[Fan Fiction] Godsknife - Rhymes in the Halls of Bael

This is another "Electric" tale (Electric is my HoWA Raider) - this time, not based on actual game play. Enjoy! :-)
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Ancient are the Gods of Wraeclast. Far older than men, or dwarves or elves.

And this, perhaps, explains their vagaries.

For example, why do the Gods so value rhyme?

A novel rhyme curries immediate favor with the Gods - as anyone knows. But why?

Perhaps it is because over eons and eons of existence, life has become stale. Meaningless. Boring.

But a novel rhyme?

What could be more exciting?

Lyrical juxtaposition of words, which, when combined, form a new and pleasant whole.

And having heard one verse... what is the next?

Yes! This must be the reason for the Law of Rhymes.
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The Law of Rhymes

Death by Combat is Sublime
And Gruesome Death is Most Divine

But Kill Not the Orator
Silence Not the Rhyme

The Gods Shall Judge a Poet's Time
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Whatever had possessed her to wander into the Halls of Bael, thought Electric.

A most dreadful place.

Damp, dimly lit by torchlight and stretching out seemingly forever.

Oh yes! Treasure!

Treasure!, thought Electric. That's what her Nanny claimed. Treasure beyond telling lies within the Halls of Bael.

And with that cheerful thought, Electric trod on.
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And on...

And on...

Hours passed. Eventually Electric became bored. To pass the time, Electric thought of rhymes her Nanny used to tell.

"Fee Fi Fo Fum," said Electric, under her breath.

"I SMELL THE BLOOD..." thundered back from somewhere deeper within the Halls.

Too late, Electric recalled what else her Nanny said about the Halls.

"The Halls are guarded by the evil giant Bael who thankfully sleeps after ages of inaction. But should you find yourself within the Halls, under no circumstance utter a rhyme. For this invokes the Law of Rhymes, which must surely wake the giant." - belatedly, this is what Electric recalled her Nanny saying.
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Shivering at the thought of meeting Bael, but utterly lost within the Halls and unsure where she had been, Electric wandered further on.

Perhaps it was magic - or perhaps it was sheer chance - but every turn Electric took, brought her deeper and deeper into the Halls. And closer and closer to Bael.
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After what seemed to be nearly a day of travel, Electric saw light in the distance. The dimly lit Halls were more brightly revealed just up ahead!

And so, Electric traveled towards the light.
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In the light stood a hulking giant. A soft purple glow encircled the brute - the glow was evidence of a divine gift - an invulnerability shield.
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"... OF AN ENGLISHMAN!," thundered the giant, laughing all the while; "Prepare for your death, little girl!"

"Wait... wait!," stammered Electric.

Electric was so scared she could hardly think. Rhyme... what was it about rhyme?

"Twinkle," mumbled Electric.

"What's this?," shouted Bael?"

"Twinkle," said Electric once more, perhaps motivated by the torches, flickering in their sconces, along the walls of the Hall.

Bael moved in for the kill.

"Twinkle, twinkle," said Electric once more.

Bael readied a blow from his mighty axe, sure to cleave Electric's head clean off. But as he prepared to swing, he found, to his puzzlement, that he was unable to do so.
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"TWINKLE," said the God of Light. "TWINKLE?"
"YES," replied the God of Battle. "TWINKLE!"
"BUT I'VE HEARD THIS ONE," said the God of Honor. "LET HER DIE. THIS IS MOST UNORIGINAL."
"SUSH!," said the divine assemblage in unison. "LET THE GIRL SPEAK!"
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Bael, constrained by the Law of Rhymes, simply looked at Electric and said, "Twinkle, twinkle?"

"Yes," continued Electric, sensing at once that the the Law was in play. But how should she continue? How could she please the Gods?

Bael grinned malevolently. He could sense the restraining force lessening. Soon this man-flesh would be dead!

On the point of panic, Electric looked desperately around for inspiration. Nervously she fumbled with her knives.

"Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Knife!," squeaked Electric.

Bael laughed uproariously. "Twinkle, twinkle, little knife?," howled Bael. That's ridiculous!"
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The God of Honor was intrigued. "I'VE NOT HEARD THIS ONE, AFTER ALL!," said the God. "LET THE GIRL PROCEED!"
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Once again, Bael prepared a killing blow. And yet, as before, Bael's axe was restrained.

"Yes!," cried Electric, gaining confidence.

"Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Knife."
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"Observe!," continued Electric.

And with this, Electric threw her knife high into the air.

It traversed end over end as it traveled ever higher, at first catching the surrounding torchlight, and then not. Twinkling in its ascent.

"Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Knife.
Distract Bael.
Then Take His Life!"
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"YES!," cried the Gods in unison. "HOW CLEVER!," they shouted.

And with this, the Gods withdrew their favor from Bael.
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Bael tracked the knife with a puzzled look on his face. Meanwhile, the pale glow which had surrounded and protected Bael for ages dimmed and then disappeared entirely.

The knife, thrown high into the air ascended to zenith; and then tumbled back down, gathering speed on its descent, glittering all the while in the torchlight, passing in and out of view.

Was it misfortune that Bael, staring upwards, striving to spot the knife, did in fact, see the knife just before it came to rest? Or was it the work of the Gods?

For the knife appeared once more to Bael seconds before it plunged into his right eye and from there, deep into his brain.

Death quickly overtook Bael. Death by combat. A death... most gruesome. A death... most divine.
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The Godsknife

Twinkle, Twinkle Little Knife.
Distract Bael
Then Take His Life!
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And so the scared little girl did prevail over the mighty Bael.
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Or was the girl, in fact, scared at all?

In the dim torchlight, Electric could just barely be seen; a cunning grin began to grow on her face.

And from her pockets she withdrew... a leather case she used to carry her knives.

Carefully, Electric carved another notch into the case.