I recently found a piece of fiction I wrote. It is based on a scene from a Dungeons and Dragons game I ran many years ago. The characters had just gone underground into what they thought was the lair of a god of pain, torture, and slavery. They were searching for the Eater of Magic, but had no idea what the Eater was. This is my re-write, because, wow, it was badly written.
“EVEN THE BLOOD”.
They all heard that. They all felt that.
Aramil shook his head to clear the taint of the god’s touch. The touch that invaded his whole body. But it was more than his distaste for the gods that made him do so. He needed to clear his mind. Something isn’t right, he thought to himself.
Bront, like Aramil, hated the beings that forced others to worship them. But there was no obvious physical reaction to the god’s touch for Bront. He wouldn’t give the god even that little power over him. Bront was glad they’d made the kobold they’d rescued hours ago stay behind. This was no place for those not of great power. Hells, he thought, it isn’t a place for the powerful either.
Their reactions, despite nearly overwhelming them, paled compared to those of Delvin and Elain. One a priest, one a holy warrior of a sort. They served other gods, and felt not only the power of Torog, but also the revulsion their own gods felt in the presence of its evil. Undying, Godly, Evil. Their stomachs emptied. Almost like their Gods were trying to cleanse them of the taint of Torog.
Then there was Aistlin. He knew what it was like to have a god inside him. Hells, he had almost been a god a year ago. Feeling Torog’s power inside him, even only for a moment, made him feel alive again. Alive like he’d not felt since the other god had taken over his body. Then left him empty, just a mortal again. Of course, this was different. Torog wasn’t planning to give him any power. Torog only took power. Aistlin smiled. I will never give up my power again. I’ll be godlike again, even if I have to kill a god to be so.
Aramil looked at the blood on his sword. He looked at the bodies in front of him and his friends. Then he looked back at his sword, trying to figure out what wasn’t right. Then he noticed it. The blood on his sword was red, but the bodies and the blood flowing out of them were not. They were albinos, as you’d expect from those that spent their whole lives underground. But, even their blood looked like it had no color. It was just as colorless as their clothing and equipment were. Maybe I should stop saying the gods aren’t worth worshipping, or I might end up like them, without color, without emotion……
After drinking some ale to cleanse the taste in his mouth, and saying a short prayer to his god, Delvin asked the obvious question. “‘Even the blood’. Anyone got any idea what that means?”
Aramil answered. “I’m not sure. But, look at the blood of the forsaken. Even it is without color. But then, it is red on our swords and hammers. So, no? Maybe?”
Before anyone could say anything else, Bront insisted they check the bodies for treasure and weapons of power. They weren’t surprised to find there wasn’t much of value. That seemed to be the way of things lately. Almost like the lack of powerful items on the slaves and servants they fought was symbolic of their lack of power over their own lives.
Actually, there was one thing of power. There was a necklace on one of the bodies. Aramil pocketed it. He was sure no one else noticed, distracted as they were in their own searching. It was definitely magical. The trick was going to be wearing it without his friends noticing.
No one seemed to have much else to say about “even the blood” and what it might mean, so they pushed on.
“THAT. IS. FAR. ENOUGH.”
Again, they felt the words almost as much as they heard them. They clearly had Torog’s attention. It was doubtful many had made it this far in a millennia, at least of their own will.
Despite the god’s warning, they pushed on.
They pushed on because they were running out of time. Acamar, the Thing That Ate Worlds, was approaching their world. To stop it, they needed to secure the Eater of Magic, whatever that was. All they really knew about the Eater was that is was somewhere down here. Somewhere inside the domain of Torog.
Once they had the Eater, they could confront the evil goddess Kalil and her armies. Removing them would clear the way to the real threat. Their allies in the school of magic believed that Acamar would no longer attack their world if they killed the warlock that served it. Of course, they had already killed this warlock once. Or so they thought. Kalil had brought him back to life. That was why she had to die first. Then they could kill this warlock. Permanently this time.
But first they needed to find this Eater.
That’s as far as the original got. It is far enough today. I may or may not come back to this story someday. Mostly I wanted to practice some re-writing. The Aistlin part was the hardest, by far. Also, I had mixed in the actions of each with their thoughts. But I like the idea of getting all their reactions and thoughts in first. Not sure that is right or not…..