Ok, I thought. Ok. Voice Of The Gods. That was a pretty major one. Supposed to be reserved for…what, what the hell was I thinking? This is the end of the world! Forget the rules. Let’s just go for it. I had talked to mortals informally before, of course, but this was my first time delivering an official message from the gods. I had seen it done before several times, however. I would just imitate what I remembered.
***
Epictetus blinked his eyes a little bit. In front of him was standing a young man. Maybe he had walked up to him while he was recovering from the vision, and Epictetus just hadn’t noticed? Was this one of the group of survivors that he had been with for the last two days? Maybe someone who had joined just recently. He didn’t remember seeing him. No. This lad was definitely of military age, and he looked strong enough to fight. Decius would have definitely pointed him out. Maybe he was a straggler who approached the group from the other side of the hill? He was awfully clean looking for the apocalypse. Other than some dirt that made it look like he had just fallen face-first into the ground, it looked like he could have just come from bathing. Maybe he was one of the last survivors who saw their group on the hill from far off and had come to make his stand with them.
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“Uhhh…greetings and uhhh phalicitations.” Said the young man. Why was he being so awkward? “I bear um greetings unto you from the gods. For thou art visited this day by a god which is I.” He said, starting to hit his stride.
Epictetus blinked a little bit.
“There you are, mother fucker!” said Decius striding across the soon-to-be battlefield. “What is happening to our world, and where the hell have you guys been?” Decius was really taking meeting a god in stride.
“You probably shouldn’t talk to a god that way.” Advised Epictetus.
“What’s he going to do? Get mad and destroy the whole world so that I die by getting eaten by people who have gone insane? Well, I’ve got a signal tower message for you! That ship has already rowed out of port by no less than one hundred and seventy oarsmen arranged on three vertically stacked decks operating with an admirable yet essential degree of synchronisation without which the oars would become hopelessly fouled with one another, but they didn’t because they rowed way out to sea already, never to be seen again!”
“What? Well, he could send you to Hades and have you placed in some kind of poetic and elaborate torture forever.” Epictetus said in an undertone.
“I don’t care.” Said Decius and directed his question firmly to the god, “What is happening to our world?”
“Actually,” said the young god “I was kinda hoping you…uh th…thee… thou could tell me.” And after a brief pause of eye contact.
“Could’st.”
V0.2.0 11/8/23