Fetch Quest

Patch 1.23.4

Azazel awoke to the smell of meat cooking. She stretched and rolled out of her bed, rubbing her bleary eyes. The woman made her way into the kitchen and found Lang skillfully maneuvering a frying pan on the small metal stove. Several brown sausages were sizzling pleasantly on the hot surface.

"What's the occasion?" Azazel asked as she sat down at the table, "You don't normally make breakfast."

"Oh, there's a variety of reasons," the hero glanced over his shoulder, "First and foremost, we caught five rabbits yesterday but only gave their pelts to the tanner. I don't want the meat to spoil."

"It's rabbit?" the woman asked, trying to keep her tone level.

"Not your favorite, I know, but we'll get more out of it this way than just selling the raw meat," Lang split the sausages between two wooden plates and placed them on the table. He opened the door to the stove and revealed the dwindling fire within, "Do you mind?"

"Lazy," Azazel muttered. She pointed at the flames and cast a water spell. The liquid hissed as it splashed the burning wood and the fire was extinguished. Lang nodded in satisfaction before taking his seat across from his companion.

"Besides, I've nearly maxed out my cooking skill," Lang winked, "Some may say it's useless, but I could cook a stick and it would still taste good. Try the rabbit. I think you'll find it to be to your liking." The raven haired woman rolled her eyes but obediently bit into one of the sausages. Her mouth was flooded with flavor. The meat was cooked just right and its texture was perfect. It truly was excellent. Despite that, it still tasted like rabbit.

"I'll give it a seven out of ten," Azazel decided, glancing up at the man, "Maybe seven and a half."

"Not bad," he rubbed his chin, "I suppose I can accept that."

"What were the other reasons?" Azazel inquired as she continued eating, "You only mentioned one."

"Oh, sure. I got up early to make potions and that made the house smell bad. Cooking something made the stench go away," Lang answered, "Also, the newest patch just came out. This is a little celebration of that too."

"What's that mean?"

"A patch is basically divine intervention," the hero explained, "The mistakes in the world are corrected."

"Mistakes like evil tyrants and atrocities?" Azazel furrowed her brow.

"Hmm, I didn't explain it very well," the man scratched his cheek, "I mean things that should work correctly but don't. Like the Hellhound!"

"Okay, I think I'm starting to understand," the woman replied, "So now if we come across a Hellhound it would move? Why would the gods want to correct a demon?"

"The true gods are not the ones you know and love," Lang began.

"I wouldn't say love is the right word..."

"Right, sorry," the man waved his hand, "but you know what I mean. The gods who have temples are supposed to be the embodiment of good. The people who created the patch are above the gods and have no interest in things like morality. Their job is to make the world function in the way it is supposed to, be it good or bad."

"I thought you said there was only one god?" Azazel said, feeling even more confused than before.

"David Amos, yes," Lang steepled his fingers, "He's the one in charge of everyone else; the face of the pantheon, so to speak. However, there are a lot of 'gods' who work underneath him. They're the ones who actually make changes to the world."

"That just sounds like a merchant company," Azazel frowned.

"That's a great way of putting it," the man grinned, "You're quite intuitive, Azazel."

"Your religion is weird."

"You don't even know how weird they can get," Lang chuckled, "Back where I come from, people fought over religion for centuries. Everyone had different interpretations of who god was or how many gods there were. When they found common ground there, they would fight over how to properly worship said god or gods. It was quite the time to be alive."

Azazel rubbed her temples. As far as she knew, there was only one faith in the world. That was of course the Guardian Council which consisted of six gods. There were cults which worshipped demons and the like, but they still acknowledged the gods' existence- they just viewed them as the enemy. Believers and cultists clashed all the time, but Azazel had never heard of the faithful fighting each other. People either followed the teachings of the six gods or they aligned themselves with the denizens of the underworld. Where was Lang from then?

The hero was clearly of Goltav. His features and skin color blended right in with everyone else who lived on the continent. He said that he had amnesia and couldn't remember anything of his life before awakening in a small town about a year and a half ago. Even if he was from somewhere Azazel had never heard of, how could he know about any other religion but Goltav's? Where he came from wouldn't be much different than the town they were currently in. It just didn't make sense! Her head hurt terribly.

The sharp sound of someone knocking on their door snapped Azazel out of her thoughts. She blinked and looked around.

"Are you alright?" Lang looked at her with concern as he stood up to answer the door. Azazel tried to remember what she had been thinking about but nothing surfaced. Strange. Well, if she couldn't remember it probably wasn't all that important.

"I'm fine, don't worry," Azazel gave him a reassuring smile. She followed him to the door.

"Ah, Helga!" Lang greeted the priestess standing outside their house. Her face was red and she was breathing heavily. Azazel wished she had a spell to replenish the stamina of the woman who had to run everywhere.

"Hero, come quick!" Helga panted, "Nethes has returned once again, this time in the cemetery! He is raising a legion of the dead to destroy the town!"

"Excellent timing," the man said, "We just finished breakfast."