For just one hour he prayed, for a shield of stone and light, and the eyes of the sky. He could spare no more, but no less. Danger would slowly and surely present itself, but the storm would arrive soon, as well.
Through the gates of Daris did the man stride, his blade ready. For a time he walked through the forest, and all was right. It almost seemed like a fine summer day. The bears and boars peacefully roamed, as usual. The dwarves stood guard by their cave. The trees stood tall and motionless. The woods were indeed sleepy.
This sense of safety immediately vanishes when three Varanite soldiers waited for him at the next set of gates.
"Runnin away, are ya?" one taunted in a thick Varanite accent. "Ye're just leavin' yer home behind, whi' it gets destroyed?"
The travelling man knew his answer was not necessary, and swiftly beheaded the soldier. The other two were caught off-guard, and were pierced cleanly by the Elvish blade.
Running along the path, the man saw no other Varanite soldiers. He passed the usual oddity of this path, an enclosed area, free of trees, with a God-strong door. He did not bother to investigate, but stopped abruptly as he reached the next gates. Fumbling through his pack, he found a chipped piece of white stone--stone common to two statues, the Dasar and Daris recall statues. He threw it at the structure, and it split in two. Nothing happened, so he walked on.
Forty minutes passed, and he had reached the third gate. He had cut down some interfering soldiers again, but his blade had been broken this time. Sighing, he brandished his greataxe, and ran.
His patron diety had granted him temporary sanctuary. A collection of nymphs guarded the fourth gate. There would be no trouble here. At least, there might not have been, if the sanctuary hadn't broken the moment. The woodland guardians cut at him with the teeth of long dead cougars. He held them off, but there were a surprisingly large amount of them. One pierced his stomach, and he could hold no longer . . . Calling out at the top of his lungs to the sky, a great flame came down upon his attackers, smiting them. Blue sparks played over his wound, sealing it. Scrambling up, he ran through.
Three trolls blocked his view of the forest's edge. Three trolls, he thought, should be the last of his troubles. He used half of his remaining energy to strike them down . . . And they fell. He walked.
The path was straight, and the trees were thick. The end was not far from here. He needn't run. No soldiers, nymphs, or trolls would strike him, of that he was sure. The wildlife had not been disturbed, so he would not be, either. He truly had a sanctified walk. Then he saw the orcs, and his axe split in two. Cursing under his breath, he quietly unsheathed a normal, petty sword . . . hopefully, he would not need to use it. Four out of the five orcs scattered, and he knew he'd been seen. One remained on the path, twenty feet away, staring straight at him and smiling. His dark face reflected nothing, yet his red and black armour was bright as Utu's domain.
"The King has been overthrown."
No . . .
He lifted the sword into the air, praying for one last pillar of fire. It did not come.
"The Veteran has been exciled."
No . . .
He charged at the orc, and the Druaga-demon's axe met the man's blade. They sparred, and steadily more of the orcs joined the fray. The man's every prayer remained unanswered, and he became desperate. The storm was directly overhead now. To the south he could hear the sounds of battle. All five orcs cut at him now. The man knocked four of them back, and for an eternity the prime demon and the priest glared at eachother. Then the two blades came down: one long and petty, the other bulky and two-sided. The demon struck him in the chest, and Haru Nashi fell for the last time, staring into the orc's eyes.
"The dark one reigns free."
Everything went white, and Haru sat at a long table, clad in white robes. Around him friendly faces greeted him, and he recognized the idols of the land: Nergal and his wife Ereshkigal, Utu, Anu, Druaga, Marduk, Girru... the whole lot of them. They were also dressed in white. He sat in the middle of the table, and the seat opposite him was empty. Near the end of the table sat Enlil. He waved, then gestured to Ereshkigal, who sat by Nergal's side.
"I suppose I'm dead," the mortal finally said, to break the silence.
"Yes," came the dead mistress's voice.
". . . I'm confused. I thought . . ."
"What, that you'd be in a dank cave, made a slave by a cruel mistress to do impossible, pointless tasks?"
He did not answer.
"When mortal priests such as yourself attempt to 'raise' the dead, the dead are compelled to think they were in a horrible place. If they say otherwise, they never really died at all. All the dead join the Table of Gods, like you have right now. Of course, if you are risen you shall not know this, to prevent others from attempting to 'become gods'. You should note that does not happen. Gods are unique because they never lived. No mortal can ever achieve the status of a God.
"You shall have the opportunity to live here. There are beds in the room to your lup, and food in the room to your dight. You have not known these directions in life, but Nanna Sin will show you them. If at any time you are risen from the dead. . . it is your choice, to leave, or to stay. Every day at noon we play this board game, here. You shall be teamed with your patron diety, Enlil, and his followers. We ask you respect the rest of the players. Ultimately, the Gods make the decisions of the team.
"The hour is only thirteen, now. You may join in now, if you'd like. We're playing 'til five today. What do you say?"
The chair opposite him flashed a thousand faces at him, and he looked at the centre of the table. It was an eliptical board, and when he touched a large green shape, the board turned into a map. He touched a small settlement in the southeast of the map, and the map was replaced with an overhead view of Daris. There were corpses everywhere, and it was overrun with Varanites. Near the centre of seaside lay the body of his nephew. He looked up, and the boy sat in the opposite seat, smiling at him.
"Sure, just pass the dice."
