Immortal. This could be my last opportunity to rip them off by summoning a spawn of the Dark.
Sensing the edgy atmosphere, the Hell Hounds rustled their armor plates shut, forming a defense circle. They just didn't feel comfortable within the emotional crowd.
Gotcha. Aulë the Smith, the Vala who'd wanted children so badly that he'd made his own against the High God's explicit orders. Out of mountain rock he'd fashioned the seven dwarves, the arch fathers of his mountain folk. Actually, once his deeds had been discovered, he'd been the first to disown them and quite willingly raised his hammer over their heads, preparing to crush his firstborn to dust. But that's a whole other story altogether. Light isn't that pure and homogenous, either, and who knows what shadows lurk in its cloudy depths.
I caught a suspicious glance of a gray-bearded Dwarven patriarch. A complex combination of intrigue and internal games between the seven houses had raised him to the top as the most suitable figure for the part of the new temple's Chief Priest. I could see he was nervous: even though he didn't twitch a muscle, a bead of sweat ran down his forehead, betraying his inner struggle.
I gave him a reassuring nod and took a good hold of a conveniently positioned, fancily carved thingy while pointing the cursor at the name. Badaboom!
AlterWorld shuddered. The Universe quaked. The ceilings showered us with bits of decorative molding. The warped marble tiles exploded with what sounded like gunfire, unable to support the pressure. The heavens creaked their rusty storerooms open, shaking a long-forsaken god figure free of mothballs.
Pantheon alert! A new force has entered the world! Aulë the Smith, the god of earth and metals, has joined the Pantheon of the Fallen One.
"Oh," the crowd gasped with a thousand beer guts.
Steel rattled across the temple as the dwarves dropped to their knees as one, greeting their god.
"Great Father..." a thousand-strong whisper echoed under the vaulted ceiling.
The colorful lights stopped their whirling dance around the altar, revealing to us a big shaggy fellow of very un-dwarven proportions. Think Schwarzenegger meets Bigfoot. An enormous hammer looked like a toy in his powerful scarred arms.
He surveilled the bowing dwarves, nodding slightly in synch with their sincere prayers as he gained strength before our very eyes. He glanced over at the temple and frowned. He sniffed the air and furrowed his massive brow. His eyes glazed over. I'll be damned if he wasn't checking his interface!
Then we were deafened by an angry god's bellowing,
"The Dark ? What kind of joke is that? Tell me, in the name of Eru the One!"
That probably wasn't the best moment to stick my neck out but I wanted it over and done with. I cleared my throat. "Sir Aulë, welcome to AlterWorld! Actually, the Fallen One happens to be the Chief God here."
Okay, so I'd tweaked the truth a little. We had the Pantheon of Light here as well. But we'd have to cross that bridge when we came to it.
His heavy glare pinned me to the ground. "A Firstborn worshipping the Dark — in my Temple? Who do you think you are?"
I gulped. These gods knew how to apply pressure. Never mind. I still had my shield — and a lot of god networking practice, thanks to the Fallen One. "I am the First Priest of the Dark Pantheon. I am the one who procured the artifact of divine power, summoning you back to life in this world!"
A scowl curved Aulë's lips. There I was, a lightning rod for his divine fury. "We don't need priests like you! To your knees, maggot!"
Well, stuff that! I'd never been known to accommodate the Fallen One even, definitely not this half-forgotten petty Middle-Earth god!
His godly will, even though considerably reduced by my Divine Immunity, still weighed down on me like a slab of concrete. My joints crunched, my spine creaked. The sensitive hounds writhed on the floor like flattened spots of ink. You really shouldn't have done that,
Sensing the edgy atmosphere, the Hell Hounds rustled their armor plates shut, forming a defense circle. They just didn't feel comfortable within the emotional crowd.
Gotcha. Aulë the Smith, the Vala who'd wanted children so badly that he'd made his own against the High God's explicit orders. Out of mountain rock he'd fashioned the seven dwarves, the arch fathers of his mountain folk. Actually, once his deeds had been discovered, he'd been the first to disown them and quite willingly raised his hammer over their heads, preparing to crush his firstborn to dust. But that's a whole other story altogether. Light isn't that pure and homogenous, either, and who knows what shadows lurk in its cloudy depths.
I caught a suspicious glance of a gray-bearded Dwarven patriarch. A complex combination of intrigue and internal games between the seven houses had raised him to the top as the most suitable figure for the part of the new temple's Chief Priest. I could see he was nervous: even though he didn't twitch a muscle, a bead of sweat ran down his forehead, betraying his inner struggle.
I gave him a reassuring nod and took a good hold of a conveniently positioned, fancily carved thingy while pointing the cursor at the name. Badaboom!
AlterWorld shuddered. The Universe quaked. The ceilings showered us with bits of decorative molding. The warped marble tiles exploded with what sounded like gunfire, unable to support the pressure. The heavens creaked their rusty storerooms open, shaking a long-forsaken god figure free of mothballs.
Pantheon alert! A new force has entered the world! Aulë the Smith, the god of earth and metals, has joined the Pantheon of the Fallen One.
"Oh," the crowd gasped with a thousand beer guts.
Steel rattled across the temple as the dwarves dropped to their knees as one, greeting their god.
"Great Father..." a thousand-strong whisper echoed under the vaulted ceiling.
The colorful lights stopped their whirling dance around the altar, revealing to us a big shaggy fellow of very un-dwarven proportions. Think Schwarzenegger meets Bigfoot. An enormous hammer looked like a toy in his powerful scarred arms.
He surveilled the bowing dwarves, nodding slightly in synch with their sincere prayers as he gained strength before our very eyes. He glanced over at the temple and frowned. He sniffed the air and furrowed his massive brow. His eyes glazed over. I'll be damned if he wasn't checking his interface!
Then we were deafened by an angry god's bellowing,
"The Dark ? What kind of joke is that? Tell me, in the name of Eru the One!"
That probably wasn't the best moment to stick my neck out but I wanted it over and done with. I cleared my throat. "Sir Aulë, welcome to AlterWorld! Actually, the Fallen One happens to be the Chief God here."
Okay, so I'd tweaked the truth a little. We had the Pantheon of Light here as well. But we'd have to cross that bridge when we came to it.
His heavy glare pinned me to the ground. "A Firstborn worshipping the Dark — in my Temple? Who do you think you are?"
I gulped. These gods knew how to apply pressure. Never mind. I still had my shield — and a lot of god networking practice, thanks to the Fallen One. "I am the First Priest of the Dark Pantheon. I am the one who procured the artifact of divine power, summoning you back to life in this world!"
A scowl curved Aulë's lips. There I was, a lightning rod for his divine fury. "We don't need priests like you! To your knees, maggot!"
Well, stuff that! I'd never been known to accommodate the Fallen One even, definitely not this half-forgotten petty Middle-Earth god!
His godly will, even though considerably reduced by my Divine Immunity, still weighed down on me like a slab of concrete. My joints crunched, my spine creaked. The sensitive hounds writhed on the floor like flattened spots of ink. You really shouldn't have done that,
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