[No, And You Call Bamapana Out For His Rudeness.]

Raphael looks incredibly angry, and you're not that far behind, but you master yourself with an effort of will and prevent direct **** just yet.

"Bamapana, I advise you that if you want to keep your body in one piece you keep a civil tongue in your head. This sort of foul language is unbecoming someone of divine stature and such insults will not long be tolerated," You reply in censure, and Bamapana laughs.

"Might as well order back the tide mother-fucker, I can't help swearing all the Us-Damned time, it's part of my divine nature, savvy jackhole? Fuck it, whatever, I'll just keep my damned mouth shut and let Wallungunder do the fucking 'talking': dick..." Bamapana finishes in a mutter.

You turn to the deceptively small man in the silver jumpsuit and realize he has no mouth. Confused how he is going to 'do the talking' you suddenly realize there is a voice that isn't yours speaking in your head, and somehow you can't shut it out.

}I apologize for Bamapana, it is also his nature to sow discord and strife, but he mostly means well.{ The voice begins, somehow ethereal and eldritch, like the solar wind pushing a vast skyship out into the dark reaches of space.

}I am called Wallungunder, leader of the Wandjina, and god of creation. We know about the Soul Form you have taken from this place. It contains the energy of a god from another pantheon, Quetzalcoatl: the feathered serpent. If you use it to create a race of mortal worshipers you will be committing deicide,{ Wallungunder explains.

}We are willing to assist you in releasing Quetzalcoatl, and even offer you a bargain in exchange for his safe release: the service of Bagadjimbiri for a year-and-a-day, as well as securing a promise of aid from the feathered serpent when his release is achieved; What say you to this bargain?{ Wallungunder asks...