“There you all are,” Foy screamed annoyed. Malan waved back at her leisurely as he floated in the air, and kept pace with the other three on the ground. At times they dashed through the air from leg powered leaps, but mostly it was running.
Foy was doing the same, before the five came together in a small clearing under the thickets of snow-covered pine trees. The place devoid of souls, and the spirits from plants acted dormant. All understood the danger of the beings assembled, for even weak, they were no less divine. Even with Foy appearing completely the same as when she was alive, down to her clothing.
“I send my amends,” Malan said, softly landing. “The others didn’t favor my means of travel, nor did I have the heart to make them suffer. So, we took a slower approach.
“You mean flying?” Foy asked, giving him an intense stare. She wanted to know, badly, the desire came like a wave from her link. With a nudge of will, he sent the knowledge into her willing essence. Her eyes, which he just now noticed kept changing hue, opened wide.
A large buck tooth grin creased her face as she compressed her legs, and shot up into the air. She slowed after a few seconds, began to descend, then stopped abruptly, leaving her hovering like he had been. “Why in all the realms are you lot not doing this?” She exclaimed, waving her hands and paws about. A breath later she went sailing off at a high-speed, and weaving wildly around trees.
“Perhaps you shou-” Malan started in warning, but it was too late. Foy timed her flight wrong, and slammed into a thick branch. It sent her spinning wildly, concentration breaking, and her crashing to the floor.
“That’s why.” Bronduff answered in a bored tone, while Ryan snickered.
“I heard that Ryan.” Foy screamed back; the voice filled with mirth. A few seconds later she came surging through the thickets, and aimed at the alarmed Verm. Tackling into him, the two tangled together, and before Ryan could voice complaint, both took off into the air.
A high-pitched shriek echoed from the Verm. “Put us down!” He yelled, while clinging to Foy, the Heon laughing hysterically. “Alright,” she replied, and the two began plummeting back towards the dirt. Ryan’s screams assaulted their ears as Malan willed the two to freeze in place.
They stopped instantly a few feet from impact. Not that it stopped Ryan’s howls, since his eyes were closed, and his face smashed into Foy’s chest. After a few added seconds of stillness, his shrieks withered, while Foy shook with mirth, cackling like the old woman she truly was inside.
Ryan forced down deep breaths as he saw the theatrics from Foy were over.
“What is wrong with you?” He yelled, tears in his eyes as he freed himself from her, and slowly floated down to the ground. “You, you grass brained Heon. You could have gotten us killed.” The insult only made Foy laugh louder.
“We’re dead,” Foy managed to get out. “Remember,” before she returned to helpless giggling. Ryan’s ears pressed flat, a mix of embarrassment and rage coursing through the link.
Malan neared them as he said: “That was still uncalled for,” and pulled Ryan into a comforting hug. The addled god of conversion pressed himself against Malan, while Foy continued to float and laugh. He removed his miracle from her, and she fell to the floor.
Grunting, then looking up at him as if hurt, she placed a hand over her chest. “What a rude lord, treating a lady in such a fashion.” She replied, and got a grunt of annoyance from Ryan, who pushed himself from Malan’s chest, and glared at her.
“Perhaps if you looked and acted like one,” Ryan stated, then stopped. Everyone stared as Foy’s appearance shifted, going from a young girl, to a fully developed Heon woman in an instant.
Posing herself on the ground, she placed a hand under her chin, staring up at them. “You were saying.”
Ryan scowled. “You’re still a child,” he hissed.
“And you’re,” Foy started, bouncing to her feet. “To uptight, you’re as bad as Rimean at times, have some fun.”
“Flying uncontrollably through the air is not fun.” Ryan protested, while Malan did his best to comfort his shivering friend by combing his fur. “It’s terrifying and unnatural for my race, we belong underground, not up in the air.”
“Really?” Foy commented, and hopped back into the sky. “It feels quite thrilling to me.”
“That’s because you’re insane,” Ryan bit back and wrapped his arms around Malan.
‘I get the feeling this whole event is going to leave a long-lasting scar.’ Malan thought, and held Ryan in a tight embrace.
“More like open minded.” Foy commented back, doing loops before roughly dropping herself to the ground. She shifted her form back to a young innocent girl, which contrasted oddly with the changed attire. A tight short shirt, long pants, and straps holding many needles and knifes. The assortment joined with a small pack belted around her waist, and sat just above her puff ball of a tail. “Neat isn’t it,” she said smugly.
“Very useful,” Bronduff commented while nearing her, and pulled out a dagger. It remained in his grip, meaning it had substance. “Rimean is able to manifest medicinal ingredients and potions.” He plucked away another item, a needle this time. “It appears you can provide weapons.”
Foy hummed in thought, and Malan told her the same advice he’d given Rimean. Removing her pack, she opened it, and began pulling out objects. Dried leaves, mushrooms, even vials. But the key difference between the two Heons, was hers were meant to kill. Each was a dangerous poison, the sight of which made Foy grin wickedly.
“Do any of you have a clue of how many people I could kill with these?” She asked, rubbing a thumb across the contents.
Rimean moved closer, and inspected the leaves. “A few hundred with those,” he answered. “If you found a means to get people to ingest solvents of it.”
She laughed. “It wouldn’t be hard if I made a liquid solution, it could go into soups, wines,” shrugging her shoulders. “Celestials, I could just pour it on a storage of grain.”
“Thousands then,” Rimean corrected. Getting Bronduff to step closer, and Ryan to detach himself from Malan to inspect the poisons himself.
“These little leaves can cause that much harm,” he asked, his trembling’s beginning to wane.
“Of course, its why the god of life had them destroyed,” she informed. “After it became known my sect favored them to cause mischief.”
By mischief, she meant the death of settlements thoroughly loyal to Wargain.
Rolling mushrooms through her fingers, Foy eyed them with the admiration of someone who’d found gold. “With these, so much more. If setup right, they can be turned into an odorless gas that can kill everyone within a stronghold. These are also extinct, or near enough, since I haven’t been able to find them.”
“Your sect always did draw the most attention,” Bronduff said, almost enviously.
Foy eyed the objects fondly. “We used to, and will again with these.” She shook the vial of clear liquid, The substance resembling water. “If I poured this into a stronghold’s aqueduct, the whole place would be dead in days.”
“How?” Rimean asked, actually showing concern, and repulsion.
Malan eyed the two of them. ‘That’s right, their natures conflict with each other.’ To be fair, he also felt discomfort from the objects she was able to manifest into creation. As a healer, poisons had been a common problem he’d faced.
Foy wasn’t bothered by Rimean’s disapproving stare, instead amused. “It’s a slow acting poison that doesn’t cause any noteworthy symptoms.” She inspected the vial, raising it so it was touched by Sun’s light. “It dissolves the lining of the stomach, and increases the appetite of the consumer. Thus making them eat more, spreading the stomach, and further thinning the walls. After a certain amount is ingested, well.” Foy stuck her tongue out, and tilted her head, symbolizing death. “Their stomach splits open.”
Both Malan and Rimean grunted.
Stomach wounds were always a nuisance to deal with. The spread of acid into places it shouldn’t, combined with internal bleeding, made it a difficult organ to heal, and cleanup its spreading damages.
“Why haven’t I heard of this?” Bronduff asked intrigued. Even Ryan seemed taken enough by the prospect, to forget his anger, and eye the vial with obvious want.
Foy sighed. “It’s extremely dangerous to produce, since the main ingredient had come from a type of fungus that dissolved its victims. It took a lot of trials to make a solution that didn’t show instant results. That, and the moment we’d unleashed it on the population of a stronghold, killing everyone inside. Wargain’s wife went on a rampage looking for us, and the source of the blight.
Frowning, Foy placed the vial back into her pack. “She found one, and after that, I assume she searched far and wide to wipe out the species, since I never discovered another. As for why you didn’t hear about it,” Foy looked at Malan. “The pantheon acted as if it never happened, and to those that had any clue of what took place. They were informed that our lord had unleashed a disease that was no longer a problem to be worried about.
“Typical,” Malan said. Whenever anything went wrong, he was always the first blamed. But it was also smart of them, better for those who knew, to instead believe the deaths were caused by a god, rather than a group of mortals.
Foy laughed as she returned the rest of the ingredients into her pack. “Lisoe is going to have quite the tantrum once I begin handing these out to followers.”
“It’ll be more than that,” Malan said. “You will become their prime target.” He could already see the horror on their faces if small villages and strongholds began to kill over in quick secession.
“Oh,” Foy voiced. “I didn’t think that far,” shrugging she added. “Not that it matters right?” She questioned, patting her chest. “Because of what you did.”
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Malan nodded. “True, but they will be watching for you, and quickly form new defenses to block your poisons.” He already had ideas on how to stop her. As a Lifeweaver himself, he could modify followers, make them immune to certain poisons. It should be the same for Wargain’s wife, Lisoe.
“I’ll be discrete,” Foy told them. “It’s not like I conduct my real business in the open. I won’t go on some killing spree, not at first,” she added under her breath.
“We should all be discrete for a time,” Malan informed them. “Build up our strength and learn what you four can do.”
“Four,” Foy voiced. “What’s taking Derrin so long?”
“Oh, you know,” Ryan said, putting distance between him and her, now that he wasn’t distracted by Foy’s ingredients. “Lost in his musings, I mean, it happens even when you two make love.”
Foy rolled her eyes, then went still. “Say,” she muttered, before her form began to ripple and distort. They all took steps away from her when the shifts became rather grotesque.
She grunted, and strained against some unseen force, then failed. Instantly her form returned to a child Heon, one with a large disappointing pout. “I can’t change my race,” she kicked the dirt. “This is Kolune shit!”
Malan’s brows rose. “You tried to become a Dargown?” He asked, mind thinking of the possibilities. Many would be charmed by the fact their god could take on whatever likeness they felt most appealing to them.
“Well, maybe later,” Foy admitted. “I wanted to pester Ryan here by looking, and acting like him.”
“What?” Ryan said alarmed, and the rest of them sharing in his discomfort.
What an idea, a god posing as others would be useful, but he wondered if creation would allow such manipulation. It would certainly have its limits, and a myriad of ways to see through the fraud.
“Don’t be like that,” Foy continued. “It would have been funny, especially when I turned into some lass you had a liking for.” Eye’s widening, she looked at their Kolune. “Maybe I could have gotten in bed with Bronduff here.”
“Perhaps,” the Kolune said. “If you could have made yourself alluring to my eyes, I wouldn’t mind.”
She pouted more, then shifted as she tried and failed to change. “Nope, Heon only,” she grunted.
“It makes sense,” Malan told her. “Throughout your life, you were always a Heon that changed her appearance, not your race.” Malan thought about it. “Maybe the limitation can be lifted, after you have enough followers believing you can, in fact, change to such a degree.” Foy’s eyes lit up, joyful and eager to begin the process.
“I’m not sure it will work,” Malan added. “But it’s a possibility that could happen years from now.” He looked to the others. “That’s something you all should know, your followers will hold a decent amount of influence over what you can, and can’t do.”
“But I’m me,” Ryan said placing his hands on his chest.
“Yes,” Malan agreed. “But you will also be a manifestation of your religion, the ideas your followers believe you represent. It will influence you, and decide how easily you can affect the realm in certain affairs.”
He was to say more, and would. But his lecture was interrupted by the arrival of their sixth member. Following his gaze, they looked up, witnessed the Dargown arriving from the sky, and using just enough Devotion to stay afloat. It was equal to Malan’s own incantation, even though he hadn’t shared the formula with his fellow kin.
“I’m here, I’m here,” Derrin announced, while failing to land gracefully.
They all stared. “Am I seeing double?” Ryan asked, squinting his eyes. Malan smiled, taking the resemblance he and Derrin shared, as a form of flattery. Like himself, Derrin’s scholarly garb had been weaved with Sigil patterns that glowed with power. His fur was a richer blonde than it had been before, and his eyes, while not golden, were orbs of shifting lights. The rest of his physique remained the same, yet the two of them could have been seen as siblings. Which to be fair, wasn’t Derrin’s fault. Everyone aspired to be as their role models, and the Dargown had few of those.
Malan himself had been the only Dargown depicting god in the lands under Wargain’s rule for a long time. The rest from his family was long forgotten, not even myths of them remained.
Derrin, not understanding Ryan’s meaning, looked around himself. “I don’t see another me; you must be unwell.”
The Verm sighed, and motioned to Malan. “You look rather close to our lord.”
“Oh.” Derrin pulled his cloak tighter around himself, as his fur slightly flared out in embarrassment. “What do you expect, Malan is our only god. Why wouldn’t I resemble him?” Followed by Derrin looking Ryan up and down. “You look like the Architect.”
Foy’s bucked tooth smile returned, and she hopped, then wrapped herself around her lover. “He got you with that one Ryan, by the way, I think you look lovely hun.”
“Thank you,” he responded while studying her. “You look,” then paused. “The same,” he added confused. “Did it no—
He stopped talking as Foy shifted into an older version of herself, one with large plush ears that Malan was sure Heons found very attractive.” Derrin eyed her amazed as she then shifted her clothing into something much more revealing.
Rimean, who gave Foy a quick appraising glance, coughed. “Right now might not be the best time for any intimacy.”
Derrin hummed clueless of what he meant, since by Malan’s interpretation, he was quite taken by the miracle Foy had performed, and not her attempts at seduction. Enough that he didn’t notice as Foy stuck her tongue out at Rimean.
“Not to be rude,” Malan voiced, getting everyone’s attention. “But I agree. Since we’re all together now, its best we leave to places more secure.”
While the area was deserted, every sentient soul fleeing, nor did he feel the attention of other beings that mattered; namely gods. That didn’t mean it was wise to speak within the Glen for too long, and certainly not discuss plans.
No, it was time to partake in a feat he’d laid to rest long ago.
“Since there’s six of us, there will be enough Devotion to keep the place maintained. So, I motion we form a small afterlife for ourselves.”
The five shared a glance with each other, before Foy voiced the question on all their minds. “We can just do that? Instantly, no setup?”
He smiled, and patted his chest. “I told you we’re different from other gods, the Cores allow us to skip steps others can’t.” Such as obtaining a stable flow of Devotion that would ensure making, and more importantly, maintaining the afterlife was feasible. He informed them of that, and how the manifestation of an afterlife was what separated a fledgling god from a matured one.
Derrin rubbed his chin, shining eyes aimed upward in thought before he voiced his question. “How come you never made one then? Unless you did, and I didn’t know.” He looked at the others, but they shook their heads.
“I did in the past,” he answered, and not fond of the memories; his collapse. “But after my fall, I couldn’t maintain it, and by the time I could, I saw no point.” Most, and now days all who worshiped him strove to exist in the physical plane. An afterlife had no place in his religion. Besides, the Devotion used to maintain it was better spent elsewhere. However, now that they needed a secure location to plan their war. Well, there was a reason for it again.
“If an afterlife is what you think is best,” Bronduff spoke. “Then you have my aid,” the others nodded in agreement.
“Just,” Foy added a moment later. “Know we have no clue what we’re doing.”
Malan chuckled. “You in fact do; the Cores have changed your natures, and instincts. It’s not about knowing, more feeling. It happens naturally, just focus your intention and the rest will take care of itself.” It was much like breathing really, a person didn’t think about it, it just happened.
“Good to know,” Foy commented. “But what about doing it with others,” she motioned to Ryan. “Especially with a Verm.”
He glared at her. “What is that supposed to mean Heon?”
She smiled innocently. “Nothing,” she answered in her sickeningly sweet voice. “Just wondering if there will be more complications with you involved.”
“Yes,” Ryan replied, fully aware of her meaning. “I’m having the same thought when it comes to you.”
“I agree.” Derrin said, to the bewilderment of both. “Lord, this sounds like a very arcane focused working, maybe we,” he pointed to himself and Malan. “Should be the ones to perform the ritual; If there is one.”
“Hun, are you calling me dumb?” Foy asked as she stared up at him.
“What? No,” he replied. “I’m just saying you’re not suited for this; it might be too complicated.” An awkward silence fell over them, one even Derrin noticed. “Did I say something wrong?”
Before anyone else could voice a response, Malan replied: “Yes, it’s not complicated.” They looked towards him, Foy being the last, as Ryan suppressed a laugh. “We simply hold hands, and think as one of forming an afterlife together. As I said before, the rest will happen on its own.”
Derrin gave him a disappointed look. “No incantation?” He asked, hoping for some sort of challenge, a need to test his mind against a repressive reality.
Malan shook his head. “The Glen doesn’t require such resolve, it will help us make a sub-realm, where our afterlife will reside within.” A place completely under their control to do as they wished.
The other Dargown sighed, while Malan himself offered his hands. All of them moved closer, linking together in a circle. “Now,” Malan voiced. “Close your eyes, and begin thinking, willing, the creation of an afterlife for our pantheon.” Malan went first, focusing his mind on the task.
The Devotion slowly building within him responded, as did the Glen. The cost, a factual knowing he felt, began to dwindle each time another of the pantheon joined in his demand.
As he said, it fell into place as the power left them, a small continual amount that would be used to maintain the sub-realm. It was so minuscule compared to when he’d been forced to preserve one on his own; a meaningless price easily glanced over.
He smiled happily, the first boon in a long line of benefits that would come, now that he wasn’t alone.
Breathing contently, he felt the Glen distort, then fade away. He opened his eyes, aware the task was done, and beheld a new realm.
He half chuckled, almost half cried. Soaring upward were towers, and buildings, both domed topped and symmetrically shaped in a reminiscent way to his people’s architecture. Under a pristine sky, they were joined by others. Verm structures, all made of perfectly cut granite, and each trimmed in layers of gold and silver. It mixed comfortably with the lush greenery of Heon favored meadows, and cushioning grass. Trees, with broad limbs and expansive leaves—a variety Verm and Heon enjoyed—gave the place plenty of shade to rest under.
The perfect mix, for outlining the orchard they resided in, were shelves full of leather-bound books, the craftsmanship of which no mortal would find in the materiel plane. It wasn’t just tomes either. Weapons, from bows, to large axes, rested on walls near dualling pits. All of them flanked with circular rows of seats for onlookers to watch.
“See,” Malan said releasing his grip on Bronduff’s and Derrin’s hands. “Its second nature to us.” They opened their eyes, gawking at the sights.
“Finally,” Foy shouted, and bounced about on the plush grass. “Decent weather,” she took off, running around the area and surveying their new home. “And decent dwellings,” Ryan added, gazing at the structures of stone.
“Books,” Derrin spoke, his attention centered on them.
“They will hold anything we deem safe to share,” Malan said from experience. His first afterlife had archives where the dead spent much of their time reading. The act more for pleasure than need, since they could have instantly absorbed all the information into themselves within seconds.
“Marvelous,” was all he got out of Derrin, before the Dargown wandered towards the collection of tomes. Malan turned his gaze to the remaining three, each of whom eyed a different part of the plane. “Go have a look,” Malan said. “We have the time, and the privacy to relax for the moment.” Ryan didn’t need a second request before he took off, heading for the buildings. But Bronduff and Rimean remained by his side, though the latter was beginning to inspect the plant life.
Bronduff looked towards the arenas, but stayed put. “This is a marvel,” the Kolune giant said. “And I don’t fault the others for getting distracted.” Bronduff looked down at him. “But lord, is this really time to—" he waved in Foy’s direction as she bounced about, and climbed trees. “Wargain will be pressing the attack now that he saw you commit your power to a miracle.”
“Malan,” he said correcting Bronduff. “Not lord.”
The Kolune stared, “You didn’t correct the others.”
He shrugged: “I will when we begin our planning. As for right now, there’s not much else we can do, we’re all too weak. It will be some time before we have enough Devotion on hand to frustrate our enemies.” It wouldn’t be too long though, since they had six Cores empowering them. “Also, there are matters you five need to be informed about.” He added, while manifesting an ornate table of gold and granite, joined with cushioned chairs, trays of chilled spirits, and cuisines.
“Such as?” Rimean asked, taking a seat and quickly grabbing a cup of alcohol.
“Well,” Malan spoke while joining him. “A little matter about the realm possibly ending.”