In the end, Dawn is the person who you think most needs a friendly face. While she was no more looking forward to death than any other sane person, you know she had taken consolation from the fact that her death would be for the glory and empowerment of a great deity like Tal-Roshath. You make your way into the great audience hall reasonably quietly. The hall is built to a much more-than-human scale. It wasn't just meant for the half-again size of an angel, either. It was meant for the huge stature of a full god, or even the visitation of other enormous creatures, such as a great dragon. Once provision was made for that, then there still needed to be space for worshipers and penitents to fill the room, often wheeling and dealing with each other.
Now, the vast chamber is empty. The only features remaining are the dais bearing Tal-Roshath's plain, huge throne and the much more elaborate carpet with tales of the god's history and deeds worked into its fibers that extends from under the throne all the way down the steps to define how close one might approach in audience.
Dawn sits on this carpet, but it's a cross-legged, thoughtful posture, or a meditative one, not a prayerful one. Dawn doesn't say anything, but she does shift slightly, to give you space. It's a silent acknowledgment of your presence. You take the hint, and take a seat next to her. She's silent for a good minute or two longer, still thinking.
It's almost a surprise, then, when she opens her big brown eyes and locks them on yours. "Azer," she says, by way of greeting. If it wasn't obvious before, that tells you just how serious she's feeling. You're not "boss". "We have a problem, you know," she says, almost conversationally.
You tilt your head in silent question, encouraging her to go on. You can think of several problems, many of them quite major. You're not sure which one she has in mind. "It's the gods," she explains. "We don't have any, not any more."
While that is an issue, it's not the first one that came to mind for you. She gives you a wan smile, clearly sensing your doubt. "We won't be without gods forever, or even for long, unless whatever killed them last week happens again. I hope we figure out what happened with that, but since it did happen only once in all of recorded history, I'm not sure it's going to strike twice. And if it doesn't..."
"I'm not sure I follow," you say.
"Well, I'm going to lead you through it. Up until this event, who ruled the Shallow Ocean?"
"Shin-Quela, Goddess of Rulership and Authority," you say, almost by reflex. "Her half-mortal children are the emperor and imperial family, whom all mortals owe their devotion."
"Right. They didn't always have dictatorial command, especially over more distant lands, which is why you'd have rebel princedoms and various governors or insurgents or whatever else fighting their wars with each other. But, whoever would win, they all knew they owed at least nominal fealty to the emperor and the queen of the gods. Same with any new deities; they had to respect the existing pantheon. Now, Shin-Quela and her bloodline are supposed to all be among the dead, right?"
"That's what they say, yes."
"So how do we get more gods?"
You shake your head. This is all basic questions, and you're still not sure where she's leading you. "Spirits generate spontaneously from areas of high ambient magic, where they grow an intelligence and body, then the spirit grows in power from having its area of authority expanded and empowered. Sacrifices, rituals, prayer. Or else some rare amazing mortal gets the right spark and achieves a divine apotheosis. This isn't new. Where are you going with this?"
Dawn purses her lips and looks disappointed. "You just described an enormous calamity, and you didn't notice. The reason we've had gods who shepherd and guide mortals is because, with the existing system, it's the best way to grow strong. When we have a wanna-be dark god show up, oppressing people and demanding large-scale blood sacrifice, instead of a small and accepted blood sacrifice like we were earmarked for, some group of heroes would step up and stop them, and the other gods, happy with their place in the current system, would support that. A nascent god ambushed by a large group of mighty heroes wielding magical weapons and enlightened martial traditions would be defeated... or, if they still weren't enough, other gods would do the deed. Now we have no gods and no great heroes. I'm not even sure we have any legendary magical weapons left. If an ambitious spirit forms and demands ruinous sacrifices, or extends its protection from such a spirit at a cost only just less than that... what choice will people have but to take it? And then we get a new pantheon of vile gods who will use us as power sources and little more."
You don't even try to prevent your look of horror. Dawn's right, you realize. It's not a sure thing that it will play out that way, but it's not unreasonable to imagine. "So, we need a good new pantheon."
Dawn nods as she stands up, crossing to the very slightly dusty throne. "More specifically, I think we need an heir, someone to take the place of Shin-Quela, the emperor, Tal-Roshath, and all the rest. They weren't always good, but with their authority we saw... stability. Opportunity, at least for most. We need a new order to enforce good behavior on... well, everyone. Otherwise, whoever ends up with a bit of power gets to define what they do. Some two-bit hero could launch the sort of war of conquest, complete with atrocities, that we haven't seen in the modern age." Dawn hefts herself up into the seat. It almost requires a pull-up, and she looks humorously child-like sitting on the seat cushion, stretching her arms out to just barely rest her palms on the armrests that flank her. "I don't care if it's a good god, not really. I don't care if it's me or you or anyone, as long as it's someone who will enforce proper behavior. Otherwise, we're going to see a new age of bloodshed and horror."
She smiles at you. This smile is actually a bit more warm and human. "Oh, don't go thinking I'm going to declare myself the new queen of heaven tomorrow or anything. But I won't be happy just going along and trusting the world will sort itself out. I think I need to take another look at one of the five paths of magic or some enlightened martial traditions. Maybe something will work with me this time. We really do need a new banner to hold civilization together, and that banner will need enforcers." Dawn stares out across the empty chamber, clearly picturing what could be in here some day. "Thanks for listening, boss. I needed it. I hope we get the chance to do something. This world might be bigger than us, but now there's a lot less big things in it."
"You should get some sleep, Dawn. You're tired enough you're getting maudlin on me." Dawn barks a quick laugh and jumps down from the throne.
"You're right, boss. Don't worry, I'll be good." She pats you on the shoulder and heads off to whatever room she's claimed for herself.
- -
After a heavy discussion like that, you find that you're not really up for any more discussions, either. You retire to your bedroom, which is still overcrowded by two banks of bunks, but simultaneously is now too large since your companions are elsewhere.
You throw yourself down on your bed. Moonlight streams in through the barred window. Sleep doesn't come immediately. You pull out the pendant and look at it again. "Oh, there we go. I finally got through." The words appear in your head without passing through your ears, but they seem a little more... vivacious than the last times you've heard it. This time, you know you're not about to forget what's going on or have it fall below your threshold of consciousness.
You sit up again. The figure in tattered gray sits on the opposite bunk. The bed is not disturbed or indented by its presence, giving away its illusory or incorporeal nature. You glance down at the pendant in your hand, then back at the figure, suspiciously. "Yes, that's me, my imprisoned form. You picked me up when the angel died and the outer bonds of my prison broke. I've been trying to communicate with you since then, but I had to recover enough to interact with other beings."
"Who are you?"
"You can call me... Ant. It's as good a name as any, and I don't have anything else to go by. I'm a spirit of contention and struggle that's been trapped by a multi-layered spell for... oh, I'm actually not sure. Somewhere between sixty and five hundred years. Tal-Roshath beat me down when I challenged him, then imprisoned me and gave me to one of his angels to watch over."
"You're awfully forthcoming," you say. Suspicion fills you.
The figure laughs. Now, under the gray cloak, you can see a little bit of a human-ish chin and mouth. It's sill an incredibly anonymous shape. "Why not?" Ant says, amusement evident in its tone. "I told you. I'm a spirit of struggle. I like to fight. All I exist to do is fight. Not play word games. In fact... as far as I've been able to see, you've been around gods and priests for a while, right? You know your Contract magic?"
You glare, but don't respond verbally. "Oh, never mind," Ant says, and a delicate hand slips out from under the gray tatters, presenting itself to you. Ant takes on a new, more serious tone. "I, Ant, make the following a standing element of all Contract work with Azer Howe until I explicitly and clearly state otherwise: I will always be honest and above board in all discussions, Contract related or not. No stupid 'technically true' clauses."
A new, foreign thread appears in your head. You shiver. It's not something you've experienced before, but it's something your theoretical training is clear enough on: it's a piece of Contract magic. Normally, Contract magic is used to the mutual betterment of both the spirit and the mortal. By forging a specific kind of magical structure, both parties gain. The mortal gains some powers related to the spirit they're contracting with (a war deity like Tal-Roshath often granted strength or skill at arms, or various destructive powers) and the spirit can extract whatever conditions it chooses for doing so. The downside is that the spirit can then no longer avoid hearing a sort of background whisper of the mortal's thoughts, so most with a number of Contracts are choosy about finding people whose thoughts they don't mind overhearing. The Contract magic structure is also incredibly delicate. If either party knowingly lies or fails the terms of the Contract, it instantly breaks. This is the type of magic that Zahira just lost, in fact, with Tal-Roshath's death.
What Ant has done here is to force a sort of Contract-in-waiting onto you, one that's not complete because there's no complete, finished ritual to seal it. However, if Ant doesn't live up to its side of the bargain, in any fashion, you'll have an instant confirmation of that fact as the Contract breaks.
"I thought that you'd recognize that trick. Trust me a little more after that?" The mouth grins a bit. It has pointed teeth.
"So... what do you want from me?"
"Nothing, at the moment. But you seem like the kind of man who's going to get into more fights. That's all I want. I'll fight your enemies until I die or drop, given the opportunity. I'll empower you to do the same, if you prefer. But that's all I want, for now. When sealed away like that," Ant gestures at the rock in your hands, "I slowly lose my identity. I have to rebuild it once I get some connection to the world. I don't even have a gender at the moment, for instance. I usually seem to end up the right gender for my 'master's' usual romantic preference. I'd ask which way you lean, but I really don't care." Even that would be enough. If Ant had a slight preference, the Contract would have broken and you'd know. Contract magic is absolute over the parties involved.
"However," Ant says, raising the same hand you've already seen. You still haven't seen any bit of its figure apart from the chin, mouth, and one hand; everything else is shrouded by the tattered cloak. "I think I just did come up with an offer I want to give you. A first of possibly many Contracts we can make."
The figure disappears from the bed where it had appeared. Instinctively, you look to your right. It's sitting on the bed next to you. The fact that you know it's not really there, and doesn't actually interfere with your real vision isn't much consolation as it grins. Those really are some sharp teeth. "I don't know who, I don't know why. But I think I know the 'how'. Shall I tell you how the gods and heroes died? All I want is your right arm."
A delicate finger traces from your shoulder to the tip of your middle finger, as Ant speaks in a casual, conversational tone. "Here's the deal, the actual Contract: I tell you everything I know about how, and as long as it's a substantial improvement towards your knowledge, I get your right arm. That means if we discover I'm largely wrong I lose my benefits entirely. I get ten minutes a day, here to here, time has to be consecutive. I can choose to use less. It's 'use it or lose it'; I can't build up a time bank or anything like that. I can't use your arm for self-harm or putting you in danger, but otherwise the time is mine." The gray cowl leans in unpleasantly close to your face. Those teeth. You force yourself to stand your ground. "I don't have any plans for what to do with this. It just seems fun. And if you need the knowledge more later, I can use this as a starting place and extract more concessions, because you'll know this was the basic price before you felt it was urgent."
You can think of other questions, but in the end...
[] Yes
[] No
- -
Feel free to write in questions. I'm sure you'll have some, and I'll give you as quick of answers as possible in the thread. I'll include any notable questions in the next actual update, as part of the narrative. Obviously you should feel free to change an early vote if the Q&A changes your mind.
...You all picked a pretty interesting pairing of who to talk to. I had all five scenes sketched out before last update, so if the two scenes fit together well, that wasn't my choice, that's yours.
