anal-2-aristotle

[anal-2-aristotle]

The Hero’s Bane- Chapter 2

5,000 years after The Fall...

Adam hoisted the buck's carcass off his steed with a humph.

"Ya been busy today, Ads?" Morgan the butcher greeted the young man, wiping his spoiled hands on his already bloody apron. "That's the first buck I've seen this winter!"

"Yeah, I got lucky. Almost crossed into the Ash Woods before I napped him."

"Ash Woods? You were hunting near the creek?!" Morgan lowered his voice, leaning closer to Adam. "You know what lies in those woods..."

"Forgotten bedtime tales, I know. I was careful." Adam dropped the animals body on the butchers counter. "Besides, I said almost."

Morgan stroked his beard, and began rummaging behind the counter. He pulled out a small coin pouch, dropping it next to the carcass. "I'll give you forty gold, only because you brought me a buck. "

Adam nodded in agreement, snatching the pouch. "Understandable, thank you Mr. Morgan!"

"Yeh yeh, get on with ya life. Tell that Dash kid that he needs to show his face a little more! I only saw him once this week!" the butcher hollered as Adam mounted his speckled bay mare.

"Of course, sir!" Adam called back, turning his horse to the outskirts of the village. "You take care as well!"

Dashiell scribbled furiously, scratching out the previous paragraph of writing. Throwing the journal across the room, Dash chewed on the end of the pencil, standing to pace. "If the gods don't kill me, I swear, I'll do it myself." he said to himself.

"If you're going to kill yourself, please do it over something more washable than a white fur rug." Adam's voice said from the door way. "...That was a joke, Dash."

"I'm sorry, I was so caught up in my angst, I forgot to laugh." the younger of the two brothers turned to size up the older one. "Did you get any velvet holly-dew?"

Adam stared down into Dashiell's bright, mossy green eyes. "I don't know, did you look up Mother Natures skirt?"

"You know that I was blessed by her, not cursed, for doing that." Dash pushed his brother back playfully. "I was also a baby, so it wasn't crude."

Adam ruffled Dashiell's dirty gold hair, chuckling. "And she was disguised as a hag."

Dash shoved Adam's hands away, fixing the messy hair. "Back to the pervious question..."

"No, I didn't get the holly-dew. Can't you just, y'know-" Adam wiggled his fingers. "-magic it?"

"It doesn't work like that and you know it!" Dash huffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Adam sighed, unclipping the sword from his belt. His younger brother sat in the kitchen, coaxing a basil plant to grow a little extra sprout.

Ever since Mother Nature had blessed the Griffin family by dousing the youngest child in magic powers, things hadn't been easy. There was the usual harassments for consoling with dark magic, sometimes Dash came home with bruises and cuts. There were calls for false prophesying, even rumors that the Griffins had sold the original baby to the fey in exchange for power. This, of course, was all false. Dashiell Griffin prided himself in being righteous, being able to see the difference in good and evil, as if it were black and white. He helped anyone he could, almost to a fault.

Adam lowered himself next to Dash's chair, watching him interact with the plant.

While anyone should be grateful for a goddess's blessing, Adam always felt like she could've given more. Dash was self-taught. No mage wanted to teach him how to use his abilities, and no college would provide him with books so he could study magic forms. For this, Dash had taught himself little cantrips and growing spells, often accompanied by him soothing the plants with a song. He spent so much time out in the garden, that Adam looked pale and sickly in contrast to Dashiell's olive, sun kissed skin.

The older brother smiled to himself as a little bud sprouted from the pot.

Even though Dash had no teachers, he was still powerful with his magic. When he was happy, the house was usually decorated in Natures Glory's, a rare, glowing flower that was rumored to be touched by Mother Nature's lips. When he was angry, Adam would find himself pulling out thorns from the Sword Rose bushes that covered the bedroom. When he was sad, Adam would see Weeping Ivy dripping its sap onto fresh laundry. The plants lived in tune with Dash and his emotions, going as far as to protect him from hungry tiller wolves, rabid beasts that would eat their own pups if they were hungry enough.

"You're staring again."

Adam was snapped from his thoughts, focusing on his younger brother. "Oh, sorry, I was thinking."

"That's dangerous." Dashiell jested lightly, picking off some basil leaves. "Are you worried?"

"Worried?"

"You're 25 this year."

The hunt. One of the greatest ways to die, one would say. All hunters of the age 25 or older were to be lined up every 10 years, in every village, for the gods to choose who was worthy of joining the dead. It was never part of the plan, to die. It just happened when you send mere mortals after a fallen god. Only one person ever made it back alive, and she hadn't said a word since.

Adam felt his stomach drop. "Oh, yeah."

"You think The Victor of Heroes will pick you for the hunt?"

"You think they won't?" Adam scoffed playfully. "I'm one of the best hunters this north of Dalem! I'd be wounded if they didn't!"

"Yeah." agreed Dash slowly. "You think your party will get the fallen Bane of Heroes this year?"

"I'm sure of it. With the eons that have passed, and the silvron cuffs that drain him, I know he will be too weak to even put up a real fight!"

When the younger of the two didn't respond, Adam shook his shoulder. "Hey, I'll be fine if they pick me."

Dash looked away. "Yeah, I know that but... I just, it feels wrong."

"What does?"

"I've been having these dreams-"

"Not the dreams again, Dash." Adam stood up from his chair, shaking his head.

"But listen! I keep seeing someone, this- this man, wounded and beaten, begging for mercy and justice-"

"It's the Bane of Heroes trying to get in your mind! You know he does dark magic like that!" Adam raised his voice, shoving off Dash's outstretched arm.

"I do know, but what if Grandmother Moon is trying to convey something to me-"

"Dashiell, they are just dreams of doubt! I will hear no more of it!"

"Adam, please listen-"

"No! Everyone knows that The Bane of Heroes is a monster, and I will not hear you defend him again!"

"I'm not defending him! I just think-"

"Enough Dash!" Adam slammed his fist on the counter, knocking over the potted basil. With a startling crash, the pot shattered, and Dash was quiet. "If you really are so swayed by dreams, why don't you cross the creek and ask the fallen god yourself?!"

Dashiell opened his mouth, then closed it, defeated. Adam turned to walk up the stairs, when a small voice said; "I will."

Anger and frustration weaving into his words, Adam spat: "Then do it."

With that tension left in the air, Adam excused himself to bed, unaware of his brother stealing his sword and cloak.

Finding the creek was easy for Dash. He had wanted to cross it for so long, curious about the forbidden forest that laid out of his reach. The moon's belly was full, shinning reflectively on the creeks soft running water.

Now that he was here, now that there was nothing stopping him from crossing the water, he couldn't move. The ashy colored trees across the creek beckoned to him with their thin, naked branches, swaying in the winter wind. Snow began to fall, dressing the ground in white. It was now, or never.

Dash splashed quickly to the other bank, the cold water pushing him to move faster. Once on the other side, he pulled his stolen cloak around his lean figure and trudged forward. Unsurprisingly, there were no animal sounds as he noisily clunked through the snow. Dash's breath steamed the air, the cold biting his lungs. Stopping to lean on one of the grey trees, Dash felt a tingly sensation of being watched.

He stood up quickly, hand on the swords hilt. "Hello?!"

His voiced echoed, slowly dying out. There was no response, so, like a fool, he tried again. "I'm looking for The Bane of Heroes?!"

This time, he was met with a low growl, followed by a chorus of howls. A thin, malnourished wolf stalked out of the undergrowth, followed by another. And another. And another.

Soon he found himself surrounded by a pack of tiller wolves, each of them eying him like he was the fattest, juiciest cow they had ever laid eyes on.

Gods above, he was going to end up as wolf shit.

What a way to go.

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[anal-2-aristotle]

The Hero’s Bane- Chapter 1

There was so much blood.

So loud, Natures tits, why was it so loud?

His name, Bane, someone was calling him.

His hands, soaked in crimson. Crimson, a lovely color. The color of hearts, the color of life. Who’s life did he have painting his hands?

The Bane of Heroes, that’s who he was. He remembers.

His job was to rid the heroes that became prideful and abusive of their power and position. Everyone knew that… So why was there screaming?

His body ached, but he forced himself off the ground where he knelt.

“Bane.” A familiar voiced called. “What did you do?”

Bane turned to face his opposite, The Victor of Heroes. The other gods bleach white hair looked unkept and grimy from where Bane stood, which was unnatural for them.

“Victor, your hair…” his own voice sounded far and disembodied. The Victor of Heroes face scrunched to resemble a frown, the expression looking misplaced on their usually sunny face.

“My hair? That’s your worry?!”

“I do not follow… what is it that upsets you?” Bane reached out a bloodied hand to touch Victor, but they shoved it away, drawing their holy sword.

“Father Time was right. You have fallen to insanity.” There was a sad chuckle. “…and I really thought that I could bring you back from it.”

Bane furrowed his brow, his skin suddenly too hot to stand. He tried to recall the past events, but he came up blank. “Victor, I do not remember doing anything that implied I have lost my sanity.”

The Victor of Heroes shook their head, pointing around them. “So this slaughter had nothing to do with you? These bodies on the ground was not your doing?”

Bane followed their gaze, finally looking at his surroundings.

Charred faces frozen in horror, bodies mangled and gutted, and even children dead, still clutching to stuffed dolls. They littered the ground, dead, and those unfortunate enough to be dying. Houses were up in flames, windows smashed in, and by the gods, it smelled like someone was burning alive.

“I… I do not recall.” Bane muttered, the gruesome scene freezing him. “I would never step out like this, you know how I am!”

“I thought I did…” Victor, leveled their sword at Bane. “But it seems you had everyone fooled. You were corrupted the moment you were tasked. Bane of Heroes, I bind you and curse your name!”

Cold metal sudden clamped onto Banes wrists, and he felt a chill run through his body.

No.

Silvron, a metal from the gods, made to restrict and drain the power of monsters. Victor was implying that Bane was beyond hope, that he was a monster, a lesser, a fallen god.

“Come quietly, I don’t wish to harm you, though you thoroughly deserve it.”

Anger pumped through Banes veins. He was never good about his temper, he knew that he could be impulsive, but this, this was something else. With the cuffs, they didn’t want to hear him out, they didn’t want him to beg for his innocence. No, they already condemned him.

He barred his teeth, feeling himself slip back into the form of fighting he had grown so comfortable with. “Damn you, damn your gods, damn your blinded dog-like faith to Father Time. I will not be the one you take today- and never will I be!”

Victor sighed, but nonetheless, charged.

The battle was short lived. Bane was off, the cuffs draining his power. A boot cut into his already wounded stomach, throwing him to the pebbled ground. He spat blood, pulling him head off the dirt.

“I will not… be put down… like some rabid beast!” Bane pushed onto his forearms, only to feel his face grind against the gravel, Victors sword cutting into his shoulder. It burned, like he was being branded. Distantly, he realized, he was. He howled, twisting weakly under Victors weight.

“You sound just the animal you are.” Victor sneered, removing the holy metal from Bane’s shoulder. “But I will do you one last kindness in the name of our friendship…”

Victor pushed Bane onto his back with their boot, pointing their sword under the other gods chin. “Run, Bane. Run and never show your face again. Hide and slay no more, until you are a bedtime tale.”

“You wish me to be forgotten so easily? You should just stake me where I lay.” Bane’s usual smooth voice sounded gritty and dry. He cast a knowing gaze with his dimly glowing white eyes, his tan complexion covered in dirt and blood, both fresh and dried. “We both know that I do not surrender so simply.”

“Then humor me, and lick your wounds, until you can fight again.” Victor turned away, sheathing their sword. “You have two eons. After that, I will hunt you down, and I will show less mercy than today. Lash out before then, and I won’t waste breath defending your life to Father Time.”

A bright flash of light blinded Bane, and The Victor of Heroes was gone.

Two eons.

The phrase echoed in Bane’s skull

Two thousand years.

He pulled himself to his feet, wiping his bloody nose on the back of his hand. Two thousand years was more than enough time to plan revenge. He was a patient hunter, two thousand years was more than enough time for him to better his skills.

With his blood boiling, anger steeping into his heart, Bane stalked away to ‘lick his wounds’.

They want to condemn me to be a monster?

A deep, unhinged laugh began to rumble from Bane’s throat, turning into that of a cackling hyena.

Fine. I’ll be their monster.

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Hi! Thank You so much for reading. If you enjoyed it was be great if you could share and leave a follow! I'm currently working on a web comic so stay tuned for that!

-Ari

Ao3           Wattpad