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Chapter 3 - Conflicts - The Traveling Dungeon
🕑 Added 2021-02-08 03:36:29 +0000 UTCBefore I could question the small goddess, the hunched, dirty divinity let out a drawn-out hissing laugh. She flashed her sharp teeth in a truly horrific grin while glancing at me through her hanging hair. Rocking her hips from side to side, the movement disturbing with her hunched form, she slowly shuffled forward to sit next to me and glared at the others. Despite the odd and disturbing movements that would have freaked me out as a human, I felt no discomfort at her actions from my new divine instincts. I simply knew she was showing which side she was standing with between the other gods and me. I didn’t know why or how loyal this support would be, but I knew her seat choice was deliberate.
When I glanced back at the gathered gods, they had formed up into loose groups that faced toward me and my presumptive ally.
With a disturbing giggle, the sound distinctly feminine and bell-like, the hunched woman said, “Oh? Don’t you have something first to force on him? Don’t you plan to restrict him? Tie him up? Chain him down? Force him into compliance?”
I only had a moment to understand her words before reaching across the distance into the mortal world. Wrapping a part of space around my fist, I raised my hand and formed a swirling distortion of space into a shield. When no attack came, and in fact, the other gods simply watched the drama unfold while curiously glancing at my newly formed protector of swirling black. Awkwardly, I pulled the swirling darkness into a shape that latched onto my wrist. Next to me, the hunched woman seemed uninterested in my actions, focusing on the gods that she was eyeing. Still, the rest seemed intensely interested in my new wrist band.
Beld glanced at my clothes, eyed the large chunky band of black that was ever moving on my wrist, then back to the silently watching Denda.
Beld’s words entered the silence, the movements of his lips hidden behind the black mask of his shadows, “Two divine embodiments of his office, both in moments. I wasn’t certain before, but I am now. He’s definitely a Primary.”
“Truth!” came the voice of the balding god. The proclamation shouted from the book wielding man, his tome now tucked under his arm as he stepped toward the dirty goddess and me. The other gods gently made way as the balding god, Mit approached.
When Mit was free of the crowd, he glanced down at my new companion for a moment, his lips quirking up in a slight smile before he turned to me.
“We are the Primary gods. I am Mit, the god of Truth. She is Conflict. I am pleased to welcome you, Dale, God of Space.”
None of the other gods moved or said anything, but I could feel the growing tension as their eyes remained fixed on us.
Ignoring his words, I looked to the hunched goddess next to me.
“Conflict?” I asked.
All I gained in return was a flashing grin of sharpened teeth before she continued to stare at the other gods.
I turned back to Mit but ignored his comment. I didn’t understand what he meant about being a ‘Primary.’ Despite this, I knew for sure that I had no interest in being chained down again. I had experienced it as a Dungeon Core, and I refused to return to that state.
“What did she mean about chaining me down?” I asked, body calm but tension leaking into my voice.
I expected Mit or even Denda to step forward and explain her words. But, to my surprise, Coldona was the one to step forward, her monstrous body still in transition into a more traditionally divine and beautiful form.
“Dale, our Domains determine who we are and how we can act. They empower us, to some extent define us, and in some ways cage us. The knowledge of Domains can’t be easily spread to the mortals. To work with you, Denda had to put your mortal form under a geas. She took on the responsibility to restrict the knowledge she gave to you, containing its spread. She would have been diminished, possibly killed, if she hadn’t contained that information. The geas we all are under required it of her.” Coldona said.
Laughing as she unfolded from her hunched form, Conflict stood and started to whirl around me, her form blurring into a dervish around me. During her dance, she reached out with a single clawed hand to gently touch me on my nose, the contact coming with a silly noise. Continuing her swirling movement, she slowed, turning her spin into a slow waltz. Despite the almost flowing and gentle movements, her claws snapped out with sudden strikes from her bladed hands. She was the winds of a swirling storm, blades of chitin snapping and scrapping through the world, each attack striking at the air surrounding me. I remained the calm eye of the storm, untouched and unbothered. From within the circle of her dance drifted Conflicts voice, the words somehow overlapping the laughter.
“Not all of us are under such a geas. Not all of us!” shouted Conflict.
Glancing down at the ground, Coldona responded, “No, not all of us.”
Conflict’s mad dance stopped, hunched and ready to pounce, her body between the rest of the gods and me, her claws held up and ready.
“Only we are free! Only we have resisted!” she said.
Glancing down for a moment before I turned my gaze out at the other gods before speaking, “…And if I don’t agree to this geas?”
Mit opened his book and turned away, his interest seemingly fading from the discussion.
Giving another one of her tinkling laughs, Conflict looked to Vetta, Goddess of Light and Order.
“Well, Mother?” she snarled, her teeth flashing in anger and pain, “What happens if he refuses to accept the gaes?”
Vetta remained unmoved from the accusation, but she did answer, “Then those who have agreed to the Compact will be unable to work with him. We can make no agreement with him and offer him no assistance. Only previous debts may be called upon.”
Sneering, Conflict dropped onto her haunches and turned away. Oddly, Conflict began to idly and gently play with the edge of my space distorted clothing, her claw tip casually tugging and flipping the pant leg. Despite the oddness of the day, from embodiment and my mood swings to my clothing being played with by a disturbing and angry goddess, I felt no real fear or danger. I was calm, and once I was over the strange mood swings, I felt relaxed and in control. The difference between the constant low level of anxiety in my human memories and the weird mentality in my dungeon core form compared to my new divine emotional responses was clear. I still had worries. I was concerned with both the geas and what it would mean to accept it versus rejecting it, but I wasn’t stewing in a bundle of anxiety. The feeling was more remote, more intellectual, and considered. There was…distance...between me and the things that could cause problems, enough space that I could think and plan without the fear and upset of my situation distracting me.
“I do not agree to the geas, but I’m not rejecting it either. Yet. Let’s set it to the side for a moment,” I said before speaking to the leather-clad and dagger toting little goddess. “Denda? What did you mean, ‘escape plan’?” I asked.
Another silent moment passed as the gods considered my proposal. It was a short exchange of glances, but I could see them balancing if they could set the Compact’s agreement aside for a time during this short period of consideration. I somehow simply understand the strange loophole. They couldn’t talk about the Compact, but they also had to convince a god outside the Compact to accept it. This provided a grey area where I could be told about it, consider it, and then reject or accept it. I could also feel that this loophole would slowly close. I couldn’t hold off on my decision for a year, but I might be able to manage a day or two. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised to discover that becoming a god came with a sense for being a rules lawyer. It seemed appropriate somehow.
Beld snuggled up against the back of his wife as she leaned into him. Her hands rested upon the hilts of her daggers. Her body language gave me a bit of a mixed message between potential attack and her relaxed repose. Seeing as she was continually fingering her blades when she was staring at Conflict, I guessed that her threatening display was for the sharp-toothed goddess. Despite the weapons, I didn’t think she would be able to harm Conflict. This felt more like playacting than a threat.
“We have long guessed that this world is not the only one. The System limits us in ways that feel foreign to our innate divinity. With these two visitors, we now have confirmation. She even suggested how we could escape. You,” Denda said, her familiar smile spreading across her face.
I could see it. How Sandra very carefully explained that she was restricted from her own world. Making it a point that she couldn’t normally interact in this world while also clarifying how escape shouldn’t be possible for us. It had the feel of a poorly done playact.
Oh, please, mister fox, don’t throw me in the briar patch!
Even her seeming threat was a goad attempting to get us to escape. She was trying to have us break her agreement and free her from her debt with Darius. The overlapping words of what she said versus what she meant unfolded for me like the curled and distorted space I liked to play with. On the outside, it was tiny and insignificant. Yet, within contained a world of hidden possibilities.
The others seemed to understand my revelation, but no one said it out loud. I wasn’t sure if that was taboo or if it would have further consequences, but I had no interest in breaking the silence. Maybe when the rules were more apparent to me.
Gently tugging on my pant leg, Conflict looked up at me, her head twisting in an oddly cat-like way as she flashed a pout my way.
“Let’s talk. Privately,” Conflict said as she sneered at the others before facing me again. Her body was nearly wrapped around my leg in a strange bid to hold me close. The distorted space of my clothes resisted her grip. The distorted dimension that formed my clothing was turned so that everything entering the surface was directed outward. In effect, squeezing my suit simply forced her grip against itself. Within my clothes, I felt none of her desperate hold.
Looking to the rest of the gods, who seemed to be pointedly looking away, I nodded to Conflict.
Flashing me another of her sharp-fanged grins, she sprang up and wrapped her body around me, arms and legs latching on as the Hall of the Gods was yanked away from me.
Comments
Alston Sleet
War!
Carl Mason
Conflict, who shall remain nameless (after all there are so many, who can remember names), just BOOPed Dale the Dungeon god of Space on the nose. ... This means War!
Yshua
Yay! It’s good to be back.
