I knew things were getting out of hand when he named Carl the God of Wet Willies. Why in the name of all things holy would you even need a God of Wet Willies? Or a God of Cheese Cake, of Biscuits, or of Chess Boards for that matter? I was going to have to have yet another talk with the Khan, Erwin. This ridiculous idea that Keyne and his companions should be able to hand out divinity like mugs of mead was insane. God of Wet Willies indeed I thought as I stomped through the woods. I had spent the morning in my clearing by the stream meditating on what to do about this mess. I had gotten nowhere. What they needed was a Goddess of sweet tea and chicken and dumplings.
I had tried those once on a trip through the Americas and my taste buds had never been the same. Of course, no one else thought that those delicious southern staples were worth godliness. That’s only because they have never been to South Georgia. The place was a sweltering, humid, bug-infested utopia of food, scenery, and madness. A place worthy of even the most foolhardy of Gods. I can’t believe I had been unable to convince Keyne and his companions to visit the place. Sure, they would go to New England, that’s where the ships landed but going down the coast was too much to ask it seemed.
Some days I hate this job. Being the Oracle of The Isles of Mist, knowing all the things that could be and all the things that ever was is such a burden. A burden made all the heavier by that imbecile and his new-found power of godhood granting. The Khan had thrown me with that one. How had I missed the fact that he would do such a thing? Now not only did I have to fix the fact that there were, at last count, 48 thousand new gods in the pantheon. I also feared my powers were slipping. That was the far more troubling thing. Without my powers, I am no one. Keyne was always being an idiot and I was forever cleaning up his messes. Taking the powers of a few thousand new gods wasn’t the worse thing I had to do in the name of keeping order on our Hidden Isle.
Talking to Erwin about Keyne’s outlandish behavior NEVER accomplished anything. At this point, I wasn’t even sure why I bothered. Yes, I was, it was because talking to Keyne was worse. The stupid lout, you had to be willing to drink with him to get him to have the conversation and he took nothing seriously unless it was about his ax. I did not have the time or the patience to deal with him right now. I also could not find The Khan. I guess I’ll have to handle this myself.
I wandered around contemplating the best way to solve the problem. My thoughts keep getting jumbled with thoughts about his ax. About his ax…. there’s an idea. What if his ax ended up in some secluded area of South Georgia? He would go on a quest to find it and hopefully appoint someone’s grandmother as the Goddess of soul food in the process. This could work. I am a genius! Not only would this get Keyne out of the way while I dealt with all these new Gods and Goddesses. It would prove a point about acting in such as reckless manner. And maybe, just maybe some decent food would finally be served in the dining hall when he came back. But first, I needed a real plan.