Why are you special?

I recognize this place. The same dark wood desk, the same leather chairs, the same oil lamps, the same bookshelves… and there’s Death, sitting down, his black clawed hands holding a book open. Oh, that must be handy: His fiery hair illuminates the page in front of him.

“Hello again, Death.”

He looks up from his book.

“Ah, my Champion. How’d you get in?”

“I’m… honestly not entirely sure. I just finished killing off a few bandits… well, one got away… and then I was here.”

Death considers, looking at me with those sucking voids he has where eyes should be, “Ah… I think I get it. Your game master used the fast XP track, I take it?”

“No… ruled in 3.5’s chart, because we always want to get to the goodies at higher levels quickly.”

“Well… this is the boon you chose. You get to level up now, and to do that…” he points at his bookshelves.

“Oh. Cool. I’ve been looking forward to second level. Oh, before I get too far into this… is remaining your Champion contingent upon worshiping you?”

Death chuckles, “You don’t worship me now. So no, it’s not. Traditionally a deity chooses a living, adult worshiper to designate as a Champion, but it’s not required. Which is good, as a random soul from another Fractal wouldn’t generally worship me off the bat.”

I grab three specific books as I continue to speak, “That’s good… will you be particularly offended if I worship myself?”

Death blinks at that, “Ah… run that by me again?”

I set down the book I’m looking at, and flip it around, “OK, see this ‘walking god’ template?”

“Yes… but it’s a template that applies to Mythic creatures. Most of those are well out of your reach right now. And it adds to the strength of the base creature… by a lot.”

“Most, not all. Here…” I point out the full stat block for the Mythic Skeleton, “This one is in reach.”

“OK, yes, that is a ‘challenge rating’ of one, but… with the template, that makes it four. You’ll be able to get it in two levels, but not now.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong…” I open up the third book, and show him the information on the “young” and “degenerate” templates, “Young has a note about it being legal as a smaller creature variant, and Degenerate can be applied to anything. In theory, both applied to a Walking god Mythic Skeleton would result in CR 2. Just barely in reach.”

Death considers, “OK, yes, that… is legal, but this is really not how these things are meant to be used.”

I shrug, “I’m a modern man. Well, woman now, I suppose. I look at the things available as resources for accomplishing my goals. What they were intended to do… well, they can be used in other ways, too. But it is legal if I do that?”

“Yes… what are you grabbing?”

“Well, I’m going to start with Powers of Faith, which then opens up…” I grab a fourth book, “... all this stuff. The particularly relevant bit…” I point him at the option for a high priest.

“OK, so… who are you planning to name? Nobody worships you, as far as I know.”

I smile, “Me.”

Death puts his fingers to his temples and starts rubbing them, seems his claws don’t scratch himself, “So… you’re going to grant yourself Mythic power one level lower than your own by worshiping yourself and naming yourself your high priest? Do the math, zero minus one isn’t anything useful.”

“Read more closely… I get the Powers of Faith of a tenth level mythic, not as my current amount.”

“So… nine ranks of … oh my. You’re going to have nine mythic ranks, at level two.”

“That’s the plan. Any holes in it?”

Death grits his teeth, “None that I can see. It’s just… that’s not… it shouldn’t…”

“But it does work, doesn’t it?”

“... yes. This is insane, you realize.”

“Oh yes. I’d never do this to an actual game master. Games are to have fun, and this would ruin much of the fun. But this isn’t a game, now is it? Sooner or later I’m going to be going up against Life’s champion - or at least agents thereof - and I’m going to need all the power I can get.”

Death slowly nods, “This is true… and Dad picked you. So… OK. That… works, I suppose.”

Now that I have confirmation that it should function in this Fractal, I start writing things down. I take Powers of Faith, Unearthly Grace, and Metal(Adamantine) directly, using the same trick with negative CR templates to get them from obscure creatures… and I also fully plan out my Mythic while I’m doing so. May as well save time.

Death watches over my shoulder as he works, and when I’m done, he looks at the numbers, and whistles, “So you’ll get AC 29, constantly, at 2nd level - well, as long as nobody dispels the Mage Armor - and be able to cast anything off your list … which covers all of the big lists, AND you get access to those spells from nearby Fractals. And your lowest save is at an eighteen. And… wow. I mean, you’re still level two, with just two hit dice, but you are going to be soaking hits way above your weight category. There’s probably a lot of tenth level folks that would lose to you one on one in a straight fight.”

“That’s the plan, and this just keeps getting better as I level. And I get spells ahead of schedule, too - and twice a round, and at will. But I’m still limited to 2nd level spells for now. How tough is Life’s Champion?”

“That one… I’m not permitted to answer, but it’s not due to Dad’s list specifically for you.”

“Ah… it’s like with Life not being able to give my description to her champion.”

“Exactly.”

“So how’s her newest crusade coming along?”

“That one, though…”

“Number six, then?”

“Indeed.”

“That’s fine, I can play this game… how did the last crusade go?”

“Remember when I used the example of red hair?”

“Yes.”

“That was on my mind because it’s how she got my last Champion. She ‘nudged’ her worshipers that they should be suspicious of anyone with red hair, she sent dreams to her priests to preach against red-haired folks, and talked to her Champion about starting a crusade. And… well, she has a lot of worshipers.”

“How many are we talking?”

“Fifty percent of this Fractal. Her followers outnumber the next deity down by a factor of two, although the second place person has stronger clerics and druids, so if they declared war… the winner wouldn’t be obvious.”

“And where do you rank in there?”

“I’m dead last, as I don’t encourage my own worship. It was never supposed to be a competition. Dad created each of us to fill a specific purpose within this Fractal. Worship is there to let us nudge certain social events along and course-correct if things …” he pauses, “And I need to stop there.”

Of course. “But you all use it to keep score anyway?”

“Oh yes. Even I track my rank. Anyway… they exterminated redheads.”

“Entirely?”

“Yes. Oh, there’s a few that crop up every now and again due to how inheritance works here, but… well, the various social structures she created are still in place. My sister isn’t actively pushing that one anymore, so I expect the cullings will end in a few more generations.”

I pause, “Why didn’t she make me a redhead? Seems like it would have saved time.”

“That’s because we can’t re-use curses or boons for twelve cycles.”

“When was the last time she had to change her boon for her champion?”

Death considers, “Huh, I can answer that one. Nearly a thousand years ago.”

Which means whoever currently holds that title is long-lived. “What restrictions are there on selecting a champion, exactly?”

Death shrugs, “Needs to have a soul. Needs to be in this Fractal. That’s… pretty much it.”

“So, say, an Angel, Fey queen, or Great Wyrm Gold Dragon would all fit?”

Death shakes his head, “Outsiders don’t have the required dual nature… the dragon would work, as would a fey … ah, you’re harvesting clues, aren’t you? Sorry, this path isn’t going to work well. Champions don’t age naturally, but unnatural aging still applies. The nearly a thousand years thing doesn’t rule out anything.”

“That’s not going to stop me from trying. You answer questions honestly as long as they’re not forbidden for one reason or another, so it’s pretty straightforward. So the age of the champion doesn’t tell me much… oh, here’s one: What curse did you apply to Life’s Champion?”

“Albinism. Which Life wrangled into being the mark of a true prophet. So folks with extra white skin and hair going into one of Life’s churches - by whatever name - is going to get extra attention, and as long as it holds past the tests, gets the run of the place, and all the resources there. Well, right up until the dreams hit, anyway.”

“I can use that… one more thing: What all am I dealing with on the ‘Wanton Wench’ package?”

Death shrugs, “It’s a set of things that’s intended to make… well, an insatiable woman who’ll get a lot of action.  Big chest, thin waist, a serious caboose, libido pushed up to the limits of ‘free will’ … if she’s trying what she said, she may have made a mistake with that one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… OK, so she mentioned she’s going after ‘the stupid lezbos’ this time, right?”

“Yes….”

“Well, a libido is derived from one of Dad’s oldest commands to people: ‘Be fruitful and multiply.’  It is, fundamentally, about breeding.  You may very well end up straight.”

… I’d rather not think about that just now.  "OK.  Well, I'm pretty sure I'm done."

“Be seeing you.”

And the office vanishes....