[h2][centre][colour=#800020]Making Friends - Surely a Mistake[/colour][/centre][/h2]
[hr]
“Shit… That was too close,” murmured Manek, a pox-dotted hand rubbing a sun-blistered neck and adjusting the wet turban fashioned from rags that sat atop his head like a cowpie.

There came a groan from his left. “I think that son of a bitch dislocated my shoulder…”

“Oh, shut it, Sadwa, you dumb bitch. You reap what you sow - you go for the biggest guy, the biggest guy breaks your arm, simple as.”

The small man with the bulb-like shoulder grit his teeth as he glared at the knife-wielding skeleton of a man who was arguably more lice-infested beard than meat and muscle. “Oh, well, your statement must be a whoooole grilled pheasant, that, because that sounds rich as all hell. Who pushed me at that fat lump, huh? Oh, let me guess - his name rhymes with– agh! Ow, ow, ow.”

The boned man squeezed a laughter. “Oh, widdle Sadwa aw owie-owie? Arm aww hudhie?” 

“Skinny, stop kicking the ox,” silenced Manek and slapped him over the back of the head. Skinny tilted forward and pecked at Sadwa’s shoulder with his forehead, inciting a pained squeal. As their argument intensified, Manek groaned and sped up. Ahead of the three of them, a fourth man made stoic steps through the woods, greasy black hair glittered with forest floor detritus flowing down a moth-eaten reed sack that functioned as a tunic. A blood-crusted sharpened stick that doubled as a walking stick filled his right hand, and his weak body needed all the support it could get. Despite his frail appearance, though, his grim, wrinkled expression radiated loyalty to an unnamed purpose. Manek cleared his throat and lowered himself slightly with great respect.

“Krassus,” he greeted. The man offered him a grunt of acknowledgment, barely audible against the background cacophony of the other two idiots. Manek continued, “What’s the plan now? I mean, that was–...”

“Another fluke,” the leader stated without turning his head. “Scipio was out of position; Fat Luck wasn’t fast enough; Skinny and Sadwa were…”

“Skinny and Sadwa?” Manek finished.

“Precisely,” Krassus concurred coldly without casting a glance backwards, yet it seemed as though the simple mention of their names came as a windshear that shut the two up in shame. Manek rolled his eyes at them and sneered at Krassus. 

“Remind me again why–”

“You will not finish that sentence,” Krassus warned and stopped. Manek froze in his steps. Skinny and Sadwa blinked like a pair of puppies. Krassus shared a glare with each of them and sighed. “It seems that after every blunder, we must remind ourselves what we are…” He pointed at Sadwa. “Raper. Shunned and cast out from your home for grotesque and animalistic acts against your brother’s wife. Rumour says she will never bear a child again. You are an affront to gods and men alike.” 

Sadwa hung his head in shame. Krassus spat on the ground and turned to Skinny. “Murderer. Four people, nonetheless - all because, what, because you wanted to? Why, Skinny?”

Skinny swallowed. “They, they were looking down on me and–”

“And what? You thought killing them would prove your point? You disgust me.” The colour drained from Skinny’s skin, excentuating the hollows between his bones.

Lastly, Krassus turned to Manek. Manek made a hard face back. Krassus eyed him up and down. “What, you aim to meet the truth with pride? Tell me, Manek, what pride is there to be had in infanticide, hmm?”

“You’ve proven your point, sir…–”

“Oh, no, I don’t think that I have, Manek” Krassus hissed back. “You ask me every single time – without fail – why I shepherd the most worthless, ungrateful and hopeless looters, brigands and highwaymen on this side of the 18th Node.” The three winced. “The answer – every time – is that we, Manek, are scum. Filth. Waste that not even the rats will dine on. We are subordinate to cockroaches, that’s what we are. Do you know what that means, Manek?”

The shattered, pox-dotted man didn’t dare to look up. “We stick together with whom we’ve got.” 

“That’s right,” breathed Krassus coarsely. His eyes shifted slowly between the three of them. “We stick together with whom we’ve got. When the world turns its back on sinners like us, we have no choice but to live in the darkness with those who dwell it with us. We hate each other, but we depend on each other. No man an island; no wolf a pack. We lie, cheat and steal so that we may live another day. We hunt the most dangerous prey of all - redemption. We dine on rotting dogs and drink filthy water in the hopes that, one day, a little droplet of light with penetrate our darkness and grant us that chance - that once chance to forgo all the consequences of our actions and step back into the day.” He stuck his hand into his tunic and took out a bronze-coloured dime. On one side was the unmistakable horned head of Xavior. 

“Whe-where’d you get that, boss?” whispered Skinny as though they were in a temple.

Krassus cast him a short-lived glance and spun on his heel. “We keep moving.” As the black-haired man stormed off deeper into the woods, the three remained for a second to exchange uneasy looks. Manek sighed.

“I’ll… See to that shoulder, Sadwa. Here, take a seat…”

[hr]

By nightfall, the little band had found an enclave in the woods at the border between node 22 and 26 that they were sure hardly even the trees knew about. So hidden was this place that they were uncertain whether they would find the exit again. In order words, it was perfect. Here, the group laid down to rest, lighting no fires as they didn't trust their hiding spot that much. They probably weren’t being hunted, but one could never be too sure.

However, around an hour past midnight, Sadwa rustled to his feet and let out a silenced yawn. With filthy feet, he strolled his way over to a nearby tree to answer nature’s call. As he let the streams flow freely, he remarked the somewhat odd sound at the impact point. Rather than the deep, hollow drum of liquid pouring over the forest floor, a wetter, flatter pitter-patter instead dominated the soundscape. Sadwa frowned and looked down. There, just barely visible in the forest darkness, he could make out, well, something… A rock? It was… Somewhat gray, he supposed, so why not. He shrugged to himself.

Then it moved.

“AAAAAAH!” came the scream that awoke the rest. 

“Sadwa, that dumb cunt,” groaned Skinny and rolled to a seat. Krassus and Manek were already storming into the woods in pursuit of the sound. It didn’t take them long to reach him, laying there whimpering on the ground caressing his splinted arm, which had been twisted into an inhuman angle. A fist took him by the hair and jolted him from the ground, a sheen of metal closing in at his throat.

“STOP!” shouted Krassus. The metal halted on a soft indent against Sadwa’s skin, a trickle of red dripping down the quivering throat. The moon revealed it to be a knife as silvery as fish scales, held in the tight grip of a uniformed man in a long silver cloak with dripping wet hair. Manek swallowed.

“Shit, it’s a fucking paladin,” he squeezed through frozen lips and looked for escape routes. Krassus instead held up a hand. He put down his sharpened stick and reached out his other towards Sadwa and the captor. 

“Evening, sir. See you’ve got my friend in your hand. What would it take for you to let him go?”

All he got in response was a flaring, nasal breath like that of a furious bull. Sadwa tried his best to stifle his sobbing as every hulk ground his throat up against the knife. Krassus reached forth his other hand and held them open for the assailant to see. He nodded for Skinny and Manek to drop their weapons as well. “Hey, we’re not going to hurt you, sir. That man there is a good friend of mine - if you don’t hurt him, we won’t hurt you.”

The man scoffed. “You think you can hurt me, huh? Huh? Is that why you pissed on me, huh? To taunt me?” The breathing intensified. “IS IT?!”

Sadwa sobbed as his every orifice expelled what it could expel in an effort to empty the body. Krassus tried not to break eye contact with the man despite the shameful display. “I’m sorry, he did what to you? Oh, that’s awful! I’m downright ashamed on his behalf, sir! Downright ashamed! If you give him back to us, I will make sure he doesn’t eat for a weak - swear before the gods.”

The man heaved a deep breath and pulled the knife back a little. Then not even a second later, he put the blade right back where it had been and pulled at Sadwa’s hair with such violent strength that he threatened to scalp him. “This is a trick, isn’t it? You’re, you’re trying to trick me - make a fool out of me like everyone else. That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?” 

Krassus took a small step forward. The angle of the moon allowed him to get a better look at the stranger’s face. What had no doubt once been a well-kempt beard, fine hair and stoic features had been twisted by an eternity in the woods. He looked wilder than them - not even wolves had such savagery in their eyes. “No tricks, sir. You’ve got my word.” He feigned a polite chuckle. “Hell, do we even look like the sort who eat multiple times per week?”

The man softened again. “... Eaten, beaten, robbed of my node, sent on the run and now peed on? I’m… I’m no better than some stray dog…” A flash of silver left small blindspots on their eyes as the moonlight sheen reflected off of the dagger dropping to the ground. “I’m supposed to be a god… Here I am, smelling like a pigsty with no followers, no friends… No one but the voices, [sub]oh the voices…[/sub]” He released Sadwa, who dropped to the ground with a snotty thump, and started slapping himself in the face. “Do you know how that makes me feel?! DO YOU KNOW HOW THAT FEELS?!”

Krassus had to employ every inch and drop of discipline in his body to maintain his calm. He had been skeptical of Manek’s hypothesis that this had been a Benean paladin on the run, but a god? Could it be? Could they have have found their ultimate haul? He tried as subtly as he could to swallow his excitement and gestured for the man to continue. “How does it make you feel?”

The man froze mid-slap. “... What did you just ask me?”

Krassus felt sweat accumulate on his forehead. “H-how does it make you feel? What you just said?”

The man blinked. “You… You actually want to know? A-are you approaching me with… With interest?” Instinctively, another knife appeared in his hand out of thin air. Krassus heard slack-jawed whispers behind him and felt the tremors in the ground from the shaking feet of his companions. The man held his knife arm spring-loaded like a cat ready to pounce. “Is, is this a trick?”

“Not a trick, divine one - no, Magnificent One,” Krassus corrected and bent the knee. That knife - all the proof they needed. His companions, save for the already-floored Sadwa, both prostrated themselves in an instant. “If something ails the Ultimate Being, then we as servants must naturally know so we can help repair it!” He bent the other knee and lifted his hands to the man in prayer. The man was stunned.

“M-M-M-Magnificent One? Ultimate B-Being?” he whispered under his breath.

“My humblest apologies, Master of the World. My useless, unlearned tongue cannot precisely formulate adequate cognonyms to describe your superiority over us and everything there is. I cannot regret my mistakes enough–”

“No, no, that’s… That’s fine…” The man tasted the monikers under his breath. “W-well… Since you asked… It… Makes me feel… Aaaangry,” he explained slowly. “... I feel like… I don’t get the… The respect… That I as, as y’know a divine being, deserve. N-nobody… Nobody listens… Ever. P-people can’t, can’t just… Shut the ffffffffffffffuck up… And, and, and, and that pisses me off. [sub]It pisses me off so much[/sub]… So much, so much, so much, SO MUCH, SO MUCH–”

“Celestial Master,” Krassus implored calmingly. During the man’s outburst, the three hand closed in on him slowly. Manek and Skinny were tending to the whimpering Sadwa while Krassus adressed the god. The man eyed the three of them with glassy eyes and that bull-like breath again.

“A-are you going to leave me?”

Krassus frowned at the very question. “My Eternal King…” He bent the knee once more. “... We are your loyal servants. Your wish is our command - we would never leave you. In fact…” Slowly, Krassus reached out and gently took the knife from the man’s hands without resistance. He permitted his eyes to scan its appearance; his hands to feel its weight. This was unlike any metal he - and anyone he had ever known, he suspected - had ever held. It looked as sharp as polished obsidian. He cut as softly as he could across the top of his palm, crimson streaks flowing out immediately as the metal effortlessly parted tissue and flesh. The blade was so fine that there was hardly any pain until a few seconds after the deed was done. What a magificent weapon… He rubbed the blood across his palm and touched his face, leaving a bloody print. “Let this hand be the symbol of my loyalty, Great Master. Should I, Krassus, ever leave you or your service, let it serve as a reminder that you may take my hand, my head and my life. Please, let us know your name so we may swear our oath formally.”

Now it was the man’s turn to stare slack-jawed. A good minute passed before he started fidgeting and patrolling in a small circle, whispering to himself. Krassus remained motionless, while his companions exchanged worrisome looks. After another minute, even Krassus had to shut his eyes in blind hope that this would work. The adrenaline pumped in his veins - every part of urged him to run in case this wouldn’t work. But if it did work…

“[sub]No… No, no, no… Yes… No… No, that’s stupid… Crimson Hands…? No, bad metre…[/sub]”

Krassus opened one eye. Could it be…?

“VERY WELL,” declared the man louder than he needed to. “... I have… Elected. That you three - four, sorry, four–” Sadwa cried as Skinny and Manek tried to pop his arm back into place with a great deal of effort. “... Will serve as my eternal disciples… Servants… Followers…” He swallowed and pointed at Krassus. “Henceforth…” A second of quiet passed. “... You shall be known as… As…” Another second. Krassus swallowed. “Krassus.” 

Krassus blinked and nodded slowly. “I, I thank you for naming me–”

“APP! Not finished. Don’t interrupt me.” The man stared into the distance with thoughtful eyes. “Krassus… Krassus…” He tasted the name. “... Krassus… King Krassus… Prince Krassus… Cardinal Krassus…” Finally, the god pointed a second hand and declared decisively, “Krassus Ecclesiast, Grand Synodite of Cotazur, Cosmic King of the Crucible."

There was a moment of silence. 

“I thank you for my title, Cotazur, Cosmic King of the Crucible.”

Cotazur nodded in approval. “Please, Nestor Over Nodes and Nations will do just fine,” he threw out smugly and moved on to the rest. “You, shit-stained bitch,” he said as though it was a compliment. Sadwa, Skinny and Manek all looked up with horrified smiles. Cotazur kicked Sadwa gently and, with the most sickening, cringing and ear-shattering sound known to man, every bone in his broken arm and shoulder twisted itself back into place. Sadwa didn’t even scream. The pain was too severe for that. Cotazur didn’t seem to care and nodded approvingly. “Taking it like a chomp, a champ. You shall be known as… What’s your name?”

Before anyone could answer, Cotazur continued. “Well, it won’t matter. It was probably as stupid as you are for pissing on me.” He drilled a finger into Sadwa’s temple that threatened to pierce both skin and skull. The others could do nothing but watch. Sadwa had long since passed out. “You sure can handle your pain, huh. Then it’s settled. You shall be known as Lazarus Delendum, Grand Bulwark of Cotazur, Unrelenting Destroyer of Enemies.” 

Stepping on the passed-out body as he moved onto the next, he faced Skinny who was at the break of tears. “What’s your–”

“SKINNY!” he squealed.

Cotazur frowned. “Well, that’s no way to speak to your master.” With a surgically precise grip, he forced open Skinny’s mouth with one hand and conjured yet another knife in his other. “Maybe that tongue of yours needs readjustment.”

“Nestor Over Nodes and Nations,” Krassus pleaded.

“Krassus, didn’t I tell you to call me Eternal Lord of Lords and Lands?” Cotazur spat back as he held the knife right over Skinny’s mouth. “Hmm… That beard, too - you look like a tumbleweed, y’know…”

“Eternal Lord of Lords and Lands,” Krassus corrected. “His name is Skinny. Forgive him, please, he is just nervous in the presence of the Almighty.”

Cotazur looked at Krassus and then back at Skinny. Then he spat a laughter into the bearded mess of a face. “Your NAME is Skinny? Oh, my word, what a pathetic and disgustingly descriptive name. It’s almost so hopeless that I nearly want you to keep it. Nearly.” As he grumbled on a new name, the knife tick-tocked from side to side over Skinny’s still gaping mouth. “No, you’ll need a better one. I won’t have one in my battle battalion by the name of Skinbo, no, no, no, siree… Still, what can a walking anatomy lesson like you do for me…” 

“‘Eaah…” pleaded the gaping man. 

“I’ve got it! Henceforth, you shall be known as Excels Supremitus, Grand Assassin of Cotazur, Utopian Prince of All Creation. Your skinny frame is sure to let you sneak in all over the place, hmm? Hahahaha.” He let Excels go and moved on wordlessly while the man massaged his jaw tearfully. Manek resigned to his fate and stood still in the face of danger. Cotazur nodded with respect.

“Look at you. No fear in those eyes. I admire that. Much like myself, you possess an unyielding fighting spirit and cannot even fathom of the idea of retreat. You stand your ground, like me.” Cotazur’s fist punched Manek’s shoulder, and anyone without the god’s rose-tinted glasses could see that the blow had knocked him several steps back and nearly dazed him. “What is your name?”

“M-Manek,” replied the weakened looter.

“Oh, no, that won’t do. Such a small name would be invisible next to your peers’. You shall henceforth…” He drummed his fingers on Manek’s other shoulder, leaving bruises. “Rictus Erectus, Grand Commissar of Cotazur, the Alpha, Omega, X, Y and Z of Literally Anything You Can Think Of.” 

Rictus could barely stand. “I think, I think you punctured something…”

“Yes, Rictus, I could not have said it better myself. I have punctured something - the stagnant state of this world. With you four lieutenants at my side, my ambition to shape this world into its true form can be realised.” The following dramatic pause gave the others a chance to breathe. Krassus jumped on the chance to speak.

“Then… Where are we heading, Cosmic King of–”

“Just Cotazur is fine. How many times do I have to repeat myself here?”

“Cotazur,” Krassus corrected instantly. “Where are we heading first as part of your grand plan?”

“Plan?”

Krassus nodded. “The plan, yes.” There was a pause. “We have a plan, yes?”

“No, that’s your job, you ffffffffffucking IMBECILE. You are the GRAND SYNODITE! This is what you FUCKING do!” Cotazur kicked over a tree.

Krassus nodded. “Forgive me, Cotazur–”

“MASTER Cotazur.”

“Master Cotazur. I am still adjusting to your magnificent tasks. I have a plan already, you see.”

Cotazur blinked. “You do?”

“Oh yes, oh yes. A grand plan. A plan to assure your rule for all eternity.”

Cotazur nodded approvingly. “Well, then, no time to lose. You will share it with me on the way. We journey northwards,” he proclaimed and walked off.

“The Master is as wise as he is mighty - north is indeed where we’re going!” yelled Krassus after him before kneeling down to help his companions. Lifting Lazarus up by the arm, he glanced over at Excels and Rictus. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Are you insane?!” whispered Excels sharply. “If we go with him, we’re dead, you hear me? Dead!”

Krassus sighed. “Look, I don’t disagree with that assessment, but this is a god we’re dealing with. Imagine what he could give us.”

“Yeah! The slowest fucking way out! He nearly killed Sadwa - Manek here is going all pale!”

“I don’t feel so good, boys,” Rictus sloshed and coughed. Krassus sighed. 

“This won’t be a forever thing, okay? We’ll stick around with him for now… We’ll find him an army of brigands in the north–”

“Fucking Fat Luck’s plan, dude?!”

“Yes, Fat Luck’s plan. I know some people in Tilum’Velik - we couldn’t convince them before, but… Maybe we can do it now… Imagine the loot, Skinny…”

“I AM NOT ONE TO WAIT, MINIONS!” came a shout from the woods ahead. The four of them hurried. Excels shook his head as he supported the increasingly paler Rictus.

“... And I thought I was crazy…”

[hider=Summary!]
Four bandits are on the run from a bad blunder in the forests between node 22 and 26. Two of them, Skinny and Sadwa, bicker over whose fault it was while Manek consults their boss Krassus. Krassus gives them all a stern talk about the importance of apes together strong and that escaping their pasts is the goal.

That night, Sadwa goes out for a tinkle. He pees on something weird which, surprise surprise, turns out to be Cotazur passed out on the forest floor. Cot breaks his arm and almost kills him, but Sadwa's teammates arrive just in time. Krassus manages to calm Cotazur and, upon hearing that he's a god, swears allegiance. Everyone except for Cotazur thinks this is a really shitty idea, but the alternative is starvation. Cotazur, only experiencing positive social contact for a second time, is ecstatic and completely reinvigorated. He names all four of them his lieutenants:

Krassus becomes Krassus Ecclesiast, Grand Synodite of Cotazur, Cosmic King of the Crucible.

Sadwa becomes Lazarus Delendum, Grand Bulwark of Cotazur, Unrelenting Destroyer of Enemies.

Skinny becomes Excels Supremitus, Grand Assassin of Cotazur, Utopian Prince of All Creation.

Manek becomes Rictus Erectus, Grand Commissar of Cotazur, the Alpha, Omega, X, Y and Z of Literally Anything You Can Think Of. 

(WARNING: These titles come with literally no powers and are arguably a detriment given they each take a minute to pronounce.)

Cotazur then rages at Krassus for not having a plan the second after being granted the intuitive title of Grand Synodite, who obviously is in charge of the plans. As it turns out, he does have a plan, though, and they all set off for the north and the nodes around 13, the looters all agreeing that this is a very bad idea.
[/hider]

[hider=Might!]
5 Might, not a dime spent, not even on his fresh lieutenants.
[/hider]