Doom

[WP] Your party accidentally enrages a God, but certain doom is oddly liberating. Cursed weapons, monkey paws, contracts with demons; nothing is off the table. You have no chance of winning, but your deaths shall be GLORIOUS!

*****

We'll be remembered.

That was the last thing I said to my party before we went our separate ways. It was four of us. Four guild-branded adventurers seeking wealth, fame, power. And it took ten years, ten years of galavanting across the world before we finally found the fabled Tomb of Night. A whole temple made of black gold, the legends said. The legends were right.

Of course, they mentioned nothing of the Sleeping God (ah, awake now) which casts down its Doom upon those foolish enough to remove a single piece of gold from its temple. Certain, inescapable death. Funny how legends always leave out the important bits.

We left the temple — for all the richer, that much poorer.

Helios was the first to go. I suspected his faith was shattered after coming face to face with a being older than the Seven Sisters, older than sin. Not long after we left the Tomb, I heard rumor of a high priest burning down one of the Seven's temples -- with himself inside.

I don't blame him. If you ask me, he got off easy.

You see, some of us would not go quietly. A guy like Mako, a rogue's rogue, well -- throwing down a divine death sentence on him was like ripping off the seal on whatever semblance of decency he had left.

After leaving the Temple, ol' Mako made west, for the Kobashi Isles. As the songs go, the beautiful bastard killed a Wind Dragon -- yeah, he knew about the curse -- and crafted himself a suit of armor from the scales and bones. The sonofabitch fulfilled their prophecy. Got himself crowned Emperor of the Four Winds. Course, the dragon armor fused to his body after a while. Eventually, he lost his humanity and set to flying around the isles, whipping up typhoons for fun. The sailors weren't having that. Not good for trade, you see. So, with heavy hearts and sharpened spears, the Kobashi slew their emperor. Hell of a way to go.

Speakin' of hell -- Loraina was the only one of us that refused to accept the doom. That was just like her, course. High Magus of the Order of Pentus, she wasn't gonna take a God's curse laying down. Not her. She knew that the only way to break the curse was to kill the Sleeping God. So, first thing she did was transfer her soul into a phylactery. Yeah. She went full lich. I mean, the audacity! The style! She had half the Eastern Holy Empire chasing after her for heresy and I was cheering her on the whole way. Well, with her soul out of play, Loraina set out hunting for a Hell Mouth. And she found one, up north in the Kazbarian Mines. The Earthen will say there's nothing but bones and blight in there, after they dug too deep. But what's a little blight to a lich? So, Loraina goes to the mines and forces her way down the Hell Mouth! Yeah. Loraina bullied her way into hell. Gods, I loved that woman. Down in hell, she bound herself a daemon and forced it to reveal how to kill the Sleeping God.

Now, at this point you gotta understand something. If you were to tell me that the only way to kill an Old God was love, I'd spit in your eye and kick you in the shin. On principal! We all know the Seven Sisters murdered the Titans with daggers carved from dead branches taken from the Elder Tree. Shit, even children know that. So when a daemon says that the only way to kill an Old God is love? Well. I wouldn't have bought it either.

And neither did Loraina. The beautiful bastard worked her way down the Nine Rings, conquering each Lord of Hell, one after the other, until finally reaching the Woman In White at the heart of the Ninth Ring. Now, at this point it's only hearsay, but as I heard it, when Loraina demanded the Woman In White reveal the Sleeping God's weakness, she invited Loriana to a cup of tea. I imagine conquering hell must be thirsty work, and Loriana always did love a cup of spiced chamomile. But the water the Woman in White boiled was the waters of oblivion. The waters she washes souls with before throwing them into the wheel of reincarnation. So, poor Loraina sips her tea and loses herself completely. The rest is the rest. The Woman in White broke her phylactery and chucked her soul into the wheel.

But before she was obliterated, the world knew of Loraina's conquest of hell. I made sure of it.

You see, I may have just been a mere sell-sword. My job was always to leap into battle first, to keep my party safe. But what good was a sword when faced with certain doom?

After I left the Tomb of Night, I knew what to do. I bade my companions farewell and headed south, to the Endless Wood. The Lewishi tree speakers did not take kindly to outsiders. But their tradition of Song-Song did allow for bards and tellers to enter their lands with hospitality. And what better story was there than the one about the party that woke the Sleeping God?

Soon, I was ushered to the Lewishi capital, Falindran, the canopy city. And there it was that I made my gambit. In exchange for the location of the Tomb, I demanded the right to enter the Forest Spirit's labyrinth. The Falindrani chieftain refused my demand, but by then the entire city had heard my tale and demanded more. More stories from the Doomed swordsman. The only thing a Lewishi loves more than being left alone is a good story. So, reluctantly, the chieftain granted me passage so long as I tell the tale of my journey.

The thing about the Forest Spirit's Labyrinth was that it was easy to navigate, as long as you didn't fear death. Gnarled tenders burst free from the dirt and swung their massive branches, sure. But it was the fox spirits that really posed a threat. Invading your mind. Making you see your worst fears. Well, when they invaded my mind, it was like touching a hot stove with your bare ass. They went running. Whatever it was they saw in there (I assume the curse) was worse than whatever mind magic they wielded.

After a week, out of food and water, dragging my chipped sword behind me, I reached the heart of the labyrinth. There, the Forest Spirit waited. She wasn't as pretty as Loraina, and her eyes weren't as hard as Mako's, but she wore a pure white robe, like Helios. But unlike Helios, her was sheer, near damn translucent. Also, she was green.

She rose from her wooden throne and stalked toward me, and when she ran her finger across my breastplate, little shoots sprouted and withered. "What is it you seek, bane-touched?" she asked. "Know that I cannot undo what has been done. But there is more to life than death, yes?"

I knew she couldn't break the Sleeping God's Doom. Nothing could. But she could give me something no one or nothing else could.

"A lute," I said. "A lute that needs no skill to play. One that honeys my voice and limbers my tongue. I've got songs to sing and stories to tell, and I don't have the time to smarten up my fingers and voice."

Her laugh was like a gurgling creek. "Is that all?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Then you know the price."

I started taking off my clothes.

The price was paid and by the time I finished strapping on my breastplate, she was already showing. The Forest Spirit walked over to a gnarled oak, and, when she held out her hands, a thick branch fell and she caught it. The wood rippled and stretched in her hands, as if she were molding clay, until it formed the shape of a lute. Then she plucked her emerald hair and twisted the strands into stings. Finally, she whispered into the instrument, and it glowed amber for a moment. And with that she was done.

I left my sword in the labyrinth, and more. But what I left with was worth the price.

I travelled the world, investigating into the deeds of my party, turning their deeds into tales and songs. I went to every tavern, every square, every court of renown and performed for every ear.

Helios the Burning, Mako the Divine Wind, Loraina the Soulless, and me -- Tabin the Tongue.

If you're reading this, then the Doom has taken me. How? I cannot say for sure. But if you know, if you heard how I met my glorious end, take my lute and tell them. Tell them all. Tell them how Tabin did not fear the curse of a god. Tell them how he lived ... and died.

*****

THE END