Skinny Bitch did his best to stop the fear from showing on his face. "Pydak has," he stuttered a little, but eventually found his backbone, "declared this building to be his sovereign domain."
"Well, I just fucking undeclared it." My temper was starting to rise.
"Staff Sergeant, I beg you, act with caution. Pydak has far-reaching hands."
I'm a fucking idiot.
"I'm going to count to ten, and I then I will start slaying." Maybe I was desperate to go home, maybe I was curious to see what I had left behind in the tower, or maybe I was just a fucking idiot who didn't have a clue what he was getting himself into.
"I told you," Skinny Bitch started.
I pulled my M4 to my shoulder, took aim at Skinny Bitches calf, and fired. I had an ACOG on my M4. It's an excellent sight with a four times magnification. I was an expert and had a bravo four identifier. For you civilians and Air Force guys, although I repeat myself, a bravo four means I was a trained sniper. I grazed him.
I've been hit by shrapnel, an IED, and a shot to the plate. Every single time I've been hit by enemy fire, it fucking hurt.
Skinny Bitch grabbed his calf, screamed, and collapsed.
His punk gang took off running.
I laughed.
"We will pay for this," Dykon said ominously.
I ignored Dykon and walked up to Skinny Bitch, my M4 still on semi.
"Can I go in now?" I asked the man on the ground with a bum leg.
He whimpered a little, and I noticed that there was a bit more blood from his leg than a graze should have left. "Yes," he said pathetically.
My sympathy tank was empty, so I cleared my mind and walked into the palace.
Let me save you the details. Nothing, not a single thing, was left in the tower. Someone had come in and cleared it out.
Chapter 4
We started the trek back to the Knight's Lance in silence, but once we crossed the metaphorical railroad tracks, Dykon was less than quiet.
"What you did was foolish."
I was already in a foul mood from the empty temple, so I wasn't exactly feeling chatty.
"There are two underworld guilds in Teletha, and we just made enemies with the largest." His voice was calm and confident, but there was an edge to it.
I wish I had never shot that dumbfuck. "And they know who you are."
"He did say my name."
He could have added a dumbass to the end of his sentence. It would have made me feel better.
"Sorry," I said meekly.
"Your apology is noted, but I still doubt you understand the gravity of the situation."
"Explain it then."
"The city will be in a terrible fight soon. There is a power vacuum that must be filled. There will, in my estimation, be three factions that will contend for power," he said ominously. "One faction must win; otherwise, we will have traded one dictator for another."
"That faction is?"
"The Church of Donker."
I rolled my eyes.
"You have an issue with Donker?"
"Not Donker. Actually, I have no idea who Donker really is or what he stands for. My issue is with theocracy. It almost never pans out."
We walked in silence, and I could tell he was contemplating my statement.
"You recommend a monarchy then?"
"Eww, hell no."
"Despotism? The strongest rules?"
"No, dude, democracy." The word didn't translate, and I suddenly realized I should have paid more attention in social studies.
"Democracy?" He actually pronounced the word pretty well.
I almost started spouting out all the patriotic knowledge and all the propaganda I had heard. He didn't need platitudes or whatever those will of the people statements were.
"Let's start easy. Everyone votes on someone to represent their interests. That person gets a say equal to the amount of people who voted for him." It sounded good in my mind, at least.
"Like a council of elders?"
"Do they get voted in?" I already knew the answer.
"No."
Voting and representation wasn't a completely foreign concept to people. It had always taken hold in small groups and companies. I was just proposing they make it bigger. Representative democracy is the natural order of all sentient beings. The opposite, dictatorship or the strongest rule, was always short-lived and chaotic.
"So no, not like a council of elders. The people pick who they like best, and then that person represents them. Pretty straightforward."
"It is not that straightforward," he said, and then added, "you have been here for one day. You do not understand how things work."
I deserved that.
"The people follow strength, not who they like the best. If they voted for whoever they liked the best, everyone would vote for their mother, or best friend," Dykon attempted to educate me.
I assumed, like an arrogant asshole, that everyone would love the concept of democracy the moment I mentioned it.
"What do you suggest?" I asked.
"You have power."
"Dude, you've known me a day. Why in the hell would you think I would be good at anything?" I'm not gonna lie; the idea of being a king sounded pretty fucking awesome. It also sounded like a lot of responsibility.
"I've never seen a person kill an Archmage, rescue a girl, and say sorry to an elf within the span of a day."
"I'm starting to think this town is full of assholes."
He laughed. "Yes, and you will soon find out how many are in the city."
We let the natural silence find its proper place after the awkward laugh. Dykon was throwing too much information at me and expecting too much from me. I would later learn this was a trait of all elves.
We returned to the bar. My eyes immediately scanned the room for Pretinia. I saw her, cleaned up, dressed in a brown dress, playing a knife toss game with one of the dwarves. She could barely heft the large dagger, let alone throw it.
She noticed as I walked in and waved frantically at me.
For obvious reasons, I walked to her.
She hugged me hard.
It felt good to be hugged by something so innocent.
It was also weird because we had known each other for like a day.
I chatted with Pretinia for twenty minutes on the ins and outs of her day. Chat is a strong word, more like; I listened to the young girl go on and on about the bathing, shopping, and eating.
"Warrior," Dykon called for me from his office.
I'm ashamed to admit that I was a little over-eager to leave the annoying affectations of my newest fan group.
I dislodged the puppy from my waist and made my way back to the office.
Dykon had a guest sitting on the bed. She was a woman of strange appearance. One ear was pointed, the other flat like a human’s. The rest of her features were normal, except she was definitely a cross between elf and man.
Dykon shut the door behind me as I entered fully.
The woman on the bed, who I suddenly realized could be a grandmother, averted her eyes from me.
"This is Martila."
I nodded to her.
"Officially, she is the Grand Bather. She washes away the sins of the unclean."
Martila remained quiet and demure.
"Unofficially?" I asked.
"I am the Suffering Eye." Her demeanor immediately changed, and I have to admit I was impressed. Her voice was confident and calm, and she even stood a little straighter.
"I uh. I have no clue what that means."
Dykon helpfully added, "The Suffering Eye."
"Say it louder and slower," I offered.
"The most wanted being in all of Teletha," Dykon attempted to explain.
"Cool cool cool cool," I responded, harnessing my inner Peralta. I know what you are thinking, Peralta stole that from Community, but since Peralta is like fifty times cooler, I, the highest-ranking soldier in Teletha, order that Peralta be known as the Die Hard Cool Guy.
They both gave me the whole what the hell are saying glance that I have learned is a result of mixing colloquialisms, slang, and a whole bunch of mistranslations.
"Brykon and Donker are brothers. Donker is the Grower," she explained.
"Phrasing," I interjected.
She didn't skip a beat, "and Brykon is the one-eyed sufferer."
I desperately searched for a joke; it was in there. All the pieces were there ready to be assembled. I couldn't find it, though.
"She is the bridge between two of the churches. She is," he paused for a moment, trying to find the words, "the most influential person in Teletha."
"OK?"
She stood up and placed a hand on my shoulder.
Suddenly she reminded me of someone! That character in Doctor Strange. The bald cultist chick who was like the head of the main good guys. She looked like her except one ear was elfish.
"We need you warrior," she said.
"I've been here for like a day," I found myself saying again. "How do you know I'm not a fucking psychotic killer who just wants to watch the world burn?" I was a little pissed, and I didn't know why.
She gave me a knowing look. "Donker and Brykon both came to visit me two nights prior. Pantodynamos himself said a great warrior would traverse the cosmos, and bring prosperity to Teletha," she said with a warm smile.
"Panto whatever say anything about peace?" I asked, chagrined.
"They did not say," she replied.
"OK, I know you guys are religious, and I know you probably think sacrificing virgins brings the rain, but just because you had some sort of drug-addled vision, doesn't mean I am what you think I am."
"Drug addled vision?" she asked, looking from me to Dykon.
Dykon shrugged.
"What do you mean?"
I shook my head, "What?"
"You said drug-addled vision. Do you receive some sort of prophecy when you consume drugs?" She was genuinely curious.
I decided bluntness was the best approach. "Look, I know you guys have your beliefs, and I respect that. Grandma was a Southern Baptist and thought dancing was of the devil, so I get it, but your visions are just that, visions. You can't possibly."
She cut me off, "I did not have visions if that is what you think."
"Huh?"
"Donker and Brykon joined me for my evening meal, as they do once every month. Typically we speak of The Dominator and how best to thwart his expansion; however, our conversation was centered around the news of your arrival." She explained it to me so matter of factly that it was practically insulting.
"Yeah, the Pharaohs said they were gods too." The backward idiots hadn't even evolved out of the paganistic bullshit phase.
"I'm not sure who those are?" Dykon said, and then added, "But Donker and Brykon are indeed gods."
I did my best not to roll my eyes. I once had a conversation with a terp who said the reason why the US supports Israel is that Jerusalem was the only place the space shuttle could leave orbit. That man had been educated at Baghdad University with a Ph.D. in physics.
"Look, wise men and con artists pretend to be more than they ever are. There are literally hundreds of cults on Earth, and at least one big religion centered on that very fact. It doesn't mean they are gods. They are just humans who are persuasive."
"You think me a fool, duped by some huckster?" Her tone was a little less than pleased.
I held my hands up defensively. "Hey, Hitler, Stalin, and Mao all convinced their nations to kill millions of people."
She closed her eyes and sighed heavily. It was the same sort of thing that Mimi used to do right before I got a tender red ass and a lecture on why I was wrong.
"This will be infinitely simpler if you meet them."
Dykon gasped. "Will they not be angered?"
"I believe they will understand."
"As you will it," Dykon said, and then bowed. Like a full-blown subjugated bow, the type you might see in an old ass samurai movie.
"Come," she commanded.
I did as I was told, more out of curiosity than any form of obedience. During the entire ten minute walk to her apartment, I mentally rehearsed how I would tear down the frauds. I then thought for half a second at my asshole thoughts. The people I was about to see were the figureheads of an entire religion, and my only desire was to shove their fake godhood into the faces of their followers. That was arrogant and a little self-righteous. I decided to be courteous instead.
We walked into her very humble apartment.
"Wait here," she ordered once again.
Dykon and I nodded as we sat on the floor next to her dining area. She didn't even have a fucking table.
"You are fortunate, warrior," Dykon broke the silence.
"Kevin, man, just Kevin." I looked around. The building was a mix of loose-fitting wooden planks filled with mud and some sort of concrete. It had hints of earthiness and shit.
"You are fortunate, Kevin," Dykon corrected himself, "The gods rarely accept visitors."
I had a witty retort about how conmen had to keep up the mystery, but I bit my tongue and just smiled.
Ten minutes passed with few words between us until finally, the front door opened.
The sight I saw was strange, to say the least. There was the weird eye suffering bath lady, but also two of the strangest creatures I had ever seen. The first had golden skin like those weird dudes from Guardians of the Galaxy Two; only it wasn't painted. He stood seven feet tall and had three eyes. Wherever he stepped, little bits of plant, moss, and other flora sprouted.
The second creature looked like a fucking robe-wearing Oompa Loompa, with one good hand and one tentacle. Willy Wonka would have hired that ugly fucker in an instant.
I looked down at his feet, but I was disappointed not to see cool special effects.
The golden dude opened his mouth, and I saw mist flow forth as he spoke. "Martila tells me the most disconcerting news."
Martila and Dykon, I noticed, were both on a single knee, heads bowed.
Oompa Loompa's voice was wretched and low like he had just been beaten within an inch of his life, "Martila tells me you doubt our divinity."
What do you say when confronted with people who look like some weird fucking mutants from X-Men?
"I mean no disrespect," I said as tactfully as possible, "But just because you are different doesn't mean you are a god."
"Wise words. I hope all humans are capable of such thought," Goldy Mouth said.
"Wise words, but understand in this instance, you are wrong," Oompa Loompa chimed in.
It's really bad to ask a god to prove that they are a god. There is really not much of an upside, one because if they aren't, they'll just get mad, and B, if they are a god, then you just asked a god to prove that they are a god. No upside, really. OK, maybe a little upside, because you get to disprove someone's faith.
Honestly, though, I was kinda leaning towards divine or at least super powerful based on Planty McGrowfoot's power of creating plants from the ground. I guess that's not exactly a superpower, but the speed at which they grew was.
"I mean, you guys seem great." It was awkward, and the Oompa Loompa was making me uneasy.
"He still doubts our divinity." Say it Don't Spray It, sprayed.
"I will provide proof," the Chocolate Factory reject said.
Brykon, who was the Oompa Loompa, if you hadn't figured out, looked skyward and opened his mouth.
Nothing happened for a good two minutes until finally, a rainbow shot through the ceiling straight down into his gut.
"Praise be, another blessing from Pantodynamos!" Goldy exclaimed.
"Was that it?" With all the things I had seen so far, rainbows shooting into mouths didn't impress me. OK, that's a lie, that was pretty damn impressive, but it still didn't make him a god.
"Kevin Holden from Opelika, Alabama, Phone Number *06-507-5305. He lost his virginity at the age of fifteen to his cousin's best friend while at a slumber party. She was only fourt
een at the time. He often dreams of that night, but unfortunately, Susan blocked him on Facebook, and wouldn't return his calls less than a week after the party."
I stared in anger and amazement at Brykon the Sufferer.
"Many suffer as you have, but we have peace in our knowledge that through suffering," Brykon paused.
"We grow," Donker finished.
"As your people say," Brykon said, "What doesn't kill you."
"Makes you stronger," Donker said.
I was a believer. Not a worshipper, but I believed. That information wasn't something someone could Google. Also, the distinct lack of internet in Teletha made searches a little problematic.
I wasn't sure how to respond, so I just said the first thing that came to my head, "That saying is fucking stupid."
They both smiled.
"OK, let's say, I believe. Now what?"
"We request," Donker started.
"That you shoot me," Brykon finished.
"Wait; what?" I looked at Dykon and Martila, who were still prostrating themselves on the floor. It was an AB conversation, and they had full-blown taken an interest in the dirt.
"Shoot me," he repeated. "Wherever you like."
"Uh, why?"
"You revere above all else, your weapon. It is a part of you. The connection between you and it is palpable. For you, your weapon is higher than any mortal." Donker smiled paternally. "Your weapon will prove ineffective against Brykon."
Brykon smiled as well, "It will be OK, but we do need to prove to you our divinity."
"You want me to shoot you?"
"We have said as much, and I do not know how to make it more clear," Donker said.
"I will be fine, Kevin," Brykon reassured me.
I looked once again for Dykon and Martila to chime in, but they just stayed interested in the floor.
We were in a small room, and I had no desire to get tinnitus, so I put some earpro in and flipped my safety to semi.
Boys and girls don't try this at home unless you are a god.
I raised my M4 to my shoulder and took aim right at Brykon's eye. Like I offset the red dot too, so I knew the round would actually hit the dude's eye.
"You sure?"
"All will be well."
"Dykon, Martila, cover your ears."
Of Gods & Grunts Page 3