009 The Not-Immortal Blacksmith II – Religion

Newleigh, Dwarven kingdom of Hasandri

54th of Samue, the month of Planting.

2290 years since the new gods came.

Newleigh is a mostly Dwarven city of some ten thousand souls above ground. Buried in the foothills of the mountains it reaches 10-15 degrees above freezing, a cool, but comfortable temp in the summer. There are only two large temples here, Bjorn's and the Idiots. The city only dates back a bare thousand years, so there is no real deep history here. As one would expect for a dwarf city, the place is well kept, and maintained. Most crime is blamed on the travelers that come through.

All of the dwarves in the caravan departed as soon as we arrived. Brandywine and I will be spending tomorrow exploring the city, and looking into the local religious issues.

55th of Samue,

The good news is that the cult of the heretic is not present in town. The bad news is that the place is about to explode like a delayed fireball spell that has become unstable. I had a chat with the bishop of Bjorn. He at least understands the stakes, unlike some of his underlings. I have scheduled a meeting with the full assemblage of clergy for the day after tomorrow. I hate this.

1st of Kielat, First month of Summer,

My meeting has been called off on account of riot.

- - -

The first bottle of flaming oil flew through the downtown bars window. It exploded upon contact with the floor, splashing the liquid fire across several nearby tables and patrons. The more furry patrons screamed and flopped onto the floor to roll around and try to put the magically enhanced fire out. It didn't work.

The second bottle hit the front door, and burst. The entire front of the building was soon ablaze. As Maxwell had been intending to enter said bar, he was less than pleased at the sudden turn of events. “Brandy? Would you please be so kind---” The sound of screams from inside interrupted his speech. “Bugger. Let's go!” He charged through the fire, and into the bar, Brandy hot on his heels.

“Brandy! Kill the fire, I'll help the injured!” Max ran to the nearest victim, and began to smother the flames, only to find that it wasn't working.

Brandy buzzed to the ever larger pool of flame on the floor, and started her casting. Her basic spell failed to do more than disrupt the flames. “Max? We may need to just let it burn out.”

“Get the patrons out. I will do what I can.” Max yelled in return. He stood from the floor, ignoring the dying gnoll in front of him, and began to chant in a deep voice. As Brandy grabbed a pile of people, he dug down inside himself, and felt the power bubble up to his call. Using words he had never consciously learned, he gestured to the bar in general, and kept chanting. A bubble of power burst forth, blasting frozen air across the space, throwing furniture into walls, and tossing cups and plates to their doom. The pools of fire froze solid, leaving charred bits and ice sculptures of flames behind. Max righted a chair, and sat heavily upon it. “Well that was new...”

- - -

2nd of Kielat,

The town is smoldering from the violence of last night. Five houses, an apartment building, two shops, and 11 bars, all burned to the ground. 164 dead, including 23 children. I am pissed. The Bishop is dead. The abbot and I will be having a chat in the morning.

3rd of Kielat,

The chat went...well? I think I put the fear of Bjorn into him. I may have gone a bit far...No. No I didn't.

- - -

The Abbot impacted the wall. Again. Max was getting annoyed with the wall to wall counseling he was having to resort too. “I am Maxwell the Heretic. Nothing more. I am not a hells cursed god. I am not a prophet. I am just a cursed man.” He repeated the words for the third time, then walked over to where the abbots still form lay on the hallway floor. He grabbed the abbot by the foot and dragged him into the Nave of the temple, and dropped him into a pew. Dozens of clergy and worshipers stared at the scene.

Max took a deep breath, “Listen up you blood sacks! My name is Maxwell Smithson. I am 'The Heretic'. Any questions so far?”

The people in attendance all shook their heads.

“Good. Now let me tell you a story. The gods, in their ignorance, made me immortal. The end.”

The attendees all nodded.

“Good.” Max said. “Don't make me come back, you won't like it.” He walked out.

- - -

4th of Kielat,

Funerals started today. I am disgusted at the number of extra small coffins in the processions. I am beyond angry.

The town mayor is missing.

6th of Kielat,

The funerals are over. The graveyard is almost full. The mayor's body was found buried in his basement. It had been there for seventy years. Something is going on here...

8th of Kielat,

News has filtered in from other provinces. Most are in a state of civil war. For some unholy reason Bjorn is banned from interfering. I am extremely unhappy. I don't know what to do, where to go next, or anything. Brandywine is frothing at the mouth. Displeased. Exceedingly upset.

10th of Kielat,

The Abbot of Bjorn, now high priest, stopped by today and apologized to me. We had an actual discussion. Apparently during his nap he had a realization...epiphany?...of sorts. He didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to know. Religion makes my skin crawl.

My pity party is over. We are heading to Barakib next; one hundred seventy three miles; and from there we will follow the above ground road south to the capital city of Louthfield. We will stop in the main cities on the road, and I will “Preach” my truth. I can't believe I'm writing those words without it being a joke.

11th of Kielat,

We bid farewell to Newleigh this morning. Travel in the mountains is slow and cold. Switchbacks, narrow bridges, rock slides, it's a wonder anyone actually travels through them. The travelers rests are large caves hewn into the mountain, capable of housing two dozen wagons and their assorted accompaniment. I doubt we will see temps above freezing outside of the mines.

15 miles today. I fear this will be the average. Around another 11 days to go.

12th of Kielat,

We are spending tonight at a small clan mine. Beautiful supports in the main shaft. Reinforced stone with mountain pine gilding. We traded news from Newleigh, and stories of our travels. I noticed that the family altar was bare. When I asked, I was told of rumors about militias roaming, and burning out mines of 'The Wrong Religion'.

I am reminded of Tristan cursing the “Protesters and Cathartic” churches 'back home'... Apparently the two religious groups fought several bloody wars. I don't get why, they were the same religion...

15th of Kielat,

Religious militias be damned to the deepest hells. Idiots.

- - -

The militia was searching the travelers rest. Max and Brandy sat on their wagon, awaiting their turn. As they were finally waived forward, the dwarf in charge started asking questions, “What Gods do you follow?”

Max and Brandy looked at each other for a long moment, before Max replied, “Well, that's a hard one to answer. Are they heading to a church or a bar? If it's a bar, then that one, obviously. If it's a church, then probably not. Unless it has exquisite architecture.” Brandy launched herself to the ceiling.

Looking through half closed eyes, the dwarf responded, “You know what I meant, human.”

Max shrugged, “Fine. I follow none of them. Of the hundred or so known gods, I follow none at all. I like Bjorn, and the small god Sarah of Shadow, but the rest can go jump.”

The dwarf's eyes bulged, “You sound like a follower of the Heretic. You know what we do to the likes of them here?”

Max sighed, and under his breath muttered, “I'm about to find out...”

“We kill them!” The dwarf struck, stabbing up under Max's ribs into his chest. He twisted the blade as he pulled it out. “We got one for the burn pile tonight!”

Brandy alighted on the dwarfs shoulder, “You probably shouldn't have done that...”

Red blood spilled from the wound, and the dwarf laughed. Brandy smiled as the blood flow slowed over the course of seconds, then stopped. The dwarf jumped down from the wagons running board. He took two step, then looked around as all those around him stopped moving, and stared. “What are you lot staring at? We have unbelievers to purge!”

The surrounding dwarves, militia and not, pointed behind him. He slowly turned too look. In the now silent rest area, the 'Ka-Klick' was loud. As the dwarf stared at the towering inferno of rage that was Maxwell, time seemed to slow as the boom sounded and the third of an ounce slug of lead flew towards, into, and out the back, of his head.

When the echo of the gunshot faded, Maxwell looked around the quiet cave, staring into the faces of all present, “Who's next?”

Half of the militia screamed and ran for the entrance, the rest dropped to their knees. “Brandy? Please make sure the ones who ran are 'helped' to the bottom of the mountain.” In a flash of sparkles, Brandy chased the fleeing dwarves, gleefully laughing.

“The rest of you fanatics.” Max frowned, disgust heavy in his voice, “What in Bjorn's name do you think you are doing?”

“We were---”

Max interrupted, “Don't answer that. It was a rhetorical question. Idiot.”

The dwarf in question mumbled something that vaguely sounded like 'sorry'. From outside, the sound of terrified screams decorated the air. Max spoke again, “Listen up you morons! This is how it is. Unless you want to join your friends, I will have you swear by my Friend Bjorn, not to do this kinda shit again.”

A dwarf, not one of the militia, whispered a little too loudly to his companion, “It is. It is him! It's the Heretic!”

Max eyed to overly perceptive dwarf. “Yes. And?”

The place went deathly quiet, and Max sighed. “I will say this only once, and it is a speech that I'm sure I will have to repeat again, and again. Bugger.” He took a deep breath, and started, “I am Maxwell the Heretic. Nothing more. I am not a hells cursed god. I am not a prophet. I am just a cursed man.” He turned towards the mouth of the 'cave', “Brandy? Have you helped everyone reach the bottom yet?”

There was a loud scream, followed by, “That was the last one!”

“Good. Now get in here and explain, in great detail, that I am not a god, prophet, or any such bollocks.”

Brandy flew back inside, “If you insist. But it's more fun to watch you do it.”