Requiem for a Death God - Chapter 2: Introit 2nd Movement: by Whitepython.

The dark-green dragon with the blue eyes squeezed himself after walking several blocks around his home. The time was six in the morning and the adrenaline he had experienced a couple of hours ago had already run out. Without it, pain cursed his body. The worst part was that the warm and comfortable waves of heat that once came from his vest that kept his cold blooded chest and back comfortable were now weak, lukewarm and insipid ones. Varabol knew it was time to swap batteries.

Even if Varabol was anxious to talk and fix things, his knees shook at the idea of returning. He trusted that as soon as his clanmates knew what happened, they all would stand by his side and help him.

When he grew worried enough about his heating vest, he stood at the door to his home. It was a three storey building, with peeling, gray paint. The top two floors were two rows of four, large windows each, while the ground floor consisted of a heavy, metallic garage gate on the left and a smaller, metallic entrance door on the right.

This was both his home and the Ghost Soldier’s HQ, located in a district known as ‘Threewater Hills’, a district split into three sub-sectors.

First one was the Greenwater area. It hosted countless domestic buildings from at least 80 years ago. Most of the buildings were barely being maintained, including Varabol’s place.

Bluewater park was one of the largest and oldest parks in Riverstone city. It was a green area so massive that it took up a full sub-sector on its own. It had a small zoo and several botanical gardens. It was as old as Greenwater was.

And finally, the Whitewater area. That sub-sector consisted of run down factories, of which all but a couple were abandoned. However, several small businesses operated in the area. This favored Greenwater residents and its neighboring districts for both working and shopping.

After taking a moment to mentally prepare, Varabol begged to the God of the Holy Light that his fellow clanmates were home already and Zantazar had already calmed down. Varabol needed to return to his bed and catch some sleep right away. But most urgently, he needed to recover from the beating and to recharge his heating vest.

Deciding that he had hesitated long enough, he held his breath and pressed the button on the intercom next to the door. He was ready to walk to the horse’s bedroom and explain himself to everybody.

But no matter how many times he pressed the button, there was no answer from the device.

A million dark scenarios ran in the dragon’s mind. Perhaps his clan went to the police to report the thieving and now all the cops would be on the lookout for both himself and Visandro. Perhaps the kick that Zantazar got was so bad that right now, his father was dying of internal bleeding somewhere in a hospital? Perhaps...

Varabol hissed in annoyance to himself before deciding to focus on doing something instead of succumbing to anxiety. He paced in circles along the front of the property until he remembered that one of the windows at the back of the house was faulty. That was an alternative access into his house.

While the dragon didn't like the idea of going in like a thief, not after being unfairly accused of being one, he found no more option but to do so. He was too tired to wait outside for anyone of his clan to show up and unlock the door.

As the dragon walked to the back of the old building, he practiced in his mind for one last time the triumphant speech that would win him back the trust of his leader and the admiration of his clanmates. He knew that as soon as he explained himself, he would be welcomed back among his kin as the hero who saved father from the evil Visandro.

Perhaps he and his clanmates could elaborate during breakfast a strategy to hunt Visandro down and make him pay. He knew that he and his clan would sort out this mess together.

As soon as he entered the alley, some familiar voices and the sound of plastic being rustled sent him back to full alert mode.

One of the windows on the back of the building where he lived was wide open, with a rhinoceros throwing away things which seemed a bit too familiar to the dragon: clothes, books, boxes, framed pictures, among many other things.

At the ground floor, there was a second rhino putting everything in big, plastic bags while a gray wolf was supervising everything. Several, full plastic bags were left resting against a nearby wall.

These were Sbinoa the gray wolf, and Remetrio and Vrimido the gray rhino brothers. The remaining members of his clan.

“Wh- what are you doing?!” The tired dragon’s voice shook. Varabol placed his hands over his horns as his neck, spine and tail grew stiff. All of his belongings were now in the trash!

“Look, the traitor is here!” Vrimidio said. He was the younger rhino of the two who had turned 19 recently. Varabol saw him disappearing into the building before he could say anything back.

“You have guts showing yourself here after what you did, you fucking dumbass!” Remetrio, the 21 year old rhino, said as he tossed away a plastic bag that was filled halfway and made his way towards Varabol. Remetrio had a chubby build and a double horn on his snout. He wore some black jeans with a teal colored shirt.

Remetrio and Vrimidio were the less experienced hunters in the clan. Both of them had held the level-one, or the rookie ranks of ‘left femur’ and ‘right femur’ respectively and had done so since they arrived, five years ago.

Varabol walked back as his jaw tensed and hissed through his fangs all while Sbinoa the wolf locked his brown eyes on the scene, displaying no particular emotion.

Sbinoa was taller than everyone else. While dark gray dominated his fur, an almost white-ish tone decorated the top of his head and arms, with a bit of black fur under his chin, the front of his chest, and under his arms.

At the moment he was shirtless, revealing a much darker shade of gray covering his belly. He wore some pale blue jeans that revealed at the bottom a pair of almost black furred footpaws. This dark fur trait was also shared by a large part of his tail.

“Wait, let me explain things,” Varabol said. “I didn’t do anything! It was all Visandro’s fault!”

“But you helped! Father told us the truth before leaving,” Remetrio said.

“What? Where is he?”

“As if I would tell that to a traitor!” Remetrio threw a punch against the green dragon who was quick to dodge it. But the soreness from a couple of hours ago made him groan in pain as he held his chest.

“I am not a traitor. I saved Father!” Varabol yelled. He curled his fingers into fists as he kept on walking backwards and suppressed the urge to cry. “Please, let me explain everything!”

“What is there to explain?” Vrimidio’s voice surprised the dragon as the young rhino re-emerged through the back entrance door before slamming it shut. He had a muscular build, brown eyes and unlike his brother, he had a single horn on his snout. He wore green shorts and a yellow shirt. “You stayed at home on purpose so you and Visandro could be alone with father. And father said that you two stole and tried to murder him while the rest of us were away!” Vrimidio said as he marched with a firm step towards the demon hunter.

“Brother, I- I am innocent in all of this!” Varabol said.

“What do you have to say about this, Tailbones?” The young rhino froze his legs and focused his attention on Varabol. The dragon took a deep breath as he focused his attention on the muscled rhino.

“I know I wasn’t supposed to be here, but Visandro acted on his own. Had I known anything about this, I would have reported him on the spot! It was thanks to me that Visandro couldn’t harm father and-”

“Don’t listen to him!” Remetrio said. The older rhino rushed towards Vrimidio before wrapping a hand around Vrimidio’s horned snout to force his attention away from Varabol. “Father said that even talking to either of the traitors would be considered betrayal, too. And he was strictly clear about it. Besides, he has nothing to explain. We all know that Tailbones has always been nothing but a pet to that Visandro imbecile. Father gave us a mission here to complete and promised a good reward for us, don’t ruin it by talking with the traitor!”

Vrimido’s face grew tense and his nostril flared after hearing what his brother said. This was enough for the older rhino to let go of the muscled one. Varabol was confused about this special mission given by father.

“Varabol,” Remetrio said. “Father says that you owed Visandro a big favor because it was thanks to him that you cheated your way to the top. So you were always obeying him in everything he demanded,” Remetrio continued as he now locked his eyes on Varabol. “If father says that you’re a traitor, then it is so!”

“But brother-” Varabol interrupted.

“Shut up! You’re not our brother!” Remetrio shouted loud enough to silence the beaten up dragon. “Father will be pleased when he learns that we’re dumping your stupid ass out of the Ghost Soldiers along with your trash. isn't it bro?”

Remetrio turned his gaze towards Vrimidio, and the younger rhino strutted for a moment before nodding “I, yes brother.”

As both rhinoceros walked towards the dragon, Varabol walked several steps back. His heart was beating fast as he felt in the same danger he was a couple of hours ago. He gave a quick glance to Sbinoa, the gray wolf, hoping he could do something. But the canine was busy with the plastic bags. He was pulling a yellow envelope from one of them before folding his arms against his bare chest to examine the scene in silence.

And like he had always done, Sbinoa’s face and his body reflected no emotion at all. He was a stone-faced wolf with a stone cold attitude who stood like a stone statue. He oversaw the mess unfolding at the alley from behind his crossed arms. That was the Sbinoa that Varabol has known since he was taken in by Zantazar ten years ago.

Sbinoa was in the level-two or veteran ranks in the clan, with the title of right humerus. The member who used to hold the left humerus rank, Borles the badger, died during a mission in mysterious circumstances about two months ago.

And the level-three, or elite ranks, were held by both Varabol and Visandro. Himself as Tailbones and Visandro as Ribcage. It was Visandro who helped him jump from the rookie to the elite ranks without having to first earn his rank at the veteran levels. All while Zantazar held the fourth-level rank of Skull and leader of the Ghost Soldiers.

The previous Skull was the original founder of the Ghost Soldiers– Visandro Sr. That equine was a well-known demon hunter who trained Zantazar to become the great leader he was today. For the dragon, it was a shame that such a grand demon hunter shared names with that backstabbing vermin, Visandro.

Everybody in the clan but Visandro were adoptees. All turned into brothers after being taken in by Zantazar from orphanages all across town, to serve as demon hunters.

But now, Varabol felt his throat closing and his fist clenching tightly as he shook his head. None of his brothers wanted to listen to him. Not even for a minute! The dragon found all of this to be unfair!

Instead of arguing any further, Remetrio threw a second punch. While Varabol dodged this again, he flinched in soreness once more. This moment of pain distracted him long enough to receive a kick coming from Vrimidio, the younger rhino, that sent him face first down to the floor.

Varabol winced and tried to come back to his feet, but his arms were too sore to help him back up. A second later, the reptile found himself surrounded by both rhinos. After that, a hard kick impacted his sides, forcing Varabol to howl in agony.

At this stage, Varabol was in too much pain and too tired to attempt to fight back against these two.

Even if he was still carrying the blade he took from Visandro, there is no way he would use it against his brothers! Varabol loved and cared for them since they arrived in the clan. But also, attacking them would ruin his chance to prove to Zantazar that he was loyal to the Ghost Soldiers.

Varabol curled himself up and bore the punishment he received from those stone hard and hoof-toed feet that attacked him in all angles.

Unlike he had believed, not even his brothers loved or cared about him anymore. Each and every painful blow on his already sore body he received was proof of it.

“Enough!” A powerful voice commanded, and the rounds of kicks were over right away. Varabol knew it was Sbinoa’s voice.

“Are you siding with the traitor?!” Remetrio asked with the same anger he used when he spoke to the dragon a moment ago.

“I am siding with Zantazar,” the wolf said. “There is no greater pain and humiliation than to live being hated for being a traitor and a failure to your family. That is a fate way much worse than death itself.”

a mocking laugh was heard along with several footsteps.

“I like the way you think.” Even if the voice of Remetrio came from a distance, Varabol was too fearful to dare to turn his head around. “No need to waste more of our time with that useless and worthless imbecile anyway,” The older rhino, Remetrio shouted as he walked away.

A few seconds later, Varabol felt something furred to wrap around his neck before he was forced to turn around. The next thing he saw through his watery eyes as he hissed and squirmed in fear were the brown eyes of the gray wolf who stared down at him while holding him by the throat.

“Go away, and never return. Next time, there won’t be any mercy for traitors like you. If either you or Visandro shows up again, I will personally cut your fucking tails off and hang you with them on the fucking ceiling!”

“But I don't-”

Before the dragon finished his statement, the gray wolf snarled loud enough to mute Varabol. Sbinoa then rose to his feet before he procured from his pants that same yellow envelope he saw a moment ago. The next thing that the dragon experienced was that heavy thing landing over his chest. This didn't add any pain for his body was already overburdened with it.

“Stand up, take your trash, and get out of our lives forever, now!”

Varabol tried to complain from the floor, but he was too beaten and wounded to dare to anger his former clanmates and get yet another beating.

The reptile had already reached the far end of his rope. He had done everything in his power to fix things, but it was of no use. All the years working side by side with his adoptive brothers, all the camaraderie and the brotherhood they all built together had vanished in a couple of hours.

Being humiliated by his entire adoptive family like this made him realize his worthlessness. He didn’t even deserve an opportunity to tell them how hard he fought to save father.

Varabol realized that he spent ten years working to build a new family that would love him for nothing. A family he wanted to belong to after being left behind by his real family. But now, he was back to square one.

All because of that stupid, backstabbing horse!

But in all honest, he knew that he was as stupid and as worthless as his family has called him. He always knew it and his brothers had reminded him of this fact. His father was right last night. He was nothing but a reject and he wouldn’t be able to aspire to be anything else.

Beaten, with even more tears in his eyes and his spirit broken again, the dragon stood up while wincing in pain. He noticed that his now former clanmates had already gone back into the building.

He placed the yellow envelope inside one of those trash bags. Then, he browsed the bags left for him to see which important memories his wounded self could drag away.

After putting on some gray sweatpants and scavenging from the trash some of his personal belongings in two of the many bags, he was forced to leave the rest of his things behind, just like he had to abandon the idea of ever returning to his adoptive family.

* * * * * * *

It was around seven in the morning when Varabol sat down on a bus stop bench near his former home. With his bags laying beside him while lamenting his misfortune.

He was trying to recover from his third beating, even if he wasn’t anywhere near recovered from the previous ones.

The dragon remembered how bravely he stood up against Visandro and paid a heavy price to protect Zantazar. And even if he was the real hero here, he took all of the punishment while Visandro walked away, enjoying the fruits of his thieving and betrayal unpunished for that Vyshel-whatever.

Since Zantazar’s health had been declining over the last year, the old horse was due to retire from the position of Skull and Visandro was going to become the man in charge of the show. And his most beloved dream was about to come true by taking the co-leadership of the clan as Ribcage.

After being so close to the glory, none of those things were going to happen now. He couldn't understand why.

What he clearly knew was that he cursed Visandro with all his heart for helping him skip to the rank of Tailbones. Had he not accepted to cheat his way up 5 years ago, like he was advised by Sbinoa, he probably would have convinced his family of the truth.

He has been beaten up and humiliated by everybody in the Ghost Soldiers. Should he give up?

No! He couldn’t give up until he settled things with Visandro. Perhaps if he captured that backstabbing imbecile and forced him to tell the truth, his father would love him again. Perhaps if he fought back hard enough against this injustice, he might recover the approval of the rest of his clan.

But how should he go about it? He had no money, no food, no place to sleep tonight. And worst of all, if he didn’t recharge the battery on his heat vest right now, his muscles would petrify and his organs would fail, slipping into a fatal stupor. Varabol depended on his heat vest a lot more than regular reptiles did. Thanks to a genetic disease, he struggled really hard to preserve the body heat that reptiles were already struggling to keep.

Varabol accepted the reality that he was meant to be left on his own and to suffer life’s challenges alone. This was the same story repeating itself like when he was abandoned by his parents when he was 13.

His train of self pity was interrupted when a bus stopped right before him. And a couple of seconds later, a husky wearing sunglasses and some sports clothes, bearing a gym bag, descended from the bus. He gave Varabol a brief, uninterested glance before heading off down the road.

The dragon suddenly recalled that he had renewed his gym membership a week ago. While the payment was non-refundable, maybe if he begged desperately enough, he might get his money back and survive for a bit more in his homelessness.

But he needed to hurry. Varabol knew if he got there before 8 that morning, he might be able to talk directly to the gym owner and beg for his money back. There was also the possibility that he might bump into his spotting partner, the wolf Montekausko, and he did not want him to see him in his current bruised and disheveled state.

He really, really liked that hunk of a black wolf very, very much. But he didn’t want the wolf to find him all beaten up like this. And most of all, what if after seeing him all wounded, the canine realizes that he has no more use for him and also ditches him like his clan did?

Merely thinking about being rejected by that big, lovely, masculine wolf wounded him as much as it did to be rejected by his whole family. But today was the wolf’s day off from his gym routine. So he shouldn't bump into his spotting partner.

Even if he failed to get a refund, he could recharge his heat vest battery for a couple of hours at the gym reception and hope he could survive tonight in the streets.

Also, taking a hot bath at the gym lockers to try to lower the excruciating pain he experienced sounded so tempting right now. But would that lower his chances to get his money?

The dragon was so anxious because he didn’t know what to do to survive this day. Let alone to fix his whole life!

Before Varabol descended into self-pity once more, he managed to calm himself and focus on surviving this night if he was to get his revenge on Visandro. And that meant securing enough power for his drained heating vest.

As the dragon searched in the trash bags, he hoped and begged to the God of the Holy Light that he didn’t forget the charging dock for his heating vest battery at the alley. While searching, he stumbled upon the yellow envelope given to him by Sbinoa the wolf.

He remembered the thing was heavy when it landed on his chest. So, he picked it up, curious about what might have been tossed in there.

He opened the envelope and inside he found his wallet, with 500 tonnes that weren't there before. Also, his cellphone and an extra, spare battery for his heating vest were inside.

But perhaps, the best part for Varabol was to find a note that read: “No matter what, don't phone anyone or answer calls from anybody in the clan. Meet me in three days at the Rosecoup corner in downtown. The one right next to the ex-convent park. I’ll be there at 8 in the morning to talk with you. Don't be late.”

What was happening here? Varabol wanted to know why Sbinoa wanted to talk to him. None of this was making any sense! Would this be a trap? Why was the wolf part of his humiliation a moment ago, but now, he was all friendly with him?

Thinking about it, the dragon remembered that Sbinoa and Visandro had been hanging out a bit too much for the last two months. Right after they worked together to solve the case that took Borles the badger’s life. And they were especially together over the last two weeks.

Perhaps Sbinoa has something important to add to this whole problem. Something that will help him return back to normal.

Feeling bribed with 500 tonnes and having no better option, Varabol decided to hit the gym for some extra money. And from there, to come up with a way to survive three days so he could make it to that meeting and hear whatever the wolf had to say.



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Here is the second part of my novel 'Requiem for a Death God'. I am hoping to release the new few chapters a bit more faster than these two. Like I said earlier, I really wanna thank  utunu for editing this mess and making it way more readable. But also, I wanna thank him for his patience and his willingness to teaching me more about the craft of writing :D

I will release chapter 3 which is the last part of the Introit ASAP.

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