THE CHOSEN ONE.

KILL THEM. KILL THEM ALL. THEY TOOK YOUR BROTHER'S LIFE. YOU TAKE ALL OF THEIRS.

In truth? He doesn’t know what brother these poor bastards killed. (How many did he have now?) All he knows—? His Father is angry, blood thirsty. One whispered word to Orin and she's just as ravenous for it; maybe worse.

His head swims with the need to slaughter and he aches down to his bones with it. It makes his teeth throb, his fingers twitch, head thrumming. Reos can barely focus on anything other than the lives he takes for Bhaal. Cutting down elf after elf, painting the streets in their blood until it’s a river through cobblestone. Orin having already pranced off to their Temple ahead— overlooking the town.

Orin’s dabbling in the gory arts is lost on the elder bhaalspawn. Bhaal wants death in numbers, he doesn’t care how it’s done, doesn’t care for show— nor does he care for the sick displays she leaves behind. Yet… their father doesn’t seem to dissuade her either. Reos finds it fucking obnoxious and a waste of time.

When he’s sure all of them are dead, he heads into the Temple. Blood soaked, riding the high of Bhaal’s blessing for his wicked deeds. Every life slaughtered in the name of Bhaal— brother avenged. Another city devoured by Bhaal’s whims.

Reos follows the blood trail, the decapitated heads like petals littered along a path for a lover. Heat courses through his veins, cock already hard and leaking against the fabric of his trousers. Bhaal’s wish for him to breed after such a numerous slaughter. Near delirious high poisoning his veins. Reos does his best to ignore it.

He steps inside and Orin bows dramatically, grip swinging to snatch a goblet from one straggler. A lone elf. She cuts his throat and he gurgles; she shamelessly fills the goblet to the brim with the spray of blood that pulses from his artery. Slicked in his blood, her smile sharp enough to kill.

“You fucking left half the city behind because you wanted the gods damned Temple,” Reos’ hand reaches out and he snatches her braid, careful of the jewelry within. He twists it around his fist and tugs her closer by the grip on her hair. “I was doing what Father asked for.”

She offers the goblet— “I should kill you here for defying Him— defying me.” Reos snarls, pulling her by the braid toward the fountain that’s centered in the Temple. Its waters already run red, yet he knocks her blood filled goblet into it.

"You sound jealous when you speak of the lordling, slaughterkin." Reos sneers, shoving her head down to the thick, bloody waters. "Since you want a drink so fucking bad," he presses her into it face first for a moment, curling her over the edge of the fountain. Reos lets her struggle against his body, thick muscle holding her in place, drowning her in the blood of their sacrifices.

Somewhere... he can hear Bhaal laughing.

"Don't be jealous, brother mine." Coyly purred despite the roll of her eyes ( fading from sky blue to undead white between one sip and the next ). "Or is this to be your confessional?" Head canting with a sickening crack - ! "Surely, despite your extracurriculars ... you did not fail our Father, afterall?" Corpse-kissed lips twisting into a cruel smile that reaches her eyes. Coquettish smile daring to linger even as her slaughterkin's hand coiled amidst bloodied locks like a leash. "Father asked for blood." Drawn closer, closer, and closer still as she extends her offering in a show of uncharacteristically patient wait. "Or did you forget as all yours flooded south? Filthy cock yearning to slip-slide inside that little lordling of yours?"

She doesn't deign to give him any sound of pain. Of discomfort. Only the sibling-like screeches demanding him to release her. Clawed digits raking at his wrist with a warning. "Ungrateful! Boorish bother of a brother!" She refuses him what he wishes: the proper acknowledgement of anything other than a blood bond. Stripping him of due titles: Chosen. Prophet of the End.

It would neither be the first, nor the last that she'd defy him .

Even as the goblet's easily struck from her grasp. Clattering as it hits the edge of the fountain and sinks into the thick of the crimson waters within. Snarling fury and roaring madness. "Filthy, pig-headed oaf! You defy him with your blasphemy! Or tell me, does the lordling grow fat with child!?" Forcefully curled over the fountain. Body writhing against Reos' own in protestation. The last one she's afforded before she sees red and only red —- .

Thrashing amongst the best of them. Body violently shifting — bleeding between shapes, sizes, and colors — as she spasms and squirms. Futile beneath the grip of her elder. Inhaling deep upon a muted scream as bubbles flowed to the surface around her skull before consequences flood her lungs. Choking beneath his filthy palm. Her lungs on fire until he finally lifts her head and grants her the luxury of air.