- TMK -

Vandar’s Temple reverberated with a priestly hum. Between wicker pews and adobe walls, they sang to Vandeirus’ namesake. Why Joh decided to join their morning prayer, he could not quite understand. Perhaps Joh hoped if he prayed enough, Vandar would grant him a boon like those ancient Salamanders hissing at clay statues. Maybe Joh simply wanted to know if Vandar was listening at all.

           

Vandar was real enough. The lion-headed deity appeared every Witherbreeze to collect tribute from his clergy.

           

Him and a dozen other Gods of the plains.

           

Deities who carved out earthly kingdoms long before the arrival of Salamanders, Humans, or Elves. But these idols were nothing like the one true God of the western Crusaders. Tangible value was what eastern Gods respected. Mercy, pity, charity…such concepts were foreign to an entity such as Vandar. In these lands, the boon of magic was a transaction, nothing more.

           

Gods like him made the Kingdom’s rise possible. Nearly four millennia past, the first Archon himself struck a deal with Naximan, the Shifting God, and conquered the whole of the Odran. Such was the way of the east. Affluence perpetuated affluence. Greed rewarded greed. And destiny was carved in pedigree.

           

Save for those like Joh.

           

Genealogy and breeding were complex arts not even four millennia of eugenics could master. Blood was fickle. Hidden traits could skip a generation. An ideal mate could spawn two undesirables for every perfect specimen.

           

Joh was one such undesirable calling the Kingdom home. Though in truth, the Kingdom could barely be considered a home. Wealth, status, and caste came with a pedigree that was lost to forlorn like him. They survived in a world apart from their eugenic brethren. While citizens could reap the benefits of pedigree–free schooling, a king’s purse, and a guaranteed occupation within a eugenic caste, the forlorn existed alone.

           

Because the only right they had was to exist. They were unwanted, unneeded chaff. They were too much of a burden even to dispose of.

           

For four millennia, the forlorn Salamanders grew and grew until they spilled out of every home in every city. They scoured the streets of the Kingdom, looking for any occupation that would take them. They bred with one another, creating muddled, imprecise bloodlines freeing them from Nassian eugenics into a world of strife and stagnancy. Everything they needed or wanted came when they clawed for it.

           

This was what awaited Joh outside the temple.

           

And, as Joh’s prayer went unanswered, Vandar’s high priest glowed with ruddy light. The priest raised a lion-headed coin to the altar. Then, his hands erupted with ochre fire as the God of the savannah granted his boon. As for what the bent, mishappen lizard gave in return…that was between him and Vandar. One thing was certain, though.

           

It was more than Joh could give.

           

The acolytes bayed and howled in the clay temple, exalting the magic the priest flaunted. Other worshipers amidst the pews sang out more hissing prayers, their forked tongues twirling around serrated teeth. Raspy, reptilian melodies echoed in the amber haze, forlorn and citizen alike clamoring to be the next recipient of Vandar’s blessing.

           

But Joh was done. He’d had enough of greedy Gods and priests. Moving his scaled bulk, he wove through the pews to rosewood doors. The energy of music disappeared as the temple shut behind him, leaving Joh before a muffled world.

           

The city of Vandeirus festered on the savannah horizon: A warped smudge of adobe, thatch, and tile along a brown and yellow plain. The sky above grew heavy with early summer showers. Patches of sunlight cut through the grey, speckling Vandeirus with ribbons of translucent white. Marble homes dazzling behind plaster walls cordoned off the Kingdom’s eugenically stratified citizens from the forlorn slums.

           

That sheet metal jungle Joh called home.

           

They stacked over one another as a rectangular agglomeration, clothes lines and stairs strung between them. Skyskiffs and galleons thrummed overhead. The cirrus haze of airships distorted the sky.

           

Slowly Joh made his way into the heart of a world that could not care for him.

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