by A. J. Markam
But man, what a way to go.
“He seems to have woken up!” the woman said cheerfully as she leaned over, then froze as soon as she saw Stig’s gray face. And his lack of a nose. And his generally ugly-ass features.
She stepped back as though she had opened a cabinet and found a big ol’ rat staring at her.
“Is he… all right?” she asked, obviously unnerved.
“He’s fine,” I said.
“He looks… different…”
“I dropped him a lot as a baby,” Alaria said. “It rearranged his face a little.”
The lady looked horrified, then started to scowl. “As long as we’re on the topic, I noticed you’re wearing a great deal of powder.”
Alaria scrunched up her face like What the hell?! “That’s not on the topic at all.”
The woman continued, obviously intent on continuing whatever moral lesson she was about to impart. “The goddess does not approve of makeup, you know.”
That’s what was off about the chubby blonde! I had noticed a distinct lack of makeup on the farm wives we’d seen so far. When I’d played the game before, female NPC’s always had red lips and sultry eye shadow. Even the bandits this afternoon had looked flawless – but I had never considered that digital characters might need to wear makeup.
But apparently they did, because this lady was very plain-looking and obviously disdainful of anything that might make her look better.
“Oh,” Alaria said, “this isn’t makeup.”
I froze. “Uh, honey – ”
“We were at the miller’s and I fell in the flour. I didn’t have time to bathe before we came, so here we are.”
“Oh…” the woman said, obviously bewildered. It really was the strangest story I had ever heard, so I sympathized with her.
Suddenly Stig sneezed – Achoo! – and sent up a puff of white dust from Alaria’s ample chest.
“Oh,” the fat woman said, frowning again as she stared at Alaria’s boobs. “What’s wrong with your skin?”
I looked over and saw that Stig’s sneeze had blown off a good bit of flour. The exposed skin wasn’t red, exactly, but it was unnaturally pink underneath the remaining flour, that was for sure.
“Terrible sunburn,” Alaria said, not missing a beat.
Man, she could lie. Ice wouldn’t melt in her mouth, she was so cool when she did it.
“Oh…”
“Honey, didn’t you say that you knew somebody from this area?” I said, trying desperately to change the subject.
“Yes – someone who lived here years ago. Do you know a man by the name of Jastoth?” Alaria asked.
“Why, of course!” the woman squealed, happy again. “He’s – ”
A booming voice suddenly filled the hall. “Brothers and sisters in the holy light of Chalastia, please rise.”
As the entire congregation got to their feet, a bald man with a beard strode out on stage, dressed all in white robes, with his hands lifted high.
Alaria’s eyes bugged out and her mouth dropped open.
“Well, you can see him right there!” the fat little blonde woman tittered. “Father Jastoth, High Priest of Chalastia!”
“Shit of the gods,” Alaria cursed under her breath, but not so quietly it couldn’t be heard.
The blonde woman gasped and frowned furiously.
I ignored her pearl-clutching and focused on Alaria. “Is that him?”
“Yes,” my succubus said, her voice like cold razor blades.
“Are you sure? It’s been a long time, right?”
“WAY too long,” Alaria seethed, and I knew she wasn’t talking about making his reacquaintance.
“I have to go sit now,” the scandalized blonde woman sniffed as she scurried away.
“So your former master is the preacher?” I asked, astounded.
“It would appear so.”
“Do you think he… I don’t know, converted?”
Alaria narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “He probably wants everyone to think so, but I’m not convinced. Not that I care. He could be the holiest asshole on the mountain and I’d still kill the bastard.”
The man started singing in a deep baritone, and the congregation followed along with him. It was a mournful dirge, depressing and in a minor key, talking about being pure and chaste and white as snow.
Like the virgin with her flower
Kept hidden in the tower
I beseech you, Goddess mine,
Keep me pure till end of time.
“From the sight of all the babies in here,” Alaria said drily, “somebody might want to have a second go at explaining to these people about virgins, flowers, and keeping pure.”
“Do you want to do it right now?” I whispered. “Or should we wait?”
“What, explain to them about virgins and flowers?” Alaria teased.
“You know what I mean.”
“Let’s wait. I’d like to hear what he has to say,” she said, then smiled so cruelly it sent a shiver down my spine. “Before I kill him.”
20
We sat down on the very last pew in the only space still available. After a few more dour hymns, the sermon began in earnest.
If this guy had ever been a Warlock, he must have truly had a Damascus Road-style conversion. He was a holy roller now, that was for sure. A real fire and brimstone asshole.
The funny thing was, Alaria kept up a constant whispered commentary during the sermon. Sort of like Mystery Science Theater 3000, except done by a hot chick in a depressing church.
“Brethren!” Jastoth yelled. “I know that resisting the desires of the flesh is hard – ”
“Especially when something else is hard, too,” Alaria whispered.
“But if you give in, they will lead to eternal burning!”
“Only when you pee, and then you go see an apothecary and it’s over in three to four days.”
“You shall know pain as you have never experienced it before!”
“Only if you’re into that sort of thing.”
“Know that the goddess watches over you all! She sees you in your beds and knows what you do under the cover of night – and she shall punish you for it!”
“So she’s a voyeur and a sadist,” Alaria whispered in an aha tone of voice. “This is one kinky bitch.”
At some point, a parishioner sitting in front of us turned around and scowled at Alaria. I don’t know if he heard exactly what she was saying, but he was definitely pissed that she was talking during the service.
In answer, Alaria turned Stig around to look at the churchgoer.
As soon as he saw our butt-ugly baby, the churchgoer’s eyes bugged out. He turned around without another word, pale as the underbelly of a fish.
“That was effective,” Alaria whispered in surprise, then resumed her commentary.
“The goddess is displeased!” Jastoth roared.
“Because he stuck it in the wrong hole.”
I snorted, trying to hold back my laughter.
More parishioners looked around at us and scowled, though they left us alone as soon as Alaria flashed them our ‘baby.’
“The land is fallen out of favor with the Goddess because of how evil the people have become!” Jastoth shouted. “I call upon the Olmsted family – stand up and present yourselves!”
My eyes widened in surprise.
Alaria turned to me. “Wasn’t that the name of the family you saved?”
“Yeah…”
The Olmsteds got up in front of the church, looking supremely uncomfortable. The three little kids fidgeted, and the parents held them in front of them closely as the preacher came down from his pulpit and walked over with a scowl on his face.
“Just this morning, bandits attacked this family! This was the wrath of the Goddess visited upon them in human form!”
“Blaming them for a bunch of evil bastards trying to hurt them? What an asshole,” Alaria muttered.
I couldn’t have put it better.
&
nbsp; “Even worse,” Jastoth continued, “they were saved from the Goddess’s divine discipline by a warlock and his foul imp!”
The entire congregation murmured.
Alaria glanced at me. “Oh, so you’re famous.”
“So am I,” Stig croaked from his flour-covered snout.
“Shh,” I warned him.
“The will of the Goddess was thwarted! When you are saved from dire circumstances by one who is evil, you know it is not divine intervention, but demonic interference!”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
Was this shithead actually suggesting that because I’d saved a woman from being raped, her husband from being killed, and her kids from being sold into slavery to orcs, that I was the evil one? And that they actually deserved such a horrible fate?
“How can this guy be a Priest?” I asked in amazement. “This is horrifying!”
“Religion is no guarantee of morality,” Alaria whispered.
“I think it’s just that this guy is a particularly vile asshole. How can he say these things?”
Alaria smirked. “I’ve found that the most outspoken religious nuts are usually the ones with the most skeletons in their closets.”
I thought of all the disgraced televangelists who had caroused with call girls or done crystal meth with male prostitutes, and realized she might just be right.
Up at the front of the church, the little Olmsted girl looked at her mother in confusion. “But mama – it was a nice man who saved us!”
“SILENCE! The warlock thwarted the will of the Goddess!” The priest pointed at the wife. “Woman – discipline your child!”
The wife looked at her husband fearfully. He looked miserable, but he wasn’t about to go against the word of a big-shot religious leader standing up here in front of the entire community. He nodded hesitantly, miserably.
There was no way I was going to watch a little girl get beaten, especially not at the command of a hypocritical asshole. I was figuring out exactly what I should do – fire off a Darkbolt at Jastoth? Send Stig scurrying up the aisle? – when Alaria beat me to the punch.
She spoke up loudly next to me. “Sir, sir – I have a question!”
I looked at her in confusion. What the hell was she up to?
Jastoth looked out angrily across the crowd. I don’t know if he saw her or not, but he definitely heard her. It was impossible not to.
“Who speaks?” he thundered.
“A humble servant of the Goddess,” Alaria called out. “I just have one quick question.”
“Now is not the time – ”
“But I thought that spanking was a sin,” Alaria called out.
“No!” the Priest snarled. “Spare the rod and spoil the child!”
“No,” Alaria said. “I meant spanking a woman.”
The Priest seemed taken aback. “Why would anyone spank a grown woman?”
“Well, what if they’ve been bad?”
Jastoth hesitated. “Well, if they have spoken heresy against the Goddess – ”
“No – I mean, what if they’ve been really, really bad,” Alaria said in an overwhelmingly sultry voice.
The kind of voice that meant Take me NOW, big boy.
I have to admit, I was getting a little excited just from hearing her.
Jastoth seemed to be getting a little excited, too. The front of his priestly robes below the waist rose up in a pup tent.
The entire crowd gasped – at least, half did. The other half tittered and laughter and snorted.
Jastoth reacted angrily, and held out his robes to disguise any unsightly bulges.
“Woman, you are being deliberately provocative! Show yourself to be disciplined in front of the community!”
“Oh – are you going to spank me?” Alaria asked, in a voice that was even more beguiling than before. “Have I been really, really bad?”
The Priest was getting seriously flustered now. “You have sinned, that much is – ”
Alaria stood up with baby Stig in her arms. “Will you put me over your knee?” she cooed.
“I will thrash you within an inch of your life!” the Priest raged.
“While you do it, will you get your manhood reaaallly close to my naughty bits?”
You would think that everyone was about to have a heart attack from the scream that went up from the crowd.
Alaria stepped out into the aisle and started walking slowly down the aisle, her stiletto boots going click, click, click on the wooden floorboards.
“But just tease me with the tip,” she moaned. “Wait until I’m begging for it… until I just can’t stand it anymore… until I’m writhing over your knee, until I’m pleading with you… and then just stick it ALL the way in.”
Oh my God.
I didn’t know whether to be aroused or shocked.
Apparently, neither did the rest of the crowd. They backed away from her like she was a rattlesnake – although I couldn’t help but notice that all the men were staring at her chest.
“Although,” Alaria said with that same cutting tone of voice that I recognized so well, “if you’re going to stick something in, you should probably use your pinky. From what I remember, it was way bigger than what you’ve got between your legs.”
The Priest’s eyes bugged out, but he didn’t say anything.
“What, you don’t remember me?” she asked defiantly as she walked closer to the front. “Is it the baby?”
She let go of Stig. He fell to the ground with a CLUNK.
All the churchgoers screamed.
“She really DID drop him a lot as a baby!” the fat blonde woman shrieked from the front of the room.
“Ow,” Stig croaked from the floor.
“Sorry,” Alaria said without taking her eyes off the Priest.
“S’okay,” the imp grunted, and stood up on his feet.
Women actually fainted to see the ugly grey mug and yellow eyes peering out from underneath the baby bonnet.
“What, you still don’t know who I am, Jastoth?” Alaria said. “Don’t you remember doing the Rite of Gul’gath to bind me to you?”
The entire church gasped, but Alaria kept talking faster and angrier.
“Don’t you remember the pentagram of fire you cast, or the manacles you clamped on my wrists, or the wretched, vile things you did to me that first night, and every other night afterwards while I was under your command?”
The entire crowd looked over at the Priest.
His eyes were wide. Over the last 40 seconds he had gone from crimson rage to pale, sickly panic.
“No? Still no recollection?” Alaria asked, and stopped walking. “Maybe this will jog your memory.”
Suddenly, every part of her clothing burst into flame, and the flour on her skin erupted in a fireball all around her.
Two seconds later, a red-skinned succubus stood before him, her tail lashing back and forth, her black wings fully outstretched, and a fireball rotating an inch above her outheld palm.
“How about now, sweetie?” she asked with a voice equally saccharine and acid. “I know, it must be hard to remember – you weren’t so interested in the Goddess of Chastity back in the day, were you?”
“Kill her!” the Priest yelled at his parishioners.
“It sounds like she has a problem with you, not us!” someone yelled.
“What in Azoth’s name did you do to her?” someone else shouted.
“I did nothing to her – she is a liar! She is with the evil warlock!” the Priest yelled. “Kill them both!”
“Wait!” the farmer’s wife cried out. “The warlock saved me from bandits, so how can he be evil? And if he is not evil, then why would he be with this woman – who it sounds like was attacked by you?” she said, turning to the priest.
The churchgoers began to grumble and mutter. You could see on the Priest’s face that he knew it wasn’t going well for him.
Alaria smiled with cold satisfaction. “Seems like all the people you’ve b
een oppressing aren’t under your thumb anymore, Jastoth. Just like me.”
She was about to throw the fireball when the priest suddenly did something unthinkable: he grabbed the nearest kid, one of the Olmsteds’ children, and held her up in front of him.
The entire church screamed in angry horror.
So did I, but I was afraid that Alaria didn’t give a damn – that she would have her revenge no matter what, whether there was a child in the way or not.
But I shouldn’t have underestimated her.
She gripped the fireball like it was some sort of stress toy and bared her teeth. “You son of a bitch,” she muttered, but she just started walking towards him again.
The Priest backed up hurriedly, getting up on the stage behind the pulpit.
From the fight with the bandits, I knew I could Darkfire the Priest without hurting the child – but if I attacked him, who knew what he would do to the little girl?
So instead I went another direction.
“Stig!” I yelled out. “Save the girl!”
“You got it, boss!” Stig yelled, and bolted up the aisle.
It would’ve been pretty damn awesome – except for the baby’s dressing gown he was wearing. His feet got tangled in it, and he face-planted on the church’s floorboards.
Stig immediately got up and started running again – then fell on his face again, just like Maggie Simpson. All he was missing was a pacifier and the sucking sound.
Alaria threw her unused fireball at Stig, which burned the dressing gown to cinders.
“Thanks lady!” Stig shouted, and raced up the aisle like a grotesque, naked, gray Olympic sprinter.
The entire congregation shrieked some more, and people started running for the exit.
Stig scrambled up the altar, jumped, and smacked right into the Priest’s face, his rubbery gray legs straddling Jastoth’s ears.
Then he started dry-humping the guy’s head.
I really couldn’t believe my eyes – it was like that scene in The Hangover where Mr. Chow has his naked crotch in Bradley Cooper’s face. Except this time it was a two-foot-tall gray Yoda instead of an Asian man.
And there was dry humping, which I don’t recall from The Hangover.
The Priest screamed and dropped the kid.
As soon as the little girl hit the floor, she ran over to her father, jumped into his arms, and the Olmsteds headed for the exit.