As Fikre once again sits by the lake looking into his reflection, he plans what he should do next. Ancalia is completely destroyed, and whatever destroyed it created those weird shambling things... As he thinks, he is interrupted by the sound of voices coming from the nearby forest. Oh? People? A significant number of armored people on horseback emerge from the trees, all donning the flag of the Atheocracy of Lom. Fikre recalls his geography classes once again. The Atheocracy of Lom lies directly West of Ancalia. They detest the worship of any god, and make it a point to publicly execute any religious people found in their country. I suppose that now that gods have returned, they actually have a reason to send units into other countries.
Their horses whinny and refuse to move once they see Fikre's massive form in the field.
"What in the name of Reason is that!?" One man clad in armor shouts.
"Calm yourself, fool! You will draw the creature's ire." Says another man.
"You don't need to worry about me," says Fikre. "You may go along."
Everyone stands in shock for a moment. "Did it just... talk?" Asks one of the men. The man who warned against speaking too loudly steps up.
"My name is Upright Servant. I represent the Atheocracy of Lom. I presume you are the lizard-god the survivors of Ancalia won't stop talking about?" He says.
"Um... no?" Says Fikre. Shit. If they find out I'm a god...
"Liar!" Shouts Upright. Shit. That didn't work at all! "No other creature like you has ever existed. You must be one of those self-proclaimed 'gods'! You are disgusting, and you spit in the face of True Reason!"
"I don't want any trouble," Fikre says. "Please just leave me alone. I'm trying to think." Upright looks offended at this comment.
"Guards, subdue him! Bring him back to Atheocrat Truth alive so we can publicly execute him!" Upright shouts. His men draw their swords and charge towards Fikre. With one swing of his claw, Fikre dismounts a large chunk of the riders. The remaining ones seem undeterred, however, so Fikre amps it up.
"Gift of Underworld: Suffocating Terror!" Fikre shouts. A dark aura is produced around Fikre, and those warriors caught in it become too terrified to move. With the entirety of the party now subdued, Fikre walks over to Upright Servant. Upright looks him in the eyes.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
"I'm not afraid of you, filth!" He shouts. He draws a sword from his hip.
"Gift of Draconic Lineage: Whispers of the Wyrm!" Fikre's eyes pulse as Upright's arms go limp and drop to his sides and his face loses all tension. "Go back to whoever sent you and tell them to never bother me again. Next time, I will not be so kind as to send a messenger back," says Fikre.
"Yes, master," mumbles Upright, now magically charmed by Fikre's gaze. That worked the charm. All of the remaining warriors mount their horses and flee in terror.
As Fikre turns around to return to where he was laying, he notices a small group of chained prisoners in ragged clothing were left behind by the soldiers. Oh? As he approaches them, they cower in terror of him. He precisely cuts the chain keeping them bound to each other and turns once again to return to his planning.
"Wait!" Shouts one of the prisoners. Fikre turns his head around. "Why did you free us?" She asks.
"Why wouldn't I?" Fikre says. "Where are you from?"
"We are Ancalian," she says. So there were survivors. "The Atheocracts captured us as we were escaping the collapsing capital. They were talking about pillaging its remains and bringing us back as slaves."
"I see," says Fikre. "I, too, am Ancalian." The prisoners look at each other.
"Are you... that massive creature that was spotted just before the city was destroyed?" A man asks.
"I'm willing to wager I am," Fikre replies. He turns back once again to return to the lakeside, but is interrupted yet again.
"Wait!" The woman says. "We have nowhere to go." She's right. If my plans were to help the survivors of Ancalia, I could start here. Fikre leads them to the cliff face.
"Gift of Underworld: Cavernwright!" He shouts. The wall separating the cave from the outside recedes into the earth. "It's not much, but if it helps, you can stay here." The prisoners are tentative to room with a gargantuan reptilian creature of incredible power, but not having any other choice, decide to accept Fikre's offer. He uses his Cavernwright ability to create a separate room in the cave where they can sleep.
Fikre, satisfied with his accomplishments for the day, seals off the cave from the outside. Wait, I should probably create a breathing hole. The Word of Underworld allows me to persist indefinitely without air, food, or water, but they definitely need air. Fikre pokes a small hole in the cave wall to the outside with his claw, and, satisfied with his work for the day, lays his head down and falls asleep.
[WEEK 1: BIRTH OF NEW ANCALIA]
----------------------------------------
The Lich looks out the window of his tower and sees the progress the clay soldiers are making on building the walls and housing for his new followers. The clay soldiers are very efficient workers. Normal theurges don't have the vitality to raise such large armies. However, this undead body gives me an unending supply of endurance. Soon I will raise a greater force than the world has ever seen! For now, however, I must deter any potential raiders from the new home of my worshippers.
"Ahazath C' Yogagl!" He shouts as he makes a large circle motion with his hands. The once-temperate climate of the area surrounding The Lich's palace turns into a freezing blizzard for fifty miles, but sparing the inhabitants of the wall and keeping them warm. Now nobody will dare approach the palace, lest they die to the cold on the journey. The power of theurgy may not be as strong as the Words of Creation, but they are far more flexible. Tomorrow, I begin phase one of my plan.