Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu (Daniel Steven Reinker)
Subject: [blade] Meshtak makes peace with his Gods, II
Message-ID: <1993May8.205301.24364@cheshire.oxy.edu>
Date: Sat, 8 May 1993 20:53:01 GMT

Meshtak was helping the priests of Joyla care for the refuges, and
gradually they began to accept him despite his furry form. Then he
noticed Chip enter. Chip held forth a weapon, and Meshtak's heart
leaped for a moment, thinking it was his shift sword. But a closer
examination revealed it to be some other blade.
    As he worked, his eyes kept drifting to the line of requesters.
Finally, he sighed, and entered into line. He didn't really know
what he would request; he was fairly sure he would be ignored anyway.
By abandoning Antakantus, he had pretty much lost any chances with
Joyla, the God's human equivalent. Grot, for all he knew, they
were the same God. Meshtak was ignorant on the subject of Gods.
    He waited awhile, and finally, it came to be his turn to enter
the requesting circle. The priests closed the curtain around him, and
a magical light appeared above him. It was supposed to be representative
of the light of Joyla, that little Meshtak knew.
    but otherwise, Meshtak was ignorant of the ways of the Gods. He didn't
know what to do, whether he should kneel or not. Finally he did so, 
dropping uncertainly to the ground.
    Now, what would he request? Well, if Joyla was truly related to
Antakantus, he knew one thing he could ask Her. "Joyla All-Bringer...
I am Meshtakalanamus Slayer-of-the-First-Numpka. I...well, if you
can find Antakantus, or whether you are the same...I would like
knowledge of my tribe. Do they still survive in Drotshava?"
    Moments passed. Meshtak didn't even really expect an answer. When
the light changed, becoming slightly dimmer, he thought it a trick
of the priests. But then a voice spoke to him. "Joyla is not your
Goddess, draga. Neither is Antakantus."
    Meshtak considered if it was a trick of the priests. "It is not
a trick, Meshtak." the voice spoke again, startling him. "I know thee
as I created thee. You are mine alone, Meshtak. While all the Gods
are to choose a champion, I have chosen thee."
    "Champion...of who?" Meshtak said. "What creature ARE you?"
    "Not a creature. A God. You may call me Wyrminkamanus Seeker-of-
Wnknown-Truth, for that is my name to dragas. I am God of the strong-
weak. When Demiatt slew the great Krovon, I was there. When Tyrygia
withstood the invasion of the Demons of Vool, I was there. When a
badger brings down a bear, I am there. You, Meshtak, are my champion."
     "And how do I serve you?" asked Meshtak, still stunned.
     "You merely do, Meshtak. Your tribe fares well, thus have I
answered your question. Now continue on your mission; I shall
try and withhold the Freezing which often suspends you."
     "What Freezing? What is my mission? What am I supposed to do?"
Meshtak asked. But he received to answer, and he felt an aloneness.
He WAS alone. The God had left him.
     As he stumbled from the requesting booth, he noticed a stretch
of vine twined around his leg. He took hold of the vine, and felt
a familiar shifting in it. With a thought, he turned it back
into his shiftsword. Then back to a vine, then back to a sword.
The first non-weapon shifting I've seen it do, Meshtak mused.
The work of Wyrminkamanus? Meshtak shook his head, still unsure
of his strange experience with the God. Meshtak didn't really
follow any Gods anymore, much less was he the champion of one.
So he believed.

Meshtak the Draga


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