Ruros

From Mizahar Lore

Ruros

Race	God
Title	Former God of War.
Domain	War.
Cults	None.
Worshipped in	Nowhere.

Ruros is the former God of War. He was slain by Myri the Merciless, Goddess-Queen of the Myrians.

History

Ruros had reigned as the God of War since time immemorial. He exacted tribute, gifted his favourites and most loyal servants with power beyond many could ever dream of. But in the southern area of the Suvan Empire, the entire jungle was fraught with violence. He had left them alone - violent savages that had never listened to reason before, anyway, and weren't likely to now. But Ruros had heard some rather... disturbing... stories about what went on in the tropical battlefield, and that one had emerged triumphant. He was unconcerned - these things never lasted long with a people that fought for the sheer joy of fighting.

Eventually, though, the matter became too big to ignore. A young woman, known as Myri the Merciless, was being touted as the Goddess Queen of the jungle. The Goddess of War, they said, known for her brilliance in fighting, tactics, and cutthroat ways. Eventually, the god went to investigate, curious to see just what sort of woman this was that others dared to call a Goddess-Queen over him.

Donning a disguise of a simple merchant, looking like any other of the numerous savages that stalked the jungle, Ruros made his way through Taloba. He felt a sudden anger at realizing that this ruler was clearly favoured by Caiyha and Navre, but kept up the guise until he had seen the Queen and listened in. Ruros had to admit he was impressed -- she was an excellent leader, and extremely popular, even amongst those whose tribes Myri had conquered.

In the throne room, he revealed himself to her, shedding his disguise. The monster of a man stood taller than she, indeed, taller than any of the others, and his voice boomed. "My name is Ruros, God of War," he told the Queen, who had immediately unsheathed a wicked-looking blade. "Now, now, there's no need for that, is there?" he tsked. "I find it most interesting that your people, people of war, do not recognize me. Instead, they worship you, a mere mortal."

The dark-skinned woman watched him, still holding the gleaming blade level. "You are of no use to us here. Leave my city, my lands. Do not return. This is your only warning." At her sides, two enormous tigers, one so dark it was almost crimson in colour, snarled in apparent agreement.

"Your lands?" he quirked a brow, drawing his own blade. The thing glowed and crackled with power. "I have a proposal for you, Myri," he forewent her titles and honorifics. "I admit to being impressed with what you have done and accomplished. Your stories reek of legend, of battles that will go down in history. I am willing to accept you as my bride, and rule these people... the Myrians... with you. What say you?"

"No." The refusal was cold, without any trace of hesitation whatsoever. "I rule. And I rule alone. I do not need the backing of one such as you to lead my people."

His gaze hardened at her words, filled with venom and arrogance, "You dare to defy me?! You should be on your knees, thanking me! Do you know how many would die for this chance?"

"I don't care how many," Myri retorted. "I am not one of them. Get out."

Rage filled the god at the insults hurled. "I will strike you dead where you stand, and show these heathens who the real powers that be are!" he lunged for her, the blade glowing ominously. "Citizens of Taloba, hear me, Ruros, the God of War!" he roared as Myri used her throne for leverage, throwing herself at him, trying to catch his sword with her own hooked blade. "You worship a false god, a mere mortal who thinks herself grand enough to fight me!" If he was hoping to dispirit the young Queen, he failed miserably as his sword was forced up from the white blade Myri used, and the woman's weight was behind yet another that would definitely not come out as smoothly as it came in, if it made contact.

He jerked his sword away, twisting to avoid the treacherous blade, and was forced on the defensive as Myri kept driving him backwards, out of the throne room. Tigers prowled around them, warriors throughout the room struck up a frenetic rhythm with the butts of their spears against the stone floor. "What's the matter? Are your precious little savages afraid of joining in?" he taunted her as they circled, each trying the other out.

"They don't need to," Myri told him, a vicious smile on her face, the bones in her hair rattling with each movement. "Because they know that this battle has already been decided!" They clashed again and again, white blades against the surreal glow of the god's weapon, the drumming rhythm of the spears never abating as god and mortal moved around the throne room. Ruros swung his blade low, angling it upwards. Myri's hooked blade crashed against it, trying to catch it, but with a surge of the god's strength, the weapon shattered, the glowing sword sinking into the queen's abdomen.

"To the victor go the spoils!" he roared. Myri flung the broken hilt away, catching her glaive's hilt and sending the weapon off the rack towards her as she spat blood at the god's face. "Defiant to the last, are you?" he twisted the weapon. He planted his foot against her shoulder and pushed, forcing her backwards. She dropped her remaining sword to snatch the glaive with both hands, staggering to her feet as the god gloated. "A mortal like yourself could never defeat the God of Wa---" Myri's glaive caught him in the chest, then, piercing his lungs with the two prongs of the weapon as she rammed him backwards, impaling him onto the wall of her throne room.

"To the victor," Myri agreed, leaning against the hilt of the weapon as Ruros' thrashing slowed, "go the spoils."

"What...what magic is this?" Ruros gasped for breath, his hands burning as he attempted to remove the glaive.

"A gift from Dira," Myri breathed, forcing the artifact into the wall. "The Ash'dene."

"Battle... Glaive... of... the... Queen of... the Dead..." Ruros panted, trying to pull the wicked thing from its chest, his movements weakening.

"That's right," the young woman agreed as blood soaked the floor beneath them, mortal and god. "The Battle Glaive of the Dead."

He tried to say something more, but Myri, clutching her wound with one hand, lifted a dagger from the leather cord at her waist, and stabbed it into his chest. She began carving out his heart, ripping it from its cavity, still beating, and sank her teeth into it as the Myrians roared approval and triumph. Blood spilled over her face and throat, as she held the pulsing organ above for all to see before devouring it, bit by bit. Power pulsed throughout the throne room, rippling outwards through the city, like the aftermath of the occasional seismic activity. Myri shuddered as she felt the sheer strength of it soaking into her body as, heart finished, she took a spiked club from the wall, and opened the skull to remove the brain, continuing her gory feast as the beating weapons became faster still as Myri offered the brains of the dead to Dira, holding them aloft as blood dripped down her arm before she sank her teeth into it.

The flesh wounds sustained in battle healed themselves, all except for the wound to her abdomen wrought by Ruros' blade. It would remain as a reminder - Myri had ascended as a God, but she would bear no more children as a result of the battle that elevated her to what her people worshiped her as. From her Crypt, Dira smiled at the carved pieces of ivory before her. "A new Goddess ascends. Long live the Goddess of War."

For her slaying of Ruros, Myri became known as Myri the Usurper, Goddess of War and Victory.