"It's called blood, you goddamn moron."
The huge man, clad in a tattered robe, torn on the right side and barely clinging but by a few strands on his left, was crouched over in the sand, clutching his hands and staring at the red stains that were smeared across his fingers and palm. He was at a loss for words and it was as if he could hardly believe his eyes."
The voice in his head laugh sinisterly and mocked him. "If you were half as earthly as you said you were, you'd know that. Up there sitting on your high cloud as if you were some fucking duke. He he he, how does it feel, Haelo, to realize the blood on your hands?" The voice laughed again.
Haelo, as he'd been called, clenched his fists and buried them in the hot sand, washing the redness away with the rocks and dust and sloshing it too and fro. The heat inevitably got to him and he pulled them away. Sweat was running down his back and his black leather leggings weren't doing so well to keep him cool. "Shut up! Shut up, Maelzedek. This is your fault and you know it. Let the gods be damned if you didn't give me that blind rage. They were just thieves anyway."
"Yes, just thieves. Nobody would miss them anyway. And besides, they deserved it. Trying to take that mighty weapon of yours and all, as if they could really cart it away anyhow. That thing's heavier than a goddamned boulder." Maelzedek growled a little, irritated from sitting here in the dirt like so, but there was little he could do against the sudden growth of power Haelo had. Always when he was like this, he gained control over the one fleshy vessel they shared. Oh, how he longed to tear free and wreak havoc on the world in his own hellish form.
Haelo looked around at the bodies that surrounded them, bandits cloaked in fancy headwraps to protect them form the sun, though that was really useless now. They were such crude things, these limbed figures which some no longer had, and wielded clumsy, useless weapons that failed them. They were humans no doubt, tanned and burned in their faces and especially around their eyes. He didn't feel remorse or regret as he thought he would. Murder was beneath him, yet he didn't understand why suddenly he didn't fly to take back his weapon himself. He had felt something darker creep over him and he'd slain the bastards as if they were such tiny things.
Haelo finally stood and burned internally at the hate he held for the demon inside of him, that fed off his brooding and sorrow. But he knew that he would be worthless if he couldn't fix his own problems. Dusting off the sand that clung to his clothes he breathed hard and headed over a dune before reaching his spear that was strewn in the struggle. It was a large weapon, looking light even in its five and a half foot length. It had a weighty pommel in the back to counterbalance the larger blade in the front that was held down by a rounded tube-like structure that was embedded with studs. It gleamed slightly and the weight was lighter than the cloth on his shoulder. He held it steadily and viewed across the vast distance ahead of him and saw the shimmering glare of what looked like a city up ahead.
"Essyrn...Ah, good times back in the day," Maelzedek muttered with satisfaction. "It's better than walking around in this godforsaken desert, don't you think?
"I can't wait to get rid of you," Haelo answered and headed off toward the gleam, not caring if it was a mirage or a feeding ground for these human creatures.
It wasn't long before he reached its outskirts and just there were massive tents built up and people everywhere chattering, flashing silver or golden coins in the sun and with toys and laughter and cries and acting not quite as he'd seen before. Haelo was surprised and walked in slowly, ignoring Maelzedek in his head that recalled times of lust and debauchery in a place just like this. It was as if he'd stepped into another world and all around were odd creatures, some doing tricks, some were leading people into tents and others throwing flaming or sharp objects in the air to grab a few wows from the crowd. He turned slightly and saw, lingering out of a tent, a woman with wings, something that he'd not seen since...well, never.
"Small rack, I'd stay away from her,"Maelzedek said. "Ooo, that chesty one over there! Go talk to her."
But Haelo wasn't paying attention and was mulling over something for a time, wondering and listening to what the winged woman was saying. Finally after some time, perhaps he would attempt some of this foolery, if only it would get people trying to inspect him. He didn't need to be so conspicuous. "I think I will," he said, looking as if he was talking to himself. He strode over, looking confused as if he'd been in the heat for too long and stared at the woman with her odd wings as if she was where he was from. It was highly unlikely. She didn't smell like anything divine. If anything, she was far too mortal. "If you can hear what the gods have to say, then I think you might be able to help me with my...problem."
