This/Wayfarers song
It was a large table, questionably shaped with too many sides. Somehow it was just large enough, probably. Already most of the seats were filled; as Arsten and Corn approached a few looked up and smiled.
Arsten chose a random chair - namely the closest one to where he was standing - and sat down. Corn lingered, remaining standing for a bit, then for lack of any better ideas sat next to Arsten. This was, all in all, not something he was sure he should be at. Arsten didn't seem at all bothered, but he had history before him, and thus all the right in the world to be here. And what did Corn have? Nothing. Corn was but a humble acolyte, a priest in training, a young man who had been bored and in the right place at the right time to randomly follow another, in this case Arsten Dren, out of the temple.
So Corn was thoroughly convinced that he shouldn't be here, but also, in light of the mostly full table of very competent looking people at which he was also seated, entirely too embarrassed to leave.
The problem was, Arsten had pretty much invited him to come. When Corn had gotten too close and looked quizzical, Arsten said, "Huh, got a note from an old fried... you want to see something interesting? Dunno what it is, but if you want to come..." and he'd come. Here he was. It didn't seem right, but he had been interested, and so here he was.
The rest of the table was a bunch of folks he didn't recognise. Arsten had waved across to the short elf woman with the white hair when they'd arrived and she'd been the one who'd told them to have a seat, probably the old friend from the note, but the rest were just... well, far as Corn could tell, random people. There was the guy dressed in leather and furs like some sort of barbarian hero, and there was a women who wore black like a cloak of midnight and didn't seem to move with the same reality as the rest of the table, and a guy over there who seemed very determined to get completely and thoroughly drunk as quickly as possible. Already the waiter had come by twice refilling his mug of shalott and he was looking decidedly wobbly, but apparently not nearly as wobbly as he'd like to be, since here came the waiter again... and there was also a man next to the white-haired woman with a rather long beard, dressed in grey, and, from the looks of things, not exactly on the best of terms with her.
And there was also a vampire. Oh dear.
The thing was, in Corn's religion, the undead were regarded as very bad. Corn was an acolyte of Kyrule - the god of death, as generally regarded on Abearanoth. And since Corn didn't know of any worlds besides Abearanoth, that made Kyrule The god of death to him, though to an acolyte that might well be how it goes even if they are aware of other worlds with other gods.
Point is, Kyrule hated the undead. The doomguides and the deathdealers, his greatest priests and warriors, were renowned for their skills in dealing with the undead and other unfortunate foes of the Lord. The undead were the main foes, however, with vampires at the top of the list. And Corn was sitting at the same table as one.
Uh.
Okay.
This is awkward.
Corn fidgetted. A waiter came by and asked him if he wanted anything. He shrugged, and then the vampire looked and him and said, "Root beer for him, pinch of zest."
The waiter nodded and went to get it.
Okay.
The vampire, a rather lovely, and very pale, blood-eyed and blonde-haired lady, smiled at him.
Very awkward.
The white-haired elf, who actually looked quite young, chose that moment to say, "Who are we still waiting on?"
"One more," said a newcomer as he emerged from the gloom of the rest of the inn. He was a middle-aged man with a nice haircut. He took a seat next to the bearded guy, and indeed, there was exactly one seat left empty after him.
While Corn, because of his religion, didn't like the undead, he did, because he was Corn, rather take an interest in hair. Everyone had different hair. Even haircuts that should be exactly the same were different, and different people with hair that was basically the same always had different haircuts. It was one of the great mysteries of the universe, and one, if he ever got around to it, he intended to solve. Maybe. If it was worth it.
Corn noticed the vampire eyeing the drunk. She flagged the waiter over after he gave Corn his root beer, and he poured her a shalott. Interesting, Corn thought. He'd never known vampires could drink anything but blood.
And she did have nice hair.
Corn sniffed the root beer. It smelled nice. He took a sip. Tasted nice too.
Huh.
"It's alright, you know," Arsten said next to him. "Bit of an odd crowd, but alright."
"Odd?" Corn started, then a marvelous winged woman appeared out of nowhere by the last empty seat and almost fell on the table before he could continue.
"I am sorry," she said, balancing herself and trying to fight the chair. "It seems my wing has caught in this chair. A moment, if you please."
The drunk man snorted and downed his current shalott, whichever it was.
Dumbfounded, Corn stared at her as she disentangled herself and then sat down. Was she an angel, a celestial of lore? Or what? What was this gathering?
The middle aged man moved as if to speak, but then the white-haired elf interrupted him before he could begin. "Perhaps," she said, as though reading Corn's mind, "we should all introduce ourselves first.
"I am Eapherod, lord of dreams, blah blah blah," she said. "But you can all call me Rahah. And, um... I like questionably caffeinated drinks. Possibly a little too much. You can ask Sherandris about that." The man next to her smiled as she coughed vaguely and looked to her right, to the barbarian-looking fellow, prompting him to continue.
Eepherod? The God of Dreams? Legend had said she had been imprisoned by Kyrule for thousands of years, and yet she...
His train of thought was interrupted as the guy introduced himself: "I'm Kerris of Attrel. Mercenary for hire." He paused, as though thinking carefully. "Hi?"
Corn suddenly realised Kerris was to his left and he was probably next. Then he realised everyone was looking at him and turned bright red. "Uh... I'm Corn. I'm but a humble acolyte of Kyrule. I don't..." In a panic, he looked around desperately.
Arsten patted him on his shoulder and continued, saving him from his pain as the attention moved on.
"Arsten Dren here, historian of sorts, you know. Kind that has a gun and such." He smiled secretively like this was some kind of grand joke.
"What, like Indiana Jones?" the vampire asked.
"Exactly like Indiana Jones," the elf, Eapherod... Rahah... said. Corn had no idea who Indiana Jones was, and from the look of it neither did Arsten, but apparently it didn't matter much, as the introductions were moving on.
"I am Ilyanata, or Illya. I am the force and reality of dreams, High Priestess of Eapherod, and her will upon the world." That was the woman in black. Her hair was... okay, but not great.
"I am called Myyr of Souls," the angel said. Her hair appeared to be a mass of feathers rather like her wings. "I suffer for the will of Athan, and act in his name."
"In other words she's a priest," said the guy next to her, the drunk. "I'm also a priest, but I probably shouldn't advertise that on account of being a far more significant drunk." He waved his mug for emphasis, tried to down it, realised it was already empty, and stared at it looking betrayed.
"What's your name?" the man with the significant beard prompted after a bit of a pause. Corn suddenly realised he was also an elf, but much taller.
"Oh, Vardaman. Sorry."
Vardaman. Corn knew that name. Nobody in Kyrule's worship didn't; Vardaman was heralded as the greatest deathdealer of lore, a priest so devout he had given up everything he was in the name of his faith. This... couldn't be him... could it? And next to a vampire?
"I am Coraline Henderson, the Hand of Kyrule and his will upon the world" the vampire said. "And yes, I am a vampire." She looked right at Corn. "Sometimes there are accidents."
Vardaman choked and started coughing and was miraculously rescued by a waiter with a fresh bottle of shalott.
"Uh," Corn said, and wisely decided now would be a good time to drink the rest of his root beer. The thing was, it actually wasn't entirely unbelievable. She looked like Coraline was described to look, just... deader? Because she also definitely looked like a vampire. And he couldn't see any of the scars that would mark her as her on account of the long sleeves... a small part of him wondered if he'd failed some sort of significant test here.
Arsten glanced at Vardaman. "Yeah..." he said. "That's one way to put it."
"And I am Kyrule," said the seemingly ordinary man sitting next to Coraline. "Accident is, indeed, one way to put it. There are... others."
"Which we probably shouldn't go into," Eapherod said.
Kyrule gave her a pointed look. She raised an eyebrow.
The bearded man between them stretched melodramatically, leaning over to one side than the other, and then said, "Heh, gods."
"Har," Eapherod said.
"Rar," he said. "Sherandris here. None of you will have heard of me because I just like food. Mmm, food. I am completely ordinary. Totally. And food."
"Whackjob ordinary," the vampire Coraline said.
"Exactly," he said, "I am as ordinary as an everyday whackjob. On account of being one."
"He used to be the god of the dead somewhere else, but now he's on holiday," Eapherod explained, though it really didn't explain anything.
Corn was, by this point, utterly bewildered. He just stared at Sherandris and Kyrule, if that even was Kyrule, although he felt this strange certainty that it was, then looked at Arsten, his only real attachment to what he'd previously considered to be reality.
Arsten shrugged.
"Agh, does anyone have a toothpick?"
"If you do that again, I swear, I will... I will... why, I'll... what was I saying?"
"What do you mean, I can't be a necromancer? I've even had basic training. It's like the only wizarding I know, but I do know it."
"Actually, that would make sense. Vampire necromancer. It fits."
"No, Sherandris, you can't be a clown. Be a wizard. You'd be a sexy wizard."
"But I'm not a wizard."
"Learn."
"But- Yes, dear."
"Do we have a cleric?"
"No. No, we definitely do not have a cleric."
"Oh, well, we probably do want a-"
"You've never heard of sarcasm, have you?"
"Why is there an eyeball in my drink?"
"Um, what is a cleric, then? It says here 'Alle braive adventeurers should take withe them wone clerick, to tende to the illsome and deathley.'"
"Clerics is priests and healers. We've got plenty. Coming out of our ears, as me mum might say."
"Oh. I knew that."
"Anyone want an eyeball?"
"Is anyone Sheogorath?"
"Who?"
"What?"
"I think I'm going to be a necromancer."
"I'm going to be a hairdresser."
"Excellent. Could always use one of those on a trip."
"You're a mesmer, Coraline. Mesmers can't be necromancers."
"Who says? Ascended mesmers are perfectly capable of taking on a secondary profession same as everyone else!"
"But you're not ascended."
"I'm dead. 'Sclose enough, isn't it?"
"You could die in Pre."
"So? This isn't Ascalon."
"Buggrit, you damn bird, stop that!"
"Please stop falling over, then. I will not hit you with my wing if you do not fall on it."
"You also don't need to be ascended to take a secondary profession - that's just to change it."
"Will you stay out of this? You've never even played the game!"
"Just saying."
"Oh, right. Great. I hereby declare myself a necromancer. Just as soon as I figure out how to allot my traits to death magic, vast armies shall be mine!"
"Traits?"
"It's a videogame."
"A what?"
"Something that hasn't been invented yet."
"What, still? At this rate I'm going to die before they are!"
"Technically you already have."
"Shut up."
"What just happened?" Corn asked.
"Vardaman tried to turn her," Kyrule said. "A rather unexpected move."
Eapherod had appeared beside him. "Did you see that?"
"Darkness."
"Yes," she said. It had flickered about Coraline's form like smoke, visible only to those who knew what it was. And Kyrule was learning quickly.
"I'm thinking Kralkatoric."
"Zhaitan was cute."
"Ey, don't tell me that. I'm not there yet. I shouldn't be getting spoilers!"
"How is it a spoiler that Zhaitan dies in the end? It was practically written on the box. Hells, it might have been written on the box for all I know."
"Wasn't. I bought the box."
"Oh. Well, they mentioned it in a press release or some such."
"Probably on Facebook."
"But I knew about it. How'd I have known if they'd said it there?"
"You fought him. Of course you knew."
"Of course I fought him. It's a damn dungeon, isn't it?"
"And I'm not there yet."
"Well... what about Jormag?"
"What's he look like?"
"I dunno, icey?"
"Never even seen him, have you?"
"What, and you've seen Kralkatoric?"
"Saw the Shatterer."
"Well I saw Jormag's Claw. Thing even landed on my gal once."
"Will you two shut up already? Some of us are trying to sleep!"
As one, Coraline and Eapherod turned to glare at Corn. He met their glares with the sheer force of disgruntlement only the sleep-deprived can manage.
"Alright, fine," Eapherod whispered, and turned back to Coraline. "But can we please not turn this into a videogame?"
"Why not?" Coraline whispered. "The Elder Dragons are about the right size, and it's definitely going to be a dragon. Too late for that."
"Because this isn't a videogame? Also that's like copyright violation or something."
"So?"
"They are my dreams. They are the best of me. They are better than I could ever be."
The gods gathered in the darkness, in the unnatural glow, in anticipation of the apocalypse.
Alyr there, the lady of temptation, goddess of cats, with spear at the ready...
Kyrule there, lord of death, keeper of souls, waiting, always waiting...
Nausica there, lord of the depths...
Eapherod saw them, and others, and smiled. Almost there. The plan, Coraline's plan, would soon come to pass.
Darkness swirled in the depths of the abyss in which they stood.
