> “What the fuck?!”
> -Everyone still left in Blood Falls
It had now been a month since the mad moon rose up from her prison and life in Blood Falls hasn’t gotten any better. It hasn’t gotten any worse either, but that’s besides the point.
She took on the name Magnificent and carved up Blood Falls into four districts, of which one she had full control over, two she left the controlling of to regents and deputies, and the fourth one being an active combat zone where anything goes. The cordon surrounding the region also prevented anyone from coming in and leaving. The whole place was now effectively, it’s own little slice of hell.
Reaction to this reality were … mixed to say the least.
“Trade has been surprisingly good once ‘er Magnificentness took over most of the waterways and whatnot in Blood Falls. She never asks for taxes, just allegiances and fealties and whatnot, and this sick brand I got on my butt. Want to see it? No? Well, you can get one too if you meet up with one of her priests now instead of asking from the big lady herself. She’s too busy fighting the Godhome alone, if you can believe it, and it’s still a stalemate. I mean, I’d be pissed as hell too, but I don’t think I got it in me to lay the smackdown like she does.”
The craft the speaker rode on resembled a ship if it was alive, with sails unfurled from spinal protrusions and eight pairs of webbed feet on both sides of the beast’s belly gently guiding it along the eddies and currents of the Infinite Lake. The monster had no eyes, as can be seen from its sunken eyelids both front and back, and guided instead by whispers spoken by a man completely covered in bandages, sitting where one would usually find the helmsman. It was alive, as it needed to be fed, and also dead, for it had no heart; a necessary precaution as the wandering eyes of the Sentient Patrol could at any point fall upon them, and woe be anyone that was found guilty of enslaving intelligent life.
The speaker’s partner, a statue of all things, moved its mouth as though words would come out, but none came, to its plain disappointment. A burning wreck drifted close and the ship-beast reacted appropriately, steering clear of it and the fiery denizens that turned it into a wreck in the first place. Several dropped onto the water’s surface and walked a couple steps towards the ship-beast before stopping and turning back. The statue wondered how far down it would sink before it came to a stop.
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The endling took up the name George, after a tortoise it read about that was the last of its kind. As for his lady, she whispered her name to his ear during one of their couplings, and the mark it left still stung whenever he took a shower. It wasn’t the only change that came over George, as he was now part of the newly-formed Righteous Army conscripted from Blood Falls various walks of life. The man figured this ‘Magnificent’, as she called herself now, was his best chance at getting close enough to end the Fire’s Heir. If it meant uniforms, drills, and firefights in urban ruins, then so be it. His guns were ready for the slaughter.
For today, he was assigned to a scouting group, meant to probe the strength of an Trium Illustricate stronghold. Standing orders were to not engage unless absolutely unavoidable, and to prioritize “crucial intelligence” over anything else. Of course, what that meant was anyone’s guess, but George figured they’d be able to tell once they were out and about. For the most part, the endling kept to himself, though a small circle of people still managed to gather around the man despite his best efforts. He approached said quirky bunch with the best emulation of a stoic face one could make in short notice.
“What happened to your face?” An elven lass named Lindel jabbed at George as he took his place around the group’s fire. “You had a fight again with your lady?”
“What?” George touched his face in genuine confusion as he tried to feel whatever it was that caught Lindel’s eye. When his palm came away with splotches of red, the endling’s eyes widened as remembered what happened the night before. “This is just paint. It’s not blood.”
“I didn’t know you used warpaint.” An animated chest chimed in with a surprisingly deep and soothing voice. “Looks messy though. Need a handkerchief? I know I got one somewhere in me.”
“No, it’s fine, Chesty. I got one.” George said while pulling out the item in question. He put some water on it from his water bottle and began slowly wiping away the red paint from his face.
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"Use this instead.” A half-of-a-man named Sete tossed George a cloth that was pure white on one side and pure black on the other. “Use the dark half. Trust me, it just works.”
“What happens if I use the light half?” George asked.
“You get darker.” The other half-of-a-man named Ngah spoke, some parts of his skin visibly darker than the rest. “It takes some getting used to.”
“I think I’ll just stick to mine, thanks.” George tossed the half-and-half cloth back to its owner. “Any idea what we’re going to find out there?”
“Lasers. Most of the Logamatons went rogue from all the magic thrown around.” The animated chest—who was named Cesti—spoke up, moving unconsciously to the left to show a perfectly circular burn mark on the side of its body. “And missiles. Hopefully no mines thrown around though.”
“I hear that. Someone turned the rats and little critters into living explosives that only explode near enemies, only they got blasted before they could specify which one was the enemy. A swarm of them blew up near one of the towers and down it goes. Even worse, somehow the tiny buggers managed to reproduce with the spell already in place, so now we’re going to have exploding vermin for eternity.” George’s appetite went down a bit at the mention of rats, but he managed to keep the bile down long enough for him to take out a bowl and scoop up some warming soup from the group’s soup kettle.
“None of that is going to matter once the Fire’s Heir comes around. He’s going to fix everything up and bring the heat down on that stupid moon goddess. You’ll see.” Lindel said as she ate a spoonful of her soup. “Or he could destroy everything too and doom us all, but that’s just how it is with the gods, y’know. Nothing we can do except lie down and take it.”
“I disagree, Lindel. At the very least, when it comes to the Fire’s Heir. I can stop him, permanently.” George said, the words tinged with the embers of his revenge. “Just gotta have a clean shot at the bastard, and he’s dead.” The proclamation hung in the air for a moment before raucous laughter broke the silence, just as quickly muffled as the small group remembered where they were.
“Damn it George, didn’t take you for a comedian. But save it for when we’re back at the bar, not out in the field. Artillery strike could just about wipe us out from that little jest of yours.” Cesti spoke with mirth. George scowled upon seeing his comrades think so little of his abilities, but he then thought through what it was that he really said. He’s no one from nowhere fighting a war with strangers, though day by day that fact slowly changes. His past, stretching back further than living memory, carried with him no more trace than the air he breathed in and out.
What was left then was the future, and George thought perhaps it lay with her, the woman with gorgeous hair and stunning smile. It lay with love, if death will not take them both, and hope, which drives him on as far-fetched as it seemed. It was something to hold on to, and yet it could also be something that would snag him back, entrapping him where once nothing could stop his stride. Could it be that he had made a mistake, staying here for as long as he had, for her instead of for the dragon?
The endling couldn’t see the future, and so the answer became no.
It was time for a different kind of mistake.
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She couldn't see the mistake of relying on someone else, not when she wholeheartedly believed when the time came, she could stab them in the back without a hint of remorse in her heart. But that was Karistina’s mistake, believing herself to be above things that affected everyone else. But how could one predict that love, the emotion most tossed here and there like the air one breathes in, could be the one that undoes her in the critical moment. Had it been from the very beginning, since their eyes met, did this weakness infiltrate her, or was it only now, as she saw him recuperating in her home from yet another battle, did her heart decided all she had worked for was for naught and it would be fine, as long as it was for him.
In the chaos that was quickly becoming the new normal in Blood Falls, no one could be bothered to gather the remains of one stray godling, not when complete bodies of actual gods landed in scores upon the ground of the Retribution Fields itself. All of them would come back to the Godhome eventually, but while they were in the dirt, scrabbling to muster their strength, they were at the mercy of their subjects, and it was brutal. Divine wrath meeting mortal contempt and the resentment built-up over the ages made for a volatile mix to say the least, and one the mad moon goddess was all too eager to exploit. She promised them an end to it all, to the Godhome, to the gods, to tribute given freely to those that didn’t deserve it. It was time for the dirt to drown the sky, and build a monument for all to see; a Tower of Babel upon which the heavens could be pierced.
If she wasn’t so homicidal about it, I think some of the gods might even side with her. A new and improved Godhome, for whatever that meant, anchored to the ground where gods and their subjects can converse with one another more properly. A Temple of Eden. Karistina would have laughed out loud then and there at such a notion, but she herself worked to achieve a similar, if perverted version of such a vision. A searing heat made itself known within the depths of her heart, burning as though it would burn a hole through her, and then it was gone. A mark, a brand, an agreement made between her and ‘them’, who sought but one thing from her.
The utter destruction of Blood Falls’ Godhome. Gone. Reduced to atoms. Beyond the shadow of a doubt.
If only it could be that simple.