Nemani admired the fork attached to the top of his new ceremonial staff, gleaming like steel. Another fork hung over the door to the temple (on the inside), a third was concealed in a pouch around his chest and the remainder were hidden along with the curious ruby necklace the Firstborn had brought in the new concealed chamber within the altar, above which hung a shiny new copper bell for calling services. Urist's work had been much appreciated, and Nemani had reallocated him to the forges making weaponry and ensured he could have enough drink to drown in - provided he wasn't on the job.
There were still matters that troubled him, however, and for this reason he had called Thirk to meet him. The flint chipper-turned-metalworker gave a deep bow and Nemani could not help but notice the copper bangles around his wrists. Evidently Thirk was doing well out of the temple's rise also.
"How are things progressing with the metalwork?" Nemani asked.
"We're trying to wrap our heads around it," said Thirk, "and a few of the men can work metal and even smelt steel, but we're not really equipped to outfit an army or anything. We'll need more time to learn the techniques, but right now we're all still trying to learn from the metal men. They aren't exactly chatty, you know."
"What about ore?"
"Ironborn again. The one you named Dash helps that dwarf out at the old dwarf mining site, but we still haven't had a solid response from the dwarves yet as to whether they'll chip in. It'd help if Urist would bloody teach us the tricks of mining. I mean, we get the smash rocks until they come open bit, it's just picking out the right ones. Trouble is the dwarf's too busy or too drunk to tell us."
"He's stretched out thin enough as is," said Nemani. "I'm afraid we'll need to wait until we get a positive response from the dwarven clans to try and learn those techniques. With the ore we've got and using your men to assist the Ironborn in putting them together, do you think you could outfit a large group with steel blades and shields?"
"It'll be a stretch, but aye," said Thirk. "Do you have something in mind?"
"Yes," said Nemani, and moved back to the subject of smithing. "Could you also work on something to provide better protection for the chest? Perhaps plates of steel, enough to cover the chest and back?"
"Need a fair bit of steel for that," said Thirk, "not to mention the expense. With what I've got, we could do something a little less extravagant - small plates of steel, like fish scales, woven into a thick leather backing. Maybe not as good as a solid plate, but you've got to work with what you can afford."
"Very well, I want you to work on that, Thirk. Leave the forging of the weapons and shields to your assistants and Dash - I want you to work with Star on making that better protection." Nemani struck the staff on the floor. The fork atop it rung softly and Nemani gently touched Thirk upon the head with the end of the fork. "Go with Gheronaton's blessing."
As Thirk left, Nemani rang the bell to signal the arrival of his next visit. Ruk entered the temple, decked in a variety of shell, bead and copper jewellery. It was a very nearly comical appearance, as the poor farmer nearly buckled under the weight.
"Where on Aether do you even get all of those?" Nemani asked.
"Gifts from the places I go, of course," chuckled Ruk, taking a swig from a skin at his belt. Nemani smelled the distinctive odour of beer.
"I can't help but notice what look like pottery beads on a string," Nemani pointed out. "Does that mean a positive return from Curio?" Ruk shook his head.
"A gift to keep things pleasant, but still no positive yea or nay. Same from the elven villages. Our immediate human neighbours have been much more responsive, though. We have at the very least loose trading arrangements with them."
"It'll have to do," muttered Nemani.
"Have do to for what?" Ruk asked.
"I called you in to give you another opportunity to escape your wife," said Nemani. "I'd like you to visit the human villages we are more closely associated with, invite their elders and chiefs to a banquet to be held at the turn of the next harvest season - two seasons from now. Imply that they will be showered with favours, and that important things shall be discussed."
"Imply, holiness?" Ruk raised an eyebrow.
"Don't make any promises or oaths. Just make sure they get here for the banquet. That's all, Ruk."
Ruk shrugged and made his way out of the temple. A short while later a heavyset human carrying a spear entered the temple. He saluted by pressing the spear's pole against his chest.
"Hail, your holiness," said the man.
"Greetings, Tasset. I called you here because you are one of my most skilled followers in the ways of battle, and because you have displayed something of a knack for strategy. I understand you slew three orcs in the attack those few weeks ago?"
"Yes, holiness."
"And it was you who organised the ambush on the second raiding party sent to assault us?"
"It was, holiness."
"And how loyal are you to Gheronaton?" asked Nemani carefully.
"I would kill a thousand orcs for him, holiness," said Tasset with pride. Nemani leant forward, eyes narrowing with intent.
"And how loyal are you to me?"
Tasset's brows twitched fractionally in confusion. He straightened his face and, after something of a pause, answered.
"I would die for you, holiness." Nemani studied Tasset's eyes and nodded, straightening up.
"Please walk over to the altar, Tasset." Tasset obligingly walked over to the altar. Upon it was a woven cloth stole, bearing the image of a fork. Upon the stole was a dagger.
"Pick up the knife," ordered Nemani. Tasset picked it up and set his spear down against the altar.
"Now plunge it into your heart." Tasset froze, knife in hand.
"I beg your pardon, holiness," said Tasset, "but why?"
"Does there need to be a reason?" asked Nemani.
"I- I... surely I can serve you better alive, holiness?" said Tasset, stuttering a little. Nemani sighed.
"Gheronaton requires a sacrifice. The greatest of our warriors, or disaster will fall upon us."
"I see." Tasset looked at the blade forlornly, then gripped the hilt with both hands and turned the knife inward. He shut his eyes tightly. "For you, holiness!"
The knife clicked softly as it touched Tasset's tunic, and its blade retracted into the hilt. Aside from a sharp bruise on his chest, Tasset found himself surprisingly alive. He let the blade fall to the floor, where the blade clicked back into position.
"But how?" Tasset asked.
"You were judged worthy," said Nemani, silently thanking Urist for crafting the trick dagger. "There is no sacrifice, that was a test of your loyalty. Had it wavered in the slightest, the blade would have cut out your heart. It is because of this loyalty that you are to be my second."
"A priest, holiness?"
"No, my lay second. You are to command my soldiers, and soldiers we will have. First, though, you must train them. Teach them everything you know of war, of combat, of fighting as a group. You are to select thirty men from the village and from the pilgrims that visit the temple. Choose them for their vigour, choose them for their loyalty. Make soldiers of them. Teach them to be loyal to me, to the temple, to Gheronaton. You will have less than two seasons to do this."
"We go to war, holiness?" Tasset picked his spear back up and stood to attention once again.
"Not yet, and hopefully not for many seasons, but we must prepare. And part of that preparation will require soldiers, I am afraid." Nemani broke into a deep frown. "The Firstborn who visited those weeks ago told me that the universe is at war, a war greater than any other, but that it has not yet reached this world. The goblin, Knife, told me of a terrible deity, a creature it dared not name for fear of its Eye. It may well be that a time will come in the future when Gheronaton will call us to fight."
"And we will fight," said Tasset confidently.
"Of that I am sure," said Nemani with a hint of bitterness. "We may well have to fight against a God." Let us pray, thought Nemani, that I never have to tell you that it will be Gheronaton.
After Tasset had saluted again and left to pick out his troops, Nemani found himself hoping dearly that there was some sanctity in the mortal world, that the minds of men and elves remained their own. For if the Gods could pluck thoughts from his own head, what hope did any mortal have against Their schemes?
There was a rustling from behind the altar.
"You can come out now, Knife," said Nemani. The goblin scampered out of his hiding place and stood up, or rather half-stood in a kind of permanent grovel. "Did you hear all of that, Knife?"
"Yes, master," said the goblin.
"Do you understand what it means for the future of this village, of these people? What it means for your future?"
"War will come, master," said the goblin, the fear clear in his voice.
"Yes, and there will be nowhere you can run but here. So what must we do, Knife?"
"We must build, master! We must make defences!"
"Yes, we must. So that is your job. You are to take men to build walls and defences for this place, to dig pits and traps if need be. You are to prepare us against attack."
"Yes master, yes!" squealed the goblin, who made to leave. Nemani caught him by the shoulder and spun him around.
"And remember what awaits you if you betray me."
The goblin shrunk back and scampered out of the hall, leaving Nemani alone with his thoughts. And, of course, the invisible Avengers.
Orders are given.
Thirk, under the influence of the Fork of Inspiration, works with the Ironborn Star to develop Armoursmithy.
The Ironborn Dash, with the aid of Thirk's assistants, prepares arms and armour for thirty soldiers.
Tasset recruits and trains thirty soldiers to be effective and loyal combatants - loyal to Nemani.
Ruk sets about convincing the leadership of the neighbouring human tribes to join together at a banquet in Nemani's village.
Knife is assigned to develop the village's defences.
[All actions are mortal.]
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Topic: Godhood I Play Thread (Read 75833 times)