Between cities, Council of Bangivia.
38<sup>th</sup> of Samue, the month of Planting.
2290 years since the new gods came.
The dive bars you find on the outskirts of cities seem to be the place I either get the most or least amount of speciesism. Either they really don''t care, or they really do care. We should make Pondspell tomorrow.
39<sup>th</sup> of Samue,
Pondspell has a larger population of Dwarves than I expected. I went and visited Bjorn. Nice place. Some Idiot added a reasonable looking statue of me kneeling next to him. I had a good laugh about that. So did Bjorn. Well his statue did. The priest on duty fainted, and I left a bit later. No donation from me this time.
40<sup>th</sup> of Samue,
The caravan (and threre fore us) will be waiting another day or three for a delivery that was contracted to be taken to the Dwarven town of Newleigh.
42<sup>nd</sup> of Samue,
Delivery came in. We leave tomorrow. I''ve been dodging dwarves for a couple of days now.
43<sup>rd</sup> of Samue,
On the road again. I like the travel. I am glad I evaded the dwarves, Brandywine told me they were burning me in effigy in the temple last night. She may have participated. Most definitely did not participate.
44<sup>th</sup> of Samue,
Helped a smaller group fix a wagon. 8 dwarves have joined us.
45<sup>th</sup> of Samue,
Another wagon has joined the caravan. Another dwarf.
47<sup>th</sup> of Samue,
Five more days to Newleigh. We are up to 22 dwarves, with assorted gear and wagons.
*-*-*
Demon Lands
Laying across an ornate throne in an equally ornate room, an androgynous demon looked up from a well worn book at a dwarf who has walked into the room. “Good evening Vtev, how goes the plan?”
The dwarf slowly grows and twist, morphing into a large and hulking brute, with large pointed teeth and even larger clawed hands. Vtev took a knee, “Quite well your majesty. We have pushed the dwarves as much as we can, and now they are on the brink of a religious war. Soon they will be too busy with their own strife to assist as we start to destabilize the human kingdoms.”
“Excellent.”
Vtev looked up from his place on the floor, “My lord, if I may, where did you come up with this plan?”
“This old book, The Prince, by a man named Machiavelli.” The demon on the throne sits up, holding up the ancient book. “It is a very straightforward guide to statecraft. Perhaps when I am done, I will loan it to you.”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Very good my lord.”
“Now, I think a treat is in order, to celebrate the oncoming revolution.” The demon lord smiled. “Baby Harp Seal is on the menu tonight.”
*-*-*
48<sup>th</sup> of Samue,
Bjorn is now an Idiot. Give me a quest in my dreams will he... Of course I''m going to help him, but still, have some common decency!
- - -
“Sorry for this Maxwell, but this is the expected thing. Well this or sweeping you away in body.” Bjorn gave a dissatisfied smile.
“So, my dreams huh?” Max frowned. “What''s the problem?”
“Thank me. So glad I don''t have to do the spiel. Or The Voice.” Bjorn let out an godlike burp, “There is a religious schism forming in the mountains. About you.”
“Well shit.”
“Yup.” Bjorn shook his head. “A percentage of the clergy is advocating putting you in the realm of my saints. Another percentage is arguing for you to be cast as the evil defiler. A third is arguing that you are just a man stuck in a bad spot. The last, and most vocal group, are claiming that by our long association, you are a member at large of my pantheon of craft deities.”
“The hells I am any of those!” Max stopped for a moment, then added, “Well, I am just a guy stuck in a bad spot...”
“Pretty much.” For now. “Max, do you know how Dwarves fight civil wars?”
“No?”
“They collapse the mines and halls of their enemies. Crushing their opponents in their own homes.”
“...”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“Yeah. This is a problem.”
“Yup.” Bjorn sagged in the dream, “Will you help me in this time of need?”
“Yeah. Yeah I will.”
“Thank you.”
- - -
49<sup>th</sup> of Samue,
How do you stop a religious war without killing everyone? Rain has delayed us. The roads are covered in water, and the rich soil has turned to mud.
50<sup>th</sup> of Samue,
Brandy has been useless. The fuzzball at least looks at me when I speak. Kinda disturbing, actually. I have no plan, and will be arriving in the teeth of the problem soon. This will probable be messy.
51<sup>st</sup> of Samue,
More Dwarves have joined us. One of them bowed to me... What the hells do I do? At least no one else noticed?
52<sup>nd</sup> of Samue,
They stare at me. It is a bit unnerving. I guess I will need to have a chat with them.
53<sup>rd</sup> of Samue,
We had a ''chat''... I will probably be hungover in the morning. Stupid religion.
- - -
“Look you little grit-suckers, ''I'' am just a man.” Max looked at the assembled groups of dwarves. “Yes, I apparently can''t die. Yes, I know your god. Yes, we are drinking buddies. NO, I am NOT a god! No, I don''t want worshipers. Any other questions?”
A young dwarf looked up at the red faced, and clearly angry Max, “Um...Does this mean that the objectors were right? You aren''t any sort of deity? Not even an apostle?”
“YES!!!”
“Oh...shit...” The dwarf''s head drooped. “Can we still ask for your guidance when we make small crafts?”
Max raised an eyebrow at the question, “...Um.......I''ll ask Bjorn about that, and get back to you.”
The young dwarf smiled.
Meanwhile the rest of the dwarves had broken from their respective groups, and were having several heated discussions. Words along the lines of ''Idiot'' and ''I told you so, SmallAxe'' were bantered around liberally. After a while, Max yelled for Brandywine to bring out a keg, and an impromptu discussion of gods started (also known as a normal drinking session).
- - -
54<sup>th</sup> of Samue,
The weather has warmed up considerably, and the roads are finally dry again. Hangovers are unpleasant. Someone needs to make an alchemist''s cure. We arrive at Newleigh. I don''t like it. Something feels off.
*-*-*
Demon Lands
“My lord?” Vtev stood before the throne, shaking slightly, “Our spies have reported in, and there may be a problem.”
The demon lord looked down from the throne, placing his favorite book on his lap, “What sort of problem?”
“Sire, he''s back.”
“Who is back?”
Vtev finally gave in to the shakes, “The Heretic.”