> Jelangkung jelangsat, di sini ada pesta, pesta kecil-kecilan,
> Jelangkung jelangsat, datang tak dijemput, pulang tak diantar.
> -An invitation
It was the sweetest deal a curse could ask for; free accommodations, endless entertainment, and the freedom for upward mobility at some point in the future. Of course, I had to start small, starting with that crazy bitch Aath Lazit fucking up her only son for some shit I don’t even remember anymore. But boy, was it fun to see that loser writhe on the floor and begging for his mother to stop what she was doing.
Not too long after that, just as I was getting used to the routine and making a list of future hosts, guess what little pissy-pants Micha Ostor did? He failed, miserably, even more so than usual and that pissed off his father, total muscle-for-brains Dumas Absad, to his absolute limit. Demolished the kid so much even I was starting to feel some of the beat down. Then for the cherry on top, the war god banished his own kid to the garbage dump below.
That’s when I stopped laughing. I mean, I’m a curse, I don’t give a shit about anybody, but being in a weakling body has the downside of making me equally as weak. If he croaks, I’m gone forever. I briefly thought about jumping hosts while we were still on the Godhome, but no one was touching the kid. Even the guards kept their distance, which is fair, but come on, couldn’t one of you have been a bit stupider and given little ol’ me a ride?
Down in the ‘Retribution Fields’, or whatever, things went from bad to worse in short order. In no time at all, he gets kidnapped, sold, dragged around and then sold for parts. Of course, I got pulled out as well, turned into one ominous orb of bad luck. But then I got left in the closet, just plain left out to be forgotten. Well, that pig also forgot a certain something big, mechanical, and sturdy. A Logamaton.
I like to call it Big Jim.
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The endling awoke before his mind could catch up, instinct placing his partner upon his hip. His confusion lasted a second before experience took over, his body moving to gather up all his belongings while looking around to catch sight of the coming threat. The motel was quiet for once, which was the first clue something was up.
When the endling reached the reception, the owner was nowhere to be seen. The shotgun on display behind the man was also missing, but nothing else seemed amiss. The motel was just as dirty, smelly, and broken-down as it looked yesterday. After some thought, the endling checked out and put down a couple coins on the reception. The streets were similarly deserted, but shouts and screams in the distance spoke of coming company.
The barrels were seen first, twin pillars cooling down from their recent use. Then the form of the mechanical killer were revealed in full; a four-limbed mobile platform whose lack of a head made its seeming glee of the trophies it mounted upon its spiked back all the more morbid. A paw swiped at an old man that tripped, and the sound of flesh being split open rang clearer than anything else.
“YES! YES! THIS IS THE BODY I DESERVE! RUN, VERMIN, RUN!” The mobile platform’s monotone voice boomed as it searched for its next prey, its sensors finally homing into the endling’s figure. The mobile platform’s cannons charged and let loose two lances of light, carving a line through the air and piercing through the ground, but their target had already moved. The endling fired back, shots denting the mobile platform’s armor. The two fought until they both realized they were evenly matched, to a point.
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“You’re pretty good for a meatbag.” The mobile platform spoke as it lazily scratched its claws upon the bones of a nearby store. “I don’t think I can kill you right now. How about we go our separate ways and forget this all ever happened?” The endling looked upon the devastation already wrought by the foe before him and scoffed.
“A mad dog deserves to be put down. And even a robot can feel pain, punk.” The endling threw a smoke bomb down at his feet, disappearing just as two laser beams bisected where he was. More shots connected against armor, getting much too close to the mounts that held the mobile platforms cannons. A choice needed to be made and the mobile platform went first, demolishing any and all hiding places it could find within its vicinity.
“You’re done.” The endling spoke softly as he materialized right on the mobile platform’s back, throwing an armful of grenades before dashing back and shooting each and every single one with his partner. Just before its end, however, one of the mobile platform’s cannons charged very briefly before shooting a small beam of darkness towards the endling, hitting the very edge of his cape.
Within the depths of the cape’s fabric, a curse began to bide its time.
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Her name was Kurosanti Silver. The heiress of Silver & Sons Incorporated; a titan of industry and resource extraction few in Blood Falls could afford to ignore. Most of her childhood was spent far away from the bloody cesspool that was the urban jungle, enjoying her days breathing in fresh air and homegrown food from the caretakers of her family’s farm. It was an arrangement everyone—including Kurosanti herself—agreed was the best way to raise her; humble yet dignified, with an air of noble obligation towards those she’d come to lead in the future.
That would have been her life, had certain events not come to pass. Now, she studied and practiced constantly, sharpening her mind as much as her body was being pushed to its limit. Nothing could be left to chance, with the best and brightest of science and magic money could buy being brought to bear to the front to remake Kurosanti Silver from a beautiful young girl into a goddess incarnate, fit to be wed to an heir.
Only three surefire ways existed that ensured someone from the Retribution Fields could ascend to the Godhome and joined the ranks of the Gods and Goddesses. The first way was to accumulate enough power and influence to be recognizable and respected. Kings, Emperors, Overlords, and the like often ascend using this method, only to soon return back to the Retribution Fields after a few centuries or so.
The second way is to be a unique existence unlike anything that has ever come before or will come after one’s self. No real pattern exist for those that ascend in this manner, only in that everyone agrees that the Gods and Goddesses of this category were exceedingly strange, odd, eccentric, and altogether mad in an obscene, but harmless fashion. The madness that is.
The third path and the one the Silver family was betting their fortune on was that of marriage. As infantile and useless such vows were to most Gods and Goddesses, those that do hold such bonds sacred often also holds unthinkable views such as seeing the value of those different to one’s self and putting emphasis on a person’s achievements rather than what they are and who they know.
Such Gods and Goddesses would make visits to either select a partner for themselves or for their children, to be brought up to the standards of the Godhome in due time. They’d cherish the time spent in what amounted to polishing a gem out of plain rock, and it was this sense of achievement which puts this category of Gods and Goddesses at odds with most of their peers.
Unfortunately, these deities also rarely separate, which meant the only viable route left was with such Gods and Goddesses’ children, if they have any at all. This amounted to threading a needle through a fertilized chicken egg without leaving a mark on the egg and with the thread in question made of tears while at the same time rearing said egg until it hatched.
Then again, Anagas Song specialized in the impossible.