But what did Oceanos and his kin have? What did he, the Lord of Waters, have for a mascot? What great beast represented him and all the gods who served him?
Nothing.
He had nothing.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had sharks, and they were nice enough. He particularly loved his pet shark, Mangler, who was the representative of all his kind and who had fought at his side for many years. He also happened to be the size of a leviathan.
Unfortunately, sharks had developed something of a bad reputation, what with all the eating of people and the general malevolence they were usually involved in. Sure, he didn’t mind. He thought it was funny. But mortals did mind – and sharks weren’t nearly as popular as dragons. If something was going to go around eating people and committing various acts of villainy, then it needed to do so spectacularly. Sharks simply dragged people underwater, bit them in half, and then called it a day. It was efficient, sure, but it was hardly impressive. Dragons were winged death machines that breathed fire. They could put on a show that even their victims could appreciate before they were devoured. People often overlooked the horror dragons inspired to focus on their awesomeness.
How many mortal children pretended to be sharks? Hardly any. But there wasn’t a mortal child alive who hadn’t imagined being a dragon at least once.
There were also krakens. Although they technically belonged to him since they lived in the depths of the ocean, Annihilation had somehow managed to get them as his backup mascot after defeating Oceanos in a wager that the Lord of Waters had been certain he would win. Bureaucracy, bless her ruthlessly law-abiding heart, had tried to warn him of his folly, but his pride had gotten the better of him. Only later had he learned that Annihilation, that utter rapscallion, had been aided by Mischief. There were precious few who could win against Mischief in a game of chance, no matter how much the odds favoured them. Even Fate could sometimes be reluctant to take on Mischief and her siblings, so skilled were they in tilting the odds in their favour, to say nothing of how good they were at cheating without getting caught. Indeed, the incredibly good luck enjoyed by Mayhem, Mischief, and Rabble had led to no small number of arguments between Fate and her younger sister, Luck. He should have gotten Death to oversee the contest. The Greater God would have ensured its fairness, and there was no trick or illusion that could fool his eyes. Alas, Oceanos had not realised his error until it had been too late.
What he needed now was something else – something new – that would simply amaze mortals. Yes, he’d show the mortal world that he was amongst the greatest of the gods, truly worthy of praise, admiration, and worship, but first he needed to talk to Life. When it came to creating living things, there was no one, save the Supreme Mother and Supreme Father, who came even close to Life’s abilities, and they’d always been on good terms. After all, many of the creatures that filled the ocean were her creations, and he’d done his best to take care of all of them despite a few hiccups here and there. Mangler had been very helpful. His pet shark could be counted on to simply eat most of the troublemakers, and the ones he didn’t eat were smart enough to behave.
Going to Life was also better than going to Wisdom and Knowledge. Those two would probably try to steal his spear again before creating some kind of nightmarish mechanical monstrosity like that mechanical kraken they’d built. He shuddered. The less he thought about that thing, the better. What kind of maniac built a mechanical kraken that could fly, shoot lightning, and turn invisible?
* * *
Oceanos found Life in one of the many forests of the mortal world. As was her wont, the goddess was kneeling in the dirt, her hands pressed into the rich, dark soil. His eyes widened as he noted the dirt clinging to the dress of living flowers she wore. The grime of the mortal world could not sully the personage of a god unless they allowed it. Then again, Life had always liked to get her hands dirty when she created new life. She felt it gave her a better connection to her creations since they did not wield the same divine energies she did. Instead, they had to crawl through the dirt of the mortal world. Although he couldn’t see anything remarkable, he kept silent. He could feel her power in the air. If nothing unusual had happened yet, it was merely because it was about to happen.
“What brings you to this forest, Oceanos?” Life asked without turning or rising. No one, save the Supreme Mother or Supreme Father, could order her around, and she wasn’t about to stop what she was doing for him. “You’re quite far from your usual domain.” Her lips twitched. “You also have a starfish on your shoulder.”
Oceanos grimaced and created a sphere of seawater before putting the starfish in it. It was a little awkward to be caught with a starfish so far inland, but it was better than the time he’d accidentally brought a kraken along while visiting one of his friends amongst the gods of the desert. That had been embarrassing.
Life’s question was a fair one. The gods were mighty everywhere, but their might was even greater in their own realms or in areas associated with their powers. As the Lord of Waters, Oceanos was a formidable opponent anywhere, but he was at his best when fighting in or around large bodies of water. Of course, the Greater Gods were so powerful that the environment made almost no difference. Life and Death were perfect examples of that, but it applied equally well to the others. Even if Life was in a desert of sand and rock, the merest sliver of her power could have it teeming with creatures and plants that would fight tooth and nail for her. He had once seen her create a titan out of wood and vines that had towered hundreds of yards into the air in a matter of moments.
In a forest, surrounded by plants and animals, Life would present a daunting challenge to even another Greater God. All she had to do was speak one word, and the trees around them would uproot themselves and do their best to tear him limb from limb, which was not as ridiculous an idea as it sounded since they would be empowered by her divine might. It was thus only natural that he was a tad nervous. He and Life might be on good terms, but her temper had always been more mercurial than Death’s or Muse’s. The former was generally calm and measured, and the latter was mostly thoughtful and cheerful.
Oceanos bowed. “I humbly request your aid, Lady Life.”
Life stood up and dusted the dirt off her hands. As she straightened, a huge tree rose out of the soil. Oceanos peered at it closely. It was not like any tree he had seen before. “It is a new species,” Life explained. “For the mortal world, anyway, but it still has some growing to do. This entire forest will find safety and shelter beneath its branches, and it will strain to reach the clouds themselves. If the mortals are wise, they will learn to harness its leaves and fruits for medicine and other things.” Life chuckled and patted the trunk of the tree. “Death thinks it’s too big, but trees aren’t exactly his speciality. He can also be a stick in the mud – albeit not as much as Bureaucracy.” Life raised one hand, and a squirrel jumped out of a nearby tree and scampered up onto her shoulder. “What do you need my help for?”
Oceanos breathed a mental sigh of relief. She was in a good mood. “I need a better mascot.”
Life paused halfway through handing the squirrel on her shoulder a nut. “What?”
Oceanos tried to retain some sense of divine majesty, but his irritation got the better of him. Besides, it wasn’t like the squirrel was going to tell anyone although just to be sure, he sent the animal a small glare. What he was about to say could not be allowed to leave this forest. “I need a mightier animal to represent me and the other gods of water. Sharks are all well and good – and I love Mangler – but they aren’t the stuff of myth and legend. Other gods have dragons and griffins as their mascots.” He shivered as he remembered something horrible that he’d recently witnessed. “I don’t want to be like that poor, young goddess of the wind who got stuck with some evil raccoon for the rest of eternity. I would like it if you could create something suitably incredible to serve as a mascot for a god of my standing.”
Life’s shoulders shook, and then she burst int
o raucous laughter. The squirrel on her shoulder slipped off, but she caught the critter and placed him gently onto her shoulder once she’d managed to calm herself. But she almost started laughing again when she saw the deadpan expression on his face. “Wait – you’re serious? This isn’t a joke? You aren’t pulling a prank with Mayhem, Mischief, or Rabble?”
“I am completely serious.” His expression grew supremely grave. “I need a better mascot, and only you can help me.”
“I… I see.” Life took a deep breath and tried to regain some semblance of calm. She didn’t do very well. “In that case, we should retire to my realm. If we are going to make something new, we should take the appropriate precautions.” She paused. “I have also been told in no uncertain terms by the Supreme Mother and Supreme Father to avoid another honey badger incident.”
Life had originally made honey badgers – some of the most vicious, bloodthirsty, and ferocious animals in the world – roughly the same size as elephants because she thought they would be cuddlier that way. It had gone less than well – Death had been extraordinarily busy collecting souls from the mortal world. Oops. Since then, she’d taken to making new life forms in her realm first and only bringing them over to the mortal world after thorough testing and study. Her mobra – which was rapidly earning a reputation as either a wonderful bodyguard/pet or an assassin – was a prime example of the benefits of her new approach. In the past, she would most likely have made it at least as big as a rhinoceros.
“Ah, yes. That might be for the best.” Life got a free pass for almost any mistake since she was a Greater God. He would not be so lucky. If his new mascot went on an unsanctioned murderous rampage through the mortal world, he would most likely have to contend with at least Bureaucracy and Fate, to say nothing of what would happen if he drew the ire of the Supreme Mother and Supreme Father.
Life’s realm was a thriving world filled with countless forms of life, many of which did not exist anywhere else. Oceanos politely stepped over the squirrel that had accompanied them – Life would return it to its tree later – and looked around. There was a young god standing there. Like Life, his eyes were limitless pools of indescribable colour, and his skin shifted restlessly from the colour of cool, damp earth to the colour of newly grown leaves.
“Oceanos, meet my son, Young Life.”
“Young Life? Ah, of course.” Oceanos had already met Young Death. The young goddess had been only too eager to show off her new pony – which was actually a Nightmare – when she and her father had visited. Death had come to talk about business. Apparently, sharks had gotten a little too overenthusiastic about eating mortals. Young Death’s Nightmare had been a remarkable creature with an impressively menacing aura. Admittedly, it wasn’t really a pony, but he felt that anyone who could earn the loyalty of a Nightmare had the right to call it whatever they wanted although he did think that Shadow Blaze was a much better name than Twinkles. “Greetings, Young Life. I am Oceanos, the Lord of Waters.”
“Greetings, Lord Oceanos,” Young Life replied. The older god smiled. It was nice to see that Young Life had good manners despite the fact he would one day grow far more powerful than Oceanos. “Mother… are you and Lord Oceanos here on business?”
“Yes, my son.” Life reached over and ruffled her son’s hair. “I will be making something for him. It would be best for you to accompany us. You still have much to learn, and this will be a good opportunity for you to watch me work with another god.” Life gestured at their surroundings. “However, I don’t think the forest is the best place for this. Can I assume that a watery environment would be best for your new mascot, Oceanos?”
“Yes.”
They swiftly made their way to a sandy beach that seemed to go on forever. It was teeming with life, and Oceanos was careful not to step on any of the crabs or other creatures that roamed the sand. Those creatures all moved a polite distance away as the sand rose up to form chairs right where the waves brushed against the shore. Oceanos acknowledged Life’s courtesy with a grateful nod. He already felt more at home with his feet in the water.
“So,” Life began. “Tell me what you’re looking for in a mascot. Don’t leave anything out. Give me as much detail as possible.”
“I shall do my best.” Oceanos took a deep breath. He needed to remain calm and be as rational about this as he could, but this was such a wonderful opportunity. Life was going to make something according to his specifications. Who knew how incredible her creation would be? “I want something as ferocious and deadly as a shark, but it needs to be as amazing and majestic as a dragon. Swimming isn’t enough either. It has to be able to fly – mortals like things that can fly. I’d also like it if it had the ability to shoot acid, and it should have some kind of sword-like appendage or horn. And tentacles – it has to have some of those. It also needs to be big. People should marvel at its size and power.”
And that was merely the beginning. As Life and her son watched and listened – the latter with growing incredulity – Oceanos spent the next hour ranting and raving about what he wanted his new mascot to be.
“I see.” Life nodded sagely, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as Oceanos finally stopped talking. She waved one hand and created an image in the air beside her. “How about something like this?”
“You can make that?” Oceanos asked. Life nodded. Young Life looked distinctly worried. “It’s absolutely perfect!”
* * *
The high priest of the Temple of Waters in the city of Kathra was the highest-ranking cleric in the Kathran Empire. His city stood at the heart of a thriving empire that prided itself on its naval power and extensive trading links. The empire’s people had always loved the sea, and they had always sought to win and retain the favour of Oceanos, the Lord of Waters. As such, when Oceanos had announced that he had a message to deliver, the high priest and the rest of the clergy – indeed even the imperial family, nobles, and commoners – had hastened to the shores near the empire’s grandest temple to hear it.
Things did not go as he expected.
At the appointed hour, the waters of the harbour began to churn. Something huge, perhaps three hundred feet long, ripped out of the sea and flew over the harbour. It was a beast unlike anything he had ever seen. It had the general shape of a shark, yet it also carried the mighty wings of a dragon and the talons of a griffin. Atop its head was a vast, jagged spike, not unlike the ‘sword’ found on a swordfish. Tentacles similar to those of a kraken rippled along its body, and acid dripped from its jaws. His eyes widened. This could be no normal creature. It had to have been created by the gods themselves. Was it here to punish them? Had they offended Oceanos somehow?
He fell to his knees. That had to be it. This creature could only be an instrument of the mighty god’s vengeance. But what had they done to offend him? What possible offence could they have committed to earn a smiting like this? As the beast circled overhead and then dove toward the shore, he could only press his forehead to the ground and babble prayers to Oceanos and all the gods to take only him and spare the empire and its people. Clearly, he had failed in his duties as high priest, but there was no reason to punish others for his failings. Let him bear the weight of his sins alone.
His prayers were answered.
Amidst the crashing of a vast wave against the shore, Oceanos himself appeared. The god’s hair – green and blue like seaweed and water – billowed in the stiff, sea breeze, and the beast glided down to land at his side. He put one hand upon it and spoke.
“Behold, mortals!” Oceanos bellowed. “My new mascot!”
The high priest fainted.
Babysitter
Zephyra opened and closed her mouth several times as she tried to wrap her mind around what had just happened. How exactly was this supposed to work? What was she supposed to say? Was she even allowed to speak first without being spoken to? Finally, her raccoon – that evil, kleptomaniacal, little creature – took matters into his own paws by hopping off her shoulder and
landing on the much smaller shoulder of the very young goddess in front of her. With what was most likely the raccoon equivalent of a cheerful grin on his face, he proudly showed Young Death the apple that he’d twice stolen from Zephyra.
“Is this your apple?” Young Death asked as she studied the fruit intently and gave the raccoon a gentle smile. “It’s very shiny, isn’t it?” The raccoon nodded eagerly and waved his paws about. Zephyra happened to agree that the apple was very shiny – it was a perfect specimen, which only made his theft of it more galling – but she didn’t say anything. She was still too busy trying to gather her thoughts. “Do you like apples?”
As Young Death and the raccoon continued to chat about the apple, Zephyra took a deep, deep breath and did her best to calm down. Life was Young Death’s mother, so it was entirely possible that she could understand everything the raccoon was saying, even without drawing on divine energy to translate. Zephyra frowned and shook her head. What was she doing? She couldn’t afford to let her mind wander. She needed to focus.
But how had it come to this? Oh, wait. She knew how. Her beloved father had decided that throwing her headfirst into the jaws of the proverbial dragon was a good idea. Apparently, Death wanted his daughter to spend more time around other gods closer to her in age. It was all well and good for her to master her powers and carry out her duties, but he didn’t want her to live a life of horrible solitude and misery. Admittedly, there weren’t many gods as young as Young Death, but Zephyra wasn’t that much older, at least, not as gods went. Her father had suggested her to Death, and the Greater God had appeared a few minutes ago while she’d been doing some work in the mortal world. He’d given her a few words of encouragement, patted her raccoon on the back, and then foisted his daughter off on her before vanishing through one of his doors. Zephyra was now stuck babysitting Young Death for the day.
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