The college of the Bard Of Rio, Deepfalsian Dominion.

53rd of Kusha

2138 years since the new gods came.

An apprentice had been cleaning the grand hall when one of the holy instruments had thrummed. She stepped over to it, picked it up, and was lost in a vision. She awoke screaming, clawing and swatting at her own body, trying to kill things that weren't there. On the floor next to her, drawn in blood, was a map of the western half of the continent, with a single spot marked with an X.

The next day, a journeyman and pair of apprentices were sent out to find what lay at the X. The young girl was buried that same day, with the full honors of a master.

*-*-*

James' Island

53rd of Kusha

2138 years since the new gods came.

A black robed man appeared over the island James had claimed. He was tall, and perhaps a little over weight, his skin ash gray, his head bald, as was his face. He carried a slightly bent staff.

He quietly settled on the island's eastern tip, and slowly walked towards the rebuilt tower, shaking his head. Again. It was happening again. He could not directly interfere, so he had made 'arrangements'. Hopefully these new ones would do a better job than the last.

He stopped outside the tower, and watched through the wall, as the wizard inside began the Ritual of Opening. He sighed, and settled in for the long ride.

- - -

James stood in the center of the gate. He bent forward to touch his toes, his lean frame cracked a bit as the bones shifted slightly. He bent backwards, then left and right. He stretched his arms and legs, hips shoulders, and neck. A couple of sips of water, and a few deep slow breaths, and he was ready to begin the ritual.

He lit the candles in the given, clockwise (or sunwise, as they said in this world) order, skipping every third one. Then widdershins, lighting the missed ones. He filled the bowls with the prepared mixtures and placed them at the cardinal points, then added the incense at the ordinal points. Thus prepared, he stepped out of the circle, and began the chant and gestures. It would take up the next six hours of time. He hoped he wouldn't have to pee.

Over the hours he drained a dozen elemental mana crystals, pouring the power into the ritual. With each one, he could feel the gate fluctuate. One step closer to going home. At the end, one last push, and the gate cracked open. He stared at what he had wrought, and screamed.

- - -

The gray man stepped through the wall, and sighed. He twisted his staff in the middle, and a long slightly curved blade snapped out of the side. Gingerly, he stepped around the writhing mass of things that had come through the gate, invited by the mage to this, to HIS, dimension. The remains of the mage were before him. He cut the soul free of the body. “WELL, YOU HAVE REPEATED THE MISTAKES OF THE PAST. I HOPE YOU ARE PROUD OF YOURSELF.”

“But...It was supposed to take me home!”

“IN A WAY, IT HAS. NOW LET US RETURN YOU TO YOUR WORLD.” The pair left the world behind. And James...Went home.

*-*-*

Across the Universe, just around the corner.

i-1=x

between then =/= now.

FNORD!

Ihas, the god of destruction, swung his heavy mace, smashing the tentacle that was grasping for him. The sun god, Makell, blasted the things body with concentrated holy sunlight. It shrank back, burning. Zuston, goddess of conquest, stabbed her war spear through the bulbous clump of eyes, into the nerve cluster that acted as a brain. The thing from beyond screamed, thrashed, and died.

Another dozen of the things were trying to claw their way through the rip in the dimensional membrane; then, they backed off.

“Shit! It's happening again!” Dhosin, god of rock and stone, cried, suddenly hemorrhaging bursts of power. “Stop it!” He dropped his simple miners pick, and started to scream.

*-*-*

My Dell, Western Wilds.

3rd of Anael, The First month of Snow.

2138 years since the new gods came.

The snow is lovely to watch. A herd of deer has crossed into the Dell. I doubt the will leave for a while. I hope we don't become overrun. Mike spoke with his father the other day, assuring him he was doing well. I wish I could talk to my father again. Melancholy is an unpleasant feeling.

The Knights have fallen into a routine, and we have followed them in it. Awake before dawn, run the valley from end to end. Breakfast. Swordplay and other exercise until noon. Lunch. Personal pursuits. Dinner. Evening prayers (which I avoid). Nightcap. Bed.

It is rather nice.

9th of Anael,

One of the Knights is pregnant. A wedding will be preformed on the morrow. I have been asked, and wish to refuse, to do the ceremony. Without a proper priest, as the lord of the land, it falls on me none the less.

10th of Anael,

A middle aged cleric, bearing the horns of a ram on his vestments, came into the Dell a scant three hours before the wedding. The (not so happy) couple were married on time, and departed for the southern end of the Dell for their honey moon.

The priest will be staying for the rest of the winter, and conducting the evening prayer. Of course, he is the head (and only) priest of Ghondish.

Bah. Stupid, but occasionally useful, priests.

12th of Anael,

The couple are back. They are much more cheerful now. And happy. I will not ask them what happened.

21st of Anael,

Lightning snow. Very pretty and delightful to watch. I wish we would get some snow to cover the dead grass and such. I worry about the natural order being disturbed.

22nd of Anael,

F the gods. It rained last night. Torrential downpour. I'm glad the roof held. The Dell is a bit flooded, but the plants liked it. I wonder if the gods are reading my journals? I hope not. Assholes.

- - -

Standing above the Dell, looking through the rain clouds, a pair of gods converse.

“He asked for water! Why is he mad at us?” Yhdos, the god of seasons, asked.

“He's the Heretic. Of course he's mad. He's always mad.” Redall, the god of the hunt, replied.

Yhdos shook his head, “Truth.”

They returned to watching the downpour.