(Here is Pt 2 and Pt 4) When the blood moon clouded the night Elderon finally made their way back toward the War. Elderon’s good mood from friends, family and drink was releasing itself slowly into the night. Their world weary shoulders worming themselves onto them once again.
Elderon’s friends had everything they ever need or ever wanted from them, as their god Elderon made sure of such things, that their afterlife be whatever they want, whatever they desire. Most didn’t know about that when Elderon became their god. When Elderon joined their quest.
As Elderon approached the War, (napping where they let it), they saw two feet sticking out from under it’s belly. The feet had pointed shoes on, which Elderon thought impractical when it came to things like traversing over time, yet few did that now a days. As strange as the shoes were, the owner was stranger still; for as Elderon leisurely approached the War they heard strange bargains being made.
“Act now and you can have another one free, a great buy isn’t it? Buy one get one free, yes? Well, what do you say? They’re even on sale! A whole fifty percent off! Compared to other stores this is the best deal you can get!” Elderon had found something resembling a sales man stuck under their War, the poor soul seemed to have gone mad with the business fumes and the scent of gold in others pockets.
They looked to see the sales man’s head poking out the other side of the Wars torso and it just seemed to never shut up; the mouth moving and moving. The man with brown eyes kept talking about sales and his numerous wares, (though there was nothing around for miles, much less a cart), and the War seemed to be sleeping on him but Elderon knew they were keeping half an eye on the fellow beneath them.
“Can I help you?” Elderon asked the man, intrigued by him and his brand of crazy he carried like a medal. That is to say nobody ever wanted to carry a medal and metals were taken off after one day of wearing them around, the novelty of metals disintegrated fast. And yet only the dweebs and showoffs made sure to wear them daily or whenever they thought the surrounding people needed to be reminded of some type of superiority. That did not dissuade the fact that the novelty of metals disintegrated fast, unless it was quite the cool metal that people were actually interested in. This was not a cool metal, yet this guy was wearing it as if it was. (What a dweeb)
Either way the guy was insane; insane as a hat you couldn’t take off. Which explains what comes out of his mouth next.
“The messenger of Shamballa is dead. Get seven percent off on caskets now.” That just seemed like something insane people would say. Everyone knows after all that the messenger of Shamballa is as alive as it gets. Especially since he started that party, no one dies at a good party after all. And some people say said party has been going on for millennia, Elderon knew that that could actually be the case because it did start a millennia ago (they would know, they were invited a millennia ago). Either way the messenger of Shamballa was not dead and seven percent off was an utterly stupid deal.
Elderon just sighed at the man, he was grinning at them and occasionally muttering to himself. They started to whistle and the War got off the man and traveled to a different spot to nap. The man laughed and got up.
“My many thanks God of heroes,” He said, taking a bow that was low enough for him to almost touch the floor, his hands coming around his torso in an almost elegant way, as he straightened up though; well Elderon saw it coming of course, but, was a bit to shocked to get out of the way.
As the man straightened up he brought his hand up as well in a truly magnificent bitch slap, the back of his hand connected with Elderon’s cheek and Elderon’s head whipped the to the left, a red mark already forming, surprise written all over their face.
The man must be truly insane to bitch slap a god, but it was Elderon so, perhaps not.
“The hell was that for?!” Elderon was outraged but also shocked enough to want to know the man’s answer before they vaporized him.
“Well it seems like you needed it.”
That just made them more angry, they were already thinking up more creative ways for the man to die than just vaporization. “I don’t know what the hell you’re on about. I didn’t fucking need that.”
“Well you will! After all for what is to come; well it’s not gonna be pretty.” He was still smiling and for normal mortals it would start to be unnerving. For Elderon it was just getting annoying, especially when he conjured a walking stick that put him to his full height, a whole three inches higher than Elderon (which was, of course, especially annoying).
“What is to come? You presume to know?” Elderon was a little more careful with him now that he had proved himself insane and partly magic, which was like giving a sword to a thoughtless man, and besides no one but the god of insanity knew what insane people were going to do (or did he?).
“Oh, I do know, I am Lian after all, the traveling salesman and part time prophecies.” He tipped his head at Elderon, an invisible hat seemed to cover his hair at once, making it seem as if he was bald. Elderon was still weary of the man, no matter how ridiculous he was starting to look, he did after all seem to have leopard print tights on, those were just plain offensive in at least ten different nations just this side of the Free.
“You mean an oracle?” They asked him, choosing to also ignore the eye searing tie dye tutu they had on.
“That’s not what it’s going to be called in a few years.” His smile was just getting creepier by the second, Lian’s eyes were starting to glow as well, a red that usually demons liked to wear. Elderon was started to get the suspicious feeling that Lian wasn’t just an oracle but one that was corrupted by demon influences, possibly one that started out demon.
“A few years huh?” Elderon asked, Lian seemed to want to talk after all and Elderon thought they had time.
“Oh yes, quite the place Free will be in a few years, quite the people will run it in a few years, quite the chaos in a few years. Don’t worry, Elderon god of heroes, you won’t have to wait long for your perfect failure. One that will span centuries.”
Elderon went cold at Lian’s words. The wind started to whistle, they did not like those that didn’t keep their mouth shut. Elderon may talk at times, but the future, well there was a reason oracles talked in riddles.
The demon oracle’s neck snapped, a resounding crack echoed around the plains, the blood moon glowed upon them, making the area look as if everything had a bit of a red hue to it. With the neck at an awkward angle Lian started to laugh, it would be chilling to some, Elderon had seen worse.
The wind whipped about them and Death had appeared once again at Elderon’s side, they both watched as Lian was consumed by something unseen, something almost larger than life, down and down Lian seemed to spiral, it almost gave Elderon vertigo watching him he began to speak.
“A quest doomed to fail
Trial by tooth and nail
A top brought up by titans
Brought low by greed
Heed as the watcher warns
Brought low by deeds”
The demon prophecy chilled Elderon to the bone, they were spooked now. Prophecies like that hadn’t been said since the dawn of Free, since the people warred for years and years to come. Prophecies, the blood of quests called to Elderon more than a prayer from any hero could. And this prophecy called to a part of Elderon best left buried, best for the world of Free and best for all those worlds that come before it.
Lian left smoke and mercury behind him, disappearing after the last verse. The air smelled rancid, almost as if deer were rotting somewhere nearby. Death was an almost friendly presence by Elderon’s side, he seemed spooked like Elderon, but he was probably excited, or perhaps he felt nothing at all. It was hard to tell in any case.
“It seems we have to do something about that.” Elderon said, gesturing vaguely toward the general area of what happened.
“Good luck with that.” Death told them after an appropriate pause for the general destruction of the area. They disappeared right after.
“Typical.” Elderon muttered to themselves, before whistling to call their War over. They had work to do.