Mixed Blessings

{{Fiction
 * author=Andrew Getting;
 * hasSetting=Larisnar
 * storyBody====Three years ago. Before the Assassins' Strike. Gods' Eye.===

White light enveloped them - the gods, the saints, the servitors and the moon itself. In the days following the First War, they had chosen this to be their sanctuary and observatory, the better to watch over the mortal realm and keep the peace between each other. Only the most enlightened, the most faithful, the most serene souls had ever trod upon Gods' Eye's featureless landscape, and all who had envied the peaceful nature of the plane.

Some days maintaining the illusion was easier than others.

"You cannot let this stand!" Ishara howled with the fury of a hurricane, her presence powerful and distant even to Fineltour. Her form was almost indistinctly elemental, a faintly humanoid giantess of the seas' waters. "In a thousand years, we've not seen the likes of such heroes, and you would let them fall?!"

"Please, Mother, let them finish," a slighter man asked. Neus had long since abandoned his true face to the many incarnations his human followers preferred; now, here in plain robes, he had taken the aspect of scholar. "The heroes are not yet lost, and I've little doubt our unwarranted meddling here could not help but worsen their chances. The mortals must learn to serve themselves as much as they serve us."

"Even so," grumbled a warrior in ancient Deverenian plate, "these ‘Medusan Lords' have acted without precedent. I think your mother only wise to seek precaution."

"Oh, calm down, Albrecht," said another woman, who laughed heartily. Fires danced around and through Kavara's red hair. "A little chaos does us wonders. It saved you, did it not?"

"Now, now," Fineltour spoke up. "If we keep arguing, we're not going to have the time to solve anything. It's only a few more weeks until the next conjunction, and we'll have nothing better to do with our time while we can't see the mortal world."

"Our... fellow is correct." As Albrecht spoke the required compliment, he glowered at Fineltour, and the thief-god smiled inside. "If we are to interfere, we must do so immediately."

Neus sighed. "We have little to discuss, then. Kavara and I wish to remain apart, and you and Mother seek a direct hand in the worldly affairs. We are deadlocked."

"What of Kasugoan?" asked Kavara. "He has an agent in the world once more."

Albrecht shook his head. "As does Kamatayon. Until they resolve themselves, we must respect their wishes."

"Must we?" Kavara asked, smiling.

"What else are we to do, then?" Ishara spoke up, her voice as forceful as a cascading waterfall. "The exiled gods do not answer us, or those that would, we would not heed. We cannot invoke the Storm for aid."

"What if we send an agent, rather than our avatars?" Neus asked. "Would that compromise meet with your approval?"

"It did not work the previous times," Ishara reminded. "The celestials either disappear or fall afoul of corruption."

"Our servant would not be away long, though," Albrecht mused. "Even the likes of the Medusan Lords would be hard-pressed to fight our champion."

"'Our' champion, Albrecht?" Kavara cackled. "Had I known that you needed playmates to be comfortable uniting our energies, I'd have suggested it long ago."

Neus shook his head, barely revealing a smile. "Very well, then. I offer up wisdom and restraint, that our creation limits his presence to what is necessary." A light separated itself from the endless purity of Gods' Eye. Fineltour circled around the other gods, enjoying the spectacle.

"I share the power and will to act decisively when the time is right," Kavara whispered, and the light burned at her words.

"The righteousness of our cause will guide him as surely as the oceans flow into the sun," Ishara intoned, and the light stared at its masters, its new eyes focusing on each in turn.

"I grant our creation a measure of heroism," Albrecht commanded, and the light stood as a man. Fineltour could barely see it from behind the paladin-god. "I bestow a measure of nobility, that he might inspire others in turn."

"Why stop there?" Fineltour asked, then pushed Albrecht bodily into the half-formed lambent energies. As the two touched, the light flashed brighter even than the moon itself, and then god and servant were gone.

"What did you do, trickster?" Ishara asked, a typhoon building within her. "What did you do?"

"Me?" Fineltour asked, feigning shock at Ishara's outrage. "I cast my vote, the one you uptight snoots forgot to count. Albrecht was so intent on involving himself, now he doesn't have much choice."

"Fineltour, my sweet, have I ever told you how much I love your pranks?" Kavara asked, her voice crackling like embers. "There's a reason I haven't."

"Oh, calm down, you two." Fineltour shrugged, and backed away from the angry gods. "Neus, tell them."

"His approach," Neus spoke as he read over a newly-wrought scroll, "unorthodox and uncalled for as it is, is not without merit. It is as Albrecht's avatar, but our own blessings temper it further."

"And what of Albrecht himself?" Ishara asked. "I did not protect him only to lose him now."

"Albrecht will be fine, Mother, I assure you," Neus offered. "He will do all that we asked of him and more. Even if slain, he would only return here, as he once was."

"So nothing could further complicate matters?" Kavara asked. "I somehow doubt we'll be that lucky."

"No, but perhaps a little insurance is warranted..." Ishara whispered, then lunged at Fineltour, pouring her watery body over him. "You wanted a part in this, Fineltour. Do it."

Fineltour swam inside Ishara's body, choking in her endlessness. Finally, he nodded his head furiously, and Ishara parted herself, spilling him forward.

"I offer..." Fineltour began, then coughed up some of Ishara. "I offer him a name, that his fate might be his own, apart from Albrecht's. He is Raath."

Meanwhile, in Baraxton.
Nassiral Hate's red eyes blinked away the vision. He forced himself to look away from Gods' Eye, and from his parapet he gazed over his newly-won city.

"What did you see?" a voice from his belt asked him. Hate opened the pouch, and removed the deck of cards. He held each up in the moonlight in turn, until he at last saw the voice's origin. A great, horned nothrog glared back from a half-ruined face. "What has happened?"

"You were right, Malrog," Hate answered. "We've drawn the attention of the gods."

"Excellent. Is our catspaw in place?" Malrog asked.

"If not now, then shortly," Hate replied.

Malrog's portrait nodded on the card. "Then it is time to put the gods in their place. Give the order, Hate, and the usual offered reward..." }}