[SP - F17] The Gods Fear Us <<Challenge of Olympus: Alchemist>>

[Oz 0]

It had been a while since Oz had received a message from, supposedly, none other than Zeus himself. Oz was always skeptical of bold claims such as these because, in all honesty, they were almost certainly always spam. Why would the leading god of the Greek pantheon deign to give Oz, of all people, audience within their court. Didn’t they have better things to do than waste their time on washed up has-beens who were only mediocre at best with their craft?

It wasn’t until he’d had some time to dig into the rumors a bit that he discovered the mail wasn’t just for show.

Surely automated (a god didn’t have time for the peasants, obviously), it seemed that this didn’t prevent the call to action from being legitimate. Even if it was, Oz hardly had a reason to go. What would they want him for? To shine their shoes? He'd supposedly been called on account of his “prowess” regarding the alchemic crafts, but he figured there was hardly anything the gods would want with his swill aside from sort of cleaning agent. Lord knew his drinks could serve as that, just as well as they could serve as beverages.

[Oz 0]

So he let the thing sit there in his inbox. Collecting dust. He hadn’t even opened it, so as to not send the gods a read receipt. How would they handle being summarily ignored by someone like him? Imagine providing a comfortable life for one of your pets, only to have it snub you at the first opportunity. Though, why would they desire the love and admiration of their subjects, anyway? If they were so beneath them. It was one of the things that never made sense to Oz, when it came to any mythology. He didn’t give a fuck if the ants loved him, why would the gods give a shit if humans loved them?

It was just more of the same. People demanding admiration and acknowledgement simply for existing and producing meager results most anyone could. Slightly impressive feats to be hoisted above everyone else's heads and treated as though a gift from the gods. Maybe true, but these gods didn’t impress Oz. They didn’t smite floor bosses, or move mountains, or do anything of note. No, they resided in their ostentatious little palaces, surrounded by yes-men and lower deities clambering for their next chance at some meager recognition. 

[Oz 0]

No thank you.

It was the Players who made the real moves in this world. The ones inducing change in an otherwise static plane of morose existence. They were the ones who felled the bosses. They were the ones who actually made things. They were the ones who, despite it all, had the most god-like powers in Aincrad. Oz hardly counted himself among them - the lowest form of deity, if we were calling humans gods now - but still recognized that he had the ability to “make.” And the longer this realization took root in his mind, the more he came to understand what the request from the “gods” really meant.

It wasn’t that they’d deigned to bless the mortals with their presence, though he was sure they’d frame it as such. It was that they were begging for the presence of the very mortals they witnessed affect real change in this world. They saw them, those lowly humans, slaying fantastical creatures far above their station and climbing their way up toward the heavens.

[Oz 0]

They witnessed as the Players created their very own custom foods and brews, hosting feasts which empowered them to best monsters the gods themselves quaked in fear before. Things the gods new better than to even attempt to trifle with. And then, they started to realize that humans could likely start to ameliorate their own discomforts with their wondrous new inventions.

Perhaps it was true all along that the gods recognized the humans as the new gods on the block. The ones who could do the things they themselves knew they couldn’t. Create things the gods couldn’t fathom. Best beasts the gods dare not even cast their eye upon, lest they upset them and become drawn into combat they couldn’t hope to survive. They may have done well to maintain that veneer of being higher, being almighty, being in control. But it was the humans that were in control, and the gods needed them. And they knew it.

[Oz 0]

The more Oz thought about it, the more amusing it became. They probably wanted him because he could do something that they couldn’t. And that just tickled him pink.

So, eventually, he accepted the quest. This was something he desired to see with his own two eyes. Something that could only amuse him to a certain extent, in his mind’s eye. He wanted to see if he could make one of these mighty beings grovel, beg him for some enchanted brew to cure their discomforts or fill them with the strength to rival the very humans they looked down upon. There was a chance that Oz had been wrong about it all. Maybe they were still all powerful, and simply had no interest or desire to change anything about the current status quo. Perhaps they could still kill Oz, or any other mortal, with a merely flick of the wrist, not unlike crushing a beetle beneath the heel of your boot.

[Oz 0]

Perhaps they already knew of his blasphemous amusement with their seemingly helpless weakness, and would smite him where he stood the moment they made first contact. These were all risks Oz was willing to take. He’d been wrong about many hunches, but this didn’t feel like one of them. The longer it stuck in his mind, the more it made sense. This was one he wanted to see through.

His trek through the seventeenth floor was largely uneventful. A buff had been applied to him the moment he reached the floor, something called ‘Blessing of Olympus.’ It seemed the gods had granted him some sort of protection from the floor’s mobs, all of which fled the moment they laid eyes on him. There were a few who tried to simply pay him no mind, but would find themselves ushered out of his way the moment he approached. As though physically repulsed through some sort of magic.

[Oz 0]

Not a good start if the result Oz was looking forward to was a demonstration of the gods’ feeble powerlessness. Still, he was appreciative that there wouldn’t be any fighting in store for him in this quest, or so he assumed.

Despite whatever desires he’d had previously for engaging in combat in Aincrad, they were all but snuffed out when he’d come into contact with the Titanium Warden. That thing had shown him just how hopelessly outclassed he was by the creatures of this world, and he dared not venture against them again. He’d need a body guard or some other means of of destroying whatever lay in his path that was separate from any Sword Arts or weapons of his own. He just simply didn’t have an attitude for it. The things never even hit him directly, and it had still almost killed him. He hurt himself more than it had, just by attempting an attack against it. And he didn’t even manage a stun or anything useful like that.

[Oz 0]

He had no business fighting monsters. Through what he could only assume was Hera’s handiwork, he’d be able to make the ascent all the way to Olympus. It seemed, however, that before he would be able to make his way there, he had an attendant to deal with.

“State your name and purpose for visit,” the unsightly satyr demanded as Oz approached the steps, not even bothering to so much as look up and make eye contact. It wasn’t exactly that Oz was the sort to demand recognition or respect - he hardly ever doled it out himself, and knew that he wasn’t the most impressive specimen. Still, there was something about this little freakshow, with his clipboard and holier-than-thou attitude, and rubbed Oz the wrong way.

“Yeah, I’m Oz,” he stated boldly, in a cocky tone. Perhaps even a little self-importantly. “Invited by the gods themselves? Surely you know of me?”

[Oz 0]

“Everyone who comes here is invited by the gods. I’ve got another two dozen of you assholes to deal with yet today,” the satyr replied, eyes still unmoving from that clipboard of his as he scanned the list of names.

It would be a bit of a lie to assert Oz hadn’t had the wind taken out of his sails with a remark like that. Still, he’d find some way to put this goatish brute in his place. “Calling me an asshole with a demeanor like that?” Oz countered. “You haven’t even looked at me yet.”

To this, the satyr closed his eyes and sighed, placing his pen down upon the clipboard and looking Oz in the eye with resigned indignity. After a brief moment, he returned to scanning the list. “There, happy now?”

No. No, Oz wasn’t happy. What an indignant oaf. Couldn't he see Oz had been called here for something important? “Can’t say I am.”

Edited September 1 by Oz

[Oz 0]

“Well guess you better get used to being unhappy, then. People ‘round here have jobs to do. Mine is finding your name on the clipboard and escorting you up the stairs to the gods who requested you. I can’t do that as long as you’re sitting around judging how I do my job and demanding stupid shit like eye contact. Can’t find your name in the list if I’m not looking at the list, can I?”

As much as Oz hated everything the little freak had to say, he couldn’t rightly say any of it was incorrect. Instead of replying, he chose to remain silent and try his best to be patient instead. Perhaps if he let the satyr simply do his job, the two of them could be free of one another in short order. They’d both surely be happier for it.

“There you are. Oz the Alchemist. Ah, another one of those. Lovely. It’ll be Dionysus seeing you today but, be warned, guy’s got a hangover. He always has a hangover. Might not be the best company.”

[Oz 0]

While there was admittedly some apprehension attached to having to deal with a hungover god, Oz couldn’t say that he wouldn’t be able to relate to the guy. It was an ailment he was all too familiar with, and if the god had a personality he could discern, he’d likely be able to navigate the situation with some semblance of grace. All that being said, he was now a bit beyond the point where he gave a shit about the gods groveling or not. Any amusement he’d felt regarding the situation had now dissipated, and now all he wanted was to get this shit over with and get on with his life. Probably go to the Sour Rumor and start developing a hangover of his own.

Oh, if only Cardinal actually allowed her subjects to have any kind of fun like that. Instead they were all relegated to what could be best described as near-beer. Had the taste, but none of the fun effects.

[Oz 0]

The hike up the stairs was long. There was a point at which, whether Oz looked up or down, he couldn’t discern where the stairs began or ended. Strangely enough, throughout their ascent, Oz didn’t feel the air begin to thin or get colder. Much the opposite. It filled his lungs more fully, and he began to feel a warm embrace he couldn’t quite describe. It wasn’t heat like the sort radiating from a roaring fireplace, or beaming down upon someone in the suns rays. This was like the warmth that came from within, magnified to an almost uncomfortable temperature. It settled right beneath that point, allowing Oz to feel ultimate comfort and relaxation. The closer they got to Olympus, it seemed, the better he felt. Almost as though filled with the grace of immortality himself.

Another bad sign if what he’d hoped was to come to pass. Maybe he'd been to hasty in his initial assessment of the gods' capabilities.

Edited September 1 by Oz

[Oz 0]

Eventually, they made their way to the upper platform, and the long hike had reached its end. That didn’t mean their trek was over, though. Through winding streets, the little satyr led Oz, cloudy outcroppings serving as unlikely foundations for glorious marble structures and edifices. There was a wispiness at their feet wherever they marched, the clouds seemingly as ethereal as they were solid. Their bodies could somehow move through them and not at the same time. More mystical fuckery.

At long last, they found themselves outside of a singular chamber. No sooner had they stopped at its entrance than a plate full of succulent green grapes whizzed through the threshold, clattering loudly on the ‘street’ outside and sending the fruit scattering. “No! I asked for the violet grapes. The violet ones! Do you think I’m stupid, like I wouldn’t notice you got me the wrong shit? Or is it just that you’re too stupid to actually tell the difference! Go get me more grapes, and get the right ones this time!” A moment later, a mortified attendant scuttled out from the chambers, no doubt to go fetch the violet grapes this time.

[Oz 0]

“This is it. Get in there and see what he wants,” the satyr said.

Oz cast a worried glance upon his clipboard-wielding adversary. “I don’t suppose there’s any way I could just leave and come back later, is there?”

“No,” came the flat response. “I don’t do these little trips for fun, you know. I’m not guiding you up here and again, and you ain’t about to leave after I went through all of the trouble of getting you here. You’re here, bub. You’re here, and you’re gonna make that guy happy, or die trying. Now, as I mentioned before, I’ve got several dozen more of you little miscreants to run up here today, and the day ain’t getting any younger. Good luck, have fun, try not to die.”

My, what an inspiring speech.

As the satyr took his leave, Oz peered into the darkness beyond the threshold of the chamber, trying to pick out details in the inky blackness that lay beyond. Unsuccessful, he took a long, pensive breath and steeled himself for his encounter with Dionysus.
 

[Oz 0]

One foot in front of the other carried him through the threshold and into the room, where eventually he could make out the silhouette of a muscular man strewn comfortably over a large chair.

When compared to the size of a normal man, Dionysus could only be described as gargantuan. He must have stood ten - no, at least twelve feet tall. It was difficult to tell, based on how his oversize frame was contorted over the throne he rested up on. At either side were attendants feverishly fanning him with large leaves. His skin, a deep bronze in coloration, seemed to glisten with an unnatural beauty that came not from sweat or baby oil. The guy was just literally shiny. Luscious locks curled whimsically atop the god’s head, while piercing violet eyes seemed almost to illuminate the darkness surrounding him. A loose toga barely covered his sculpted features, which would make most any mortal man weep with jealousy. Even the most dedicated of body builders wouldn’t be capable of achieving such a delicious physique. 
 

Edited September 1 by Oz

[Oz 0]

“Ah, finally, there you are. Oz the alchemist. You know, we called for you quite some time ago. It’s been days, and still he haven’t seen you. Until now, that is. We were beginning to think you would never show.” Just then, the same attendant which had fled earlier returned, this time with a tray of violet grapes for Dionysus, just as he’d requested. He took one look at the tray and his expression soured. He smacked it from the attendant’s hands, fruit once again flying about. “I specifically requested green grapes, you fucking animal. Am I going to need to go fetch my own grapes at this point? Lack you the mental constitution to complete even this most basic of tasks? Get out of here, get me the correct grapes this time. Do not disappoint me again, or there won’t be a fourth time.”

The attendant scuttled away once more.

[Oz 0]

“These fools - so hard to find good help these days,” Dionysus lamented, turning his attention back toward Oz. “I’m hoping you’re not as big a disappointment as he is.” The large fellow finally deigned it time to rise from his seat, taking a moment or two to fully outstretch his massive form before peering down at Oz again. Yup, definitely at least twelve feet. The verdant vandal had to crane his neck back just to get a look at the guy’s expression.

“I’m in a bit of a pickle, you see. I love to party - as I’m sure you’re aware - but partying has a nasty habit of giving me head-splitting headaches the following morning.” Dionysus made his way over to a nearby bar pouring two glasses of spectral liquid from an ornate golden vessel. Even from where Oz stood, he could catch a whiff of the overpowering aroma. It was possibly the most beautiful scent he’d ever had the pleasure of feeling fill his nostrils.

[Oz 0]

As he approached Oz with an outstretched arm, offering the second glass of the concoction, Dionysus continued explaining his predicament. “It’s my job to be the life of the party. I have a duty to ensure that immortals and mortals alike can partake in the joys of merriment. But the hangovers are just becoming unbearable.” Oz nodded thoughtfully as he allowed Dionysus to monologue, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a swig. That swig quickly turned into downright pouring the liquid straight down his throat. He’d never experienced a more delicious brew. And, to his delight, it seemed the glass would refill itself once it ran dry - no doubt another one of Dionysus’ tricks. One he couldn’t complain about.

“I’ve heard that you yourself are also quite the partier. In fact, have you not been using your talents as an alchemist to concoct various alcoholic beverages? I must say, my man, you are doing the gods’ work. My work, to be precise.”
 

[Oz 0]

Oz nodded in agreement, but he was barely listening. He was just guzzling more of that sweet ambrosia. 

“Surely you’ve cooked up some sort of remedy to help with the hangovers?”

Ah, so Oz had been right all along. The gods had summoned him to grovel for his crafts. Things they either wouldn’t, or couldn’t make themselves.

“Not help. Cure,” Oz managed between glasses of the sweet nectar. Had that been glass four or five? It was hard to tell. Although, this one stopped refilling in the middle, which caused Oz’s expression to sour. He peered down into the still glass, waiting for the liquid level to rise, but it appeared to have been paused. His gray orbs flickered instead to Dionysus, who now wore a dumbfounded expression across his visage. “Hey, don’t stop,” Oz spat, pointing at his glass. “I’m enjoying this stuff. We don’t get this on the ground, and I fully intend to - hic - take full advantage while I’m here.”

[Oz 0]

When prompted, Dionysus cleared his throat, and the glass began to fill once more, much to Oz’s delight. “Surely you jest,” Dionysus replied, the skepticism heavy in his tone.

“No, really,” Oz shot back before holding up a finger as though to signal ‘wait,’ downing yet another glass of the mystery liquid. He belched loudly upon completion. “Call it Congealing Ale. Comes out as a liquid but ends up going on as a paste. Not really sure how I figured it out at first, to be honest, but now it’s easy to make. Just apply it to your skin and it protects against a variety of nasty ailments. Preventing hangovers was honestly just a convenient side effect that went well with the rest of my product line.”

Oz summoned his menu and navigated to the inventory, selecting a few ingredients before dismissing the panel. These materialized in the blink of an eye, to the apparent bewilderment of Dionysus, and Oz caught them all in his outstretched robe held by his free hand. He brought the ingredients over to the bar and, in a matter of moments, had whipped up the very concoction the god coveted. “Don’t take my word for it. Give it a shot.”

With even heavier skepticism in his eye, Dionysus approached the counter and picked up a glass of Oz’s brew. First he took a whiff, and was clearly immediately disgusted by what he smelled. But Oz provoked him to continue with a motion of his hand, so the god gave it a shot. He poured it out of the glass and found that it had congealed into a pasty salve before it made contact with his skin, just as Oz had asserted. He rubbed it into his arm as though it were a lotion, and after a few moments…

“It’s… gone,” Dionysus stated in disbelief. “It’s gone. My headache. It just faded away.”

“Yep, like magic,” Oz beamed, taking great delight in the fact that one of the gods had genuinely needed his help to resolve such a simple issue. “Y’know, I thought you gods were supposed to be all-powerful. Aren’t you, like, the god of booze and parties or something? I would have thought you’d have the ability to prevent hangovers all on your own. What do you need my help for?”

There was a beat of silence. It seemed Dionysus was looking for the words to craft a response that didn’t paint himself or the other gods in a bad light.

“Lemme answer that for you. It’s cause you guys aren’t actually all-powerful, right?”

“Nothing is. We are certainly mighty, but even we have our limits. A mere mortal could never understand.”

“Oh, I understand alright. I understand enough to cure something you shoulda had a cure for eons ago, at the very least.”

There was another beat of silence. The Dionysus from a few moments ago may have degenerated into another outburst, but this one, with his head cleared, seemed to choose his words a bit more carefully. “There are things you ‘Players’ can do that we gods cannot. For these things we require your assistance. This was one such case.”

“That’s all I needed to here, champ,” Oz replied with self-importance. “You just send one of your satyr freakshows down to the Sour Rumor on the thirteenth floor for more refills. Bring coin. That is, assuming you’re able to traverse the floors.” Dionysus gave Oz a perplexed look. “Ah, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Anyways, do I get anything cool for, y’know, besting your hangover?”

Reluctantly, Dionysus reach across the counter and picked up the very decanter he’d poured their drinks from prior, offering the vessel to Oz. He accepted the gift in a flash, pleased to find that it was still filled to the brim with that heavenly drink. “Be warned that, once you leave Olympus, this won’t refill itself like it did before. You’ll have what’s present within the vessel, and nothing more.”

Admittedly disappointing news, but the prospect of getting to leave here with any at all was still exciting. He’d place it upon one of his many shelves behind the bar and save it for special occasions. With that, Oz offering the oversized buffoon a goofy salute before heading for the exit. On the way out, he happened to pass by the same attendant which had been scorned by Dionysus twice prior.

“Don’t worry, he’s in a better mood now.”

- - -

Thread Complete.
Quest Rewards:
- 500 EXP
- Dionysus’ Decanter

Thread Rewards:
- 400 col
- 397 EXP | (3976 words / 10 = 397.6 = 397) * (Tier = 1) * (Player Factor = 1) = 397

Totals for Economy Dashboard:
- 897 EXP
- 400 col

Edited September 1 by Oz