"Great and powerful Nuuk'ta! Go forth, and crush the unbelievers!"
I look around me at the symbols. It's pretty clearly a summoning circle which I had already guessed, but I'm trying to read the details. Looks like they were trying to summon a god, give him a physical form, and make sure he understood thier language. A pretty common package. The language thing has worked fine, I'm vaguely aware that they're not really speaking English. That's not something I would have expected them to bother with for a god - wouldn't they just figure he'd already know it?
That thing they just said, too - it was more of a command than a request. Hmm. I look at the circle again, and see what they were going for. They screwed it up, but the attempt at least makes sense.
"Ah. You're binding me to speak your language so that I don't curse you. I get it. And you're binding me to your will, so you can sic me on people. That's... ballsy."
I wonder what "ballsy" translates as in thier language. Saying it felt pretty normal, there's probably a similar term. They're looking nervous.
"No curse, Great one... we were told your divine language would kill mere mortals with the very sound of it?" I nod, hoping that's enough, and the head cultist continues. "Great and powerful Nuuk'ta, we seek only to live by your ideals. Conquest, dominance... um..."
It was going great until the 'um' part. Okay, so this is some sort of hyper-violent diety that they thought would appreciate the effort to play by his rules. Maybe they're even right.
I crouch down, still ignoring them. There's something that still doesn't add up... ah. They got the syntax a little wrong. That's usually what it is, actually. So they pulled someone with a physical form, rather than granting a physical form. I was probably just chosen because I was all powered up in my laboratory. All that magical energy made it easy to pull me over, and magic is a bit lazy when it comes down to it. Okay, so then how to get back to Michigan?
"For your boldness, I will spare your lives!" I yell, doing my best 'angry god' face. "Who are the unbelievers you refer to?"
They stammer out a tale, sometimes getting so worked up they're spitting a bit. Short answer seems to be 'everyone in the city but us'. They're oppressed, nobody likes that thier version of 'spreading the gospel' involves lots and lots of hitting people until they convert. Gee, I wonder why. And so they've called me from my 'throne of skulls' to smite everyone. Sure, fine. Let's do some smiting.
I step out of the circle, and feel only a slight tingle. I sieze on it and draw the magic in, causing the circle to flicker and fade. It's not a lot. Still, unlike all these stupid cultists I'm from a technologically advanced society with things like medical school. I know thier own physiology better than they could ever hope to. Everyone on Earth - my Earth - keeps wards up to protect from this kind of attack but I'm guessing that these tools have never encountered truly nuanced magic combined with detailed anatomical knowledge. Just a trickle of power, and...
Aneurisms all around. That was easy. Now I just need to figure out how to get the coordinates for my home dimension, and I can... um... something is wrong. There's a buzzing...
"THAT WAS A VERY CLEVER TRICK, HUMAN." The voice is in my head. It's deep, and powerful, and all I can picture is a towering throne of skulls. Hmm. It's possible that the spell grabbed me to use as a physical form, but was still successful at summoning the god. Into... my head?
"LET US GO TO THIS PLACE CALLED MICHIGAN YOU ARE THINKING OF. WE WILL SPREAD MY RELIGION TO THIS NEW LAND THROUGH BLOOD AND CONQUEST."
Ah, crap. Nothing is ever easy.
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