Long ago, "Gods" bickered and wars raged throughout the land. On a valley away from all the cities and towns lived a peaceful farmer working the lands alongside with his wife and young daughter.
For a while, life was good for the farmer. It was hard work, but he was able to provide for his family and after becoming accustomed to this regular daily lifestyle, they had started to feel like everything was in its right place.
Unfortunately greed exists in all men and the fertile land that he had settled had caught the eye of a nearby country. Fighting within the land began. Already, the farmer could see fire and smoke in the distance. He prayed it would not reach them.
By the time the snow began to fall, the enemy had found their way to his doorstep. They emptied their granary, stole their clothes, warm rugs, and blankets.
He begged their General to leave them something.
'P-please sir. Spare some food for us... J-just enough to last the winter is all I ask...'
'There's enough specs on the floor for one of you to survive...' said the General.
‘One of us….?’
The farmer turned toward his family and watched in sickening shock as the soldiers ran them through with spears. Their bodies slumped to the floor like sacks of potatoes. It took a moment to sink in what had just transpired. Their dead eyes seemed to stare straight into him…
'We may have to pass through here again. Do make sure your Granary is filled up by then.' said the General.
'YOU BETTER KILL ME NOW BECAUSE I WILL REMEMBER YOUR FACE AND I WILL HUNT YOU FOR ALL OF ETERNITY!'
'I am Ares, the God of War. Do you really think you do what hundreds of thousands could not. Be thankful I am sparing your life peasant.'
The soldiers let out a chuckle and then they left. The farmer remembered each and every face amongst the thousands of soldiers and swore bloody vengeance upon all of them, deep down knowing how futile it may be. Vengeance however, would have to wait. First he would need to outlast the winter.
The remaining food would not even last a day, let alone the winter. He laughed at his cruel fate and empty words he could no longer keep. He apologised to his family and prayed he would see them in the next life.
A week passed and the effects of starvation were starting to show. His vision had started to fade and he looked toward his frozen family hungrily. He had contemplated it many times but had sworn off the idea many times over. 'My wife would want me to live.' he thought to himself before finally giving into his affliction.
Eating his family however, was not enough to pass 3 months of winter and he felt his life force slip away. He knew he would go to hell for what he had just done and cursed the gods forcing him into such a state.
In his final moments, time began to slow. It then came to a complete stop. He found himself standing in the room looking down at his body, when suddenly a million faces appeared around him. He felt this strange uncontrollable desire to choose one. He chose one of the soldiers faces from his memory. A moment later, the corpse he was looking at had become that soldier.
He ate hungrily and gleefully at the second chance the devil had given him, devouring the soldiers body wholly. Though his body had never quite recovered when winter had ended, he set out anyway, carrying his farming scythe more as a walking stick than for any other useful purpose.
He visited burnt out towns, spoke to survivors and followed Ares trail of destruction. He finally caught up to him on an open battlefield under a thick fog. The farmer then casually wandered onto the field checking each wounded soldier lying on the floor. If they were one of the many faces he remembered, he would quickly dispatch of them with his Scythe. It did not matter to the farmer whether the enemy soldier had a small cut ,or were already dying, or how much they begged for mercy. His vengeance demanded blood...
After Ares army had driven their enemy away, they looked around to find an unusual looking hill behind the fog. They soon realised that it was no ordinary hill. As they drew closer. they found the farmer smiling at Ares while sitting on a massive pile of his men's corpses.
'You are a very stupid peasant to of travelled so far to die.' said Ares before giving the signal to attack.
100 of his men attacked the farmer. Petrified screams could be heard through the fog and then there was silence. Ares chuckled to himself only to see faintly through the mist, the farmer sitting in the same position on a larger pile of corpses. He sent another squad in, only to suffer the same fate. More soldiers volunteered to take down the farmer. Ares turned them down.
'Archers on the ready!' yelled Ares
He looked around to see thousands of his men lined up and ready to shoot. 'Let's see what you do now you son of a bitch' Ares thought to himself.
Ares gave the signal and a hail of arrows rained and splintered into the shadowy figure in the fog. The fog cleared enough for Ares to see the farmer now sitting on a mountain of corpses. He looked around him to find most of his archery battalion missing. He turned towards the farmer and could now see his battalion of archers as bodies forming a bloody mountainous throne for the farmer before him.
'What is your power farmer!' said a frustrated Ares.
'Hmph, If you are indeed a god then you have nothing to fear.’
Ares charged toward the Farmer like a madman. His axe seemed to dance around him like a savage tornado. Just as Ares was about to strike he vanished and the farmer felt the cold steel of a dagger strike through his back and into his heart. His murderer smelled of rotten pig skin. He could hear the gleeful chuckle of his assailant moments before being sent to the place of a million faces. He picked Ares face that he had memorised so well and used it to replace his corpse. Moments later found himself looking down upon his enemy.
'So you killed my second in command and now I know your power' said a familiar voice from behind him.
He looked around to see Ares standing before him. Ares then changed his face to another and another.
'The God of war has many faces' says Ares. 'And it looks like your power needs a face to kill someone...'
'...And your power. It's to create illusions isn't...?' said the farmer
'What!? How did you... No-one has discovered my secret and lived!'
In a fit of rage, Ares leapt towards to farmer and cut out his eyes. The farmer frantically flailed about with his hands. One hand grabbed at the Ares dagger arm, the other pushed away at Ares face. Ares then he stood back and watched as the farmer cried out in pain and anger.
'I wish I could kill you right now.... If you come after me again Grim Reaper, I will make you wish you were dead!' said Ares.
He then left the farmer alone to stew in his torment. Most people from that time would have given up, but the farmer had come too far to stop now. He bandaged his wound and examined the footprint of his murderer. 'A heavy right footprint. Too much weight on the heel. Smells of pigskin. Hmm, he has fake wooden leg that he covers in pig skin to look more human...'
He grabbed his scythe and slowly followed the footprints to a nearby town. The town was plagued with a perverted god that demanded virgins be regularly sacrificed at his temple. Although this would set him back, he decided he would pay this "God" a visit. The "God" tried to kill the farmer many times but the farmer knew this "God" had nothing that could kill him
With the “God” Backed into a corner, the farmer brought his now bony hand up to the "Gods" face and brushed over it with his fingertips. 'I see you' whispered the farmer, before taking the "Gods" life.
The town was liberated but also afraid of their new visitor. People locked their doors when he walked passed. This would make it hard to follow Ares but nonetheless he persisted.
Years went on and the farmer had become nothing by skin and bone, but he refused to die. Each town he visited treated him the same and every "God" he came across was merciless and cruel and subsequently dealt with in the same manner he had become so familiar with…
Eventually he tracked Ares himself down to a small remote cave in the woods. He could smell the rotten pigskin flesh and then he heard that familiar voice.
'So you finally found me.. This power is a curse. To have Death knocking at my door, always a hair lengths away… So how did you find me?' said Ares
'It's the strangest thing, when your on the brink of death. Every single detail of every moment becomes locked to your memory, your senses feel heightened. I remember the cold still air, the smell of broken flesh. I even remember being able to feel the tiny hairs on a single blade of grass. '
I followed your heavy right foot-print whenever I came across it. I eavesdropped whenever I heard townsfolk talk about a stranger that matched your characteristics, and finally there's that very distinct rotten smell you have that lead me here.'
'Thank you for so easily telling me your secrets. Now I will cut away your remaining senses and as a man of my word will MAKE YOU WISH YOU WERE DEAD!'
He heard Ares pull out a knife and then the knife glide through the air toward his shoulder. A small subtle movement and the knife whizzed past him.
'...It's funny. I thought taking your eyes would be taking the one power you could use against me, but what I did was take the one power I had against you.'
Ares equipped a knife in each hand and started running at the farmer.
'…Nonetheless, The Grim Reaper can't kill a god you son of a bitch!'
The farmer dives into the path of the charging Ares forcing one of the knives to plunge into his own heart.
Startled, Ares jumps back taking care not to be touched by the farmer in front of him.
'There are no gods in this world. There is however Death and it will always find you...'
'Y-you don't know my face. Y-you can't kill me'
'Oh, but I do know you...When you took my eyes, I put my hand on you. It wasn’t a desperate claw to push you away…I was making sure I could memorize every inch of your face. I could of killed you at any time, but I wanted to be there when I ended it! ...Goodbye Ares.
Moments later, the farmer looked down at the body of his enemy and ran his fingertips over the corpse.
'You have finally been avenged my sweet wife, my beautiful daughter.'
For the first time in a long time he cried a long cry.
He had rid the world of humans that acted like demons but he had become a like a demon himself. When the time came to draw his last breath, he chose his own face and died happily on his own terms.
Some called him the Grim Reaper. Others say that he was an angel that blessed the world with death where needed.
Topic: Deifics (Read 4094 times)
