The middle of a Coup in the Cathedral of Bjorn;

Barakib, Dwarven kingdom of Hasandri

24th of Kielat, First month of Summer.

2290 years since the new gods came.

The two sides looked at each other, then back at Max. “Murder?” Max took a step forward. “In These holy halls?” A second step forward. “Are you stupid?” Another step. “Are you THAT stupid?” Another step. “Are you Demons?” Another step. “Are you trying to desecrate Everything Bjorn stands for?” Another step. “I ask again, What in the Abyss is going on?!?”

A mere five or six feet from the two groups, Max shook out his arms, then pointed at the nearest 'Heretic Hater'. “You. What. Is. Going. On?”

“I don't fear you, Heretic! I will see---”. Max made a gesture with his pointing hand, and the dwarf exploded into chunks.

“NEXT.” Max pointed at another member of the same group, “You. Answer me.”

“My faith is strong. I will never---”. Another gesture from Max, and chunky dwarf chum was made.

“They are of the Anti-Heretic faction within the church, dearest Prophet.” One of the dwarves from the losing side said with a shallow bow. “They have started a Coup.”

“Bugger.” Max looked up to the ceiling, and raised his voice, “Alright jackass! You want me to kill them all? Because that's what I'm about to do here!”

The group of dwarves inhaled sharply. For a moment nothing happened, then a deep, low voice echoed through the room, “I would that you spare my children, old friend of mine.” All of the dwarves fell to their knees and wept.

“Fine. You owe me a keg for this!” Max yelled at the ceiling. There was no response. “Stupid gods. Stupid coup. Stupid religions.” He waited, left foot tapping the floor, for the dwarves to compose themselves. It took a while, but they eventually did.

“Listen up you lot. We need to end this shit. And end it now.” Max looked over the assembled group. “Are you with me? Or will you fail your god again with your petty squabbles?”

The guards, seeming together again, saluted. “Okay. Good. Lets go wreck some idiots.” Max led them deeper into the cathedral. “Try not to kill anyone? I don't want to listen to Bjorn cry about it, like he did when the Ungle mine collapsed.” He shook his head, and under his breath added, “That was two weeks of him moping around my bakery, and drinking the bar dry.”

- - -

It took over three hours to settle down the coup. The death toll among the clergy and guards was a staggering 247 dead or injured. Maxwell let his anger be known by yelling and swearing at the full assembly of dwarves, almost all of whom had been tied up. The cathedral's Nave had never heard such language come from the lectern. “You are all stupid morons! What in the 'doqon wasaq ah nacas moron xaar madax?' ’’ He switched to ancient dwarven halfway through his tirade.

The assemblage had started by just looking at him, anger in most eyes, but as his tirade continued, including such insults as “Half-men, Grit Sucker, Short stack, Rat-kin fornicators” and the like, their eyes started growing wider and wider, until Maxwell actually noticed. “What? What are you looking at?”

One of the guards from his first encounter pointed behind Max, “Um...Look behind you?”

Max turned and narrowed his eyes. Where his shadow should have been was the oversized shadow of a very recognizable Dwarf. “Oh. You. Next time I see you, I'm kicking you so hard in the left nut, that your bishops, priests and deacons will feel it for weeks!”

A cold, gravelly laugh echoed from the back of the gathering, and a large dwarf stood up, the ropes falling from his form. He approached the lectern, stretching his large muscles. “You are going to die by my hand today, Heretic. And I am going to eat your soul.” The dwarf removed a ring from his left pinkie and let it drop to the floor. He slowly grew to three times his previous size, skin turning a sickly pale, and scales running over his entire body. His hands grew several more joints, and claws sprouted from each fingertip. His face flattened, and nose sank into the flesh leaving behind an empty slit. His mouth opened fully and revealed a double ring of sharp needle teeth, graced by a multi forked tongue.

As the demon's aura settled over the assemblage Max sagged into the lectern. “You're new around here, aren't you.” He said, drawing both of his old revolvers, marked “Colt Army Model 1860" on the barrels, and on the bottom of each grip, in a stilted hand was scrawled "For Max, T”.

“I will rip your heart from your breast, and eat it in front of your eyes!” The demon bellowed. “I will rap---” In quick succession the revolvers spoke, “BOOM! BOOM!” The demon staggered back a few steps, black blood began to pour from the pair of wounds in the front and back of it's chest. The blood sizzled where it hit the floor.

“You... You think that is enough to kill me?” The demon coughed up a mouthful of blood. “You will nev---” The paired revolvers spoke again. Bits of demon skull and brain spattered across the nearest dwarves. The demon's body fell to the stones, sizzled there for a short while, then dissolved.

“And stay down.”

*-*-*

“Our agent in Barakib has gone silent?”

“No, my lord” Vtev replied. “They have died. At the hands of the Heretic.”

“Oh...Splendid...” The Demon Lord let out a long suffering sigh. “Contact the rest of our agents. Institute part three of the plan. We need to really kick things off now, before that idiot interferes any more.”

“Yes my lord.” Vtev paused for a moment. “Do you think this will cause us difficulty down the road?”

“I don't think so. Humans are much easier to subvert than dwarves.” The Lord answered. “But just in case, once the conflict has started, recall all of our agents from the dwarven kingdoms, give them a few weeks off, then retrain them for the human kingdoms. Not Demonia. I plan to take care of them myself.”

“Very good, my lord.” Vtev smiled. And this is why I gave up the throne for Him. He may be weak of body, but his mind shines brightly, like the morning's first star.

*-*-*

25th of Kielat,

It's over. Several clerics and guards have gone to prison. I will NOT be the judge. I was asked, and said no. I refuse to be some sort of religious figure who decides someones fate. Screw that.

We will be leaving in a couple of days. Fast couriers were sent to other mines with details of the Coup.

27th of Kielat,

It's a total of 311 miles to Brigh. With 15 miles traveled today, that's about 19 days left. Where's my vacation?

30th of Kielat,

Remains of a battle on the road today. We buried the dead and dumped the rubbish off the cliff. So many wasted lives. I am become more certain that religion is pointless.

31st of Kielat,

A rockslide; a rockslide with trees mixed in; and a number of fallen trees with rocks mixed in. Barely six miles today. At least they seemed naturally occurring, as opposed to manufactured. No bodies found.

32nd of Kielat,

An almost strait road today. Complete with a low wall on the outer side of the cliff. It lasted for 5 miles, and stopped as suddenly as it started. Strange. Fifteen more days.

34th of Kielat,

We met a caravan going the other way. Took a bit to go around each other, but everyone made it. I am vaguely tempted to come back and use an earth moving spell to widen these roads, but I don't think I want to spend three hundred some days doing it.

37th of Kielat,

Ten more days. It has been 'smooth sailing' these last three of days. Glad of that.

42nd of Kielat,

A “Pro-Heretic” militia? What in the ever loving...

- - -

“Look, while I suppose I appreciate your 'assistance', just stop.” Max looked at the 40 odd dwarves. “Seriously. Just do what Bjorn says, and leave me out of it.”

“Your lordship---” a dwarf's dwarf looking fellow named Volkner started to say.

“No.” Max stared at the dwarf, “No means No. That's the end of it.”

“Very well, your lordship.”

Max walked back to his wagon, shaking his head. Brandy was training the fluffball of a kitten to be a 'War Mount'. “These people are morons.”

Brandy looked up from the kitten, who was already as large as an adult cat, “I keep telling you to just kill them all.”

“And I keep telling you that I don't need that kind of attention.” Max responded, “Besides, my wife wants me to find someone 'suitable'. I can't do that if I scare everyone away,” He took a breath, “and the sort of woman that behavior attracts is not the kind of woman I'm looking for.”

“I'm told they can be fun in be---”

“SHUT UP.”

- - -

47th of Kielat,

Tomorrow we will arrive at Brigh. While the scenery is beautiful, my appreciation of the view is waning.

48th of Kielat, Morning

Fire in a mine is a useful thing. An uncontrolled fire in a mine is a catastrophe.

- - -

Maxwell, the members of the caravan they were leading, and the forty odd dwarves who were 'no longer' a pro-heretic militia ran. Not far ahead they could see black smoke rising from the city of Brigh. Brandy, on her steed of war, had flown ahead to scout. When she returned, she had bad news to report.

“There are dead all over the streets. The above ground city is...on fire? Char? Destroyed?” She took a deep breath. Meanwhile her mount, Puff the war kitten, cleaned his ear, seemingly undisturbed by the flying. “It's bad. I didn't try to reach the mine proper.”

They ran on. As the ruins of the city loomed closer, the bodies of dwarves who had tried to flee became evident on the road. Most had been shot by arrows, but some had large ragged claw marks across their backs. Max stopped to investigate the marks, and stood up, cussing. “Demons. Thrice cursed demons.”

The gathered dwarves took and involuntary step back. “Are you sure, lo...Master Smith?” Volkner asked.

“I've seen it too often to mistake it for anything else.” Max turned back to the city, “We need to run. Every second will count if they're still here and hunting!”

Sadly, they arrived too late to save the city itself, but spent several hours rescuing the living, the injured, and accounting for the dead. Finally, as evening closed in and the injured started to die from their wounds, Max stood up strait and looked to the heavens.

“Alright. Fine. I Need a Favor!” He took a long deep breath, then spoke, “Goddess of tranquility! I cannot heal them all myself! I have run out of strength. Please, come and heal this multitude of your brothers followers!”

A soft wind blew, the smoke curled, and from the smoke stepped the goddess. She was immaculate, in an ivory dress bedecked in lace and pearls, black tresses flowing down her back in a pearl infused intricate braid. The only blemish in her looks were her red, puffy eyes, and the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Master Maxwell.” She nodded to Max, “I most sincerely apologize, but I am Required to not fulfill your request.” She bowed her head, “Really, I am sorry.” The smoke engulfed her, and she was gone.

Face red and frown fully installed, Max looked around. “Go figure. Useless.” Another deep breath, and he yelled. “Gather the wounded in as close as you can to each other.” The assemblage followed his orders, even as some of the wounded expired. Once the wounded, and a few of the dead, were gathered close, Max again yelled, “Grab hands in a circle. Yes, even you Brandywine.” Brandy, still astride her 'War Mount' complied.

Hands were held. Max concentrated. His weakened bubble of power slowly rose to the surface of his conscious mind. He felt those around him, and began to draw from them as well. Brandy's bright green, and the earth tones of the dwarves, he made them his own. Unbeknownst to him a whisp of a touch of shadow had also entered the mix. Unknown words of power flowed from his lips, and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

-

Maxwell awoke to see the ceiling of a tent. He arose, and stepped from the tent into the gloom of a smoke filled morning. As he stretched, he noted hundreds of dwarves gawking at him. He looked around, then in a very startled voice yelled, “Brandy!!!”