God of Discovery [high fantasy, slow build, mlm]

Arc 3 - 19. God of Death

D'Argen was trimming down fletching for his new arrows when the supplies from Evadia finally arrived. This was the third set since D'Argen had joined the fighting at the battlefront and there were never enough supplies. They were never fast enough to arrive either. He had considered, multiple times, trying to run to the city and figuring out how to run back with the crates of food and medical supplies, but there was never enough time. The waves of demons were coming more and more frequently and the trenches he had first seen when he arrived were now dug anew in the same place where the medical field used to be.

The demons were advancing with every wave, and they never seemed to end.

D'Argen knew the war ended, eventually, but he could not recall how. Something about the mountain itself? He knew what it was, but it felt like a word at the tip of his tongue that would not form. The more he tried to force it, the more the memory slipped away.

As he bent the cut feathers and held them into shape, his eyes scanned the front lines. Hiras was out there again, bringing rain and lightning on the field. It was not, as he thought, to try and clean the scent of death, though she did make a difference.

Instead, D'Argen learned that she did this task alone for another reason. The demons had gotten much smarter during all these attacks. In the beginning, they would come out randomly and more often fight one another, but as their small groups kept on getting killed off, they started gathering and coming from the mountains in larger waves. Waves that pushed the defensive line back with every attack and killed too many. Hiras's storms were there so her lightnings would strike down any stragglers that came out after the waves. None made it near the camps, and she did not have to be too careful with her strikes as the only allies in the fields were those gathering the bodies of the dead.

And the dead far outnumbered the living. There was not enough time or room for any mourning rituals or burials. The pit of bodies at the edge of the camp was nauseating and most of the stink came from there, rather than the battlegrounds themselves.

A shuffle in the crowd had D'Argen focusing back to the present instead of the future he could not recall and looking at Vah'mor as they walked right toward him.

D'Argen deposited the newest arrow in his quiver and rose from where he had been sitting on a crate as he worked out of the way of the others.

"Where can I help?" D'Argen asked, ready for orders.

"Vain has arrived. I need you to talk to him," Vah'mor replied. "Vagor and Kassar arrived as well."

D'Argen chanced a glance at where the supplies were being unloaded and noticed the gods in question. He nodded, waited for a moment more, and when he did not receive further instructions, he grabbed his stuff and ran to meet the new arrivals.

Vagor nodded at him in acknowledgement, but she walked off without a word, following a single mortal in the direction of the pit with dead bodies. Finally. Somebody who could do something about it. Although Vagor's scent of rot and death was unpleasant, her mahee allowed her to speed up decomposition within the body. With her help, the dead may finally get some rest.

Kassar ignored him completely, instead helping others unload the supplies.

Vain, on the other hand, rushed him as soon as he noticed him.

"I spoke to Vah'mor and a few others. You and I need to talk. Where can we sit down?" Vain asked in a rush, already opening up his satchel.

D'Argen looked around them. All the closed off tents were for either the severely injured or those of a higher status that needed rest. Most mortals slept out under the sky, using only the tent walls and the will of the gods to keep the winds from chilling them to death. The open tent Vah'mor used to talk to the other leaders was empty and it had both a long table in the middle and a smaller one with three chairs around it in the corner.