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Sarhush walked at a leisurely pace. Kur-Laka had disappeared beneath the hills behind, but even so far away its stench had yet to fade. Of course, the god was unbothered by such trivial things as smell. He had more work before him: more mortals to guide, more Mes to track down, and even more Mes to manifest.

What did occasionally bother him was the constant quarreling of his Patron companions. He’d chased them away before he entered the cannibals’ camp to render judgement and reclaim his Me, lest they distract him, but he’d barely left the last hovel behind before they had appeared by his side again.

“This is not the way that civilizations are forged,” the Patron of Civilization intoned now, its usually level tone subdividing, like footsteps overlapping in a crowded street. “You have directed them to build atop bog earth. Worse, you have lashed their destiny to others. Those they impress into these toils will be enfolded. When the structure sinks, all of them will be crushed. Nothing will remain but scattered ruins devoid of memory.”

Glory swelled and brightened. “I see merit in doing as Lord Hierarchy sanctioned here. That settlement will harness fear into spectacle; from spectacle shall come renown. “And if it collapses into the bog, then the next one’s rise will be all the more glorious!”

The Patron of Fire flickered. “They feed my hunger,” the living flame mused, “and now they learn my power to harden earth and clay, not merely to sear and soften meat. They will need me more; they will feed me more. Whether they truly merit my covenant remains to be seen.”

Civilization’s discontent had not diminished. If anything, the glee of Glory and indifference of Fire had only destabilized the usually placid Patron further. “Civilization is stability, memory, and continuity. You have established none of these conditions here. This ‘seat’ that you have consecrated is doomed, and when it falls, the ripples will regress civilization.”

[color=#9E5020]“[i]When?[/i]”[/color] Sarhush echoed with a chuckle. [color=#9E5020]“[i]If[/i] Kur-Laka falls, then they are unworthy. But [i]if[/i] they succeed?”[/color]

He turned to face Civilization with a thin smile. The look made Civilization’s angles hesitate, as though its form had briefly forgotten how to align itself. [color=#9E5020]“Ashuru will tremble!”[/color]

Lord Hierarchy’s presence resolved; it was the invisible stairway that imposed distance, arranging Sarhush above and the other Patrons as mere courtiers below. “On this day, order was established. The weak were subjugated, the strong elevated. Efficiency was maximized. That is the way of things.”

Civilization shuddered as its geometry reconfigured, lines tightening and symmetry straining.

“This is not order,” Civilization replied. “What you call efficiency is brittle. You describe a system of load without reinforcement. When it fails, the consequences will be catastrophic.”

“Failure is only another form of sorting,” Lord Hierarchy answered. “That which cannot bear weight should not have been elevated. Once this is realized, that which failed is crushed downward, and the hierarchy is corrected.”

Sarhush nodded approvingly without even thinking; Lord Hierarchy proved itself wiser every time it spoke.

The Patron of Glory pulsed with approval. “A collapse that clarifies rank,” it said brightly. “Brilliant! Elegant! Perhaps even glorious?”

For its own part, Fire said nothing. Still, its flames leaned toward the sound of Lord Hierarchy’s words, and for a moment they burned brighter and hotter, attentive and curious.

[color=#9E5020]“You see?”[/color] Sarhush continued his walk but with his face turned toward Civilization. [color=#9E5020]“Even now, structure emerges. I realize now that you are far too timid, Civilization. This course is one of action, not the trepidation that you espouse.”[/color]

Civilization’s voice slowed, deliberate once more. “When Kur-Laka sinks, when its people fall and its monuments crash down alongside them, what happens next? Who remembers? What is there to inherit?”

Sarhush’s smile returned, wide as a valley. He was about to answer, but before he’d even started the Patron had vanished. Civilization disappeared in a huff, its spiraling glyphs and patterns locking into place, going inanimate as the spirit fled in frustration. Sarhush only laughed. Let that one sulk; time would prove his approach right. Surely. 

Civilization would come to understand that Sarhush knew its aspect better than even it did.

As for the other Patrons, Sarhush spurred them to follow as he marched onward. The odd posse made good time. On the horizon, a new landscape drew into sight.

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[i]Great blackened husks were all that remained of what had once been forest, but everywhere were green shoots rising up as the sun restored Nature’s hold over the land.[/i][/center]

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The peanut gallery argues with Sarhush over what he just did in Kur-Laka! The Patron of Water didn't appear this time because it's probably still sleeping off that last falcon punch.

[b]CONVICTION EXPENDITURES:[/b]
0 conviction to pwn the Patron of Civilization in an argument and make it ragequit (in-domain lucid action)
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