Love reading these, Keep up the good work.
Great read! Appreciate all the work you put into it Marshal! :)
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The Mar'xhal:
Fires roared atop the main plinth of the stone Ziggurat, six roaring hearths lined three of the square topped pyramid’s sides, only the entryway topping the stairs was uncluttered by the flames. Men in ceremonial dress and war paint danced about leaving flickering shadows in their wake. Standing directly before a central hearth, that was several times larger than the surrounding blazes, was Yaotl Heart-Taker. He was cloaked in a mantle of brilliant feathers taken from the Winged Serpent, a necklace of fangs from all the great predators of the jungle hung about his neck and his arms were painted a brilliant red from fingertip to elbow. His face was painted in the terrible visage of a tiger skull, it’s canine’s framing his mouth and golden eyes staring forth from bleak sockets. The High Priest of the Serpent stood before him, holding the Crown of Caprakan high, all the while Warriors of every Brotherhood chanted, alternating from a low growl to a high caterwaul.
While this display took place, few noticed the still-warm corpse of the dead King at Yaotl’s feet, his torso covered in drying blood from a ragged hole below the breastbone where Yaotl had ripped out his heart.
“Yaotl!” The High Priest shouted bringing the ceremony to a halt, all the warriors stomping to a standstill, only continuing in a low hum of chanting. “Of the name Heart-Taker, First Warrior of the Winged Serpent Brotherhood, saviour of Caprakan and Slayer of the tyrant, we gather here to witness your ascension in the eyes of the Spirits, take you this crown in the knowledge that it is a burden far greater than any you have lifted, take it knowing it is a reward far richer than any you have known, take it knowing that it is a power far deadlier than any you have wielded. Wear it in strength, wisdom, compassion and courage, it is time to lay down your title as First Warrior and take up that of King.” The old man’s words were ageless. No warrior present knew exactly when they’d first been spoken, but all knew that the ceremonial words were as true today as when they were spoken to the Ancient Kings of Legend.
Yaotl stepped forward and spoke, his gaze moving across the gathered warriors of every brotherhood, “Warriors of Caprakan!” He roared aloud, “I see so many before me worthy of great honour, sons of the Tiger, the Eagle, the Crocodile, the Viper, the Python and my own brothers of the Winged Serpent!” As each was named, the warriors of that temple raised their weapons and voices in salute. “I am called to a new path, a path that I can not tread with a foot in either temple, as such I must cast aside my place as First Warrior, Etu’hakan known as the Shadow Strike, long you have served as my second within the Temple, I entrust it and the continuance of its teachings to you Brother.” There was a howl of agreement and acknowledgment as Etu’hakan stepped forward and saluted. Yaotl now bowed his head before the High Priest and the old mann lowered the Crown to his brow.
“All hail King Heart-Taker lord of Caprakan and master of the Janoa Tribe, long may he reign.” The holy man raised his dagger and upon Yaotl’s chest he carved the symbol of the Royal House, the curved serpent seemed to be alive as the blood pumped down the mann’s breast and moved with each breath Yaotl took. All the warriors cheered exultantly as the new King stood tall, a prisoner of the battle was brought forward, arms held wide by the Warriors on either side. The young mann trembled visibly as his unathletic frame squirmed in their grasp, the Priest drew his dagger once more and gripped the youth by the throat. “By the Winged Serpent and all the spirits we hold dear, may this sacrifice grant the King vision of future and wisdom.” As he spoke he plunged his knife slowly into the prisoner’s chest, the mann screamed in agony as his innards were laid bare to the world, he was cut off as the Priest shoved a hand into his chest cavity and removed his heart with a swift jerking motion, dragging the bloody offering free. With practiced ease the shaman had re-sheathed his blade and drawn forth a powder from his belt pouch, and rubbed it into the heart. “Eat this my King and be granted the dreams of the King.” He intoned and handed the bloody meat to Yaotl who, without hesitation, bit into the offering. The Warrior continued to tear and swallow chunks until he felt overfull with eating too quickly.
Before long the heart was completely consumed and the King stepped back to his throne where the drugs began to take effect and he collapsed upon the stone surface, his eyes rolling back in his skull as the drug fueled visions began to take a hold of his subconscious. Warriors cheered all around before stepping back and taking seats to await their new King’s awakening.
The sun had begun to rise and the fires had burned down to mere coals, warriors huddled in small groups struggling to stay awake, mugs of the mulled wine they favoured sat at hand for almost all of them. Heads snapped up as the prone form of the new King groaned and began to rise on his throne, first to an elbow before finally rising to a sitting position. His eyes raked over the gathered throng before alighting on Ta’hwan.
“Ta’hwan, join me, the rest of you leave us, I require the Tiger Warriors.” Those cloaked in Tiger pelts stepped forward, lead by the indomitable form of Ta’hwan, the rest filtered out to find beds in the city. Ta’hwan stepped quickly to his King’s side, assisting the weary man to his feet, while gesturing with a hand for his warriors to kneel. The First Warrior then knelt in turn before his King, “What service may the Tiger Brotherhood give you my King, say the word and our lives are yours to spend.” The large man spoke, his deep baritone giving no sign of the fatigue that gripped his body, he had not slept since the battle and even now his mantle weighed heavy. The King smiled at the offering of fealty, knowing this was a man he need never fear.
“Ta’hwan, the Winged Serpent visited me in my vision, he knew what Caprakan needed, now that I am King we will need to stabilise the Kingdom, to ensure its survival, to do that I am going to need my executioner. The Serpent told me of a Spirit from a bygone era, the Hound and Devourer of the Hearts of the unworthy, he called it the Mar’xhal, I wish for you to pass on your mantle of First Warrior and take up your place as my Hound, the clan of Tlatucoatl will forever be changed to the clan of the Ravenous Hound, founders of a new temple to breathe life into the Spirit of the Great Devourer once more. You will be Ta’hwan Mar’xhal, the King’s Hound and destroyer, you will seek out those who would destroy our Kingdom and you will end their unworthy lives.” The King’s amber eyes had begun to light with fervour as he spoke, his hands reaching down to lift Ta’hwan back to his feet. “Your second, Ma’tan will make a fine leader of the Tiger Temple, but you must tread a new path.” At these words, Ta’hwan nodded to his second and passed along his twin clubs to the mann known as Ma’tan, with a shrug he removed the tiger pelt from his shoulders, the head of the great beast grazing his neck as it lifted of his own crown.
“I pass to you this mantle and duty Brother, for now I must tread a new path, a path I know not whence it goes, lead our Temple to ever greater heights without me.” Ta’hwan nodded once more to his brothers before turning back to the King. “I am your servant as always, mark me as you wish the New temple to grow.” The King nodded and raised his clawed hands, dragging them down the chest of his chosen Hound. The wounds were deep but non-lethal, and they took on the appearance of someone who had been raked by a large dog.
“The Tattooist will be sent for to complete your markings, but you are now my Hound, my Attack dog, you are Ta’hwan Mar’xhal, the Reaper of Souls and Devourer of the Unworthy. Study this new totem and dream many dreams, for the Temple must grow as you do.” The Tiger Warriors cheered their former Lord as he turned to greet them, his chest bloody and ragged and his eyes afire with holy flame...
-Penned this day by Ha'kar Mar'xhal, descendant of Ta'hwan, servant of the King of the South.
Keep stories like this coming by voting for KingOfTheSouth, send ancient coins and make Caprakan a reality so I can keep writing in this setting!
