Magic Murder Cube Marine

Francis saw a black mountain rising from the forest. A perfect circle of death surrounded it, killing even the grass that dared creep too close.

Bad things had happened here. Like a nuclear bomb or some other unspeakable horror. Nothing grew, even birds avoided flying over the blackened area. Then, men came.

They cut a road through the forest and laid the foundations of what would become Brexis. As they died or fell ill, corpses were raised to continue the work. Soon, the dead outnumbered the living. They carved away at the mountain like pale white ants.

Walls made from black stone appeared around the city. Then came the skeleton of infrastructure, roads, and buildings. A familiar city began to take shape.

Wagons traveled down the black road through the forest, bringing supplies and food for the workers. Barges traveled down the river, loading or unloading cargo at the docks outside the city. The city thrived, the flow of goods and people moving through it like water on a wheel.

Gradually, then suddenly, the black aura of death began to fade. Plants grew and birds circled overhead. Life, it seemed, had won. But it didn't last.

One day the wagons and barges stopped. Then the city closed its gates and slowly began to rot. Without fresh life to keep it at bay, the creeping black death returned to kill those who remained, and the city died with them.

Francis snapped out of the vision, breathing hard as he processed the deaths of nearly half a million people. Whatever evil cursed the land seemed to have been manageable, at least until the population started to fall.

He wondered if the original builders had chosen the spot for a reason. Maybe the black death was like oil, a resource to be harvested. That made sense to Francis. Why else would they build here?

Relativity sent him a feeling of overwhelming regret, like a bullet that couldn't ever be taken back. Francis didn't know what part Relativity had played in the city’s downfall. But he understood that the artifact blamed itself.

“Do better, this time.” Francis said as he looked out over the city. If Jack was right and his world was lost, this was his home now. He would need to make sure history didn't repeat itself.

The Marine retrieved one of the bottles of beer from his bag and took a sip. It was warm and sweet, but he drank it anyway. When it was finished he pulled out the second bottle. But this one wasn't for him.

“To absent friends, and a chance to honor them.” He said as he poured one out for the fallen. It splashed against the black stone and ran towards the storm drain. He would build something from this decaying ruin, a home to replace the one he lost.

Francis looked at the brown glass bottle, hefting it to get a feel before throwing it as hard as he could towards the setting sun. He watched it sail through the air. “And that one is for every son of a bitch I'm going to have to kill to make it happen.”

***

Francis reviewed his goals on the way back to base. Or rather, the palace.

Acquire local knowledge. (Willow, Relativity, System)

Establish a base of operations. (Brexis)

Find trustworthy allies. (Chuck, Willow, Auldric, Julia, Shiv, Jack)

Gather resources. (Kill bounties, Harvest Timber, Establish Trade, Farm?)

Make connections with local tribal leaders. (Lord Kelvin, King Laurence?)

Pet any cool animals. (Chuck, McHorseface, Jack?)

Destroy anyone or anything that threatens allies. (Julia’s Family, Hades)

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

Restore Brexis. (Religious center? Trade hub? HEB?)

They needed to get the fallen timber harvested and do something with Brexis besides let it sit there and rot. If he could get trade flowing down the river again, that would be a good start.

Francis figured even an inept ruler like Lord Kelvin could see the benefits of re-establishing a trade route so close to his city. It was called Riverlark for a reason.

But trade was like water, if it flowed to Brexis it had to flow away from somewhere else. Anyone whose pockets were about to get lighter would fight Francis’s plans.

That meant he needed someone in his corner big enough to make them think twice before taking a swipe at him. Sure, Francis was a god. But he was also just a grunt from Texas. His best bet was to find someone important whose interests aligned with his own.

King Laurence was an obvious big fish. Banks or whoever ran them would be another option. The Adventure Guild seemed to have a finger in almost everything too. Maybe they would be interested in a piece of the action.

But those were larger overarching goals that would take years. Francis had a much more pressing issue to take care of, Julia’s wedding. And, more importantly, the fallout from her family.

That whole situation was a clusterfuck. It seemed unnatural for a child to want to kill her parents. The very idea of it made his skin crawl. But after what Julia had told Francis about her upbringing, he could understand her hatred. How much of a fuckup did you have to be to make your own kid want to kill you?

He decided to reserve judgment until he actually met the family for himself. Francis doubted Julia had made it all up. But jails were full of Marines who killed someone because a woman told them a story, only to find out later that things weren't the way they seemed. He would trust, but verify.

Francis tensed up as he heard the sounds of shouting from the garden, but relaxed when he saw the party taking place under the gazebo. The wedding planning had devolved into something a bit more fun and a lot more wild.

“Oh my god! He's so fluffy!” Julia shouted, drunkenly hugging Jack. The dust hound seemed to be enjoying the attention and Shiv laughed uncontrollably from her seat on the bench. Her face was red with tears of laughter.

“Oy! Francis!” Jack shouted, “I’m breaking up with you and worshiping Julia from now on. She gives me bacon and head pats!”

“Traitor!” Francis shouted with a grin. It was nice to see everyone having a good time.

Willow strolled over with a tall glass of hard lemonade in each hand. She handed one over to him. “Welcome back. Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah. I think so.” Francis took a sip from his drink and grunted with appreciation. It was strong and sweet, just like Willow. “Hot damn! This thing tastes almost as good as you look.”

“Good.” The Death Cleric said as she wrapped her arms around him and went in for a kiss. Willow clinked her glass against his after they finally separated. “Here's to moving forward.”

“To moving forward.” Francis echoed, taking another sip. There were challenges ahead of them. But he knew with a little luck, and a lot of sweat, they would be just fine.

There was no point in thinking about the place he came from. This land was his home now. These were his people. And he would fight anyone who tried to take them from him.