Magic Murder Cube Marine

On the way back to town the next morning Willow rode Chuck while Francis walked alongside them. Occasionally he stopped to complete a quest by vaporizing something in the distance.

Congratulations! You have successfully defeated Bloodbeak, the Honkdra. Visit the local Adventure Guild to collect your bounty.

Congratulations! You have successfully defeated Gunter, the Dire Trout. Visit the local Adventure Guild to collect your bounty.

Congratulations! You have successfully defeated the twelve Dire Mosquitos of Misery. Visit the local Adventure Guild to collect your bounty.

Congratulations! You have successfully defeated Snivelok, the Dire Slug. Visit the local Adventure Guild to collect your bounty.

Francis was dressed in Zed’s Robes of Casual Evil, which got more comfortable the longer he wore them, and the Sandals of Good Intentions. He topped off the ensemble with Zed’s Hat of Casual Evil, A Pendant of Poison Denial, and in his hand was the dreaded Staff of Moral Relativity.

Pendant of Poison Denial (Immunity to Poison)

Sandals of Good Intentions (+2 Sway)

Staff of Moral Relativity (+2 Arcane +1 Sway +1 Necromancy)

Zed's Robes of Casual Evil (+2 Deflection +1 Necromancy)

Zed's Hat of Casual Evil (+1 Deflection +2 Necromancy)

The staff was a real treasure. Normally Relativity wouldn't bond with anyone besides an evil wizard. But the sentient magical item took one look at Francis’ resume and decided to make an exception. Relativity brimmed with vile intent and was the perfect counterbalance to his growing sense of oneness with the universe.

Francis didn't need to think of tanks and chainsaws to ground himself anymore. Whenever he felt himself becoming one with all things, the staff quietly reminded him that it didn't matter. Everything was going to die anyway.

He was also beginning to understand a bit more about how magic worked. His massive twelve in Arcane was giving him a Grunt version of the beginners tutorial.

Spells were a caster’s intent made real by mana and math. Math was tricky and so was magic. It was better to have a cheat sheet. Spells were like cheat sheets that could be memorized.

Sometimes magic items came with spells etched onto them. Relativity had a few and wasted no time sharing them with Francis. There was a reason wizards referred to Relativity as “The Staff of The Insta-Lich”. (Just add evil!)

It gave him the spells: Hint of Rot, Decay, Dominate, Life Drain, Telepathy, Teleport, Slow, Mind Wipe, Gaslight, Raise Undead, Rewrite Undead, 10x100 freeze and 10x100 Inferno.

10x100 inferno summoned 10 cubic meters of fire and hit anything inside the flames with 100 heat damage. Mana cost was 1000 + Distance. 10x100 freeze did the same thing but froze everything instead and extinguished open flames.

Francis' Care Bear stare of destruction was effective against creatures. That was why all mages knew it by default. But it did almost nothing to objects and couldn't be used as an area of effect spell. He had needed to target the Dire Mosquitos individually instead of taking out the swarm in one go. He also found that he could only target up to seven creatures at a time. (It was equal to his Tier.)

If he wanted versatility, Francis would need to expand his arsenal. Relativity’s spells would help with that. The magical staff was definitely intelligent. But if it could talk, it wasn't letting on.

Not that it needed to talk. Relativity was good at explaining its feelings by giving off vibes. It shared that in common with its current owner.

So far Francis had identified the following feelings: Affirmative, Negative, Unsure, Like, Dislike, Helpful, Unhelpful, Attentive, Bored, Curious, Nihilistic, Murderous, and Everything Dies Anyway.

Willow watched Francis play with his new toy. She would have killed for a staff like that. Too bad she was a Death Cleric not a Wizard. Besides, that thing would have turned her mind inside out the second she tried to bond with it.

She looked over at her new patron deity. Francis was using the blackened hand on top of Relativity to scratch his back.

As gods went, Francis didn't seem like a bad one to serve. He didn't mind doing most of the smiting and listened when she spoke, which was rare. Most gods were terrible listeners.

Francis was incredibly powerful. But he didn't seem to know much about the world. She figured he had either ascended due to divine nepotism or been isekaied. Either way it was clear he would need her help.

It was nice to get in at the ground level of a cult for once. Willow the High Priestess of the Cult of Francis Francis Francis patted Chuck the Treasurer on his shoulder.

Big gods were fine. But small tightly knit cults held a special place in Willow's heart. Knowing the smith who forged the ceremonial daggers was important. Or the old lady with too many cats who greeted sacrifices. They were what made a cult feel like family.

Unfortunately, there was one problem that immediately came to mind. Willow had no idea what Francis was the god of. And he refused to tell her.

“Hey Francis!” Willow called out. “Do you have a motto? Or something I can share with our followers?”

“Semper Fidelis.” He said automatically. “It means ‘always faithful’.”

“Fidelity?” The faun laughed. That was surprising, but it wasn't terrible. Cults of monogamy had loyal but boring followers. It was always the same people showing up, week after week. “Are you saying you’re the god of monogamy?”

“Hell no! Well, maybe… cheating ain't cool. I hate that shit.” Francis considered what exactly he stood for. What did he like? What did he want to surround himself with?

System said he was on his way to becoming a god. Maybe he should start taking this cult thing seriously. “The truth is I haven't actually picked a MOS, so to speak.”

“Well, Francis.” Chuck clopped his hoof on the road to get everyone's attention. “You could be the god of horses. Our options are kind of slim among the major pantheons since Epona broke her ankle and became the god of adhesives.”

“Horses are cool.” Francis admitted. “Keep ‘em coming.”

“I like the monogamy angle. We should keep that. I think you are onto something with ‘faithfulness’ too. That's strong.” Willow wasn't about to start another sex cult. She had gotten that out of her system back in her 200’s.

It was missing something though. The Death Cleric snapped her fingers.

“Got an idea?” Francis asked.

“Yeah, how's this sound?” She waved her hand and made the words appear in the air in ornate gold script. But because it was Francis, she read them out loud. “Always faithful in life and death.”

“Hmmm, I can't help but notice it doesn't say anything about horses.” Chuck pointed out.

“Well, it's implied.” Willow said.

“Yeah, I'd still like to see it in writing.” This wasn't Chuck’s first rodeo.

Francis digested this information. He could digest anything, eventually. It was important to include the horses. He liked horses.

The Marine waved his hand and a new catchphrase scrawled out along the air in multi-colored crayon. “Always faithful, always loyal, both beast and man, in life and death.”

The High Priestess and the Treasurer considered this. As a faun, Willow liked the part about both beast and man. She would have preferred a more gender neutral phrase. But she was having a hard time thinking of one.

Chuck came to the rescue. He waved his hoof and new golden words appeared. “Always faithful and loyal, to both beast and not, in life and beyond death.”

“That'll do horse, that'll do.” Francis admired his cult's new motto. (But not too long, because they were words.)

“Oh. Thank you, Francis. I do what I can.” Chuck was making the most out of all that sweet XP. Chuck wasn't sure about the mechanics behind it. But he wasn't one to look a gift human in the mouth.

Willow was very happy with the “beyond death” bit at the end. The Death Cleric wondered if Chuck had added it on for her. “While we're nailing things down, what exactly do we believe in? Besides loyalty and fidelity?”

“And horses.” Chuck added.

“Of course, of course.” Willow apologized. “I'm sorry I didn't give that proper prominence. Ok, Francis. What do you think?”

Francis didn't like being asked questions or thinking. Normally he did his best not to answer and played dumb. But he figured forming a cult was a bit like a firefight.

They were all in this together and looking at him for leadership. He knew how that ended. If he didn't pick a direction to go, one would be picked for him. But if he chose the path and set the pace, maybe everything would turn out ok. “Give me a minute and I'll get back to you.”

He walked in silence for a bit. Only stopping to kill the occasional creature that was unlucky enough to have a bounty on its head. Francis wasn't big on feelings. He figured feelings were like friends, any more than five was excessive.

He was in unfamiliar territory. So he fell back on what he knew worked, with a few modifications.

Acquire local knowledge. (Willow)

Establish a base of operations. (Brexis)

Find trustworthy allies. (Chuck, Willow)

Gather resources. (Kill bounties)

Make connections with local tribal leaders. (Auldric?)

Pet any cool animals. (Chuck)

Destroy anyone or anything that threatens allies.

Find fun ways to kill time. (Killing shit, eating food, drinking)

Find a way home.

The last one was tricky. Francis missed his fellow grunts. But he wasn't sure if there was a way back home. This magic shit was complicated and Francis barely understood what was going on. They called it getting isekaied, which sounded a lot like getting shanghaied.

Francis figured he was in a Space Jam type situation. It fit with what was happening. He was in a new world with new rules, playing a game. So, did that make him Michael Jordan? Did he have to win the game to get back? Did he even want to go back?

A thought crept into Francis' mind. He had real power here, real freedom. If he went back, they would probably send him to the desert again. Francis hated the desert.

Technically his contract with Uncle Sam ended when he died. But that didn't matter. Duty was duty. Francis wasn't the kind to worm out of his responsibilities. If he managed to find his way back he would. And if he was stuck here, that was fine too. Marines make do.

But what did he believe? He pulled out a tobacco leaf and began to chew. If someone better at words were speaking, and not him, what would they say?

He didn't have the words yet. But something was brewing. “Let's keep fidelity, loyalty, monogamy, and horses. Add in grunts, chow, dogs, kicking the shit out of people who need it, and fighting for our friends. If we need other crap we’ll add it later.”

His High Priestess and Treasurer agreed. That would do, for now. But it could definitely use some refinement.