The Book of Amascut

[myriadbeautiful]

The Book of Amascut

Chapter 5

The tumultuous sea of emotion that the afterlife had become buffeted Icthlarin as he made his way back to the gates, but the sea had changed. Gone were the currents and eddies he had learned and new beasts prowled. Where was he and what were these dark souls? What hell had twisted them so, and more importantly from which hell did they escape? The beasts circled the god, altering the very currents as they did so. Icthlarin prepared to banish the beasts but curious teeth nipped at his arms before he did so.

A tremendous pride filled his chest now that he knew he was the son of such a great and kind and wise father, who was willing to sacrifice so much for his people.

No, this couldn't be hell, this was heaven.

Emboldened teeth bit down on his leg, and his world has naught but white, burning light and the accusing hateful screams of his sister across innumerable ages and uncountable worlds. He cowered at the foot of the volcano where he abandoned her as the searing ashes of a dead star rained down and he prayed a boulder would crush him before the mountain rightfully tore him asunder.

No, this was a hell! No, something new! A trick!

The soul devouring beasts were banished, and Icthlarin surveyed the the damage the beasts had done to the currents. No, it wasn't damage. The currents were never meant to exist, and neither were the eddies that trapped souls within collective interminable hells and heavens. The presence of the beasts had disturbed the eddies into colliding and falling apart, spilling freed souls into new currents that carried them to their ultimate freedom on the other side of the opened Gates of the Underworld. But it wasn't the river that awaited them, it was the Fiery Eye that Saw all that Icthlarin had done, the Ear that Proclaimed his sins to all in the Underworld, and the Mouth that Consumed all the pain he had caused. The Lioness, the true Maned Lioness, stood at the gates and her hateful, accusing screams shook the Afterlife.

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It took Icthlarin and all the Mahjarrat who weren't occupied on the battle lines or routing out spies to subdue the mad goddess and partially enervate her. The Gates to the Underworld were shut again, but the bridge remained. For the first time in ages, the shores of the River Noumenon were lonely, almost empty. When Amascut regained her senses, the river once again let her know as it knew. Surrounding her besides her tearful brother were Azzanadra the pious, Temekel the loyal, Wahisietel the curious, and Sliske the foul, who stole souls from the shores when Icthlarin wasn't looking, among others. On the opposite shore, hunting the devourer beasts, were young Zamorak the Ambitious, Palkeera the Shadow-Warper, and Zemouregal the vain. The river knew little of what happened in the world above, but it did know this: while Amascut, the Judge of the Dead, was away the Mahjarrat had become judges of the people, enforcers of Icthlarin's and Tumeken's will, the Stern Judges of the living. And not only were they mighty warriors and magicians, they were shapeshifters, and many Zarosian spies and poor unfortunates merely suspected of spying were sent to the shore of the River Noumenon after getting caught by these Faceless Ones in a lie. The most unfortunate, however, were snatched back up only to be sent down again multiple times. On the dead and barren world they came from they did not have much opportunity to practice such dark crafts, but here on this world so rich and full of life, the only thing stopping them was Icthlarin himself. Poor distracted Icthlarin, burdened with the guilt of the loss of his sister and unable to earn his father's forgiveness. For Tumeken saw all the Mahjarrat had done yet did nothing for Icthlarin's sake. Icthlarin had brought evil into the Kharid to save it from evil, and for now that is what they did. Icthlarin would learn the consequences of his action, but Tumeken barely perceived the consequences of his inaction. And this the river knew neither, but Tumeken's former Eye witnessed it: a shared parentage between between the dark divine warriors and the Dark Imperator of the north.

Icthlarin and his foul tribe know knew they had a way to subdue the Judge of the Dead, and she feared that one day they might end her completely. She felt acutely, then, the terrible price gods pay for their divinity. There would be no afterlife for her, no shore of the River Noumenon would await her arrival. The River wouldn't carry her past who she was in life and beyond her death, beyond all she experienced and all people knew of her. She wouldn't become what she is in herself. She would just cease. Halt. End.

Much like the evil souls she ate as a reward for their treachery. She returned to her duty as Judge of the Dead, relieving some of the burden Icthlarin bared. Most of the devourer beasts that crossed the bridge to the river's opposite shore had been banished, but a great majority of those that bounded into the open Gates and into the wildly churning Afterlife remained there, calming the great and tumultuous seas of spirit as they hunted. For a while Icthlarin was thankful for the calming effects of the beasts, yet greatly disturbed by their appetite for the destruction of souls. There were still a great many hells and havens and violent currents about them, so Icthlarin still had necessity to leave the Gates for long periods to guide souls past the gnashing jaws of devour beasts and to the "right" afterlives, as some of the more powerful eddies had become.

The Mahjarrat came to the Underworld regularly to confer with Icthlarin. He dared not bring any past the Gates, though, for he knew how eager they were to learn the mysteries of the dead and what some of them would do with such knowledge. Thus he had no help against Amascut's devourer beasts. Not all Mahjarrat came to confer with Icthlarin; Sliske in particular had a habit of timing his visits while he was away, and always with a large group of his fellow Mahjarrat. They would feign disappointment everytime, and Zemouregal would almost always complain the loudest, yet they would stay for a while pretending to wait for the Shepherd of the Dead. Under the Judge of the Dead's furious gaze, they pilfered souls, yet the Judge did not pass judgement, for they were reminders of her own lack of mortality. This the river knew, as it knew the dark intentions of these mahjarrat. The souls were destined to be Sliske's personal grand army of wights, and he intended to complete the enervation of Amascut and even Icthlarin one day. For on the day Amascut returned, they felt a shadow of a joy and ecstasy they had not felt since leaving their home. This the river knew, yet Icthlarin had neither eyes nor ears to understand.

All Icthlarin heard and saw were a steady decline in souls judged worthy of even the afterlife, and almost none judged worthy of rebirth. Those that did earn rebirth were usually picked from among those huddled around his sister's false image. The population of devourer beasts haunting the afterlife never seemed to shrink either, but perhaps they were multiplying. Would that even be possible? But the Judge of the Dead told the Shepherd of the Dead that a corrupting darkness was seeping into the Kharid, despite the valiant efforts of his Stern Judges to stop the darkness from pouring in from the north. The Reaper of the Dead also had the ear of Icthlarin when he told of the curious, repetitive deaths of individuals that were becoming worryingly common. The old adageYou only die once was for some reason being proven wrong.

The Priesthood of Amascut expanded greatly after their Goddess's return, as did the number of people following the ways of the slayer. Adventurous slayers often passed through the increasingly fortified border between the Kharid and the Zarosian Empire and forged murderous and destructive trails deep into the north and each trip seemed to increase the wisdom of the slayer, somehow. In the Kharid, the Priests and Priestesses taught the mysteries of the body and the causes of death to the people and became great healers, and inoculated the people from many evils. Yet in secret they moved against the hidden actions of the Stern Judges. As the Faceless Ones shape-shifted, so did the priests and priestesses, stalking about like stray cats and pouncing as lions and larupias and kyatts. The reinvigorated Priesthood of the Lioness began having as much success as the Stern Judges at uncovering traitors to the Kharid, but their methods of dealing with the traitors became more violent and destructive with each year. At times it would seem that even Amasccut would appear, swelled with rage, and collapse buildings, even temples dedicated to her family, upon the heads of traitors. That a Faceless One in disguise was at times found dead in the debris was always an unfortunate coincidence and oversight. How could it be the True Lioness, when she remained at her post at the Gates of the Underworld? And so the children of the Kharid began to fear the Priesthood of the Lioness, but still would cautiously chide each-other

Judge not the Deathbringer, lest she judge you

From fear came respect, however, and the priesthood still grew.