This Kultra story takes place BEFORE the character intro. Even though this is set in the Dragon's Inn world of Ifreann, this story was not posted on the newsgroup. Adult language and some sexuality push this tale beyond the generally-accepted "PG-13" rating of the Alt.Dragons-Inn newsgroup. I would consider this one to be a solid "R." So, if you aren't old enough to watch a decent horror movie by yourself... then what are you doing reading this site anyway?!?

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Kultra: Fist of the Gods

Kultra shoved his way out of the underbrush with an annoyed growl. As he did so, a blade-vine slashed his right cheek, opening up a deep cut on his already scarred face.

"Dammit!"

Kultra wiped the blood off with his hand and then smeared it onto his vest. He then placed both hands on his hips and took in the sight that greeted him.

The town was by no means large, from what Kultra could see it consisted of only three or four main streets, the largest of which began exactly where he stood. The road was lined on both sides with various shops... a smithy, a weaponer, a few outfitters and more taverns than Kultra cared to count at the moment. The street continued relatively straight until it vanished from sight. A few other roads intersected it a seemingly random intervals. There were hardly any townsfolk about, and those that were visible all seemed to be in their mid-fifties or older. A few gray haired women shot him some dirty looks as they hurried up and down the streets.

Town full of geezers. Great. More attitude I don't need.

Beyond the far side of the city, a small mountain (which really seemed more like a large hill) rose from the surrounding forest. A small path wound up the side of the mountain and ended at its peak, upon which sat what looked like a temple. Thick, decorated columns and high, arched entryway were barely visible from this distance.

"What a shit-hole." mumbled Kultra.

The assassin was no prize, himself. His sleeveless vest was severely torn and smeared with filth, and now, blood. The muscular arms bore bloody welts from his trip through the brush. His pants were in a similar state as the vest... the left leg was ripped away at mid-calf and the right was missing entirely. Kultra's hair was caked with mud, and his face consisted of just a few patches of pale skin peeking out from a thick layer of dirt.

For some inexplicable reason, his entire body reeked of rotten fish.

Kultra stepped into the town and made his way down the main street. What few elderly locals he encountered quickly sped away from him without so much as a 'hello.'

As he passed one building... a tall, bald man wearing a white priest's robe suddenly emerged and the two men collided. Kultra left a large brown smear on the man's robe. He jumped back and eyed Kultra in a very un-priestly manner. The man was barely out of his teens, and was the youngest person Kultra had seen so far. Much too young to be a full priest.

Probably a cleric of some sort.

"Why don't you look where you're going?" said the man. His voice was soft and almost musical... it certainly didn't fit with the words that had just been spoken

"Look. After the week I just had, you really...really... REALLY don't want to FUCK with me, okay?"

The priest glared at Kultra and then walked away.

"...yeah, just like I THOUGHT!" Kultra continued down the street, oblivious to the fact that the direction the priest had taken wasn't the same way he was heading when he emerged from the building.

Suddenly realizing that he was hunger, Kultra stepped into the first tavern he came to. The patrons, mostly toothless old men and wire-haired hags, all looked up at him as he stood in the doorway.

What IS this? thought Kultra. Where are all the young people?

He forgot his question when the tavern's sole waitress emerged from the back room carrying a tray of drinks. The woman was of medium height, with brown hair and a figure that caused Kultra to do a double-take. Shapely hips and a voluptuous bust were half-hidden beneath the unflattering apron, but their presence was still enough to draw Kultra's eye. Her face was draw down in a somewhat sad expression. Then there was something more that the assassin sensed from her... a feeling of... loss?

"Either leave or SIDDOWN!!" spat one of the elderly patrons, obviously senile. "There's a breeze comin' through that door and you're STINKIN' up the place!"

The waitress looked up from her duties, saw Kultra, and frowned. Kultra frowned back and sat himself down at the nearest table. After an overly-long wait, the waitress approached.

"What can I get for you?" she asked half-heartedly.

"How about you pour yourself into a glass and I take you with me?"

The waitress blinked, paused, and then started to walk away.

"Wait!" Kultra reached out and grabbed her arm. The waitress tried to jerk free, but she found Kultra's grip was exceedingly strong. She looked back at the filthy assassin, her eyes traveled over his mud-encrusted body, pausing briefly at his broad chest and muscular arms.

Kultra released her.

"What do you want?"

"Ale and a meal... whatever you got. Plus a bowl of water."

"You got money?"

"No."

"Then you'd better go-"

"But I got this..." Kultra reached into his vest and pulled out a dagger. The craftsmanship was excellent, although the weapon was slightly dirty. Kultra held the knife up by the handle.

"I got my own knives." retorted the waitress.

"Look... I got no money, but I'm hungry and thirsty. The way I see it... you've got two options. You can take this blade as payment, or I can use it to kill you and everybody in here, then make myself a feast out of whatever's in your pantry. What's it going to be?"

"I'll take the blade."

Kultra flipped the blade and offered it hilt-first to the waitress. She snatched it out of his hand.

"I'll bring you water to drink, and whatever you want to eat."

"What do you have?"

"Fish."

"Uugh!" Kultra's stomach heaved. "No fish... what else?"

"Soup. Bread."

"That's it?"

"Not many suppliers come this way, now. Hunters left last month. Soup or Fish?"

"Soup, then."

The waitress walked off; Kultra watched the sway of her hips as she rounded the corner and disappeared into the back room. She returned a few minutes later with a tankard and two bowls... a small one filled with soup, and a larger one containing water.

"I need a rag." said Kultra.

The waitress snatched a dirty rag out of her belt and tossed it onto the table.

"Anything else?" she said, her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Yeah...your name."

The waitress looked at him.

"Well?"

"Aramia."

"Well, Ramia... I am Kultra the Magnificent. Assassin. Spy. Killer of Man and Beast."

The waitress rolled her eyes and quickly walked away. Again, Kultra's eyes ran over every inch of her backside as it bounced lightly from side to side. He smiled, licked his lips, and then turned his attention to the food in front of him.

The soup was watery, and contained only carrots, potatoes and a few unidentifiable lumps. No meat. The water contained a fair amount of dirt, but not nearly as much as Kultra's skin did.

Kultra dipped the rag into the water bowl and began cleaning himself off. However, after only a few swipes, the rag, water-bowl, and his face all contained equal amounts of grime.

"Gonna need a bath." grumbled Kultra in between slurps of soup. He raised his arm and waved for the waitress.

"What now?" she said. Kultra noticed she was standing just out of arm's reach.

"I need a room. Know of anyone who'll let me stay for one night?"

"I...my family... runs a small in across the street. You have another dagger you want to trade or are you going to just kill us for our beds?"

"Well," Kultra made an obvious show of examining the waitress's firm body, "I'm sure we can work something out."

Suddenly the waitress stiffened. Her face went white with a combination of rage and fear, and her hands curled into tight fists. At first, Kultra thought it was because of his comments, but then he followed her hateful gaze to the four youths that were standing in the doorway. T

They wore the same robe as the man Kultra had bumped into on the street, and in fact, Kultra recognized that man in the very rear of the group. They were all young, bald, and adorned with a strange silver symbol hanging from a simple chain around their necks. Kultra noticed that all of the other patrons had stopped drinking and were in the process of leaving. The quartet scanned the room slowly... their eyes paused on the waitress, and then moved on to settle firmly on Kultra.

"These people trouble?" Kultra whispered to the waitress. She nodded slightly.

"You want your knife back?" she said.

"Don't need it."

Kultra stood and faced the men. Two of them lowered their eyes, as if in prayer. The third continued to stare at Kultra, while the forth simply stood outside and watched.

"You are a dirty one." said the priest. "But you look-"

"I don't want any trouble here, gentlemen." said Kultra. The added after a pause: "No, wait... that's a lie. If YOU want trouble, then lets get on with it. Otherwise I think you boys should leave."

"You are unarmed, shai-thatan" said the priest.

Kultra looked down briefly at his arms and hands.

"Name's Kultra, and there's nothin' wrong with my arms."

"We must test you..." One of the other priests stopped praying and looked up. He stepped towards Kultra.

"I got no qualms about killing priests. Or whatever you are." Kultra stepped back with his right leg and settled into a loose fighting stance. He flexed his muscles slightly and wiggled his finger at the approaching man.

"Good," said the priest. "The testing is to the death, shai-thatan. We will gladly give our lives for the Katiihar."

He screamed and attacked.

"Oh, please.."

Kultra leapt into the air and twisted at the waist... bringing a flying roundhouse kick to the priest's head. But the lithe youth jerked his head backwards just in time to avoid having his jaw dislocated. The instant Kultra landed, the priest responded with a front kick and a spinning back-fist, that were both easily blocked. Kultra countered with a front kick of his own that ruffled the priest's robe as the man spun out of the way.

"No ordinary priest..." said Kultra.

"We live for the Katiihar!" shouted the youth. "We die for the Katiihar!"

Kultra glanced at the remaining priests. The leader was watching stoically, a silent priest prayed beside them. Behind them, the fourth man nodded to himself. Neither of them showed any signs that they wished to join the attack.

"hiiii--YAAAH!"

The priest launched into a series of kicks and punches and drove Kultra back several feet as he blocked and attempted to counter. Soon, he felt his back bump against the a table.

"All right... enough of his fancy shit!" In one swift movement, Kultra twisted, grasped the edge of the table and brought it around in a deadly arc towards the priest's head.

"ya-HAAAA!"

The table split in half from the priest's punch. The youth's face was frozen in a stern scowl, his arm still extended in the rigid blow that had shattered the thick wooden table.

Kultra was gone.

"Coward!" shouted the priest.

"uhh... excuse me."

Kultra, who had used the table as a diversion allowing him to sneak *behind* the priest, gently tapped the man on the back of the head... with his fist.

The priest staggered and hit the ground, but quickly rolled to a crouching position. The man's eyes were slightly out of focus, and he was struggling to maintain his balance.

"Thro-Hoothan!" shouted the head priest. A second priest rushed to join his comrade.

"Now let us see a TRUE test of worthiness, shai-thatan!" said the second priest. Behind him, the first man slowly got up off the floor.

"Two against one?" said Kultra. "That's not fair... to you. You'd need at LEAST seven or eight-"

"HIIIIII!!!" both men rushed him. Kultra ducked his head and dove between the two, then quickly sent a back-kick into one of the priest's lower spine. The man went down, but his comrade had already turned and was about to introduce Kultra to the back of his fist. Kultra ducked under the blow and buried his own fist into the priest's solar plexus. As the priest doubled over, Kultra brought his knee up an smashed it into the priest's face. He then spun away just quick enough to dodge the other priest's 'sneak' attack.

Kultra dove to the floor, rolled, and jumped up several feet away. He spun to face the priests, who were looking at him with bloodied faces and bruised heads.

"Fwa-Yohiyah!" shouted one of them. They both made a quick motion with their hands... Kultra blinked and then did a double take. Both priests were now armed with swords.

"What?" said Kultra. "Where were hiding THOSE?"

"Swords of Belief," shouted one of them with near-fanatical verve. "Physical manifestations of our faith in Bothal and our dedication to the Katiihar!"

"Nice trick. Seen better, though."

"For the Katiihar!" they both screamed. Each priest moved forward. They didn't approach Kultra directly, but appeared to be circling around in an obvious flanking maneuver.

Weaponless, Kultra grabbed another table and swung it at the closest priest. The man's sword sliced through the thick wood a bit too easily...

enchanted swords... great...

As the table disintegrated, one of the heavy wooden legs came loose in his hand. Kultra used it to block the second priest, swatting the sword away by hitting at the blade. The sword cut through the table leg at a sharp angle, leaving Kultra with a short, yet sharp, wooden stake. Not realizing that Kultra was now armed, the first priest stepped in with a downward slice. Kultra buried the stake in the soft tissue of the man's stomach.

The priest's white robe blossomed with the red of his life's blood. Kultra grabbed the priest and spun him around, bringing the dying body between him and the other swordsman. The priest was still gasping...

"Die, dammit! Here... let me help." Kultra grasped the man by the chin and twisted. He felt the priest's neck snap.

And then the power began to flow...

"We die for the Katiihar!" shouted the remaining priest. His swung his sword in a sideways arc...

As the dead youth's soul departed, Kultra felt the death-energy flowing through his body like ice-water in his veins. Everything slowed to a crawl... the sword angling towards his head... the drops of blood dripping from the priest's mouth... Kultra concentrated, and began to use the power that was his birthright. The death-energy saturated every cell in his body, and began to change him. His skin hardened and took on a greenish tint. His hair receded back into his skin, and was soon replaced with thick scales. His muscles bulged and shifted position, bones thickened and elongated. Joints twisted and translated along the transforming skeletal frame. His clothing wavered, became ephemeral, and vanished. His spine, already nearly twice it's normal length, continued to extend outward, forming a tail tipped with a wicked, bony barb.

The priest's sword, which had been aimed for Kultra's neck, now struck him in the lower arm. The blow bounced off of the heavy layer of reptilian scales with only minor damage done.

"...uhhhhh...." the priest staggered backwards, gaping at the eight-foot tall, upright lizard that had once been his opponent.

"Die for the Katiihar!" shouted the head priest. "It is an illusion! Die for the Katiihar!"

The sword-wielding youth gathered his wits, and then attacked. Kultra tossed the dead body to the side and prepared to strike. Powerful neck muscles flexed and pulsed with reptilian blood. No sooner had the priest stepped within range, Kultra shot forward and snapped his bulging jaws closed around the man's head. The sword impaled Kultra's arm, but the lizard was too busy enjoying the kill. Kultra threw his neck back, carrying the screaming priest along in his mouth. He snapped back and forth, several times, all the while he was sinking his teeth further into the priest's neck and shoulders.

Finally the man ceased his struggles. Kultra felt more death energy pour into him. He quickly removed the sword that was protruding from his arm, and then used this fresh supply of energy to heal the wound.

Before him, the head priest stepped forward.

"So this one possesses magic as well! We must test this aspect of the shai-thatan..." He raised his arms and began to chant. Blue arcs of energy began to crackle between his outstretched hands.

Not wanting to see what the priest was preparing to throw at him, Kultra leaned forward and twisted sharply with his waist and legs. His barbed tale whipped through the air with all the force this reptilian body could muster...

KA-SNAAAP!!!

Both halves of the priest's body fell to the ground. The crackling blue energy fizzled and died.

Kultra focused his attention on the one remaining youth... the one who had bumped into him on the street. The man took one look at Kultra and broke into a run.

Kultra followed, covering great distances with each fantastic leap. He smashed through the tavern's doorway and bolted down the street after the fleeing man. He caught him in seconds and sank his huge talons into the priest's back. Kultra ripped away thick chunks of flesh until the body went still.

Once again, death energy flowed into him. Kultra seized the power and commanded his flesh to return to its original form. Scales receded, muscles shrank, and clothing reappeared.

"Ahhh...." he said walked back into the tavern. Aramia, the waitress was standing in the middle of the room surveying the damage. Not much was broken, but there was blood and gore everywhere. It would take a VERY long time to clean.

"Explain!" bellowed Kultra.

"...explain..." she repeated the word as if she had never heard it before.

"Who were the priests... why were they fucking with me... and what the HELL is a Catty-Hair?"

"Katii-HAR. Ceremony of Bothal, Fist of the Gods."

"And the relationship to me is WHAT, exactly?"

"They want to sacrifice you, but first they had to test your worthiness." Aramia spat the words out with disgust.

"They do this often?" Kultra plopped himself down in a chair, oblivious to the bloody carnage around him.

"Every fifty years, Bothal comes to the great temple. He manifests himself in the flesh, and the QuVol... the priesthood... they make sacrifices to him. They take the most beautiful woman, and the strongest, most skilled warrior in the village. They slit their throats before Bothal just as he emerges from the sacred fire."

"Nice." said Kultra. "This Bothal..."

"Fist of the gods. Rage incarnate. That is why there are no more hunters, why only the old and infirm are left in town. Every hundred years the search begins for the cho-thatan... the warrior sacrifice. Hunters, warriors, adventurers... they all steer clear of this place until the time of the Katiihar has passed."

"Great. Just my luck. Why don't you people just leave?"

"Why should we? It's only once every fifty years. This is very peaceful and quiet place during the other times."

"So you deal with it... and when the Catty-Hair comes around everybody who can fight clears out."

"Yes."

"I WOULD say that that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard... but it actually makes sense in a warped sort of way. Well, if you see any more of your buddies, tell them it's been fun..." Kultra rose and started towards the door.

"Wait!"

"What? Want to keep me here while your QuVol friends re-group?"

"They're not my friends. They're a blight on this town and I want nothing more than to see them all dead. That's why... that's why I want you to sit down and listen to what I have to say."

Kultra stopped and turned around slowly, a slight smile twisted its way across his lips.

"You wanting to make an arrangement, then?"

"Maybe. You can fight... and that other thing you did. I've never seen-"

"Get to the point."

"I said the priests make two sacrifices. One is a warrior, tried and tested in battle with the QuVol. The other is a woman, the most beautiful in the town."

"You?"

"My sister. They took her last night. We couldn't fight back, and there's no one else in the town who can help. I... I want you to bring her back so that we can escape. That's why I stayed... hoping that someone would come-"

"Sorry. I don't do hero shit. Against my religion."

"What religion prevents you from helping those in need?"

"The religion that says that the whole world would be a much better place if people would take care of their own problems instead of waiting for somebody else to come along and do it for them."

"But the priests are trained fighters, I'm just a woman-"

"Women got two arms and two legs just like everybody else. I know plenty of women that can fight, but most of ya prefer to sit around on your ass while we go out and get ourselves gutted. No thanks."

"That's not fair. And it's not true, either!"

"I call it as I see it. You want your sister, you go up there and get her yourself. I'm moving along to the next town, and I sincerely hope it isn't a fucked up as THIS one...." Kultra started towards the door once more.

"But... but I'm willing to pay!"

Kultra stopped dead in his tracks.

"Well why didn't you SAY so?"

"I-"

"How much is your sister worth to you?"

"We don't have much."

"So what are we talking about, then?"

Aramia glanced briefly out the open tavern windows and saw that the street was still deserted. She reached behind her neck and untied her apron. The dirty rag fell to the floor, and she then began unbuttoning her blouse.

"I saw how you were loo..........." her words were lost on Kultra, who's full attention was focused on her emerging bosom. The blouse slowly peeled away from the rosy curves of Aramia's breasts. The sweet mixture of sweat and perfume wafted up to his nose. Kultra inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering. Aramia undid the last button and pulled the blouse completely open. Her breasts, full and round, stood out from her chest as if reaching for Kultra's open mouth. Crowning each of them was a perfect nipple... thick and erect, the kind that made Kultra's mouth water. Literally.

"......so do we have a deal?"

"huh? wha?" Kultra had forgotten that Aramia had been talking. He blinked five or six times, but still failed to tear his eyes away from the display before him. "uhh... deal uhhh.... I guess..."

Aramia snapped her blouse closed, and Kultra jerked back to reality.

"Do we have a deal?"

"One question." said Kultra, still licking his lips.

"What?"

"The priests chose your sister over you, which means that she is-"

"More beautiful? Yes. But I am sure that, should you free her, she would be at least as grateful as I."

"...at least..." repeated Kultra "Of course I demand payment from YOU in advance."

"I have to clean up this mess you made. Unless you want to help me do that as well..."

"I make 'em, but I generally don't clean 'em up. That'll cost ya more."

"hmmph." Aramia re-buttoned her shirt and retrieved her apron from the floor. She plucked a small key from the pocket and tossed it to Kultra. "You can go across the street and get cleaned up. Wait for me there, DON'T go wandering around town."

"You said you lived with your family. What about them?"

"My mother is dead. And my father is away."

"How far away?"

"Just go and wait for me."

Kultra smiled and watched Aramia's rear end as she walked into the back room. When she re-emerged with a bucket and a mop, the assassin was gone.

---

Kultra let himself into the Aramia's home with the key that she gave him, making sure to lock the door behind him The dwelling was apparently a large house that had been converted into an inn. The family slept in the two bedrooms on the bottom floor, while the guests claimed the rooms upstairs. Kultra mounted the steps and walked the hallway, pausing outside each door. All the rooms appeared to be empty. He tried one of the doors and found it open. Inside was a bed, a night-table, and a padded chair, but nothing else.

"Bare necessities." mumbled Kultra.

He closed the door and continued looking around until he found a room containing a fireplace and a huge copper tub. A few logs were piled up in one corner, and a metal bucket and a pile of towels sat in the opposite corner.

"Ah-HA!"

Thirty minutes later, Kultra sank down into a tub of hot water. A week's worth of dirt and grime took quite a while to wash away, but with a lot of soap and scrubbing, Kultra's skin finally emerged from the layers of caked-on mud. When he exited the tub, the water was completely brown, and not very pleasing to the nose. As he dried himself on the guest-towels, Kultra considered washing and re-filling the tub for Aramia, but decided against it.

Might start giving her ideas... thought Kultra. This is just a business arrangement... nothing more.

Since his clothes were beyond repair, Kultra wrapped a large towel around his waist and headed downstairs. When he passed the front window, he looked outside and saw that Aramia was just leaving the tavern.

...ahhhh.... I wonder which room is hers...

He unlocked the front door and then went on to try each room until he found one that was sufficiently feminine. He leapt onto the bed, thrust his hands behind his head, and waited. After a few minutes he heard the front door open, and then close.

"Are you here?" she called from the hallway.

"Your Prince awaits!" replied Kultra. He heard Aramia mumble something under her breath. "What was that?"

"Nothing. I shall be with you shortly. I-I need to bathe."

"That can wait."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite."

Aramia entered the bedroom, she stopped when she beheld Kultra's naked body. Her eyes traveled up and down his naked form, and then halted at one spot in particular. Aramia's face flushed and her eyes grew wide.

"What?" said Kultra.

"Oh... uh.... nothing. I just-"

"I AM a shape-shifter, you know. I can have whatever features I chose."

"Yes, but THAT is QUITE a feature!"

"Not really... Had I known of our arrangement before I killed that last priest, I would have prepared something truly spectacular for you."

"I don't think I can handle anything more spectacular than that!"

"Oh, come now. A woman of your beauty-"

"I'm not a professional, if that's what you're getting at."

"But I'm betting you're not a novice, either. Are you?"

"No. I'm not."

"Well then... let's see what you've learned so far..."

Aramia turned her back to Kultra and began untying her apron.

"Shy all of a sudden? Not that I mind the view from back here."

"Would you like to know more about the priesthood?" she said. The apron fell to the floor.

"It can wait."

"I would really like a bath..."

"You're stalling."

"I just-"

"You want your sister rescued or not?"

Aramia turned around and began unbuttoning her blouse once again.

"No, " said Kultra. "Let me." Kultra stood and approached the waitress. She took a tentative step backwards as he stood before her.

Kultra grasped the two sides of her blouse and ripped them apart violently. Buttons flew through the air, bounced off of the walls and clattered noisily onto the floor. Aramia drew a sharp, surprised breath, and Kultra took that opportunity to press his lips against hers. Aramia moaned in protest, but the assassin could not be denied.

Not that she wanted to deny him...

Kultra ran his hands across the smooth skin of her body. He caressed her sides and then worked his way up, stopping briefly to cup her breasts. Aramia's moan changed from one of protest to one of deep, yearning. Her nipples pressed into the palms of the assassin's deadly hands. Her lips opened, and their tongues met, each exploring the other.

Kultra's hands reluctantly left Aramia's breasts, but just temporarily. He reached up and pushed the ruined blouse off of her shoulders, baring more of her yielding flesh. The kiss deepened as one hand fell down her back and under the waist of her skirt. With the firmness of her buttock cradled in his hand, Kultra stepped in close and pressed himself against her. Aramia moaned once more as she felt his desire nudging into the warmth between her thighs. She spread her legs and pressed back against him, adding the slightest rotation to the thrust of her hips. It was Kultra's turn to moan.

With one, swift motion, Kultra stepped back and ripped Aramia's skirt and under-clothes away. He pulled her close to him once more, and felt her warmth throbbing against his 'feature.'

"There's a bed over there..." whispered Aramia between breaths.

"I know... but it would be a shame to break it."

The mere thought made Aramia shudder.

"Cold?" said Kultra.

Aramia opened her mouth to answer, but all that came out was a gasp as Kultra stepped back, grabbed her by the shoulders, and tossed her onto the bed.

Kultra stood over her and then leaned forward, placing his arms on either side of her shoulders. He brought his lips to hers only briefly, and then moved down to her neck. Aramia squirmed beneath him as his kisses traveled to her breasts. Kultra swirled his tongue around her protruding nipples for a maddening eternity before he took first one, and then the other fully into his mouth. As he sucked, Aramia's hips thrust upward, yearning to meet his. Kultra allowed a little of his weight to fall upon her, keeping her still while he continued to worship her breasts. Finally, he slid his body down slowly, tracing a path down her sternum and along her stomach with his tongue. Aramia groaned in anticipation, her legs widened, spreading of their own accord. Her treasure was an open invitation that the assassin had no intention of refusing...

---

"So," said Kultra a few hours later. "Tell me about this priesthood."

Aramia who was getting dressed as quickly as her sore muscles would allow, paused for a moment and turned to Kultra. The assassin was still lying across her bed, his naked, muscular body radiating a sense of strength that few men possessed after such an intense bout of lovemaking.

"The priests?"

"Forget already? Sister... priests.... Catty-Hair... Remember?"

"The Katiihar. The ceremony is tomorrow night, the priests are no doubt searching for you even as we speak."

"Will they come here? To his house?

"If they have reason to believe I'm hiding you, yes."

"Don't worry. I never was one for hiding. I'll find one creeping around alone, kill him, and then change into something a bit more appropriate."

"Kill him?"

"Not having a change of heart, are we?"

"Not at all. I was just wondering what killing him had to do with your... abilities."

"That's the way it works. When I kill someone, I absorb..." Kultra let the sentence drop. "Never mind; I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"You absorb the souls of those you kill?"

"NO!" shouted Kultra. "I do NOT take souls!" Aramia was taken aback by the assassin's reaction. She took a step towards the door...

"I'm sorry." she said. "I- I was just..."

"Forget it. If this Catty-Hair-"

"Katiihar."

"-is tomorrow night then I'd better get going. I should have your sister back before dawn. Then maybe we can work on a little reward."

"I've already paid you... an a little TOO much, I think."

"Not from you. "

Aramia nodded

"You'll need clothes. And a weapon or two."

"I don't NEED either. But I'll take what you have. What size does your father wear?"

"He's much smaller than you."

"Yeah, I'll bet."

"I think there's something in one of the guest rooms that will fit you. The last tenants left in quite a hurry once they found out about the Katiihar. There may be weapons, as well."

"These tenants...Adventurers? Warriors?"

"Yes. I suppose."

"And they ran from these kids in the funny robes?"

"Don't underestimate the QuVol, Kultra. There are more of them than you think... and they are all skilled in magic as well as the combat arts. You would be wise to consider an indirect approach-"

"Oh, so now you're telling me how to do my job, eh? I've been doing this since ... for a very long time. Now Fetch me those clothes and weapons."

"What about a drink? Some wine to send you off?"

"Sure. Just be quick about it... I'm burning moonlight, here."

Half-dressed in fresh clothes, Aramia left the room, followed closely by Kultra's roaming eye.

"...gratitude..." mumbled Kultra. "...there's nothing like grateful sisters to make my job worthwhile..."

A short while later, Aramia returned with two glasses filled with a pink wine. She sat them on a table and then stepped out in the hall way to retrieve the bundle of clothing and weapons that she had carried from downstairs. She dropped the bundle in the center of the floor and unwrapped it.

The weapons consisted of a three daggers and a rusty short-sword. The clothes was surprisingly similar to the style that Kultra usually wore... boots, pants and a sleeveless vest. They smelled old and musty, but were much cleaner than what he had been wearing earlier.

Kultra pulled on the pants and examined the sword. Meanwhile, Aramia sat down on the bed and watched him as he performed some feints and lunges to test the weapon's balance.

"There were some bracers, too," she added, "Wrist and leg, I think. But they were dented and looked useless."

"Armor is for sissies anyway." Kultra huffed, still swinging and striking at the air with the sword.

"Your wine, Kultra..."

Kultra made three flamboyant slices, as if sectioning an invisible opponent, then he sheathed the sword and joined Aramia on the bed. She handed him a glass.

Kultra sniffed the liquid... it smelled like fresh peaches.

"Do you like peach wine?" asked Aramia as she sipped hers.

Kultra dipped his finger into the wine and tasted it. He smiled, and then downed the entire glass in three gulps.

"Delicious." he said. Kultra burped loudly. "I'll have to have more when I return. And some more of this wine, too."

Kultra stood and donned his vest. It was inside out at first, but he quickly corrected it. After some fumbling with his belt, he secured the sword to his side and began examining the daggers. They were in much better condition than the sword. While testing the blade, Kultra accidentally cut his finger on one and dropped it. The blade sank deep into the wooden floor. He reached down to grab it, and ended up dropping the other two as well. After a few moments, Kultra retrieved the six... seven daggers from the floor and began stowing them away on his person. He hid one in each boot and strapped one to his belt on the opposite side from the sword. The others seemed to have vanished.

"Now," he said. "I think the priestssshts will be a little dishappionted THISH Catty-Hair..."

Kultra took one step towards the door and passed out, hitting the floor with a bone-jarring thud.

"That's Katiihar, you barbarian." said Aramia as Kultra began snoring at her feet. "...and I don't think we'll be the least bit disappointed. You shall make an excellent sacrifice."

...

Kultra awoke slowly and painfully. His head felt as if it had been stuffed with coarse rags, and a strong light from *somewhere* was boring into his eyeballs like a hot poker into a block of ice. It took a few moments for his senses to sort themselves out, and even then everything seemed distant... detached.

He was lying on his side on a hard, stone floor. There was just enough room for him to move around, not that his captors had left him that option. His feet were bound with a thick rope, and his hands were

tied behind his back. His weapons were gone, but that didn't surprise Kultra in the least. The floor and walls were carve entirely out of a strange type of marble, mostly white with faint blue veins. Their surfaces had been polished to a smooth perfection. High above his head was brilliant globe that glowed like a miniature sun. Kultra eyes couldn't maintain a glance long enough to determine its size, or even to see exactly how high the ceiling was.

The room had one opening. A large doorway with a high arch. There was no door, so Kultra could see out into the equally-bright hallway. There did not appear to be any guards.

With some jerking and straining, Kultra managed to rotate himself until he was pointed towards the hall. He wormed his way to within a few inches of it. Then he stopped.

Too easy. he thought There must be a force-field or some other ward protecting the door. The question is... is it a simple 'bounce your ass back into the cell' force-field, or is it a 'fry your ass like a potato in hot grease' force-field?

Kultra decided not to take the chance and began worming his way back from the doorway.

"Excellent choice." said a female voice. It was Aramia.

"Bitch!" spat Kultra as he looked up at his betrayer.

Aramia stood just outside the room. She was wearing a shapeless, white priest's robe that did nothing for her body. All of her voluptuous curves were hidden beneath the simple white cloth. However, Kultra did notice that her nipples were plainly visible. A silver chain bearing the familiar twisted charm fell between her breasts.

"I see you're awake."

"No thanks to you."

"Oh, I had no intention of killing you with the poison, I just had to subdue you long enough to bring you here."

"So it was all a lie, then. Your sister..."

"She's real enough. Right now she's in the room right next to this one, waiting to give her life's blood for the Katiihar."

"Your own sister?"

"We all must make sacrifices. Did you know I am the first... and only... woman to see the inside of the temple?"

"You must be very proud of yourself."

"I am. The priesthood rarely allows women into their ranks. And even when they do, we were always forbidden to witness the Katiihar and behold the divine rage of Bothal. But by capturing you, I have earned my place among the blessed soldiers."

"...blessed soldiers...." mocked Kultra

"Yes, those who witness the Katiihar will serve in Bothal's army when he returns to smite the unbelievers."

"Uh-huh. You realize now that I'm going to have to kill you."

Aramia smiled and shook her head.

"Even if you did, my name is already written in the book of Bothal. The doors of the temple have been sealed; the Katiihar is almost begun."

"How long have I been in here?"

"It is almost dawn. The Katiihar begins with the first rays of the sun. We greet the eye of the gods with prayers and combat, then we will observe the Stone of Telling, which will reveal all of Bothal's glorious rage as it has been bestowed upon us from the very first Katiihar. Then we-"

"Get to the part that involves me. How long do I have to escape and kill all of you stupid fucks?"

"You shall observe the Stone with us, then you will be taken for cleansing and preparation while the faithful test each other in combat once again. At nightfall, the high-priest begins the ceremony that summons Bothal. At its culmination, the sacrifices are brought forth and their throats are slit just as Bothal emerges from the portal. The last sight you see shall be his mighty countenance. As your life's blood coats the floor beneath his feet, you shall look up into his eyes and-"

"I get the picture."

"I'm sure you THINK you do... but the grand majesty of it all is unimaginable. The Stone will give us but a hollow reflection of Bothal's divine fury."

"I've heard enough. How about you leave so I can start making my escape plans, eh?"

"There is no escape. Even if you get out of that cell, which is quite impossible, the doors of the temple have sealed."

"If I had a gold coin for every time I've heard those exact same words.... I'd have a helluva lot of gold coins."

"Make jokes if you wish. Your-"

A loud gong reverberated through the hallway. Its direction was obscure; It appeared to come from all directions at once.

Aramia's face broke into a wide grin.

"The call to prayers!" she said giddily, "The Katiihar has begun!"

She spun on her toes and literally skipped down the hall and out of site. Several other white-robed acolytes appeared from various directions and followed behind her, although at a much more restrained pace.

Kultra was left in silence for a few moments, and then the sound of low chanting carried down the stone corridors.

"Fuck." he said.

---

Over the following few hours, the ceremony slowly and maddeningly built towards a powerful crescendo. The prayers and songs were continuous, with no pause during the entire time. They were all were marked with thunderous shouts and what sounded like a mixture of large drums and swordplay. The shouting and fighting became more violent towards the end, building in intensity until the climactic moment which nearly shook the stone walls of the temple.

Kultra's ears rang for several minutes, and it took him a while to realize that there was now nothing but silence.

"What now?"

Footsteps approached. Kultra half-expected Aramia to reappear outside the cell, but instead there were three acolytes, all dressed in the same white robes. They were sweating as if they had just been under some heavy exertion, and one had a fresh scar down his left cheek. They paused briefly outside the cell and mumbled something under their breaths. Kultra assumed it was a prayer of some sort, and was not surprised when they all walked into the cell. As the passed the threshold, the air around them rippled like a body of water disturbed by a large stone. The effect quickly dissipated, and the three youths gathered around Kultra.

"So? You gonna untie me or what?"

"We are here to summon you to the Viewing of the Stone, cho-thatan."

"You gonna carry me? I can't walk with tied up like this."

One of the youths nodded, and the rope binding Kultra's feet vanished.

"What the...?"

"The rope was mental construct," said the youth who freed him. "It was a manifestation of my faith in Bothal and my dedication to the Katiihar."

"Oh, really?" Kultra struggled with the rope that still bound his wrists behind him. It seemed real enough... it wouldn't budge or give, and it even chaffed his skin when he yanked on it.

"I assure you that my faith is stronger than your muscle." continued the youth. "Get him."

The other two acolytes grabbed Kultra by the arms and lifted him to his feet. Immediately, Kultra jerked out of their grasp and ran for the doorway.

"I wouldn't-"

The words were lost in Kultra's sudden screams. It felt as every inch of skin on his body was being eaten away by acid. His muscles cramped and spasmed uncontrollably for a few agonizing seconds, and then he was thrown violently back into the room. Kultra landed on his left shoulder, nearly dislocating it. His breath came in short, shallow pants, and his arms and legs still jerked occasionally. Kultra opened his eyes and blinked away the remnants of the pain.

"He is still awake!" said one of the acolytes.

"Amazing. He should have passed out. Do you know what this means?!"

"Means... I'm...too m-much... for your... shitty... magic."

"No matter. I'm sure the second trip through will put him out."

The priests lifted him up once again. This time, Kultra was in no condition to try another escape.

"S-second...trip?"

"Of course. The pain-field is permanent. Our faith permits us to pass through unharmed. But you..."

Together, the four of them stepped through the force-field. Kultra's weakened body stiffened as the agonizing pain washed over him once more... and then he quickly went limp as his mind shut itself down.

...

Consciousness returned to the assassin with all the subtlety of a rampaging elephant. One moment there was blissful oblivion, and the next Kultra eyes were wide open, his mouth locked in a silent scream as his sore muscles strained against his bonds.

The agony of the pain-field was gone, but Kultra still spasmed violently from the memory of it. As the echoed sensations faded, Kultra relaxed into the extremely uncomfortable chair to which he was bound.

The chair was carved out of a solid block of marble, the same stone that the temple was made of. It was shaped like a king's throne, with the exception of the slots through which heavy leather straps had been fed. The straps looped around his ankles, wrists, and across his lower chest before disappearing back into the marble surface. Kultra wondered if these bonds were real, or just 'manifestations of faith.'

Several feet in front of him was a thick white curtain, through which he could see absolutely nothing.

Beside him was another throne, a smaller version of the one in which he had been bound. This chair was occupied by a blond woman, buxom and very beautiful. She bared a striking resemblance to that traitor, Aramia, although her face was darkened with fresh bruises. A nasty scar was ran from her left shoulder down into the tattered night-shirt that she wore. The shirt had several small blood-stains, and was ripped in a few places. She looked as if she had been attacked very recently.

Kultra wondered if the Katiihar required it's female sacrifice to be a virgin. From the look of her, there was no such restriction.

"...sister..." mumbled Kultra.

"Yes," said a voice from behind him. Aramia and three of the priests emerged from an arched doorway that led to a flight of stairs leading down. "Her name is Jeria."

"Aramia and Jeria. How nice." Kultra strained against his bonds.

"Haven't you learned by now? You cannot escape."

"Just checking." said Kultra.

"Eyes forward. The Stone is about to be presented."

"What stone?"

"Eyes forward."

A gong rang, and the curtain was drawn away. Kultra saw that he was sitting on a low balcony above a small amphitheater. Below him, a rectangular room was occupied by about twenty-five men, all dressed in the same ridiculous white robes. They all stood perfectly still, as the only chairs in the room were being occupied by Kultra and Jeria.

At the front of the theater was a small square platform. Beside it, long staff had been thrust into the marble floor. The top of the staff opened out into a claw-like structure. The claw was currently empty, but it looked as if it could hold a jewel about the size of a human hand.

The room was perfectly silent.

"So?" said Kultra. "What's the big-"

Something *hard* smacked him on the back of his head. Probably another 'manifestation.'

"Hey! What the-"

Another smack. Harder this time. The priests obviously wanted him to remain silent.

"Hell, if you want me to-"

*CRACK*

Kultra's vision blurred slightly, then returned to normal. His head throbbed. He felt a trickle of warm blood run down the back of his neck.

"I'm not gonna shut-"

This time, something reached across the bottom of Kultra's chin and forced his mouth closed.

"MMMMFFFFF!"

*CRACK*

Kultra's vision took a little longer to clear. All the while, his jaw was being held closed by what felt like a leather strap.

The silence continued for what seemed like an hour, and then a single priest emerged from a hallway. He carried a wooden box, and was walking at a maddeningly slow pace. It took him several minutes to reach the pedestal, where he carefully deposited the box and slowly opened the lid. Without saying a word, he reached into the box and drew out a red gem. It appeared to be a ruby, but Kultra was unable to tell from a distance. The gem was placed into the claw at the top of the staff. Then the priest took a small ornamental dagger from the box. With the ceremonial knife in one hand, he held his opposite hand in the air above the jewel and thrust the dagger forcefully into his palm.

Kultra winced as the priest twisted the dagger back and forth into his own flesh. Blood poured freely, flowing like a stream onto the jewel and running down the length of the staff like a small river.

A second later, the jewel roared to life...

Halos of light pulsed outward from the gem in every widening spheres. At a distance of a few feet, the halos 'flattened' and became a slightly curved surface. As more and more light impinged on the screen, shapes began to appear. Dim and nondescript at first, the shapes thickened and grew more and more detailed. The image was of a huge, mostly empty room. At the far end, a large alter sat between two immense columns. Men dressed in white robes stood in certain spots spaced throughout the room. Their positions marking out a bizarre pattern on the floor. The men numbered thirty, not counting the high-priest and the two sacrifices that kneeled directly before the altar.

The sacrifices were dressed in all black, which contrasted sharply with the robes of their captors. They were on their knees before the just in front of the priest, arms and legs tied securely behind their backs.

The image began to move. At first, the movement was easy to miss... the thirty or so acolytes were standing motionless the entire time. Still and unmoving, like a room full of statues. The high-priest, however, was dancing about and shaking his arms in a very animated fashion. His shouts were silent; as the recording gem captured images only, not sound. However, his neck and jaws vibrated with the force of his prayers. The high priest was sweating profusely, his robe was nearly soaked.

Kultra assumed that the ceremony had already been in progress for some time before the recording gem was activated. Apparently the QuVol only wanted to capture the ending... not the entire Katiihar.

Kultra squirmed in his chair. A hand appeared on his shoulder... it belonged to Aramia. Kultra wanted to lean over and bite off a few fingers, but the strange 'manifestation' was still holding his mouth shut. He growled under his breath.

As the motions of the priest on the screen grew more and more frantic, Aramia's hand tightened on Kultra's shoulder. It was a grip of nervous anticipation. Something was about to happen.

Suddenly, and huge arc of white light appeared before the altar on the screen. It appeared to be a bolt of lightning, but instead of flashing and vanishing, it maintained itself and began to grow brighter and brighter. The arc started widening. Kultra saw the priest's robe billowing like a curtain in a whirlwind. Before him, the sacrifice's hair was standing on end. The arc was still transforming... it was no longer a thick bolt of energy, it was now a narrow portal that was growing wider by the second.

In the next few seconds, the portal went from a thin ellipse to a perfect circle. Large sparks crackled around its circumference. The dimensional orifice was huge... at least twenty-five feet in diameter, and every inch of it was radiating power and light with such intensity that Kultra couldn't even look directly into the recorded image for more than a few seconds at a time. The sacrifices were trying to turn away from the sight, but the high priest was now behind them. He had a knife in his hand.

A dark shape appeared deep within the portal. The silhouette was vaguely man-shaped, but the proportions were wrong. The head was knobby and misshapen, and the arms were nearly twice as large as they should have been. The thing approached, growing larger in the portal.

Finally, Bothal - Fist of the Gods - emerged.

Kultra blinked in disbelief.

Bothal's fists were the size of boulders, too large even for his oversized arms. The head was that of a bull, with horns more like those of a goat. Legs were like tree-trunks, with bare, cloven hooves where feet should have been. Muscles bulged on every inch of Bothal's twenty-foot frame. His chest was covered in thick fur, though his arms were bare. He wore a triangular cloth around his waist, and fastened it across his side with a clasp made of three human skulls. His eyes gleamed like twin red suns set deep into his bovine skull.

Bothal paused just out side of the portal and looked down at the puny figures before him. Kultra saw the priest shout something, and then the blade sliced across the female sacrifice's throat. Blood spouted and soaked the ground beneath the priest's feet. He pushed the still twitching corpse to the floor and stepped behind the male, who was struggling valiantly to free himself. The blade whipped across his throat in an instant. His eyes widened in disbelief. He looked up at the bull-god Bothal and mumbled something before he went limp, collapsing in a pool of his own blood.

Now, with both sacrifices dead, the priest stepped between the two bodies and raised his arms to his god.

Aramia's hand began to tremble on Kultra's shoulder.

Bothal reached down and grasped the man in his oversized fist. As he was yanked into the air, the look on the priest's face was not one of fear or terror... he was smiling. Almost giddy. He looked right into the eyes of his god and began crying with joy.

Bothal squeezed.

The priest exploded like a blood-filled bladder caught between two rocks.

WHAT THE FUCK!?!?! thought Kultra. He squirmed in his chair, not believing what was unfolding on the 'screen'.

Bothal was in a rampage. The white-robed acolytes, motionless until this time, now ran forward. They had no weapons or armor, although with their 'manifesting' abilities this shouldn't stop them from doing damage. However, as they approached, it became obvious that they were not rushing forward to fight. They stretched their arms forward toward Bothal just as the high-priest had.

Bothal opened his mouth in a silent roar and stepped away from the alter, towards the approaching acolytes.

The slaughter began.

Bothal swung his mighty fists and pulverized three men. Their smashed remains sat at the bottom of the crater Bothal's fists had left in the floor. Another priest threw himself under Bothal's hoof as the bull-god advanced on the crowd. His head was pulped before his cries of ecstasy could even leave his throat.

The others died quickly, often three or four died in one stroke. Huge fists smashed, crushed and pummeled each priest as he ran forward. He was an engine of pure destruction. Rage incarnate.

"MMMMFFFF!" said Kultra.

In seconds, every last man was dead. The bodies were crushed and twisted beyond recognition. If Kultra had not seen the carnage occur with his own eyes, there would be no way he could even say the scattered remains were even human.

But Bothal was not finished.

With the blood of the last priest smeared across his chest, Bothal let out another silent scream. He began attacking the very walls themselves. A single blow demolished half the western wall. A second finished the job. Bothal slammed his deadly fists into anything and everything. No matter how large or small, if an object was present in the blood-stained room, it was soon visited by Bothal's rage. He hammered both of his fists into the huge altar, reducing it to just so much rubble. He then smashed through another wall and ventured off into other parts of the temple. Though he was gone from view, the effects of his rampage were still apparent. The temple shook, and huge slabs of marble fell from the ceiling. A third wall fell in, and Kultra could see Bothal's huge shoulders disappearing around a corner. Another violent quake followed... and another. Each brought more and more destruction. Room after room, corridor after corridor, the temple of the QuVol was being systematically annihilated. Nothing was left untouched. Bothal smashed his way back into view and stormed towards the ruined altar. He stood between the huge column, before the still-crackling portal, and swung his arms outward. Chest muscles bulged as the titanic fists swept the supporting columns aside. What remained of the ceiling began to fall, slabs of cracked marble rained down upon the field of corpses.

Bothal turned towards the portal, and the image went blank.

All of the priests in the room broke their silence at once. They began to chant:

"Bothal! Bothal! Bothal!"

Kultra felt the his jaw come free.

"What the fuck is-"

"Bothal! Bothal! Bothal!"

"-going on! He killed-"

"Bothal! Bothal! Bothal!"

"-everybody! He destroyed-"

"Bothal! Bothal! Bothal!"

"-the entire fucking temple! What the fuck?!"

"BOTHAL! BOTHAL! BOTHAL!"

"Is anybody even listening to me! Somebody-"

"BOTHAL! BOTHAL! BOTHAL!"

"- Tell me what this is all a-FUCKING-BOUT!"

"BOTHAL! BOTHAL! BOTHAL!"

----

It took about an hour for the religious fever to calm down. By that time Kultra's throat was sore from his continued protests, which had gone completely unnoticed. Even Aramia had gotten lost in the excitement, shouting out her god's name even more vehemently than the others. Hers was the last voice to grow silent when the high priest returned to the platform. He retrieved the recording-stone and dismissed the assembly. Below him, Kultra saw the acolytes spin on their heals and march out of the room in an orderly fashion.

Kultra prepared to bolt when the straps on his chair were released, but wasn't the least bit surprised when, without warning, one of his 'keepers' whacked him on the head with another 'manifestation.' Kultra went limp, wishing that his dizziness was just an act to fool the guards, only it wasn't. He was hauled out of his marble chair and dragged back to his holding cell. He was just beginning to regain control of himself when the guards literally tossed him through the pain field. He was unconscious before he hit the floor...

---

Kultra awoke some time later and discovered that he was not alone. Aramia stood over him, smiling.

"Gonna let me loose so I can kill all of you now?" said Kultra. His hands and feet were still securely bound.

Aramia laughed.

"Now that you have witnessed the might of Bothal-"

"I witnessed some kind of freak-minotaur killing a bunch of robed idiots. That's what I witnessed."

"Bothal was blessing us with his rage."

"By killing everyone and then knocking the place down?"

"To die by Bothal's fist is a blessing in itself! Every Katiihar he comes to us and blesses us with his rage. He collects those who he deems worthy, and their souls return to Mount Olas, where they await the end of the world. Then, led by Bothal himself, they will rain down upon the world, sweeping away the infidels and the destroying the false-gods. We will serve at the head of Bothal's army when he comes to smite the unbelievers. That is why only the fiercest QuVol fighters chosen for the Katiihar. The rest wait in the city below and are tasked with rebuilding the temple after Bothal blesses it."

"So what are YOU doing here? You're no warrior."

"I captured the cho-thaitan, the sacrifice."

"Yeah, with poison."

"It does not matter. Whoever captures the cho-thaitan is guaranteed a special place at the Katiihar."

"Good for you."

"I would not expect you to understand. And you don't need to... all you have to do is die."

"I wouldn't count on that."

"Still entertaining your hope of escape?"

"It's more than a hope. Its an absolute certainty."

"I see."

"You'll see, all right."

"Nooo.... I don't think so. The Katiihar is already underway. The final combat-prayers are being performed as we speak. In a few hours, the summoning will begin. You and my sister will kneel before the altar, and when Bothal emerges, your throats will be slit. But before then, you must be prepared. You will be cleansed and dressed in the ceremonial-"

"I've had my bath this week. Thanks."

"It was not a request."

"So... what are you gonna do? Knock me out again?"

"Yes."

"Well, let's get on with it then."

"What? No more threats? No bravado?"

"I'm saving it for Bothal... just before I kick his ass all the way back to whatever plane you summoned him from."

Aramia's cocky smile vanished.

"Blasphemy! It is the highest sacrilege to speak of violence against Bothal!"

"Fuck Bothal. And fuck you too. Ooops... did that already."

"Sacrilege!! Guards!"

"Oh... here we go..."

Two weaponless guards appeared and grabbed Kultra.

"Hey! Get offa me you pukes!!!"

They picked him up like a load of potatoes and tossed his struggling body out of the room, right through the pain-field. This time, Kultra was still aware when he landed out in the hallway, although he couldn't remember much after that...

---

When Kultra came back around, he was dressed in a flowing black robe that came just an inch short of dragging the floor. As usual, his hands were tied behind him and his feet were bound. He was standing in a hallway, next to Jeria who was similarly dressed. The female sacrifice was sobbing uncontrollably. On either side of them, a white-robbed guard stood at attention.

"Just the two of you to look after both of us?" taunted Kultra.

"Silence." spat one of the guards. Something blunt and hard slammed into Kultra's stomach.

At the end of the hallway was a high arched opening that led into the main sanctum of the temple. Kultra could see the altar, as well as the priest dancing around before it, just as in the recording. This time, however, his shouts an prayers were clearly audibly. Kultra couldn't understand a single word, but he did detect 'Bothal', 'QuVol,' and 'Katiihar' more than a few times. Between the altar and Kultra stood the twenty-eight QuVol acolytes who had been chosen for the Katiihar. All bore fresh scars and wounds, no doubt from their day of endless fighting. They stood motionless in exactly the same odd configuration as the men in the recording. Kultra could see tiny golden runes carefully painted on the floor under their feet. Apparently their presence and precise positioning was part of the spell that summoned Bothal. He also noticed that two runes were unoccupied, presumably they belonged to the guards. At first, Kultra didn't see Aramia, but soon recognized her. She had shaved her head and was standing just outside the doorway.

"Bitch." said Kultra.

Beside him, Jeria's sobs doubled in intensity.

"Don't worry," said Kultra. "Gettin' your throat slit isn't a bad way to go. I mean, it's bad... but I've seen worse-"

Jeria bawled openly.

"Silence!"

Both Kultra and Jeria doubled over as they were both struck in the stomach. Kultra took the blow in stride, but Jeria collapsed and had to be hauled back to her feet.

When the high-priest reached a certain point in the litany, all the acolytes responded with a shout. The guards then shoved Kultra forward, nearly causing him to trip.

"Hey! I can't walk with my feet tied!"

"Silence!"

The bindings on his feet loosened, but did not vanish entirely. Kultra moved forward with awkward, shuffling steps, like a man with walking his pants down around his ankles.

He and Jeria entered the sanctum and passed down through the assembly of acolytes. Kultra tried to look back at Aramia, but the guard on his right pummeled him with something.

Kultra approached altar, where the priest continued his ceremony. The white robe was soaked with sweat, and large beads of moisture were flung off of his bald head as he danced and shouted.

Gross. thought Kultra. This guy isn't going to sweat on me, is he?

The guards shoved Kultra and Jeria to the floor just before the altar. They rose up to their knees and faced the priest. During a particularly violent pirouette, a glob of sweat flew off of the man's head and struck Kultra on the face, just below the eye.

Oh... Some ASS is gonna get KICKED tonight!

With a sound that put the loudest thunder to shame, a bolt of pure white light struck the altar. Jeria stifled a scream and Kultra stiffened in an effort to keep the shockwave from pushing him over. He watched as the arc of energy widened, just as in the recording. The air itself hummed with energy, and the floor vibrated beneath Kultra's feet. His hair was standing on end. In seconds, a crackling portal of pure white energy hovered before him. Before it, the high-priest concluded his dance, twirled once, and stepped behind Jeria.

There was movement within the portal. A dark shadow just coming into view.

"Why don't you step over here and kill ME first, baldy." taunted Kultra. The priest ignored him, keeping his eyes pinned to the shape in the portal.

The shape grew larger, more distinct. The distance was hard to judge, but it looked as if it were very close.

The priest reached into his robe and pulled out the ceremonial dagger. He placed it against Jeria's throat.

"Hey! I said ME FIRST!"

Bothal emerged from the portal. Kultra looked up at the twenty-foot giant and gulped. He was even more powerful in the flesh that he had appeared to be in the recording. The beast's shoulder's were at least ten feet across, and its oversized arms hung just below its knees. Bothal's fists were larger than his bovine head, sharp horns included.

At the sight of his god, the high priest pressed the dagger into Jeria's throat and drew it across her neck. Blood fountained, and the girl spasmed and fell forward.

Oh well... thought Kultra.

While Jeria's body still twitched, the priest stepped over behind Kultra. He reached around and placed the bloody knife to Kultra's neck.

Kultra looked up at the bull-god. Bothal's ruby-red eyes glowed back at him.

Kultra smiled.

With a sudden movement, Kultra jerked his head backwards, away from the knife and into the priest's lower abdomen. At the same time, he leaned to one side and brought his hands up behind him into the man's crotch. He grabbed, squeezed, twisted, and yanked. Hard.

The priest screamed and doubled over, and Kultra threw himself flat on the ground and swept his bound feet in an arc, tripping the emasculated priest. He then swung his legs over the priest's head, catching his neck between his ankles. He flexed his leg muscles and twisted hard at the waist. He felt the priest's neck snap.

All around him, the sanctum broke into an uproar. Acolytes, unsure of what was happening, gasped in terror. A few stepped forward, paused, and then returned to their place, only to venture tentatively forward again.

Behind him, Bothal's eyes pulsed to three-times their normal brilliance. His lips curled back, revealing a set of markedly un-bovine fangs, and then he spread his arms and let out a roar that literally shattered the eardrums of anyone nearby, Kultra included.

But Kultra didn't mind. The power was already flowing. He quickly rolled to face Bothal and glared at the Fist of the Gods as he stepped away from the portal towards him. Kultra was changing. His muscles bulged and inflated. Bones thickened and elongated to two, and then *three* times their normal size. The black, sacrificial robe ripped and came off. The ropes binding his wrists and ankles tightened, digging into the transforming flesh. Kultra sent more of the death-energy to his extremities... more power... more strength... the bonds snapped and fell away, disappearing as Kultra's strength overcame the acolytes manifestations.

"aaaaAAAAALLLLL RIIIIGGGGHTTT!!!!" howled Kultra as he rose from the floor, drawing himself up to his full twenty-one feet in height. The assassin had maintained his human shape, but had magnified it to titanic proportions. His skin had darkened to a rich, leathery tan, and his body bulged with muscles that matched, and in some places surpassed those of the bull-god.

"Okay BROTHEL! Let's see what you GOT!!"

Bothal charged forward, cloven hoofs chipping deep craters into the marble floor as he approached. Kultra drew back, twisted at the waist, and met the bull-god with a punch and shook the room and knocked several stunned acolytes to the floor.

Bothal stopped his charge. His red eyes grew wide, but other than surprise, the Fist of the Gods appeared otherwise unaffected by the Herculean punch.

Pain shot up through Kultra's arm as his musculature strained to absorb the shock. It was like punching a mountain. Bothal's skull felt as if it were made of hardened steel.

Bothal wasted no time in retaliation. He reached out for Kultra's neck, arms shooting forward with surprising speed. Kultra jerked backward and to the side. He struck at Bothal's arms, trying to block them. They wouldn't budge.

Kultra then jammed is left knee up into Bothal's midsection. The bull-god made a sound that was a cross between a grunt and a bark, and Kultra winced as he felt his kneecap crunch.

Bothal shoved Kultra away from him, sending him careening out into the main floor where the acolytes were snapping out of their shock and spurring into action.

"Blasphemy!" one shouted.

"Kill the infidel!" cried another.

They rushed toward Kultra, but the assassin had something else on his mind at the moment... namely the rampaging bull-god that was bearing down on him. Kultra went low, launching himself at Bothal's legs in an attempt to bring him down. It didn't work.

Bothal stood fast as Kultra expended his momentum against his lower legs. Then he brought both of his huge fists down onto Kultra's exposed back. Kultra felt a sharp pain shoot down both of his legs. He hit the ground, and managed to roll away a second before a cloven hoof pulverized the floor where his head had been.

He rolled to his feet and faced Bothal. He was just in time to see the huge fist hurtling towards his head, but too late to do anything about it.

The next thing Kultra remembered was lying on the ground on the other side of the room. The solid marble wall behind him was riddled with cracks. Everything hurt... except his legs, which he could no longer feel.

Bothal was charging towards him once more, teeth bared, eyes flaring.

Oh shit!

"DIE INFIDEL" The tiny acolyte was stabbing at Kultra's paralyzed legs with a sword. Kultra would not have even noticed him if it weren't for the man's excited cries. In any other situation it would have been very funny, but Kultra was in dire straights. He reached out and pounded the little man with his fist. He felt the satisfying crackle as the acolyte's skeleton collapsed, and then even more satisfying icy sizzle as the death-energy shot through his veins.

By the time Bothal reached him two huge footsteps later, Kultra was rising from the floor. The assassin stepped to one side, grasped Bothal by the neck and shoulders and added his own strength to the bull-god's frightening momentum. Bothal's head smashed into... and then *througth* the marble wall. Without hesitation, Kultra yanked Bothal free and then shoved him forward again, bashing another huge crater into the wall. He was going for a third time, when Bothal stiffened and resisted... or at least tried.

Though Kultra was no larger than before, he had used the acolyte's death energy to pile more and more muscle onto his frame, making his flesh dense and almost rock-hard. Bothal struggled, trying to twist free of Kultra's grasp, but found that he could not.

"What's the matter, BROTHEL!" grunted Kultra. Even with his enhanced strength, it was a struggle to maintain his grip on the raging god. "You're not gonna let a lowly MORTAL kick your ass, now ARE YA?!"

Bothal snarled and, with anger adding to his considerable power, snapped free of Kultra's grasp.

"So you CAN understand me, eh?" said Kultra as he danced backwards. "This makes things a LOT more interesting..."

Bothal spun and charged, this time with his head down and sharp goat-horns pointed straight at Kultra's stomach.

"Come ON!!!"

Kultra stood his ground. He leaned forward and planted his feet firmly on the floor, intending to meet the charge head on. Only, at the last minute, Kultra jerked away and grabbed Bothal's horns. He yanked backwards and twisted, trying to break the bull-god's neck. There was no rewarding *snap,* but Kultra did manage to bring Bothal to a halt. His tendons and muscles were straining to hold him, while the Fist of the Gods grasped Kultra's legs and tried to break them in his bare hands.

Kultra felt a sharp pain in his back. Then another. Then a third...

"aaaAAAHHH!!!"

"DIE!!!"

It was the acolytes. They had gathered together and were hurling swords and other sharp implements at Kultra's back. Most failed to penetrate the hardened skin, but those that did hurt like Hell.

"STOP THAT YOU PUKES!!!"

The distraction was all Bothal needed. The bull-god pulled free and grabbed Kultra by the waist. He lifted the assassin into the air and threw him across the room.

Kultra slammed into another wall and slid to the floor. Fortunately, his dense muscle prevented any serious damage from being done... but the sanctum wall was another story. Kultra heard a loud *crack,* and a large marble slab fell from the ceiling, narrowly avoiding his head.

Bothal was approaching again. Not at a full charge, but with a determined march that shook the already-damaged walls with each step. Several crazed acolytes were frantically trying to throw themselves under Bothal's cloven feet. A few succeeded.

"What a waste." said Kultra.

He stood, grabbed a piece of the collapsed ceiling, and threw it. It bounced off of Bothal's hairy chest without the doing the slightest bit of damage. Kultra, however, was right behind the fragment. His fist slammed into Bothal's gut. Bothal gave another bark-grunt as he was driven backwards several feet, his hooves cutting deep grooves into the floor. Kultra quickly followed with a solid punch to the face, and then another bone-jarring stomach-punch. He then twisted to the side, clasped both of his fists together and swung them as one at the bull-god's jaw.

He knocked Bothal completely off of his feet. Shaken, but apparently unharmed, the Fist of the Gods landed on his back just a few yards away. He stood and roared, deafening the remaining acolytes and making Kultra wince in pain.

What is this thing MADE of?!? he thought. He was already awaiting Bothal's predictable attack.

The bull-god roared forward, and Kultra leapt into the air... a considerable feat at his current size. He brought a flying roundhouse kick to the side of Bothal's skull, landed, and then twisted into a spinning back-kick that again drove the bull-god backwards. Kultra intended to continue the motion by burying his fist into the bull-god's solar plexus, but Bothal had other plans.

He grabbed Kultra's ankle as it retracted from the kick. He squeezed it in his huge fists and then twisted the leg sharply. Kultra felt his ankle snap first, and then his femur shattered like a dry branch.

"ARRRGHH!"

Shards of bone protruded from the toughened skin.

Off balance, Kultra slipped and fell. Bothal dragged him, and then lifted him by his ruined leg. He squeezed again, completely pulverizing the ankle. Kultra's leg separated at mid calf, and the assassin hit the floor, leaving his ankle and foot in Bothal's oversized hand.

Acolytes launched themselves at the wounded infidel, piercing his face and neck with manifested weapons. Meanwhile, Bothal drove his fist straight down into the center of Kultra's chest. Kultra's ribs shattered, and his vision went red just one instant before an acolyte managed to put one of his eyes out. By reflex, Kultra swung his arm and grasped at something... anything. He felt a crunch and a wetness...

Death energy flowed for the third time as Bothal's fists descended once more. This time, However, when the bull-god stuck, his fist rebounded off of a thick, bony plate that had replaced Kultra's ruined chest.

A pair of huge, rocky feet came up, planted themselves in the center of Bothal's abdomen, and launched the bull-god across the room. He landed with a building-shaking thud, but again was on his feet instantly.

So was Kultra.

The assassin was now a good two feet taller than he was before. Muscles and grown larger and even more dense. His thick, leathery skin had been replaced with an rigid, stony exoskeleton that covered most of his body. His chest-plate had already been damaged by Bothal's last blow; red blood flowed from the jagged cracks. Kultra did a quick back-step that squished another acolyte beneath his bone-covered foot. The cracks in the chestplate sealed, and the plate itself grew thicker and more rigid. Long bony spikes began to extend from various places on his armored body, including the knuckles on both of Kultra's clenched fists.

Without waiting for his opponent to reach him, Kultra stormed across the room towards the charging bull-god. This time, it was HIS feet that left deep grooves and craters in the marble floor.

Each traveling at full speed, the two titans met head-on. The shockwave not only knocked the remaining acolytes off of their feet, but actually hurled several of them into the wall with such force that their bones shattered on impact.

Kultra and Bothal, however, simply stood toe-to-toe in the center of the sanctum. Both were dazed. Bothal recovered first.

The bull-god reached out and grasped Kultra's head in his hands, but before he could do anything else, Kultra recovered. He shoved his hands up inside Bothal's arms and then outward, breaking free of the potentially deadly grasp. He then brought both of his fists down onto Bothal's shoulders with incredible force. The floor beneath the pair shattered, long cracks radiated outward from under Bothal's hooves as he was driven almost a foot into the ground.

Kultra stepped back and, while Bothal was pulling himself free, planted a solid punch into the god's face. The fist-spikes on Kultra's right hand broke off, but not before the scraped Bothal's flesh and drew blood.

Bothal's fiery eyes widened in silent disbelief, and then narrowed in rage.

"Get used to it, Brothel!" Taunted Kultra. "This is a NEW GAME NOW!!!"

He sank another fist into Bothal's midsection with all of his enhanced might. This time, the knuckle spikes sank deep into the god's flesh before they snapped off. Bothal roared and squealed in pain.

Kultra began pummeling the bull-god. Blow after thunderous blow rocked the entire temple as Kultra drove Bothal back with the force of his fists. One punch followed the other too quickly for Bothal to do anything but endure. Sharp chips of Kultra's exoskeleton and drops of Bothal's blood splattered the floor around them.

All around them, the QuVol tried in vein to pierce Kultra's armor. But, as they saw their raging god being driven backward by the infidel, their faith wavered. Soon they were unable to even manifest toothpicks, let alone weapons capable of wounding the assassin.

When Bothal's back was against the wall, Kultra ended his series of attacks with a spinning back-fist that knocked the bull-god to the floor. Bothal glared up at him and began to rise.

"Oh, PLEASE!!! Don't you LEARN?!? I just keep getting better while you're still the SAME-"

...Kultra kicked Bothal in the stomach, the god doubled over in pain...

"-UGLY-"

... a double-fisted hammer-fist to the neck, Bothal fell flat...

"-FUCK-"

... another kick rolled Bothal over several times and sent him careening into one of the pair of columns near on either side of the altar. The column was obliterated, and the temple began to shake.

Bothal rose again, but he was moving much slower that he had been... slow enough that Kultra had the drop on him as soon as he was on his feet. As soon as the Fist of the Gods was up, Kultra stepped up to him and backhanded him. The blow was more for humiliation than actual damage, but the assassin quickly followed with another series of closed-fist attacks...

*WHAM*

"Get back down there!"

*WHAM*

"I'm not through KICKING YOUR ASS YET!!"

*WHAMM*

"Fist of the Gods..."

*WHAMMM*

"PISS of the Gods is more likely..."

*WHAMMMM*

"Now I've got to teach you..."

*WHAAMMMM*

"Not to ever..."

*WHAAMMMMM*

"...Ever..."

*WHAAAMMMMMM*

"...EVER..."

*WHAAAAMMMMMM*

"... FUCK with KULTRA!!!"

Bothal dropped to his knees, and was quickly sent flying by a spinning kick from Kultra. He thundered to the ground just a few feet away... and then got up.

"What the FUCK!" said Kultra. Kultra's bony jaw almost hit the floor. Though both of Kultra's cracked fists dripped a constant stream of his own blood, Bothal seemed to have only a few minor cuts and bruises. The skin around one of his burning eyes was slightly swollen, but Kultra's onslaught seemed to have almost no damaging effects at all.

Bothal, the bull-god, rose to his feet and paused. Dazed, he swayed almost imperceptibly, and then his flesh began to pull itself together, sealing the minor wounds that he had suffered at Kultra's hands. Cuts healed. The swelling subsided and vanished. Bothal's red eyes were glassy, but they were quickly focusing on Kultra as the assassin approached.

"Oh, HELL no..."

Before the bull-god could react, Kultra reached up and grasped on of Bothal's sharp goat-horns. With two quick yanks, he snapped the horn off, spun around to gain momentum, and sank half of the horn's length deep into Bothal's right eye.

"Heal THAT, Steak-Face!"

Bothal roared and staggered backward, but not before Kultra landed a direct punch to the bull-god's throat. It was a blow that would have crushed the throat and wind-pipe of any mortal, but it merely sent Bothal sprawling backwards uncontrollably. Bothal crashed into the remaining column that was supporting most of the high ceiling. The building shook, and huge cracks began to appear in the heavy marble slabs above.

"Oh, shi-"

Everything began to collapse. Kultra dodge one falling slab only to be knocked flat by another. He rolled over onto his back and saw Bothal being buried under a huge pile of rock. A second such pile was hurtling straight for his own head.

Kultra crawled away just as Bothal exploded from his rocky prison. The assassin was getting to his feet when something slammed into his head, knocking him back down. He was dizzy for a moment, and then realized he was being lifted up by the legs. The image of the sanctum zoomed across his eyes as he rushed through the air...

Enraged, Bothal had grabbed Kultra and then began swinging him around like a club, smashing him into the rapidly collapsing walls and using him to swat at the falling slabs of marble.

Kultra's exoskeleton armor cracked fell away in large plates. Bones cracked, then shattered. Torrents of blood splattered the floor as it was slung out of his body. Finally, Bothal released him. Kultra flew like a gigantic boulder, crashing completely though a wall and destroying much of the hallway beyond it.

That was all the besieged temple could take. The entire structure began to cave in. A sanctum wall fell over and buried Bothal, who shrugged off the tons of rock with a grunt only to be knocked flat as most of the remaining ceiling landed on his back. In the hallway, Kultra was dragging himself forward with his unbroken arm. Both legs trailed uselessly behind him. He pulled himself back into the sanctum and over to the arched hallway through which he had first entered. Something large and heavy landed on his lower back... but he couldn't feel it. He collapsed in the entryway, just under the arch... hoping the structure would remain relatively intact as the temple destroyed itself.

All around him, the temple of the Katiihar was being reduced to a pile of heavy, expensive rock. Bothal was apparently trapped under a still-growing load of ceiling debris, and the QuVol had been squashed out of existence long ago...

... all except for the lone figure that staggered into the hallway. The white robe was dyed red with blood, the unrecognizable face looked as if someone had tried to slice it off with a dull spoon. The breasts, however, were unmistakable. It was Aramia.

She looked up at Kultra and gasped, apparently not expecting him to still be alive.

"Well..." said Kultra around a mouthful of cracked teeth. "I'm SO happy to see you..."

He reached out and grabbed the traitorous female just as the entire temple gave one last shrug and collapsed completely.

---

It was a chaotic pile of polished marble almost thirty feet high. Huge slabs that weighed more tons than most people could count were strewn about like children's toys. The temple of the Katiihar was destroyed. Completely. Long stretches of hallways, decorated arches, rich columns, altars, prayer-and-combat rooms, prisoner cells... all gone. No single stone could be distinguished from its brethren; It was all just useless debris.

Every few minutes the unsteady mountain of rock would shake and rattle as it settled. Over toward one end, the air crackled and the stones hissed as they were heated from underneath. An arc of light began to push it's way up from the rock, slowly turning into a brilliant semi-circle and then a perfect round portal as it rose. It settled above the debris, its lower edge hovering just a few inches above a huge slab that had once belonged somewhere in the inner sanctum.

Almost as if on cue, another pile of rock exploded on the other side of the field of stone. Huge boulders shot skyward as the Bothal, Fist of the Gods, roared and hammered his way free of the debris. He emerged, triumphant yet beaten. Both horns were gone, and his hairy body was covered in wounds ranging from mere bruises to gaping holes made by the falling slabs stone. A jagged bone jutted from his left arm. Several ribs reached out of his chest. Bothal paused and breathed deeply. After a moment, his body began healing itself and Bothal started slowly walking towards the shimmering portal.

As he trod across a particularly large, round stone, the 'stone' opened its eyes and snarled.

Kultra, now even larger and with a body that appeared to be composed of rock, burst from the ground behind Bothal and threw his arm around the bull-god's neck.

"Don't go YET!" he growled. "Not without this ASS-KICKING I've been saving for ya!"

He leaned forward, and both of them fell. Kultra landing with his stony knee in Bothal's back.

"I TOLD You-"

Kultra picked up a huge stone and slammed it into the back of Bothal's head...

"-I get better-"

The stone shattered, but Kultra quickly repeated the motion with another...

"-while you just get-"

...and another..

"UGLIER!"

Bothal managed to get his arms under him and pushed. Kultra went flying , as the bull-god rose once more. He reached Kultra and swung his mighty fist towards the assassin's head. Kultra duck and retaliated with an uppercut that lifted Bothal off the ground, and then with a side-kick that knocked him to the very edge of the pile of rock. Kultra was on top of him instantly.

Settling again onto Bothal's back, Kultra grabbed him by the bovine snout.. He placed his other hand on the back of Bothal's bleeding head. He pulled backwards and twisted.

Bothal's roar of rage was nearly matched by Kultra as he shouted obscenities to the gods. Straining, he pumped all of his strength into his arms as he repeatedly pulled and yanked at the bull-god's head.

Finally, there was a resounding *snap.*

Bothal's squirming ceased. The Fist of the Gods went limp, his head lying at a grotesque angle to the rest of his body.

Kultra stiffened and hissed... and then frowned.

There was no death-energy coursing through Kultra's veins. None. Nada. Nothing.

Probably because Bothal was not dead.

Kultra watched, amazed, as the bull-god's wounds continued to heal. His neck straightened and began to knit back together. It occurred to Kultra that this creature, who had been beaten, stabbed through the eye, buried under a hundred tons of rock, and who now had enough bones sticking out of him to make him look like a pincushion, PLUS a broken neck... was simply NOT GOING to die.

"Fine." spat Kultra. "Have it YOUR way."

He reached down and picked up the body, which was just now beginning to twitch. He lifted it over his head, and turned towards the portal.

With a fierce roar, Kultra threw the bull god with all his might. The crackling portal flashed and thundered as Bothal flew across the threshold and into his own plane.

"...and STAY OUT!!!"

The circle of light began so shrink. Kultra walked up to it and screamed into the vanishing whiteness.

"Be sure to tell all your god-buddies in there that it was KULTRA that kicked your ass! Remember That Name... KULTRA!!!!"

The portal closed... but not silently. A blistering shockwave blasted Kultra completely off the huge pile of debris. He landed with a thud a good distance away, creating a deep crater in the rocky mountain soil. His mind flirted with consciousness for some time before Kultra opened his eyes and, after several tries, finally got to his feet. He was dizzy. Everything hurt. Which was no surprise considering that he had nearly been killed three or four times all within the past hour.

If it weren't for those damned acolytes running all around...

Acolytes.

The rest of them were still out there, most likely holding up in the city at the base of the mountain. The temple had been destroyed, and now they would be making their plans for rebuilding... continuing the Katiihar in another fifty years. More death. More Sacrifices.

They would start this whole thing all over again.

"Not if I have anything to say about it."

With a smile on his face, Kultra began making his way down the mountainside, knocking down trees and kicking over boulders as he went.

"Guess who's coming to dinner, boys..."

[End]

Copyright 1998, by Dark Icon (Marc Washington)