The Metagame IS reality...

Estemar smiled despite himself as the Salute faded away. “Master Briggs… what if… we win?” he asked suddenly, his voice full of hope. “Not just this fight. What if… Heaven won?”

“There is no winning, the scale is too big,” Briggs replied immediately. “There is only winning HERE… which is possible, but unlikely, as you’re playing the game against Divinities, who hate to lose.

“My personal belief is that the Gods of Good won’t dare eradicate Evil off a world, as the consequences would probably obliterate what they succeeded at, just like a world utterly falling to Evil results in them wiping the board.”

“Armageddon…” murmured Estemar, nodding slowly. If Evil succeeded, Law and Chaos would likewise be irked along with Good, and certainly agree to band together and start afresh. The game would be ‘won’, and then a new game would begin…

“What happens if a truly powerful Good organization whelms up is that the power of their Faith is directed to help other forces elsewhere under the purview of Heaven. Thus, Good could rise to a commanding power on this world, but will not utterly dominate it, because the other gods will likely crush it out of spite. No, this is a game played across worlds, times, and universes. The best we can hope for is to be a major piece on the board, strong enough to accomplish things, but not so necessary that the board is wiped to get rid of us.

“Good plays the game to endure as long as possible, and set the stage for rising again once they cannot keep to the course. It is different than playing to win it all…”

Estemar’s eyes opened wide. “The Grandmaster of the Gods…” he remembered Sama saying.

“Aye. Just imagine the kind of planning ability you must have to both hold to a high moral code, and keep fighting and winning against those not bound by such codes across all the endless worlds overseen by the pantheon… and those they might be contesting with other pantheons.” Briggs shivered. “Mithar is The Grandmaster who can play with anyone, and win even when his options are restricted. He is scary dangerous, Estemar. You’re working not just for a Good Guy, but a Damn Good Guy.”

Estemar found himself smiling broadly. “You sound like a Paladin yourself, Master Briggs! You should join an Order!”

Briggs chuckled despite himself. “I’ve a bit too much Nature reverence in me for a knightly Order, Sir Estemar, but thank you for the compliment. I respect Mithar, and He’s a great role model, but I’m a pantheist more than anything, and helping all of Heaven grow, with all its sometime conflicting beliefs, is more my thing.”

“Yes, the Duty of Heaven.” All Mitharns were obligated to go to the aid of the other Goodly Churches, if they were in need… which led to a lot of guarding pilgrims of other Faiths, putting up shelters and working soup kitchens for Amana, tracking down lawbreakers for Harse, and organizing concerts for Bards of Tiirith. Things got interesting when the Nuavans requested dance partners for their revels and ceremonies…

Estemar coughed to himself and his ears turned red, remembering some stories told to him.

Both Briggs and Sama had a pretty good idea where that remark had led to, but said nothing. “Good is the only force broad-minded enough to tolerate the others on that scale. The others all believe that their way is best and right, and play only to win,” Sama said over her shoulder, voice carrying perfectly despite the wind whipping past them. “And while others may cry that Good and Evil must always be opposed, and likewise Law and Chaos, they are fools. Good and Evil are perfectly able to work together to oppose Law and Chaos, and vice versa.”

Briggs nodded. “Yeah, it’s not Evil who usually drags down Good. Evil makes Good shine, tempers it, makes it stronger as it inspires people to realize that there has to be a better way. No, it’s Law and Chaos dragging Good down which tends to break them. Or to put it another way, the grey is what kills the white, not the black.”

That was a surprise to Estemar. “What are you saying?” His eyes followed a herd of deer startled into flight as they swept past in amusement.

“Trying to smash the Good doesn’t work well. It merely breeds hope and resistance, defiance and the birth of heroes,” Sama said grimly.

“Good falls by erosion. Those who take, but do not give. Who take advantage of generosity, but are stingy with their own. Who rely on the open minds of others, but close their own hearts. Who take advantage of their rights, but deny such rights to others. Who take advantage of sympathy and understanding, but keep to their own and draw lines where none were before. Who hold their own individuality paramount, but don’t care what such a position does to others.” Briggs harrumphed. “The death of Good is death by inches, picked apart and worn away as others see that if they take advantage, they can get ahead by being unfair to others. It is not blatant, it is not evil, it is cloaked in self-interest and competition and tradition and rule interpretations and birthrights and social status, driven by the instincts that made us what we are, and there is no getting around it.”

“Nature is not Good,” Sama agreed from ahead of them. “And in the end, we are products of Nature. Those drives will always be with us, and we cannot escape them. We favor friends and family over strangers. We want territory and resources to provide for us and our own. We want to be in control of our own destinies, and not beneath others who will determine our fates. We will fight for all the same reasons other animals do: territory, mates, dominance, power. These instincts always claw at the Good and drag it down.”

Estemar frowned again. “Does not Evil do the same?”

“Evil takes it to extremes. Nature does not engage in wanton slaughter… Evil does. Evil does those things for the sake of doing those things, not because you need the land, want the woman, or desire to be the boss. The grey tend to never be prepared for what the black are capable of, as they do all the things the grey do, without the restraints the grey place upon themselves. Evil crosses lines readily, does not have any limits, and justifies it to themselves without breaking stride,” Sama spat.

“It’s strange that when the same thing gets done to them, or they get called to task, they are the first ones to whine about how unfair it is,” snickered Briggs. “’Hey, I’m King now, just because I poisoned my father, murdered my brothers, and executed all my rivals is no reason to hate me! I just did what had to be done!’” he mimed in a parochial yet whining voice.

Estemar flushed. “That… is not far from the state of affairs of the royal and imperial Houses,” he noted.

“I wouldn’t know, but if it is, that should tell you something important,” Briggs answered calmly.

Estemar took that thoughtfully. He glanced at The Map in his head, and noticed the next area of fighting was drawing rapidly closer… but was not the closest battle to be fought. “We are not hitting the group nearby?”

“We need to go further north and link up with the Rockborn , get some Marks spread there to coordinate forces. The elves and Rangers are already spreading word of what they do, so the dwarves should be ready to volunteer at least some people for the benefits in the name of cooperation.”

Estemar nodded again. He had only received a couple of Sama’s orders when fighting, keeping him on Briggs’ heels as the Ancient smashed holes through the lines of their enemies, but the feeling of inspiration and invincibility that wound through him from that feeling of command, of unity, and Tremble’s Song wafting through his mind was silk that was stronger than steel... He’d never felt such a powerful motivating force, driving him on.

If he were to admit it to himself, it was probably that incredible aura of command that had kept him alive in those fights. He had felt like a great hero, and performed like one… it had been incredible!

General Moonriver had been a phantom of death on the battlefield, his spells and sword netting him over a hundred kills, always where he was most needed and could minimize the damage done to his troops. Any protests the elven general had over Sama being in charge had evaporated. When he had raced off towards the next fight on his horse, he had been smiling in anticipation.

And now the enemy was right there, on The Map…

“You seem to be able to see the game of gods,” Estemar mused to both of them. While his voice didn’t carry, their Marks seemed to let them hear it nonetheless. “Are there implications for winning in our fight with the Warped?”

“The obvious reason for such a move is never the true move. These are gods, their motives are all ridiculously subtle and long term. Invading and wreaking havoc is great fun, but the odds of success are too low. There are too many forces here who can whelm against them, and only total stupidity on the part of the gods would allow the Warped to move enough forces here to actually accomplish their goals,” Briggs said warily, rubbing his thick chin.

“And warbands? Seriously?! They should have whelmed up and moved out in a true army of a minimum of twenty thousand, and upwards of a hundred thousand, if they wanted to accomplish anything noteworthy,” agreed Sama.

“So, the slaughter is a cover for something else?” Estemar frowned.

“Biggest one is their names get out there,” Briggs sighed. “Since people learn about them, they will want to know about them. They will investigate…”

“And the weak of mind will be drawn in by their promises…” Estemar realized.

“There’s bound to be agents of the Warped moving out with more stealth, looking to infiltrate the lands and spread the worship of their Patrons. jRaztl is particularly fond of the technique, like digging worms of corruption into the lands,” Briggs spat.

“Void Brothers on it. Those touched by the Warp are like great stinking trails to them. They’ll not get away easily from those fellows,” Sama pointed out.

The Windarrow and Shadowknife had left before morning, as soon as the new Weapons they’d been promised had been completed. Their positions were on the map, moving with remarkable speed to the north and east.

“Are there others coming?” Estemar asked. Despite himself, he had been reluctant to engage the legendary killers in conversation.

“A number are already here. The Fire and the Sword, the Ancient and the Axe, the Mountain and the Hammer, the Light and the Scepter, and the Mind and the Ring, as the Warped directly infringe on things they are sensitive to. Brother Windarrow said Brothers Wayfist and Nightscythe may or may not show, but they can get messages to them through their own network… or by using the Marked,” Sama told him, smiling slightly.

“Master Briggs mentioned the Firesword, but not the others. I confess to knowing nothing of them,” Estemar admitted.

“The Ancient and the Axe is always Urukhar, and sensitive to the movement of primordial forces, ancient races, and the like. He is typically battling infestations of magical creatures, Jotun warlords, overeager dragons, and the like.”

“Urukhar? Half-orcs?” Estemar was astonished.

“Aye. The Mountain and the Hammer is always dhatun, half-dwarven. Their Void is tuned to geomantic forces, things down Deep. They rove the under-realms like shadows, and have contact with more horrors than all but the Shadowknife,” Briggs took over. “The things buried under Yle Tyorm waking up at all this activity will definitely bring him up.

“The Light and Scepter responds to change in the currents of Divine power, faith and belief. This intrusion by the Warp gods will instantly provoke a response.”

“There is a Void Brother that monitors the gods?” Estemar was stunned at the pure hubris of that statement.