Shattered Moonstone

Wolf slumped against the wall of the ship, again checking his surroundings before looking down at the magic circle painted onto the cargo hold floor, thankful that the elven guards seemed more than happy to ignore him as long as he was on the ship. 

Steeling his resolve, he cautiously moved to the side of the hold, he knew what he was about to do was illegal in most of the world, a ritual frowned upon by mages worldwide but… “I am too weak.” He muttered, grabbing the large tightly wrapped sack.  

Even with the skill granted to him by the “twins” he doubted he would be able to protect himself, more or less this ship, alone, and his crew didn’t respect or trust him… he was just too weak. Just as countless times in his life before he cursed whatever gods ruled over fate, whatever power granted affinities; whatever being cursed him with this power. Whomever cursed him with a life full of fear, hiding what he was; praying every day that he could become something, anything, else. Every day suppressing his aura, avoiding the church and their inspections at all cost; running from any form of commitment out of fear of being discovered… “and here I am now… doing exactly what I swore I would never do.” He couldn’t help but smirk as he dropped the sack in the middle of the circle with a dull thud. 

Necromancy may not be illegal, but it is still frowned upon; forcing those who have the affinity for it to live as outcast, shackled by society to never use their power outside of what the churches deem “safe”. Always living under a microscope as people around them wait for any sign of weakness, a slip up, a reason to say they were right about the evil necromancers… 

Wolf balled his hands into fists as he took a deep breath, his entire life flashing though his mind as he slowly, carefully, let his magic circulate through his body. For the first time in years, he let his magic fill his entire body, its chilling power filling his veins with the vile power he had spent his entire life trying to suppress. 

The day he had learned he was a necromancer, the way his mother had cried, the sorrowful look on his father’s face knowing his son would share the same fate as himself. They tried to shelter him, to protect him. teaching him how to suppress his power; His mother insisted that he never cast magic, instead training how to be a proper young man, how to read and write, to carry himself in hopes that he could maybe someday break free of the life he had been given. His father taught him how to hide away his power, teaching him magical control and guiding him on gaining a second affinity in case he was ever discovered in hopes he could play off a residual mana as a weak affinity.

He let the breath out in a long-suffering sigh as he recalled years of training, clawing his way to a water affinity that was so weak it could barely be called an affinity. After all, Necromancers aren’t exactly known for their overwhelming power, being weaker than even incompetent adventures in terms of raw power; their small mana pools making it very difficult for them to train in any magic other than their affinity, even force casting spells outside their affinity being far too taxing to be of use yet for the first time in his life he had been happy. Truly happy, because with that single step forward he was no longer a tainted necromancer, no, he was a mage; a proper mage who could cast clean cleansing magic instead of the vile death magic that now coursed through him.

But all good things come to an end. Wolf’s water affinity was a learned affinity and as such, was much weaker in comparison to his peers; compiled with his small mana capacity he quickly hit the cap of his capabilities and has long since stagnated in his growth in that aspect. And again, Wolf found himself tossed to the side with nowhere to go, just barely strong enough to be placed above the average man, but too weak to be anything more than a tag along to those around him; always pushed to the side, hiding in the shadows barely scraping by on the lie he had shielded himself with for so long, a lie he had repeated until his throat was hoarse… a lie he wished for so desperately that he had fooled even himself to believing it was possible. 

Then even his lie fell apart when they came, the inquisition going street by street with their high level inspection spells would have seen through him with little more than a glance reminding him again of the ever present shackle around him, forcing him to run away from the false normalcy he had built around himself. Fleeing in a false hope that he could find somewhere he could rebuild his lie, hide behind his shield and maybe just maybe he could be a normal man again. That’s when he met them, the women who tore through his lies with the ease of stepping on an ant.

Wolf had no delusions of power, no desire for anything but a normal life, but then he stood before them. He tried desperately to hide away from them when they arrived, but what hope could his lies made to fool mortals have against the all mighty destruction of those two? 

The kind gaze of a young noblewoman, her small frame hiding a destructive power that would cause even the most powerful court mages to quiver at her feet. The deity that extended a hand to him, showing him a lie so well woven even the gods themselves would never have unraveled it. The god that wears a mask of a kind caring girl, Amethyst, the Singularity. The girl who with the confidence of a true monster strode onto the ship of two heroes and all but dared them to defy her. And when they had, when they stood against her and revealed her paper-thin illusion, she punished them with the casual ease of a parent scolding a child. She may say it was a hard fight, but Wolf knew in his heart that the only difficulty Amethyst had in that battle was holding back. The deity that is too kind for her own good. 

He believed now that from the moment they met Amethyst knew exactly what he was, why she decided to shield him from her more… eccentric sister, he was not sure. Why she would still show him, a necromancer, such kindness was lost on him. Why would she bother protecting him from the curious monster that he had somehow garnered the attention of? But that’s a mystery he assumed he would never know, right beside why “she” took so much interest in him.

The all-consuming madness of the girl who laughed even as she lay in a pool of her own blood, her body torn to ribbons by a man who was Wolf’s better in every aspect, a man who stood at the peak of human power, a hero. The monstrosity with the face of a young woman, the glimmering madness that danced in her eyes barely contained behind the cracked mask of sanity, Hecatolite the Mad Devour. She was a monster unlike any Wolf had ever even heard about, a true monster that could have just as easily crushed him with the same effort of asking a question. and yet for some reason she didn’t.

Why Hecatolite had taken an interest in him, why from the moment they met to now she had followed him around dragging out his deepest secret, ripping away the veil he had hid behind his entire life and forcing him into the light. Why the monster, and she was a monster, had shown him even a shred of kindness as she smiled at him with the same foolish grin she showed everyone else. It was no surprise that his necromantic nature had not surprised Hecatolite but even still for her to just openly accept it and move past it was… underwhelming. 

He had spent his entire life afraid, hiding from others who might discover his abilities and then they came along and… waved it off. Ss if it was nothing, what had he been so scared of all this time? Just a year ago he was terrified of being ousted as Necromancer but now, it felt so foolish. Now that he has not only stood before them but had been judged and forgiven, what did he have to hide? Not only had they just accepted him they thrust him into a position of power, entrusting him not only with their belongings but another human life. A year ago he stood in the back alleys of a tiny fishing village on the edge of Algamir, spending his days keeping his head down trying not to draw attention to himself and now, now here he was spending his day talking to Elven elders, being interrogated by dignitaries from far off lands because of… well them.

And what did he do to deserve this all? Nothing, he just existed. Blessed by two gods because he was an oddity? Because the insane machinations of a monster that had never met a necromancer before? 

His conversation with the elven elder, Astari, had shown Wolf just how undeserving of his position he was. How little he was prepared to lead others, how little he had actually known of etiquette; the elder easily dominated the conversation as he pulled everything Wolf knew about his benefactors. After Wolf was dismissed, the Elder clearly getting what he wanted from him and sending him away like a stray dog, he was ashamed. Having had circles talked around him he vowed to study, to better himself as to never have to feel the hollow pit of uncertainty again, to wonder if maybe he had over shared or stepped out of line. 

But before that, he had other concerns. Having lost control of his crew earlier that day, Wolf felt weak. How could he command a ship that didn’t respect him, how could he protect Saris if he can’t even stand on his own? Needing a literal goddess at his back to deal with a handful of uppity sailors.

 “I’m pathetic.” He hissed as he ground his teeth together, the helpless feeling in his stomach gnawing away at him as he sank to his knees. “Never again.” He slammed his hands onto the ground and began chanting.

Wolf was weak, he knew that. He was just a single man, a human being but he was not powerless. He had spent his entire life running from what he was, but now, now he needed it. The power he had hidden away, the one thing that made him different. Wolf was a necromancer, chosen by the Twins of Twilight, husband of Saris, captain of the pirate ship Styx, and he would do everything in his power to live up to those titles.

Nearly two hours later he stood, wiping sweat from his brow as he heard a slight ding in the back of his mind.

“Titles “Necromancer” and “Captain” have merged into… ERROR, unable to obtain title “Ferryman”… error… error… titles rearranged, title created, “Cheron”. Titles “Necromancer”, “Captain”, and “spiritualist” merged into “Charon of Styx”. Skills merged, “form skeleton” and “form zombie” have merged into “create lesser undead”. “Create lesser undead” has evolved into “create undead”. “Astral suppression” has evolved into “spectral bind”. “Spectral bind” has merged with “create undead” to form “create bound undead”. “Command undead” has evolved into “Control undead”. Congratulations, skills gained, “Create bound undead” and “control undead”. Title gained, “Charon of Styx”.”

He staggered as the torrent of information slammed into him. He had expected something like this, having ignored his necromancy for so long he had expected a sudden leap in skills but a new title? He had never heard of titles merging, though he did know skills could so why titles he supposed. But what was that about a title he couldn’t get? and one had to be “created” in its place?

As he shook his head he felt a pair of strong hands land on his shoulders in an attempt to steady him; the shock pulling him from his daze as he looked up into the milky eyes that had a very faint green glow to them, the undead gaze of his creation not bothering him as he realized that it… moved… on its own? To catch him? they shouldn’t do that, should they?

“I’m fine.” He said bushing off the man’s hands, the zombie he created stepping back to stand unmoving in the middle of the room. He gave the man a once over, checking him for any abnormalities aside from the gaping hole in the middle of his chest. “Everything looks fine.” He said pointing to a large crate in the corner. “Pick that up and place it over there.” 

The zombie did as instructed, moving the crate with unnatural ease. Wolf nodded as the man moved, “Good, well…” he paused as he realized he had forgotten the man's name. “I guess that’s not important,” he tapped his chin. “I can't really just call you zombie, can I? It would be off putting to the rest of the crew. but what should I call you?”

“How about Rigor, like rigor-mortis?” 

“That’s… not bad, Rigor.” Wolf nodded, inspecting the zombie once again. The zombie, Rigor, stared back at him with unblinking eyes. Wolf had never actually raised a zombie before, but he knew the general practice. He has raised a few skeletons, albeit of small mice and such, but this felt different. Skeletons were a construct, held together loosely by magic, but this… this was an entire body. Muscle and bone, hell he hadn’t even removed any of the organ aside from what Hecatolite had removed of the man’s heart. In all actuality, zombies were considered a higher undead though, capable of basic thoughts and reasoning… “I wonder if it has part of a soul? like a ghost? Just to be safe,” he walked up to Rigor and tapped him on the chest, “let’s say, 5 years? After that you’ll be free to rest. Consider it a punishment for trying to perform a mutiny on my ship.”

He knew that soul magic could bind souls, but he also knew that binding a soul was the line he would not cross. It's that very practice that had given Necromancers their bad name after all, no one likes the idea of eternal slavery or being denied their afterlife. This way he could… 

He heard another ding.

“Skill, form contract obtained.” 

“Really?” Wolf gasped, “It can’t be that easy to get that skill.” He knew merchants had it, it wasn’t even that uncommon. But he got it by talking to a lifeless corpse?...

 “Terms rejected by Rigor, appeal made to Veritas goddess of contracts… Verbal contract, “indentured servitude for damages rendered” has been revoked by the goddess Veritas. The goddess Veritas has edited the terms of the contract and suggested a lighter sentence. Proposed sentence, 2 years on account of “disproportionate punishment for damages caused” will you accept the new terms?”

“Rejected? What… I mean… sure?” Wolf said out loud before he felt a strange warmth blossom inside of his own chest as an odd glow appeared inside of the hole where Rigor’s heart would have been.

“Verbal contract formed with zombie, Rigor. Rigor will perform tasks given to him for the duration of 2 years or until destroyed, whichever comes first. In 2 years time, Necromancer “Wil… Plague” will be able to renegotiate the terms of this contract. At any time, necromancer “W… Plague” can break this contract and subsequently put Rigor to rest prior to the 2-year mark however, given this a “punishment” contract, zombie “Rigor” will be unable to break this contract. Veritas asks that you refrain from allowing any third parties from interfering in the formation of contracts in the future, be they mortal or divine.” 

“Skill, “Control undead” has been lost. Skill “bound undead” has merged with “create contract” into “soul contract”, trait unlocked, “negotiation”. Prefix “Psychopomp” has been added to your title, “Charon of Styx.” Title gained, “Psychopomp, Charon of Styx.” 

“That can't be right!” He nearly yelled as the message played in his mind. It couldn’t be that easy, all these years of stagnation and in the matter of minutes he gets several new skills and even merged them? And even gets an entire new title, with a prefix and everything! Those are rare, skills with prefixes mean that the person has done something above and beyond what even the system thinks their abilities should allow, and one on a title means the world itself thinks you exceeded your titles qualifications… “It has to be the damn blessings. That’s it, Hecatolite and Amethyst’s weird deity magic must be… hold on one second. It said something about someone messing with the contract?” Wolf suddenly felt uneasy as he realized something. 

He was alone, in the cargo hold of the ship with a body; well a zombie, but zombies cant talk. So, who had suggested the name to him?

He slowly turned around to see two glimmering red eyes peering at him through the door that led to the stairs.

“Hey plague,” a cheerful voice called to him, “Nice night to defile the dead huh? You're not going to, you know.” the voice asked, he was sure she was making some kind of obscene gesture but it was lost in the shadows. “Because if you are… would that be cheating? I mean it’s a zombie you made, so a very advanced form of masturbation? But it’s got a soul stuck in it, so… would that be…” there was a short pause before suddenly Hecatolite rushed him, grabbing his arms. “I can’t let you do that, you know. The guy was a jerk, and deserves to be punished, sure, but you're better than that. right? I mean you didn’t make him a slave or anything either, I know, so you wouldn’t…”

“I am not going to have sex with a zombie.” Wolf deadpanned as he tried to step away from her, “What are you even doing here? And a soul?”

“I got bored, felt you were doing some weird voodoo magic and came to see.” She beamed at him, her tail wagging behind her. “And yea, got the guy's soul stuck in there. Though it's not all of it, kind of like… part of it. I’m guessing that’s how it moves. Good thing you did the whole contract thing too, slavery is bad you know. If you go around trapping souls for no good reason, I’ll have to eat you.” She nodded happily as she walked around, “Aww the fancy spell circle disappeared, I wanted to look at it.” 

“It was a ritual circle,” He sighed, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach at her words. The harmless threat to “eat” him carried a lot of weight when spoken by someone who actually has eaten people before. “It’s used to contain the mana during the spell and then it burns up as part of the spell. Can we go back to the whole “Eat” me thing?”

“Really, never seen a ritual before. I will have to ask Eryl about it.” she turned her attention to Rigor, walking around him in a circle poking him in several places. “Good thing I missed his spine I guess.” She said, jabbing a finger into the zombie’s chest. “blaa, he’s cold.” She said, shaking a glob of congealed blood off her finger. “And yea, eat you. Wolf, I cannot allow someone I hired to go around stripping people of their free will. You can’t trap souls forever either, I…” Hecatolite paused, turning her head from side to side before speaking. “I don’t know why. But I just feel it, you know? A rumbling in my gut, that if you were to trap a soul indefinitely, strip it of its free will… I will eat you. And I don’t want to eat you, so it’s a good thing you did that. This is good. The contract’s a good thing, this way you can still be a badass lord of the undead and eventually the soul gets to go wherever souls go after they die. He gets punished for being a dick, and everyone’s happy.”

“Don’t souls get reincarnated?”

“If I don’t eat them they do.” She smiled at him again, her sharp teeth sending a shiver down his spine. “So, what are you going to do with the meat sack anyway? Thought you didn’t like doing the whole raising the dead thing.”

Wolf pinched his nose as a dull throb began in his head, much like every time he spoke with Hecatolite he could feel the headache forming as she lifted herself on her tail and poked the zombie in the nose. “He is for Saris; I can’t always rely on you to keep the crew in line and I can’t always be by her side. So, I figured this is the least I can do.”

“Well… You know, giving your wife a tall muscular man servant who can’t disobey her orders isn’t the weirdest wedding present I’ve ever heard of. Good on you for being confident enough in your relationship to trust her with,” she paused gesturing to the large naked zombie. “This. I mean not exactly my cup of tea, you know, but Rigor here was definitely not compensating in life. Damn thing could be used as a club.”

“He is going to be a bodyguard!” Wolf yelled, causing her to laugh, “It's not… the damn thing wouldn’t even work on a zombie. You know that right?”

“Really?” Hecatolite’s raised eyebrow told him he didn’t believe her. “Regardless of your guy’s bedroom fun, you should probably get him some armor. Maybe a sword. And a mask, you know since everyone kind of watched him die.”

“Why are you here?” Wolf groaned as he kicked the large crate he had Rigor move before, the lid opening to show an almost complete set of armor and a sword, along with a full mask helmet.

Hecatolite picked the helmet up and nodded, “Good job. You know how many people ignore head protection?” With a nail she quickly carved something onto the inside of the helmet and tossed it to Rigor. It bounced harmlessly off his chest and clattered to the floor. “Huh, not very bright is he?”

“He’s a zombie,” Wolf pointed at the crate, “Put this all on.” Rigor sprang to life, donning the armor with jerky movements.

“And I already told you, I was bored and felt weird voodoo magic, so I came to see what was going on.” She rolled her eyes, “You got to work on those listening skills if you're going to keep your wife happy.” She grabbed her bag from her hip and started digging in it, “But since we are here and talking about it.” She pulled a hand that was covered in jewelry out of her bag, along with half a dozen necklaces and bracelets. “Help me pick out a good gift.”

“A gift? For whom?”

“My wife, duh.” She shook her head as she piled the jewelry onto the floor. “You’re the only married guy I know around, so I figured you would know what to get a woman. I can’t give her a ring though, not yet at least. I’ll do that when I get back.”

“Did you forget I got married less than a month ago… by force?”

“And look how well you're doing! You already got Saris her very own zombie!” She slapped the floor with her tail, “I’m falling behind here, and I don’t know what to get her. Wait, it's not some tradition or something to get your wife a zombie, is it? Where would I even get one? Mom doesn’t have a zombie… But she does have a lot of maids…” Hecatolite let out a low growl as she pulled at her hair. “I really need help here Wolf. Come on, bro code and all that.”

“Bro… is that like the pirate code you made up?”

“I didn’t make it up! Just help me pick out a nice piece of jewelry ok! Something that goes with red skin, and I’ll even let you pick something out for Saris. Deal?”

“Red skin?”

“Well yea, red skin, black wings, and horns. She’s,” Hecatolite sighed, her shoulders sinking slightly as a smile blossomed on her face. A smile that honestly made Wolf feel… strange. Hecatolite always smiled, a wide toothy grin but this… this was different. This wasn’t the mad grin of the monster he was used to, but a small content smile tugging at her lips that flooded the room with a soft warmth. It took him a moment to even realize what was so different about it, but as she spoke it clicked. Her eyes, for the first time he could see Hecatolite’s eyes moved with her smile, ever so slightly squinting as she spoke about her wife. “She’s amazing. She’s so beautiful, and kind. She’s always so graceful, dignified even; whatever she does it's always so breathtaking just to see her, I really can’t wait to get home and see her again… I don't deserve her, you know? She's too good to me, too understanding… I’m kind of a bad wife…” After a moment she blinked, the warm smile being consumed by the grin she normally wore as she went on. “That’s why you have to help me pick something! Something good, something that will compliment her, tell her that I really do lo… miss her.” It was strange to him, that she of all people would get caught up on that single word. But, who was he to pry into it? “And write a letter, you're good with those flowery words, right?”

“Why not ask…” He stopped when he remembered Amethyst. Sure, the girl was “smart” but she was still young, and he doubted Hecatolite wanted to ask Eryl about this given the two’s… relationship. “Fine,” he resigned himself to whatever this “bro code” was as he looked down at the jewelry. “But you have to help me pick one for Saris.”

“Deal.” She grinned as she pulled several bracelets off the disembodied arm.

---

Veritas sat in the shared realm, going over what had been shared just the other day, was truly at a loss. What was she to make of the new developments in the world, Valor has clearly broken the unspoken contract with the divine but could she really view it as such? Yes there was a general understanding that no single divine would in fact attempt to take over the world, but it was not a contract. Never once had they sat down and actually discussed what the divine should, and should not do; and as such she had no right to intervene. But there had been an understanding when he had taken the position as the head of the holy court that he would look out for the best interest of all the divine, and he has surely not done that. But would that be enough to bring the full weight of her domain against him? If he had threatened her, made a move directly against her it would be one thing; but as it stands now…

Just as she was mulling it over she received a strange notification. “That is odd.” Was all she said as she glanced at the appearing terminal. Rarely does a contract actually make it to Veritas herself, given one must have a high level contract making skill to even request a divine ruling over it, even then most of them are handled by her various followers before they even make it to the goddess.

But that wasn’t the only oddity about it, it was a verbal contract? Those shouldn’t even register in her domain, yes they are a binding agreement but they are typically flimsy at best. Unless the two making the agreement are kings, even then it's rather touchy on whether or not a verbal agreement is enforceable without a… “Really?” She grabbed the terminal, “That is the witness?” Her wings fluttered behind her as she read the contract. It becoming clear why it came directly to her now, after all there was a divine soul involved in its formation.

It was a straight forward agreement, one person has slighted the other and they are demanding remittance in the form of manual labor. Though it was a flimsy contract, “It doesn’t even state the form of labor. It just says “work for me for 5 years”. What did this man even do?” She couldn’t help but sigh as she activated her domain, allowing her to “see” the actions leading up to the contract to better judge its validity.

“He… He already gave his life for it?” She couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose at the idea of forcing someone to work after death. But then again “she” was involved wasn’t she? That deity, Hecatolite, had played a part in all of it; even being the one to kill the man before receiving payment. It was even one of her chosen attempting to make the contract… “Since when do necromancers form contracts with their undead? Don’t they normally just dominate them and go about their business?”

She read over it again, “The man did attempt a mutiny, which breaches the working agreement he had with the former captain of the ship. However, the ship changed hands twice since he was brought aboard so that contract would have needed to be renegotiated, as far as I can tell he was well within his right to attempt to take over the ship as he had no standing agreement with the current captain.” She tapped the terminal with a finger, “The agreement that Hecatolite forced on the entire crew to “be cool and not attack them” was also formed under duress, and as such cannot be counted for or against his actions.” With a swift motion she plucked a feather from her wing, and using the long black feather as a quill she tapped the terminal.

“This contract is being formed under duress as the man is currently dead and magically bound to agree to this necromancers…”just as she was about to dismiss the contract, tapping terminal with her feather, it flared to life.

“Message from X47, the Mad Devourer. Shhh! Be quiet, I don’t want him to know I’m here. Dim the stupid screen! Damn it, don't write all that… Fine, it's fine, just start recording now… No not that too, stupid box just start over…. What do you mean you can't start over! I swear I am going to have Eryl erase you! Yes I still want to send the damn… Fine. Ahem, dear…What’s her name again? The goddess of agreements? Albatross? Like the big bird? Oh, Veritas, that’s a pretty name, is she cute? I mean she’s a goddess like Siofra, are all goddesses beautiful? Aww why are you still recording! Damn it Inutil, you better not send it!” 

Veritas was… unsure of what to make of the message. On one hand, she knew this Hecatolite was dangerous, and a… bit mad, Siofra had told them that much. But that message was…

Suddenly the terminal flashed again, the very screen itself cracking as it flickered. “Message from X47, the Mad Devourer. Dear Veritas, if you receive a message before this one, please disregard it. I am having trouble with the system; dumb box thinks its so smart. If you were so smart, you’d have grown arms to block with… I stuck my tongue out right there, I know you can’t see me. I have a spell for that if you want facetime… Oh yea getting distracted. So, yea, Plague is trying to make a contract with his undead guy, right? That would explain the weird magic floating around, and then there was a very small trace of aether, that’s you right? You have super pretty aether by the way, it's all shimmery and silver... Regardless! I guessed it was your aether and wanted to know if he was doing a good job with his contract, I mean it sounded good to me, Rigor was kind of a dick in his life. Before he died he wanted to do bad things to my sister! Like really… not good things. So, I shot him. I didn’t expect Plague to well… revive him, didn’t know zombies came with souls either! Learn something new every day. But yea, so I kind of need this contract thingy to work, otherwise it's like slavery! And that’s really not ok, but if it’s a contract it's ok. Plague is the necromancer by the way, Rigor is the zombie. Like Rigor-Mortis, get it? Wait, why didn’t it write down my laugh? What do you mean laughing isn’t words? Whatever, I laughed, I hope you laughed too. But Plague is a good guy who doesn’t want slaves, but he is a necromancer so he kind of needs zombies, can’t be an undead lord without undead you know? So, if you could like, I don’t know, look over the contract and be sure it's airtight? That’s what you do right? Like a lawyer goddess? Do you wear glasses and a suit? Wow this is super long, why did I get involved again? What do you mean you don’t know? Stupid box, you're supposed to keep notes on these things so I don’t get confused! Whatever… you’re a bird woman right? What’s it like having wings? Is it like having a tail? It's hard finding clothes for tails, do you have trouble finding clothes for wings? I mean it's got to be hard to find a suit for wings. Word limit? Again, with this word limit crap… Yes, I think you're just making it up! Fine! Ok, so Plague, good. Rigor, bad. Oh, did you know Valor is a goat in disguise? He’s definitely a goat who took the form of a human when he became a god. Yes, he is. If he wasn’t a goat, why would he eat grass? How would you know dumb box, have you ever met a shape shifting goa…”

Veritas just set the terminal aside, her eyes widening as she leaned back. “That was… definitely something.” She finally said after a moment. “So that was Hecatolite, the woman Siofra and Ashmit think will stop Valor?” She let out a long sigh, ignoring the long winded Deity for a moment before looking back at the verbal contract between this necromancer and a zombie. “I guess I could treat it like a short-term familiar contract, but 5 years still seems a bit harsh.”