Lion Head Mesa sinking ships

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Gore, torture of a small animal

Blood had stained his altar for days now. The squirrel he held under his paw twisted and writhed, but the dog did not allow it to stand.

You know what I wish…prince.

Akhtar ground his teeth together.

I do not even know your name.

I would hope you remember your heritage. Otherwise, you could simply ask, you know. The squirrel screamed, a raspy sound, as it whipped around to try and bite Akhtar’s foot. He simply used the other paw to kick it as hard as he dared.

Fine then. Who are you?

You know who I am. But, to satisfy you, I have a name. Verethragna.

Ha! I know that to be a lie! No warrior god would wish for this, for the blood of babes! It would be foolish to believe so!

Believe what you must, rationalize it any way you see fit. I may be Verethragna, or I may be Angra Mainyu or I may even be Ardvi Sura Anahita! You do not know, you cannot tell, for they stole it from you. So, rationalize it. The voice sneered in Akhtar’s floppy ears, as his eyes stared at the squirrel still trapped under his paw, it’s blood fresh upon his altar, as he flashed his teeth and spilled its entrails across the rock. The blood painted his teeth and muzzle.

But you know what you must do, Akhtar Mirzadeh, آخرین نامت، آخرین خونت. So, you shall do it.

The dog stood, poised above the corpse of the squirrel, the sun casting dark shadows across his back, framing his body.

He turned to summon one of the Fellahin, hissing a short order to them.

Bring to me the babes of animal. Fawn, nestling, foal, if you can find it and procure it, alive, bring it to me. If you cannot, bring me their blood.

The sun hit his face.

In the light, his eyes took on the same shade as his bloody altar.