It had been a long time since he’d felt so insignificant. The last had been back when he first died. A mere shade clutching to his hate to hold off the Glens pull. The need for revenge, and his knowledge of godhood guiding him to salvation.

Yet now, gazing upon the land from a cliff face. And hurling small stone shrines out into the lit sky. He saw not much had really changed. He is weak, the enemy is strong.

“But not forever.” If Madness prediction is true, then Wargain is going to experience what it’s like to be the weaker combatant in a fight. “I’ll be there, ready to ram a knife into your back.” It’s the least he could do to his ancient foe. Considering how Wargain had ruined everything he’d aspired to achieve.

“All will be right in the end.” He told himself, throwing another stone. It sailed off at a blinding speed. Powered by a miracle of wind and protection so the shrine wouldn’t break on contact with the ground.

It been a while since he’d used such a tactic. But with Wargain now able to pinpoint the location of his shrines. He was making use of it again.

He threw shrines out randomly, hoping it would keep Wargain and his fellow gods busy. Plus frustrate them.

From the sights and sounds his Shadows sent his way. He could see the pantheon had expected him to fold quickly. Believed he was already half dead, given his passive role over the centuries.

Now they were beginning to realize, after weeks of hunting his shrines down. that isn’t the case.

“I can do this forever.” He said with a smile. Pleased his foes didn’t have the same luxury. “How much are you willing to waste on this Wargain?”

Even with millions of followers, summoning one host of Ascendants after the other as a show of force wasn’t cheap. Not with a new war front and an emerging foe claiming the infants freshly born.

The visions of comatose infants never ceased and showed the dream plague was worsening. Children ranging from one to three months old were falling into a sleep they couldn’t wake from. All showing the same fearful trembling as they fought, or ran about in some nightmare.

The priests - of course - were still blaming him. But gone were the words of him fading, that the plague was a desperate last act of malice before he was extinguished.

Now they talked of him like the days before his dormancy.

“The Ruiner has come anew,” preachers screamed. “His heretics have multiplied thanks to the acts of traitors. Repent brothers and sister and keep your eyes open. The enemy is among us.”

Malan rolled his own and tuned out the words being sent to him by a Shadow. Annoyed with the double speak of priests and their gods who made-up whatever fantasy that suited them. However, his annoyance didn’t spread to the people themselves, they didn’t have a chance, ignorant souls as they are. Yet even they were beginning notice something was off, and in turn began to waver in their faith.

The pantheon may not know it. But the volume of prayers sent his way was growing. People hungry for power, and believed his reemergence as a chance to gain it. Despite this, those souls didn’t make up the majority.

No, the prayers of the desperate flooded his mind.

‘Please don’t take my children,’ so many sent to him. ‘I’ll send my Devotion, offer service, just please. Free my pups.’

He felt the urge to aid these half heretics. But he couldn’t, he didn’t have the power to do as they asked.

Even if these people sent their Devotion daily, it wasn’t enough to counter the claim this apparition had laid upon the infants.

‘Please.’ Whispered a woman, the plea so great he felt her slowly converting to a follower. ‘What do I need to do? How many lives must I offer to, what acts in your name must I commit in return of my children’s freedom.’

“How is this not suffering?” He questioned to the open air, thinking of Madness. “For me, and them” His nature compelled him to act, or at the very least answered the poor girl.

‘There is nothing you can offer.’ He sent her, his voice soothing and warm. Yet her mind flooded with fear.

No matter how hard people pray, none expected to hear an answer. He continued on, comforting her the best he could. ‘For there is nothing I can do.’ He admitted to a woman who believed in her heart he was the manifestation of everything wicked. ‘For this curse isn’t my doing.’

Disbelief reigned in her mind, and a thought she believed was a revelation. ‘You want more.’ She thought quietly to him. ‘The village then, everyone save for me and my cubs.’

‘No.’ he told her firm, his voice echoing loud in her mind. ‘There is nothing to be done, either your pantheon will bring forth salvation, or they won’t. Either way the matter is outside both of our hands.’

He waited for the connection to be cut as his awareness broadened to all the others. He told them all the same.

‘It is not outside my hands.’ The woman sent to him moments later, the connection deepening. ‘My grandmother told stories of you.’ He felt it then, a new desire blooming alongside the first. One that lured so many to his side. ‘How you share what is reaped.’

‘This is true.’ He sent back, already knowing the path that is to follow.

‘How much of it would I get back, for killing those within my village?’ Sacrifice was on her mind, the choice already made, she just needed the excuse. He could offer her any amount as long as it was enough to acquire what she believed she needed.

Instead, he offered the same deal as everyone else got when bargaining with him. ‘You will get half of what is sacrificed. To use as you see fit. As well as the knowledge to conduct miracles on your own.’

Her mind went still, then came an onslaught of thoughts. He didn’t know the details of them, but after so many dealings with mortals he knew the patten. Plans, the expectation of betrayal, or some hidden detail to be revealed at an ill-timed moment. Something, anything that would explain why he offered such favorable terms to her.

‘You think I’m being chartable.’ He sent, breaking the flow of her thoughts. ‘That what I offer is too generous, and to many that is true. When compared to those you worship.’ It would be so easy to hide the truth from her, to use and garner as much Devotion as possible before leaving her to her fate. But that is not his nature.

‘Do not think this, for if you take up bargain with me, it is a death sentence.’ The connection wavered slightly, yet came back stronger than before. The mother before him committed. ‘Those you worship will hunt you down if you side with me, and will show no mercy.’ He sent her visions, hunters of all sort, both mundane, and unnatural. ‘You’ll need the power I give, just to live a little longer.’

She remained quiet, playing the illusion of rethinking her choice. But the connection didn’t change, her mind was made up.

‘Start small.’ He advised, filling her mind with the information she needed to both perform simple miracles, and a construct a crude shrine to him. ‘Livestock, or critters you can find in the forest. That way you will have the strength to overpower the heretics around you.’ He emphasized that point in her mind. The path she wanted to head down. All those she once cared for, trusted, would be her enemy. People who would slit her throat if they found out what she was doing.

Still the connection didn’t waver, it bloomed and before him he witnessed another become a follower of his. He saw her then, old, ten or elven, easily passed her prime. And obviously worn-out.

The hut she inhabited needed some work. Which meant she was mostly on her own. Seeing this, he sent her suggestions of what he could do for her, but the not the knowledge to do it herself. He’d already sent to much, given the way she massaged her temples. If he kept pushing her mind, filling it with concepts not her own, nor allowing her to reconcile with it. She would end up snapping, and he had no use for mad followers.

‘You should rest, allow the knowledge I’ve bestowed you time to settle.’

She looked upward, gazing at the ceiling, something mortals often did when speaking with gods. ‘Why are you helping me so much, I haven’t done anything for you yet?’

‘Yet is the key word,’ he sent back, and more of the truth. ‘Plus, you’re my follower now, I treat my own with care.’

She lowered her head, lost in thought, and alone in a hunt of youngsters. He could tell they are all she has left. He’d seen it before, the men and young boys leave, seeking glory. The war to the north east was luring in so many. Most would end up as labors, those with too much thinking ability, or refused to obey would find themselves allowed to reach the battle grounds. There they will die, never once earing Wargain, or any of his son’s attention.

‘You need only to pray and I will answer, sometimes with a voice, or with the knowledge you seek.’ He added before removing his attention to the follower. So many more called to him, similar requests, the beginning steps of desperate bargains.

He could have strung them along, promised their ever fantasy. If they worshiped him, sacrificed everything to him. But that was Wargain story. And no amount of false beliefs would change the core of him, Not his nature.

But it was changing his powers.

Over the ages sacrifices to him had become more effective, occurring him greater doses of Devotion than it had starting out. His ability to lend power, to bestow knowledge also became easier. And every wicked deed laid upon his name.

Because of this, with more believing he could save their children. The act of fighting against the force claiming ownership of the still infants lessened. Yet that had to be true for Wargain as well. Millions sending their Devotion and belief.

“You should be besting this opponent Wargain.” But the children remained still, and the plague continued to spread. If his rivals weren’t winning, then he had no chance.

Thus, he told them all the truth, every soul worshipping strongly enough to form a connection. He revealed his powerless, and that of their gods who were failing to do the same.

‘Lair.’ some said. ‘It can’t be,’ many proclaimed. They’re so desperate. Same as the woman, offers came, loyal followers of Wargain, turning his way.

‘I can’t provide what you seek.’ He sent. ‘All I can give is knowledge and the ability to collect power for your own use.’ The whispers died down, temptation quieting their minds. ‘With it you may try to find a way to save your children.’ Souls reached out to him, connections morphing into solid holds. ‘Perhaps you may find an answer, for it is not with me, I can only show the path that may lead to it.’

Malan felt his power grow, hundreds then thousands renouncing their old gods and accepting him as their new.

‘Work together,’ he told them. ‘Collaborate, maybe as one we can find the answer.’ He felt approval through the links, and before he pulled his attention, he sent the knowledge they would need to operate. That and spread the word to his Shadows, informing them of these new associates, and the likelihood they would need help.

Most would be dead in a year or two, even with his warnings. Instant access to power and knowledge always caused overly risky actions. Or worse, tendencies to get revenge. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Discipline, and restraint are self-learned skills, he couldn’t force it upon them.

“They’ll be fine.” He told himself, for a few days or weeks. Mainly because of the time it took an average follower to cultivate enough power to use miracles of the lethal variety. Once that happened, newly claimed followers often throw their cautiousness down a cliff.

Hard to be fearful and paranoid if anyone you don’t like, or if someone see’s something they shouldn’t have. Can be killed in the blink of an eye. Or have the ability to taken on multiple people and come out the victor.

That is, against mortals. Wargain summons, and the other works of his pantheon weren’t foes to be defeated by such small displays of power. Wargain continued crusade, and success at wiping out his shrines and followers made that abundantly clear.

“At least I have learned a secret about his sight.’ The wave of authority he’d felt, a claim on the lands themselves. Had generated for Wargain a beautiful map showing every spot where areas were disputed. Ever since, his rival as sent waves out with a time gap of a week. “Must be quite annoying.” Malan said grinning mischievously. “Finding that my shrines keep popping back up no matter how many you break.”

At first Wargain had kept sending out hosts of Ascendants to purge the area. Or Cycure and her avatars.

Now though, after destroying so many, and finding most small pebbles of rock. Only a single Ascendant was sent to remove a shrine.

“Waste of power though.” Malan complained, but not nearly as it should be. His nature and practice of making simple shines, made the cost negligible. Easily covered by his Sovereign Core. Yet, it still irked him some, that power could have gone elsewhere. Maybe to help a follower in need. Divines know they had need of it.

Because of the plague, the citizens of Wargain empire had entered into a fervor of zealotry. They wanted blood, for someone to pay for all the lost infants. And they’d deemed his followers to be the fitting tool to let out their frustration. The lands were swarming with makeshift bands hunting for hidden temples and cults. Some actually came upon them. And for that luck, the hunters received a swift death by hails of miracles.

Still his people were being pressed, and called to him.

‘Wait,’ he sent to so many. ‘My great work is at hand.’

For three hundred years he’s stored power, ignoring pleas, suppressing his urge to avenge his own. And refusing to lend free aid that costed him Devotion.

He did all of this in order to enact a plan that would speed up the fall of his rival. Because frankly, no amount of skirmishes and acts of sabotage on his part would stop Wargain.

His religion is too large now, self- perpetuating. The war god didn’t even have to do anything anymore, say for point and declare a crusade. But he did, that accursed god of war never ceased his activities. He would not stop till all the realm was his. And at Wargain current heading, if nothing changed. He would achieve his dream. The realm under his molten foot.

“How long would I have to wait to be free of him then?” The thought frightened him, even though he is eternal, will outlast his rivals. That didn’t mean he aspired to actually wait an eternity for it to happen.

He chunked at out a shrine, sending it hurling outward. “Why do you have to be so good at this Wargain.” he muttered in a grunt. “So damned focused.” One would think he would get distracted, or at least a little content with his work. Taking a continent was no easy feat, none had accomplished that before. Wargain should have been celebrating, resting on his laurels, letting his guard down. But no, right on to the next continent. Not a moments delay.

Malan looked towards the Sun, the harbinger of a possible doom. In a few more weeks they would know the truth. And honestly, he hoped Madness was right. It rubbed him the wrong way, one side of himself at odds with another. But to see Wargain suffer, to lose everything. How couldn’t he be excited by the prospect? That the arrogant self-centered sociopath would be brought low.

At the cost of every mortal. His followers included in that number.

He threw another stone, before rubbing his hands together, fretting over the possible future. If the end really is coming, their time short. What was he going to do?

“Lead them underground?” He thought aloud. “The rock will help insulate heat.” Plus block the wind.

A plan blossomed in his mind.

As a peddler and keeper of arcane knowledge. He has a wide variety of skills at his disposal. It would be costly, but he could keep his followers alive. With their help of daily Devotion, perhaps those under him could survive the cold.

“The enemy Malan, the enemy.” He couldn’t forget that. It wouldn’t just be the cold to deal with. But a new unknown threat. The very thought of it had his mind slow. Possibilities diminishing. If Wargain wasn’t going to be able to handle the situation, what chance did he and his kin have?

“Perhaps the pantheon will serve as a big enough distraction for us to go unnoticed.” Out of millions to slaughter, who would really notice a few thousand or more disappearing?

“Wishful thinking.” He didn’t know the enemy, so he had to assume the worst.

Sighing: “I have to talk with Madness first, get further information.”

But that too had to wait. Malan felt the last of his champions reach the mountain range to serve as their ascension. He wanted to wait longer, have a decent store of power for use after his grand act. But time was short. With Wargain pressing in on him, his followers hunted, and the emergence of a new foe, those aligning with his cause needed his support.

“I can’t be passive anymore.” He said towards the sky. “You have forced my hand Wargain, and I will make sure you suffer for it.”

------------------------

Stone shifted like water as it retreated from them. Willed away by his fellow champion Derrin. It didn’t stop till Bronduff himself had a few heads of empty space over him, even as he rose to his full height. Derrin added some cosmetic features afterward, columns with crude depictions of their god.

“You should just stick with patterns hun.” Foy voiced while lying on the stone floor covered in fur coats. Herself wrap within one. All Kolune, which looked and smelled freshly made. “Sculpting isn’t one of your skills, and I hate for Malan to be offended by such… Child renditions of him.

Derrin laughed. “Like you can do any better.” Before acting upon Foy advice, cleansing the stone of the afront to Malan’s image.

“I can’t,” she replied unashamed of the admission. “But you don’t see me going around acting as if I can.”

“They weren’t that bad.” Derrin complained defensively.

A hum of thought sounded to Bronduff right, the source Ryan covered in layers of robes and curled within a throne carved out of stone. “No, I agree with Foy, they were. Uninspired.”

Derrin huffed. “See if I make you another throne.”

“It didn’t mean offense.” Ryan responded in an honest tone, which meant he was lying. “I was only giving a helpful critique of your alluring work.”

Derrin began to giggle, and mumbled: “He thinks I don’t know.” The words weren’t aimed at any but Derrin own mind. A bad habit, which Bronduff surmised had developed due to the amount of time his fellow champion spent alone in subterrain tunnels.

“Mind sharing what’s so funny?” Ryan asked.

“Share what? Derrin replied, his befuddlement genuine.

“You said-

“Oh, don’t bother.” Foy said, interrupting Ryan. “His mind is in a thousand places, he probably doesn’t know himself.”

“What?” Derrin added helpfully.

“Nothing hun.” Foy replied. “Say, when are you going to be done?” she asked, spreading her legs. Even clothed, the invitation was obvious. That is, if Derrin had bothered to look in her direction.

“I suppose till I get bored of it.” Derrin answered, still not looking at Foy, who began to glare at the back of his head.

“Derrin,” she said in a childish voice. Only getting a hum from him rather than his undivided attention.

“Derrin!” She shouted again moments later, in her real voice, finally getting the attention she sought as he turned around and looked.

“Oh,” Derrin voiced, his miracle stopping dead, same with the stone. “Why didn’t you just say so?” He asked approaching and discarding clothing.

“Because I am a lady hun.” Foy relied, pants already removed.

“Funny.” Bronduff said looking her up and down, wondering what Derrin found attractive. Since neither of them were the same race. “I thought you were a child.”

She gave him an annoyed look. “This body is just old enough to give birth, so I’m a lady.”

“Are you sure?” Ryan added in, his gaze elsewhere. “And can you two have some decency and make another room to conduct your wastefulness.”

Foy rolled her eyes as Derrin laid on top of her, wasting no time inserting himself, then rutting. “For one,” Foy managed out with a moan. “I’ve been pregnant a number of times.” Then hissed. “Right their hun, and don’t you dare slow down.” Then returned her attention to Ryan. “And two, no I don’t have any decency, I’m over five hundred years old.” She added, then gasped out: “That died ages ago.”

Ryan sighed; his head inclined upward in a clear sign of asking their god, why?

Bronduff kept his eye on the two lovers. He’d seen the sight numerous times so he wasn’t put off by it. No, he continued to wonder what Derrin found so alluring. Foy took his focused gaze the wrong way, or did so on purpose.

“Can to join Bronduff?” She asked, before squeaking and biting Derrin on the shoulder with her buck teeth.

“No,” he answered, like so many times before. “I’m not aroused by Heon, nor by the thought of laying with a child.”

“Lady.” She retorted; the word muffled by Derrin shoulder.

Derrin chuckled. “It’s all the same really, save for tightness.” He grunted, almost bucking. “It’s all delightful.”

“Whatever you say.” Bronduff commented still watching the pair. That is till he felt a pulse of alarm from one of their sigils. All sound stopped in the chamber, to Derrin pain. Bronduff heard him whispered into Foy ear. “I was so close.” She responded by putting a hand over his muzzle, while the rest of them focused and opened their etheric eyes.

Sigils glowed around the pend that lead to a small opening. One blocked by a slab of stone. Only those of the Glen or with unnatural sight could see the runes and the riddled instructions. They heard the stone slide away seconds later, frigged air howling into the heated carven. And promptly re-shut.

A heart beat passed and Bronduff caught sight of a Heon, clocked in Kolune fur carefully peering over the lip of the edge. His etheric eye also open. Their gazes meet and Bronduff waved is old savior forward.

“Rimean.” Foy shouted thrilled, the tension in the air dispersing. “Care to join?” she asked a breath later as Derrin returned to humping her.

“Later.” Rimean grunted out, hastily entering the chamber and promptly collapsing into a pile of fur coats. The sight got a chuckle out of Foy and her lover.

“Do you run all the way here?” Asked Ryan peering over the lip of his throne to look at his fallen comrade. He got a grunt as a response, while Bronduff made his way over to Rimean. He kneeled down, pulling at the power stored within his form. Some collected into the palm of his hand. Glowing soft.

“Here,” he said, lightly tugging on Rimean shoulder to get his attention. His friend took it, breathed in deep and pushed himself upright.

“Thank you” he said. “And yes, I did.” He commented looking at Ryan. “I was at Wargain new front of war.”

Ryan gasped. “You’re mad, you didn’t rest or anything?”

The Heon shook his head. “It would have been another week or two if I had.”

The Verm threw his hands up in the air. “Does it look like we’re in a rush.” Ryan said, then pointed at other two champions in the throes of passions. Derrin howled, bucked for few second, and collapsed on top of Foy. Effective hiding most of her miniscule body, save for her head, and her annoyed look.

“Really hun?” she said displeased. “You couldn’t hold on a little longer?”

Derrin groaned pleased, unbothered by her stare. “I haven’t laid with a lass in months so, the rush took me.” He shifted about, pressed his face against hers, and gave her a lick of affection. “I’ll be ready to go again, just give me a minute.”

“You better.” Foy replied, before moving her gaze to the rest of them. “I agree with Ryan, you shouldn’t have pushed yourself, not with that unaltered body of yours.”

Rimean waved his hand dismissively. “I made some changes, it’s not as mortal as you all think.” He hummed a miracle, the layer of snow sticking to his fur coat hissing into heated air. “It was the prolonged chanting that wore on me, and the hazardous climate.”

Foy chuckled while she petted Derrin head. “Thank Wargain for all the wandering fools in the wilds. I didn’t even have to look to find a Kolune to skin.”

“Agreed.” Rimean commented, pulling his cloak around him tighter. “It also why I pushed myself. The lands are filled with hunters. Thousands are on the prowl.”

“Not surprising,” Foy added. “Half the city I left was emptying of its inhabitant, all thinking they were going to find and kill heretics.”

Ryan nodded his head, the Verm eyes glowing bright with power under his hood. “It was the same with me, lands normally empty were swarming with city folk.

“Kill any?” Foy asked. Ryan shook his head. “Waste of Devotion since I couldn’t risk forming a shrine. I used miracles Derrin passed on to me to sneak passed them. Thank you for that by the way.” Ryan added and got Derrin to smile and laugh. “It’s always fun doing that. Watching them muck about confused and fearful when odd sounds begin to happen around them.”

“It’s unfair,” Foy voiced. “All these sacrifices unguarded, yet we can’t extract the Devotion from them.”

The thought of shrines was on their minds, and while Bronduff sat next to his savior, he voiced his report. “Every shrine I’ve personally made, regardless of their location, have been destroyed.” Bronduff felt the tension in the air.

“Did you lose any orphanages?” Asked Rimean by his side. Bronduff shook his head. “I never mingled the areas, too much risk.

“Wise.” Rimean replied, and they both heard Ryan sigh. “You don’t have to rub it in do you?” The Verm complained. “Bad enough I’ve probably lost half my following.” That got all of them to stare.

“Oh don’t you all act surprised,” Ryan stated. “It was my role to form a large host, armies to carry out Malan will. It was only natural for them to center around a shrine to him. So as to make offerings easier to conduct.”

Derrin hummed in thought, before rising and holding Foy in a tight embrace. “I recall Malan mostly telling us to disperse and keep low profiles. No armies come to mind.”

“He also said to conduct ourselves in a manner that would best spread his religion.” Ryan pointed hastily. “And with my race nature ability to breed quick as grass. Its only right for an army of my kind to come about, ready to spread throughout the land to cleanse it of heretics.”

“Right,” Foy said in an elongated tone. “Even though my kind is the faster breeders, yet you don’t see my sect consecrated into holdings.”

Ryan tensed, and sat upright in his oversized throne. “My people need a civilized society to be comfortable. Heon.” He said strongly. “We can’t just mingle with the land and be at peace with it, their most be structure, ordered, settlements, cities.” He hissed… Then sighed from the sight of Foys large grin.

“Even after all this time, it always amazing and amusing to see you get so hair raised about the subject of breeding.” She said, pleased.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Ryan said tired. “When your kind is constantly bragging about it. And your supposed destiny to fill the lands with such numbers all will bow before you.”

“Really?” Foy said in mock surprise. “I thought that was your kind.”

Ryan hissed, and Bronduff sighed.

“It’s both of your kind.” He added to the conversation, getting looks from the two of them. And Derrin, who nodded, then yelped when Foy bit into his shoulder again.

“You’re just afraid that one day the Kolune time on top will come to an end.” Ryan said in that confident tone all Verm used when it came to the topic of numbers. Which with how things were going, is true.

Kolunes as a whole never kept up with the breeding of others. It was only because Wargain was a Kolune shaped god, and naturally held them as the highest in society. That and their much larger size, and bodies better tooled with acts of violence.

“I’m not afraid of that.” Bronduff responded truthy, since he didn’t care about who was on top, as long as his kin were allowed to live their lives as they wished. “As long as Wargain remains, Kolunes will hold the leash of power. However, our numbers are going to take a dip.”

Many of every race would be lured towards the east, but it would be his kind in particular that would be the most pulled by it. Conflict is in their blood, the need to fight for dominance or control, it’s a central part of them and Wargain society. Many Kolunes were going to die, while the rest of the races would swell in number.

“True, True.’ Ryan commented and looked towards Rimean. “How is it going in the east?”

“Well, for Wargain that is.” Rimean answered. “His armies are taking lands quickly, or had been. By the time I left whatever pantheons calling that realm their own had finally committed to the fight.”

“That’s good,” Foy said, while Derrin nodded his head and said: “It will distract the war god, celestials know he’s been looking for an honorable fight.”

Which Malan had been denying the pantheon. Even now, with his secs taking worsening losses, their god remained dormant. “Should I inform Malan you’ve arrived?” Bronduff asked, looking down at his savor.

Ryan nodded. “My absence has delayed his divine grace long enough.”

“Wait a moment.” Foy said. “Hun would be so gracious as to perform a cleansing miracle on us.”

“Of course, of course,” Derrin said, letting go of her allowing the both of them to stand up. He hummed, eyes glowing bright. The area pulsed with power and in instant they and everything within the chamber become pristine.

Bronduff felt refreshed, the filth he’d not known clinging to him gone without a chase. Fur, clothing, armor, even the rocks around them had a polish of cleanliness.

“I love that miracle.” Foy said before promptly putting her pants back on.

“Malan taught it to me.” Derrin informed, following her example. “After he answered my summon and noticed I was covered in filth.”

“You savage.” Ryan said appalled. “You’re of his race, how could you present yourself before him as a mongrel?”

Bronduff was of like mind, it must have shamed Malan to see a Dargown in such a state. Especially after the visions his god had shown him of the past. When Malans city was a shining jewel. A place of divine wonder where those of his race lived.

“I didn’t stink,” Derrin said defending himself. “I was covered in dust. I had found an abandoned chamber filled with lost tomes.” The miracle worker looked upward, his mind elsewhere. “There was so much lost knowledge I couldn’t help myself. I ended up going through everything before making a shrine and presenting my findings.”

Foy patted Derrin leg, bring the Dargown back to the present. “It fine hun, we know you’re not filthy, theres no need to provided excuses. Isn’t that right Ryan.” She added staring, and daring him to counter her.

“Quite.” Ryan said with a hand motion, before turning his attention to Bronduff. “I think we’re ready now, else there’s something else.” None voiced an objection.

Bronduff closed his eyes, emptied his mind, and thought to his god, calling to him. ‘All of us are here lord, what is it you need of us?’

Instantly he felt a presence fall over him, caring and warm. ‘First to answer a question.’ their god sent, and not only to him, but the other four as well.

‘Do you five wish to become gods?’