Magic Murder Cube Marine

The many temples of Brexis were diverse in their architecture and adornment. Francis’ decision to cram them all together on one street led to what he called a “mardi gras” atmosphere.

Representatives of the various religions stood outside their temples like carnival barkers, trying to lure worshippers in with promises of eternal life and meaning. The clerics in front of Francis’ temple were much more successful, they offered free barbecue.

The smell was deafening compared to the shouts of the other clerics. Salvation and balance were good, but ribs were better. A representative of Herbivus, the bovine god of veganism, had trotted into the temple to complain. But nobody had seen him come out.

One of Francis’ more enterprising clerics had taken to antagonizing Shelivus, god of seafolk, in hopes of a repeat. When Willow heard about that she went and smoothed things over, but not before wrangling an agreement to provide fresh seafood for their weekly cookout.

The temples of the other gods were roughly all the same size, fitting a few hundred of the faithful at once. There had been some complaints from the other gods about seniority and respecting power. One such complainer was sitting in a pop-up tent on the sidewalk, his temple having been closed for “renovations”.

“Come serve the great lord Typhon! He probably won't devour you!” called out a High Priest with a miserable look on his face. Adding insult to injury was the fluorescent yellow sash they made him wear for safety. It matched the tent, making it look like some sort of public service booth.

Aru’s hopes were continually crushed as potential followers came to visit his tent, only to ask for directions to other temples or the bathrooms. “This is ridiculous,” fumed the High Priest. It was almost sunset and his whole day had been wasted.

Typhon finished giving directions to an elderly couple and gave his servant a stern look. “Ssssuck it up, buttercup. It wasss your bright idea to insssult Willow,” the serpentine god lisped before going back to devouring his bowl of Pad Thai.

When Typhon was done he took off his safety sash and slithered off to find more food. He and his wife Echidna approved of what Francis had done with Brexis. The food stalls alone were enough to gain his favor, the rest was just icing on the cake.

He had seen new gods try to create multi-faith cities before. It always ended in disaster as the idealistic young deities saw their good intentions repurposed as paving stones. But this felt different.

Like a good steak, there was a marbling of fat and meat to Francis’ approach. Behind the facade of arbitrary rules and decisions hid a deeper plan. It would have been easy to dismiss this as all High Priestess Willow’s doing. She had been around long enough to create a reputation for herself, unlike Francis.

The Death Cleric’s goal of creating a utopia built on Necromancy was no secret. She had served, and killed, many gods while chasing that dream. Brexis looked to be her chance to finally see it through.

Unlike the other gods who couldn't see past the obvious, Typhon was happily married. He knew a solid relationship dynamic when he saw it. Francis played the big dumb brute when it served his purposes, letting Willow get the credit for Brexis’ revival. That left the Marine free to do outrageous things, like serve grilled meat before a service.

Typhon grew a pair of arms and grabbed a plate. His form was fluid, ranging from a man with the lower half of a snake to full on serpent. Right now he was a human sized snake with two arms sticking out where his shoulders would be.

“AHHH!” screamed a man named Zithis as he saw the creature sitting down next to him at the table, “A GIANT SNAKE!”

“Oh no,” replied Typhon as he set down his plate, “A huge racissst!”

Zithis tried to regain his composure, but failed. “What kind of temple lets snake people join?”

A hand the size of a dinner plate came down to rest on his shoulder. He turned around to see a two meter tall Marine wearing a Hawaiian shirt and pink booty shorts. Standing next to him was a tall woman with black horns.

“My temple,” Francis said, “I wanted it to be the kind of place where people from all walks of life can come in, get a hot meal, shoot the breeze, and get a little worship done. Do you have a problem with that?”

The man started to visibly shake with fear. “No, Sir.”

The Marine scowled and took the plate from his trembling hands. “Don't call me ‘sir’, I work for a living. Now, drop and give me twenty perfect push-ups.”

There are many things the man could have said. The smartest course of action would be to shut up and knock out the pushups as Francis had requested. Unfortunately, Zithis was so flustered that all he could do was stand there, frozen in place.

The Marine shook his head. “Are your ears just for show? Or did your mother need something to haul you around by and your dick was too short?”

“Sir?”

“That's it!” Francis roared as he summoned the magic staff that served as both his primary weapon and badge of office. “Relativity, see that this man does his pushups while I get this show on the road. There's no reason why they should have to wait because some dumbass can't follow simple directions.”

Zithis looked in terror as the dreaded Staff of Moral Relativity floated in front of him. The evil artifact seemed to be undergoing a process of metamorphosis. The black outer coating had begun flaking off the withered hand that topped the staff, revealing milky white flesh beneath.

Relativity snapped its fingers, summoning its own symbol of authority. Zithis was now confronted with a magical artifact wearing a small olive drab hat. The flat brimmed campaign cover, also known as a “Smokey the Bear” hat, floated a few centimeters above Relativity’s knuckles. The staff leaned forward, getting right in Zithis’ face.

Typhon watched as the man got down on the ground and started knocking out pushups. He felt a hiss of laughter escape his lips, drawing Relativity's attention.

The staff floated over to Typhon and pointed down at the ground. Somehow the absurd hat only added to its natural menace.

“Ah, fuck,” Typhon said as he realized what was happening and got onto the floor next to Zithis, “This is some bullssshit.”