Chapter Two; Brotherhood of Blood

Juunadgrand is one tough son of a b***h, but how does a canid alien like him wind up in a dark prison cell?

"Don't try and swindle me you cornuds a*s...or I swear I will come back here and you won't want to see me then." Júunadgrand threatened with a finger thrust into the merchants face. His teeth were bared and shining in the noonday sun, glinting dangerously; they had recently been sharpened. The merchant could see as much and he leaned back reflexively, eager to put as much distance between him and the deadly canines as possible.

"Please Zeta! I swear I'm not trying to fool you...that is the going price! If you want to ask the Norralskarl, he can tell you himself."

Júun looked off into the corner, wondering if he should do just that.

"Two hundred wurks; final offer."

"Zeta I swear...on the life of my brood I cannot go lower than two hundred and fifty wurks! I cannot!"

"Elhagch! You're obviously getting more than two hundred wurks Kullen; you're getting the undying gratitude of the Oorgomanadgreer." Júun bared his teeth instinctively.

Kullen threw his hands up in the air. "For the god's sake Júun! I can't go around bartering away my goods for favors!"

Júun looked away, sighing angrily and putting his hands on his hips. The roof of Kullen's stall kept the sun out of his eyes but it was a bright day and he couldn't help but squint, even in the shade. Behind him, dusty omegas of every sort filtered past him in the street. He growled to himself for a moment, mulling over Kullen's words in his head. Finally he looked back up at Kullen, staring him in the eyes.

"I want the best...THE BEST limestone you have for that price Kullen."

"Of course, of course Zeta, anything you say!"

Júun pushed a finger into Kullen's chest. "And I want it brought to the hall."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Júun chewed the inside of his lip, wondering to himself if this was the best decision. But he didn't have all day to bother with ruffing up the local merchants, he had things to do.

"I don't have the money with me right now...you'll have to take my word for it and I will come back tomorrow."

Kullen looked nervously from Júun's face, to the finger poking into his chest and back. He thought about protesting, but he wasn't that stupid. Júun was the Zeta of a Warpack, no one with half a brain was dumb enough to mess with them.

"Deal."

Júunadgrand withdrew his finger, keeping his eyes on the shaky merchant. He ran a hair over his dark blonde hair, smoothing it out and pushing it back behind his ears. He shook his robe off and smoothed out the creases, adjusting his belt tighter around his waist.

"I don't have the patience to do this every day Kullen. And I'm the one they will send if something breaks. You keep making this difficult for me and I PROMISE; I will make it difficult for you too."

"That's how business works." Kullen said with a smile and a shrug, but Júun didn't seem to find it funny. He blew an irritated gust of air and turned on his heels leaving the merchant standing, quite perplexed, under the tarp of his stall.

"I've had enough of your business."

Júun hit the streets; it was time to get away from Kullen and his antics. He grumbled angrily into his shirt as he marched his way down the crowded, narrow walkways of Hurg; all a brown, drab mess of dirty cloth and dry rock. His light brown skin and hair seemed to mix well with the cheerless cityscape, but he couldn't possibly have felt more alien.

His sandals knocked on the dusty walkways as the crowds of hooded omegas massed around him like tadpoles in a stream. Shadowed terraces and roofs swept by him as he pushed and shoved his way through the overcrowded slums. He wasn't paying much attention to where he was going, he cared more that he was going.

I hate it here. He realized with a start, but it didn't matter too much really. Home was home.

The corrupted innards of Hurg had poured forth like dry heaving vomit into the claustrophobic streets of the urban sprawl. Jùun felt assaulted on all sides like a man drowning in a sea of poverty, but he had no choice but to make his way deeper into the darkness of the metropolitan ooze. There was something there that he needed to find, something he needed to see. He hated the smell, the sight, the keening stench and the desperate cries of the poor. He hated the omegas more than anything, but he had to do this; there was no going back. Everything depended on it.

As the Sun wafted lazily in the blue sky, the day drew on and Jùun's feet fell into a rhythmic pounding of the open dirt roads. He brooded to himself, keeping his arms in close, careful not to touch anyone that passed him. He held his breathe when a particularly bad smell hit his open nostrils, but he never stopped to turn around. Soon after he set out, Jùun looked up to find that he had found the place he was looking for; the Blood District.

Buildings, tall as valley walls towered over his head like uncaring stone faces. Alleyways, thin and dark stretched on like black caves straight and narrow for miles in every direction. Overshadowed ghettos choked with heavy steam and sweat, packed with writhing bodies moving like ants in a tunnel. Set up on higher terraces above them, street vendors in blood-soaked aprons tended to giant cauldrons of boiling water. The steam from those cauldrons filtered into the alleys below, filling them with a hot mist.

Jùun covered his mouth and marched with his head bowed into the steaming mess, bumping into half a dozen other skarl on the way. Shopkeepers and merchants hung their heads out of windows, selling or bartering hunks of boiled meat from their giant cooking pots. The humid heat was slowly turning the alley into a hotbox, but no one there seemed to mind. Half of them had stripped to pants and sandals as they weaved through the crowds, looking for a good deal on cheap meat.

"Hey! Hey Zeta! Come and get some boiled greer!" one of the nearby vendors screamed at him from across the street. Júun ducked his head and avoided the aggressive salesperson, escaping into the nearest alley.

Júun felt like he was an insect, crawling under the feet of hungry bug eaters, he got away from that street as fast as he could. There was nothing he despised more than aggressive omegas, pestering him while he was doing something important. But it couldn't be helped, so Júun leaned against the wall of the alleyway and tried to catch his breath. He peered this way and that checking the faces of the crowd, spying out the local color. It wasn't long before he found what he was looking for.

From the far end of the Blood District Alley came the sound of a tolling bell. It resonated through the stone walls and pierced through every skarl in the crowded street. Slowly, but steadily, the crowd parted to allow passage.

A procession of robed figures were making their way down the middle of the street; dressed in crimson robes the color of fresh blood, their faces and heads shadowed by heavy hoods. They were marching slowly from the far end of the alley, drawing the eyes of every person in the district. A nearby beggar craned his neck around the corner and Júun heard him loudly exclaim.

"It's the brotherhood! The brotherhood is here! Thank the gods!"

Júun kept himself as low as he could, but he risked a peek at the glooming monks as they made their way by. Heavy bladed cleavers were grasped firmly in their ancient paws; high banners of blood red cloth were paraded above them. One of them, in the very midst of the parade, was hitting a bronze bell with an old hammer, chanting some mumbled nonsense under his breath. The crowd watched them go, whispering excitedly to each other.

"...The sacrifices are beginning!"

"...The sacrifices, thank the gods!"

Thus concludes Chapter Two: The Brotherhood of Blood.

If you enjoyed it don't forget to Vote and Comment, leave me some love ya'll. and If you really love me, you Follow me like a bonifide David Kennedy fan.

Love you all,

-ADKD

Author's Note

Review at your leisure