Vignette- 10,000 Gods

They had mostly forgotten the old ways long before the Change. Left the fields and the Gods of their ancestors for the bright lights of the city. They forgot the household gods and the shrines that housed them. Forgot the wisdom of the elders who yet remembered.

Mostly.

A few elders held on. Giving proper obeisance and polishing the memories. Day after day, year after year. Holding onto the chain that reached back over two thousand years.

Two thousand years and the ending of a world.

Time had completed a cycle and the young were left adrift and scared in a new world they did not understand and could not feel safe in. They chose to remember the old once more.

And so the red gates had risen, the shrines had been formed. The small gods of field and tree were enshrined and worshiped.

None of the artifacts had survived the reforging. No bronze bells, no figurines or swords.

But the memories lingered and new symbols were forged. Old gods and Gods found new homes. Long histories gave them personality. Belief gave them form and power.

10,000 gods and Gods reawakened to a world much more suited to their tales. They were capable of giving protection and guiding the new generations. To help them find their place.

Obeisance must be made and sacrifices offered, but prayers could be, and were answered.

Chapter 43

“Mother F-” A wild tirade of cursing echoed out of the eastern tower's second floor. Not merely a sentence or two, but several minutes of unrepeated invective so vile that the former merchant marine sailors on guard duty in the bunker below found themselves impressed.

“I don’t quite think you can do all those things at one time. Do you Vance?” One middle aged man littered with nautically themed tattoos, skin tanned and leathery from environmental abuse, elbowed his neighbor and asked with a snide smile.

“I’m willing to give it the old college try with your wife later Bolle.” Another similarly aged and tattooed man shot back automatically. Too many years of such teasing had gone by for either of them to be more than mildly amused by the byplay. Still they kept it up for the same reason that many people pursue old habits. After enough time passes they become comfortable rituals.

“You two joke all you want.” Regi’s giant frame squeezed through the inner door from the gardens with steps that were unnaturally quiet for a man of his size. “Just keep your eyes peeled. I don’t want to have to bury either one of you.” His tone became rather bleak with the last few words.

That got a sad nod from each of them, albeit without turning their heads away from the outer view slit. They had lost old Petey just two nights past. A shadow snake that barely fit through the view slit caught him out. Whether because he was napping or just unlucky they would never know. Alarm charms only work if they are kept active. It was yet another name to be written on the obelisk. Along with far too many others.

Regi gave them a companionable pat on the shoulders that made their knees quake alarmingly, before he began the climb to the second story.

“Alright brother mine, tamp it down before Ma hears you and decides to make this a ‘teaching’ moment. So much filth can come from a human mouth?” He smiled slyly as he stepped off the ladder.

The cursing died down as Timothy turned away from a table full of notes and chunks of partially carved stone. Each stone card, though beautifully carved, had an odd jagged unfinished look to them. Something less than the sleak utility of most of his works. “This from you? Don’t think I don’t remember where I learned it!” Still, his fit of anger had been broken (by the blatant hypocrisy!) and his good sense was beginning to finally shine through.

Regi smiled widely, “True enough, true enough. Let me teach you something else then. Don’t attempt to pass on your learning to Ma.” He gave a comically overdone grimace as if he had an intolerable taste in his mouth.

“Thank you Captain Obvious. Ma may have raised a stupid child but it is certanly not me.”

“Sure, sure. Now what's up? I don’t think I have heard you this angry since before the fall.”

Timothy gave a deep sigh, his eyes darting back to the table full of notes and incomplete prototypes. His left hand briefly tugged yet another piece of hair out into an uggly attempt at a fro. “More frustrated than angry. It seemed like such a good idea at the time.” He stopped to give the wide eyed Regi a speaking glance.

“Gods Timothy, why would you say that? It’s on the same level as ‘what’s the worst that could happen?’” He knocked on a wooden sideboard as he said this and spat over his shoulder, “Or starting a story with ‘this one time down in Mexico.’”

“I already got bitch slapped by fate, might as well get a chuckle out of it. None of this is working, nor is anything I can think of likely to either!” Timothy morosely began grabbing the loose sheets of paper and carefully organizing them into clean piles.

“This being?” Regi gestured to the messy table that was rapidly becoming less messy.

“My Bensen Buffer. It doesn’t work nor is it likely to. A fact, in hindsight, that you should be grateful for.” He raised an eyebrow and waited

Regi Snorted “I’m not going to bite on obvious bait, Timothy. Just tell me already.”

“Fine, party pooper, if I could block his...worship then I could also disrupt your Brotherhood bonds. It’s all belief bullshit at this point. I can’t block him because worshippers seem to use an entirely different... spectrum? Network? Fuck, thats not quite it, but as ussual there aren’t any correct words! I know the magic field, to some extent at least. I can see the effects of belief on that field. But I have no fucking clue how belief gets around. Magic travels in notes, vibrations or even songs through the warp and weft of the field. I can play with that transmision with linking runes and interference runes. Either to make metaphorical telephone lines or jamming the shit out of someone else's work.”

“But belief just seems to be. No travel, no movement. Just there. The beginning and the end are very clear. Worshipers to worshipee or vice versa. If there’s a field for belief I have not found it and since I can’t figure out how it travels I can’t block it!” Scrubbing his hands through his hair Timothy collapsed into the chair, leaning his head backwards as far as it would go and staring at the ceiling. “I’m stumped.” His face relaxed a bit and Regi could not help but notice the blood shot eyes and deep bags that accented them.

He sighed and pulled a second chair from against the wall. Sitting down rather more carefully than his brother had, some lessons only need to be learned once, he leaned forward with one elbow on his knees and his chin resting on his knuckles.

They sat in silent contemplation for several minutes.

At last Regi gave it up with a sigh. “Now what? We chose this road because the rest of the options sucked. It felt so clever breaking out of the conventional box.”

“It seems rather pathetically cliche to say, but no knowledge is worthless. Something about Thomas Edison and lots of ways NOT to make a lightbulb. “ Standing up unsteadily he stumbled over to the sideboard for a cup of water and some smoked hog jerky. Taking a small bite and washing it down he felt somewhat restored. “At least I know now. I can’t mess with belief in transit. At least not till I understand how the fuck that transit works!”

He flung the remaining chunk of jerky down onto the desk in frustration. Taking several deep breaths he continued in a calm voice "That leaves messing with its creation or messing with its storage. Both are somewhat more risky.”

Regi leaned back in his chair and waited. Timothy gingerly picked the jerky back up and took a few more bites. “If I mess with the storage of belief then I have to mess with that blasted statue. It’s large, it’s obvious and the amount of belief already present means it’s sorta protects itself. If I mess with the worship service Bensen is going to be right there and likely to notice. That shoots subtle right in the foot and leaves direct. Direct conflict could spiral out of control pretty quickly.”

“A good approach to start with, but if we can’t do it quietly then slamming the door in his face will also work.” Seeing Timothy's incredulous look and a mouth beginning to open he waved him down. “Hold your horses, I am not saying to start it half cocked. We need to put it to a quick council vote. That should give you plenty of time to work up some real nasty party favors. You don’t exactly do these things on the snap of your fingers Timothy. Took you a week to find out what you couldn't do.”

“I am not looking to cover my ass Regi! Sure take it to the council, although a ‘quick’ vote sounds like an oxymoron, but at the end of the day is this wise?” He paused for a few moments to organize the scattered clump of predictions and fears. “Bensen doesn’t back up worth a damn. Frankly I am not sure he can. Not the way his self belief works on a feedback loop.”

“You mentioned that before, I think I get it but please explain in more detail. It seems like a pretty massive weakness.”

“It could be one, but it's also a strength as long as it works. He’s correct because he has always been correct. Each new victory feeds the myth of invincibility. The myth inspires belief which makes it not so mythical. Then, say, something tries to kill him and fails, It exponentially increases his confidence in his own infallibility. It's a powerful set of armor as long as it works, but it becomes a weakness as soon as he has a major failure. No second chances.”

Timothy made eye contact, trying by force of will to make Regi understand. “If I step in and fuck up this ritual he will not take it lying down. He can’t. It’s not a small thing like stealing his women or robbing him blind. It’s a direct attack on his very source of power.”

Regi nodded, “That’s his problem, not ours. We can’t just let him have his way because he chose to base his power on egotism. We have an obligation to our own community to not allow his poison to spread here. But I take your point. This could explode on us. So what do we do about that?”

“I won’t presume to tell you how to prepare, but I am going to predict how he is going to respond. Study him in more detail and see how he usually responds, then make guesses about how else he could react. Then make preparations and enchantments aimed at each of those conditions. Plus any others general situations we might need to deal with.”

“Sounds like you are playing chess with our lives… Sucks but then again do we have a choice?”

“Of course. There is always a choice. Take it like a bitch or retaliate. We made that decision. Now it's just about making sure we wind up on top.”

Breaking out in laughter, Regi took a minute to get himself under control, “Thank you doctor Phil for breaking that down for me.”

“Laugh all you want. Having the balls to fight is the first decision that needs to be made in any conflict. Are you willing to go the distance? If not then it's all just a bluff.”

“Just a bluff brother? Nothing just about bluffs. Many a game of poker was won without the cards to back it up.”

“Sure, but if it's your life, and the lives of those under your care in the pot then you had better have stacked the deck. Much better to bluff if you have the aces in your hand too.”

“...That’s not what bluffing means bro. If you have the aces then you don’t need to bluff.”

“The metaphor falls through then bro. Cause if we have to lay down our aces then we are gonna see some of our own die to win that pot. Having a big enough stick sometimes means you don’t have to use it. But only if, when the cards fall where they will, you are willing to swing it. Course even if we had a royal flush face up in front of us this particular mad dog would probably still call.”

“..Then your point is what? This metaphor has gotten away from you I think Timothy.”

“My point is we have time to stack the deck. If we can’t do this subtle then make damn sure we do have that royal flush ready for him to read ‘em and weep.”

“Ahhh, now that. That I can get behind. Let’s do it!”

A good life takes time.

Time to plan.

Time to create.

But most importantly time to think!

So many go through life dancing at the behest of every new crisis. The illusion of free choice. They think they chose the life they have, yet in reality they only get to make a few small choices. Car broke down? No choice to put it on the credit card. Need to save up? Can’t! Too much interest from the credit cards. Each subsequent action forced down stream in a seemingly inevitable tide.

But is it really so? Was there no other initial choice?

Of course there was. It just happened far before the first crisis. They chose not to think ahead. Not to prepare for what might come, hoping beyond hope that nothing bad would crop up rather than preparing for when it would.

Free choice only really exists for the prepared. When life rears up to bitch slap you the amount of choices are often extremely limited. Sometimes it defaults to ‘take it, smile optional’.

But how can a person be prepared for everything? It is not possible. There is too much that can go wrong to be prepared for all of it.

This leads to the second part of thought.

Prediction.

Some compare it to a chess game. If the pawn moves forward then what? If the enemy attacks with his bishop what will you do? Action and possible reaction. The first step in chess can be easy. If X then the opponent will do one of three things. Then what? Each of those actions cause a reaction, then another group of optional reactions occur. Four becomes sixteen. Each additional move you predict the number of possible responses balloons.

Life is not a chess game. Even the very first move is not limited to merely three possible responses. But while people often respond in incredibly foolish, crazy and unpredictable ways, those ways are foolish and crazy because they don’t work! The number of good options can be extremely limited. Limited enough to allow for prediction. Prepare accordingly.

Predict and Prepare.

Timothy carefully took a deep breath. He had made his predictions and prepared his preparations. No more meetings, no more long enchanting sessions, no more quiet missions to drop off ward stones in the jungle. Now it was time to see how well they had stacked the deck.

Looking through his pool he waited a few final moments for the cultists to file into their improvised worship room not more than 100 feet below him. Then, as they began the ceremony he activated the first arrow in a quiver that was rather full.

He smiled at the silliness of it. A prank more than an outright attack. A memory of far to many years in an uncomfortable pew, trying to stay awake as a child. Trying and failing. Boredom can be such a dangerous thing for a child.

This set of three runes encouraged eyes to be distracted. For the minds behind them to get lost in random thoughts. It didn’t take much to mess up the timing of the massed prayer.

A small magical effect with a very large resulting mental effect. One that he had spent far too much time moralizing over. Was a distraction field a mental manipulation? Of course it was. Was it mind control? So far he was going with no. The lines in the sand were getting rather blurry.

The massed choir of voices became a bable. Losing much of its majesty and potency in the small chaotic swirls of off beat voices. The amount of belief condensing on a small, hand carved bust of Bensen followed suit.

And it did not go unnoticed.

Belief, pure, without doubt or distraction, poured into the makeshift idol. The surrounding magic field pulsed and compressed to show a familiar face and form.

It formed, Timoty noted, but not easily or smoothly. At least not at first. Inconsistencies in form between the person and the statue began to smooth themselves away. Much like his map had done, now that he thought about it. As they became more in sync the instability began to decrease. The next manifestation would be much faster and cheaper.

Why hello ugly. He made a note to mess with the minor idol in the future. Sure Bensen would fix it each time he manifested. But it wouldn’t be for free.

Putting aside the thought of a big nose, mustache and glasses he braced himself for the reaction of a would be inevitable.

Distraction worked best when the task at hand was somewhat boring and repetitive, a visitation hardly qualified. Under the eyes of their god the prayer quickly began to coalesce back into one mass voice.

Step one success, on to step two. If his attention was here, then it was by default not There. Timothy activated his second distraction field in Templeton even as he allowed the one below him to fade away. The distance made it more expensive but the numerous wardstones surrounding the town made that distance manageable. At least when it would only be used, at most, thrice a day.

It was simple harassment. No noble upright battle nor a highbrowed duel of spells. But the amount of belief being gathered took a severe hit.

Apparently Bensen could judge the same. “WHO DARES?” His voice rang out both in templeton (A small secondary scrying pool let Timothy keep track of both at once.) and Runehold.

Or at least it tried to in Runehold. The series of barriers Timothy had installed over the last few weeks included one aimed at sound. The results were somewhat unfortunate for the cultists as his voice rebounded from the barrier and filled the small room to truly intolerable levels.

Timothy winced as he watched them scream and attempt to cover ears that had hints of blood coming from them. Pretty stupid question really. It wasn’t like there were that many people he has pissed off recently and also owned the fortress his peons were worshiping in.

Seeing the pain of his followers, Bensen frowned and spoke. “BE HEALED”. Shattered eardrums and mild concussions faded away as if an unpleasant dream.

Fuck me if that asshole doesn’t have some power to back up his bull shit.

Taking advantage of the delay and distraction Timothy decided to go slightly off script. Using a very fine remote material removal tool he began to add almost unnoticeable wrinkles to the grand statue in Templeton. The barest hint of crows feet. Even that small goal took vastly more magic and willpower then it should have. The aura of belief cloaked the statue in assumed invincibility, powerful in its sheer arrogance. It could not be harmed because it had never been harmed.

The fun thing about that sort of logic was that once you pull it off once… He had to use the full mana charge on the enchantment along with a massive incipient headache to punch through. Even then he only managed to add a single tiny wrinkle.

A wrinkle that would heal with the next application of belief. Almost no damage to show for all that mana and a headache that was quickly reaching migraine proportions. Still he smiled through the pain. He had punched through its defenses once. Like an inviolate robe of pure white, it now had a speck of mud on its hem. Could it still be called inviolate. Once touched it was by definition no longer untouchable! No, It was not invincible, not inviolate. He had and he could harm it. Both Timothy and the world itself knew this to be true, even if Bensen didn’t. Next time it would be vastly easier.

He was in this for the long haul, not for immediate satisfaction.

He would take it slow and careful.

He glanced back at the manifestation in the cultists' makeshift temple below. Healed and having witnessed a miracle first hand they were back to full prostration at the feet of their God. Their very angry God.

Did I do that? My bad…

Ok, so he wasn’t above a bit of satisfaction of the immediate variety! He had a long way to go to truly conquer his own ego.

“THIS WAS A MISTAKE ON YOUR PART. YOU STARTED THIS, BUT I. I SHALL END IT!”

Timothy sighed, controlling his ego meant letting that jackass have the last word. Of course, the last word meant little. He caressed the spent tool’s polished surface with a sad smile. The last breath could mean quite a bit.