High up in a tree, sitting on a branch and allowing his legs to sway freely in the air. Malan reflected over the many visions that had been sent to him in quick intervals.

The other Wonderbringers had answered, reports of their findings and action thus flowed to him. Bronduff had come first, his executioner had been decisive. After feeding on many battles, he had found and taken control over a small tribe of Kolune struggling to survive. Rather than fighting the many tribes in the area, Bronduff had instantly moved on to the next phase. He was leading his small cohort back to the crater, where he would find, or make a path for them that would take them to the base level of the pit.

Next had come Ryan, same as Bronduff he found and feed upon the dead., since each of them had been bestowed the secret to do so.

Unlike Bronduff however, Ryan hadn’t gotten himself involved in the local clan wars, which there were many. Small tribes, with equally small gods, fighting over territory. The Verm while feasting on skirmishes, seek out its own kind, searching for places that would suit his people. A cave or gap in the earth that would lead to the depths below. He had found one, and was in the process of converting stray Verm he came across.

It wouldn’t be long till Ryan had a following of us own. While the shape of his power had been purposely diminished. Ryan out of all of them was going to have the easiest time amassing a religion, he was their foundation, their key to success in the beginning. The simple-minded mortals would fall to his words easily, be guided to the crater and start new Aronta. So Malan was a tad annoyed Ryan had been wasting time searching for Verm in general, rather than converting any mortal he came across. But he’d pushed the feeling aside. He would have done the same if he saw hints of his people, and he wasn’t the only one.

Foy had acted in a similar fashion. From her report she had reverted back to the appearance of a Heon, and was in the process of stealing mortals from other neighboring religions. Her abilities and poisons were alluring to certain members of her race. While she gathered souls to her cause, her was actively using her new miscreants to sow death for her to feed upon and weaken larger tribes. For now, she had remained mostly an unknown, a fact thanks to him because of the findings he had sent to her. But her acts of aggression were beginning to be noticed and get certain clans to band together, especially the small ones.

Still, she was making good progress and if she wanted to, could head for the crater with those she had gathered.

The latter part was also the same for Rimean, the wandering healing and guide. After feeding on the dead, he had used his gifts to care for the living. Those left to die, or groups wary from battle, were healed and offered a new way, a place free of rending wounds and ceaseless conflict.

Though small he had formed a religion of like-minded individuals. So far he had avoided all conflicts with other tribes, his group constantly on the move searching for others to heal and bring into the fold. It wasn’t always easy based off the visions. Most tribe were hostile, willing to attack an outside group without much provocation if they thought they could win. But for now Rimean was keeping those under him safe, his miracle talents suited for the task.

But he had remarked that if the aggression continued, he too would be heading for the crater, where those he had gathered could be safe while he went out forming another group. Given the state of the visions, and endless hostiles he was seeing. It was a safe assumption that Rimean was already headed for the crater.

The foundation of Wounder already beginning to coalesce.

An important part had been found too, the center piece. Derrin report had Malan heart blooming with joy, for a moment at least, till the facts settled in and he sensed that history might repeat itself again.

‘I found our people,’ Derrin had reported, excitement abound within the visions. ‘But they’re not the same,’ came the warning. ‘They’re still smart, as is to be expected from our people.’ Derrin had sent with pride, his fellow Dargown thrilled.

Unlike himself, Derrin had never gotten to experience Aronta. A time before the fall and enslavement to the Pantheon of Nature and later subsumed into Wargains empire after the Natures meet their own end. All Derrin had to go off of was the tales and pieces of Knowledge Malan had given him.

‘But they uh.. don’t match what you told of our people.’ Malan had felt his godly nerves tense at those words. ‘They’re belligerent, arrogant, obsessed with controlling others. And while still civilized, well past the development of other tribes, they don’t seem to be passioned with understanding creation. At least not all-encompassing, its more focused on control and destruction.’

The revelation hadn’t set well with him, to hear his people were different, that the dream of bringing about Aronta as it had been before was unrealistic.

It was heavy blow, but not a surprising one.

The moment he’d saw the changes in other races, he knew the Dargown would be the same, but for them to have such offensive traits?

That he had not expected.

In time these bad habits could be breed out of them, the more docile and open minded allowed to breed in greater numbers. But that would be slow, and while he could weave flesh, make miraculous changes. The brain, the mind, that was a dangerous organ to mess with, any rushed act would mostly lead to death or an unwanted outcome.

Sighing and eyeing the forest with passive eyes, he made peace with the fact that uplifting his people back to what they were before, was going to be a long-drawn-out act of love.

One Derrin and his son Axel were committed to doing themselves, given the reports. They had made contact, were doing their best to weave themselves into the culture, whether the original god like it or not. If that failed, they would begin leading away individuals interested in the wonders they could bring and share.

Everything was moving forward, the foundation being lain, it made him happy, but also disappointed in himself. The others had already gained followers, while he was still without any.

Sure some of their actions were risky, full of possible failure, but they were making progress.

‘Am I being too careful?’ He wondered.

He had power to act now, could force what he wanted, but was that the best route, or did it not matter? If he retreated after gaining a few promising souls, could he avoid any repercussion? Or was that short term thinking?

Glor was a problem that would continent to grow, no one around was equal enough to fight him alone, and the problem would only get worse. The visions showed other problem individuals, religions already showing signs of winning out.

Problems, problems all around, but what was he to do?

‘Short term gain for long term pain, or short-term pain for longer term gain.’ How it spun in his mind, such a tempting thought, such a lie.

The belief he knew how things would go, that all would spin to his desires, his plans. Yet only a few days in and the truth shined so bright as to blind him.

The realm was different, gods many, and everything moving to its own tune. He was not important, not a force feared, a known entity mortals easily flocked to.

He was just one of many others, and one that didn’t have a single mortal to his name. A name not even known; he was not special anymore, even in that corrupted sort of way.

He was nothing.

‘Nothing,’ it rang in his mind. Goaded him to act, to make himself anew, or let the realm know once more of the Peddler of Wonder, the Healer and Caretaker, the Harbinger of the bright future of Wonder.

‘I should be acting not hiding.’

Should be bringing about the realm he envisioned. But his time with Wargain, all the centuries of skulking in his shadows, it had caused habits.

‘Bending the realm to my will, changing the-.

No another mistake, he was being careful for a reason, he’d done this before. Had been reckless and open with his wants. It had costed him everything, and he wouldn’t make that same mistake again.

‘It’s still not easy.’ He complained.

Seeing his fellows succeeded more than him- he thought he was above it- made him feel inadequate.

Was he not the original?

Malan the keeper of Wonder?

Why was he the slowest in cultivating it? Why were mortal not calling his name, begging for his salvation?

‘Because they don’t know me,’ he thought toward the woods. ‘And won’t till I decide.’

He pushed down the impulse to act rashly.

Celestials, if the gods knew what he could do, the miracles at his fingertips. Glor would be forgotten, they would hunt him down. Even the simplest of them would be aware enough not to let the likes of him gain a following.

‘Just a little bit longer.’ He couldn’t rush, let the others do that. He needed to be careful, just so he didn’t cause centuries worth of grief for himself again.

He wouldn’t allow his name to be married with omens and woes, if Wonder was to flourish his name had to be reverent, a prayer spoke with joy and promised protection. Not something spoken in the dark by those watching their backs.

And with how things were going, the former was becoming true. With his return, Myock accompany him, the pantheon of two had become three.

A few visions of what transpired had both Kolune and Stron in agreeance that Myock should be welcomed, followers or no. Glor strength had both gods warily, Prost the greater of the two. He cared deeply for his followers, truly saw them as his kin. He wanted them safe and Glor was making that an impossibility.

As Malan had envisioned, the fear of a greater foe made the gods he’d come into contact with malleable. Enough that Prost had welcomed Myock in a way few others would. The elemental god was worked into his religion, was actively being worshipped by Prost own followers.

The bonds of this fledgling pantheon were strengthening, along with a true society.

Myocks abilities were perfect when given guidance. A wonderful foundation to start a real village.

He glanced behind, eyes zooming in on the work. The village was encircled within stone walls now. Simple things, merely raised stone, there was no craftsmanship to it. Nor the gate, which was blocked by a large boulder that was fused with the walls, but could be undone when needed. He didn’t like it, given the process was a waste of Devotion every time the act was done, but Prost had been adamant, he wanted their people safe.

Their people.

The intention had been clear, Prost saw him as another part of this growing society. Malan had only to accept and would be instantly incorporated. He would gain a following, more gods. But he hadn’t, despite Prost attempts, it was too soon and he was already part of a Pantheon.

‘They still need time to see,’ he thought. Right now the tribe was that of survival, of forces coming together to ward off outside threats. It had no philosophical view of the realm, did not understand the concepts of Wonder chaos and order. More importantly they would not die for said belief. They didn’t have it in them, such a concept was foreign and undistilled into their minds.

Given time this would change, it was already starting, and none of the primitives were aware.

With every trivial secret he gave, it made their eyes open a little wider. They became a little more eager to learn, to imagine, and think of possibilities.

He really did want to bring Prost, Stron and Myock into the fold of his pantheon. But he couldn’t be quick about it, they had to be shaped. And there was no better tool for that than the mortals who were growing increasingly intrigued by the changes his knowledge brought.

Changes that were keeping them safe.

Below him, shuffling quietly through the brush, small parties of Heon were about. The massacred that had occurred by ending the Masked ones had for a short time led to an absence of them in the area. But that was done and now the savages were back looking for more worthy foes to vanquish.

Careful surveying the land he took stock of the amount, five groups.

Those that made their number were all young, even by the standards of tribal people. Younglings eager to make a name for themselves and continue the growth of their unsustainable society.

Bracing himself, Malan leapt high into the air and landed on the foliage covered floor. Long strides took him back to the village yet to be noticed. Passing through the stone wall, and domain, Malan swept his gaze over the Kolune huddled together within newly made stone huts.

It was a warming sight, seeing culture beginning to blossom. A shame it would soon be threatened.

Reaching out with his will he sent a vision to the pantheon of Kolune. Prost appeared seconds later, standing on top of the wall and looking out into the forest.

“Do you think he will come?” Prost asked.

“Only if there is a foe threating enough.” He answered, given Glor had only shown himself when Myock began slaughtering all in sight.

“We aren’t ready if he does,” Prost said.

“Contingences have been made,” Malan added, the village surrounded by stone wasn’t a death trap for the denizens within. A large and long tunnel had been made underground; one the entire tribe could use to flee if the worse came to pass.

It would allow Prost, Stron, even Myock to fight Glor without worry of their followers. Yet as Prost mentioned none of them thought they would win the battle. Glor had too many followers on his side, too many empowering him with Devotion. No direct assault was feasible at the moment.

But that would change as time passed, the longer Malan was given to advance the Kolune, and allow Glor to threaten the surrounding lands, the better their odds became.

“Such words you use,” Prost voiced. “Contingences, the more I’m around you.” He motioned to the village. “The more you teach, the clearer it becomes that you are from something... complicated.”

He had been forth coming with knowledge, what was required and possible for the mortals to grasped. Which wasn’t much in truth, mostly the material. He dared not test their minds with anything arcane. Even the works performed by Myock were bestowed miracles. The Mortals merely prayed and Myock acted, the former having no understanding on how the latter functioned, or the fact they could do the same on their own.

If Madness had been here, the land would be filled with the crazed, minds broken by the simple looks of concepts so beyond their norm.

“As you call me Prost, I am a harbinger of things that will come to pass. I am advancement.” Malan said. “An entity that empowers growth and upliftment, while Glor seems only aimed at destroying.”

“Your visions do show that.” Prost said. “Glor wants us all dead, wants our flesh to feast upon, our bones to make tools of. So, Harbinger. Do you have more wisdom to share?”

‘The things I could show you.’ Malan thought. ‘The things we could do.’

“I have some,” he answered instead, mundane things such as tools and amor, or the cultivation of crops and meat farms. “But the mind,” Malan said pointing to his head. “Can only take so much at once.” The tolerance of mortals, even with them empowered by Prost with high thinking, was abysmally low.

“More head chills then,” Prost commented.

Malan hummed, it had been a mistake on his part, with the acceptance of Myock he had gotten a little carried away. Helping Prost try to bestow visions of improved shields, those made of stone with vines woven in to serve as arm bindings. He may have gotten a little to intricate with the work. It hadn’t helped that he laid within the plans of making axes as well, it had almost pushed many over the brink. The act had led to Kolune groaning and grasping at their heads as their minds frayed.

“That is the consequence, your followers are being pushed to adapt faster than is normal.” He said leaping and standing relatively near Prost on the wall. “If they do not-

“We will end,” Prost finished.

‘Oh you are such an understanding god.’ Malan thought as he gazed at the forest, saw the Heon through the leaves as they slowly scouted the area. Some would stumble upon the village if they kept to their current course.

“They will be here soon, though I doubt any will try to attack,” Malan said. The high stone walls would be an obstacle that would make their minds go still. He was sure that the Heon wouldn’t even know its function or that Kolune hid on the other side. That is till the Heon got a good sniff of the air and noticed the scent of their prey. But even then, they had nothing to combat thick rock. Not without godly blessings.

Which Glor would provide, and the Heon would be bestowed strength, not enough to break rock. But certainly enough that the hairs would try to leap over the wall. And when they did, they would be in for a life ending surprise.

The village didn’t just start at the walls edge, there was a sufficient gap that was filled with stone spikes. Glor might be able to change his flight midair with the use of Devotion, but morals wouldn’t have the skill. They would jump and find themselves helplessly falling into a death trap.

“Right,” Prost spoke. “This... change will make them hesitant. They will retreat and bring great numbers. Glor might come because of it.” The god of protection did not favor the situation his clan was in, if given the choice Malan was of the mind Prost would have tried to bargain with Glor. Be spared through submission and become a tamed god. But Glor wasn’t the type. They were prey, and prey only had one purpose.

“That is all planned for.” He voiced, Glor would be coming for them no matter what they did, as long as they remained in the open that risk remained. A better place had to be made, one that forced Glor into an unfavorable situation. Say underground in confined tunnels where his mobility was limited.

Myock and Glor fight had been very illuminating. Glor was skilled, a terror to face when up against another brawler. but Malan was not new to fights between gods. Everyone had their strength and weakness. And Glor for all his smugness, was a fragile thing, he avoided and deflected all blows, used open space to always stay on the move and remained hard to track.

If the village was underground, as well as the fight, Glor might on his own accord refuse to show.

“If we keep to the course I have provided, then your people will have the best chance to survive this predator.”

For the first time Prost took his eyes off the forest, aimed his sight on the spot where the hidden entrance to the underground had been made. “It is best to leave now.” The Kolune said, and while wise, it was not necessary, not yet.

“Perhaps, but we need to know how well your people will fair against the Heon.” Now endowed with shields, and axes of stone, the Heon would face opponents as armed as they. No longer would they get to stick spears of wood into vulnerable flesh. Stone would block them and without their easy means to bleed larger foes, the Heon would see just how monstrous Kolune could be in a fight.

“Battle needed.” Echoed Stron voice as he formed within the Glen. He stood on the wall with them, a black silhouette promising violence. “Followers tempered.’ He added.

“They can’t stand too much tempering Stron.” Prost voiced, his gaze returning to the forest. “There’s too few of them compared to our foes.”

Seventy-five in total, in contrast to Glors hundreds. Prost was in the right to be nervous of the disparity, of the amount of Devotion Glor was getting compared to them.

“He can’t sustain such numbers forever.” Malan said reminding both gods of what Glors continued path would lead to.

“He doesn’t need forever to end us.” Prost countered, which was true, but unlikely. They weren’t trapped, most, if not all would escape if Glor ever launch a major offensive. But that wasn’t the point Prost was making, at their current course the pantheon wasn’t a strong enough force to counter Glor.

“Matters are mostly settled now,” Malan said. “I can begin my search again for other clans in need of revelation or salvation.”

“More clans good.” Stron said while Prost himself seemed reluctant.

“We have no leads to guide you,” the latter added. “You will be gone for days at least, perhaps weeks depending on Glors expansion.” The Kolune spoke in thought, hands clenching and unclenching. “Will Devotion aid you in your search?”

He didn’t answer instantly, instead making the play of thinking. He already knew dozens of methods that Devotion would allow him to find all he required. But he’d shown Prost a great deal of what he could offer. revealing too much too soon could cause questions and concerns.

Slowly he nodded his head after a few seconds. “It may, I think.” He paused. “But I don’t know how long it will take to find others.”

His words were answered with a stream of Devotion going to him, a sizeable sum compared to the none-existent reverses coming his way. It would do for what he needed.

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

He marched for a few hours before beginning his minor miracle. The whole-time noticing pacts of Heon searching the area, or activity hunting wild game. They went after anything they could, large or small the ascended hairs consumed all things meat related. Not a moment’s thought about preserving the local stock and allowing it to reproduce.

‘This place will be barren of game.’ Give it a few weeks, and even the vermin variety would be gone. He was torn whether how much that would be a boon or curse for him. The lack of food would slow Glors worshippers, for a time. But the outcome, if the god and had a thinking mind, which he did. Would have the tribe split into many branches that would head in different directions. They would be like floating seeds, would spread Glor wider across the land. If they were allowed to grow rather than exterminated the Hunter would expand his reach and control.

‘He’ll eventually run into an obstacle.’ The visions of his Wonderbringers showed that, there were other sects of Heon causing problems, in fact that race was everywhere and out breeding the rest. They were also just as aggressive as Glor. Soon, in the terms of gods, there would be many battles to feed upon, if by then Malan hadn’t cultivated his own following.

‘I really need to get to that.’

Stopping his march, he stretched his legs and with the use of Devotion, shot up into the air, flying forth passed the curtain of leaves till he was high in the heavens.

The view, while beautiful, wasn’t revealing. The forest was monstrously thick, no one with mortal eyes would be able to guess what was going on below in its depths. Thankfully he wasn’t restricted with such limitations now that he had Devotion to spend.

If he still had his Core he would have known the location of most tribes by now. Even with the restrictive movements it would have brought. The sailing of shrines through air would have worked, as it had done before. But at the same time, it was nice to be able to wander about where ever he wished.

Still freedom or not, the loss of constant power was.. grating. It slowed everything down, dimmed the dream he had in mind.

It had him sigh, but he pushed aside the feeling of loss and went to work.

Floating about with the sparing use of Devotion, Malan increased the power of his hearing and sight. With a willed gazed we saw through the forest and witnessed the area around him for leagues as he slowly rotated in the air. The beating of hearts helped guide his aim, his long practice as a healer had him well acquainted with those sounds. It also helped that he picked up on conversations, so many. Most were the talks of mundane existences revolving around their daily troubles and concerns.

It gave him well defined picture. Glors Heon were a living river spreading out into many streams as they searched for new prey. There was a great many that qualified as that, the shift showed to him a shocking estimation of how many tribes Glor had killed off.

Passed the zone Glor inhabited, tribes were everywhere, of all races and tribal sizes.

Tail wagging and fur ruffing with joy, he memorized it all with a smile. His mental map filled with targets, enough that he stopped himself. Refusing to spend anymore Devotion on the act and remaining in flight. So he fell quickly as he phased through the branches and leaves.

Paws resting on the ground again he took a moment to gather his thoughts. While Prost was eager to bolster his tribe, Malan was sure he didn’t have in mind that including other races. Especially not Heon, regardless of their affiliation. He wanted Kolune, but many tribes weren’t, and some, some were Dargown.

His people, or those who held their likeness.

‘I’m due a meeting with the new,’ he thought. To witness firsthand the changes done to his people. A people that he had hoped to be the heart of his new religion and city.

‘I can fix them.’ He just needs a few, and with time, a decade or two of selective breeding, he could bring them back to how they had been a session before.

Nodding his head, the decision made, he acted. One moment there was only a single figure, the next multiple versions of himself split from the original. They held hands, thus remaining connected and sharing thoughts. But once the many of himself separated and headed to different locations the link would be cut. They would have to spend Devotion to send thoughts. A cost he’d never contemplated before. But now his supply was finite, it was not something that could be overlooked.

‘We’ll meet back here,’ he thought to his shards. Joined with the understanding that if trouble was at a certain level, Sendings would be allowed. Together they nodded and reluctantly, let go. The many versions of him parted at once, hurrying off to their own selected targets. Every tribe he’d found would receive a warning of Glor, know of his location and the destruction his ilk promised.

Malan himself, the main, he headed for one of the Dargown tribes, the smallest, the one who would be easiest to convert to his thinking.

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

He ran for hours, then a day, his path straight towards the clan. Being of the Glen he phased through everything; the forest treated as though it wasn’t even there. It decreased the amount of time it would have taken to reach the Dargown. Something they wouldn’t have the luxury of doing. But that didn’t matter, they wouldn’t be heading for Prost, or any other tribe.

Slowing himself into a walk, he came upon the settlement. One with walls of thick vines and thorns around it. Peering through it with godly eyes he saw half made tents and huts. This tribe of Dargown hadn’t been here long, they like Prost had been pushed out by rivals.

A truth made more evident as he got closer to the domain that surround the entirety of the makeshift village. Before he could even touch it, or announce his arrival the Dargownian god materialized in the Glen.

He smiled at the male, not only because it was a pleasant change to see another god of his likeness. But also this god was partially clothed. He had a loincloth and cloak of brown that hid a good portion of his body. Which was a grassy green.

The god of nature studied him as he approached, emerald eyes gliding across his form - they were wanting looks-

A desire for what he wore, or perhaps what he represented. Either way, the god watched his every move.

“Who are you?” the green one asked, voice demanding. “Are these your lands, have you come to claim offense.”

Such questions were said in very rude tone and similarly unwelcoming stance. Malan eagerness and thrill began to fade instantly.

“No offense.” He began stopping a few arms length away from the wall that the other god had his back to. “For these aren’t my lands,” not yet anyways. But if all went well, or generally good, they would one day. “As for who I am, a friend and harbinger of a great many things.”

“Are any of them good?” the god asked contemptuously. Malan forced a smile.

“An endless amount,” he answered. “Depending on your beliefs. But that’s ahead of us,” he continued as the other studied him. “For now, I hold warnings of a threat.” He sent his visions of Glor and his hunting children. He showed their numbers and the lands they were claiming. He displayed to the god of green how they killed everything and had no interest in talk. They would butch and feast upon the dead of the tribes not their own.

The Dargown god sighed, a mix of worry and annoyance by the tone. His eyes moved in the direction that would eventually lead to Glors village. The god said nothing, seemed at a loss, which was fair. The green one couldn’t even hold onto land.

When Glor and his children found this place, they would stampede right through the defenses and slaughter the few hiding within.

“I can help you with this problem,” Malan said regaining the others attention.

“The price for this?” The god asked, tone still unwelcoming and demeaner in a great deal need of improvement. But at least this rude individual had a thinking mind, and civilly clothed. They all were, the mortals inside wore clothing aimed at dignifying themselves.

“You are young,” he stated instead of answering and kept his voice friendly. “Your mortals the same, their belief, if they have one. Simplistic.” It wouldn’t be all that different from the rest, survival.

The Dargown of green straightened his stance, bared his teeth and unhinged his claws.

“You desire to replace me.” He proclaimed

Malan softly laughed, for it wasn’t entirely wrong. “Uplift you” he corrected. “If we can come to terms.”

“Terms?” the green mocked as he spent Devotion.

Malan followed the current of it, the way it bent creation and aimed to command nature. He didn’t move even though he know what was to unfold.

‘I ‘am an observer nothing more, I aim not to disturb anything, or be disturbed in turn.’ Those were his thoughts. So when creation acted and roots that shot up from the ground. Roots that speared through his chest, nothing happened.

The god watched him expecting a reacting, maybe dismay. He simply gave the god an awkward smile, and to make a point. Took a step to his right to showcase the roots phasing through him as if he wasn’t even there.

“It’s amusing how little understood the Glen is,” he said to the god whose postured tense. The kind people expressed when they expected a blow to come. “I didn’t realize it was such an unknown.”

During his first end, the Glen of transition was well understood, even by the Patheon of Nature. He had assumed gods knew the ways of it by default, a second nature to them since they could always see it.

But the more he interacted with these fledglings the more blatant it became that his assumption was wrong. He was tempted to explain the details to this god, but seeing such aggression from someone he’s planning to help. He decided not to.

“What is your name?” Malan asked while the nature god decide to test him a second time. More roots appeared which speared into him and tried wrapping him into a tight embrace. It all phased through like before, and after that second failure the god ceased wasting his power.

“Dainon,” the god answered proudly, confidently, as if such a name should be treated above all the other godly names he’d heard.

Comical really, seeing how few followers the god had left. A mere sixteen souls to be exact, the smallest tribe of Dargown in the area he’d seen, and one surrounded by other tribal races.

“Dainon,” Malan said repeating the name, and noticing the god in question seemed pleased by the utterance of it. ‘You will not do,’ he thought. ‘Not at all.’ Arrogance was well written on this god, even though he had recently been humbled.

“As I said before, I can and am willing to lend you aid.” He continued only because he didn’t want a tribe of Dargown to be wipe out. “For a price of course-

“No,” Dainon said instantly.

For a moment Malan smile tipped, revealing just a hint of his surprise. “You aren’t in a stable position; it would take only one tribal attack for your.’ He motioned to the vine wall. “Defenses to be undone and the mortals inside finished off.”

He’d gotten a good look when he’d used Devotion, there was one three adult males in there. Not a force that could handle even a small raid of committed enemies. Only if Dainon got involved would they survive and that was only if another god didn’t intervene as well.

“If you truly seek to lend aid, then do so.” Dainon had his head titled back slightly, was looking at him with the airs of someone who thought themselves important, and the other not.

“Out of kindness?” Malan asked while in his mind he was coming to conclusion.

“Of course.” Dainon voice confidently, acting as if he were in a position of control. “To gain such of thing from me is worth more than any material prize.” The way he said it made Malan feel that the other truly meant those words.

‘Such arrogance.’ No, he wasn’t liking this at all, it was matching Derrin own complaints, and eroding away his false hopes that maybe the Dargown weren’t as bad as they had been described. But here before him was a god that was the manifestation of a single tribe’s belief, and what he saw, how it acted. It was not something that would serve well as a foundation of Wonder.

“That’s unfortunate,” he replied smile falling “For I am in the interest of the material at the moment, not good will.” Given Dainon temperament it wouldn’t get him anything worthwhile anyways.

Dainon scuffed. “Foolish whelp, my good will is worth more than any object.”

Again the words were said in a tone of belief, the god really did hold himself to such high esteem, even with the state of his followers. Malan didn’t even want to contemplate what kind of attitude the god would be giving him now, if it actually held a powerful position.

‘He would be like Wargain, no worse, and I’ve dealt with that type more than enough.’

He turned to leave, mind set on a plan. If Dainon wasn’t willing to trade for his people, to allow him access to Dargown and steer them on the correct path of ascension. Then he would have to be more direct.

“Where are you going?” Dainon shouted at him, clearly offended. “I have not commanded you to leave or ended our conversation.”

“Well I have,” he said back without turning to look. “Perhaps the other tribes around you will appreciate the services I can offer.”

“Wait,” Dainon responded.

Malan did not. In his mind he kept telling himself to keep walking, to not turn around.

‘Anyone else, any other race, I would have already left after a few words.’ Dainon was no good, nor the mortals that made him. Their temperament would slow the spread of Wonder.

“Wait.” The god said again, “Please.” He forcefully added.

‘Don’t.’ He told himself, and yet he stopped walking.

‘Damn it.’

He glanced back to the desperate god, the act of righteous importance gone, what was left behind was a slightly hunched Dargown that eyed him coldly.

“What is it you can offer?” Dainon asked.

Malan turned fully around to face the other, a part of him still saying he should leave.

‘Some can be saved.’ They just needed his care, a helpful hand to guide them back down the correct path.

“Knowledge, secrets,” Malan answered. “A chance to rise above all the other gods around you.”

Dainon glanced back at the vine wall protecting his following. “The price?” He asked.

Malan gazed through the protection, watched the huddling groups within. Eyed certain women who were near the end of pregnancy.

“Six pups,” he answered with a smile. “And a woman.”