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Written by Choice Cuts Deli

Commission for Anonymous | February 2021 | 6002 Words

The legends say that on the day of the Lifegiver's Festival, the stars themselves descend to pay homage to the great beast who created all mer-folk. It certainly looked like it as hundreds, if not thousands, of tiny flickering lanterns floated their lazy way down the Escarod River. Each lantern was meticulously built, crafted from bladder kelp, murkwater petals, and little bundles of burning pitch, to create a brilliant sea of twinkling stars. Each one performed a smooth waltz with the flowing tide, pirouetting about the breakwater reefs of the Great Harbor of Talassa, before wandering their way out to the shimmering, hand-made galaxy out at sea.

Yet despite the beauty, the Festival of the Lifegiver was not a celebration, but rather a solemn day for the mer-folk of Talassa. For generations, perhaps longer, the people of this region lived in fear of the great leviathan that stalked the ocean waves. Kryshol, the Lifegiver, was legend made flesh, a beast whose very survival was predicated on the enslavement of an entire race. The winding and twisting serpent, his blue scaled hide as dark as the deepest recesses of the ocean, had spent eons taming and subjugating the mer-folk, becoming nothing short of a living deity.

The mer-folk's myths and legends all suggested that he created the people of Talassa. They hammered home the point that life was his to give or take. And take was what the gluttonous creature did best. At first, he hunted them for sustenance, hemming their living space into the bay which would later become their fair city. In time, the mer-folk came to revere him as supernatural, as a deity in his own right, occasionally kind enough to intervene on their behalf, yet always demanding tribute in the form of fresh mer-folk to devour. The people of Talassa lived in fear that they might be caught within his pincers and torn asunder, or dragged to the deepest depths to be scorched upon volcanic vents. Kryshol even took great pleasure declaring that torture and pain made oily mer-folk meat sweeter. The peoples' terror and fear bred obedience and complacency. Even the suggestion of resistance was quashed with tales of old Talassan kings whose impudence nearly eradicated their whole city by invoking the Lifegiver's wrath.

That is, until the Nova crystals were discovered. Forced to live upon the margins of the ocean, the mer-folk settled a semi-aquatic life, building upon the tributary of a major river. As they expanded landwards, a city began to take shape, seamlessly built to accommodate life above and below the water line. Yet as prospectors moved inland searching for iron, they came across the strange and glowing crystalline formations that dotted the landscape. A massive seam of strange, radiating gemstones were discovered, the beautiful stones quickly found to produce energy in quantities far higher than the primitive steam engines they could create.

Talassa boomed, the Nova enabling the city to experience its first industrial revolution, ushered in with this new energy source. Life for the mer-folk would change forever. But even technological revolutions often require bloodshed.

Ven Mattar sighed from his position in the Great Harbor, watching the procession of lanterns wash out to sea. The brash, thirty-something military leader gripped his Nova Lance in his webbed hand, squeezing it softly until the crystal-infused head glowed a soft purple. The cobalt-blue skinned mer-man turned his broad shoulders towards the walls of the harbor, his movement flashing the pink fin-tips that adorned his head, neck and upper back, before tamping the butt of his lance upon the floor with a resonant thump. Across the harbor walls, a series of purple Nova flashes answered the silent call, a smile curling across the mer-man's face as he turned to begin the day's proceedings.

As they did every year, the leader of the Talassan military and the King of Talassa would meet to present tribute to Kryshol, to show their reverence to the great deity. The proceedings were closed to the public for generations due to their demeaning and horrific nature. Ven's hands still shook from the tortures he had to perform at last year's festival, the pleas of the sacrificial victims still echoing in his mind as he walked through the vacated halls of the Great Harbor. Stepping towards the pillared entryway, the soldier knelt, bracing his open palm across his chest in salute to his king.

Stunning as an eel, King Tung Mar II was no more than a decade older than Ven, still spry when he inherited the throne but six years prior. His gorgeous aqua skin shimmered in the summer sun as he walked from the city into the harbor's large, circular unloading area (emptied of its usual goods for the day's proceedings). An array of flashy purple finlets adorned the sides and back of his body. Each one was perked up by a specially fitted tunic, decorated with Nova embroidery to create a rich glow about his body.

"Arise, General Mattar," the King said, his facial expression marred by nerves as he looked back over his shoulder. Behind him, a cage was carried upon a litter, the iron bars packed with ten, maybe fifteen, mer-folk destined to be the first of many sacrifices to placate the leviathan. "Curious you chose to wear no armor to face the beast?" The King added when his attention finally returned, his arms reaching out to embrace his old friend before directing the cage into the berth of the massive stone-and-iron harbor.

"I want him to feel at ease for our celebration tonight, My Lord." Ven smirked as he gave the King a pat on the shoulder, following close to his left. "Besides, if the legends are true, what good would armor do?"

"I doubt the legends more and more each day. Though I also pray that we don't underestimate his power." Heaving a sigh, King Tung breathed in the warm salt air, a smile growing across his face. "If we pull this off, we do more than avenge our race for the horrors we have endured."

"If we kill the old god, we wrest control of our divinity." A flash of excitement grew upon the King's face, meeting the smirk that crossed Ven's own. "...At worst, we go down in legend as yet another of the Lifegiver's usurpers. But I hope it doesn't come to that."

"Let us hope." The King nodded with a smile, taking a deep breath as he walked forward to the edge of the Great Harbor, peering down the titanic mer-made chasm as his toes stepped lightly into the water. "Let the Festival of the Lifegiver commence!"

Bullhorns sang out, first one, then four, soon a cacophony of bellowing noises heralded an eerie calm across the city of Talassa. The Harbor buzzed with noise as large Nova-powered steam engines began to hiss, the pistons slowly transferring their energy to open the massive harbor locks. Two heavy iron doors began to lazily swing open, churning up the water and sinking a few glittering lanterns that didn't quite make it out of the river delta in time. As the doors swung wide, Ven's eyes scanned the horizon, waiting with bated breath as the first bubbles broke the surface.

At first, it looked like a shark fin parting the ocean. Ven watched as floating lanterns sunk in the wake of waves all about the growing gargantuan form. Mer-folk crowded the shores and estuaries, perching atop city buildings to get a glimpse of the living deity, watching the massive beast slither through the water towards the gaping mouth of the Great Harbor. For some, the mere presence of the leviathan was enough to send shivers down their spines. Others knelt or prostrated on the sandy beach, just out of reach should he turn wrathful, but still visible so as not to anger their creator god. But Kryshol was focused only upon his meeting with the King, and the tribute he was owed for his tenuous 'protection.'

The serpentine creature's head emerged as he entered the harbor's mouth, a bright aqua frill lining his face and gills, each of his finlets tipped with an electric yellow tip. Berthing out of the water in a show of strength, he flashed the two massive pincers that were pinioned just below his head. While not designed for fine detail work, they practically dripped with the blood of thousands of mer-folk, living creatures he had ripped apart or impaled with the slender digits. Curling up inside the confines of the Great Harbor, Kryshol didn't seem to mind that he had to position himself in a way that left his massive slit visible to all in attendance. Ven couldn't help but steal a look down towards it, aware that tucked deep inside were two massive and meaty cocks, like one would find on a shark. The beast was unashamed of his sexual power, a symbol of his virility and potency, the life-givers of the Lifegiver.

"Kneel before your creator, mer-folk," the leviathan boomed in a low, resonant voice that echoed within the metal halls of the Great Harbor. The pair knelt before The Lifegiver, bowing their heads in reverence. Yet as the King began to officiate with flowery language and supplications for his peoples' continued lives, Ven began to sneak looks about the harbor. Kryshol had parked himself in such a way that left his tail just outside the harbor gates. That wouldn't do, he needed to be all the way inside for this to work. "And you, warrior." The serpent bellowed, jarring Ven from his focus. "Bring to me the first victim... I enjoyed how you trembled last ceremony."

Ven gave a soft nod to the beast, swallowing hard as he tried not to cast his gaze upon the serpent's display, beginning to fondle itself with one of its pincers, the tip of his claw teasing the edge of his slit. Stepping to the cage, Ven carefully selected a young mer-maid, barely an adult and so hopeful for life. Gripping her by the wrist, he tugged her close, planting his mouth next to her ear as he feigned having to struggle with her.

"When I say," Ven whispered softly, "run to the city." As he stepped back with his first sacrifice in hand, the general left the cage door cracked, ensuring the remaining tributes would have a chance to escape. Dragging the maiden towards her impending death, Kryshol leaned in closer to get a better look at the girl, his tail flitting in the harbor mouth as he growled. "Oh, great Lifegiver... Let this flower of our kind sate your hung-"

"Bring her to the brazier..." Kryshol growled as he motioned his head towards one of the many open-top metal furnaces burning along the length of the Great Harbor, their brilliant coals illuminating the berths. "I wish to hear her scream..." Realizing this was not going to plan, Ven squeezed tighter on the girl's body as she began to scream and struggle, her trust tenuous as he led her step by faltering step towards one of the massive iron burners. Filled with hot coals, it would have easily turned the young mermaid into a sizeable quantity of grilled seafood. Ven's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to push aside the memories of last year's festival, his mind pleading and screaming for Kryshol to move inside just a little more. Rippling his body to get a better view, the Lifegiver made his fateful mistake, the tip of his finned tail lazily curling into the harbor at long last. Pushing the mer-maid closer to the roaring coals, Ven leaned in close enough to whisper.

"Now." In a moment, he had let go, webbed hand and Nova-tipped lance raising to distract the serpentine beast as the captive made a mad dash for freedom. His voice echoed through the harbor halls as he shouted, "NOW!" Flashes of Nova lined the walls and roof of the harbor as soldiers sprang from their positions. The glowing display of purple was underscored by a rumble of hissing noise as steam engines began to whine throughout the docks. While the doors to the harbor swung open lazily, the sudden influx of power caused them to slam shut, sending a gushing wave of water washing over Kryshol. The flood of water splashed out of the anchorage area, reaching up to the King's ankles as he stood upon the edge of the berth, a defiant clench to his jaw as he stared down the Lifegiver. Yet despite being trapped within the steel structure, the serpent seemed more amused than enraged at the traitorous mer-folk before him.

"Heh... Your kind have tried, and failed, to ensnare me before." Kryshol splashed his whip-like tail behind him, growling as he gave a full body turn to survey the prison he was stuck in. "Wood, nor stone, nor metal can restrain he who created your kind."

"Your reign ends, Kryshol," King Mar declared, swallowing softly as he glanced to Ven for support, the tactician silently issuing orders to his soldiers with the head of his Nova Lance. "The people of Talassa will take our lives into our own hands. And you will feel the suffering of the civilization you've tormented before the light leaves your eyes."

"So be it, usurper..." The leviathan growled, turning his head back towards the king. But before he could move to punish the impudent king, something caught his eye. Something that wasn't there before. Row upon row of metal grates were built into the floor of the Great Harbor. They were hardly worth a look previously, but now he realized each of the iron grills were belching small bubbles up to the surface in a rhythmic pattern. Suddenly noticing the waterline, Kryshol realized he was not only trapped, but the water was draining from inside the harbor. Massive Nova powered steam pumps were suctioning the water away, leaving the beast high and dry. "Wh-what?!"

Realizing he would be beached upon dry ground, Kryshol lunged himself forward, the Lifegiver charging through the dwindling water, determined to punish the presumptuous king. Ven watched, counting the pillars the beast crossed before swiping his lance through the air.

"Loose!" He cried, Kryshol barreling down upon the king. There was a hesitation, prompting Ven to scream, "Now!" as he rushed to place himself between the beastly deity and the king. Planting the butt of his lance to the floor, the tactician closed his eyes tight, drawing what could have been his last breath as the leviathan of legend bore down upon his fragile body.

He lived long enough to take a second breath, just as a sickening cry screeched out from the beast. With a hiss of steam, a massive piston plunged down from the ceiling above, the weighted and Nova powered head crashing into the serpent with a bone-crushing crack. As the last water drained out of the Harbor, Kryshol lay pinioned against the floor. He was slightly on his side, gasping and trapped in a way that left his soft belly and cock-slit visible. Gripping his lance tight, Ven shouted for his soldiers to attack. The Lifegiver's tail whipped and slashed in a vain attempt to break free as mer-folk clambered about the serpent in a frantic struggle to subdue the beast. Rope and chain lashed this way and that until the leviathan was restrained enough to declare victory.

Kryshol lay helpless upon the harbor floor, flopping limp like a fish as the sound of triumphant horns and trumpets wailed through the streets of Talassa. As the serpentine beast realized his struggles were all in vain, he turned his attention to the city's entryway, watching throngs of mer-folk descend upon the great harbor. His worries became more and more apparent as the Talassan citizens gathered in droves to gawk at the beast, The atmosphere quickly turned festive, curiosity and cheers evolving into revelry. A multitude of vendor stalls, hawking small bites and festive garlands, were quickly erected about the drained harbor and the squirming Leviathan. The somber day became a festival of joy, far different from the deadly wails of torture that the Festival of the Lifegiver usually brought to the people of Talassa.

Ven watched with bright eyes as his soldiers descended from upon the beast, having finished tightening the restraints to ensure there would be no further problems from the captured deity. Many were already being cheered for their bravery, the people showering them with garlands and praise. Ven made sure to congratulate each one as they stepped past, commenting on any bruises or scrapes they may have received and continually repeating his pride at how cohesive they were when taking down their now ex-god. He spoke well with an earshot of Kryshol, occasionally shooting a glance back over his shoulder to watch the expression on the crestfallen serpent. The face that struck terror into generations grew more and more horrified as he realized there was no escape from those he had enslaved. Music and celebratory shouts begin to fill the Great Harbor, the dry basin turned to a makeshift festival ground.

At the center of it all, King Mattar II stepped forward to take his place at the head of the ceremonies, a broad smile upon his face as he knew this year's celebration was special. Stepping up upon a makeshift wooden platform, the king raised his arms to gather the attention of those watching, the throngs of mer-folk bowing their heads reverently and kneeling before their king. Flanked by his victorious soldiers, he addressed his people.

"My friends, I stand here before you not as your King, but as your fellow mer-man. I too came of age in terror of the Lifegiver. We all know what horrors he wrought upon our people. The wails from the deep when he caught one of our own straying too far from the city. The horrors on his festival day when we paid tribute with our blood and lives. I stand here today to show you that he is not a deity nor a god. Today we wrench our lives from the claws of the Lifegiver. And today we prove that he is not only mortal, but that he is also flesh and bone. And just like our ancestors, his flesh and his bone can be tortured."

It was not the first time that many mer-folk had seen Kryshol this close. Some had parlayed with the beast before. Others had played dangerous games of tag when they were young, attempting to touch the creature and scurry away before catching its ire. But none could remember a time that fear had passed the face of the Lifegiver. And it was clear that fear hung on the features of the beached and restrained leviathan. Motioning for his brave tactician to step forward, King Mar wrapped his arms tight around his prized general, the brash, young tacticians work having paid off in spades.

"Our great General, Ven Mattar, deserves the honor of emasculating the beast!" The words hung in the air as the mer-man raised his lance in triumph, "The Lifegiver deserves to pay with his life givers before his end!" Kryshol's struggles grew furious, the beast crying out in terror at the proclamation.

"N-no!" He screamed, shaking his head back and forth, futilely trying to dislodge himself. "P-please! You... I... You can't!" Ven smirked, licking his lips as he stepped across the wooden platform, right up to the wriggling beast, his massive slit vulnerable for all the crowd to see. It towered over the far smaller mer-creature. The vent was easily twice his height, far taller than he could reach had a wooden ladder not been brought and steadied against the serpent's form. Climbing several rungs of the ladder, Ven reached out to place his hand upon the creature's slit, his webbed fingers sliding upon the beast's massive gentials. It was strange, the sensation of touching the Lifegiver. And yet, as he felt the supple, fishy flesh pulse against his hand, the mer-man knew that he was dealing with a mortal being. "Y-you dare touch your god?!" The words flared with anger yet fell meaningless as Ven began to squeeze the flesh firmly between his fingers.

Raising his lance, the tip glowing with a warm and radiant purple, Ven began to rub the Nova-impregnated iron against the fleshy folds, the shocked serpent beginning to tense and struggle as the gentle warmth stimulated his most intimate of areas. A second and third soldier, trusted lieutenants, added their own gentle prodding and rubbing, causing Kryshol's gills to flare at the sudden stimulation. His chest heaved with a sharp breath in just as the beast's two thick cock heads began to slip from between the lips of his slit. Barely erect, they were both easily the size of Ven's torso, and growing. The mer-man allowed his hand to press against the thick head of one cock, feeling the spongey meat as it swelled with blood. A thought passed his mind as he watched the arousal swell and engorge, wondering why an omnipotent, everlasting deity would need or even have reproductive organs. Perhaps out of desire for lust? Or perhaps he wasn't truly omnipotent, just one of many who passed down the mantle of Lifegiver.

As the throbbing shaft bounced and twitched before him, Ven gave one last pat to the heavy and supple meat bobbing tenderly before him in the air. All eyes fixed upon the beast, the serpent's jaw quivered as he watched the triumphant general grip his lance tight with both hands upon the haft. A flash of brilliant purple streaked through the air, a shrill cry screeching out as Ven pierced Kryshol's cock with all his force. The Nova-imbued head sizzled as it punched through the fleshy shaft. His aim was off a little bit, landing off-center and digging into the opposite slit in a manner that opened it wide for all the onlookers to see. Kryshol twisted and shrieked, his pincers frantically scraping across the harbor floor in a vain attempt to reach the spear lodged in his cock. It quickly became apparent why Ven had stabbed him this way. With pain wracking his body, the serpent's remaining shaft began to slowly go flaccid. But the cock that had been pierced through throbbed thick and hefty, unable to retreat into his slit.

Handed up a second lance, Ven quickly took aim at the remaining digit, hefting the spear with just as much force as the first one. Kryshol squealed, both pinioned shafts bobbing gently as he wriggled like a worm. With his prize unable to escape, Ven could take his time with the beast's genitals. He had to be careful stepping down from the ladder, the wooden frame bucking and hopping against the leviathan's writhing form. His once bellowing voice showed hints of pain, eyes watering as his drying mouth began to plead more fervently for mercy. Yet his cries quickly became unintelligible, drowned out by the murmur and press of the crowd, more reveling mer-folk pushing into the makeshift festival grounds and growing rowdier on home-grown kelp-wine and Talassan berry spirits.

Ven gathered a few of his Lieutenants to his side, offering a few commands for items to be brought forth so he could work on the Lifegiver's life givers. Most easily available was a sword, the blade forged with a flashy inlay of glowing Nova. Giving the blade a swing or two, he pointed the tip towards Kryshol's head, peering down the flat of the blade before turning back to the massive shaft before him. The cock head gently twitched as he took aim with the blade right underneath the corona, the hefty glans weighted down by its own girth. Raising the blade, Kryshol's pleas became incoherent, gibbering in horror as he watched Ven pause at the top of his swing. In an instant, the sword came down upon his vulnerable shaft. A pulse of blood spattered upon the wooden frame, the mer-man grunting as he twisted the blade to loosen it, before taking a second hard swing to finally lop clean the tip of the beast's manhood.

The leviathan heaved his chest in agony, his parched maw gaping like a fish as his proud glans was held aloft for all to see. He hardly realized the King had stepped up alongside his ensnared head, until the leader of the mer-folk began to speak, a hand rubbing slow along his serpentine body.

"Already feeling faint, are you? We wouldn't want you to miss the fun. After all, we have generations worth of torture to extract from you, oh great god of the waves."

"P-please..." Kryshol whimpered, unable to form the apologies in his throat, "Have mercy..."

"No words can make amends for your cruelty towards the Talassan people. But yours screams should suffice instead." A troupe of mer-folk warriors stepped up to the platform carrying a large-bore metal pole. The cylindrical rod was ostensibly a key for one of the many canal locks in the city. It was designed with a spring-loaded cog on one end, meant to fit securely into a gear mechanism, and a handle with which two people could turn the long shaft.

As the metal tip lined up with the headless and bleeding cock, Kryshol began to buck himself, his scaly flesh rubbing raw against the restraints. Using the tips of their spears, the soldiers pushed and prodded the bloody urethra till it opened wide enough to accept the metal tip. In a cruel mockery of the beast's body, the metal shaft plunged down his piss hole. Lubricated by blood oozing from his amputated glans, the metal rod was rotated slowly, forced down the length of his remaining erection. The progress was slow, considering each of his shafts was easily twice the size of a mer-creature. But half the fun of the process was the humiliation of the once-great god. The horror showed on Kryshol's face as he endured the disgrace, distracted every now and then by scurrying mer-folk moving about the large metal braziers that lined the Harbor.

Stoking the glowing coals, each of the round-bottomed containers were pushed together, embers flurrying on the collective updraft as steel grates were laid down overtop, creating a sort of makeshift barbecue. As the metal bar twisted deeper into Kryshol's urethra, he had plenty of time to watch as several attending mer-folk, already tipsy on spirits, began to carve the delicate and spongy cock-head. His jaw hung limp as a growing pain began to wrack his body, the tip of the metal rod edging closer and closer to his bladder with each rough twist. All the while watching inch-thick steaks being carved from his glans and laid upon the hot metal with a seething hiss.

A few taps to the rod for good measure and Ven declared it was deep enough. It would only take a press of the metal catch to turn the rod into a torture device, the metal cog springing out from inside the key. Where normally it would catch on the teeth of a gearbox deep inside some canal lock, the metal tines dug into the sensitive and squishy flesh of Kryshol's urethra. The beast's whimpering pleas turned to agony as the attending soldiers began to pull upon the metal rod, yanking with all their might as the barbed edges of the cog began to scrape, then tear, Kryshol's urethral lining out. Slowly at first, before picking up speed, the soldiers flayed the supple flesh lining his urethra out, turning it inside out like a wet sock as it clung to the metal rod.

The Lifegiver wheezed and whimpered, finding it harder and harder to draw breath as he lay beached upon the harbor floor, wracked with pain and dehydrating as the cookfires burned next to his helpless body. His cries for mercy soon became semi-coherent pleas for the release of death. Yet there would be no rest for the weary fallen god, his body occasionally prodded with sticks or spear points, pelted with rocks and detritus by young mer-folk. Ven once again climbed the ladder as his fellow soldiers untangled the tube of urethral flesh from the makeshift sounding rod. Grabbing the leviathan's attention once more, he placed the blade of his sword against the remaining cock head, allowing the suffering beast to focus his eyes upon the un-tortured shaft, before slowly slitting the blade just under the flesh at his piss hole. Kryshol grimaced in agony as the blade bit into his flesh, scoring a line from the tip of his remaining cock, down to just a few inches above the quivering lance.

With a practiced hand, Ven began to carefully peel back the skin of the beast's penis, using the blade of his sword to free any stubborn spots when his spread fingers couldn't quite release the flesh from the spongey meat. Kryshol could hardly imagine a worse torment, his gigantic body finally beginning to exhaust as he tensed against the ropes and cords holding him in place. Yet despite his gulping, single word pleas to stop, Ven continued the gruesome process. He almost looked amused at the process; his webbed fingers were weirdly visible through the translucent skin. In time, the flesh was freed from the beast, the outer skin flopping to one side like a wet cloak as Ven worked to remove the last bits that clung to the very tip of the cock head. It was no easy feat, as the entire shaft throbbed with oozing blood, making the work surface slippery and raw. But at long last, the floppy skin fell to the floor, quickly recovered and laid upon an open surface of Kryshol's serpentine body, a grotesque blanket to keep him warm as his body steadily descended into shock.

More ladders were produced, propped against the beast's body as some of the city's best butchers ascended to do their part. Knives, gleaming with Nova imbued blades, began the slow and tedious process of disassembling the massive serpent's manhood - his essence to become food to fuel the newly freed Talassan people. Thick slices of spongey cock meat were removed, carved into inch-thick steaks to be laid upon the gridiron. The headless shaft too was not spared the humiliation, the remaining cockmeat laid skin-side down on the grill and accented with sliced citrus fruit, the once proud beast watching his prized manhood cooked like seafood before his very eyes.

Yet while the festivities swelled and grew, Ven had one more task to complete. As the butchers did their job, he was carefully working out a plan to get at the Lifegiver's testicles. They were more than just symbolic of his virility; the prized jewels had to be removed so the leviathan could never spawn another of his vile kind. After a few tentative cuts to the serpent's vent, Ven found just the spot he was looking for. Plunging his blade deep into Kryshol's slit, he began to carve, removing the scaly covering with rough jerks and cuts until he rended a gaping hole in the creature's genitals. With the tip of the blade still embedded inside, Ven reached a webbed hand through the hole, fishing around like one might dig for clams upon the beach at low tide. It must have felt strange to Kryshol; unfamiliar with the serpent's anatomy, the mer-man dug about within the beast's belly, groping at his squishy guts until he found what he was looking for.

Massive. They could only be described as massive, two globes of hard and fibrous material, each the size of a small boulder. Thankfully, they were lighter than stone, easily manipulated by hand as Ven tried to support the fleshy jewels. Angling the tip of his blade, so as not to cause any accidental damage, the general carefully freed one of the testicles from inside the beast's gut. Cradling the meaty nut in one hand, the sliced tube dribbling liquidy sperm down onto the floor, he couldn't help but feel a rush come over his body, the lineage of a living god cradled within his hands. Yet before he could think any longer on the fate of a tyrannical beast, one of his lieutenants reached up to take the testicle, delivering it immediately to King Mar.

Kneeling as he presented the gift to his liege, the king glanced up to watch Ven hard at work again, finishing off the last of the leviathan's genitals. Accepting the offering, he turned to the crowd and held aloft the flower of The Lifegiver's body.

"Dear people of Talassa!" He had to shout to be heard above the raucous din of the festivities. "The Lifegiver shall give life no more! The beast is sterile!" Kryshol had clung to consciousness just long enough to hear the collective rejoicing cry from the onlooking crowd, before falling into the blissful release of unconsciousness and shock at long last. That is, until he began to choke. Coughing fitfully, the beast sluggishly opened his eyes as a burning bundle of herbs was shoved under his nostrils, held aloft by a long stick. Snorting in the noxious fumes only caused the serpent to gag and retch, his body quivering after having been asleep for an unknown amount of time. Lazily, his eyes turned to see Ven, standing proud with his arms still covered in guts and goo.

"There he is... Welcome back to the world, oh great Lifegiver," Ven sneered, offering a wave to focus the leviathan's attention. "You passed out on us. But I wouldn't want you to miss the next course..." The metal grates were strewn with hundreds of thin strips of meat, the scent pungent and aromatic as the flesh sizzled and hissed. It almost smelled manly, musky and perhaps even lewd... and then he caught it, the remnants of one of his testicles being shaved into thin strips, enough so each of the Talassan people could partake of the Lifegiver's essence. "It is only fair we should have communion with our deity, as we take control of our destiny."

The body of Kryshol fed the people of Talassa for over two years, the butchering and preserving process taking the better part of the next week to accomplish. For months, the chefs of the city reveled in finding new and unique ways to serve the beast. It seemed as if none could ever forget the defeat of Kryshol, the Lifegiver. Yet soon, the old legends passed into obscurity, usurped by great tales of General Ven Mattar and King Tung Mar II. As the Talassan people prospered, expanding out into the great ocean without the fear of death, even those legends began to fade as each generation spun their own tales of bravery and glory.

As a new age dawned, and the powers of Nova-tech spurred on innovation and progress, Talassa became a bustling hub for mer-kind. Submersible vehicles trundled along the ocean bed, following paved roadways which emerged right onto land-based highways. One such artery passed by a sleepy public park in the heart of the city. On the marshy and swampy ground, young mer-folk tottered their first steps on land, while older younglings played tag amidst the ash and swamp oak trees.

One of the faster younglings managed to break away from his friends, the little one's webbed feet plapping across the soggy ground until he came to a stop next to an archway. Leaning upon the massive structure to catch his breath, the little mer-man found himself looking over the time-worn and rough material, eyeing up spray-painted graffiti and carved lettering dug into the arch. A moment later his friends had caught up, forcing the critter to make a break for it, darting away before he could be caught. He could never imagine that the ancient structure, weathered with decades of age, was made from two of Kryshol's rib bones, planted deep into the public park to commemorate the defeat of a deity long since forgotten.

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