The Embrace of Oblivion and Gods

Tarmen was content with his death. It wasn’t how he saw it happening, far from, but he wouldn’t have made any other choice. He just hoped it wasn’t a waste and the others had fought the raiders off.
Finding himself floating through a void, he questioned if this was what death brought. If so, he didn’t like the thought of spending eternity here. Could be his own personal hell, left with nothing to do and no chance of seeing another person. Perfect.
It felt like ages passed, stuck with the thoughts he had been trying to suppress. Thoughts of home. Of old triumphs. Old losses. Old crew. New crew. What his path had been.

“You were weak. Literally gave that stray dog your life and for what?”

Tarmen grimaced at the ever familiar grunts of the Boar. Slivhiki. When he tried to give some snide response, he found his voice dead in his throat. Fitting. Annoying, but fitting.

“I do commend leaving the Odonine to their slaughter. There was a savagery, a ruthlessness, that had so much potential.”

A form leaked from the void, like Tarmen’s passage was lighting the darkness around him. The body was man, massive and rippling with muscles taught with fury. He only saw the back at first, a thick, coarse strip of hair running its length before reaching the boar’s head that turned to face him with contempt.

“Wasted.”

The god looked beaten himself, scars new and old dotted his body and one eye was grayed from one such wound. Patches of fur were gone, leaving flesh that looked as dead as K’ol’s frostbite.

“Now I am left with you as my herald,” The Boar spat onto whatever ground he stood on,” Yet you can not even uphold my Creed. Scattered to the wind when you should have bound them to your will.”

Tarmen seemed to find some footing at eye level with the God, still dwarfed, but chest full from what he wanted to say to this near dead god. The two beings stood for a moment, glaring with contempt at being shackled with the other.
Slivhiki was the first who sought an end to their little contest of wills, seemingly about to strike Tarmen when a blade shot out from the void to strike his hand. The Boar seemed only inconvenienced by this, pulling the blade out before looking towards its owner.
Tarmen hadn’t noticed anyone else joining them, but now there stood two more.
Pulling a sword from its sheath was what looked like living armor. No flesh could be seen, just interlocking metal complete with an iron mask that bore no defining features other than the band of metal that obstructed the eyes.
The other seemed more familiar. A fair skinned woman that dressed plainly, yet elegantly; like some sort of humble noble. From her neck was the symbol of Zin.
The armor spoke first, a thunderous voice like the drums of war that filled Tarmen with a calm courage.

“Who are you to berate his perceived failures, when your dedicated followers were cut down so easily? By your own command, he should leave them for being so weak.”

The boar head contorted in animalistic fury, Slivhiki moving to avenge the slight to his pride. The two gods didn’t get their duel however, the woman stepping between them and silencing both with a look. She then came towards Tarmen. A cold, earthy wind accompanied her lyrical, yet hollow voice.
“You know me, yes?”

He nodded in understanding, though was confused why Zinhiem would be a woman when depicted as a man.
The goddess chuckled at his confusion.

“I am as you perceive me. Why else haven’t you ever settled down if not because you are a lover with death, enjoying its execution and reveling in others’ end?”

The idea wasn’t foreign to Tarmen. He had often questioned if that life was possible for him. Could a savage from Kru’ll find peace without the thrills of battle? Like he had been ‘living it up’ for the last few days. Perhaps it was a lofty ideal to look for love as a vagabond, especially one he hadn’t pursued with the greatest of purpose.
No. It was a nice thought, that’s all it had ever been, but he also didn’t see death as its replacement.
Seemingly aware of his thoughts, the form shifted into an older form. One he truly recognized. Zin had always felt like a distant mother, cruel in her lessons, but willing to help her favored children. Maybe a reason why he refused to join a church, they didn’t see death in the same way.
He began to put the pieces together for the identity of the armor. Always geared for war, yet blind in its judicious fury. It had to be Vastad. While Zin was a mother, Vastad was like an older brother. Always by his side, though willing to let him take a punch or two. He assumed the armor was like Zin, as he perceived. Currently he was glaring at Slivhiki, clearly looking for a chance to attack the Boar.
If this was some meeting of the gods for his death however, Tarmen wondered where the rest of the pillars were. Like before, Zin was almost connected to his mind.

“Like the family you see us as, they are near. You just have a closer connection to war and death. How do you see the Boar? If true, he hails from your homeland. Would you not see him as kin?”

Another question he had been asking. He had come to despise Slivhiki, him and the imp both. Their demands and nagging voices had worn him down for so long, he wasn’t even sure if they had been real or just some madness within him. To think of the Boar as family… it didn’t feel right. He had never agreed with the church’s demand for belief, for their followers to sell themselves to a faith dictated by men.
Tarmen had faith in the gods, but he rarely had any in men.
Slivhiki was no different. A tired tyrant that fought against his own fate, lashing out at his enemies and followers alike. He understood the gods' lesson that nothing comes for free and sacrifices must be made, he had sentenced others to death to further his own goals before. Vastad had spoken true before. He had no interest in leading a group of fanatics if his crew could slay them so easily. The Neph-Kin had been more of an issue than the Creed.
Something bubbled from within him, a burning sensation like he had been drinking all night and morning had come to bring it to light again. As it reached his throat, Tarmen felt a blockage loosen and with a little effort, the burning exited his mouth with his voice.
He looked to the gods gathered, whether real or some figment of his dying mind, then landed on Slivhiki as he gave his decree.

“I see him as no family. More like a homeless wretch that keeps clawin’ at my leg for scraps. I do not serve any god, they are a part of this world just as any man is and that belief served me well enough.”

He gave a bow to Zin and Vastad, grateful for the resolve and strength they had given him for all these years. Looking to Slivhiki, the god broiled with fury, but in the end was left to fume into the void as his form vanished.
There were more questions he had, about before and now, but laid them to rest. No use asking questions when you’re dead. He did wish he could have seen if the others had escaped or not, but he assumed if they hadn’t then he would meet them soon.
Once again Zin read him like a book.

“I admire your resolve, but this doesn’t have to be your end. You still have life, the only reason you would pass is if you allowed it.”

His brow furrowed at this revelation. He had expected no choice in the matter, whether by the gods decree or through K’ol cleaving his head off. If that weren’t the case, then something had happened to allow someone to care for him. With everything that had been done to him, he knew he wouldn’t survive without it.
The thought of being able to decide left him at a loss, all things given. Should he accept death, he could reconcile with his guilt of the attack and more by removing his recklessness from the world. It would leave the others with a more concrete group, full of their stupidly endearing optimism and openness towards eachother.
He felt a pull to stay with them at the same time. An unwillingness to abandon them and the bonds he had made, mostly with Alexis and Voah. They were usually at odds with him, Alexis with her honor and Voah with her faith, but they had fought savages and imps and still managed to survive. Good allies in his book and proving to be a good crew.

“I believe there is a place for everyone. I want to find mine.”

He couldn’t change himself, but he could learn to direct his more dangerous aspects, like a blade wielded by a master. Plus, he had promised Voah the truth and now he believed he could deliver it. He had things to answer for and he figured that could be a good start.
He noticed the gods beginning to fade and had one more question.

“Are you real or just some fantasy in my head?”

The smokey form of Zin’s face smiled down at him.

“It is as you perceive.”

Left in the dark, Tarmen couldn’t decide what to make of the scene had witnessed. He figured it was something to be thought of once awake.

~~~~~~
Outside of his mind, Tarmen’s body lay still, his breath shallow, each wheeze barely heard over the din surrounding him. He had no idea of his friends' attempts to keep him alive or Voah’s sword on his chest.
His fingers still found the hilt, unable to grip it, but simply resting on it. In his comatose state, he began to murmur softly.