Story 4: Not gods, just fools
Ember, avatar of the Eternal Scar, stared at the group of armored champions advancing towards her. The tanned muscular warrior, completely nude saved for the skull of an iron wolf as a helmet, knew that this would be her last fight in the arena. For good must triumph over evil, and she's the representation of that evil. A lesson to be taught to the thousands of viewers in the stands of the stadium, baying for blood and gore in the name of justice.
Someone has to die in such morality plays, and it should always be the wicked. A role she was born into, as ordained by the gods and the baying crowds, among them the heroes of the community.
There is nothing to do, except nothing itself. She threw her sword aside, its blade sinking into the packed dirt. She cannot deny them their victory, but she can deny them the sweetness of their victory. She closed her eyes for what she assumed to be for the last time, hoping to find the elusive peace denied to her for all of her life.
Suddenly the crowd went dead silent, their deafening sounds replaced by the whispers of a breeze and the hushed tones of a thousand whispers. As she dared to open her eyes for a peak, a rather unexpected sight greeted her: The crumpled bodies of the champions, who were just a handful of steps before her.
And behind them, also moving towards her in an unhurried pace, are a trio of hooded figures, their worn dark red robes in contrast with their undefined outworldly presence.
Then the first of them took off her hood, and Ember saw a face only described in legends: The face who could only be worn by her supposed patron deity. A somewhat goofy but thin smile bisecting that massive scar, as if mocking the life and death struggles of mere mortals.
They were mocking the dark gods, and the dark gods replied.
"Hang on, is this for real?" The mysterious female remarked in a casual though puzzling tone, all the while the other two figures pulled out weird looking firearms from under their robes, the barrels aimed at the crowd around. "Well, I hate to dignify any of the local institutions around, but I guess this will do." She sighed as she took out a small but heavily laden pouch.
With a surprising amount of force she hurled the pouch at the part of the stands where the great lords were seated. The force of the impact promptly pulverized the pouch, releasing the gold coins within like shrapnel, causing a few casualties among the intended targets.
And with that the crowds broke into chaos, although the other hooded figures brandishing small and oddly looking handgonnes took potshots at some of the guards who were normally hidden. None appeared to have hit anything of importance though.
"Wah-" She stuttered as the Eternal Scar grabbed her by the arm, the small and dainty hand having a surprisingly firm grip. The multiple levels of disjoint giving her a sense of overall wrongness.
"Do you believe me?" Her patron deity asked cryptically in a serious tone, along with an expression to match on her face for the first time since she saw her.
With that, her hesitation evaporated, and she found herself following this mysterious group, through one of the entrances/exits, which had been blasted open some time before, outside the stadium, and towards a large metal... construct, bellowing air all over, along with more of those hooded figures, wielding more of those sleek looking weapons. During the confusion, her mask was flung off, but none of the others paid any mind.
Once they hopped onto the ramp of the construct she was led through a small metal hallway of sorts, and then through a hole and... into a luxurious room, at least, more luxurious than any she had ever seen, much less experienced.
"Make yourself comfortable." the Eternal Scar said to her as she finally let go of her arm. "I'll be back in a bit. Gotta do this debrief thing. You know, important stuff and all that." The words and the stumbling oddly unbefitting for a deity, but who is a mere mortal to judge?
And with that, she disappeared back into the hole, which closed shut with a slight hiss. A steel hatch of sorts. Ember gingerly set herself down on the nearest couch, relaxing just a bit even as the room and everything around began to gently shake. She noticed a nearby window, and that they're moving- faster than any horse, or even any bird of prey. Maybe a few feet above the grounds, though it's hard to gauge as the endless tall grass around where casually blown aside as they went.
Her mind was still in a cauldron of confusion and shock even as her body sunk into the nearest couch, the softness and warmth of the furniture felt... guilty. She knew she wasn't worthy of any of this, unless it's just a delusion to lure her into a moment of vulnerability before the trap is sprung. Or worse: that it's all real and true, which only means that the gods have made a mistake, and there's a world of pain once they find out.
She was snapped out of her fruitless thoughts as the hatch once again opened, and in came the Eternal Scar... as naked as she is.
