Netori: Stealing The Hero's Party!

Chapter 952: A God’s Wrath - Part 2

"My ass hurts."

"What?"

"My ass hurts from sitting here all day!" Gretta–the chief barbarian of the Gorgurra tribe–bared her teeth at Ostellio–the chief shaman of Arkhamflalorious. Sitting by the last burning pile of farms, she was tired of staring into the distance at those pristine white walls of Aurum city. "Why aren’t we raiding the fuckers?! Waiting here on our asses, and for what?!"

With a jerk, the shaman’s arm reached outward. His chain-bound arms rattled like a viper inching for a strike.

"IT IS HER WILL THAT WE WAIT! SO WE MUST!"

"And we’re to believe that’s what she told you, little old man?" Moving beside the old shaman, Ohemaru the half-giant sat down beside him. His gaze was still set on the city in the distance, and from his height he could see the soldiers moving close to the gates–expecting a siege. "She speaks only to you, but you speak as a coward, making us wait. We could end this fight right now if we rush them, or are you too afraid?"

"HOW DARE YOU QUESTION HER!"

"The goddess of arms wants us to wait? You want to sell us on a lie, don’t you?" Getting off her ass, Gretta grabbed her giant axe with both of her hands. Through gritted teeth, she growled at the shaman, an invitation for a fight–the most common means to end a quarrel amongst their people. "Lift your chains and get your bastards ready! Let conquest settle this! Only the righteous servant of hers will be granted victory!"

Closing his fist, the shaman shook his fist with apparent rage. And yet, containing his anger, he turned back to the sight behind them. A feast was en path, not of the crop but that of people. Carver, the fourth leader of the tribes, namely the untouchables, was devouring the dead humans like crazed beasts, digging their teeth into the roasted dead bodies like animals.

"Would you disgrace yourself and your people by becoming a meal to these filthy creatures!" Though she did agree with his assertion, the barbarian followed his gaze and cringed at the sight of the untouchables. "They’re only good to provide the flames to the weapons my tribe forges; their sacrifice to the flames imbues a blood thirst in the metal itself! But I’d be a fool to let their foul mouth so much as brush against me."

"Tsk...why can’t that mad dog control his people!" Planting her axe in the ground, Gretta scowled. "Rabid dogs will set us on fire if we start fighting. Why do we even keep them around if they can’t see that we serve theirs and our mistress?"

"For the same reason that we have to work together for the great flaming mother," getting off the ground, Ohemaru pressed his right hand over his eyes and glared into the distance. "To bring her glory, and oh, I see an opportunity to do so."

"Her? It’s that damned half-wit god Hamleth that we’re doing a favor," lifting her axe again, Gretta stared into the distance, trying to find what the giant was looking at. "As far as I’m concerned, she should be the head of the council, not that impotent cuck."

"In that we are in agreement." Stomping his staff on the ground, Ostellio roused his people and in doing so, he brought the attention of the remaining tribes. Following their leaders, the men, women, and even the children of the quad-tribes picked up their weapons and lay in wait for the enemy to present themselves. "It is her decree that we ruin this land; faithless people are a curse to this land, but do not fight the accursed Athenian! Our lady needs him to rid this world of the demon lord’s influence!"

The two sane tribe leaders cursed under their breaths. The Athenian...the chosen, the man who had killed a god and was both a king and a champion. They had heard many tales of the accursed Athenian, but none dissuaded them from trying to take his head one day. Their goddess, in their eyes, should’ve chosen them to slaughter the lord of demons. And yet, she believes that the only chosen who could cleave that head was this... accursed Athenian.

"To think of the devil," a smile crept up Gretta’s scarred lips as she finally set her gaze on the man in question. "OHHHHH! Here he is! The so-called champion!"

"What?!" Hurriedly rushing forward, Ostellio narrowed his eyes and tried to look at the party approaching them. But the old man’s weary eyes could scarcely make out the countenance. "If it is him, we must leave! Our lady won’t have us fall here!"

"I knew you were lying about what she said." At the ring of cowardice, Gretta moved her axe behind Ostellio, preventing him from walking away. "Carver! If this man or his heretical fools so much as think of turning back, kill them! THE MOTH OF ARMS WANTS IT SO!"

"How dare y–"

"AUGHHH!! KILL THEM!" Without waiting a second, Carver–the crazed man lifted his head from a pile of gore and screamed to his heart’s content. "KILL THEM IF THEY MOVE! KILL THEM IF THEY DESERT!"

"You pile of filth!" Ostellio didn’t even budge or try to look behind him, for one glance behind him could spell the end for his people. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t complain, especially not to the woman who’d set him up to fail. "If we live through this, Gretta, this alliance is no more, and no man nor woman of my tribe will forge a single weapon for your people!"

"Oh, your will or your people will at least," with a smirk on her face, Gretta moved the axe and turned her gaze to the front again. "Now stop being a coward and fight! Our goddess watches, and I won’t fail her!"

"You already have by going against her," Ostellio cursed, his grip on his chains and staff getting tighter than ever.

Ignoring the two, Ohemaru dragged his massive morning stars from behind and lifted them over his shoulder. In wait, the trio watched Raven and party approaching them, hungry for bloodshed. But which would bleed more than the other? A couple of people against an entire army of savages. To the heroes at least, the answer was simple.