Weapon of Pain
And the great beast slithered there in the morning light. The time... ages before ages... The place... a rocky crag long turned to fields of grass and wheat... But there it stood, the mist from the mountains almost running from it, as it slithered upon it's path. The beast was a large bull hydra, it's red and black scales glistened with a tink of fairy dew... it's twisting 7 heads, meeting on it's back in a tough leathery neck, snapped at passing birds. This morning, the Hydra thought, would not be one for hunting... yet one for relaxation.
The menacing man that stood silently watching the proud creature had other plans.
The Hydra, who was named Krin Fle Mordan, which roughly translates from a forgotten language to God of Kind and Good, was worshipped and venerated by a local village. The beast was old, benevolent, and very powerful. It would be able to break this warlocks spells in a matter of a few seconds by mere force of will... It didn't matter to the watchful and patient mage, a few seconds was all it needed.
Krin approached the top of the crag and inhaled deeply through each head and proudly stretched it's long tail outward. It was time for it's morning greeting to the earth mother, his followers and her children. It was once again time to strike fear into the hearts of all those that would harm the earth and his friends..... But such a greeting merely attracted the vile being that sought to enslave the people of this area... It sought to enslave them by slaying their God... What use is inspiring fear in a man that has never know it.
The man who stood now a few paces away from the mighty Krin was well hidden by a spell that veiled Krins eyes.... Krin would never know what hit him... So enthralled in the preparation for the greeting was he, that he never even heard the words "Ylf, Ylf, Ylf" Spoken softly as the traditional bunk for such a spell. The glamour shot forth and before Krin knew what was happening... he heard a voice. A voice so sweet... so seductive... so... so... irresistible that he wanted nothing more than to believe what the voice was saying... wanted nothing more than it... and fully did believe.
"You are a bird.. my small feathered friend." said the voice.
"A bird.. Yes... yes a bird" Thought Krin.
"Fly now... Fly now and be free!!!!"
With out a second thought Krin thrust himself off the edge of the cliff, hoping to take flight as he truly believed he would... But was quickly met by the ground below... Snap... His lower spine was snapped like a twig under his massive frame, causing him to be paralyzed and unable to move. Rivers of thick red-black blood flow out of his different mouths.. He was confused and dazed, why hadnít his wings worked... Why hadn't he flown... He was so confused he never felt the pain of the hooks driving into his still active body parts. Hooks attached to wires that held him where he lay, unable to move, and at the complete mercy of the brutish looking group of 30 redcaps and trolls that had just bound this fallen god.
Then the man came again... Through the next hours hunks of Krin Fle Mordans flesh and body were torn from him and ate by this vile group. The gouged his eyes out, pulled his teeth from his mighty mouths, pierced his flesh with all manner of objects, and basically made the next hours the most painful hours of his life. During that time... flesh was striped from his neck, slowly and painfully and from that flesh was carefully forged in front of Krins dying eyes, a whip.. a whip of his own flesh and teeth. A whip made of a dead god, said the man, a whip made to punish that gods followers.
And the demon named Bloodmane laughed as the last bit of life ebbed out of Kirn... And Zi'Krin, Dead God, was born.