The Celestial realm, Deep inside the Great Library, in a Meeting room…
41st of Anael, the first month of snow.
Just after Midnight
Discussion had dragged on for hours as Maxwell and some dozen lesser and small gods worked deep into the night on ways to find and eliminate, or if needs must recapture the rogue elemental.
“It would help if we knew what kind of elemental it was.” One small god, who was also just small, said in frustration as it paced across the table on stubby legs while sipping coffee from a thimble. “If we could determine the type we are dealing with, it would make things easier.”
“Judging by the imprisonment location, I would hazard the guess that it is either air or fire.” Another small god replied.
Max looked up from yet another research book, “We’ve been down this road before, Lemon, Greg.”
The small small god glared at Max, “My name is-”
“Lemon.” Max stretched. “Your given name is three sentences long, and more descriptive than most High Elves’ names.”
“Fine. Heretic.” Lemon declared. “I was thinking that making a dedicated finding artifact would work best-”
“We already discussed that as well.” A slim, log/rock/vine god said.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“Would you all let me finish?!? Please?!?” Lemon nearly screamed. “I mean, I know I’m small, but I’m not stupid!”
The rest of the gods fell silent.
“Thank you.” Lemon sighed. “Now, a dedicated finding artifact as they are currently made can only find a single type of item, and “elemental” is too broad for our purposes. What I was thinking was a compound, sliding scale item similar to the one that Bjorn is testing so he can find his bladed projects in his back shed.”
The room went quiet. Some of the gods didn’t even breathe. Then the uproar started.
-
City of Dragon, Snows Provence, Kingdom of Garthia
It contracted its growing body, retrieving long tentacles of itself from the throats of its food. Hmm. This food had names. Jacob, Penelopy, and Jason. I wonder if I should eat food with names? Doesn’t matter, I need to grow. Using newfound strength from the young food, raising the window and oozing down the side of the house was easy.
-
The Celestial Realm
Max and Lemon wandered down the street to Bjorn’s forge. When they knocked on the door and got no answer, Lemon began to walk away, but Max smiled and pulled the door open, stepping in.
Lemon gasped, eyes going wide, “You’re just going to break in and steal his item?”
“If you mean “The Strategic Transfer of Equipment to Alternate Locals”, then yes.” Max smiled, “If you mean “Theft”, then no. I leave theft to the governments of the world, as they don’t like the competition.”
Lemon slumped. “Fine. I’ll stand watch in case anyone decides to be offended.”
“Good.” Max meandered into the old forge and began searching for the item in question.
Three hours, a face full of coal powder, and a nail in his boot later, Max stumbled out of the forge. “I couldn’t find it.”
Lemon looked up from a bench across the street from the forge, “Okay. Guess we will have to ask him in the morning. I suggest we head to bed.”
Max grunted assent, and departed.
-
It lay in the gutter below the window. I think I need a name. How about Benny? No, doesn’t sound right. Walter White? No, that leaves a cloud of something in the air. Frank Castle? No. Kim? Nope. Joseph? No. Karl? No. Hugo? No. Maxwell? No. Hmm… I suppose I will find a name somewhere else… Brick? Maybe… It rolled down the gutter, then across a street and into an unguarded basement. I should decorate this place. A couple of throw pillows, and maybe a news reporter? What’s a news reporter?