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Pushing Back Inevitability

The God of War from the world of Efra, Roki, sets his eyes on Earth and begins the process of invasion. The dormant gods of our world stir for the first time in millennia to call forth mortals to push back against the inevitable. Lawrence Able is a failed writer; still living at home with his parents. He is by all accounts, a loser, yet still those fickle gods find some ember of potential in him and send him an invite in the form of a popup on his computer. Overhauling this series, as I'm not happy with certain things. I hope to see you all on the other one!

Tall_Owl · Fantasia
Classificações insuficientes
109 Chs

Hissing

"Why is this here?"

"What do you mean?"

"This is a map of my country."

"Your country?"

"My nation. Whatever. This is where I'm from." I tap the map and pull it to the side. It flutters to the floor. Nyt picks it up and looks it over.

Underneath it are more maps, written letters, and a whole slew of things. Some in English, and some in the Efran language.

"What do these say?"

I pick up one of the letters and hand it to the Ir. It sets aside the map and begins reading it over.

"Our operative within their armed forces has told us that he has thought of a way to get the Sage out of the way."

The sage? That was the second time I've heard that word. Were they speaking of me? While the Ir reads the letter I look over the other maps. It's a bit harder to recognize, but...there, that's the mountains nearby. So that must mean...yes, this is a map of the town. Several red x's are marked around the town. One right down the street from the compound; about where I am, and one right near where the motel would be.

"Once that happens the Underking," I can hear a snarl raise itself in the Ir's voice, "will make his sacrifice, and the invasion will begin. Posthaste. This is an..." Papers shuffle as the Ir turns the page, "important first step as the sage has proven to be an obstacle.' Are you the sage?"

"Probably. Who's the Underking?"

"The Underking is their leader," Nyt motions to the ratman slumped against the wall, "He had been an ally of the Ir, as was his father, and his father's father; with their help, the Ir were able to hold off the siege for many hundreds of years. Through thousands of battles, but..." The Ir's voice trails off.

"Here, what does this one say?"

"'Our operative met with our agents today; says that he's gotten two of the stronger Earthen Apostles on his side; though one unwittingly. Once the last wakes from a coma, he intends to send the other three to be killed by the White One.' The White One?" The Ir's voice trembles. "Did you meet the White One?"

"I did. We were able to escape him and his army. Who is he?"

"He's...well it's hard to describe." The Ir taps its claw against the wood of the desk, "I suppose he is like a part of Roki. A portion of his body that's been broken off. We call him, and those like him, 'Incarnates.' They each control large armies. Those carrying that banner there," She points to what I had been calling the 'mark of Roki,' the white banner with a blood-red dagger running through the skull of an Ir, "Are loyal to The White One."

A part of his body broken off? What would happen if that part of his body were killed off?

"How many of these, 'parts of his body broken off,' are there?"

The Ir shrugs.

"I know what you're thinking, and that was our plan too, but it didn't work. They're too powerful. And when you kill one, the 'power,' that one has splits itself and goes into all of the rest of them. So the next one after that will be even more powerful."

That does sound problematic, but it might be our only choice. How else would you kill a god?

"So we'd have to kill off all these, 'incarnates,' and all apostles to win, huh?"

The Ir scoffs.

"You make it sound easy."

"Oh, it won't be. But what other choice do we have?"

The Ir rolls its large pale blue eyes.

"Anyhow, it sounds like there's a traitor in your forces."

"'A snake in the grass,'" Had the general figured it out? "I wonder if one of these could show light on who it is." I look over the piles of paper on the desk, and the piles of paper within the desk.

Nyt looks at me curiously, and then digs through the papers; its wide eyes scanning every document it comes across. The Ir stops and looks one over after about five minutes of this, while I watch the window to make sure no creatures approached the door into the building.

"According to this, he's an apostle of, 'a folk spirit that looks much like the Mori.'"

The Mori were the dogmen, right? It couldn't be Mark, could it? Who was his patron?

"Can you look those over while I'm out?" I ask, "I'm going to start. We need to finish before the apostle comes back." I say, "So we can fortify the town."

"Okay. I'll be here." Nyt says as they begin to sift through the pile of papers.

I hop out of the window. Now where was that pen?