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[Iratze][/center]

[Color=magenta]"Yes. I remember the war of Prime. I remember all the wars. I remember you in each one, the most brave and valorous of all... "[/color] Iratze stood before the god of hatred...

... There is a story the humans tell, a folk tale, about a mouse and a lion. There are many folk tales and mythologies among the mortals, none that exactly describe the gods as they actually existed, but there is certainly inspiration at the heart of many tales. The story of the Lion and the Mouse is a very simple premise. In the jungle the largest creature is the Lion, fierce, no one can approach him for fear of his rage and anger. The smallest animal is the mouse. In the end, it is the mouse that is able to find the thorn in the lion's foot and calm the savage beast...

...That story may or may not have been about Iratze and Amos in this very moment... 

The smallest god and the mightiest faced one another now. 

[color=magenta]"I see you [i]now[/i]... And I say this with all my heart: I bear [i]no[/i] hatred toward you."

"You, are my oldest friend. I have known you since your birth." 

"You and I both know that [i]death[/i] is not end for any human. Indeed, their bodies lay here as empty fleshy husks, but their souls move on to the underworld..."

"They might be sent to hell by the earth: A tsunami or flood. They might be sent to hell by ill luck: A heart attack or slip on the steps. They might be sent to hell by one another... If they should be sent to hell, instead, by the great sword of a mighty god they should be honored."[/color]

They could not go to the underworld and ask they dead if they felt honored or not to be killed by a god. That privilege belonged to Brontes, and Brontes alone. The underworld belonged to him, and he was the only one who could go to and from that place at will.

She envied the dead humans then. They could cross the worlds, and she could not. She looked upon the bodies sprawled out behind Amos in a bloody trail. She felt deep deep sadness, deep deep loneliness, deep deep envy. 

They could do what she could not. Iratze used to dance between the worlds.

But the humans, lucky as they were to experience a fraction of her old power, could not return from the underworld. 

Iratze wondered, if she had known she were to be trapped in one world, which one should she have chosen?

[Color=Magenta]"Shall you continue to fill the coffers of the underworld with souls, or, shall you put down you flaming sword... just for a moment... I can not, nor do I wish to stop you in whatever quest you deem worthy... But beg you for a moment to take pause and palaver with me. I am your friend and loyal messenger, and I always will be, Amos..."[/color]

She swallowed hard, wondering if she would be smote or ignored by the god of anger in his enraged state.