I'm a what now?

Cercyon

The Gods Must Be Crazy

So to catch up with Wifilisburg‎, several days ago and about 11 centuries in the future, there was a bit of a ruckus, and after a lot of back and forthing to multiple nexus-points in time, we determined that the best way to seal this temporal rift was to seal it at the beginning, which was 9 AD. We managed that after a few attempts and stuck in the year 9. Things were good, world keeps spinning, and we'll eventually get back to the thing.

Ah, oops?

The next morning, I was a happy whistling kind of guy and enjoying the morning sunrise. And then I realized I was enjoying the morning sunrise. That was bad, because, well, vampires have exceptional allergies to the sun. But I didn't. I was watching the sun rise and liking it. In a toga. Which was odd, because I hadn't worn one of those for awhile. It was a theme party, okay?

But initial shocks and confusion done with, I followed my nose (literally) to the main camp Where I found myself at the forge. This is not my thing. Except that it is. I was watching the smith at work and immediately clicking in on what he was doing and what he wasn't. We spoke about it and I started having flashbacks to doing support work with intelligent consultants; discussing things in what was almost our own language. I think he was exhausted or he was being asked to do the impossible, so he invited me to give it a go. And then I amazed everyone by just grabbing the blazing hot ingot and going to work.

The iron was crap, the tools were iffy, and I'm not sure how I knew that, but at the same time, the chieftain wanted a sword that was built for slashing. I knew I could rework it with enough heat to get something that would hold up. Hours later, I had a crowd and a sword that was definitely going to be to the chieftains' liking - as well as a semi-melted anvil. Might need to dial down the thermostat next time. I toweled off sort of, but that wasn't much to worry about - the thing that was that I had in fact crafted a masterpiece. Not bad for my first time. We took it to the chieftain who roared his approval and everyone was in their happy place. The drinks flowed, the food was good, and even though I was a Roman, skill seemed to override birthplace. I was compared favorably to the dwarves of old, and the sword was given a proper name.

Somewhere along the the line, when I was still marginally sober, the chieftain called me to him and had his four daughters lined up. Apparently I was picking up a wife somewhere. Good smiths may be hard to find, and I was getting picked up before someone else could find out what we got. Not gonna lie, it was a great time. I selected the second daughter of the four because well...being the middle child is heck.

and the next morning, bright and early and things had to get fixed. Me and the other smith and the apprentices got working on rebuilding the forge; a little rebuild on the smelter to make it more efficient, and then we cast the ores to ingots so that we knew what we had on hand and not just guessing. After all that, tools were needed. I killed the anvil and dented that hammer to hell, so I remade them in, well, it's not iron, but it's a fairly crude steel. But it'll do. And it was apparently miraculous, because the smith laid his hands on it and scorched the shit out of his hands - however he was taking them as holy marks.

Sweet baby Jesus. Or...something. It felt good. As I'm going through this, it feels like I'm a god. A young god, but a god nonetheless. And honestly, is this...art, or craft, or...what the heck. I should be cautious with this. But first, I have food, and a wife to take care of.

Next morning was time to go to work. I had myself a nice time and started doling out assignments and also working the crowd a bit, teaching them what was to me common sense. The crowd parted and I found Bolverk - or Thorimir now. Being a forge god seemed to suit the times, and while he wasn't totally thrown, it wasn't precisely my thing. Except that it is now. After a little thought, he threw out the idea that we should go get some meteroic iron from a place a couple days ride from here. Guarded by a Lindworm, which did nothing for me. But, we could get some damn good iron, and I could make him a warhammer. Oh yeah. That sounded like actual fun, so I made sure everything was going good and knocked off earlyish so I could tell Missus Cercyon and my father-in-law that I was going on a road trip. I was promptly given two bodyguards, because he did not want his smith getting killed. Meanwhile, all the other women were clustered around my wife and having girl talk. From her expressions and the way the other women were sneaking glances back at me, I had done something good. Quite possibly more than once.

Dawn rose, and with it, I felt alive-er. The first fires of the dawn, or something. While we were riding, I started talking with Thorimir about this warhammer. Big is the general word, but at the same time it's going to make a statement. It's going to be a full days' work, and probably a good fourth of the time is going to be spent on the tweaking of it. That said, when a god makes a weapon for another god, that shit will be done to specifications.

We encountered bandits of a sort the first night out, no really big thing except for the part where I was throwing javelins of fire at a few people with astounding effect. That's...impressive. Note to self, see if I can do a weapon. That said, one of my guardsmen took an arrow to the kidney, which was not good. On the up side, Lady Mortis (Just Mors now,) fixed him up nicely - however in exchange I had to make her a bow. That I can do.

The morning was interesting, to say the least. We found the crater, reminded each other about the Lindworms' abilities, don't look it in the eye, and made our way cautiously down the crater. Oh. Oh happy day. We loaded up the horses because I'll walk if it mean I can have a few more pounds of this ore. Dense, workable, this is a dream ore for this era. And we hadn't woken the Lindworm. Everything's coming up Millhouse.

Until it opened its' eye and froze me. Gods dammit (Me dammit?) And then bad things happened. I got bit and ragdolled, but fortunately the only thing that got wrecked was my clothes. Someday I'm going to come back from something wearing what I brought with me, but it is not this day. The thing was flipping huge, and fire wasn't helping for shit. I was however able to blind one eye with a nice arrow shot along with Mors, Thorimir was on its' head trying to either stab its' head or tame it for a suitable mount. In any case, it reeked with its' breath and one of the men charged it and actually eviscerated it as it ran over the guys' sword.

He's getting a raise.

And with that, we did some butchers' work, getting the hide and some bones and other things that were going to be needed for this bow and warhammer combo. And I am definitely making a hammer for myself out of this. But the clocks' ticking and we need to send a party back with a wagon for the rest of this.

So the todo list is now a bigass warhammer for Thorimir, a bow for Lady Mors, jewelry for the wife, a hammer for me, and then I'll take a nap. After that, there'll be a battle to win.

Plans are what you make

...life happened. Once we got back, I spent a little time supervising the ore offload, and then went to spend some time with the wife. Surprise one, she's like...6 months pregnant. This was surprising because I don't remember her being pregnant 3 days ago, much less that far along. However, she was rather enthused about my return, and well...she wasn't getting any more pregnant, so there was a little honeymoon activity, after which we went to take a bath in the river. Which was awkward-ish, because there were other women both up and down river doing their washup and I was being eyed. I think I tick the boxes for foreign and handsome, and there could possibly be jealousy? Or it could also be that my bride of 3 days is way way pregnant. I'm going with the latter. The things that I think of while giving the pregnant wife a backrub.

So we were relaxing, and then some old geezer tried to geeze his way across the river. Okay, I'll be honest I shouldn't call him old, given I'm, well, I'd have to sit down and do the math. Centuries. We're going with centuries. Guy fell in the river and was in the shit, so I dove in. Who wouldn't? Okay I shouldn't think about that - I'm running into the weeds and there's a guy drowning over thataway. I jumped in and swam, grabbed the old guy and went with the current and got back to the shore.

Apparently that was surprising. Unfortunately the poor guy lost his sandal, so I gave him mine for the walk to the main camp. I'm not sure if he made it okay as the first convenient shrub was declared an impromptu make-out location by the wife. That was...exhilarating. And surprising. And overall kinda neat. But eventually I made my way to the forge to supervise more and get to work with the projects. And that was interrupted; apparently someone had some prophecy to spit at me, Mors, and Thorimir. Mors was busy. Stunningly busy. Seriously, there is something about this place that is permanent spring - if you listen really closely you can hear Barry White.

Sadly, Mors was not coming out so I shouted encouragement to her partner-priest-whatever the heck he is. The worst part about was when she came out with the "I will remember this" look. Yep. I'mma pay for that later. Prophecy delivered, in short - Morpheus is in trouble and got sold; the guy who sold him took his forces and bailed right the hell out. Personally I thought Thorimir had right of first refusal on that sort of thing. But...that's where the fun began. We found out who and went a-walking with our fighting stuff; it's kind of a tradition at this point. The annoying thing was that the clock was ticking and I had several things to make before the fight.

Running through everything was rough, since I only had a few shots in the barrel. But dang, what a shot. Fireballs, minotaurs, and...I'm finding myself to be good with this - something to noodle through later. The harshest part was when I found myself totally lost, having made a defensive fire-circle while Thorimir and Mors took a nap. I'm not normally on good terms with the gods, but I was praying to Hephaestus. And holy shit he answered. But there was a fast conversation because we had; I think it's a thing - smiths kinda keep it simple and honest. Also, can I still be weirded out that I think of myself as a smith? Of all the things in my existence, this could be the new one.

Anyway, Big H gave me a little help for finding Morpheus, but we had to go to Olympus later. Like...well, this year. Anyway, it made tracking easier, we found him. He was not pleased about having to go to Olympus. Seriously. Anyway, at that point his captor shut down his realm and we are in fact up a creek. Did I mention the minotaurs? Cause they're here. And grumpy.

And that was where the fun really began.

Fortis Fortuna Adiuvat

I'm still getting used to some of these things I can do. And the fact that I'm still kinda getting used to it can make things awkward. I am way more martial than I was, as demonstrated by kicking ass on two or three...things in short order. Having a flaming sword doesn't hurt. The problem was when I got schnookered by a lullaby, and fell over. An interesting memory-dream later, I felt off. Like...making Titan killing weapons could be a thing I do now, or later, but at the same time if it's prophetic, I have some time to make some things. and possibly keep other demigods alive and extant. Meanwhile, me and Crom had a discussion, and we talked numbers. I help him, he helps me, and a little sip of blood sealed the deal. This...could be bad. But life entails risk. And I might be able to spin it properly to a good thing if anyone asks; I'm not volunteering the information.

Anyway, after that I got dirty. Making weapons - technically I made 2 bows for mors but the first one was so shit I redid it - Thorimirs' hammer came out nice on the first go, and the wifes' torc gave her a thrill. Finally, my own sword. I mean I do have one, but I have two hands. Der. So finally, we got ourselves geared up, and there was fighting. Me and Thorimir kinda waded in and did damage - at least until Ares showed up.

Not gonna lie, Ares is kind of a badass. We were holding our own until he turned into 7 of them. At which point I had to drop everything into setting Ares on fire, which...it worked well enough for him to notice me. And when we woke up, we had to traipse through not-quite-the-underworld to get out. We owe Hades a solid. And then we came back, knocking dirt from our ears and then trying to sort out Morpheus' new friend. Short version, Japanese, kinda cute, and kinda freaked. I haven't really talked to her, but this oughta an interesting story.

Battles and Valkyries

The battle of Teutoburg Forest is legendary, but...the legends don't tell everything. There were several days of fighting. The historians get that right. What they miss is the German losses - purportedly, it was a perfect battle on the scale of Cannae. The stuff that gets missed is the part where the mages on both sides were working overtime to get things right, as well as the gods.

I'll hit the high points - massive armies of resurrected dead, a significant asskicking, and I met a Valkyrie. She didn't know I was on her side, so she speared and I parried, and then I pulled out old fighting techniques that haven't been invented yet to boot her in the head. Then the fight was called on account of a dead dragon breathing cold-fire at everything. I tackled the valkyrie and took the hit, which was not a problem since I discovered I was immune to the cold. For my trouble, she kneed me square in the meat-and-two-veg. I don't care who you are, that shit hurts. She did have the decency to apologize, and then we found a place for the night. In the morning, we went and surveyed the locations, and it got tricky quickly.

Apparently Morpheus' new girlfriend has a condition, kinda like a Nagaraja. But Morpheus took her to feed on the dead, and he brought some back. Which sorta shrank the battlefield, and then I went to work with Thorimir on making the dead extra dead with a side of fries.I set myself on fire a-la Johnny Blaze and well...my toga wasn't fireproofed. After that mess I got a loan of a cloak from the Valkyrie, which was nice. I like her and I don't at the same time. However, I'm bound to fight for the Germanic tribes, and there was more fighting to be done. It was long and hard slog which left me exhausted and burned out, however it was a good fight. The worst part was the gods couldn't stop fighting long enough to sort the undead. So...it was kind of a three-way fight for awhile.

At the end of it there was the mix of joy and sorrow. So many dead from both sides, and catching up with the smiths took time. I did have a nice long talk with everyone, and I discovered I had a son. I think I'll name him Atreus - it doesn't quite follow God of War, but it's close enough. Son of a Greek god and a Norse Giant? Well...maybe. I really don't know my wife all that well, so she could be a giant for all I know. And the child has divinity within him, so my next step is head to Olympus and find out what he may be the god of.

The Plan Went Smooth!

So the next week was a little hectic. Atreus didn't seem to be growing at a rapid pace once he decided to be born, but this was...really new. I mean, my life has run me through a few things and although I'm about 400-ish (I'll have to sit down and do the math, but that feels about right) in the Never Have I Ever game, changing my sons' diaper was among the things I had never. I'm seeing why I waited 4 centuries to experience it. Goda (the wife) however was thrilled with me. I'd survived the battle, wasn't really damaged, and was pitching in to help raise Atreus.

Domestically, life was good. I had to wrap up a few projects and then get a cart built so that we could travel to Olympus in at least a modicum of comfort. Repairing and teaching the smiths in the area also soaked up a bit of time, and the camp is in the party stage. And the party's not stopping at this point, because the injured are getting back on their feet and thinking it's Miller Time. I mean, they're not wrong. But life goes on, and I'm getting commissions almost as fast as I can work them.

Two of them were interesting - Morpheus' girlfriend wanted a katana/wakizashi pair-up. On the negative column of that, it'd be 5 days' work, solid. Even with some time management, it'd be a sink. The second negative here is it's about a thousand years before katanas exist, so...there'd be a few things before we got rolling. After some discussion, apparently the price was high, and we're going with a shortsword instead. Proto-katanas are acceptable. I got Morpheus and Miko to agree, we found out a little more about what and where. It was a rescue the princess gig, and where we were going was Mainz. Okay it wasn't Mainz, it was Mogontiacum‎, but still - same annoyances were present a thousand years before. Welll, shit.

After that, I had a few other things to do - I checked up on the old man I saved from the river, and he seemed to be doing well. While we were talking a runner came up with a message from Thorimir. Specifically, business to take care of and help was requested. I said hell yes, and promptly started making arrangements for travel. The old man, Cleon the Elder had a really nice ride - all it needed was a hot tub and a disco ball and we'd be in business. So I went to where thorimir was, making a few bets along the way and got some other things taken care of, found out arrangements had been made already, and had to go back to Cleon to tell him we'd decline for now, but we were going to definitely take a look at heading to Rome in yon carriage once we got back from Thorimirs' trip.

Goda did not take it well. She was a little unglued about possible heritage, me dying, what have you. Seriously - it's like we just met and she hasn't figured out that I am pretty tough to kill. And even if I do get killed (See also: Ares) I'm coming back. Where the heck was Mors when I needed a translator. Oi. I muddled through it, and went over to the chiefs' tent. He was not thrilled about this either. Apparently Thorimirs' reputation is that he's a leeeetle risky to be around. I mean I can't argue it, but if he's asking for help, it's because help is needed. It was a long conversation, and we had a few horns of mead. I think my father-in-laws' plan is basically to use me as a lever to be first among equals among the chieftains - it's not a bad plan, but at the same time, I got things to do. The mead hit harder than it should have. It was spiked, which I realized about 30 seconds after I'd downed it. I needed some air.

I left the tent to clear my head, and I had Goda coming after me with some seriousness. And she cracked me with the cast iron skillet I'd made - the world exploded like galaxy brain and really, we need to have a talk when I'm back about the house rules. But not right now.

I woke up in Mogontiacum‎ with the Platonic ideal of a hangover doing laps in my brainpan. And a knot the size of a goose egg on my forehead. On the up side, I had a nice robe, a clean place to be, and apparently Hermes was helping out. I went downstairs and got a nice drink of ambrosia, which helped my head tremendously. From there, we all sat around and settled our planning. The plan was sneak, get in, get out, head down to the Winchester, have a nice cold pint, and wait for all this to blow over.

That's slice of fried gold.

So after all that we went to where an inn would be in a millenium, and found out it was now a bath house. No problem. We got in and found out where the secret door was, and from there we collectively made some steam. Okay I leaned against the cherub and heated it to the point where it was just kicking out steam. As soon as that was done, we pulled the lever and got in. Moguns' place is still freaking creepy after all this time, but at the same time it was a good thing, since we knew what to expect. We went across Oh Shit Bridge to find cells. Said cells were occupied prisoners or sacrifices, back and forthed for a minute before popping the exit door, which went...well, up. The princess was not going to be found that way.

So we freed the prisoners, gave them a torch and pointed them to the exit, which they were all to happy to do. Except for the one lady who'd had a total psychotic break and couldn't do anything but scream. Eeeesh. I touched the stone and pretty much had a architectural map downloaded to my smartphone in a minute, which gave us a pretty good idea of where the princess was.

But the princess reformed on Oh Shit bridge and she was not wanting to leave. We got her out with a little help from Dr Morpheus' Sleeping Potion. Handy stuff. We took the exit that we had so thoughtfully opened and got the hell out of there.

Surprised? Me too. Shit went as smoothly as it could have without the princess running out of the bathhouse asking us to save her.

Back at hermes' place, we checked on the Princess, found out it would probably be best to keep her knocked the hell out until we could get back, and went to the Apothecary to talk about getting some medicinal poppy oil to keep her asleep. An extra crown went to making sure the apothecary totally forgot who bought it and we hauled ass, making it back just in tome for the sunset. There was a bit of irony in vampires fleeing the coming dusk, but it's a thing that I've come to expect, a little. Finally we made arrangements for a ride back. All in about 2 days.

Once back at the camp, I went back to the tent where apparently Goda was mourning my death a little early or something. Even though Thorimir kidnapped, it was totally my fault for being kidnapped after being knocked unconscious by my own frying pan. Oi. I expected the smooch, I expected the kiss, I did not expect the knee to the groin. Seriously, do the Northern tribes have classes in Knee-to-the-Manbag? The rest of the women filed out giving me the evilest of evil looks, and we eventually made up. It was epic, thank you.

And afterglow was interrupted by Hermes tapping on the tent - we were heading to Rome. I explained it while packing, but Goda was still very nervous about traveling on a bridge made of clouds. I did keep everyone close, and we stepped out in...well, I think it's Rome. Pretty sure it's Rome.

Roma Antiqua

Yep, we are definitely in Rome. So with that in mind, Goda's a bit overwhelmed. Which, I mean...maybe I have perspective, but 2 million people in one place is about 5% of the entirety of Europes' population. All crammed into a few square miles. At least the plumbing's good.

I looked around for familiar landmarks before having an epiphany, in that the things I was looking for hadn't been built yet. So that wasn't going to help me get around much. The press was getting to Goda quite a bit so I carried her on my shoulders as we went to Hermes' palace. He's got a few things I would like to know about. Plus he has some nice instruments. Like I was playing a zither-ish thing for Goda and Atreus, and doing a pretty decent job before we arrived in Rome, and then Hermes came in and utterly blew me out of the water. Even I was a little weepy at his song of a Greek tragedy.

But back to Rome. First things first, we went to the Temple of Vulcan (because Romans can't say Haephestus) and we went in. Well, everyone except Hermes and Miko. We walked around, and Goda decided to just take five. So I took Atreus with me, past the inner sanctum and in, passing the masters as they were getting ready to unveil a bronze statue of Emperor Octavian. There's some clever shit going on here. Good news, Atreus appears to be okay with the heat, and honestly the only reason I noticed is because everyone else sorta decided to take 5.

The best part of this whole thing was the mechanical guardians. It was interesting, it was like they knew who to let in and who not to. Me and Atreus got let in. Haephestus was, well he was honestly neutral. However, there are some gods who are reallllly not happy with me. Chief among them being Ares, probably Athena as well. That's not good for my longterm health. Hopefully I can bargain my way out of this. Hopefully. In regard to Atreus, his fate is not yet known, but he's definitely divine-ish. So, he's going to learn from papa. This is going to be fun.

Back at the statue, it was damned nice. But not perfect - I felt an air bubble that would cause the statue to break in a few centuries if left unchecked. My suspicions were confirmed by several of the younger masters which sparked a two-part debate, as far as who did it it turned out to be someone who hadn't sealed the bottom. Bronze got out, air got in, and we got a fucked statue. Morpheus had an idea, essentially repair the statue by drilling a hole to the bubble and filling it that way. Certainly an elegant solution, efficient and faster, but at the same time not acceptable - we had the time to do it right, so we were gonna do it right. Apprentices were roused, crews set, and the one responsible was promptly cast out. Dulius was very lost for about 10 minutes, before I picked him up and gave him the second chance. I explained the rules, and they're simple. He was overjoyed, and I was...well, energized, frankly. I was gonna need because I was supervising an allnighter.

Suffice to say it was a long night and I needed coffee. But Old Man Cleon came calling, with a loan of a house. I accepted, set Dulius to finding us permanentish lodgings (at least until fate takes us somewhere else) and made sure everyone got a nap in. Hermes and I had a quick talk ,I asked if he knew anything about us having trouble coming our way. He reconfirmed that there were peeved Olympians and that I should follow my instincts, trust no-one, and also beware of the Wolf and the Dove.

Duly noted. On the up side, my head smith and second smith seemed to be going through this fairly well, so I called for some papyrus and started designing some collapsible shields. Our most likely candidate is parasol design that when collapsed looks kinda like a club. I'll work on it while I'm making Mikos' sword.

Since we're only really here for a week, it's time to do a little tourism. We went to one of the circuses (Not the one on the Campus Martis, thank you very much) and we had, well, basically family time. I spoke, talked and started getting a hustle on here and there before I went by myself to check out the unveiling of the statue of Octavian. Not gonna lie, there ceremony was really nice. Octavian's procession was badass - and I mean why not, he is kind of the emperor. Rose petals raining down (because they haven't invented confetti) and Octavian was regal. He made a nice speech, and then walking toward the statue the released several baskets of doves.

Oh. Fuck.

I looked around for something bad happening, and it didn't happen to me, but to someone else. A woman was being kidnapped, with her husband was rapidly dying. No good on all accounts. Not much I could do for the husband, but the wife I could save. Maybe. Hopped up onto the crowd and started dancing on shoulders, much to the dismay of the owners of the shoulders, but I got to the four who were doing the kidnapping. swords out and there was stabbing. It wasn't like I was trying to kill all of them, and I didn't - three bolted while the fourth choked out some dying words. Well...Mors got one. I think. Where the heck was she when we needed her, other than playing footsie with hades.

At the same time, I nicked the three others pretty good, and the lady was mostly unharmed. Turned out she was a cousin of Octavian, and would probably be empress if enough people died. But at the same time, not a thing. We talked, I claimed to be from Britannia since there's no such thing as Colorado but I still have the accent. After we talked to the cops (Centurions?) about it, we found where my chariot was parked and made our way to a cafe while we waited for rush hour to clear. Since the emperor was throwing a damn good feast afterward because damn that statue was good. I may be taking more credit than I should for it, but then again, yeah. May need to back that down a bit.

After the cafe, I escorted her back to her place, and we talked about what was happening, the day, and then tried to steer things to a neutralish bit. We went to the cellar where she gave me a large number of amethysts her late husband had slated for something. And that was when something weird happened. I really looked at her for the first time and her eyes reached deep into my soul. Then they made a merry dance through my stomach and down to my nethers for a nice warm toasty feeling. There's something...she hit me metaphysically, and I'm not sure if she knows the effect she has.

And this is weird, it was, I was comparing her to Goda and Goda kept coming up short. I don't understand this. I mean I have these feelings, I've only been married to Goda for a little bit but still, there's ties there already and I'm seriously considering cutting her loose. I don't understand this. I mean, part of me is ringing the alarm bells of Helena and Astarte, but the other part of me thinks it'll be different this time. I'm really having trouble with this, and I need to get my head straight.

When Hermes told me to trust no-one, I wonder if that included me.

Funerals and Trouble

Going home was the roughest part. I had to explain to Goda everything, and I kinda sidetracked to, wellll...I took her to bed. It was irritating because here I was making the beast with two backs with Goda and the whole time I was thinking about the widow. It's not even right - definitely there have been times when I would take anything on offer and said thank you. This doesn't sit right. I'm being emotionally toyed with, I know it, but I can't do a damn thing about it because it's such a primal level thing all I can really do is ride the wave and hope it doesn't turn out as yet another infamous Greek tragedy. 50 dinars says whoever's yanking my chain turns it to ash the moment I break it off with Goda.

The morning did not bring clarity. I heard prayers and answered them - seriously, that's interesting. I think the reason why the gods are so cryptic is because there's a lot of people clamoring for attention, and I hear them all, so legit there's not enough hours in the day to answer everyone. After, I went to the villa and spoke to the guards out front. While the guards were sympathetic, they did advise that I was invited to the funeral and after the traditional 30 days of mourning were completed, she would be more than pleased to see me. So that was a thing.

I trucked it back to the house, told my new priest to take a nap on account of priorities, and we were off and shopping for funeral clothes. Which went well, as such things go. Properly attired, we hired a wet-nurse for Atreus and went to mourn a companion. Goda was concerned, however once I explained all the details she was...well, jealous. Honestly I don't blame her. Hell, I'm jealous of her husband, and he's dead. Lock the feelings in a box old son.

The funeral was, well, a funeral. Pallbearers, professional mourners - they definitely had some coin, because the mourners were all about it. Muddy hair, wailing, and kicking up a storm. The funeral pyre was lit, and we watched as the flames consumed him and forged an image of his ascension to Olympus to be with the gods themselves. I might have had a little to do with that. But all in all, it gave some measure of peace to the widow, and some manner of concern to the assembled - possibly he was more favored by the gods than originally believed.

He was, but.

Afterward, I was invited to go to the bar with some of his friends so that we could pour one out for him and have a few ourselves. Kid's with the babysitter, we got this. And we went to the temple of Dionysus - damn fine place to ease troubles. The plan was for me to have a quick sip, pour a libation to an unmet friend, and from there we'd be on our way and maybe I could get some distance and get my head right.

And then Dionysus himself showed up. Goda was having a very nice time, I was well into drink number "I lost count", and Dionysus arrived with two panthers and a party time look. From there it was a blur of philosophy, remembrance, and enjoying the sights - and damned if there wasn't a lot to see. Given how the night went, I may have to broach the discussion of polygamy/polyandry with Goda and the conversation may be easier then originally anticipated. One hopes.

However, after the party came the literal hangover of the gods. I woke up with a goat for a pillow amongst many others who were in a similar condition. The morning was chilly, and whatever I was wearing last night had long since gone as a sacrifice to Dionysus. From the looks, I was certainly not the first to exit the temple in such a state. Then things got weird.

I took a few steps and found myself in a dungeon. Exploring, I found a winged morpheus spiked to the wall and not having a good time, Mors and we really couldn't catch up on account of shit getting real - to wit, three things with hot irons about to give Mors and Morpheus a greeting.

No, I did not ask how big the room was before I cast Fireball. Some traditions must be upheld. On the up side, we got out of that room in this bizarre dream realm and stepped onto the set of Aliens. Literally. I was well cheered to have the Colonial Marine issue gear, but I was less cheered about what my sensors were reading. 30 meters, 20 meters...and the world got loud. Quickly. Three three round bursts, and I was happier than I'd been in a longass time. Behind me I heard the sound of Morpheus burning through his entire clip in panic mode.

Big H please forgive me if I whack the amateur upside the head when we get out of this. Especially since he got dragged away, I pulled a nice headshot to save him - and then Mors who was hiding and doing awesome things dealt with the fifth one that was about to rudely deal with my noggin by shooting the secondary attack mouth off. I felt better, but we finally made it through the station and to the exit...of Tartarus.

Fuck me gently.

Lunch with who?

Once we got out of Tartarus, with the happy smell of cordite still in my nose, I was almost run over by a chariot. Add that to the list of things I never thought I'd write. Of course, I was still only marginally conscious after the Dionysus-fest, but that's kinda my fault. At any rate, I woke up in a nice little place outside of Rome which I learned was home to a fella who traded in slaves, Porcinus by name. Somewhat ironically, Porcinus was rail-thin, and as we talked about the bad events that led to our fate, I stayed for lunch. His daughter was as handsy as decorum allowed, but I was able to keep her mostly at bay. We talked some more and honestly I felt like I had to reward him in some way so I tried to give him a few gold. I wound up purchasing a wet-nurse from him because, well, kinda needed one. Also accepted a party invitation, as a handsome well-spoken smith wouldn't go amiss. And then to home, where Atreus was happy to see me, the wet-nurse we'd hired for the night was done in and not taking any more jobs for a couple days at least, and I gave the nurse her first job on account of I needed to go find Goda.

First stop, the temple of Dionysus - I did not want to go in there on account of I was still half in the bag from last night. For those who've never experienced it, you do not turn down wine from the god of party time - but you may want to make sure your schedule's clear for at least the next day or two. After a time, Goda's description was matched, but she left with a Germanic gladiator. On the up side, I'm pretty sure one of us got laid. On the down side, I wasn't sure where Goda was, and that was a bad thing.

It took some looking, but I did eventually find her at a gladiatorial school. It was kind of amusing, because a couple people were trying to flip me shit about Goda, which I pretty much shrugged off, and one of the younger ones was trying to make a name for himself or something. It was fun, and then I tousled his hair a little and asked who the cutey wooty widdle boy was, he took umbrage at that and then the debate started. Not gonna lie, it was refreshing to just be in a nice little barfight - problem was I was still a weee bit under the weather but sobering a touch. Finally it got broken up and Goda was brought out. She was piiiisssed because, well, not gonna lie she had a reason to be pissed at me, but at the same time the fervor for the widow was cooling off. Note to self - get righteously trashed next time before it gets weird. Still, I was able to carry Goda off with apologies and whatnot, and we went home, where an epic row ensued. Dishes were thrown (but not pots or pans - she wasn't that mad,) words were exchanged, and Goda hinted that the wet nurse was there for me to take in a manly fashion. From there it got physical, and proceeded apace to the marital chamber, where it got more physical. Ahem.

So that ended well.

And then I got a message in a dream from Morpheus, to wit his girlfriend was missing and aid was requested. Apparently he'd discovered that she'd been bought and sold and was on a boat headed for the ass end of the Republic - to wit, Constantinople. Or what'll be Constantinople, right now it's in the 5 huts, 12 goats, and a lot of bad BO stage. Which, given what's happening in a few days (Halloween) was flipping weird. Time to go confirm it, I went back to the Gladiator school and asked if they had heard of an arena pumping the tires for a special event. Having seem Kimiko fight a little, she'd be touted as a main event. They confirmed it, and I fixed several swords in return. Okay I cheated, but at the same time I also hinted that the Temple of Cercyon would be a fine place for a smith to go.

Back to the arena, where they swore that Kimiko wasn't there. Huh. Morpheus put the guards to sleep, and I went over and in to open the door. Not too tough, but then we eventually found her and it looks like this is the start of something bad, as I saw some Lasombra-ish shit afoot. On the up side, it was afternoonish so it wasn't too terrible. we bailed and got Kimiko a body and I left the two of them and her breakfast at his temple. Hoookay. On the up side, I got my temple cranking up. Materials have been procured, the priests are watching over it, and it's being designed with expansion in mind. We'll have some room, including a sleeping area (note to self 2: special sleeping area for the devoted wives who are stuck while their beloved is knee deep in inspiration. Call it Godas' Room.) Thin quartz dome for the roofing, which will double as a sundial. From there, smelters and the forges themselves. We want function, and the functions are craft and inspiration. Good workers, good wages, and we'll kick it up. I have a sense of deja vu here.

But at the same time, things still needed to get done. To wit, lunch with Mors. And Mors brought a guest. Julius Motherfuckin Caesar. No warning, no FYI. I was able to contain the squeeing, but I may have fanboy'ed a little. So that happened and i was giving him advice on how to be a god. Name change, figure out what he's the god of, and the other sundry things. From there it was prep for Porkys party. I traded amethysts for emeralds and silver to make a hairnet for Goda. We brought the tailors to us - seriously i got shit to do and projects to finish.

The party was very interesting-among the luminaries was flippin Germanicus. Which was several shades of awesome on account of, well, Germanicus. At the same time I'm uneasy, because he's going to shred Godas tribe in a few years. However tonight he was full of piss and vinegar about the loss of the Legions. Not my fault. All that said, he's a great guy, Goda was a little uneasy at first. Then the party kicked off hardcore with me and Morpheus having a fine old time.

Then the world changed. Me and Morpheus noted odd temporal effects with things, but neither of us put it together until after the fact. The fact being Germanicus was killed and the time flow has been massively fucked. There's a lot happening. It was odd, and in thinking it over along with postmortem actions - i think someone dosed Germanicus with arsenic, and then sped up his body to create the illusion of the poison being administered over time. Mors was duly summoned, and from there the second thing happened. The Die Inferi are involved, as Germanicus was also stabbed. The knife annihilated his soul.no animation, no questioning, nothing. This is massively fucked.

We got questioned, were released, and subsequently we had to go over everything with Julius the next day. On the whole, we need more information. And we need to replace Germanicus. It's quite possible that we may just need to find a Toreador to object read the knife or murder scene to determine who did this. And also we may need to head to Olympus with Hermes to give the information to the important Gods so we can go about working on our individual bits.

Fixing History Isn't Done In A Day

Now here's the thing about a Roman temple. It has a specific structure, a specific design. Rectangular, columnized, and conforming to a few things architecturally. The benefit of being a young god is you can take these rules and shitcan them. And construction workers do not wear hard hats. So what I'm building may eventually be a rectangle with the addons, but for now it's a square area with a dome and living quarters, as well as storage and a few other things to but the local minds at ease. The only thing I'm not comfortable with is our proximity to the Campus Martius. Everything else is good. The architect seemed a little bemused and questioning when I spoke about utilizing quartz and more specifically a quartz dome. It can be done, but it's not going to be easy.

That said, even though the temple is under construction, the church is at work. We're doing things, making stuff, and I get a few projects waiting. Primarily, there's a sword that needs made, there's a chariot that needs to get upgraded, and I need to introduce Dionysus to a good Irish Stout. The sword for Kimiko was a bear, because I had to get quality iron from Vulcan - they were able to part with a few ingots worth as a thank you for the statue.

So, leather apron of Cercyon donned, and I had several hours of prep before I even got to work. Job one, refining the iron to a carbon steel form, then pouring the mess into a kiln to be fired, and then the forging and folding. Being a god of fire is handy in these instance because I can hold the heat easily. And the folds. 708 to be exact. One for every song in the discography of ACDC, Aerosmith, Queen, and ZZ Top. Okay I didn't get all the way through ZZ Top, but some of those Queen songs are long, man.

In any case, with the dawn came the mark, and then the final fitting and testing with Kimiko. It worked to her satisfaction - from the way she looked at it, I think she had a bouncing baby badass in her arms as she went to get a proper scabbard for it. I pretty much went home because that style and that much work took it out of me. I mean I'm a god so it's definitely a benefit, but these all nighters are murder. I cleaned up and crashed out, and then got up and fixed my chariot up. A little flint and iron on the axle for a sparker, a new paint job, and a little filigree work, and its' a chariot worthy of the name. During all that was the 3 hours of boiling and kegging necessary to the Stout.

With all that done, it was not time to relax, as while putting finishing touches on my chariot of fire, one of the household found a thief in the house. Said thief bailed the hell out and was looking for the knife that was used on Germanicus. They found it and were taking it back. I fired a warning shot - although let's be real, a fireball isn't exactly a warning but I digress. Then hauled ass up and over with a bow and arrow and then went to give chase. In an alleyway where the theif had stabbed a second of my servants, and I promptly shot an arrow into the thiefs' wrist. the dagger was dropped, but he got away. Damnation. I was able to see his movements for a bit in the pommel of the dagger, but the little sunnovabitch chalked a door, put a symbol on it, and walked through. Fucking Die Inferi. I gotta say my temple's in a decent neighborhood, but my neighbors have a high potential for annoying the fuck out of me.

Guards were hired, orders were given, and then it was time to hit the temple to check on progress and make sure that the early worshippers were taken care of. I've got a few more commissions in play at the temple the next day - someone needs their chariot worked, an equestrian wants me to fix up his armor, the army wants me to take a peek at their ballista, and Aphrodite wants a gold phallus. (okay not literally, but she is a good kisser.) The armor is easy - we're going to redo the leather so that it's a scaled design, and then back each plate in a resin for kinetic absorption and spread so that broken bones become wicked bruises. Finally, we're backing the whole mess in a thin wire weave so that a stab can't go too deep. I may need to borrow a loom for this last one.

For the chariot - Hubcaps. Easy-peasy. I may need to put those on mine. Ballista, is a tricky bit. Most of the improvements are going to be on the materials and minor design tweaks. A gearing system to make the reload process faster, and a few tweaks in the torsion bars, and bobs' your uncle. Last bit, Aphrodite. I'm not exactly sure what she did with the kissing, but I ditched work early on account of "horny as hell". Goda was very pleasantly surprised. Repeatedly. Ahem. But still, after all that mess I had to catch up with Morpheus and let him know what was about, so we went out to lunch where I picked up the tab and he wanted to know more about a sword he'd ganked from Crom. I touched it and was talking to Crom. It was a blade of fertility and sacrifice, and I couldn't tell Morpheus about it. At all. Also, he shouldn't have it. But - in the long run, events'll probably transpire so that one of us'll have it.

Home again, and an invitation to Germanicus' wake was on my door. Oh this is going to be fun as a swift kick in the nuts. We got a couple days, but I need a new outfit more appropriate to the occasion - to wit, mourning.

At the same time, we're going to be amongst some of the heavies of Roman society; and there will never be an occasion too solemn for politics. As I was the first one on scene, I get a place of dubious honor. It's gonna be fun, but on the up side, we'll have Gaius Julius and we're going with a purpose. Two actually. One being see if we can't out the murderer, Two being to find a replacement who can whip some legions up and maybe not quite put things right, but get history back on track-ish.

History vs the god of time

The days were getting full - I had to get my projects going. Armor is planned, chariots are being worked, and I have a few other things going. But at the same time I can't make something from air. Gotta get some iron and for that we need to get some ore. So we went to the market, and found a merchant who was, for lack of a better word, a total mark. So I pretty much took him for a ride and called for a jug of wine - this poor guy needed help. So I gave him a bit of advice and watched for a few hours. He's still new, but I like him. Not entirely sure how much I can mold him; he just seems like his heart's not in it.

I went back to the temple and was properly impressed with the Roman construction crews, the temple's coming along nicely. So I went and doodled out a few plans to create the necessary wire for a iron mesh undershirt for the equitae (the resin was not happening in a way that would work), and then a balancing act of materials for the charioteer - we're running iron bars through the spoke cores, and then trimming the weight in noncritical areas so the horses don't have to pull more. That'll be a few days of work.

Finally I got my shipment of iron ore and needed to smelt it to get the goods - which meant it was time for the god in me to show up. I heated the pots to separate the ore from slag, and poured it into sand casts to make proper ingots. And showing off a little bit. That stuff's going into a vault once we're done, because, well, I got tons of iron, and the cheapest way to get iron is to steal it. Couple guards for that, and then it was time to get dressed for Germanicus' wake. Unfortunately, I had a lot of followers. Apparently showing off has consequences. Who knew? However, new problem - I have people who want to pray to me, but they're not exactly the smiths I've been pulling in.

I had a crowd of about 300-ish following me. It was not entirely fun. And Goda was more than a little disconcerted. Also, of note there were about a dozen divines around at the orations for the wake. It was impressive, really. But after the orations, we made our way to the Campus martius for the pyre. Also impressive. Especially because someone who was a deity of fire and not me made some serious pyrotechnics.

I hate when people who aren't me show off.

Afterward, it was...sedate-ish. Food was given, and we had a very impressive feast. Through it all, there were eyes on me. Creepy. And then I got to speak to Vesta. It was a good talk, really - but at the same time there was a bit of a warning. Don't trust Vulcan on account of he's broken and expects people to be dickish just on principle. Also, apparently I'm a mostly good guy. Mostly.

People keep warning me about Vulcan. Maybe the dude just needs needs a friend. Something to think about.

In any case, things rapidly got out of hand. After talking with Vesta and getting a ton of warnings of the 'even a god can die' she gave me a motherly kiss on the forehead (Fortunately my face was clean so she didn't lick her thumb and clean off any schmutz) and I found myself in a iffy situation. 4 women dragging Drusus to a stairwell.

Because of course. Sadly, my hero complex kicked in hard. Unfortunately, I couldn't get a fireball out - I didn't really want to roast Drusus, on account of if he died things would get bad. On the other hand I could blitz and attack. And I did; but I came out on the short end and managed to bail out before I got absolutely wrecked. Note to self, stop coming to these parties without a sword.

When I woke up, I was in a room with Morpheus, and I have seen that look before. He found Bacchus. Good times. However, he was also kind of wrecked. Somehow, we managed to find the praetorians and tell them what was up, and then discovered a problem. Goda was missing, however Atreus was being doted on by all the ladies. Including Vesta. I was reminded that gods and mortals marriages end in tragedy.

We were able to get back to the stairwell, which was the dungeon. Good times. Trouble ensued, as the Albino who'd killed Germanicus. And he had a knife to Godas' throat. Meanwhile, things were starting to warp. They wanted a deal - knife for Goda.

On the up side, I tried bargaining. It didn't exactly work out, as I wasn't as specific as I should have been. I got the albino, the woman, and a partycrsahing Lasombra. It was not fun, but time has not completely twisted out of shape even further. Lasombra staked, and thewoman and Albino were placed in a secure location. I woke up the Albino and went to work.

This may be exhibit A for Why I'm Not An Entirely Good God. I had to wake him up, so I punched him. Then after he woke up and started threatening me, I took a knife and heated it rather severely and started asking questions. There were some seared nipples - Not gonna lie, I might have taken it to excess but he did have a knife on Goda. Also of note, he may have cut her a bit. Also, seared knees. He finally broke when I started manscaping with a red-hot knife.

Good news, he was a font of information. Bad news, when I went to relay information, he left. The bastard. However, two things of importance. He is Agrippa, the black sheep of the family. He's working with Kronus to gain the the throne. The real question is what's in it for Kronus - it's possible he's trying to break out of Tartarus. And the only ones who can do a darn thing about it are us.

So we're going into the sewers of Rome to go find a forbidden temple and rescue my wife and a consul of Rome.

all this and I have to get my temple sorted.

Pardon me but do you have the century?

Now, I was never a Nosferatu, but I can say a few things in re: sewers. The first thing to realize about sewers is there ain't nothing nice in them. Ever. And that includes the Nosferatu. The second thing is that decomposition happens, raising the ambient temperature about 10-15 degrees, depending on what's going on at street level. Third, each sewer has it's own unique charms. Take for example Rio. Since it's a relatively tropical climate, Rio's sewers are not unlike a sauna insofar as temperature and humidity. and the system is theoretically built well, but a few things have caused the ambiance to settle. By contrast, the Dresden sewers are not as homey or warm, but they are a testament to efficiency. The corners are just rounded enough so that fluid dynamics allows everything to go where it needs to without excessive waste of energy.

The Romans never studied fluid dynamics as it pertains to sewage. Everything was squared off and locked down, which cause inefficiencies. These small things were building up. Like smells. And carcasses. That make smells. Making things worse, I had Mors and her happy campers behind me along with some Praetorians, all of whom would have rather been somewhere else. On the up side, Kimiko could somehow sense where Morpheus Eventually, we slugged through muck and made it to a door, which I looked at for awhile and realized it was a temple to Eris Discordia. So not fun.Much less fun when Kimiko said Morpheus was in there. And the Praetorians were all looking at the door with various degrees of Not Wanting A Damn Part Of That Bullshit No Way No How.

I have to admit I didn't want to go in there either, but since morpheus, Goda, and Drusus were in there. And when the heir apparent is missing, we have to fix that shit. Fortunately, we're already in the sewers. After looking at it a few ways Kimiko scratched the hell out of the door (when the hell did she get claws?) and yoinked on the door. In the back of my head I was already putting together a breaking and entering kit for the next time we gotta pull something like this, and that kit includes WD40. Or the local equivalent. Screechy bronze doors suck.

Walking in felt particularly ominous, not merely because shit was about to go sideways. I mean it was, but not just because we were entering the temple of the flipping goddess of discord. It was also because, well, we were entering someone elses' temple. And that meant no access to those unique things that make a god a god. At the same time, the soldiers were worried - fortunately the captain of the guard was there with a few steady-on-lads and promises of hazard pay. I also had a definite creepy feeling like there was some old school D&D happening. The floor was cold and uneven, and there was frost on the walls. On the up side, it didn't stink as much.

The D&D feeling was made worse when I found that someone had mapped the place and drawn a crude map on the wall - with their own fingers. That was disconcerting as hell. Also of immediate concern was the barred kitchen, which after we opened forcefully was home to 4 mostly naked women offering us food and drink. It was warmer in here, but D&D rule #8 came into play; we do not accept anything from mostly nekkid denizens of the dungeon. Ever. A few turns later, there was more concern as a cherub of a lad talked to Kimiko who was on point, and after that she promptly went batshit crazy on us, only being turned away by our torches, and then she ran off into the night. And she dropped her sword. The sword that I made. That she cuddled like a newborn baby, and may in fact love more than Morpheus. Someday, I'm gonna pay someone to ask her that question. While I stand way over somewhere else.

First things first though. We rallied and kept going down when something with far more legs than is strictly necessary made a bullrush attack. I did a swing and a miss, and one of the Praetorians died in a manner which would be best described as anal hemorrhaging. And the billipede didn't even take the Preatorian to dinner first. Just, uh, straight up poopchute and then dialed itself to frappe. And if you think that was bad, the thing turned the praetorian and went out the mouth into his buddys' mouth to promptly go two for two.

See what I mean about shit going sideways?

The newest immediate problem was that the billipede was going to utterly wreck the entire night in the next 30 seconds. Ditch the torch, sword came out and I wrecked it's day to a degree, or at least enough that it left. And then we came to the door. Lady Mors was kind enough to pick the lock, but she forgot to check for traps. So I did and found some very cunning acid traps encased in thin glass. Enough to wreck anyones' day. Unfortunately, time was not on our side, figuratively and literally. So we went in and found ourselves in a large chamber of statues and sacrifices. And that's when discipline went to hell. In the temple of discord. The whole cerw pretty much went to a bunch of squabbling kids inside 2 minutes, which meant that by the time order had been restored, we were down six Praetorians due to various traps, problems, and death dealing things, and I was really not a happy camper.

Fortunately, Kimiko could smell Morpheus. and we went over the trapdoor into a nice clean room with one thing in it. A box. With a button. Rule #24 came to mind; "Do not under any circumstances push the button." Unfortunately, Kimiko said that was where the trail ended. Shit. Shit a dozen times. I called for spear and told people to back the fuck up, and pressed the button.

It was an odd sensation or 12, but when the room resolved, it was a warehouse. It didn't smell right though, and when we peeked out, it was the 19th century-ish. Balls. This was bad, but the box was gone, the surviving praetorians were there, and this was rapidly getting into troublesome. The only good thing was that it was night, and we were able to follow Morpheus' scent to the insane asylum. Yes Dear Reader, I did in fact consider ditching him there, but that would have been mean. Also, Goda and Drusus were in there as well, but a 19th century sanitarium is no place for a lady. Or an heir to the republic. Or a god. Or anyone, really. And I had an undeniable urge to punch something. It had been one of those nights.

There was some fast talking that got us in and I also kinda found some people who needed money, but finding everyone was a chore. Pretty sure the doctor in charge was going to admit me as a patient if Mors hadn't jumped in. Also I was in a violent kind of mood, because, well...to be perfectly honest just because. Possibly because Vulcan wasn't around to answer prayers. Or if he was he wasn't talking to me. That said, I was thoroughly disappointed when the doctor tried to chloroform me, but once we'd sorted him (and liberated the bottle of chloroform) we finally got everyone loose. I really wanted to punch him with the chloroform. According to Morpheus charts, he was getting ice baths and intravenous cocaine in order to treat night terrors and various other psychoses. They were also giving him electroshock therapy. Wild times. I was able to find him, knock the guard out with magic naptime juice and then a moral dilemma presented itself.

To turn the electroshock therapy off, or turn the dial to 11. I mean, it probably wouldn't kill him to kick it all the way up. Probably. But if I did that, Kimiko would be mad, and I really didn't want to deal with her mad. So I flipped the switch off, undid the straps and stood back as Kimiko launched herself and promptly had her way with a coked-up electrified god. Some day, I'm going to get Kimiko tanked and ask her what the hell she sees in him. But not today. The rest of it went pretty cleanly, Drusus and Goda were collected (And I have a nagging suspicion that if we go back and investigate, we're going to find a few others that shouldn't be here). Mors was lugging a pharmacy worth of goods to get Morpheus back on track, and Goda was well and truly out of it. We promptly went to the warehouse for a return trip.

Problem was, no box. No box, no return trip. Mors took a powder and when she came back, she had information for us. Which was good, but at the same time not good, as we were stuck in 1880's London for the immediate future, and my funds were going to run dry rapidly. Time to get the boys in a suite, get them settled, and start working of going back to 9 AD.

This gonna be fun.

British Gods. So British.

So things are moving rapidly. Once we sorted out that the return trip was in fact going to be problematic, things needed to be acquired. So we managed. I have a few things for people here and there, and even managed to make a Mauser knock-off (With a little Mal); 25 round clip since it's being chambered for a slightly smaller round than the standard, still accurate and still a nice piece of work. And as a final bonus, hollow-point.

Then to the library to figure things out. This path we're on has a lot of differences; since we were party to some huge changes in history, after the reign of Augustus the Roman Empire just kinda forgot to get out of the starting gate really. So the world while still highly christian in influence, has a great deal more Germanic roots in terms of alphabet and so forth. Guinness is still Guinness, but they call it Swarb - apparently the British still can't pronounce schwarzebier. Or don't want to. Either way. While noodling things out, I've gotten at least a few weird looks, and on the up side a few invitations to meet the locals. from a guy with a mechanical face. That ws creepy as hell, really. Hopefully I'm not messing with anyones' orbit. That's rude.

That said, I've also rented out an entire floor for the group at a nice hotel, so alternate funding is going to be required soon. I was able to meet the head of a shipping company whos' father had just passed, and we have a date to get a few things sorted out, and the poor woman is going to have problems. Firstly, she's a young woman. Secondly, she's a young woman. We had a nice dinner with the accouterments of high society, and discussed her options, and I promised her I'd have some plans for her shortly to improve her fleets. Meanwhile, I met another nice lady who proferred an invitation of sorts - the idea here was to meet the other gods of the locale and explain what the funk.

History doesn't repeat itself, but it does seem to rhyme now and again.

After that, we had to hit the library for some serious research on just what improvements I could make - and oooffa these people were behind in a few of the sciences. Metallurgy was a big one - improvements there for lighter steels and stronger hulls would make for better boats able to carry greater cargoes. Unfortunately Marconi and Tesla are still teenagers, so wireless isn't happening. Secondly, I needed to research what sort of gambling was going on here, so that I could make some fast profit. Card games were a nonstarter, but a few others were indeed there. Amusingly, it was couched with a lot of "Goodly Menne hath not time for this frivolity, forre theye knowe the worthe of the Immortal Soul" phrasing. Just like pool halls, drive-ins, and the arcades. That done, we still had things to do, and were on our way when the Fates decided our lives were just going too darn well.

Mors hopped out of the hansom and hauled ass. Apparently as Deaths' Door Greeter, she gets these little hints when someones' about to die, and someone was about to die. In a nasty alleyway. In London. In the late 1800's. This is not a surprise, however things got rough quickly as this murder was done by someone of a barely divine nature. This ain't good at all; and it got worse when the knife was ripped rudely from my person. Yes, the knife.

I was rather displeased. and the person who took it knew that he had done messed up, as I promptly chucked a fireball at him. The chase was in fact on, appointments forgotten. And then the bastage cut a hole in the brick wall with the knife, and tried to disappear in it. We got through it and it brought back an experience I could only describe as not unlike escaping mothers' womb. But far less pleasant. we came out the other end and found ourselves in a boxing arena. It wasn't good, because I could feel the little git in the crowd. Crowds plus gunfire equals panic, death, and other annoyances. I lost Mors and the git, because I had a very rotund and very british looking man asking what the heck. He was also a divineish, which helped. We put all the tools away, and retired to a pub to figure out our next move. Worst case we had a couple pints and meet back at the hotel.

Worst case was much better than what actually happened, as I was just about to wrap my laughing gear around a pint when I could feel a ton of pain from Mors. Good news in the bad, the chase was in fact back on. Bad news in the good, I had to leave my pint. And off I went, stopping only to confirm Mors was okay...ish. I mean she did have her arm cut off, and was leaking way more than a healthy body should. She did mention there was some kind of eerie Masonic symbol on his necklace On the up side I could feel him. Through the crowd, it was now move or be moved for everyone else, on account of the mess that was about to happen. I chased him to the Thames and was able to spot him in the fog - okay I felt him, and my new pistol got field-tested.

I winged the sumbitch and he fell into the river. I may have just killed me a man - it's 1888, the Thames is an open sewer with a name. However, there might have still been something in the boat that he left. Say, a really nice dagger. I had to hire a boat and looked it over...I was going to have to come back with some proper tools and some daylight. We eventually made it to the other boat whereupon I took possession of a doctors' bag and a walking cane. We confirmed with the gentlemen on the other boat that their passenger had just fallen into the Thames, what a shame, and didn't they deserve a nice pint themselves for all their hard work? Right then.

Back to the bar for a pint. Finally. Introductions were in order, as I was in the company of one John Bull. Essentially, the bluecollar aspect of London. Not a bad guy to have a beer with, but suspicious of the foreigner. That'd be me. But he knew a lad who might be able to help, and we made our way to a little row-house and up the stairs to an office that was one part lab, one part sitting room, and one part utter wreck. Nice guy with a pipe sitting there, and we gave him the bag and let him get to work. He began with multiple statements of the obvious, and there was a repressed "No shit, Sherlock" before we got to the meaty goods. In short, doctor, necromancer, and apparently associated with the Freemasons, which made our next stop the masons' hall.

Part of me wants to take a day and go see if anything I made survived to the British empire museum.

Progress is a smokestack.

By the time we'd gotten everything sorted, we were well and truly out of it, so a nap was in fact in order. Back to the hotel for chaos. Mors had kept a few people knocked out on morphine, but since she was schwacked out on morphine herself at the moment, they were coming around and not doing great - I counted days and realized they were well into the heavy addiction stage, and at the point where the treatment was going to be weaning them off slowly.

Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Someday I'll get a tombstone and carve that on it.

After sorting that a bit, we took a nap, and Morpheus took the time to drop a nice dream on the place - a utopic vision of London. Like, 1980's London. After the fact he mentioned it was an inspirational dream; I think I would have gone in a slightly different direction. Because seriously, me in hammer-pants while London Calling is jamming on a boom-box down the street is not so inspirational. I mean it was cool, but still. It was a great time until the self-styled Lord Confessor of Propriety showed up and wanted to break up the party. My Inner Calvin decided that we'd had enough of his self-important yammering right around verse 2 of his sermonizing about how this was wholly improper and therefore wrong. And they were trying reallly hard to arrest Morpheus, but since this kinda was his party, he was making their lives difficult. Which put all the attention on Morpheus and not me. Which really makes what happened next their fault.

I pantsed the God Confessor of Propriety. For the curious, he wore neither boxers nor briefs, it was a long-johns sort of thing and I'm pretty sure he'd never heard of Leg Day. He and his two companions were not amused, especially since I channeled MC Hammer and did a Can't-Touch-This dance away. It was to all viewing, utterly hilarious. Propriety turned several shades of red and purple at this affront to his person, and as it turned out he could touch this and did, severely. Damn shame, really. Eventually the party got shut down along with punk rock. Damn killjoy.

Waking up wasn't really bad, but not awful. It was evening, and the boys had figured out room service. It was going to be a hell of a tab when we checked out. That said, we had things to do, and after making sure everyone was more or less there, we decided to get going to meet Brittannia. It's been an action item for a bit, but events and dreams have been shoving it down the list. When meeting Brittannia, clothes are in order, which made stop one for the evening Saville Row. I decided to take the stairs and was rewarded for my caution by a group of police officers trying to arrest me and my associates. Time to sneak. Sadly, Morpheus was about as stealthy as an elephant trying to shag a bull in a china shop. He was promptly bagged and tagged and I really didn't have any recourse except to go back upstairs. Where the inspector was waiting, much to my annoyance. We had a negotiation session, where I promised I'd go meet "The Six". I did promise, but it'll be in my own time, thankyouverymuch.

We took the elevator back down to the lobby. That was an error, as the elevator opened up to two of Propriety's bullyboys who wanted to manacle me and probably everyone else. and it was not the lobby, but in fact a basement dungeon. I definitely needed to get out of this mess, and since I really didn't want to chuck a fireball, I went with plan B - shoot, loot, and run. Strange rings and Navy revolvers were the order of the day, the two bullyboys were introduced to Knee Problems as they introduced me to Kidney Shot. After, they were not doing well but they were still trying, so they were then pistolwhipped into unconsciousness. And to make sure they had delays coming after me, I threw them both into a cell. Leaving was a matter of finding the exit. Door number one was a room with six hooded figures. Not that room. Door number two was the exit, but no door to lock behind me. However there was a dock with rowboats, and also a large dog with all the niceties of a rabid Tibetan Mastiff that had been bred to be extra-mean. I did not shoot the dog, as we have well and truly internalized the Tao of John Wick - "Do Not Shoot The Dog. Ever."

Rowing up the Thames was an exercise in disgust, but I did manage to make it to Parliament. I wasn't quite dressed for the occasion, but I did have a handkerchief stuff in the wound to slow the bleed. I was going to have to do something about that afterward, but for the moment I could hang. I was admitted, and concealed the gunshot as best I could - Teddy Roosevelt would be proud.

Brittannia is impressive; about 7 feet tall and a well proportioned 7 feet. The trident is a nice touch. It, uh, took me a minute to get to her eyes, as I was a distracted deity. I briefly explained the situation, and she took note of the shot and took care of it. The bad news was that the bullet was on the move. That was bad news in many ways, as when she removed it, it wasn't so much a bullet as a metal centipede. Neat engineering, but bad for my internals. Fortunately, Morpheus showed up with John Bull and the Detective before she could ask if I'd met Athena. I mean I have, but we weren't exactly on the same side. That said, we coordinated, discussed, and found that there was a possibility of a box existing that would return us to 9 AD. Handy, that. Back to the hotel where we'd take a nap and then get rolling.

Unfortunately, someone had cleaned out my room. and every room on the floor, in fact. The concierge was no help. So either someone really annoying was playing tricks, or...well, that was pretty much it - but the question was who. And as a god of fire, I was feeling like something needed a match. Fortunately, there was a messenger there who was there to deliver a message. He did deliver, but I kinda had a gun under his chin during it. We had to go to the Crystal Palace. A nice little landmark, but it wasn't Parliament. that said, there was a nice little gathering there and I got to meet the newest of the new. It was interesting to meet them. Propriety was there and he was very much displeased at my presence. Quite possibly he was mad that I existed. Probably. But the other gods I was able to make nice with, and over beer and cigars we were able to sort out what our next move was, which was a conference. A nice little round table which was one part planning session and one part bitch about the old gods who just sat around doing nothing. It was a bit like listening to kids gripe about their parents, made all the more amusing by the fact that in terms of linear time, Morpheus and I had a couple millennia on these guys. The astonishing thing to me was they didn't believe Kronos could be around and their bland self-assurance that they would have seen him. There are more things on heaven and earth then are dreamed of by your philosophy, Horatio.

Plans were sorted, and we sorted into groups to start investigating things properly, as we had 3 things to find. Warehouse where we arrived, Madhouse where Morpheus had been, and the Hellfire club. And then, once we'd sorted out how to get back, we'd have to grab the Dagger from Jack the Ripper. Fun times abound aplenty.

Lightbulbs and Butterfly Boxes

So things have happened and I'm thinking we're on a positive track of sorts; we managed to find and place one of the future victims in safekeeping, while we also had a few of the Rippers' friends (acolytes?) to interview. For one the interview didn't go well, but the second was far more productive. However, I kept having this weird feeling in the back of my head like I was definitely Older Brother when it came to fighting. Meanwhile, Zanziuer was pouting because I didn't respect his authoritah, and was threatening dire consequence if I didn't fall in line.

Yyyeah, that's a thing that'll have me quaking in my sandals.

The real work came after the pouting, when I went to a lab with Eur Gadget (the Steampunk Borg) and started talking about weapons. I gave him hints about rounds and such and then he yoinked out a gatling shotgun while I was thinking a pump-action rig and maybe a cheesewheel clip. It was weighty, but it could solve a lot of close-proximity problems. We found the graveyard where they were hanging out, and I got the lead. Because this was going to be violent action, and the British god of Violence has yet to be arsed to appear. The closest we've got is ye God of exploration, and he's more gentleman explorer than sleeves rolled up asskicking machine. And then things go dark. Literally. Pretty sure I got a concussion out of the deal, but in any event.

I woke up in a hotel with a young man that I'd killed in 1933 - who was still dead. And if that sentence makes you scratch your head in wonder, I beg you to remember that I lived it. My head was not right, and my hand had a wicked cut on it. I did still have all my weaponry and a quick sniff showed that I had been recently using these things - and that the world had been so hectic I'd barely been able to give them a wipedown. That sorted out, I managed to get my gear back to the Crystal palace, and shift self unto where the rest of the gods were.

Apparently I'd been out of it for a day, and from the reports I'd done a rather intense number on the Rippers' followers before there was an explosion. Also, he'd apparently been preparing to sacrifice Mors with the Glass Dagger. There was an after-action review of sorts, but the thing that left me the most disconcerted was that they were collectively...scared shitless. They wouldn't admit it, but it seemed like these young gods were facing their first test and they didn't know what to do. They were reverting to their strong suits, but without a coordinated attack or a leader, even a first among equals, they were up a proverbial creek.

As I was mulling this over, and thinking I needed a shot or 5 of Thinking Whiskey, the annoyance that is Zanziuer showed up in a foul mood with about 20 bullyboys, as he do. Apparently my grace period had expired and with it all the niceties. And I didn't even get a chance to defend myself, before I was apparently convicted. Now, I didn't know how many of them it was going to take to deliver me an asskicking, but I knew how many he was gonna use. And since I wasn't comfortable with straight murdering enough of them to make an exit, I pulled a trick of firewalking out. Which got me to the grounds, and then I slipped past to get a cab to get the flip out of dodge and meet up with Morpheus.

See, this is what annoys me about Zanziuer - he doesn't do jack for himself, he just has others do his dirty work. Leading from the rear is distasteful to me. One might even go so far as to call it improper.

Along the way, I was seeing more and more pictures of me (and they got my good side too) along with the words wanted, arson, and anarchy. So a disguise was in order. I went to a brothel and paid well to get a set of ladies' clothes and a few other niceties, as I needed to meet Morpheus at Big Ben. It worked, but *fuck* corsets. We met, got a hotel, and retired. Because in the morning there was going to be a trip to Parliament to get some questions. But first dinner. Morpheus was freaked out because the waiter was someone he knew, and one of the ladies was a noblewoman I'd run into from somewhere. Overall, things were starting to add up, and the answer might be holodeck. Or some sort of pocket reality that Kronos had generated for us; though to what end really? In any event, we were going to have to get out, and the only way was to play the game to the end, and then we could find out what the matrix really is.

The morning came, and with it the news. Media pleaded with me through the personal ads to give myself up. I was quite wanted, but as a woman I was in a decent position to get from point a to point b unaccosted. Parliament is a grand structure in any era, but this seemed right. But, back to Brittania for a little help and a realization - the box we need is in fact in Big Ben. We went up, with Brittania leading and me and Morpheus following (I deeply approve of following the tall badass hoochie) to the very top of the tower. Big Ben itself is a marvel and I was, uh, busy. For a bit. And then I was more or less forced to look down at the box and the occulty stuff, which re-confirmed that the box was the figurative and literal heart of London. And it we removed the box, London Bridge was falling down. Along with the rest of London.

That was a poor trade, to my mind, but I wasn't taking it off the table as a last resort. In any event, we were going to meet with Father Time, courtesy of Brittania - in theory, he'd have the answers, Or at least the answers that would lead us to questions which provided the answer. Note to self, next time meeting Brittania come correct. We had to split up at that point, with Morpheus heading to the Crystal Palace to play nice with the new gods, and me heading to 221B Baker street to meet a detective and start putting the puzzle together. I was almost there when I was rudely flipping kidnapped.

By Jack the Ripper. We were polite to each other, mainly since he still had Mors and the Glass Dagger. According to him, he was preventing the world from ending by killing the hookers - in his mind, they were evil and would spread evil, and by their destruction he would save London. That...well, hung together, I mean evil doesn't generally see itself as evil - but at the same time, we came to an agreement. I could keep Mors, but he had an expectation that there would be polite indifference to his killing, since there was a greater good at stake. The most frightening thing to me was that he believed his press releases.

The next thing I needed was a room, some clothes and a nap. I relayed everything to Morpheus, and let him use the one hooker we had in our care to test the theory. And further communication revealed that I might be allowed back if I gave a heartfelt apology for my transgressions to Zanzieur. Which is a nonstarter, to my mind. Frankly, he started the shit - he wants to pretend like he's proper, but his vision of propriety is funked. If I had anything to apologize for, I'd apologize for showing his pitiful ass to the world.

Saving this London is worth it, but it's going to be annoying as fuck.

Finally, meeting Father Time. It was an enlightening experience on several levels, not the least of which was finding out the Kronos, aka Papa Titan, was in fact my...well, progenitor, for lack of a more accurate term. We called bullshit, but a compelling argument was made. What is time, a deeply philosophical question that made me think of the NIST-F2 cesium clock in Boulder, aka accurate to 1 second every 300 million years - I used it as the baseline for my NTP servers back in 2023 (with accounting for lag, I had a good randomization for my security algorithm). Equations danced along my arm, and I had a deep...deep knowledge of Time.

So, there is to be a final accounting, and if all goes well, we can excise the evil and let the ladies of the evening survive, Jack can do his knife thing, and we can get ourselves enough breathing room to get back to Rome in time to set some things straight. And then I have to deal with some untested fledgling gods, including one whos' nose is severely out of joint.

Saving London Lives

So, the assets were few, the enemies were many and the real enemy was the godlings I was trying to save. And that was annoying as shit. Saving London was of paramount importance, because things were adding up to this being some manner of experiment or test by Kronos to find out who we were. With that in mind, we couldn't take shortcuts. So it was pounding the bricks to find the last two victims.

It went okay-ish, but at the same time it was very annoying, as I had to hit the Ten Bells pub and get some help from John Bull; the patron were skittish but the atmosphere became jovial after they put several rounds of drinks on my tab. After which we were directed to a few places they would probably go. We spent a few hours trawling through annoying places that were more like barns for people than actual places to sleep, and eventually found a place where they were. The lady who ran the place was none too happy about being awakened at this ungodly hour, but at the same time she was nice enough to answer the questions, to wit the two ladies we were looking for that were on the loose had been there, but apparently unnatural acts had been performed and so they were kicked out to go to elsewhere and sailors were mentioned. At which point she slammed the door on me.

Alas.

So a brisk walk to the docks where a bar as found held together with happy thoughts. The proprietor was a fairly well-fleshed fellow who after a few coins was more than happy to point me to their room. He probably thought I was slumming it, and he wasn't entirely wrong. I managed to jimmy the door, and one was gone but the other one was still there and swore I'd never get her - she thought I was Jack, and she promptly jumped into the me-forsaken Thames. I told John to take the land route as I was going to do The Stupid Thing and jumped my ass into the river.

It was not pleasant. I caught up to her and we went ashore and coughed a few times, with her still struggling. A sleeper hold was applied, and she very obligingly slept. With that, I asked John to take her to Brittannia to see what could be done. And then I got the everloving crap kicked out of me courtesy of Cristanzas' elephant gun. Fortunately, my last thought had the good sense to turn the lights out.

I woke up with Media and Cris taking me to the tube where I could be tried, found guilty of some various bad things and executed or imprisoned; possibly both. I didn't want to go there with any fiber of my being and as that thought became form, the world stopped. Well, bully for me I can stop time. I put it to the best use I could; I got out of the handcuffs and began to get the hell away, which became a slog and a half after I got up the stairs. I was able to press play on time and from there get away to a warehouse. I need better disguises.

The one I had was not working, and I had no idea what was next. I did know for certain that the headache I had was gunning for a place in the top 10 all time worst ever. I was willing to slot it in at #9 if it kept up for a bit longer. I was able to find a nice warehouse with some empty boxes, and while the warehouse was searched and oaths of "he won't get far" were heard, I felt fairly confident that I could elude pursuit. It took a few hours, but I was able to move without too much trouble. I managed to make myself look like a vagrant laborer, and managed to pay a person off for the privilege of hauling grain to a cart and riding said cart a bit to a different part of London where I could find a place to take a bath and get some nondescript clothes.

I found a chinese laundry/secondhand store next to a mortuary. Very good prices and I was prettty sure I knew where their stock was coming from. And if the dead had a problem with it, they could take it up with Mors. Who was outtheheck cold, but that wasn't something I could fix. What I could fix was saving the two people I could try to save. Which meant ditching this nasty mud and grunge disguise I was currently riding for something that would stand out less near Parliament. The next bit of bad news is that the proprietor recognized me as a god, and asked after me and my needs. It was nice, but there was a bit of a humble-off as we spoke first in English, then Chinese. At the end of it, I had a horse, his sons' outfit, and a bath. and I was able to bless the house as a god of prosperity does, with an abundance of gold. I did feel better about my chances of getting to parliament looking like this, however at the end of it there was a bit of a squick, as even properly dressed chinaman does not go to Parliament. It's simply...not done. Impropriety or some shit. I suppose if Zanzieur hears about it he'll add it to the pile.

That said, a few dekes and turns led me to a broom closet that was actually Brittanias' throne room. Quite frankly I cannot expound upon this womans' virtues enough. Note to self; help her ass later - in the past - when she's a baby-goddess. There was a quick discussion, and regrettably she doesn't have enough healing knowledge to fix the patient. That said, she left him in the care of John Bull until her eventual death, which would probably be in about 2 days. At least now I knew how long I had to work with. She did however compliment my bold fashion choices, and seemed pleased I had at least gotten to disguises in mens' attire. In any case, it was time to hike it to Johns' pub - the Red Lion, which was seriously as British as it gets. It as almost overdone, except it was done with such an earnestness I couldn't laugh. That said, John and I had a few pints waiting for Morpheus to show up. Morpheus asked for wine. Twice. On purpose. Of the two of us, I'm not sure which of us actually stood out more, but in short order we had a nap and some things to do.

We dreamed up a cleansing circle and operating theater all in one. Since I was able to describe the theory of an x-ray machine but not the brass tacks, we scrapped non-invasive exploratory surgery for a full-on ritual of cleaning. It was going well, until it wasn't. One minute I'm feeling confident, with cleansing fire, salt, and sigils, and the next it's red and her soul is asking if it's okay to leave now. The fuck she says. We were confused until we left the dream and woke up in a barfight. Apparently Jack had tracked her to the pub and had...done his thing. And now he was out, but his minions were still there and being rude guests.

We taught them manners with discrete applications of brute force.

That done, it was time to take stock. There was one left, and she was our last shot at doing this thing right and keeping jack from getting his level-up. Which meant going to the Crystal palace. I thought about it for a minute, because frankly there were weighty things on my mind. But at the end of the day, the right thing to do was still the right thing to do. And so we whistled up a few horses and we went for the battle of the crystal palace. It was fun, because the Dinobots were still there and growling. I lit up one, John just put a beatdown on the other, and away we went. Morpheus was taking a side route so as not to be associated with us, because we were maintaining the illusion that we were working separate tracks.

That done - it was off to the races, as Jack had gotten in first, the little bastard. FYI, fighting a running two-front engagement is not fun. fortunately I still had my gun and a decent layout of the place, but really all I had to do was follow the fallen bodies. Finally I made it to jack who held his last victim in a shield hold, and the gang was mostly here, new and old. Jack was making his way to a secret entrance of sorts, and was planning to take his hostage with him.

There's times when you have to gamble - but it's not gambling if you know you're going to win. The world shrank to my gun sights and jacks' eyeball; and I planted a bullet right in that sucker. He was not happy. And then the world got weird. Jack bailed, Zanzieur literally stabbed Peueriz in the back, and a golden gun somehow made it into my hand. After that it was off to the races, through some painful cold darkness and off to the the escape tunnel and to the tube where gadget, cristanza, and one of the media were just exiting.

The good news is that there wasn't much left of jack. There was a elephant gun to the midsection, a golden gunshot that was explodey and damn I wanna keep this through his chest, and a grenade rolling toward Jack and the Lone Survivor. The good news there is I was able to save her. The bad news is one of the Media made off with the Glass knife. Sacrifices are being made oft and with gusto here. Finally, we had everyone, and went back to my hotel - it was a middling night all around. There's still a lot to do, but I think John's going to bow out after this; after all it's really not his fight at this point.

But I need to go to the museum.