When Gods Bleed for Mercy

How the wind whispers of an ancient tale passed along generations of children. Throughout royalty did these words speak, passed along the lips of kings and queens, of guards and knights. Written in a scripture in the blue blood of ancient beings:

The ankojin.

And how these beings, furred bipedal and blue-stained, spoke of a creature. A creature which held the essence of the deadliest of hunters: black-skinned snake-like monstrosities woven and wrapped in a red, devouring thick liquid.  And the essence of their own - their anko. Their life force. Unstoppable. Holier and more fearsome than either side. The protector. The balance.

Their god - the beast of life. Their anko.

And the beast above all others, a beast which defended and fought against the corrupt essence inside it - the essence of the Feeders. Of those snake beings which devoured the ankojin, which tore at their thin fur with their terrifyingly jagged teeth, which made their life force hiss and screech and become overcome by their red, acidic liquid. Which killed them. Which ate them. Which feasted upon their newborns and how they were unable to slay the beings of nightmares.

Their god, their god of life, brought them hope. And they worshiped it. Tapestries of its mighty figure, of its beastly shape, were woven in the finest of fabrics. And how the children of the ankojin could roam the streets once more, and their Queen could rule over her species without a worry, for their legend guardian watched on. Assumingly so.

Yet the kingdom fell. Traitors and corrupt, Feeder-driven ankojins were brought to light, and lives were lost. The species broke apart, in multiple ways, and the number dwindled more and more until there were but a few, and extinction was a possibility. Nay, certain. And they cried. Cried for lives lost, cried for their fallen kingdom, and cried for their god. The Beast. For their god was their only hope of salvation.

Yet no answer whispered in the wind, and no god appeared before them in all its fearsome glory.

And the abandonment of their god forced some to madness, for revenge, for desperation of the ankojins.

----

Night. The sky was stained a deep, dark blue, with the slightest of stars gently sparkling above. The moon was full, casting its white moonlight across Mobius, and more importantly across the Great Forest where this tale is set. Said light softly reflecting off each individual leaf on the trees, some occasionally falling from the branches to place themselves upon the leaf-stained dirt-ridden path on the ground. A slight breeze whispered its way through, branches swaying back and forth, the crunching of leaves from the little paws of scuttling animals, a peaceful and yet eeiree setting, if simply for how quiet it was, bar the occasional howl of the wind.

Propped up against a tree was a black figure. Not simply due to the darkness cast across the land, but also due to the black skin. Pitch black, as black as night. Not a single strand of fur upon its body. The mobian, or what appeared to not be mobian, was slumped. Shoulders down, arms but the sides, head leaning back. Looking close, there seemed to be odd features. For one, the mobain seemed to have only three fingers, and each were clawed rather sharply. The same was with the feet. The second was that there seemed to be black spikes exiting its back and piercing the bark of the tree. That appeared to be natural for the creature.

Then again, if you were to cast your eyes across the scene, you'd first notice the terrifying amount of blue.

Blue splattered across the backside of the tree, as well as the chest of the creature. Almost blood-like from the looks of it. It stained the bark, and stained the creature's black skin, down its chest, past the groin, gently dripping onto the grass below. Its mouth stained with the same cyan blood, and was dribbling from the open lips, which bared black, jagged teeth, almost attached to the lip itself. Its forehead, arms and legs seemed to hold cyan markings, yet the left marking was replaced with a deep, long gash which left the hand holding on by a thread.

Eyes were closed. The chest, despite the massive wound, seemed to be rising back and forth, very very slowly. The creature lay there, against that tree, as the black skin where the large wound originated from seemed to ever so slowly dissolve, its own body ripping itself apart as time passed by.

Wandering through that very same night we find a kitsune.  The Kitsune,pitchblack in furcolor sneaks around through the night,using the dark and its furcolor to remain unseen as much as possible.
Suddenly,not far from the creature he stops,sniffing the air. ''What is that weird smell...'' Muttering he carefully follows the scenttrail,his bushy nine tails swishing behind him.

No sound from the black creature. Not a peep, not a whisper, not a mumbling. Its eyes remained closed, away from the world, its face void of any emotion, and simply stained blue at the jaw from the dripping cyan blood now caressing across the blades of glass as it dripped off his neck and down to the ground below. A finger on the right clawed hand twitched once, and only once in reply to the self-devouring skin around the wrist, finally dissolving away the remaining threads holding its hand to its arm as the black limb landed with a light thud. One would expect a significant rush of blood to come from the clawed hand separating from the wrist, the black vein-like tendrils from the stump loosely swaying from side to side, finally giving in on clinging it to the body.

He would cry if he were able to.

Following the trail the kitsune eventually comes near the creature whose pitifull state elects a gasp from the kitsune who then quickly goes towards it. He kneels down in front of it,trying to see if something can be done. ''Hey, Are you still with the living?'' He asks before mentally slapping himself for asking such a stupid question.

No reply.

An odd stench from the creature, really, bathed in its own blue blood. Almost like the stench of molten steel with a hint of ichor. Strong, considering the large amount ever so slowly pouring from the body, spreading across the blades of grass, dribbling through the furred chest, as well as the hand-less arm which was leaking like a dripping tap. A terrible state, really. More so from the chest being devoured as every minute passed.

Eyelids flickered for a mere moment at the kitsune's words, perhaps the soothing voice of another had managed to awake this creature from unconsciousness for a few minuscule seconds. The flickering revealing four glowing blue irises. Four eyes. Now that was unusual for a mobian.

Even so, that was enough of an indication to say 'yes'. It may have been a yes, but it was unknown to know how long this fellow would remain in this realm before departing to the afterlife.

''damnit.. What to do.. I got no experience with first aid,nowhere a town in sight.'' The kitsune mutters,very carefully checking over the wounds the creature has. Seemingly he has no problems with the fact that the creature has four eyes,though that might just be because he finds there is no time to dwell on that small tidbit. Instead he decides to try and use his crystal to stop the bleeding untill he manages to get it to someone who can actually help. But before he does so he summons a little bit of the aforementioned crystal in his paw and shows it to the creature. ''since i cant really do anything for you now i want to use this to temporarily cover your body in order to stop the bleeding untill i can get you to a doctor. Do you have any problems with that. I should add that if i use this it will mean you won't be able to move. I hope this won't be a problem?'' The kitsune explains and then goes quiet,waiting for a reply.

His head was numb. His body was numb. It felt like his chest was screaming and writhing, like an uncomfortable little worm was wriggling away at his insides with each second that ticked on by. Most likely due to the fact that the damned weapon was actually used against him. It hurt. And he didn't know how it felt to hurt until now. Physical, body-screaming pain. Agony. He didn't know he could. Wounds in the past could be healed up - he was capable of that. Like goo would he restore his body if it were slashed apart, if it were cut or sliced.

But this? It was new. And for once, he didn't like something new. He wishes he were dead. Dead would remove the pain.

Eyes flickered again. The voice was drowned out by the ringing in his head, but he could just barely make out words spoken. And it meant help of stopping the pain, of stopping his body eating away at itself until not even a skeleton remained of him. His unusual blood ran cold at the idea of further wounds upon his body, and he was grateful there were just three.

He was unable to nod, unable to move himself at all bar his eyes, and even then it was so much effort he doubted he could do it again. But the creature's back spikes, which had impaled the tree behind him, slowly receded back into his body. That was the best indication he could give, really.

The kitsune sighs and genly places the paw with the bit of crystal which,upon touching the creature, starts spreading over it,covering it with a thin but strong and rigid layer of hardened crystal. After doing so he carefully picks it up,having left a hole in front of what he assumes is its face in order to prevent the creature from choking due to a lack of air. After all, its kinda hard to safe someone when he or she is no longer breathing.

Seconds after the paw touched him, the black-skinned being slipped back into unconsciousness once more, the pain being far too much for him to handle, and staying conscious during those few moments had exhausted his body. Pain drifted away as his body bled away, and as the black-skin grew less and less as minutes passed. He couldn't feel it eat away He couldn't feel the crystal slowly spread across his body. His vision, quite simply, remained in blackness.

But he could dream. He was grateful for that.

And he dreamt of a forest. It was the afternoon, a little cold and a little windy. He could feel the grass beneath his feet as he walked, the sun casting itself through the gaps in the leaves above, making little shadows dance on the ground. It made him smile. There was little sound, besides the shuffling of little paws across the ground, crunching leaves underfoot.

And he felt an ungodly amount of pain, as a long, blood-stained sword pierced the back of his head, exiting out of his mouth. In shock, in pain, in fear, he bit down on the sword, which caused his mouth to scream in agony from that red substance coating it. The back of his head was on fire. Instinctively, his spikes shot out of his back, and a scream was heard which echoed throughout the forest.

The kitsune quickly rushes in the direction of the nearest city,constantly checking on the creature to make sure its still alive. ''Come on, no dieing for you just yet..'' He mutters,soon making his way to Central City. [Not sure which city was to closest so i pickied CC] Once there he searches for the hospital,slowly but surely making his way there.

He could taste his own blood billowing and bubbling in his throat. He couldn't speak, as it simply came out as a gurgling cry for help. Pain. That was all his mind was screaming as he held the sword which had impaled through his mouth. He'd never felt it before. And he was frozen in place from shock. It hurt. His whole body was shaking.

He felt the metal slide out from his fingers, back out of his head, a whoosh in the air as the assaulter readied another blow. He couldn't move. His head was screaming to, but then again it was screaming many things. And it was screaming most of all that the innards of his skull felt as if it were being devoured by some invisible insect, or acid was corroding it away. His brain was in lockdown. The corrosion hurt.

But he whirled on his feet instinctively, out of panic, the body telling him to defend himself as the sword came down once more. He caught sight of the attacker.

Her.

---

The city was bustling. Despite the creeping blanket of darkness covering the buildings and streets, lights were flashing and cars were about. A few civilians, a very small few, flinched and slipped away at the appearance of the black kitsune entering the city. Nightlife was up and alive, and all seemed to be well. The hospital? Center of the city. Then again, in this world, it did have to be in the center, didn't it?

Quickly moving towards the city's center after being pointed in that direction the kitsune enters the hospital,calling for a doctor

She looked so different without her crown, without her royal attire, red satin robes and golden jewelry adorning her wonderful white fur. An odd creature, from a mobian's glance. White fur, yes, with little hints of a warm orange and blazing red. But those unusual eyes - black eye whites and bright blue eyes. No pupils within the cyan iris. She held markings, just like the wounded black creature, along the wrist and legs and her ears resembled that of wings. Three fingers, not five, on that hand which held the sword in her hand.

She looked just like her mother, if one would excuse the orange and red. That beautiful white fur. Common for royalty. A princess forced Queen through a violent murder of her mother, the poor dear. Forced to keep everything in place, the massive responsibility of many like a slab of lead on her shoulders. But now? She did not have that. She simply stood there, bleeding from the wounds created by his own defense mechanism in his back, holding her arm which held the sword which was causing him so much pain in his brain. That fierce, yet terrified expression blazing in her blue eyes.

The sword came down. He could do little, in such a short amount of time, except block with his arm to shield his body. He couldn't do anything. It felt like his mind was fizzling and hissing each time he attempted to strike back. And now his hand screeched with agony, before going numb, and that agony quickly shifted to his entire arm. Again, it raised, and the black being took several steps back, the most he could do before he collapsed, head slamming against the trunk of a tree. He couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He was facing death in the eyes, and she glared back with determination.

He remembered one morning, when little miss Zankh had a nightmare. Poor thing woke up screaming in her chambers, shaking from her dream, sobbing that the monsters were going to eat her up and spit her out in front of her family. And then eat them too.  And Boa had rushed into the chambers, and she wailed into his chest for him to keep the nasty monster away, to protect her from the nightmares. And he said he would. Because he wouldn't let anything touch her. For she was little miss Zankh and she had a grand future ahead of her. And he was Boa, her special secret friend who only her Mother knew about, who could make the nasty creatures go away.

She pierced the sword into his chest, and he let out a gurgling screech in the back of his  impaled throat. And, despite his brain slowly switching off, he could still muster enough agony in his system to writhe, to jolt his head up, to attempt to claw at her with his claws. His body, shaking wildly like a caught snake, impaled to the tree, his black skin corroding away with each touch of that bloodied hilt.

She pulled it out of him, his body slumping, eyes closing. He waited for death to deliver the final blow. To end him. Just so his entire body would stop throbbing and burning like fire. The blade lay against his neck. That stung too. Just a simple slice.

She hesitated. She stood. No-longer-little miss Zankh ran.

---

As the hospital doors opened for the kitsune, he was greeted to a white room. Many mobians rushing about to tend to the wounded, white clothing many. Assistants jogging to and fro rooms to keep things organised. To keep things safe, as well as the patients themselves. Seemed to be a busy night.

The reception desk was at the back of the room, flanked by two double doors which led to the rest of the building (and toilets to further left, in that corner over there, you know the one).  The mobian at the desk jolted her head up at the arrival of someone through the doors. And certainly looked perplexed considering the black many-tailed kitsune was holding a slab of mobian-sized crystal.

The black kitsune gently places the slab with the creature inside on the desk. ''Please help. I found this little guy in the forest bleeding out of various wounds. '' He speaks quickly,perhaps even too quickly and has a bit of the crystal dissolve,making sure to still keep all wound pressed closed

Well. Huh. That wasn't anything special. The receptionist heard the words 'help', 'forest' and 'wounds' and, well, that was pretty much all that was needed to know. She tapped her pencil on the deck with a sigh, reached for the hospital phone, and began to speak.
"Mm. Got another case here. The usual. Attacked. Mm."
There was a pause as the mobian reached up to grasp the bridge of her nose in irritation. Or boredom. Or both.
"Brought in by a fox thing. Kitsune, mm. Unconscious. Or coma. I dunno. Mm."

She placed the phone down, propped her head up against the desk with her elbow, hand on cheek, and sighed a second time, "Said they'll be about a minute. Just take a seat over there. Mm-hm." She directed with her pencil towards the doors where they entered, beside them, chairs. Quite a few, actually. Some were occupied. "Take 'em with you," and the direction of the pencil was quickly switched to that of the crystal, "Gonna need details and such. Name? Or yours, at least. Mm, do that later. Once they've picked 'em up, mm-hm."

The kitsune nods and gently lifts up the slab,carrying it with him to the waiting areae where he sits down,placing the slab on the chair next to him and keeps it in place with his tails in order to keep it from falling and shattering,something that would have disastrous consequences such as the slab shattering along with the creature inside it. No, that wouldn't be a good thing. On the contrary. It would be a disaster and it would mean that all the kitsune's hard work to get it here safely to be treated would be all for nothing. So yeah,keeping it firmly in place on the chair.

And, lo and behold did the doctors walk in, double doors opening, stretcher included. They would call for a name, but none was given other that 'kitsune fox thing'. And, considering others about, it was easy to tell who that was. Here's a hint: It would be the black furred kitsune fox thing with many tails holding a slab of crystal.

And so the stretcher was put before him, as doctors heaved the trapped mobian upon it, before one asked: "Ah, good sir, would it be a possibility to remove this hard substance from the body? It would be rather difficult to work on this fellow with it being there."

Two were discussing to the side, as the doctor was asking. They seemed to be looking over him, shaking their heads. "Ah, weird. I mean, if you look through it, you'll see blue."
"Mm-hm. And another came in with heavy wounds, bleeding blue. Might be of the same race? Or species. Either way."
"Same treatment then. Hopefully it'll work the same."

He nods. ''Ofcourse. But i advice to be ready. His wounds were bleeding quite heavily'' He replies,placing a paw on the crystal trapping the creature. A faint glow and purpleish marking spread over the slab and after a bit it starts to revert to its liquid state,the drops rushing back towards the kitsune and onto his outstretched arm where it moves over to his chest. Once there the liquid crystal seemingly digs itself into the kitsune's body,freeing the creature from its firm hold.

And the creature slumped against the stretcher, eyes still closed, still unconscious, still bleeding, soaking the thin material with that cyan colour. Honestly, like the kitsune stated, it was to be expected. The wounds never healed and, rather got worse with each passing minute and hour.

The doctors wheeled him away, covering the black-skinned being with a white cloth. A lot of white - white room, white doctor coats, which cloth, and now blue was added to the mix. A few followed, but one informed the black kitsune to give his details to the reception to inform him of progress.

The black kitsune nods,watching them go before moving to the desk and waits there till its his turn again. While waiting he calmly looks around the waiting area,glancing at the people gathered there.

Doors closed. Things went on as usual. There was the slight tip-tapping of a keyboard humming in the background, the coughing of a few with the occasional sniffle. Thudding of footsteps in the halls further from here, a mumbling of voices hushed somewhat by the thick walls separating rooms. The ceiling lamp illuminating the room swayed gently from side to side, as well as casting a bright light enough to illuminate the windows to the darkened sky outside, though the moon and the stars up above could do that by themselves.

A few tip-taps later of fingers against a keyboard, as well as the awkward shuffling of patients waiting, some holding hidden wounds, others holding their children, and the black kitsune was called over to reception. Forms to be filled. Huzzah.

Name, name of patient, address, contact details. It was not preferred to leave them blank.

The last was, of course, who would be paying for the fees of treatment.

He pulls the forms towards him and starts filling them in. However,due to him being the one who destroyed SS he decides to not use his own name but use the name of his older brother,also filling in his brother's name and payment details.

And how the receptionist examined the papers, as well as the kitsune, with the most bored of expressions. Eyes half closed, frowning, would clearly rather be out of work considering how close she was to falling a sleep. "Mm. That should be fine, mister..." She picked up the completed sheet, looking over it to make sure each section was filled in, "...Cael. Feel free to visit during visiting hours, yadda-yadda. We'll keep you updated on their progress and whatever if you want. Or not and you can piss off. I don't really care, mm."

She slipped the paper into the desk slot, and continued watching the clock tick by. "You can leave now, unless there's something up with you too, mm-hm."

He nods in thanks,turning to walk off. ''I guess i will be back later then. And a piece of advice. Go drink some coffee or splash some water in your face. You look like crap'' he comments,heading for the exit and wanders off,looking around the city.

The receptionist simply grumbled under her breath, still tapping that little pencil against the paper with half-closed eyelids, occasionally turning back to fix her hair out of sheer boredom. Ahh, hospital jobs. Not as exciting as one might imagine when it's the same thing over and over. "Mm-hm."

Months passed, and the unusual creature was bandaged up in the arm, the abdomen and the mouth. Yet, despite as such, was stuck in an awful coma, the only sign of life being the occasionally slow rising of the furry chest. The bill was sent out, to the most unfortunate who was signed to it, and needless to say that said bill was a rather hefty one. Yet in the end, the coma passed, eyes fluttered open, and doctors rushed to work once more.

Several more passed, where the black-skinned mobian would recover. Relearning to walk from the lack of use in his legs, jogging his memory of what happened and the latest news on the past few months he had been gone (seven, to be exact. He'd certainly missed a lot) and just trying to get himself back in working order. The bandages had to remain, and had to be cleaned once every two days to avoid sticking and merging with the skin.

Yet while this occurred, and while the creature was readying himself to walk out of the hospital, another was wandering the forests. A white furred mobain with a grey muzzle, and wonderful shades of red and orange adorning her fur. Deep blue eyes, similar to that of the mobian mentioned before (yet only two - not four) and robe attire with a grey, metal 'skirt'. She seemed shifty, taking a few steps every now and again out of sheer paranoia, a sword sheathed in a holster. Needless to say, camouflage was impossible. Not only for the white fur, but for the blue markings adorning her wrists and ankles. The species, unknown. There was the possibility of hedgehog, but the grey furred muzzle and the lack of quils made it impossibility. The grey fur may say wolf or fox, but there was no tail. Finally, what species has three fingers rather than five? She tip-toed through the forest, hand drawn at her bloodstained weapon, shift eyes looking to and fro for danger.