1 Chapter I - A Silver Womb

Blood flowed into Warren's right eye, blinding him and making it sting painfully, and his left eye quivered with anxiety. Tears were mixing with the mud that covered his face, the muck nearly covered his face from falling into the mud, as he fled into the forest. Unable to brace his falls because he was cradling his stomach with both hands to keep his intestines from falling out; Warren hoped he would find someone that could help him, he didn't want to die. Dying he thought would be the end for him, an eternity of thoughtless non-existence.

Fear of that fate drove him further into Golgotha Woods; the more ground he covered the more blood he lost from his open gash in his guts and forehead that cut right to the bone. The growls of his pursuers terrified him more than his insides falling out, that compelled him to clutch his stomach tighter and push on faster. Mannibles lead by Judas Khan had razed his town of South Water to the ground, butchering the residents like pigs to be devoured. All those who escaped had to flee on wide open flatlands with no cover, making them easy prey to be hunted down by those crazed horrors.

They dammed up the river so they could cross the only barrier that protected the town from the unholy abominations, they were told for decades they were safe because mannibles couldn't cross running water. Such naivety cost the people of South Water their lives, except for Warren who broke the towns taboo of entering the forest to the north, he saw it as his only chance to flee from the carnage. A haunting paranoia filled Warren's mind the moment he saw the eyes of Judas Khan, since then he always pictured them upon him, constantly watching him falling down and getting up as he tried to escape into the dense forest. With his own eyes Warren watched as Judas devoured his father whole, then sliced his mother apart whose sacrifice protected Warren from the worst of Judas's frenzied attack.

Seeing his mother being cut into pieces in front of him imprinted in his mind, but even with her sacrifice his insides were spilling out and he was running out of blood. Thoughts of surrendering to death were tempting him, but the memories of Judas's eyes were driving him to move forward. Not many would escape Judas once he sets his eyes on them, but fortunately the church collapsed in flaming wreckage separating Judas from his intended prey. Fleeing right then Warren went to the one place he knew he had a chance to escape, unlike the others of his town who believe in the curse of the forest. Warren however was different from them, he feared death more than the haunting stories of Golgotha Woods, he didn't believe in the religion of the Bloody Christ like everyone in town, he thought it was tripe.

Always skeptical Warren never believed anything without evidence, truth he believed was not associated with blind faith. Becoming winded Warren felt his body slowing due to the loss of blood and the chill of death freezing him to the bone. Distant sounds of his town being burned down and the slaughter of the townspeople were almost silenced in his mind by the sounds of pursuit. Snapping branches, feet stamping on moist forest ground, all seemed to be coming right behind him at a insane pace. Madly he sped in the forestry that became thicker with each struggling step, as the sound of his hunters grew more audible, snarls and footfalls drowned out his heartbeat.

Even Warren's heart was muted by the sounds, that sent him into a frenzied charge, fleeing for his life, but in his haste he tripped over an exposed tree root. Falling face first onto moss covered soil as he guarded his exposed innards, dust filling his lungs making him cough loudly as pieces of him fell out of his grasp. Blood poured from his wound, staining his hands dark red, trying to rise to his feet he fell onto his knees in agony. The pain was crippling and escaping his pursuers with his life seemed utterly hopeless, but the fear of eternal nothingness gave Warren the strength to rise up and limp onwards.

"Don't fear your death," said a voice in Warren's head.

Assuming the voice was conjured by his mind that been driven into madness he paid it no heed, slowly he moved on through low hanging branches. Then he stopped because he saw utter blackness through the foliage. He could see nothing, smell nothing, the feel of blood and guts in his hand vanished. Warren heard nothing, his hard breathing and even his hunters were silent, fear gripped him as he felt he was under someone else's control. Compelled to walk forward, Warren took a final step and stopped by his sense of self preservation; his foot was on the edge of a steep slope.

Before he was forced to take a step into the black abyss the perpetual silence came to an end, sounds suddenly came back. Before he could react a rock hard hand gripped his shoulder so tightly it shattered the bone. Screams of anguish escaped his lips as he was slammed into the ground by a mannible. In the dim light of their torches he saw them cut off his arms, as they mutilated him everything started to spin, pain numbed, and when he screamed nothing came out, because they split open his rib cage and yanked out his lungs.

Death didn't come to Warren quickly, during his last moments alive he looked around hoping for a miracle, perhaps angel sent by the gods to help him, looking up however all he saw were the bloodied mouths of the mannibles who ate his flesh. Unable to breathe, he gasped for air as he was being torn apart, Warren desperately struggled for life. Death finally came as his vision blackened, then a mannible pulled out a short sword and sliced off Warren's head from his neck to enjoy the soft face meat by himself.

First however the mannible put his large fat lips to the left eye and sucked it out of it's socket, then chewed it loudly before swallowing. Then before he could take a bite from from the face the mannible shuddered, feeling as as if his insides were struck by lightning. A power had taken control of him, forcing him to obey. Subverting the mannibles desire to consume the head, the power made the mannible walk through the foliage just as the other mannibles were finishing eating.

Holding the head by the hair the mannible stood at the edge of a deep pit that Warren stood at the edge of not too long ago, the blood on the ground where he stood was still wet. Another mannible tried to snatch the head but before he could wrap his long fingers around the head it was thrown into the pit below. Disappearing into the blackness the head was beyond reach, the flesh craving mannible gave out a miserable cry then returned to the others as they prepared to move out, but not before whacking the mannible who wasted a delicious head. The mannible didn't respond to the blow, remaining still as he was left waiting on a command that would never come, the other mannibles noticed their comrade wasn't moving.

After some jeers and stabbing him with a blade they saw he wasn't responding, so they decided to leave him, alone in the dark of the forest. The mannible did not move, did not think, he was trapped in a moment of anticipation where everything was still until he heard a order that would never be given. A once feared predator was made immobile until his body centuries later rotted into nothingness. Down at the bottom of the pit what was left of Warren was laying in the mud, till it was picked up by a small man.

A man with a face with no eyelids, nose, or lips. Dark grey skin tightly clung to the man's thick bones, resembling a walking corpse; putrid smells stuck closely to him wherever he went. Aswang was his name, clutching the head Aswang ran through the large stone doorway of his master's crypt, made of blackened rock the crypt was made to honor Kashchev. A avatar who lived centuries ago and upon his passing was laid in a crypt filled with his valued treasures and talismans.

Running while he dragged his left leg Aswang passed malformed skeletons that lined the walls the entry hallway, the skeletons were leaned against the walls of the crypt. Eternal crimson firelight from the braziers built into the rock cast a glow that danced with the darkness. The braziers were kept alight by black ichor, a substance that would burn for eternity if never disturbed, guiding Aswang in his duties to his master throughout the years. Even as his peers laid down to their final rest, giving up on their vows to Kashchev he lingered on, even as his master's body died.

Aswang the last of Kashchev's servants stayed in his master's service, like all of Kashchev's loyal servants Aswang was made by the avatar's own hands to render faithful service even in death. That was an obligation that Aswang's brothers ignored to his contempt. Frantic, limping, steps echoed through the halls of the crypt, for Aswang eager to please his master having completed another task. Almost falling over himself Aswang in his haste, he slowed his pace as he approached his master's giantantic coffin.

"Master," said Aswang, trembling as he clutched the mutilated head "I retrieved what you asked for."

***

"They killed me," Chernobelo said.

A fetus still forming in his womb, stirring in the restriction of his small universe. Conscious thought popped into his mind so suddenly he forgot what it was like to be before being. Memories of two lives were there for him to relive, blind and barely mobile the living god looked upon the memories of the lives that started his genesis. Contrasting one another like night and day it was a wonder how two very different lives joined, Chernobelo regardless recognized them as his father's.

Predecessors whose existence ended to create a new ego, though if the living god had to choose which one he admire most if was Kashchev. Memories played of him being a warlord of great power, a Avatar of his time before the mountain gods, before he was laid to rest and his name and accomplishments were forgotten in history. Whatever legends and ghostly tales that took inspiration from Kashchev had long since lost the grains of truth. Even forgotten his legacy was immortalized in his tomb house deep underground, guarded by his last servant Aswang, a living doll breathed live who had sworn fealty to his master and now his offspring.

Thoughts of Kashchev unwillingly wanting himself to die out entirely formed a plan to allow apart of himself to live on eternally. Creating a living god within a enchanted cauldron and silver ichor, all that was needed was material, one human remains with the soul still bound and Kashchev's skeletal remains, where his conscious mind still resides. Broken down to their essence by Silver Ichor in the Cauldron Schaffung, inside of which formed a womb of silver. Inside the womb Chernobelo formed, grew and matured for centuries.

During the moments he realized he was alive and named himself Chernobelo was getting ready to be born, inside the crypt the caldron stood at the foot of a giant stone coffin. Black iron legs rattled against the stone floor, hopping and steaming the ichor womb was bubbling over the cauldron, then evaporating into vapor. Aswang the last and most loyal servant of Kashchev came to the to the cauldron when he heard the sounds of it banging off the ground echoing in the halls of the crypt. Dashing on his heavy limp the living doll hurried to be at the side of one who would call master, so long he spent taking care of his former master's crypt.

Obeying centuries old commands, but that would change, he was to follow his new master, serve him as if he was serving Kashchev. Strong leadership to obey was all he ever wanted in his existence, all his brethren rot in the halls of the crypt, giving up their sacred tasks. Embracing oblivion rather than wait for a new master, at times Aswang dreamed to go to his final rest, but he was not detoured for he now stood in the awe of his new master. Standing at the cauldron the gruesome faced doll looked at it and found it empty, a pile of silver ichor was evaporating into nothing at it's side.

Looking about Aswang feared he missed his master, that was until he heard the screech of metal, turning his head he saw sparks along with screeching metal coming from inside the coffin. Climbing over the high sides of Kashchev's coffin he peered over and saw lying there a man made completely of black metal. Shiner than black iron, but just as black and strong looking, he was going to announce himself when he was wrapped suddenly by lightning quick ribbons. Made of thin metal they shot out from the metal man's body and wrapped around Aswang, then with a sharp pull dragged him into muscular metal arms.

One good eye of Aswang saw up close the face of his master, which it say there wasn't really one, what was there was a skull. In the eternal blood red fires of the brazier Aswang saw the face of his master, it didn't scare him or surprise him, he held it in reverence as his previous master.

"As-" started to speak the living god, "Aswa-" but he couldn't form words.

Despite having knowledge beyond his short time alive, he was still held back by his immature mind, Aswang started to realize that as he sensed a neediness with his master.

"Aswang," Chernobelo was finally able to speak out "I am Chernobelo."

Sitting up in the coffin the metal god allowed Aswang to stand up to meet one anothers faze, there was no animosity between them, but there was a disturbance. Expecting more from his master Aswang didn't understand how juvenile his new master was at that point.

"I'm glad to finally meet you," the living god continued, having a firm grasp on vocalizing his thoughts.

"As I am to meet you master Chernobelo," said Aswang.

Memories of the word master came to Chernobelo's mind, seeing how Kashchev treated Aswang made him unhappy. Being born into the world like all newborns despite his vast knowledge wanted someone to hold onto, to love and care for him unconditionally. Sadly he found nothing of the sort, in his grief he crawled till he could stand up and went into Kashchev coffin to lay. Curling up in his stone crib Chernobelo felt dismayed that there was noone there for him, till he saw Aswang, instinctively his body shot out ribbons of metal from his body and pulled the doll to him.

No memories of any other family were in his mind, Warren's family was all dead, and Kashchev only had his short lived mortal servants and his living dolls. Sadly among those memories was something else that made his chest tighten, becoming envious at the idea that he had no mother. Both Warren and Kashchev in the early memories they would have long forgotten were images of red haired women with bright green eyes holding their babies. A benefit they both had at birth that Chernobelo was denied, a bitter sense of loss formed inside the metal god.

"Master may I get you anything?" asked Aswang.

A screeching sound came from Chernobelo's body, Aswang looked at his master and saw his body was comprised of thousands of metal ribbons that bound his body.

"Don't call me that again," chastised Chernobelo "call me by my name. I don't want you to consider me your master. We're family, your the only one I've got."

Desperate to hold onto that thread that kept him from being totally alone the metal god held onto Aswang, refusing to ease his tight grip. Completely taken aback by this development Aswang didn't know what to say or think, his entire existence was to serve his master. Never a word of thanks or affection was shown to him, Aswang didn't respect the affect his new master showed him, he thought it weak. Unable to dismiss Kashchev's commands he would keep to his vow, and would punish himself later for not holding his new master in higher respects.

"Mast-" Aswang stopped himself missentenced.

Sighing Aswang would have to punish himself twice as hard for that slip of the tongue.

"Chernobelo," he continued "please allow me to get you some garments from among your many treasures."

Confused by the offer Chernobelo asked "why?"

There was a moment of silence as Aswang didn't want to disrespect his master by pointing out that although his body was metal, it was however based on the male form. That included a larger than average male genitals made of hard metal.

"I would find it easier to serve you if you were dressed," Aswang admitted feeling shame for the disrespect he was showing for his master.

Feeling no anger at Aswang, Chernobelo instead gave him an affectionate hug.

"Don't worry Aswang, if it make your uncomfortable I'll get dressed." he said.

Climbing out of the coffin the metal god waited for Aswang to follow and they both went down the halls of the crypt, passing many vaults and chambers filled with a horde of treasures. Stopping at one particular one that was filled with clothes made of enchanted fabrics from long dead civilizations.

"Come inside, and look upon your treasures Chernobelo." Aswang said, encouraging his new master to bask in the bounty of his previous life.

Looking at the array of colors and designs of the garments in the chamber, Chernobelo wasn't really impressed, as the angelic glow of the fabrics lit up the dark it was nothing spectacular. Having spent centuries relieving memories of Kashchev's life in the womb he knew the history of everything in the crypt, knowing what they did and how they were obtained. All that did was make the strange and unusual seem familiar and mundane. Pretending to be interested Chernobelo played naive to encourage Aswang to act more affectionate towards him, as he presented clothes for him to wear.

Nothing at first proved to be to the living gods tastes as he wanted the freedom of nudity, which classed with Aswang's desire for his master to be modest. Those two opposite thoughts met at a compromise, when Aswang presented his master with blue robes with gold embroidery. They were loose enough for Chernobelo to be less constrained and be able to use his metal ribbons though the wide sleeves, and it'd cover up his nudity. Musculary sculpted metal body was covered by the light feeling garment which although did not glow or was enchanted like the rest, was made of unnaturally durable material.

Made with such skill the robes lasted centuries and would most likely for centuries more, before leaving the chamber Chernobelo saw something that caught his eye. Shimmering gold in the light of the garments was a golden sun mask, it seemed simply ornamental at first so much so Aswang took little heed to it, but noticed it as his master picked it up. Words of haunted spirits dwelling inside the mask whispered in the subconscious of Chernobelo, offering him desires that he was unaware about, without a thought he put the mask on his face. Realizing what mask it was Aswang was a little worried for his new master, the mask came from the west, even Kashchev didn't know it's true power.

Though his master believed it harmless of someone of strong will it made the doll wonder how strong was his new master's will. Doubting his master meant that Aswang would have to imposes a stiffer punishment on himself when he was done serving his master for the time being.

"Lord Chernobelo," said Aswang "do you like that mask?"

"Don't call me lord," scolded Chernobelo.

Feeling the mask on his face was as if it was naturally his own, every edge of it, even the tips of the sun beams he could feel as though it was his own metal skin. Tracing his fingers along the mask tickled, turning to face Aswang with his mask caused the little man to recoil.

` "Your eyes," said Aswang "you have eyes."

Before there was nothing but empty sockets on Chernobelo's skull face, putting on the mask gave him eyes of black metal, shaped and designed to resemble a human eye.

"Show me," Chernobelo said.

Leading his master to another chamber he showed him a mirror that showed he had eyes, and when he turned his head slightly he saw the back of his head had long strands of hair. Matching the color of his skin, the hair was soft and silky, the mask made him more human in appearance.

"Aswang, I look-" he was unable to finish his words, Chernobelo was beyond overjoyed with the changes.

Eagerly he went out of the chamber and went down the halls of the crypt to the entrance, Aswang hopped behind him on his one good leg.

"Master where are you going?"

"Don't call me master," said Chernobelo sternly "we're family call me anything else but lord or master."

"Yes, but please tell where are you going?" ask Aswang.

Standing at the entrance to the crypt, where two large black iron doors stood firmly closed, the metal god grabbed their massive handles and flung them open. A lot had changed over the centuries, the ground around the pit had receded and heavy brush, large towering trees, and thick vines grew all around the dense landscape. Early morning sunlight shone through the thick canopy of trees, cutting through the darkness of the forest.

"I want to meet people," Chernobelo said "show me where I can find lots of people."

Again worry came to the living dolls mind as he imagined scenarios where Chernobelo would be taken advantage of or cause commotion for other people. It was so long ago when Aswang himself went out of the crypt for supplies, but the last time was a decade ago in a town close to a river. The people there were river folk, hard people, some might be pretty keen on snatching Chernobelo's golden mask. Placing a little hand on his belt he felt the long sharp dagger he kept there, visions of slit throats came into Aswang's mind.

Anyone to cause his master discomfort would have their life ended soon after.

"There is a town not far from here, as I remember it's to the north east, please follow me" Aswang said.

Closing the heavy iron doors behind them the little man guided the living god through the dense forest to the town so his master could walk among the mortals. While travelling there heard the distance rumblings of thunder that seemed to come closer towards them.