PROLOGUE
WHETHER known to mortal men or not, much of history's greatest and most infamous tales are, in fact, triggered by melodramas of the gods. This one is no different.
If you were to look very closely into the shadow-infested corner of The Dying Rooster's Tavern with all of your eyes - unless you knew what you were looking for - you wouldn't see him. But Andy knew what he was looking for. He had seen him here many times before, and also, in his opinion, a dark and shadowed corner in an otherwise well-lit establishment was a dead giveaway.
He threw the hood off his floor-length cloak and boldly strode over to said shadowed corner, pulling an old wooden bar-stool out from under a thin wooden table lurking amongst the darkness; its surface scarred with over a lifetime's worth of cup-stains. He plonked himself down on the stool and grinned at the seemingly empty shadows brooding around the opposite side of the table. They appeared to sigh as Andy boldly stared into them, drumming his fingers on the table in anticipation.
Two minutes later, Andy's patience had finally run out. Sighing loudly, he opened his mouth and spoke directly to the patch of darkness: "Cut the act, Menka. I know you are there."
The shadows in front of him sighed again, before thinning and parting to reveal a man who appeared to be in his early twenties. He had hair that didn't appear to obey the rules of gravity as it thickly carpeted his skull, the ink-black strands growing in whichever directions they pleased. Eyes darker than darkest shard of obsidian: they, along with his hair, greatly contrasted with his abnormally pale skin. He reminded Andy of a ghost. Okay, maybe not quite like a ghost; he certainly was much more solid and real-looking, but Andy still thought that he definitely looked paler than usual, and slightly gloomier.
"What do you want, Andy?" Menka asked as he pulled his own bar-stool in closer to the table. "I think it is safe to assume that you aren't here for ale and a few rounds of those dice games that the mortals seem to love so much."
At the sound of 'ale' and 'dice', Andy softly chuckled. "If only we had such simple things to worry about. We need to talk."
"About?" prompted Menka.
"The drought is in its third year, now."
To this, Menka snorted. "And? It doesn't concern me. I'm the God of Shadows. Rain, or lack of, isn't my department."
"And it isn't mine, either. But, as I've recently figured out, it does have a lot to do with two certain swords: one of which used to be in your possession, and the other of which now is in your possession." His friend's brows raised in confusion
"What on Earth does it have to do with..? Oh." Menka sighed. He realized exactly what was going on. "Elias."
"Yes, Elias," said Andy. "'The God of Fire' Elias. That Elias."
Menka smirked with slight amusement. "I suppose heat, burning crops and a lack of water are in his department, after all."
"Yes."
"But where are the other gods and goddesses in this? Specifically, the Goddess of Water. This is also her department. Where is she?"
Andy sighed. "You know I don't hear much from the other gods and goddesses, but the last I heard, she was supposed to be heading off and doing something about it. She was about to fight a battle that was already lost, though. Elias does have that damned sword, after all."
Menka grinned, leaning back and comically raising his hands in defeat. "Well, we're all doomed then, aren't we? Well, the mortals are doomed. We will probably be fine." He chuckled as he finished the sentence.
Andy sighed once more. "Not quite. You do still have the other sword, right?" he asked, finishing with a snort.
"Yeah, the less powerful one," Menka said. "It's basically a piece of junk. Annoying, if anything."
To prove his point, Menka reached down by his side and pulled a dull and uninteresting looking short-sword from its scabbard, laying it on the table in front of them.
On closer inspection, Andy saw that it was flecked with orange spots of rust and didn't have an assortment of rare and ancient gems embedded in its hilt, nor did it have several powerful runes implanted in its blade. In fact, it looked exactly the same as when Andy had last seen it; not at all like how a powerful and fabled sword should.
"If it wasn't for that ancient myth involving it, I would have thrown the damn useless thing away an age or so ago."
"Hey!" the sword suddenly cried; its voice surprising neither Menka nor Andy. "I'm not useless!"
Menka sighed, and quickly put the sword back into its sheath, to much protest and several vile cries of outrage. "See what I mean? Useless. And very annoying. In fact," he lowered his voice before continuing, just in case some of the tavern's more mortal patrons were listening in on their conversation. It didn't look like any of the patrons were sober enough to care, but when mentioning words like the several that Menka was about to, you could never be too careful. "I bet that rumor about it being a god-killing weapon is complete bullshit."
Andy shrugged. "Well, it is pretty much this world's only hope. So, I do hope that that weapon is more than mere 'bullshit'."
Menka snorted. "You can't be suggesting... that... we... kill..."
"I am," he confirmed.
"Firstly, it's an impossible task. Beyond the impossible. We gods are called immortal for a reason. Secondly, we ain't heroes. We aren't the bad guys, either, but we are nowhere near the good faction. I'm the God of Shadows. Also, if you remember, I'm the god that everybody looks to blame first when the world is faced with unknown evil. You - you're the god of... something that doesn't even exist yet! The most minor of all minor gods. If it wasn't for your apparent inability to die, you might as well be labeled 'human'."
"Oh, thanks," Andy remarked, his voice lined with a thick batter of sarcasm.
"My point is, we aren't heroes and we won't ever be. If it wasn't for our immortality, going on this quest would be, for us, what those mortals liken to a suicide mission. Actually, knowing our combined luck, it probably will be."
Andy sighed, which he seemed to be doing quite a bit of lately. "Thanks for the thrilling rally speech, Menka. I'm so certain that our quest will be a success; we will end the drought and save the future of this world. In fact, I'm so excited and ready for this, we can start tomorrow!"
Menka groaned and placed his head in his hands, knowing that when Andy was involved, a heroic course of action was more inevitable than the end of the prologue. "Call that blonde barmaid over, will you? I don't know about you, but if we're gonna consider anymore acts of stupidity, first I'll be needing a good drink. Or two."
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