GOD GAMES

“The designs are functional,” Emma’s father exclaims. His hand grips the sides of the paper so as not to crinkle his daughter's carefully crafted blueprints. “They could even fit some wolven hands.” He continues staring at it. “The slits at the tips are a nice addition.”

“I figured he might want to be able to extend his claws in a fight.”

Her father looks at the blueprints several more times and checks the numbers. Then he blinks once.

“Have you chosen your metal?”

She quickly nods. She grabs a metal bar and hands it to her father.

“Titanium? This is not a simple metal to work with and does not hold enchantments well.”

Emma sighs inside. Titanium is expensive and she was worried her father would be against it.

“I know, but mixing a secondary core will make the process easier. Speaking of which, how did you get a green core? Are you sure I should be using it? It can sell for a lot.”

“It was payment for services rendered three years ago. I kept it instead of selling it for this very reason. As for core mixing, not all metal will be greatly improved when a core is added. I recommend creating an alloy with seven percent mithril and two percent gold.”

Emma frowns. “That would weaken the metal and make the gauntlets heavier.”

“Slightly heavier and weaker. But, the mithril mixes well with core powder in the presence of gold as a catalyst.”

Emma looks at the bar of titanium for a long moment. “Does this mean I can tap into our mithril and gold reserves?”

“You can tap into our diamond reserves so long as you level.”

She chuckles and looks away from her fathers proud and caring gaze. Even if she were to fail, he would still be happy with the attempt.

“Then it’s decided. I’ll make the alloy as you advise. For the core, do you have any advice or do I powder it as much as possible?”

“A freshly ground core is more potent than one sitting in a vial for days. Grind it as fast and as much as possible and then mix it into the metal.”

“All of it?”

“Yes.”

She takes a glance at the runed clock on the wall. An expensive item, but a required one for when working with runes. The clock says its already night.

“Then I best go to sleep and start smithing in the morning.” She gets up and pauses.

“Have you seen Quasi? I don't remember seeing him leave.”

“He mentioned something about spilled milk and vengeance.”

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In a building in the lower areas of Breston, a meeting is taking place. The meeting is of three individuals. Three of the most influential breakers within the organization. They sit within the topmost room lit by firelight. They eye each other, wary of the shifts in leadership and the strain of their organization. They used to be five, but now are down to three.

“Are you sure Calvaran wasn’t killed by the [Lord]? I mean, the rumors of a talking cat ending him seem asinine,” one of the Breakers points out. The Breaker is skinny, tall, and carries a pair of cutlasses at his hip as though he’s a [Duelist].

“He’s right, Biron. These rumors are probably a coverup for the [Lord] to get rid of Calvaran,” another Breaker says. Unlike the first, this breaker has a staff resting at his side that depicts him as a probably [mage].

“I’m just telling you what I heard from the [Guard],” Biron counters. “One of them would squeal the truth, but all are mentioning a talking cat.”

“Do you mean one of the Wolven? I wouldn’t call them cats- more like dogs or wolves,” the [Mage] adds.

The [Duelist] sighs. “It doesn’t matter who or fucking what killed Calvaran. The Buxon’s dead and we’re losing members by the dozens.”

“We can disband the breakers and join one of the other gangs,” the [Mage] says.

“Those other gangs are shit. They’ve no organization or numbers. I say we plug the bleeding hole, downsize a little, and then slowly expand. We still got the numbers, levels, and equipment to keep the other gangs from approaching our territory,” Biron explains.

“You’ve thought this through pretty well.” The [Duelist] comments.

Biron leans back into his chair. “I may not have as many levels as you.” He points at the [Duelist]. “Or the ability to use magic.” He points at the [Mage]. “But I’ve got experience leading gangs. I know how they work, how they think, what to do and what not to do.” He grins at the two with a confidence born from experience. That confidence is quickly met with frustration as the door to their meeting creaks open. He turns and glares towards the sound.

“I told you fucks to stay out! We’re having a mee-” Birons tirade stops as all eyes are on a fluffy kitten standing at the entrance. The cat looks at the three. Then it walks towards them and hops up on the table.

“Biron, in regards to the What not to do, I found you’ve made a very grave decision.” The cat explains cooly. It gazes at the three as it continues. “That decision involves a certain tavern wherein a certain cat was consuming a certain substance that I like to call liquid ambrosia. It's a nice, creamy thick liquid brimming with sugar and fat. Truly amazing.”

The cat stretches while the audience is still flabbergasted.

“But, during my foray into the creamy goodness, a certain man by the name of Biron barges into the tavern, walks up to my table, and then does the unthinkable.”

The cat grins, showing its teeth. “He spilled my drink. Right in front of both me and my servants. He just goes and spills it.”

The cat's fur seems to puff out as it zeroes in on Biron. “MY MILK WAS SPILLED!” the cat yells.

Then the cat quickly calms. “As you may understand, I take such an insult as an act of war. And a war- for those of you who have been in one, is something that ends when one side accepts the other's surrender.”

The cat leans back to sit down with a smile on its face. “I’ve yet to even deign the idea of such a thing. After all, milk was spilt in such an audacious way that there can be no other option but slaughter.” The cat raises and points a paw at the silent three. “So, you leaders of this rapidly deteriorating organization will ne-”

“Quasi!” A yell interrupts the cat. The cat turns towards the entrance as two men reach the doorway.

“What? I’m busy doing my spiel,” The cat exclaims.

The two men stare through the doorway to see Quasi on a table and three very confused men. One of which is Biron.

“Oh, uh. We’re done looting all the bodies.”

The cat raises an eyebrow. “Already? Damn you guys are fast. Um, alright, well, do another search of the building and grab whatever you think will sell for a lot. Also, close the door.”

The two nod and close the door shut, leaving the room rather silent except for the crackling fire from the chandelier and the now nervous expression of those present.

“Now, where was I? Ahh, yes. So, your organization is deteriorating very quickly. Fast enough that it will cease to exist unless changes are implemented. Changes that you three are perfectly in position to implement. Unfortunately we are at war and I refuse to even consider the idea of accepting your surrender. Still, as a magnanimous individual of my species, I will allow you three to rectify the situation yourselves instead of me doing it for you.”

The three share a look with one another. A look of fear, for the rumors are most probably true. If this cat killed Calvaran, who can single handedly kill all three of them with ease- then they have no hope of surviving.

“So, you want us to disband the breakers?” Biron asks.

The cat chuckles. “Heavens no. Absolutely not. Disbanding the breakers are the terms of surrender- which I don’t accept.”

“No,” the cat growls hungrily. “I’m offering you three the option to end your own pathetic lives.”

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“[Lord] Richard!” Devold barges into Richard's private office. “Theres been a prob-.” Devold immediately stops at the sight of the [Lord] of Breston sleeping on his desk.

“My [Lord]?” he asks warily, but the man is asleep.

Hesitantly, he walks to the desk. Just as he’s about to put his hand on the man to wake him up, Richard's body is a blur. Within the blink of an eye, Richard’s cutlass is unsheathed and pointing at Devold’s neck.

Devold freezes in fear from the cold metal.

Richard blinks rapidly. A piece of paper covered in drool drops from the side of his cheek.

Eventually, the [Lord's] mind catches up to his reaction.

“I wasn’t sleeping.” He says forcefully. “I was just resting my head.”

Devold swallows and gives a small nod.

Richard removes the cutlass from Devolds neck and sheathes back into his scabbard.

“Now, what are you doing here?” Richard asks cooly.

Devold relaxes. “You know how you asked me to keep an eye on the breakers. In case they do something dangerous or stupid? Well, it seems that their remaining leadership was killed somewhere in the lower district. With them dead, the breakers are completely dissolved.”

Richard grins. “So, a rival gang got to them? Good, they’ve been a thorn in my side for far too long.”

Devold grimaces. “That’s the thing. The building they were headquartered at was slaughtered not by blade, but by some monster. The bodies are mangled or ripped apart by what seems like teeth and claws. The worst of it were the leaders. They looked to have been slowly ripped apart with their blood splattered throughout the room.”

Richards' grin quickly subsides into a grimace. “You said there were bite marks?”

The [Spy] nods.

“Calvaran’s throat was ripped out by something with teeth. Also, the place of his death had several claw grooves in the wood.”

“You think it was the cat?”

Richards nods slowly. “It’s the most reasonable conclusion.”

“And the motive?” Devold asks.

Richard shrugs. “Honestly, I'm not sure. The breakers leader was killed by him, so it would be reasonable they might want vengeance… or it could be revenge. Quasi’s crew was attacked by the breakers, so maybe he wants to finish the job.”

“Should we do something about it?”

The [Lord] waves his hand. “Nah, just ignore it. Report it as gang violence or something. So long as the killings don't continue, it should be fine.”

Devold raises an eyebrow. “For someone who follows the law, you’re being pretty lax.”

The [Lord] grins. “If you can find me proof that a kitten killed an entire gang. I’ll be more than happy to follow the law and arrest them. But, I’m guessing there is no proof and the killings were done in the dead of night. Correct?”

Devold nods slowly.

“Then there's nothing the law can do. Is there anything else you’ve to report?”

“I’ve a report my [Lord].” [Head Guard] Merican strides into the office. She stops and hands the [Lord] a paper. “Mistress Janice wishes you to read that. She is most displeased.”

Richard leans into his chair and quickly skims the paper. “This is the price evaluation for Seden’s Orbit… why is it so low?”

“Mistress Janice says that the ship was stripped bare of everything. All the cannons, the ballistae, the furniture, crystal from the internal runes, and even much of the ship's reinforced armor.”

“Fuck,” Richard curses. He rubs his temple. “Fuck me.”

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