Ribbontail: Enter Emalia
Chapter 35: Woes of a God

Author's Note: Please read my artist's comments before continuing. :3
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Eclipse’s bedchamber was, in all actuality, the attic of his resident chapel. The room contrasted the church shockingly. It was small and relatively modest compared to the immense and triumphant cathedral. Like the rest of the building, it bore gorgeous wooden walls and was accented with warm red light- all thanks to the many lit candles that dotted the room. It was a cozy one, this chamber. It was where the god spent most of his relaxing hours.

Looking quite contented with himself, Eclipse lay idly on his soft bed. He was dressed in his long white bed garment. Across from him, mounted on the wall next to the door, hung a widescreen television. Channels flipped aimlessly as the god lay, remote in paw, searching for something to watch.

Selecting a channel could be so hard sometimes.

This was because the mortal Eclipsians were such fickle beings. They busied themselves with stocks, sports, news, dramas, theatre and debates all. But once Eclipse ran across a station televising children’s cartoons, the god stopped flipping and smiled. He enjoyed cartoons very much. They were inventive. They were fantastical. They fueled his strange imagination, feeding him ideas and concepts. He could use such things to create his own Eclipsian- a beast he could someday send to Emalia to fight his foes.

A knock at the door interrupted Eclipse’s wandering mind. “Do come in, Ptaharamnan,” he beckoned, knowing all too well who it was.

In stepped the elephant Ptaharamnan, Eclipse’s constant servant. He shuffled to a quick stop as he saw the many candles that littered the floor. Eclipse was surely agile enough to step around the little flames, but a large elephant like him could approach no further.

“My Lord,” he called with a deep bow, “I bring a message to you from the Greater mercenary, OmenBeast. He claims to have been lingering on the-”

With a quick wave of his paw, Eclipse silenced his servant. He then gestured to the television screen. On it was a colorful cartoon depicting an elephant and a raccoon playing with a ball. “Look at this, friend. That elephant sucked up the ball through his nose, like a vacuum. His friend is quite perturbed. Tell me, can you do such a thing with your nose?”

“No Lord. I cannot.”

Eclipse purred delightfully to himself. “It would be quite an interesting thing to see. Now tell me, what was it that you wanted?”

Straightening up, Ptaharamnan brought his staff down upon the floor. “I bring a message to you from OmenBeast. He has been lingering within the River of Life for over a month, he says. Just now he showed up in the temple, and he wishes to speak with you.”

A tired sigh escaped Eclipse as he clicked off his television. “A month!” he repeated, “That’s quite a while to skulk about in the River. Why wait so long before speaking with me?”

Silently Ptaharamnan stepped to the side, as Eclipse rolled from his bed and came padding across the room. The godly cat didn’t even bother to change from his bed dresses. Brushing by his attendant in a flourish of white linen, Eclipse murmured, “Part of me wishes that this time OmenBeast will choose to stay dead.”

Down the stairwell Eclipse prowled. When he arrived on the temple floor he rubbed his eyes tiredly, then waved his paw up. In a glimmer of light his golden aureole flashed into view, hovering proudly behind his head; it was truly the indication of his divine power.

The citadel was expectedly still, the pews empty and the hall saturated with warm, amber light. Eclipse was filled with a sense of self-satisfaction and adoration as he made his way to the altar. But when he saw the massive, shadowed figure bowed before it, his pleasantness was snuffed out by disgust.

A snarl creased across his face. He despised OmenBeast.

This soldier was a fine one: fierce, fearless, and brutal just as an Eclipsian should be, and thus he was a treasured keep. Yet he was mindless, a follower too dull to know how to worship. He didn’t even know how to show affection, something Eclipse valued just as much.

Worship or love- OmenBeast could do neither.

The hulking Eclipsian was sitting on the floor of the citadel, like a dog waiting for his master. When at last Eclipse arrived he whirled, grabbed the brute’s whiskers, and tugged that bald head down so that OmenBeast was in a proper bow.

“Show some respect, if you will,” the god hissed.

OmenBeast let out a short grumbling noise and pressed his snout to the floor, those bulging shoulders quivering as he knelt before his master. By this time Ptaharamnan had shown up, waving his long trunk at the beast. “Death by venom, if you recall. A little over a month ago he got in a fight with an Emalian named Kerberos. He won the duel, but Kerber-”

“I remember,” Eclipse cut him off, folding his paws into this flowing nightgown. There was a pause that left the temple humming with silence, with no sound but the gruff breathing of OmenBeast. Then Eclipse spoke again. “So tell me, OmenBeast my friend, why are you here this morning? Have you forgotten what I requested you to do?”

With a soft groan OmenBeast lifted his head, his teeth bared with a defiant snarl. Ptaharamnan was quick to club him across the nose with his staff.

“I commanded you to slay the newly-god named Ribbontail, did I not? What went wrong?” Eclipse continued, looking down at his warrior.

“She called the aid of a mortal,” OmenBeast’s thought-voice droned, “The whelp had it fight me in her absence, and she ran while I was distracted. I killed the Emalian but SHE got away... I was too weak to follow her.”

Eclipse nudged the massive Eclipsian’s nose with the tip of his paw. Each of the beast’s teeth were easily the size of his paw, but the feline felt quite unimpressed now. With a sigh Eclipse turned OmenBeast’s head with his footpaw.

“I remember this as well,” the god said vacantly, “I think it’s absurd. Ribbontail has been in this world for no more than three months now, and she has slain two of my Greater Eclipsians. How can a helpless little child be so cunning?”

“It is a tragedy,” Ptaharamnan agreed, trying his best to be of aid, “Ribbontail and Fidei both seem to be doing well, even considering how new they are to the mortal world. They each seem to have a... guiding light of some sort...”

Disdainfully, Eclipse snorted. The god knew all too well how cared for the second-generation gods were. The adult Emalian deities would never let their young roam so helpless in the mortal realm.

Flicking his long black ears, Eclipse turned to his faithful attendant. Then he commanded, “In that case, we keep the messenger Sendings in Emalia. Make sure that they do their job. I want all of my children to be aware of the presence of those two. Understood?”

“Understood, Lord.” Ptaharamnan bowed to his god.

Eclipse turned back down to the Eclipsian still prostrated before him. Smoothing his long white nightgown, Eclipse let out a sigh. “As for you, old friend, where would you like to go? Shall I return you to Emalian soil, or will I have your soul tossed into the River?”

For a second the god tensed, hoping then that OmenBeast would finally choose to pass on. The creature had died twice before in his merciless ways, and Eclipse felt as though he was growing too rash for his own good. Ever since he was promoted to a Greater Eclipsian, OmenBeast thought of himself as immortal.

Then OmenBeast lifted his snout, his broad back rising and falling as he breathed deeply. His mindspeak bellowed, “Send me back to Emalia. I will slay Ribbontail!”

The god of Eclipsians turned away slowly, pitching his head up so that his gaze fell upon the stained glass Jakarta at the head of his temple. Eclipse breathed in, hiding  his disappointment. “Very well,” he decided, “But I am not sending you back in the sorry state you are in. Can you do anything but throw your weight around? You need something more, some new power.”

In unison Ptaharamnan and OmenBeast looked up. They both knew what their god meant by this.

It was common knowledge among Eclipsians that Eclipse himself had the power to mend- and take apart- his own minions, giving and taking traits and powers as he pleased. Even in his weakness Eclipse was apt at this. The exclusive Greater Eclipsians, those who returned to him upon death, were the only ones he would bother with. And normally he would improve them by giving more powers, greater strength, and sometimes even redoing them as a whole.

OmenBeast slowly began to smile.

“What will you give me?” The beast was struck across the snout with Ptaharamnan’s cane. He then added a courteous, “-my Lord?”

With a sleek, elegant movement Eclipse turned and paced before his two underlings. He seemed to totally forget that they were there. Eclipse’s ice blue eyes roved the amber-lit walls, from the graceful architecture to beautiful stained glass windows. The vacant choir platform and altar to his left, row upon row of empty benches to his right...

“I wonder what this week’s sermon will be about?” he mused to himself in a most distracted manner. He was careful to keep his voice quiet enough for only himself to hear.

Then the god shook his head and waved a paw to OmenBeast. All along he had been devising a power for this fighter of his. Something just as dreadful, terrifying, and horrendous as the beast itself. With an expert flick, a hovering disc of light appeared in the palm of his paw- a physical manifestation of magic energy.

“Here,” he muttered, “A special little power made just for you.”

Soft lights blinked as Eclipse released the energy, letting it flow into the beast’s being. OmenBeast’s fur bristled as he felt the magic seep into his bones. Raw, fierce magic it was, permeating his every fiber. Rising wearily up onto his paws, OmenBeast shuddered and stared down at his master.

“What sort of power is it?” he asked slowly.

“You’ll find out when you return to Emalia.”

“Will it be of good use?”

“That and much more. You may thank me by doing your job correctly.”

Presently there fell an air of intensity as Eclipse and OmenBeast stared at one another.

Eclipse’s next words came flat.  “You may go now. Take down Ribbontail, Fidei if you can find him, and any of their allies as well. Do it properly and you’ll be well rewarded.”

Letting out a great, triumphant roar, OmenBeast turned slowly and vanished in mid-step, like a ghost fading into nonexistence. He was gone that quickly, back into life in the far, far away Emalia.

Ptaharamnan and Eclipse stood silent for a while. Like echoes from the past, OmenBeast’s departing howl reverberated around the chapel, until finally there was nothing but silence. The sound alone reminded them both of what a fearsome killer OmenBeast could be. If only he were more loyal. More dedicated. He was a fine fighter, albeit dull and disrespectful, and it befuddled Eclipse as to how he could have failed so easily.

There was no excuse for the insolence of modern day Eclipsian raiders, especially among the highly-praised Greater ones. Three thousand years ago Eclipsian raiders were proud beasts. They ruled the skies, dominated the seas, ravaged the lands, following Eclipse into battle against the Emalian gods. Those were proud times.

Now they seemed no different from the residents of his own Badlands- helpless, defenseless, frail mortals killed as easily as a butterfly.

Eclipse’s latent anger was overcome with a feeling of  sudden grief.

“Is it me, or are my children growing weak? No matter how I fabricate them they always fail me. Sometimes I miss the old days,” he sighed to his attendant, “when I could slay my foes on my own...”

He flexed his talons in and out.

“...instead of having my own people do it. I should be out there, taking down those two god-children myself. Now I cannot even leave my own temple...”

Again those little claws flexed. He let his shimmering aureole fade.

Ptaharamnan, always quick to offer praise to his god, placed a giant wrinkled hand upon Eclipse’s shoulder. He whispered, “You must rest, Lord. I apologize. Remember that you are still recovering from the War.”

“Which was thousands of years ago!” Eclipse turned to his companion, fixing the elephant with unhappy blue eyes. “My powers should have returned by now. How long does it take a god to regain his energy?!”

“Great One,” the answer was calm and assuring, “you destroyed three other gods, created millions of creatures with a single sweep, and were even then recovering from your past trials. You did more in that single battle than most other gods do in a century.”

Unsure, Eclipse let his long black ears droop down even further, and he sorrowfully brushed his golden hair from his eyes.

“Give it more time. I am positive that soon you will be back to your old self,” Ptaharamnan continued, “Then you can go and fix all of this yourself. If Ribbontail and Fidei are still alive then, you can teach those two how a REAL god works.”

There was a momentary pause. Then Eclipse let out a  despairing sigh, whipping past his attendant to go padding back to the nearby stairwell. Ptaharamnan stood there by the altar, watching as his god ascended to his room...

“To watch more television, I suppose,” the elephant thought with a strained smile, “If his powers don’t return soon I fear that our god may soon forget just HOW a real god works.”