Aftermath

John’s mind was a whirl of questions, but he opted to start with the most urgent. “What was that other place? And those things I fought?”

The idol sighed and leaned back, waving a hand in idle circles in the air. “Mooks, kid. Undead mooks. Technically, they’re called ghouls - they’re mean ones, but ya got them alright. As to what the place was - ya got a Skill for it, didn’t ya? That was a Barrier. Think of them like… bubbles in a glass of champagne. Little pockets cut off from the rest of the world, for guys like you and me to do our weird stuff in. Keeps the Abyss away from the mundane, on account of the boss gettin’ real mad when regular folks see stuff they shouldn’t. Things go pretty sideways fast for anyone that waves their magic wand in front of regular folk, in a ‘cement-shoes and the nearest lake’ kinda way.”

Swallowing hard, John glanced at his door. “My mother…” he began, before Malal brushed him off.

“Forget about it, kid. I might be pretty weak, but I can still sense any human - even a mundane one - well before she gets anywhere near hearing us. If I suddenly go all plastic on ya, that’s the signal for ya to clam up tighter than a bank vault, alright?”

Satisfied by a nod from John, Malal continued, “So, ya go into or out of a Barrier to deal with whatever ya need to deal with. Some of ‘em form naturally, some like the one ya made are artificial, and what’s inside either is a real lucky dip. Usually, at any rate. Anyhow, ya popped into a Barrier and chucked me a prayer, so here I am. Malal, god of order. I took over this idol so I could talk to ya a bit more natural than sending godly text messages into your brain. No offense to the boss, but it’s not my style to be doin’ that all the time, capiche?”

John tapped his fingers on the desk. “An actual god. Talking to me from a model chaplain. That’s… It’s a lot to take in, even with all the weirdness that’s been happening to me today. Also, I’m not sure I count as a worshiper. I mean, okay, I really liked the backstory you had going before it all got retconned out of existence, but worship?”

The figure gave a plastic-sounding chuckle. “Kid, ya don’t get it. Ya believe in me - at least, when ya think of the concepts of gods and order at the same time, it’s me rather than some fancy greek dude in a toga you’re picturing. That’s the minimum for worship; I ain’t saying I’d complain if ya want to build me a fancy shrine, all gold and marble and all - but that ain’t necessary for Faith to work. Just gotta think about things, and stuff happens. ‘Course, Abyssals like you having Faith is a lot stronger than normal folk, but the same thing applies to them too. I got about ten, maybe twenty thousand normal followers, barely enough to power a few tricks like this possession or a blessing like the one I gave ya to deal with those undead. And I got me one Abyssal follower. You.”

The idea that he was some kind of cosmic battery for his new ally was slightly concerning to John, but he did his best to swallow any fears of being locked up and drained for religious-juice and nodded. Mostly to himself rather than the god, who was busy inspecting the paintwork on his gauntlets as John muttered another question, “Alright, so what next?”. Seeing Malal look up, John followed up by asking, “You said knowledge is power, and called me an Abyssal. I’m going to guess that’s a term for people like me who can see the Abyss; do they all have… all this?” He waved a hand at his Status screen as he said it, worry growing that one or more of the weird folk he’d scanned during the day might have scanned him in return.

To John’s relief, Malal shook his head. “Not to my knowledge. I mean, I’m not a real power like the boss, but as far as I can tell, ya got a unique thing going there, kid. The boss must really like ya to give ya the bespoke treatment.”

John sighed. Of course he would be in contact with a god, but not a god that could tell him what was up with the weird Quests and Statuses and things, that would be too easy. Looking back down at Malal, he asked a question that had been building since the start of their conversation, “You keep mentioning the boss, but you’re a god, right? Who’s the boss for a god?”

The figure shifted uneasily, and looked about to reply when there was a soft chime and a pop-up appeared.

“Yea, that’d be the boss alright, her sense of humor entirely. Big G, the Green Lady, Madame Gaia, whatever ya wanna call her. Supreme ruler of everything. She manages the chaos we call the Abyss without breakin’ a sweat. Kid, I’ve seen some pretty horrid mooks in my time, all teeth and fangs and too many eyeballs, but that little lady? She terrifies me.” Malal’s voice was sincere, the note of fear in the tiny plastic voice apparent even to John’s inept ability to read social cues.

As John pondered what other questions to ask of the god - or gods, apparently, if Gaia was also listening in - he glanced at the clock and yawned. It had gone ten; still a couple of hours until he got his Quest Rewards. Looking back down, he raised the only other really relevant question he could think of, given he was looking at the embodiment of a chaos god in particular. “So… are the other gods real too?”

Malal frowned at that and nodded, understanding John’s meaning. “Yea, kid. Though… the thing about gods ya gotta understand is that we’re just big pools of energy. Little pools of energy, well, they become things like those undead schmucks. But big pools in one area, all with the same kinda style? That’s what we’re formed of. Aside from the boss, of course, she’s special. But yea, that energy. Gets formed into a lotta different gods, and gods shift over time too, depending on how people worship them.”

John frowned. “Like how most people depict Jesus as a blonde white guy?” he suggested, at which Malal shrugged before continuing his explanation.

“Yea, that kinda thing. Well, ya get a bunch of energy all pooled up, and then badda-bing, badda-boom, ya got yourself a god. If people start picturing them differently, sometimes they change, sometimes other gods get formed. And then ya got ya worshipers - the more of them ya got all organised, the more there’s one clear picture of you as a god for people’s energy to hang onto, and that's how ya get a recognizable god at the end of it.”

The figure glanced up at the ceiling before continuing, “So, it’s like this, kid. I got one major worshiper - you, and that’s changing how I act, cos Abyssal worshipers count extra when it comes to shapin’ us. Like, I’m pretty sure my whole deal was dreamed up by some British nerds originally, and now I’m talkin’ like Joe Pesci over here. That’s worship for ya. So, when ya asked me about the others - I can tell ya that right now there’s a fair amount of energy for them, but a bunch of it is goin’ elsewhere. Old Cornflakes has about a dozen other angry boys taking from the energy that could be his, and as for Leshy… See, most of the others are weak as hell and twice as disorganized. Only one I know of for sure that’s got his shit together is the rat, and that’s only ‘cos he managed to convince actual ratmen to start worshiping him too as far as I can tell.”

John breathed a sigh of relief. His life was weird enough for now without having to worry about the god of disease possessing the used tissues in his waste paper basket while he slept or something. “Right,” he said at last, glancing once more at the clock. “I need sleep. Do you… I dunno, have an off switch for the idol possession? And if so, how do I call you back? We should probably talk some more, but it’s late and I fought two undead monsters to the **** today. I’m exhausted and not thinking clearly.”

Malal shrugged, lifting his crozius back into roughly its original position. “Just say a prayer, kid. I’d prefer an offering, but unless ya fancy splashing on some good bourbon, I’ll settle for words for now.” The figure seemed to shimmer for a second, and when John experimentally prodded the model, it toppled over, making it clear that the god was gone.