Scratch-outs and comments mar the notes painstakingly written on parchments which are spread across the high work-table in front of where he stands. Littering the ground around his feet in this first-floor, rented workroom are other crumpled parchments, one which has “DON’T DO THIS AGAIN!" visibly written across the top in huge letters. To his right, in an open floor spot between the table and the wall, stands a vaguely humanoid form, motionless and lifeless.
“No, that’s not right either,” he mutters while absentmindedly scratching his light brown beard which is as unkempt as his uncombed hair, both matching the assorted stains on what used to be a pure-white toga.
YOU KNOW. OTHER GODS JUST SELECT A WORTHY FOLLOWER TO BECOME THEIR HERO.
Lord77 startles at the sudden, and very close, voice sounding from behind him. Turning quickly, he sees the tall, black cowl clad figure now standing in his work lab, gripping a long-handled scythe in his bone hand.
“You didn’t have to sneak up on me like that!” the god growls. “And besides, dad created me. So, creating a hero seems appropriate.”
Returning to his papers, he scrawls atop a new page, “Adam – Trial 76” and begins rewriting some notes from a previous page.
Over his shoulder, not looking at the “harbinger of death, taker of souls”, the god grumbles, “Why are you here anyway?”
I KNEW YOU WERE STILL AT THIS PROJECT AND THOUGHT YOU MIGHT NEED ME.
“Nope! No need to get your claws into this boy. I got this,” the toga-clad god responds as he scratches a final line on the current parchment.
“There! That should do it,” Lord77 affirms, and then holding the notes in one hand, he pulls his will and releases it at the motionless form while performing the spell as written.
Finishing the incantation, the disheveled god places the parchment back on the table, breathing heavily and mopping his brow now laden with sweat from the effort.
“Well?” the god challenges the tall, black cloaked figure. “What do you think of him?”
VERY NICE, the ancient immortal responds in a raspy, deep base. BUT, I QUESTION WHETHER ‘HE’ SHOULD HAVE ‘THOSE’.
“What?!” Lord77 exclaims, now looking his creation over. Then, grabbing the latest sheet, he exclaims, “Oh, dammit! I must have copied this part from one of the earlier attempts when I was considering a heroine instead.”
QUITE IMPRESSIVE, the dark figure adds. SOMEWHAT OVERSTATED THOUGH, DON’T YOU THINK? YOU SEEM TO BE CARRYING A BIT OF A FETISH.
“Don’t you have some souls to gather?!” the god snarls irritably over his shoulder, quickly filling out a sheet, titled “ADAM – Trial 77”.
THERE ARE. BUT, THAT’S THE NICE THING ABOUT THE DEAD. THEY HAVE PLENTY OF TIME TO WAIT.
“Hmpf,” Lord77 grunts, finalizing the parchment sheet. Then, setting his quill to the side, the god lifts the newly printed paper and stands before the soundless figure.
Taking a deep breath, Lord77 pauses, and then again pulling his will, he releases the RAW magic, wrapping the figure with it as he begins reciting the crafted spell, each line causing the form to change, morph, and finally coalescing as the god finishes the incantation. On the last word, the god slices the Godpower, letting the energy flow into his creation.
Stepping back, the toga-clad god studies his work. Over a head taller than the god himself, the imposing figure before him is lean and muscular with light brown hair similar to his creator.
“Perfect,” Lord77 whispers, and then realizes a problem. The eyes, piercing blue in color, stare straight ahead, lifeless.
“Hel-lo!” the god says while waving his hand in front of the figure.
“Odd…” he then grumbles. “The spell completed correctly. I don’t know why—-“
Lord77’s wonderings are interrupted by the sound of jingling bones rattling against each other. Turning, the god sees the tall, dark specter now waving an object in his free hand, his wrist bones clinking against each other as the Reaper rotates the object, a simple hourglass, focusing the god’s attention on it.
“You’re kidding,” the stained-toga-wrapped god whispers as the implication sets in.
PEOPLE TEND TO ASSOCIATE ME ONLY WITH THE END OF LIFE. BUT, MY PURPOSE ALSO COVERS THE START.
The god’s eyes narrow as anger builds. Turning, he grabs a set of rolled parchments, unrolling them and slamming them on the table.
“There’s nothing in my father’s notes on needing a life hourglass when he created me!” Lord77 snarls, quickly reviewing the notes again.
WITH YOUR FATHER, MY INVOLVEMENT WAS AT THE VERY END. HE PROBABLY DIDN’T GO BACK AND EDIT THE NOTES, Death answers dispassionately. ALIKE YOU, HE THOUGHT HE COULD DO IT ALONE. SADLY, THE GREAT RANDOM DOESN’T WORK THAT WAY.
Slumping his shoulders, Lord77 turns towards the cloaked Reaper. “Fine,” he says dejectedly. “Do what you have to do.”
The hourglass begins to glow as Death extends his fleshless arm towards the silent figure. Emitting a short flash, the unit morphs from a simple, wooden unit to an ornate timepiece, base and top now armor plated with a bas relief across the front of the top depicting a mace while the side posts now are shaped in crossed swords.
Prominently placed on the bottom is a name plaque labeled “Adam77”.
“Very nice, but his name was supposed to be just ‘Adam’,” Lord77 states.
A GOD NAMING HIS FIRST CREATION ADAM? NOT VERY ORIGINAL. BESIDES, HE IS YOUR SEVENTY-SEVENTH ATTEMPT. IT SEEMS APPROPRIATE.
“Yeah, I guess,” Lord77 muses and is suddenly interrupted by sound and motion coming from the figure.
Blinking a few times, Adam77 takes a deep breath and then notices the god.
“My Lord!” the hero exclaims, dropping to a knee. “Thank you for giving me life! I shall do great things in your honor!”
“That’s fine, Adam. How about starting with building me a temple?” Lord77 responds looking around the rented room. “This place gives me claustrophobia.”
Jumping up, Adam77 races for the door. “Your request is my command, great one!” he yells and passing through, slams the door behind him.
Moments later, the hero’s voice is heard from the other side of the door.
“My Lord? Would it be acceptable to wait until sunrise? It’s a bit dark out here…”
Lord77 stands, shaking his head.
“That’s because you just entered the closet, you idiot,” the god barks. “While you’re in there, you might as well get dressed and arm yourself. Fighting monsters naked and barehanded is a sure way to test my resurrection skills.”
A series of thuds, crashes and “ouch” exclamations later, Adam77 exits the closet, clothed, armored and holding a sword in front of him with a what-is-becoming-normal confused look on his face.
“You stick the monsters with the pointy end,” Lord77 instructs, gaining an “Oh!” response from his hero.
Finally, Adam77 turns and quickly exits the room from the correct door to begin his quest.
“Was there something defective in that sand you put in his hourglass?” the god challenges.
NO. IT’S THE SAME LIFESAND THAT I USE FOR ALL CREATIONS, Death answers.
Lord77 facepalms. “Then, I’ve created a moron.”
A bony hand touches the god’s toga-sheet wrapped shoulder for reassurance.
HE WILL BE BRAVE, LOYAL, AND FEARLESS…, the dark-cloaked Reaper says as he fixes eyeless sockets on the lamenting god.
…BUT, I WOULDN’T COUNT ON YOUR TEMPLE BEING COMPLETED ANYTIME SOON.
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For more on the Saga of Adam77 and Friends, feel free to read through the Guild Name Forum., or better yet, the consolidated version on the Archive of our Own (AO3) website.