Magic Murder Cube Marine

Corporal Francis Francis Francis the third, god of monogamy and former Marine, took up a position on the platform at the far side of his temple. While the other gods made do with smaller venues, his temple could easily hold thousands. The picnic tables and buffet cut down on available seating though.

Francis threw a wide net when it came to his divine portfolio. Officially, he was associated with chow, dogs, dip, fidelity, grunts, horses, loyalty, monogamy, kicking the shit out of people who need it, and fighting for your friends. Those last two, along with making Grunt the official language of Brexis, had made him very popular with any warriors that might wander through his domain. The other ones didn’t hurt either.

His followers were a diverse lot. The Marine had something for everyone, more or less. The ladies and men of reasonably priced virtue had been wary of setting up shop in a city ruled by the god of monogamy. But they didn’t have anything to worry about from Francis. He had spent his entire adult life in the military before getting isekaied and becoming the Murder Cube’s champion. As long as they ran a clean shop and treated their workers right, he was happy to let the brothels operate within Brexis. (This was another reason the fighting folk loved his city, but it still wasn’t as popular as the food carts.)

The Immortal Revenant Service and Locke, the former god running it, had been a boon to Francis when it came to administering his new city. The amount of progress that had been made towards reviving Brexis should have been impossible in such a short timeframe. By all rights, it should have been a glorified refugee camp. Instead, it was a slowly waking giant of commerce and industry.

Francis had his own theories as to why things had gone so easily. Part of that was the city itself. Brexis hadn’t so much died, as been mothballed for later use. The original inhabitants (and some of the current ones) were dead, but the things they built lingered behind like monuments. Colossal shipyards and foundries lay dormant, skeletal minions patiently waiting inside for someone to come along and put them to work.

Brexis also required very little oversight or overhead to keep running. Unlike most planned cities, this one actually worked. It had been built from the ground up using magic and undead labor, making it more of a mechanical computer than a city. Jack had voiced some concerns about why and how that had come to be, but it seemed benign in nature. So far the city was working fine, though Francis dreaded the day that they would need to make repairs.

Trade, and proximity to the Silver River shipping routes, were some of the other reasons why the city was doing well. But what had really clinched it though, was the battle with Hades. Nobody had expected Francis to win, and while he hadn’t fought alone, the Marine had still managed to come out on top. The politics of it were complicated, but Hades turning tail to run had done more for Francis’ credibility than killing the rival god ever could.

It was one thing to slug it out, the winner standing nearly dead on their feet. Fights could be determined by luck, or trickery. But to beat an opponent so badly that they gave up and hid, that was something else entirely. To steal one of their champions in the process as well was almost unheard of.

Most other gods hadn’t taken the Memetic Pantheon or Francis seriously before their battle with Hades. They had dismissed the mismatched legion of divine jokes and misfits as unimportant. They had laughed at them. But nobody was laughing now. The meme gods had curb stomped the most powerful member of a rival pantheon into the ground. And with the backing of Francis and his new city, they were poised to become a major power in Vahnis.

Francis looked out over the people assembled to worship him. Most had come for the free food, or something to do. Many were curious about what type of god he was, and how he would lead his flock. There had been some temptation to phone it in, give some half-assed speech about the wonders of monogamy, and go home. That was what the other gods did, if they even bothered to show up.

Most divine beings had adopted the mall santa method of interacting with their followers. They took credit for miracles that were not their doing and hired actors to visit temples in their stead. Francis had decided to take a much more hands-on approach. It wasn’t particularly divine, or regal, but it was honest to who and what he was.

The Marine snapped his fingers, summoning a flat brimmed olive drab hat. Francis put it on and grinned. It was time to get to work.

***

Willow watched from her seat as Francis prepared to address his followers. Some gods liked long speeches, others preferred short ones. Many divine beings talked about the values they held (when they could be bothered to show up at all). But none of them did it quite like Francis.

“Listen up!” he called out, pacing up and down the stage like the drill instructors that had hammered him into shape when he first joined the Marines, “My name’s Francis! I’m the god of this here temple! I hope you enjoyed the food and drinks, because you’re about to earn them!”

The followers watched as dozens of clerics streamed into the temple, taking up positions along the periphery. The clerics snapped in unison, summoning flat brimmed hats of their own. They were wearing dark green robes, sunglasses, boots that looked purpose built for ass-kicking, and scowls.

Francis continued his speech. “In ten minutes each and every one of you will go out and serve, to the best of your ability! I didn’t want to give you the chance to sneak out the door, but Willow here thought you deserved the chance to finish your food! You should all be thankful to her for that!”

The Marine’s voice didn’t just boom as he spoke, it shook his followers down to their very souls. This was divinity, this was authority, and it could not be denied. “Brexis needs you, and you will serve it in my name! I am not the god of purity, but you will clean! I am not the god of plenty, but you will feed the hungry! Every single one of you will do as you are directed, to the extent of your ability, or I will strike you down with furious anger!”

He didn’t think any of them had seen Pulp Fiction, but the words seemed to get his point across. “This city has seen dark times! This city has seen death! But you will resurrect it! You will heal it! Now, High Priestess Willow will lead us in a brief prayer.”

The Death Cleric stood up and walked onto the stage as Francis stepped aside. She was fluent in Grunt now and was going to make the most of it.

“Please repeat after me,” Willow said as she bowed her head, “The only easy day was yesterday. Though I walk through the valley of death, I have no fear because I am the biggest, baddest, motherfucker in the valley…”