Nergal, god of war, plague, king of the Underworld (beast_of_war) wrote in history_dot_com, @ 2013-02-10 00:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | ~enyo, ~nergal |
Blood and Roses [499 BCE, Naxos] (tag: Enyo)
The battle had ended. At least for the moment. Each side was tending their wounded and counting their dead. Nergal was confident that each general would exaggerate those numbers in any reports that they made. Less dead of their own, more dead from the enemy’s ranks. He was rather amused at the way mortals determined who won the wars. They were so limited in their vision. They saw only land gained as a sign of victory. For the Beast of War, it was not the numbers or borders that he cared about. It was the war itself. The war and the blood.
The Sumerian was, however, disappointed in the amount of blood shed on this day. Yes, the war was still new. Persia and Greece were still taking stock of each other. They were trying to learn strategies, strengths and weaknesses. Later, the batters would become more glorious and spectacular in their carnage. Nergal would see to that.
The Sumerian war god looked over the battlefield. This was a good location. He would have to encourage his group of Persians to fight here again. The land here needed more blood. More Greek blood would be best. He would make certain his forces were more prepared to spill blood. This battle today, while a good fight, had not satisfied all of Nergal’s needs.
He was thinking about how to fix his lack of satisfaction, when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. The living mortals had all retreated to their own camps, so this could be interesting. Nergal turned his head and saw a mortal man slowly getting to his feet. Nergal saw no obvious wounds on this man. He would be very displeased if this mortal was attempting to desert his post. Hiding among the dead was an old trick. One that Nergal did not approve of.
The Sumerian frowned as he approached the mortal. He was one of his. All warriors of Sumer old and new belonged to him to do with as he pleased. He most often left them to their own devises to fight as they wished. Occasionally, he would feel the need to step in and use them for his needs. Times like this. No one ever deserted Nergal’s army.
Getting closer, Nergal could see that this soldier was disoriented. He had not even acknowledged the war god’s approach. He also had blood running down his face from under his helmet. Head wound. Possibly fatal if the brain was injured. Unfortunately for this mortal, if would prove fatal for him.
The Beast of War desired a sacrifice of blood.
He easily stepped in front of the mortal. He said nothing. Words were not important. The mortal just had to play his part. That was better if done in silence. Faster than the mortal’s eyes could follow, Nergal brought his sword out and slashed it across the soldier’s belly. The man’s eyes grew large as he first looked down, then looked up at Nergal. Perhaps he was going to ask why. He never got the chance. Even as his mouth was opening, Nergal moved his sword again, opening the man’s throat. A ragged gurgle was the only sound the man could make before he fell to the ground.
Nergal smiled when the blood had splashed across his face. One day he may visit this soldier in Irkalla and explain that this death was the noblest he could have ever faced. His death had satisfied a god.