It was early in the morning; the sky was clear after yesterday’s storm. Many gathered for today's event.
Today is the day he thought as two guards drag him in the mud. No more tricks, no secret rescue, no more allies in the dark. The angry crowd slowly split apart as he passed them, they were shouting like a mob at him, but he didn’t care. His rags were soaked wet and dripped from mud as they reached the bench and put his head on it.
The crowd became quiet as the old mayor stepped forward. A scroll in his hands. He didn’t open it, he already knows his lines, they all know it. It was the fourth one today and the sun still laid low on the horizon.
“In the name of King Ronbal, you Louret from Raveneye found guilty in theft, murder and high treason. The penalty is… death! May Mourteen find mercy in your soul. Executioner, carry out the judgment!”
It was just a slight nod towards a minotaur next to the bench, the orders were clear. The silence was piercing. Rows could hear as the monstrous beast grip tightened around the axe’s handle. Many elves would have sworn that the wood died again.
A swift cut, all it took and the world was rolling for Louret. The sharp pain slowly faded as consciousness failed him.
------------------------------
A white room, here where everything started. Empty, bright, infinite.
Well, mostly empty. A lonely chair in the present of a comfy sofa, each with one rather practically not well suited for conversation occupant. On the sofa was lying a mostly humanlike creature in shape. A creature made of black and purple flames and only he knows what else. His flames defying gravity following the being upwards and not the law itself. On the other furniture, a ragged clothed old man with pen and paper in hand only his partner knows why, shifted his weight continuously trying to find reassurance, occasionally looking around like a trapped prey.
This was not meant to be. He was not Meouteen, nor this was her domain. This was worse, worse than death.
Every sane person would be nervous in the presence of the god of change. “The mad god”, this is how most people far across Neloresh called him. A wrong answer or simply bad luck was enough to be rewarded with eternal torment. His existence was at stake and he was aware of it.
Every muscle stiffened in his body as the mad god began to speak.
“I can’t believe it, it been days since I scattered the last bunch of outsiders and they still haven’t done anything, even worse three is already dead.” He squirmed and hit the couch as a bad-tempered child. “I even give them a head start, but nooooo… They rather try to blend in and make a living in the new world.” He stopped and took a deep breath, or it looked like it. “Every second feels like an eternity. Do you know what I’m talking about? I’m slowly losing myself as I see ‘the day’ further and further away.”
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
Silence. It felt like an eternity. Louret had to break it or risk the god childish wrath and its consequences.
A former assassin yet his voice felt weak. “I might understand it. But… how could it be helped?”
“I don’t know!” he shouted. Silence, there was no echo. “I need someone who…” The being slowly rose from the sofa “lead…” A wide red grin was forming on its face “them.”
“And that person would be?” He already knew it, but he feared not to play his role.
It stepped closer and closer towards Louret and slowly passed him. He didn’t dare to turn toward it. “I might have found the perf… HEY!... You didn’t write anything! What kind of therapist are you?!” Louret broke a sweat, the cold mud became a pleasant memory within seconds.
“What?” his voice was shaking.
“What what? You WERE supposed to write down a well-constructed diagnosis about… never mind.” The paper and the pen disappeared with a hand gesture. “I haven’t sent you on your way and you already failed me.” Louret wished he spilt the beans and took the deal when he had the chance back then.
A few moments and It continued. “Sigh… You going to gather them, train them, make them fulfil their purpose.” It placed his hands on Louret shoulders. “Am I clear?”
“Ye-es.”
“Good, now let’s discuss the new you.” As it reappeared sitting on the sofa.
“My what?” He felt as the years of training and skill grinding failed him as the words just slipped out.
“Gash, you are really slow, aren’t you? You have just been removed from the living, head first. So, you need a new you, it is that simple.” He would and could not argue with that. “Usually I use dice for this kind of stuff, but luck is on your side today. Be my guest for your first time… Don’t worry I will be gentle. Gender?”
A bolt from the blue, it made Louret baffled. “Um…”
“Times up. Female. Race?”
This was getting ridiculous fast, he had to choose or prepare for the worst. “Human.”
“Booooring. Let’s go with Gem-gargoyle, 7’9 feet, c-cup. Done, now comes the dice.” And a dice formed on Louret lap. “Would you kindly?”
A seal of fate, a dice from a god. Countless sides yet a preferable outcome. As the legends said. Louret took the dice, there was no going back. Slowly stood up from the chair, glared one last time into the distance and threw the dice.
It went too far, he couldn’t see the outcome, his legs were too stiff to move right away. But he could see in the corner of his eyes as the grin slowly formed again on the mad god's face.
“Sorry kid but the game was rigged from the start.” Everything went black for Louret and he disappeared.
------------------------------
He took a last peek at the dice. “Hero.” it said.
“The first good roll over hundreds of years. I better start collecting a few more cliché or I would be out before ‘the day’.”