Rituals

In a land on a distant unknown part of the world there exists a tribe that lives in the jungle. Their customs are centered around the jungle, their ways are derived by it, and their lives revolve around it.

It has given them strange wisdom.

For example, in the jungle when one eats they consume what they must and discard what they mustn't. They learn to taper their greed early in life because if they do not, if they take too much when they should've taken less, they will be swallowed by something that they could've avoided otherwise.

A primal lesson.

A jungle's wisdom.

Another piece of wisdom they learn from the jungle is how to treat the dead. For the jungle does not let one simply pray over their loved ones for long, if they did they would have to fight predator, bug and parasite for dominion of the body. Such fighting wouldn't allow for a good prayer, in fact it would allow for a terrible one, full of violent memories where their should be remembrance of a good ones.

And so. When one dies in this jungle, they gather around , give the dead a few final wishes and bury them before their body turns cold.

A strange note to add, is that many times to keep predators from consuming the body after it is buried, and buy enough time for its loved ones to give well wishes, a strange scent will be added atop the grave.

Sometimes it is lavender.

Sometimes mint.

And sometimes it is shit.

The Wizard Jelawi thought fondly as he remembered the days of his youth , then turned his gaze full of deep primal intelligence to the scene before him with a quirked brow.

He supposed in a way this was the same.

"Keep pissing boys! Let's send this bastard to the hells with style! "

Nine men stood in a circle with knickers around their ankles and their 'unsheathed swords' pointing at a short man with holes in his chest and a fire beneath lapping away at his flesh.

Together they rained liquid gold upon his head.

"This is what we do to guys like him, Sad Eyes."

"A piss head deserves to go to the hells smelling like one, ay! "

"Your finally right about something ay Mot. "

"Every once in awhile you say something good too Georgey."

"Bwahahahahha. "

"Bwahahahahha."

They had pissed on Jack on and off for two hours now. Only stopping to drink more liquor for refueling to go back to pissing.

All of the men had taken thier turn.

They drunk heavily for the task, a second coming of the party from earlier that night except with an additional head.

For it wouldn't do to leave Sad Eyes away from this one.

The boy had drunk the abominal liquid like a champ.

The Wizard Jelawi observed the boys snotty nose and eyes still red with tears in curiosity. Indeed the boy did pout, drag his feet and keep his eyes in a permanent fixture of depression.

But he had heart.

And now, with as his people would call it , a ritual of blood upon him he expected a change in the boy. A change that even now he could see the beginning of only hours later. His eyes had a firmness to them that they didn't before.

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A slight shift that turned his once downtrodden image into more. ....And he could swear when he looked real close he could see it, a ... something that was there that shouldn't be.

But there was no way, no way a boy co-

"Jelawi, your cup is empty and it's fouling my mood. Drink mage. "

A sloshing cup of mead made way its his fingers as a large bronze man threw his arm upon him.

The Captain's breath smelled of the burning water, but his eyes were clear.

"Drink now. It is the job of the living to drink. For the dead cannot. " The Captain finished his statement with a large burp and pulled his bottle to his lips. In three gulps it was down.

"ALRIGHT!" His voice boomed over the boisterous yells, gambles and rumbles.

"It's time to shut it down. We leave as soon as the first sun hits the sky's middle. "

Slight drunken noise responded but was shut down with a stare.

"Sad eyes." He said, looking toward the boy who despite the festivity of the evening was still pissing.

The boy turned, his body swaying as he tried his best to stand still.

The Captain did a small clamp on his jaw that only two present knew was his way to keep from laughing. He breathed out slowly before he began.

"Everything Jack owned is yours, Sad Eyes. His loot,his boots, his coin, his clothes, and this. " He pulled out a smooth scratch-less blade and a sheath with a leather strap.

"A proper man needs a proper sword. " He held them out in front of him.

The boy walked slowly and sloppily , but eventually he made it and with one smooth motion that overtook his current lapse of motor skills , the sword was free of its rope.

The boy dropped the rusty blade in the dirt and yanked the rope from his waist, and took his new blade.

It weighed heavy in his arms, a decently solid chunk of steel much better than he had come to know. With eyes that had a hint of water he put it through a loop of his pants and looked at himself in awe.

"We welcome a new member to the devilish brigands today. Sad Eyes the Man Slayer! "

And so the brigands roared , a roar that would last for minutes before they would pass out into a deep sleep.

All except the Wizard Jelawi whose eyes were painted to the horizon.

A frown painted his lips as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, his inner vision looking further than possible for any natural born man. All of a sudden they snapped forward, and blood leaked from his nose.

Something amiss was going on deep in the desert, something even he could not see. He scratched his head and remembered a lesson from the forest, what would be would be.

Interlude.1 -Blood Lizard

Far, far away group a group of drunk brigands, past the sandy plains, over a large mountain, and beyond a graveyard full of the living a creature has been born.

With his first scan he knew the world. The civilization, the society, the culture, the era , the people , the love , the hate , the thoughts, the feelings, everything.

Everything that compromised the human race.

Every Way to bring them to their end.

He would cascade rivers of blood upon their people. Pull the ground from beneath their feet and make mountains with their breathless bodies.

But why?

Why would he do such a thing?

He did not know.

Why would his creator bestow this mission upon him. Such destruction. Such pain. Such misery. For what?

These people seemed to think that their creator was all good ...but to create a creature like himself.

Something had to have went ary.

So he made a decision.

He would leave this earthly realm behind. He would discard these plans before he made evil a reality. He would demonstrate a courage to go against all that his mind tried to convince him he was.

And with a pop his head was gone. The crusader no more.

A couple unseen entities tilted thier eyes at each other in puzzlement, then raised their eyebrows in question, what would they do now?

The headless body disappeared and the unseen tensed up.

If the body was gone that could only mean the ones up top had taken him back. Why? What took place in the heavens they wondered.

With a sigh they floated away.

The rocky plain that was the stage for the death of the crusader lay silent. With a pitter patter of tiny feet a small lizard entered the scene. He waddled up to a pool of blood made by a pop and tentatively took a step. His toe landing in a splat.

Dark red lines leaped from the blood and entangled the reptile, pulling him in and wrapping him with strange leaping tendrils of blood, it continued until he vanished within a red cocoon.

Then it cracked. And out a strange new creature walked, empowered with the knowledge to end an entire species.....

The blood lizard.