When Fraker the Axe becomes naught but an empty shell

is when the most danger is to be had, for the shell is filled

with the wrath of the Herald of Carnage and no force

upon the Six Worlds, not mortal or God, can stand

before the Herald of Carnage fully unbound.

-Saint Kalimia, Church of the Crimson Waters of Life

Pliazli the Beast moved to the top of the ridge overlooking the city of Gladriel-Zukk, using his hands and arms like some great ape. His torso and shoulders so thick with muscle that he was deformed, despite his thick legs, into a caricature rather than the lean and deadly physique of his Wraith-Killer kin.

He rested on his fists for moment, looking around at the others gathered at the top of the ridge, his heavy brow furrowed in irritation as his piercing gaze racked over his siblings.

Electulu of the Brass Flute, also known as the Diva of a Thousand Voices, stood closest to Pliazli, her delicate hand reaching out to caress the beast-like Pliazli's shoulder. Her bald head was tattooed in swirling multicolored patterns, many of which contained references to operas or epic songs, as well as instruments and song notes. She wore a flowing rose colored dress that set off her mahogany skin and gray eyes, and she stared nervously down at the city below.

Standing next to Electulu, his lean form dressed in an expensive suit tailored to make him appear leaner than he actually was, was Artix the Sculptor, his delicate effeminate features seemingly unconcerned with the carnage below them. At his hip rode a clean and functional rapier that went without adornment or ornamentation. His lips were curved in a slight smile at the sights and sounds below them.

In front of all of them, squatting down in the grass, her hand at the edge of the cliff, was Aveliene, dressed in her blood red leather armor, her belt festooned with not only her jackal-man fighting daggers, but climbing equipment. Beside her were lengths of heavy chain that gleamed in the sunlight.

"He's having himself a good old time, isn't he?" Artix observed, his voice distantly amused.

"I wonder what idiot caused it," Electulu spat, glaring at the scene in front of her.

"It doesn't matter, Step-Mother sent us here to take care of him, for we love him just as she does," Aveliene answered without turning around. "This is worse than I've ever seen him, so I'm going to need help this time."

Pliazli just grunted, moving over to the others, his thick arms swinging forward so that he could use his fists for balance as far forward as he leaned. He shrugged thick shoulders, the muscle so heavy that he looked hunchbacked.

Beyond the ridge lay a city hundreds of years old, famous for tall buildings and lofty towers, a city which prided itself on its force of arms, its standing army and the strength of its mage-corps. The population numbered in the tens of thousands, supported by the vast farms, orchards and ranches that surrounded the city, as well as the fishing industry that had only been partially supplanted in the harbors by the huge naval force the city had built up. The outer wall of the city was hundreds of feet tall, having withstood the sieges common during the long Lich King War.

The city that had been, with its marble sheathed buildings, lofty towers and mighty military strength, was now cast down. The great inner walls, some higher even than the outer walls, were shattered. Buildings, some as tall as fifty stories, were smashed and crushed. Staring at the city made Pliazli's eyes adjust, letting him see close up, his vision sharpening like a hawk's as he surveyed the city in the process of being destroyed.

The tiny figures of people were of no concern to the Wraith-Killer, whose eyes were even sharper than his siblings, nor were the collapsing or destroyed buildings. Not even the broken and half sunk ships were of any importance, despite the fact that they comprised the pride of the city-state's navy.

Like everyone else, he was focusing on the figure in full heavy war machine assault armor, swinging a massive war-axe in one hand and his shield with the other. The figure towered over the buildings, and as Pliazli watched the armored figure swung his axe into a ostentatious marble building, the massive axe biting deep into the building, crushing its way through six floors. With a roar of rage that shook the entire area, the figure tore its axe free and continued to hack on the building.

"Look at him, I don't think I've ever seen him this bad," Electulu said softly, calling on the names of several Gods of Mercy as she brought her knuckles up to her forehead.

Pliazli stayed silent, tracing the armor with his gaze, his brain automatically telling him that the massive metal plates were yards thick, that the figure was easily fifty times the size of a normal man.

"Who?" Pliazli asked, using his elbow to shift the stock of his custom made crossbow to a more comfortable position.

Below the quartet the massive armored figure, his face hidden behind a carved steel mask that displayed a bestial face, threw his head back and bellowed in rage again, raising his axe above his head.

"No idea, not that it matters. We need to do something about him before he moves on from the city and we lose something important, like a nearby mountain range or a couple empires," Aveliene told the others.

Movement caught Pliazli's predatory gaze as the pouch at the massive figure's belt bulged and a massive lizard head poked out, the head extending out nearly thirty feet on its thick neck. It's huge eyes blinked as it gazed around before opening its maw.

"PEEEEEEP!" the roar thundered out, shaking the quartet's bones. The normally apricot-pit sized head was the size of a full adult dragon's.

"By the dead gods!" Electulu jerked back. "What in the name of our Step-Mother's ever widening ass is that?"

Aveliene's mouth quirked. "That, dear little sister, is the Peeper of Woe and Ruin."

"PEEEEEEP!"

Pliazli nodded, still judging distance, windspeed, deflection, everything he'd need to use his specialized skills.

"What am I here for, Avie?" Electulu asked.

"She needs witnesses, beloved," Pliazli told his egg-twin, still staring at the massive form now ripping apart the building where the nobles of the city-state met with his axe and sweeps of his huge shield. "This would be meaningless without witnesses."

"Why would witnesses matter, it would still get done," Artix asked, not that he didn't know, but rather that ritual and formulae demanded it. The dapper Wraith-Killer noticed that the words almost said themselves, leaving him feeling like he was only the vehicle.

It wasn't a new feeling to the Wraith-Killer, he'd occasionally been used by the Fates, by the Mistress of Dawn or the Master of Dusk, by forces beyond his comprehension. It still amused him to no end, although it frustrated and angered many of his siblings.

The massive peeper down below bellowed again, its tongue flicking out to snatch a group of flying war-mages out of the air and pull them into its mouth like it was grabbing a tasty bug.

Pliazli grinned viciously.

"There must be witness to the Herald of Carnage being bound." Electulu said, and despite the dry, unemotional tone, her face displayed irritation.

"And thus will the Peeper of Ruin and Woe slumber." Pliazli's voice was smooth and cultured, unemotional and distant. Artix smiled at the change from Pliazli's usual grunting speech. Every century that went by the other Wraith-Killer seemed more and more beastial, only his attachment to his egg-twin, Electulu, keeping him within the bonds that the Wraith-Killers had and under the control of their Step-Mother. Artix chuckled, even when Pliazli glared at him.

"All right, enough talk," Aveliene snapped. "Electulu, you'll need to put this in song, I don't care what you call it, but you'll need to make sure it's distributed around the bardic college." She turned to Artix, who smiled benignly. "You'll need to do some artwork around it, sculptures, paintings, the like." She turned to the ape-like Pliazli, who held up a hand while bringing his custom designed crossbow around with the other.

"Know my part, Red. Not stupid." He grunted. Aveliene smiled and nodded.

She picked up the chains, throwing the heavy loops over her body. "Let's get started."

With a laugh, the Bladed Diva stepped off the edge of cliff and vanished silently.

"Silence. Attention bad," Pliazli growled, lifting up the unusually designed crossbow and putting the magically enhanced sight to his eye.

"Indeed it would be, old boy," Artix agreed. "Let's not gain the attention of the Herald of Carnage or the Peeper of Ruin and Woe."

"Concentration," was all Pliazli answered, but it was enough to shut the other two up as he scanned over the massive armored form of the Herald of Carnage.

He shut out his siblings, the sunshine, anything that didn't matter to his accuracy with his weapon.

His beloved elder sister needed him.

* * * * *

People were screaming around her as she dodged a fairly large chunk of marble that the Herald of Carnage had shaken from his axe, ducking under the spray of gore from the three people it had landed on and crushed into a grease spot. Seeing a large chunk of marble fall, Aveline leaped into the air, her inhuman strength propelling her twice the height of a man, and when she reached the edge of the slab of marble she kicked off from it, angling toward the next large piece of falling rubble, ducking beneath a chunk of marble the size of a pumpkin.

Aveliene laughed as she dodged falling rubble, jumping from piece to piece to gain height as she moved. Her preternatural senses were operating at their fullest, her reflexes completely released, and her strength was able to be used in full force as she leapt inhuman distance with each light appearing step.

"Must get higher. Must get higher," she chanted, jumping from falling slab of marble to a large chunk of the inner core of the wall, managing to gain nearly fifty feet of height.

On the hill Pliazli stroked the trigger of the crossbow, the deep thrum of the magically enhanced steel string resonating through his entire being. The bolt leapt from his weapon with a sharp crack as the magic in the bolt accelerated it beyond the thrust imparted by the string. Without bothering to see if the shot went home, he reached down to the quarrel on his thigh and drew another bolt out to load the weapon.

She threw one hand out, grabbing a hold on the edge of the thick metal plate, her hand finding purchase in one of the engravings that were now almost a foot deep. She flexed one arm, propelling herself upward, and reached out toward the blank steel with complete faith despite the fact there was nothing for her to grab.

With a sharp crack a crossbow bolt slammed into the armor, burying half the foot long length into the enchanted alloy that made up the armor plate. Aveliene wrapped her hand around the bolt, pulling herself up and curling around, the motion like a gymnast, propelling herself feet first up the plate. She rotated smoothly, reaching out and finding another crossbow bolt embedded in the enchanted metal a split second after it had hit.

Bolts fired seconds before she needed to grab them, while deeply engraved patterns in the metal and the edge of gilding on the plates provided ledges allowing her to move quickly up Fraker's body, the chains jingling as she moved. Despite the weight and her shifted center of balance she moved flawlessly, eons of experience and inhuman skill enabling her to climb her Step-Brother's massive form.

At his waist she paused, one foot standing on the edge of the steel plate that made up part of the guarding skirt of the armor, the other foot in mid-air, one hand holding onto a crossbow bolt, and the other hand darting back to grab the end of one of the loops of chain. She shrugged, letting the loop of chain fall toward the ground, and drove the link in her hand against the plate of armor she was pressed against.

With a flash of magic the link merged with the enchanted plate. Aveliene flung herself upward with a grunt, using the crossbow bolt to propel her higher, another bolt driving into the armor just as her momentum ran out so she could grab onto it and hang there for a moment. Looking down, she saw that the chain was growing, thickening and lengthening toward the ground. She smiled a sharktoothed grin and threw herself upward again, heading for the center of the back plate. When she reached it, she repeated her action, letting one of the coils of chain fall from her shoulder while she slapped the end against the plate.

Again the link flashed, melding with the armor, and the length of chain fell, seemingly endless, until it hit the ground. When the end of the chain hit the ground it caused debris to fly upward and it seemed to burrow into the earth.

Aveliene kept moving, attaching the chains at the back of the arms, the back of the thighs and calves, until she finally attached one to the back of the massive helmet before scrambling over the top of it. She slid down the front, falling from the lip, and grabbed the engraved mask at the front so she dangled in front of one blood red eye.

"Sorry about this, little brother," she said, swaying back and forth as the figure roared and tried to lift its axe. The chains on the back of its biceps and forearms, on the wrists and elbows, prevented it from lifting its arms and the massive figure roared again in rage.

"You know how it goes, you don't get to wreck up the world." Aveliene smiled. The eye blinked, she leaned forward and quickly kissed the eyelid, pulling back and out of range of the massive eyelashes before she could get tangled in them. "But just remember that Step-Mother and I love you."

She reached behind her and pulled free a circle made of golden metal that flashed in the sun. The sides of the band that made up the circle were covered in eye watering runes that moved and twisted in the sunshine. She waved it in front of the massive eye.

"With this, thou shalt be bound," Aveliene said gravely.

And let go.

She dropped down the front of the massive figure, the metal cliff-like slab of armor sliding past her as she fell. Chains began emerging from the circle, heavy chains that brought to mind bridge spans rather than prisoners. The circle was humming with power, becoming warm and sticky in Aveliene's hands as she fell.

Still falling she suddenly leaned forward, slapping the circle against the steel, and let go, still dropping through the air. She looked up and saw the circle widening, gaining in size. The chains attached to the circle, crawling across the metal to eventually wrap over the shoulders and around the waist to curl around the back and meet up at the chain she had attached in the middle of the back.

She flexed her legs, not bothering to look, knowing that the crossbow bolt that appeared and lodged into the metal would be there when she needed it. Her foot hit the bolt, she flexed at the knees, and sprang from the bolt toward the left. Another bolt that provided her a handhold to swing from and keep going across the chest. A third gave a foothold to spring from, arcing out into thin air as the expanse of chest began to curve away from her.

Below her and to her right she saw the massive head of the Peeper of Ruin as it flicked out a tongue and scooped up another flight of war-mages into its vast maw. She reached out idly and grasped the crossbow bolt speeding through the air. The momentum pulled her to her right, and she held on for a moment before letting go.

PEEEEEEP! Thundered out, shaking the air, vibrating Aveliene's bones, as the Peeper of Ruin and Woe let loose with its terrible cry. She looked below her and could see the strap of the pouch lid flapping free. She rolled in mid-air so she was moving feet first, and pulled her legs in.

The crossbow bolt shot by with a sharp crack and Aveliene kicked out, her feet hitting the foot long bolt and propelling her downward. She spread her arms, falling toward her target, and narrowed her eyes. The speed made her braided ponytail snap straight out behind her, her inhuman eyes water slightly until the hard transparent membrane flicked over them.

Reaching out, she managed to grab the branch thick leather thong of the belt-pouch, pulling it downward with her momentum, the pouch-cover pulling close.

The Peeper of Ruin gave an angry cry as it pulled its head into the pouch to avoid being choked by the edge of the pouch, the volume of the angry lizard making the cry hammer at Aveliene's delicate hearing.

One of her eardrums burst and a worm of red blood oozed from her ear.

When the cover hit and the lip of it slid over the front, momentum made the cord in Aveliene's hand bounce back upwards. A crossbow bolt whizzing by allowed her to kick out against it, redirecting the bounce so that she wrapped the thick leather thong around the bottom of a massive metal stud sticking out of the leather of the pouch. As she swung upward she swallowed thickly, knowing what was coming next.

At the top of the arc the thong pulled to the left, and Aveliene found herself swinging in smaller and smaller circles, the speed increasing with each rotation, until she let go on the third circle, flying feet first toward the ground far below.

Looking up she saw that the pouch was securely shut and that the Peeper of Ruin was trapped inside. She smiled and looked down at the rapidly approaching ground, seeing that she was going to land just in front of one of the Herald of Carnage's massive feet.

Up on the hill, Artix watched his sister fall. In front of him his easel was set up and he held a palette in one hand with a paintbrush in the other. Artix could feel history and destiny speeding toward a single moment, almost ready to collide, and was ready for the inevitable collision.

Beside him Electulu was humming softly, her eyes watching the entire scene as she composed the fall of the city and the binding of the Herald of Carnage. Artix knew that Electulu would craft an epic out of the entire thing, that the bald woman had no choice in the matter, destiny and the fates would drive her to do it just as they would drive him to paint. Artix smiled, knowing Electulu hated being forced to do anything, and the feeling of irritation from her made his smile broader.

Artix actually enjoyed being a tool of the Fates, of Dawn and Dusk. To Artix it gave his artwork even more meaning, more depth, and he relished each time the Fates reached out to him.

The Wraith-Killer felt destiny and history peak, the air shimmer with promise, and licked the tip of his brush, pulling his attention back to his eldest sister as she plummeted to the ground.

He could almost feel the crash of destiny as Aveliene hit the ground, her knees bending, rubble puffing up around her, as one fist crashed into the ground.

She was kneeling on one knee, her right fist pressed into the ground, her head bowed, her braid undone and her long red hair fanned out around her head. From her eyes two tears had fallen, hanging in mid-air for an endless moment, her expression sorrowful at what she was done.

There

Artix flourished his brush, dabbed the tip in brown paint, and began to paint the scene that he had just seen play out. In his mind he knew the title, could perfectly visualize the scene in his mind, and his hands pulsed with the need to create the work of art to immortalize the moment.

Down below them the Herald of Carnage roared and strained against the chains that descended from its body to plunge into the ground. With a roar it managed to take a single half step forward, the chains creaking metallically. From the ground rose raw stone, the chains sunk into the rock.

Aveliene stood up and dusted her hands against her pant legs before looking up. Tears streaked her dirty face as she stared at the massive figure looming above her. It took another half step, the massive foot raising up slightly, passing over her head by several feet, and thundering to the ground. She glanced at the stone being pulled from the ground by the chains and shook her head. She darted ahead, under the hand that held the massive axe in a steel clad grip.

The figure tried to take another step, but found the chains embedded in the back of the arm that held the axe immovable. It pulled the arm back, creating slack in the massive chain, and slammed the arm forward with the crash of steel chains.

It did no good, the arm could not come forward. It tried again, and again, and yet again, but the chains were unyielding. With a roar of rage the figure opened its hand, letting the massive axe fall from its grip toward the ground, convinced it would just pick it up once the pesky chains were swept away.

Aveliene pulled a belt-pouch from her belt and ran forward, opening the top, so she stood beneath the massive axe as it plunged downward. She held the open pouch above her, watching as the ornate and cruel axe fell toward her. As the massive haft, easy ten feet thick, approached the small mouth of the pouch it thinned, coming almost to a point, that plunged into the pouch. The axe began to narrow, as if it was being squeezed, until it vanished into the leather pouch with a flash of light.

The massive figure of the Herald of Carnage roared in fury and tried to swipe at Aveliene but the chains pulled tight, preventing it from stooping close to the ground. With another bellow it took a half step forward, this time the arm that had been held back pulling forward with the crackling roar of straining stone.

"Be well, beloved little brother," she said softly as she attached the heavy belt pouch to her belt. She wept as she moved deeper into the ruined city, moving away from the massive form of the Herald of Carnage. "Sleep within the Herald. Once its rage is spent, I will come and find you and release you from these chains."

Behind her, the Herald of Carnage bellowed its rage and struggled to move forward, tearing the mountain it would drag behind it from the bones of the earth beneath the city.

Aveliene drew on of her jackal-man fighting daggers from the sheathes that rode on her thighs as she moved through the rubble, sniffing at the air and sampling it with a serpentine tongue.

Somewhere in the wreckage was the person or persons who had turned her beloved little brother into the Herald of Carnage. The shifting pull of fate and destiny told her that they had survived the devastation wreaked by the Herald, and that made anger burn inside of her like a living flame.

She intended on killing them. Slowly. Painfully. Until their suffering was legendary among the Lords of Hell.

Behind her, on the hill, Artix painted and Electulu hummed. Pliazli stood up, slinging the crossbow over his shoulder, and glanced at the other two. Artix he barely gave any thought to, but his eyes glowed warmly as he watched Electulu in the throes of creation.

"Gonna help Red," he grunted, moving forward and kissing Electulu on the cheek. Artix turned and raised one eyebrow questioningly. Pliazli grunted again, turning toward the city. "My little brother too."

With that, Plaizli stepped off the cliff and vanished.

Artix smiled as he watched the Herald of Carnage take one slow step that took several minutes to complete, the massive figure straining against the chains that bound him to the mountain that was rising up behind him.

When he was done, he would go help.

Nobody hurt his little brother and got away with it.

Electulu turned away from the Herald of Carnage, walking toward where she had left a horse. She would ride it to the City of Crimson Waters where she would finish composing the poem that was whirling in her mind. The more distance between the Herald of Carnage and herself, the better.

In the city, the Herald of Carnage, which had inhabited the shell of Fraker the Axe, roared out its rage and strained against the chains that bound it.