Kronos - Kills Ouranos

Gaea patted the couch. “Come sit with me, my husband.”
Ouranos grinned and lumbered over.
As soon as he settled in, Kronos whispered from the behind the nearest boulder: “Now.”
His four brothers jumped out from their hiding places. Krios had disguised himself as a bush. Koios had dug a hole for himself and covered it with branches. Hyperion had tucked himself under the couch (it was a large couch), and Iapetus was attempting to look like a tree with his arms out for branches. For some reason, it had worked.
The four brothers grabbed Ouranos. Each one took an arm or a leg and they wrestled their dad to the ground, stretching him out spread-eagle.
Kronos emerged from the shadows. His iron scythe gleamed in the starlight. “Hello, Father.”
“What is the meaning of this?” Ouranos bellowed. “Gaea, tell them to release me!”
“HA!” Gaea rose from her couch. “You gave our children no mercy, my husband, so you deserve no mercy. Besides, who wears a loincloth to a fancy dinner? I am disgusted!”
Ouranos struggled in vain. “How dare you! I am the lord of the cosmos!”
“Not anymore.” Kronos raised the scythe.
“Beware! If you do this, uh…what was your name again?”
“KRONOS!”
“If you do this, Kronos,” said Ouranos, “I will curse you! Someday, your own children will destroy you and take your throne, just as you are doing to me!”
Kronos laughed. “Let them try.”
He brought down the scythe.
It hit Ouranos right in the…well, you know what? I can’t even say it. If you’re a guy, imagine the most painful place you could possibly be hit.
Yep. That’s the place.
Kronos chopped, and Ouranos howled in pain. It was like the most disgusting cheap-budget horror movie you can imagine. Blood was everywhere—except the blood of the gods is golden, and it’s called ichor.
Droplets of it splattered over the rocks; and the stuff was so powerful that later on, when no one was looking, creatures arose from the ichor—three hissing winged demons called the Furies, the spirits of punishment. They immediately fled into the darkness of Tartarus. Other drops of sky blood fell on fertile soil, where they eventually turned into wild but gentler creatures called nymphs and satyrs.
Most of the blood just splattered everything. Seriously, those stains were never going to come out of Kronos’s shirt.
“Well done, brothers!” Kronos grinned ear to ear, his scythe dripping gold.

***

Greek Gods, The beginning and Stuff