A 7-post collection

Challenge #02890-G333: With Double-edged Blade

People call them the Judge. There are other nicknames for this being, of course. Justice. Equalizer. Balance. Redemption. All of these and more their names are through all eternity. A being who watches the world feeling no pain nor pleasure at what is seen. A being who feels no love, nor do they feel hate. They can feel respect, and honor. Kindness and compassion. But also can they feel disappointment and anger. Their job, from the time of their creation, was to be called upon when two individuals had a dispute. But, this being, it was dangerous to call upon them. For their judgments were final, no recourse once it was called out, and the judgments always came true. The ritual to summon the eternal Judge still existed, though most thought it mere myth and faerie tale now. Until that fateful day. The child was thin, was injured, desperate and despairing. A mere beggar in the streets that the entire village ignored, one of many orphans left to such a sad fate. They called out to the gods, a plea to speak to the Judge. The village needed to learn the value of an innocent heart. -- Anon Guest

A measure each of cold grave soil,
Of sweat wrought in honest toil,
Defeat's ashes, winnow'd in winds of change,
And innocent blood, shed from rage... -- from the nursery rhyme How to Summon Justice

They'd beaten her for no reason. Again. Until she fled once more to the shelter of the abandoned temple. Nobody else dared enter that tumbled ruin, and she reasoned that it had to be bad, just like her. She had to be bad, otherwise why would they hurt her like they did?

There was an old god in there. Abandoned and forgotten like their temple. Stiff and straight and faded. Paint that had once made it colourful was so flaked off that the underlying stone was all but bare. She had to crawl through quite the labyrinth just to reach it, but the place where the god still stood was sheltered and out of the weather. She had made her camp -her home- there.

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Challenge #02489-F299: When the Eternal Fall

A small obscure hamlet, in which lay a small obscure place of worship. No grand temple, no eldritch altar, just a house-shaped spot to contemplate, to speak to the divine, and hope maybe some part of its multifaceted majesty heard. But here we see it as empty, looking as if no mortal foot had trod here in quite a while, or perhaps as if one had yet to do so.

A god came to the chapel one day long ago, or perhaps

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Challenge #01701-D240: Chosen by Disorder

"When chaos bears fruit, you eat first and think about the stomach ache later." -- RecklessPrudence

It was the only tree that grew sideways. Its leaves were purple. Its fruit was a shade of pink never seen in nature. But this... was not natural. This was a tree that grew in the Realm of Disorder. It stood still in the wind and waved when it was calm. And whenever it rained[1], it danced.

The Lord of Disorder held a Fruit Party

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Challenge #01650-D189: Not the Usual Madness

And so tired of the Mad God's priestess falling for Hero du Jour and grabbing the priceless treasure and buggering off to live with Hero type. So! what if your Mad God was just annoyed that "Nobody Listens to Me!" - random thoughts on popular Barbarian fiction. -- Knitnan

The temple of Sargax the Mad God was silent. Eerily silent. The walls were furnished in sculpted felt and the floor was made out of cork. Nidrus the Mighty could not still the

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Challenge #01649-D188: What a God Wants

I was destined to be the priestess of a mad God. What they didn't tell me was that instead of slaughtering people I'd be making Him a nice cup of tea and telling him it would be all right. -- Knitnan

I'd always wondered why the High Holies of the Mad God Zhyruq selected the kind and sympathetic to be their acolytes. Every year, they chose amongst their number the trainee they found to be the kindest, most generous, and most sympathetic.

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Challenge #01394-C299: Gods Grant It

In some religious systems the ruling Deity 'rides' or speaks through a member of the congregation. Like Lois McMasters Bujold's "Saints" I wonder if it's more of a problem than an honour. -- Anon Guest

[AN: I firkin LOVE anything written by Lois McMasters Bujold]

One good thing about taking shelter in an abandoned temple, Josephine mused, was that one was technically close to the gods. She'd prayed at half of those altars in the dead of the night. And now, at

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Challenge #01378-C283: Heavenly Host

http://callmegallifreya.tumblr.com/post/151095300715/deliverusfromsburb-gods-falling-in-love-with The god that adopts a ton of kids

1) In the beginning. Stupid mistakes, awkward moments, working out what to do and what to tell the kid

2) Later. There's a horde of them, some of them have grown up and left but there's always more that need help. -- Anon Guest

[AN: this puts the gap count down to TWO]


Hestatus, God of home and hearth, used to be a minor god. And

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