Even Gren Garnsson was not denied entrance when the Godslayer made his summons. Not that Gren Garnsson was given much choice either; all dwarves found themselves in the great hall of Udilsbor at that moment, whatever else they had been doing or wherever else they might have been. Udil-Volondor spared his children a moment to stare in wonder and confusion at their new home before he spoke to them, his voice resounding through the titanic chamber.
"Welcome my children. Thou a terrible fate has befallen you, I have not forsaken you. Our foes are destroyed and many of us were brought back to life. I have ascended as your true god, and now I have been transformed as Udil-Volondor, you have been rewarded with my gift to you. Let this place be both a temple to me and a source of life to you."
More was said, and more done. Udil appointed stewards and caretakers for his new kingdom, wise dwarves who would re-order the men and women of the new Mountainhome and set them on the true path of faith. When all was in place the God-King and his councillors retreated to discuss the organisation of the dwarven civilisation - united at last after more than five centuries of Udil's struggle. The other dwarves scattered, seeking out new homes and exploring the cavernous new reaches of their metropolis.
Many found renewed faith in their god. Many did not, and to those a crooked and pock-marked vagabond spoke. He spoke in alleyways, in the new taverns being set up, in plump helmet and cave wheat farms where he found work, and in the dark places of Udilsbor. He spoke quietly, so as not to be heard by those powers that be.
"Mighty is Udil-Volondor. Great is he. Who can forget how he wiped out the drakes of the jungles? How he built mighty cities on the coasts and in the tunnels? Mighty indeed. Or perhaps so were the dwarves who did these things in his name. What has Udil done? Slain giants. Slain gods. Udil has killed and killed and killed, and he is a mighty warrior without doubt. So was Az-Sho.
"What have Udil's battles won us? Glory? For him, perhaps. Unity? Yes, those of us survive are united at last, and perhaps a hundredth or thousandth of what we once were. Udil and Az-Sho's battle laid low our people, nearly wiped them out. And up above, on the surface, the sky is as grey as any cavern. Ash even now continues to fall.
"Udil has built a mighty city here. I welcome him to it. But I can no longer place my faith in such a dwarf. I can no longer place my faith in such a god. After his failures, after the failures of all the divines, can you? No. I will find another place, and perhaps you will come with me."The great many ignored him, disgusted by his appearance and fearful of his nature. But those very few who followed, he welcomed to risk wilds as dangerous as he, in the hope that they might breed a hardier people free of the interference of the divines.
Gren gathers the disenchanted, the angry and the exhausted of the dwarven people and heads to the surface. With the few that follow, he begins to carve out hill-forts in the stable patches of ground among the swamps of the Ninth Continent. There they grow plump helmets and try to carve out a separate identity from the dwarves of Udilsbor. If not even a single dwarf follows, he retreats there as a hermit regardless.A month later, when Gren was busy shovelling earth from a hillock for plump helmet garden boxes, he felt a chill in his bones. A voice growled within his mind like some ancient predator, a voice he had not heard in decades.
'What has become of you? You denied me, and see what has become of you. But I offer you a chance of forgiveness, and a possible cure. there is a being, one who a god cannot kill. But a mortal....... they can. If this creature comes before you, and you slay it, I will cure you.
Gren's knuckles grew white on the haft of his shovel. He carefully set it down and picked up one of the slightly warped flamoak beams from his pile and began setting the support for the roof. As he worked, he spoke his reply through gritted teeth.
"Forgiveness? I seek no forgiveness for duty, for loyalty. Udil was my king and my god, and if that loyalty proved misplaced it was not the fault of the virtue. No, I have no need of your forgiveness, and if the curse I bear is for following Udil in his day then I bear it as I must. That fault of judgement, at least, I will own up to."Gren seized the mallet and began hammering the beam into place, pausing briefly when a coughing fit seized him. He took a few moments to check the support before he spoke again, his voice more level and more tired.
"Your kind ruined this world. You gods. When I was born it was a green world, filled with lush grass and mighty jungles. Brilliant blue seas, flush with fish and seaweed. I nearly took a wife on the coast, you know, had the sickness not taken her from me first. Look at it now."Gren threw the hammer to the ground, then dropped to his knees and coughed harder, spitting flecks on blood on the freshly dug dirt. He would have to set a decent slate floor down here soon. He made a mental note to do so before wiping his mouth and beard and staring up at the ceiling above him.
"You want my help?" he shouted, and he shouted it not just at the one who spoke but to all gods as a prayer.
"Fix what you have broken! You offer to heal one sick dwarf, as if that will make amends for your negligence, for your cruelties!" Gren burst into laughter, curdled by the blood and spittle in his throat.
"Heal this sick world, you bastards! Heal it, and save it, or I pray to whatever creature you fear so that it devours the lot of you. You'd deserve nothing less."Gren took a few ragged breaths, forced himself to his feet and picked up his shovel. There was still more work to be done.
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Topic: Pantheon Play Thread: In the beginning there was... (Read 86983 times)