Chapter 1: Meleghost The Sneaky
Chapter 1: Meleghost The Sneaky
“A city encircled by a natural wall of stone a hundred feet high. The priests on the Street of Gods preach that below the city is a demon, bound with a thousand silk strings. The demon burns a single string to ash for every sin. No one knows when it was bound, or by whom. To some, the demon is Set, some Cthugha, some with more unpronounceable names. They say that with our iniquities and sins, and our refusal to believe in the Way of something that it will explode, filling the city with fire and brimstone like it has in the time before time.
Every day, those priests hoard their riches, their silk robes, and the vitalest of waters. So it is said that when one sacrifices to a priest the demon has another silk string laid upon it through the God’s blessings, whoever they might be.
I, however, know better. There might be a bound demon, but as much as the silk-clad priests strut with their money, their horses*, their mansions, I see more so called sin than sacrifice. I grew up with it; the facile serving of those such as the followers of Yig, whom the females let snakes ride around inside themselves and claim the demon is poisoned through their bodies.
Or perhaps the hedonistic practices of the followers of Baal-sothoth, with their goat demons and bestial rites. No, I see no bound demon in those rites other than the dark things they summon from the outer dark. Nothing below but distant heat.
How would I know, do you ask? For I follow Bel, he who guides my hand. He makes no pretence to anything bar those who have the ability to take, take. His hand cuts through those lies. For I have seen inside all of the temples, the most sacred… or profane… rituals. I have seen under the city, it’s passages and catacombs filled with the death-stink of charnel rites and burning silk. I took what was theirs, and is now mine. When the fat weaklings protested, I was no bound victim to be desecrated. I killed them. My arrows in their heart; my blade through their neck, my hands around their throats. The blood pouring from their fat bellies as they gasp and choke with beckoning eyes. I know it well.
So, that is I, Meleghost. Out people, known archers and woodsmen, but prey to those who steal both mind and body. But I see little else in my travels. The ignorant are misused.
But don’t get me wrong. I don’t take or kill those who have not done me wrong. I don’t take from those with nothing, not simply because they have nothing. For I was that, once; street kid, orphan, starving. The blue rings under your arms, see behind my ear – the growth of the poor.
So I was taken in, by a bunch of misfits and prophets at a young age. A woman, possessed of the voice of Bel deemed worthy and me fit; she made me her apprentice. I learned early the skills of the pickpocket and street-thief, but I was too capable. At thirteen, she took me to her bed and showed me the arts of dealing with women; lies and misdirection. And when we stole off to the towers of Set, or many others, she showed me the art of killing.
Eventually, I killed her. It was her way. I took what was hers and killed her, assuming Bel would choose me as his Prophet. But such was it; her belief made her prophet. I cared little for gods that used me. Bel rejected me; the ritual was aborted, and I plunged to the streets below. But He obviously had plans; for while I escaped the steel and quick, choking death of the streets, I stand here, in the north, because of that. My principles stand; take what I wish, kill those who deserve death, and one day… become something greater than sneak-thief or murderer.”
*Closest approximation to the 6 legged insect one must ride in that region.
