Shinna got lots of loot from the Table of Heaven, including me.

We stepped into the throne room of Ram Gram Woole.

Ram Gram Woole was a massive figure. Preternaturally tall and muscular, the man-god had a bright glow about him. It was as if his muscles had been dipped in the sun.

The reason why I call him a “man-god” is because he is one of the incarnations of masculinity.

Ram Gram Woole sat on a throne of bone thirty meters high. His orange sandals were like molten, glowing warships on the throne room floor. His beard was long and unkempt, and it stank of unwashed skin.

When Shinna entered Ram Gram Woole’s throne room with me, he removed his cap, bent a knee, and bowed. Timidly, I did the same.

Stolen story; please report.

There was a moment of silence, and then the huge figure before us stood up. As he did, something miraculous happened. It was a magic I had never seen before. With each minuscule movement of every solitary muscle, the man shrank until he was standing at Shinna’s height.

“What news from the rift,” he said.

“Your soothsayer spoke true,” said Shinna. “We were able to come through at the exact place he prophesied.”

“I will have fifty Mons-s-Sgo’ slaughtered in his honor,” said Ram Gram Woole. “Bring him to me when we are done here.” He turned to me. “And who is this?”

“I got lots of loot from the Table of Heaven,” he said, “including this one. You. Tell The Great One your name.”

Shadows played under Shinna’s hat. I couldn’t be sure of his eyes. Yet there was a gleam in there. A glimmer, maybe, a physical reflection from Ram Gram Woole’s bright glow. But perhaps what I saw was deeper--some kind of hidden amusement?

Who could know for sure?

“My name is,” I started, but The Great One interrupted me before I could finish.