The summons had come in the ancient way of the great Star Child houses. Delivered directly to his hand by a Hindi youngling. A simple card with two lines of elegant script that only appeared when it had detected the recipient’s unique Aura.
The first stanza invited, ‘Huitzilopochtli, the leader of House Aztec, to attend an audience with Shiva, the youngest of the House Hindi’s Trimurti.’ A ragged chortle had burst from Huitzilopochtli’s undead vulture’s throat at the absurdity and pretense of the Hindi. Inviting a known walker of an Adharmic path, newly appointed house leader or not. And with all of the pomp and circumstance of the long forgotten aristocratic formality. The Aztec leader had only ever seen Aural sensitive handwritten invitations between the Olympian Court and its vassals when sitting in Coatlicue’s his mother’s Court… Long before the destruction of the Creaturix. The bestial urges of his current avatar edged him forward, fully intending to nip off a limb or facial feature from the unlucky messenger. His crippled body would to serve as my ‘formal’ reply to this haughty Hindi’s request… Then he read the second line.
‘Please enjoy the consumption of the bearer of this card as my gift. Much more awaits following your pledge of loyal service.’
After Huitzilopochtli had read the words, a concealed shield fell away from the card. The undeniable stench of death and oblivion Aura filled the space all around him and the child messenger. Taboo Aura’s used in the creation of the message. Exposure of a compromising revelation that was obviously intended to put Huitzilopochtli at ease.
Realizing his immediate peril, the Hindi servant jolted upright, calling with widening eyes, “My Lord, please no—” The boy did manage an uncertain step back from the lunging form of the massive vulture. Its mottled feathers, calcified eyes, and a leathery, desiccated tongue were the last things the child ever saw as he failed to transmogrify into his Karmic form. Huitzilopochtli’s undead avian crown sinuously snapped forward to bite off his head in one swift movement. The Aztec ruffled its moldering wings like a being in the cold as it bobbed and pecked its head over the fallen corpse. The vicious beak devouring the Hindi’s physical body at the same time as Huitzilopochtli absorbed his Aura directly into his meridians. In a matter of micros, all that was left was decaying feathers ground under heel in bloody bird tracks in a matter of seconds.
Unexpected… Huitzilopolchtli had thought to himself as he consumed even the foot-trodden and blood-soaked feathers of the tasty treat. Then transformed back into his hulking, blue-skinned, humanoid form. Truth be known, he preferred the power and strength of his undead avatar. But the Aztec leader wasn’t a mindless beast. That form was far too controlled by its hungers. And now he had needed to think about the implications of Shiva’s invitation.
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An offer of Allegiance for service…Something that Huitzilopolchtli was sorely lacking following his decision to ‘replace’ his mother as head of House Aztec. It was true that there were none willing to stand with a walker of an Adharmic path who had consumed his own mother simply to increase his own power. Standing alone was the easiest way to find yourself victim to the whims of those who were momentarily more powerful than you…Shiva knows this and is seeking to buy your loyalty with friendship. But being a pariah among the Star Child nobility, he was hardly spoiled for choices in his friends.
Huitzilopolchtli accepted the invitation. And what had happened at the audience had been even more unexpected.
Huitzilopochtli had known very little concerning the youngest and most reclusive of the three brothers who headed House Hindi. Of the two elder brothers, much was known by all. Brahma was reputed for his knowledge, wisdom and creative tendencies. Vishnu for honor and his proclivities of defending the helpless. But concerning the shadowy god of oblivion there was a seeming void in widespread tales. Almost as if he had been purposely keeping from the scrutiny of the public? Huitzilopochtli had to admit to a strong curiosity to find out who could have secretly walked down an Adharmic path surrounded by those claiming such pure and Dharmic existences.
With a piqued interest the Aztec presented to the House of Hindi in his undead avian avatar, virtually daring any to turn him away. He was led through airy walkways and under arched stonework to a well lit open courtyard. Bougainvillea vines in a riotous jumble of colors clung to ancient pillars and bird song filled the air…But Huitzilopochtli’s avatar’s heightened olfactory sense detected a very faint and underlying odor of death radiating from the cluster of Hindi in the center of the space where Shiva sat attended by all. He wore a human avatar of slim build and long black hair and his black eyes stared past all into the distance as if he was alone. Vishnu in his heavy plate armor, and Brahma a step behind, squared their broad shoulders at Shiva. Vishnu, the eldest and obvious leader of the two grimaced through a dark beard and mustache as he thrust his hand at Shiva. “Brother, I know there have been changes concerning your outlook on… many things but you cannot extend unilateral invitations to matricidal, cannibalistic power craving infants such as this.” Vishnu extended his arm in Huitzilopochtli’s direction without taking his eyes off of Shiva. Clearly desiring to make eye contact with his younger sibling.
A single dry and ironic cackle sounded deep in Huitzilopochtli’s dead avian throat. This was the greeting he had expected from the Hindi in the first place at accepting Shiva’s invitation. But the elder’s words were what made him laugh. What did the favor-currying Vishnu know of true power? It was obvious that for all his strength he had no true understanding of the concept. Power could not be encapsulated in things as paltry as words. It was not something that could be threatened or someone convinced of. Power, true power only existed in one’s actions in the here and now. It could only be witnessed by seeing the strong’s actions as they dominated those who were weaker. The fool should not be speaking of Huitzilopochtli’s desire for power when he had no understanding of it. The Aztec had even opened his mouth to tell Vishnu this when there was suddenly no need to do so.
Something ancient, vast, and to Huitzilopochtli’s senses ‘dead,’ stirred for a brief instant in Shiva. The youngest Hindi, still without even looking at Vishnu, waved his hand absently in the air and his armored brother’s knees wobbled before pitching over, face down in front of Shiva’s seat.
