Monster Party Book Seven: There's some things you're never gonna help or change, but hunger is something we can turn around!
Chapter Three: Our captain's tastes were simple but his methods were complex
"BONG!"
"BONG!"
"BONG!" The incessant ringing of bells filled the city of G'henna in the early hours of the morning.
If it accomplished nothing else, it did a splendid job driving Alexander Diamondclaw from his room and out into the guesting house's lobby with his hands clamped firmly over his ears. Alexander's silver hair was askew, his black outfit extremely ruffled, and his feet bare.
"ARE WE BEING INVADED?" He half shouted to Leon who was sitting behind the same desk that he'd been at when Alexander first entered yesterday.
"No, the bells are merely announcing that the time has come for Zhakata's Taking. I have sent my son to handle my contribution." He explained.
"What is the lad's name?" Alexander asked, trying to strike up something approaching a normal conversation, and not shout Leon's ears off.
"He's got another two months to go before he's old enough to name. He is a fine lad though, strong in both his limbs and faith, I'm certain that he'll live to see six years of age!" Leon boasted proudly.
Alexander winked repeatedly (it was hard to blink when you wore an eye-patch) and struggled to change the topic of conversation.
"Do you happen to have some wads of cotton, wool, or anything else I could stuff my ears with?" He begged.
"I am afraid not, but as today is a day of Zhakata's Dole, it is also a market day. I'm sure you can find what you seek there..." Leon suggested.
"Well I've heard worse ideas. Thank you for the information Leon, I'm going to go get my mate and then we'll go see what the market is like..." Alexander decided.
XXX XXX XXX
"Nope!" Alexander Diamondclaw decided after taking one step outside the guesting house.
As bad as the tolling of the bells was inside the building, it was infinitely worse out in the open air.
"Alex you've faced down..." Florence began.
The green clad woman was given no chance to finish her comments however as the bells were momentarily drowned out by the thundering sound of Alexander's boots pounding their way up the stairs back to his room.
XXX XXX XXX
The bells rang for a full hour, and only once they finally abated was Alexander willing to leave his room.
The group had previously passed through the (closed at the time) market yesterday so Alexander and Florence had no trouble finding it again that day.
When the market was in operation it was easily the most lively part of Zhukar. Though its many merchants still wore mostly drab clothing, their stalls were often festooned with bright strips of cloth to draw the eyes of perspective clients.
The merchants themselves also often looked simply thin rather than actively starving, and so were less likely to invoke an awkward mix of pity and revulsion.
The market was for the most part similar to many other ones that Alexander had visited, except for a few key differences; there was no food to be found anywhere at any price (though strangely there were still spices) and there were countless small icons carved of various materials for sale.
The statues were by no means all exactly alike but they were too similar not to have started with the same image in mind. To some degree or another they all depicted a powerful bipedal bestial figure with conspicuous claws and teeth, often with a pile of skulls or bones piled around its feet.
Such was the shape of Zhakata the Devourer who every resident of Zhukar seemed to hold in equal parts fear and reference. Theological nick nacks were hardly at the forefront of Alexander's mind, he had a much more important matter to resolve first….
XXX XXX XXX
"I'm sorry sir we are fresh out of wine."
XXX XXX XXX
"I sold my last bottle a week ago."
XXX XXX XXX
"I tithed half what I made to the temple to slake Zhakata's boundless thirst and the other half has already been purchased."
XXX XXX XXX
"Perhaps if you had arrived a month or so back just as spring was coming to an end and the harvest was just being completed…."
XXX XXX XXX
"Alas my stores are empty of such goods..."
XXX XXX XX
"I have none for sale but could I perhaps interest you in a…."
XXX XXX XXX
"That is a most splendid drinking glass you are considering good sir." The black haired merchant reflected as Alexander examined his wears.
"Yes, I can just imagine how splendid it would be… if I had something to fill it with!" Alexander half snarled the second half of the sentence, and needed to make a deliberate effort not to crack or crush the cup he held.
It had been crafted of the same bright ivory which was so much in evidence about Zhukar despite an obvious lack of elephants.
"Please excuse my outburst, it is an excellent piece of work." Alexander amended after having a moment to calm himself.
"My father would be most pleased to hear you say that." The merchant reflected with a slight lowering of the head and forward lean that could best be compared to one fourth of a bow.
"Is he the one who made it?" Alexander inquired, trying once again to make polite conversation on the miniscule chance the merchant might be able to get his hands some of G'Henna's scant liquor supply at a later date.
"It was made from his skull." The merchant explained.
"Excuse me." Alexander mumbled as she slowly and gently put the glass back down on the wooden booth.
Then with his now free hand, he reached into a pocket of his outfit and pulled out a small empty metal canteen.
"Could you repeat that? I think I must have misheard you..." The silver haired man insisted politely.
"The cup you were showing such interest in.. it was made from my recently departed father's skull." The merchant dutifully repeated.
Alexander's fingers tensed. There was a slight squeaking keening sound from within his closed fist.
"This is clearly some quaint G'Hennan tradition that I terribly am unfamiliar with." Alexander inquired in the tone of voice of one who knows he will not enjoy what came next.
"Much of the finest ornamentation of G'Henna is made from human bone." The merchant insisted while spreading his arms wide as if to try and take in all of Zhukar.
Alexander's left eye flickered. None of the "ivory" he had seen inside the city's walls had been ivory. It had been bone, human bone.
"How did he die?" Alexander asked in a voice that was ominously calm.
He looked at the merchant again closely. The general lack of food and aura of decay about Zhukar seemed to add a decade or more to most of its occupants faces, but the man still didn't look quite that old…
"He is among the thrice blessed dead who has been called to Zhakata's side to feast for all eternity, for he died of starvation." The merchant answered.
Alexander looked at the merchant again. He was thin, but not that thin, and his booth seemed to be stocked with merchandise of reasonable quality being sold at respectable prices.
He simply could not craft the various pieces of contradictory data he was seeing into a question without directly insulting the merchant, so he only tilted his head to the side awkwardly, a look of considerable confusion upon his face.
"He chose to prove his love and devotion to Zhakata by engaging in a month long fast during the season of Zhakata's Banquet." The merchant further explained.
"I see." The silver haired man answered.
"Thank you for the charming conversation, you can consider this payment for it." Alexander declared passively, before dumping a crushed twisted lump of metal before the merchant.
Then he promptly headed for the first alley that he could lay eyes upon.
Along the way he walked past a woman in drab clothing, with a young boy and girl hanging close by. The woman looked even more starved than most occupants of Zhukar, as if she hadn't eaten in over a week..
In an "absentminded" motion Alexander shifted the contents of his pockets and ended up dropping a large red berry on the ground before the woman.
Both of the children went for the berry, but at the sight of the ripe fruit the woman acted first and snatched it up into the air.
Then with a fanatical look in her blue eyes, she squeezed.
Red liquid dripped down form her hands and dyed the cobblestones before her crimson.
"Children… do not fear for me… I need no food of the body… for Zhakata shall grant me nourishment of the soul!" The woman croaked out.
Alexander was grateful to discover that the alley he'd selected came to a dead end, it allowed him to beat his head against it for ten or so seconds straight, before simply leaning his head against it in bitter resignation. From his throat came something halfway between dry heaving and a feral scream of rage.
"Still happy to be in G'Henna Alex?" Florence asked, having followed her companion.
Alexander Diamondclaw produced a few more inarticulate sounds before finally managing to speak actual words from between teeth gritted so firmly as to be painful.
"Remind me again, why is killing EVERYONE I hate not a valid moral code Florence? The sooner you do it the better..." He snarled.
Florence Bastien took Alexander's long silver hair in her hands and began to stroke it like the mane of a frightened horse.
"Your thirst can only be slaked by the blood of your foes. No sound can grant you greater joy than the crunch of their bones as you tread upon them. You are a hunter with no equal." Florence cooed softly.
"That's not the sage wisdom I asked for. Do you really want me to have an eye-patch emergency?" Alexander gasped in amazement.
"If you want me to remind you of the fact that you're not a bloodthirsty monster so badly, you don't really need me to do it." She answered serenely.
"This… this is why I HATE gods!" Alexander barely had the presence of mind to keep the words quite enough that only he and Florence heard.
If he'd bellowed them at the top of his lungs (like he wanted to) half of Zhukar would had heard, and probably a fourth of it would have formed up into an angry mob.
"You tried..." Florence insisted softly, as her stomach also had been turned by the sight of a starving woman not only rejecting but actively destroying the food that might have saved her life.
"A person who is filled with faith in the gods is empty of everything else! They have no brains with which to think, they have no will of their own with which to act! The gods see us as nothing but puppets to dance for their amusement, and yet some people willingly tie strings tight around their wrists!" Alexander moaned in anger and anguish.
"There's always James." Florence offered by way of a counter point.
"James is James. At least he made the 'wise' decision to fill his head with stories of knights and damsels before pouring in Bastet to take up whatever room was left over. These people though, the people of G'Henna are so hollowed out by their zeal for Zhakata that they can't hear the sound of their stomachs growling over their exuberant prayers.
I don't always agree with Devi, but food has to come first before any of the fripperies of faith. I would have though that would be obvious to everyone, but people are always finding new ways to enrage me with their idiocy." The silver haired man sighed.
"Do you blame all the people of G'Henna for that though?" Florence pressed.
"No, I'm going to start with this Yagno Petrovna who is High Priest and thus the seed from which this abdominal faith sprouted. I could be wrong of course… but for the moment I see little reason to doubt Marda's intuition. Yagno Petrovna is the darklord of G'Henna, and before this is through, I will break his soul for what he has done to these people." Alexander vowed.
"Good boy, that's what I like to see." Florence congratulated Alexander for focusing his anger in a constructive (well in an appropriately destructive) direction.
"The sad thing… the sad thing is that I don't think it will make a difference in the long run. Yes I can kill Yagno Petrovna. I can leave him calling out in pathetic whimper to a god who will do nothing to help him, and yet even if I do it before a huge crowd, it still won't do anything to make these people stop believing in Zhakata.
There's no point in arguing with zealots... They've hollowed themselves out to the point that the only reason they'd stop believing in Zhakata is to put their faith in some other god instead." Alexander scoffed bitterly.
"Lets get out of here and go pay a visit to the High Temple of Zhakata. I've heard that Yagno Petrovna is going to be giving some kind of sermon there today." Florence offered.
"Why would I possibly want to do hear anything he has to say?" Alexander spat.
"If you wish to defeat your enemies, you have to know them first. Not only that, but can you properly fantasize about killing him without being familiar with his face!" Florence offered.
"You make a persuasive argument." Alexander admitted.
XXX XXX XXX
Getting to the High Temple was not exactly easy; even leaving aside the crowd of genuine Zhakata worshipers who Alexander needed to muscles his way through, a group of soldiers gave everyone who wished to pass through the gates onto temple property a close inspection.
Both Alexander and Florence alike were patted down to make sure that they carried no hidden weapons, and Alexander was even forced to temporarily surrender the already peace-bonded Wolf Claw. The guard who took it form him was kind enough to wrap a piece of paper with the number "42" around the weapon's hilt and give another such piece to Alexander so that he could reclaim his sword when he returned to city proper.
Once they had made it through the inspection everyone was herded by still more guards toward the High Altar of Zhakata where Yagno Petrovna would be speaking. They were not allowed to enter the temple itself, which was designed as a flat topped pyramid of sorts.
Thanks to the enthusiastic crowd that had gathered for the event Alexander didn't even get within a hundred paces of Zhakata's High Priest, but it was still close enough for his keen eye to take the priest's measure.
Yagno Petrovna was an old man, he was pale, tall, gaunt, (but probably more by nature than starvation) and that was really all that could be said about him. His features were so nondescript that they seemed to be sketched onto his face.
His eyes were droopy and bloodshot as if he hadn't gotten a proper night sleep in quite a while. He was dressed in a hooded crimson priest robe (with the hood pulled back) along with a cap topped by a stiffly folded crest. Across his chest was draped a beaded cord, and now that he knew what to expect Alexander realized that the smallest "beads" were actually human teeth.
Yagno was not alone atop the temple though he was 'joined' by a young man with russet hair and brown eyes dressed in torn red robes who was chained heavily to the altar.
Yagno had already begun his preaching by the time Alexander got within ear shot, but the silver haired man didn't seem to have missed anything important, as Yagno was simply restating again and again how great and powerful Zhakata was. The words sounded harsh and grating upon his ears, but the people of Zhukar seemed to be quite entranced by Yagno's sermon.
"Was it not Zhakata the Devourer who saved me from the forest beasts when I was nothing more than a helpless stripling? He showed his power then, just as he will show his power today before you all!" Insisted Yagno before turning to the chained man.
"Petchko, son of Callian the Vistani, you have been accused by your fellow priests and found guilty of preaching the heresy of Zhakata the Provider!" Yagno bellowed out to all assembled before him.
Petchko strained feebly against the chains that bound him, and spoke in a voice that was high pitched and frightened.
"It is not true High Priest Petrovna! The Beast God has but one face, Zhakata the Devourer! Such I have always been taught, and such I have always believed!" He insisted pathetically.
"Do not waste your words upon my ears Petchko, I am only fulfilling the punishment that your fellow priests have judged to be just. You were not of Zhukar, and yet the city took you in. You were not born to the faith of Zhakata and yet the faith spread its arms wide and accepted you.
By engaging in heresy you have spat in the face of all those who showed you kindness. Yet so great is the might of Zhakata, that you will be shown one final mercy. I will not take your life from you this day.
From your respected lips have come words utterly devoid of truth that would lead the faithful astray. You have behaved in a manner more despicable than any animal, and so your body shall be remade to match your twisted spirit!" Yagno promised.
Then he raked his fingers across Petchko's forehead and chest. As he did so he tore something away from the young man.
It was hard to tell what exactly, but it was if he suddenly held a ghostly image of Petchko in his hands even as the real one was still chained to the Altar of Zhakata.
Yagno exhaled heavily upon the incorporeal copy, and as if it had been struck by a mighty gust it was instantly scattered to the four winds.
The moment it vanished Petchko began to transform. The transformation was not a pretty sight to behold, bones twisted and cracked, as skin became something else entirely.
It as impossible to say or guess what exactly Petchko was turning into as it seemed to incorporate aspects from many different animals. His eyes became ringed by green scales, his hands became twisted yet bird like talons though blunt and lacking points.
His face was vaguely human in its proportions but also quite lapine in ways, between the buck teeth and one ear that was much larger than the other. Who could say for certain what additional deformities might now also lurk beneath the red robe which hid much of Petchko's body from sight?
"Go now from my sight you animal! Go now from my sight and do not return until you have reclaimed the grace of Zhakata you have so foolishly cast aside!" Proclaimed Yagno as the chains that held Petchko abruptly broke leaving him "free" before the crowd.
Petchko slowly rose to his feet and instantly the crowd began to hurl mocking derision in his direction.
"ANIMAL!"
"MONGREL!"
"FILTH!"
"HERETIC!"
Alexander was utterly certain that in any other domain he had visited (with the possible exception of Vorostokov) such jeers would have soon enough been accompanied by hurling tomatoes and eggs (or their local equivalent) at the figure being mocked. Such was not the case in G'Henna, food was far too dear a commodity to waste it in such a way.
The chants and mockery continued, but the crowd did part itself before Petchko allowing him to run away from the temple, though he was buffeted by blows and kicks from anyone he came near.
The silver haired man watched the entire precession in cold stony silence. Then he said seven terse words.
"I need to buy a brown robe." Alexander Diamondclaw insisted as he turned his back on Yagno Petrovna.
End Chapter.
AN: Darklords are raised by the dark powers and frequently given control of the nations that they inhabit. They are given incredible power often of either political or arcane (or both) nature beyond that of ordinary people. Under their control people suffer. But no matter what, Darklords never get what they truly want. Darklords never win. Any "victory" they get brings them no joy. Darklords will inevitably suffer more horribly than any of their subjects.
Heroes in Ravenloft frequently suffer just as much as Darklords do, but they refuse to give into despair, hatred, or fear. They suffer, but they are made stronger by their suffering, they refuse to give into hate, anger, fear, or other negative emotions. Heroes do what they can to help eliminate the suffering of others...
Oh wait that particular thought has nothing at all to do with the story, no idea why I included it…
Anyway, some of you may notice that Alex never seemed quite so aggressively anti-god before this story.
There have been touches of it before this, his comments to Gwydion in the last book, back in the first book he mentioned how the Order of the Guardians were one of the few religious organizations he actually liked.
But you aren't incorrect that Alex is rather of two minds on the subject of gods and faith. With people like Wyan he isn't going to raise a fuss, and kick down doors, because Wyan you can completely strip out all the religious aspects of the people of Tepest, and the fact remains "evil creatures from the woods are tormenting us" and some form of a reaction is necessary.
If we ever saw Alex is Nidala however, oh but he would have some choice words for Elena and her followers before all was said and done.
Just to clear things up, in general Alex doesn't have a problem with Mirri who vaguely believes in Kali simply because you never know when believing in a god will wind up giving you magical superpowers. She doesn't do anything because of Kali that she wouldn't be doing otherwise. He's less fond of James sincere faith in Bastet… but he considers spending time with James yet another "hair shirt" for him to wear for his past mistakes/sins.
If you're wondering why he didn't say anything about this back in Book 4 when James believed he was possessed by a quasi-godlike being, well see his comment about "no point in arguing with zealots" and him not wanting to waste time.
Hopefully this all gels together fairly well since this is an aspect of Alex I've been intending from the start.
