Ashes For Your Mouth
"KALDUGUM KUNUK AMELSERRUDAKU. M'lak TAMU DAMAQLU, Elidam obeyed...good." A rough, breathy voice carried on a wave of malodorous air reverberated around a naked, blood-covered man in a slave collar. He knelt before a crude wooden carving with rough horns vaguely perceptible on its rectangular head. The voice came from M'lak, the entity which, a few days ago, Osk had proclaimed his friend and fellow god, along with one other. They had declared their sympathy and intention to raise these people up out of their hopeless circumstance, or rather Osk had done so for them. The two entities in question hadn't personally shown up, leading to some skepticism among the slave populace.
It couldn't be helped. Osk didn't want to scare the people of the tribes away by the frightening visages of the two demons. It was the best way to avoid giving away their true nature, and to slowly and inconspicuously gather followers. Elidam, the man currently kneeling in a pool of blood, had been one of the few to attempt reaching out to one of the two with a makeshift altar. To his surprise and delight, he received an answer and a promise.
The demon M'lak had difficulty with human language; in fact, demons in general had trouble vocalizing. They were naturally telepathic. M'lak's messages always came out with sensible words scrambled together with an abyssal tongue that, until now, Elidam couldn't quite grasp. As for why he could mostly understand now, he had fulfilled his dreadful pact with the demon. The altar before the carving presented a small charred skeleton, its jaw locked into a screaming pose as it lay in a pile of ash, the remnants of the poor innocent immolated upon it.
After the sacrifice, M'lak spoke to his new believer. Roughly translated, the demon's words here were, '(Dark)/Crown priest, sealed by your child's murder, I, M'lak, made you swear an oath of (child) sacrifice, and you, Elidam, obeyed...good."
"It is Elidam's great honor, oh mighty M'lak." Elidam praised in a smooth, yet slightly unhinged tone. "And... the reward?" The prostrated head of the man tilted slightly upwards with hope.
"Elidam... MIT'ZERU. M'lak SHEBSUM, by title KALDUGUM Amelserrudaku."
'Elidam is (cursed to) dying. I, M'lak, call/(change) you by the title Crown Priest Amelserrudaku.' M'lak instructed, giving Elidam a new name and title for his current purpose.
"INA FEKASUM- the reward," M'lak corrected himself, "M'lak TALAMA, will bestow, to KALDUGUM, NGA MIGERETU. More so, Amelserrudaku will abound with NGA KARMU ZUMRULA for SARTI, for life." M'lak's tone attempted gentility and failed miserably, but the former Elidam, in his fanaticism, found it pleasant and welcoming.
"How can I be certain?" the man now named Amelserrudaku felt overwhelmed by excitement and anticipation. He felt he wouldn't be deprived of his reward, but he needed a guarantee to calm his nerves.
"PALAQIS, but don't doubt M'lak. INISKIM, you will know. DU DIMTU, to Mammon. He will have HURASKAN INISU." M'lak's voice commanded from the ether with a proud, authoritative temperament. A flash of fire consumed the skeleton upon the altar, along with the crude carving, reducing them to ash. The heavy, oppressive presence of the pretender god was felt no longer.
Amelserrudaku shakily rose to his feet, and gently blew at the ash on the altar, clearing it away. "Thank you, M'lak." he whispered. Perhaps, if his understanding of the abyssal tongue was clearer, if he had the mind of a demon that could say and understand three things with one word, he might not be so grateful.
Amelserrudaku looked at the empty place where his carving once stood. "With this money from Mammon I'll be able to make a metal one. Maybe then they'll stop burning away," Amelserrudaku muttered wishfully as he headed towards a bath to wash off his bloody body. His son that he had killed never crossed his mind.
...
Rygald, god of spirits and undead, lingered in the dark, underground cavern that was his preferred retreat for solitude. He liked to sit in the total darkness and think about various things, asking to himself questions the other gods often derided him for mentioning aloud. Things like, 'Are a domain and an authority fundamentally different, or just a matter of scale?' or, 'How a does a demon think and act without existing?' Since he could not share these thoughts with his narrow-minded pantheon, he would come here and brood over these abstract ideas. One could say he was the philosopher of the gods.
Rygald was currently contemplating what it meant to be a higher existence, and whether it was even possible to raise one's existence outside the paths of authority. As he had his green eyelids closed in concentration, a hazy blue light filtered beneath them, growing brighter. Rygald snapped his eyes open at the intrusion, to notice a small spirit rushing towards him with all haste.
"Grim One!" The spirit screamed with a high-pitched, pained, and terrified wailing. "Protect me, please!" The little ghostly being, arriving before Rygald, clung tightly to his leg.
Rygald looked at the spirit closely. It appeared to be a young boy, perhaps six or seven by the time of his death. "Worry not, little one." Rygald spoke soothingly. "Down here, the Demon King's clouds wont swallow you."
The little spirit shook his head fiercely, still clinging tightly to the robe by Rygald's calf. "A monster is chasing me." Ghostly tears dripped from the boys eyes, dissipating as soon as they reached the open air.
"A monster?" Rygald's nose crinkled in confusion. Material beings shouldn't be able to enter his underground lair, nor threaten the bawling spirit by his feet. He scanned their surroundings, his eyes unhindered by the darkness. He couldn't perceive any presence, living, dead, or divine. He didn't let down his guard though. "Just stay by me," Rygald told the boy. "None in here may take a spirit without my permission."
The child spirit calmed down slightly, nodding. Then, from above them, the darkness broke open with a sharp 'crack!' and through the jagged gap that appeared, a dense, grey fog could be seen. The air in the underground cavern rushed into the space beyond like a vacuum. "DAZIMU NGA RUGUMMUM." The loud, guttural voice of M'lak leaked through the crack.
"He isn't yours, non-thing!" Shouted Rygald, as he struggled to keep himself and the child's spirit from being sucked through the rift, causing skeletal arms to rise from the ground to brace them. "In this place, my domain over spirits is immutable!" Even as the air rushed past, throwing his long dark hair around in his face and pulling at his robes, Rygald held a proud posture.
"SU NGA DAMAQLU!" M'lak bellowed, shaking both his and their surroundings. "NGA KALDUGUM MANDATTSU NMALLILACK! SU RIKANSTU!" M'lak was so enraged he didn't even bother shortening his florid, pompous name.
Rygald looked to the boy fearfully clutching onto him with terror reflected in his own eyes. The boy was a sacrifice? The god of spirits and undead shuddered in horror and disgust. "By what right do you claim sacrifices and make contracts?" Rygald snarled with a venomous tone as he felt rage begin to overwhelm him.
M'lak's tone calmed and took on a tinge of arrogance, "INA PARSEMUQ. INA ILUMUQ. INA ANUDNATI BELAMUQ." By right of worship, by right of godhood, by right of the ruler of this world. These were the words that M'lak intoned full of conviction and confidence. His faith in the Demon King was strong.
Rygald, however, just sneered. "Godhood? Who would ever call a lesser thing like you god?"
Laughter echoed from beyond the split in darkness. "IQBUM BELIL."
"Osk?" Rygald's eyes wavered, but he quickly dug back in. "Regardless of your claims, I won't let you have this child."
Suddenly, from inside the chest of the boy's spirit, a red hot glow erupted, as runic lines of abyssal script flowed from the red core all around the child's spirit form. They formed lines like chains, pulling at his little ghostly limbs in attempt to bind him.
The boy struggled intently, and Rygald placed his palm on the boys chest, a dark light contrasting against the red as he tried to revert the contractual claim M'lak had initiated with his power over dead spirits. "M'lak! I won't let you win! You're just a demon! Nothing! Nothing at all!" The red core swelled like a pulsing heart, sending a wave of heat at Rygald's palm.
The heatwave seared Rygald's green, desiccated hand and he cried out in agony, but he refused to give up. His dark light doubled in size within the spirit's chest, and the boy screamed from the pressure of his inner struggle.
"M'lak SETUL," M'lak replied. "M'lak GURUVUM SAR SETUL." M'lak's tone as he mentioned SAR SETUL was brimming with awe.
'Sar Setul? King Nothing?' Rygald's weary mind, even as he struggled against M'lak's pull on the dead child, strayed to this musing. 'No, King of Nothing.' As he gradually lost ground against the pulsing red light, Rygald's hand burst into flame from the heat, lighting up the rocky underground. Rygald, however, kept his burning hand in place on the spirit's chest, emanating the dark light that kept the boy from total bondage until his other hand could take its place. When he placed his second hand, the first fell into ash.
"Who is Sar Setul, King of Nothing? Who rules the demons?" Rygald roared in pain, anger, and fear.
"SAR SETUL LA SAR SETUL. AZMADAS LA SAR SETUL. SAR SETUL DALKHU SARRUM." When these last words rumbled out from beyond, Rygald's other hand burnt to ash as well and the spirit of the dead child flashed through the opening, to quick for the eye to follow.
"Please, help me!" The boy screamed before he disappeared forever in the bowels of nothingness, the tear in the darkness re-sealing itself.
"Nmallilack!" This time it was Rygald too enraged to shorten the demon's name, but there was no sign left either of him nor of the spirit boy. Rygald unleashed a primal cry and stamped his foot, causing the underground cavern to quake, the earth below splitting and the rocks above falling. The sacrificing of human lives, let alone children, for divine favor was unprecedented and repulsive. Truly something a demon would think of. 'No, perhaps...'
Rygald mused over the final words of M'lak before gasping. If he was right, that cryptic wording meant the Demon King now ruled the demons of the universe. "I have to talk to Osk!" He darted out from the cavern, rupturing the grassy plain beneath which he lay, and startling a few roaming gryzocerouses "Our people can not fall to the Demon King." Rygald firmly made this vow before making his way rapidly to the temple of the leader of the six gods, Osk.