty.
Laying the stranger’s corpse next to his bedroll, Mingo stepped back to examine his supper. As he stood over the dead man, Mingo marveled at his physical size. Never before had the giant seen a man that so nearly rivaled his own stature. This man must have been a mighty warrior in life, for even as he lie lifeless in the desert sand his bronze muscles commanded attention. Mingo frowned. Muscle tissue made for poor sustenance. Too stringy. He briefly considered the dilemma and then decided that after he was done bathing, he would need to boil some water.
After shaking the sand from his hair, Mingo walked to the edge of the nearby pool of water and stripped off his robes. As the giant stepped into the pool, weeks of tension rolled off of his body, the cool water soothing his sun ravaged skin. As the gentle night breeze blew through the oasis, Mingo’s thoughts again drifted to the dead warrior. What wrong had the bronze man committed that so enraged Kale as to strike him down mere footsteps away from the salvation of the oasis? He surely must have offended the Blood God personally. What manner of warrior, wondered Mingo, would dare challenge a god?
The War God
When he opened his eyes, Bronze found himself staring up at the night sky. Or at least he thought it was the night sky. Disoriented and wracked with pain, Bronze found that he could not sit up. With great effort, he managed to feebly extend his left arm and explore his surroundings. Yes, he was definitely on his back. Raking his fingers through the sand, he stopped when they touched the hilt of his sword. His sword! Yar! Energy and pain surged through his veins as Bronze bolted upright, releasing a mighty howl. This was final judgement!
As Bronze struggled to wrap his fingers around the hilt of his sword, he wondered if it had been the grak dogs or the sun that had finally done him in. No time for that. Yar was near. Bronze cringed as he leaned forward and assumed a crouching position. No fear. If he faced Yar valiantly, the War God would grant him a charge in the great host. Bronze groaned as he tried to gain his feet, his vision blurring. He heard a splash behind him and turned to face the War God who stood black against the pale moon, knee deep in a pool of crimson gore.
The Blood God
Mingo lie floating on his back in the small pool of water, visions of Halandor dancing through his head when, suddenly, the night was pierced by a bloodcurdling wail. Startled, the giant inhaled a mouthful of water as he jerked upright. A gurgling noise issuing forth from his throat, Mingo turned to see the dead man shambling about on the shore. Kale! The zombi was wielding his sword! His mind racing, the giant’s hands fumbled beneath the surface of the pool looking for a weapon, a stone, anything. What had he done to anger the Blood God?
As he watched Kale’s gruesome avatar stumble about, Mingo momentarily considered running naked through the desert in the opposite direction and hoping for the best, but then thought better of it. To die at the hands of the Blood God was a great honor. Or so his people believed. At the moment, Mingo wasn’t so sure he wanted that honor, but if Kale demanded his blood, Mingo knew that sooner or later the god would have it. The giant decided that death was death, no matter when or how it came, and now was as good a time as any to die. With a grunt and a splash, Mingo stood up to face the Blood God.
Clash of the Titans
The Blood God readied his sword, groaning as he shifted from one foot to the other, watching the motionless War God, waiting for the giant in the pool to make the first move. The War God stood motionless, his mouth contorting into a cruel smile as he wondered how to kill something that was already dead. For that single moment, the gentle breeze ceased to blow and time stood still. And then, with two mighty roars, the battle was joined.
The Blood God wailed as he lurched toward the bellowing War God, raising his sword in the air, while the War God bellowed as he ran toward the wailing Blood God, both arms outstretched as if to strangle the foul zombi. As they closed on one another, the Blood God dropped to one knee and rolled forward, his sword aimed at the charging War God’s belly. With surprising speed, the War God knocked the sword aside with his left hand and made to grab the Blood God with his right. Momentarily knocked off balance, the Blood God did the only thing that he could do to avoid the massive hands of the War God - he fell flat on his back.
As the War God stepped over the Blood God’s prostrate avatar, the dead thing groaned, legs suddenly surging upward, corpse muscles rippling, planting both of its feet squarely in the War God’s groin. And with that, the War God bellowed one last time as he fell on top of the already prone Blood God, pinning him firmly to the ground. As the gentle night breeze again began to blow through the oasis, the starry sky far above the desert floor was filled with laughter as Yar and Kale gazed down from the heavens upon their new champions.