I am the EVIL stew goblin!! I make EVIL stew!!! Some EVIL may
contain content not suitable for goody goody children!!! I am as old as EVIL itself, so over 18.
the War Council meeting was held in the conference room at Town Hall.
i stood at the podium, fussing with the laptop on the card table next to me. i had hooked it up to the projector with an HDMI, but for some reason, the connection wouldn't take.
"o Holy Mayor, i just don't understand," said one of my advisors, Stradivarius, from his folding chair in the middle row. "what's your plan for taking out the Goblin Kingdom, exactly? i get that you're going to use the Thermos, and that you're being guided by the righteous will of God and all that. it would just be nice to know the plan, is all."
"agreed," said Rogelio, a member of the Priesthood. "we must make sure the interests of the Church are adequately represented."
"does the Church dare to question the Messiah?" sneered Apocryphina, who represented the Council of Elders. "you of the cloth have gone astray of the ancient way and diverged from the Path of God. soon you will have your reckoning. so saith the Prophet!"
"can someone help me with this?" i asked. "i can't get my laptop to connect to the projector."
"is the projector turned on?" ventured Paprika, the Town Council representative, from the front row.
i looked and saw that it was not.
hiding my utter mortification beneath a brittle veneer of keeping-it-together, i chuckled, and said, "oh, i guess it wasn't. my bad. sorry, everyone."
but no one cared. they were too busy arguing.
"hey! come on, guys. it's meeting time," i said.
begrudgingly, they quieted.
"i made a PowerPoint," i said. "i hope you find it sufficient. it's, uh—well, you'll see what it is."
at a click, the title page of my PowerPoint went up on the projector screen behind me. written in colorful text on a bright yellow background in wavy WordArt font, it said:
my visions of victory over the Goblin Army
a PowerPoint prophecy
by: Rodrigo :-)
i clicked from the title page to the first slide:
1: Goblins will besiege all cities throughout the land
Goblin Kingdom NOT deterred by threat of Holy Thermos!!!
they will attack the towns and villages surrounding Ursanuma
devouring the young of the livestock, crops of the land, etc.
i said, "the Goblin Army may be deterred from attacking Ursanuma for the time being, but they won't sit idly after such a blow to their pride. they'll start attacking neighboring villages. they may have even started already."
i clicked to the next slide.
2: the kings of the earth shall be afraid
the leaders of the other towns and villages will reach out to Ursanuma for help defending themselves against the many-headed Lion of Blasphemy (aka Goblin army)
they will rally behind the righteous will of God and the awesome power of the Holy Thermos
i said, "and the leaders of those villages will reach out to us for help defending themselves. they know of the Thermos, the power our village wields, and right now they fear to associate with us. but when the time comes, they will reach out to us, and become our allies."
i clicked to the next slide.
3: and the believers of the land will be united under the banner of Pulundi
we will march on the Goblin Kingdom, and surround their castle
armed with our Holy Weapon
and destroy their kingdom in the name of our God
i said, "while the Goblin forces are split between their own lands and ours, we will invade the Goblin Kingdom, and use the Thermos to destroy it from within. according to my visions and the word of God Itself, this will be a victory for us."
i clicked to the next slide.
4: a strange-faced moon rises over a field of blooming red
to be honest, i don't really know what this part of the vision means
it always comes after the visions of our victory at the Goblin Castle
??????? probably not a bad omen
"admittedly," i said, "this part is weird. i don't know what it means. but it always comes after we win, so... it's probably not bad?"
even as i spoke the words, i felt doubt. there was something unmistakably menacing about that leering moon. how it had risen over a field of nebulous red that seemed almost alive, almost breathing. exhaling waves of mysterious particulate into the undulating midnight breeze.
but on the other hand... God had told me not to worry. and wasn't that the essence of faith, to hold to your beliefs in times of doubt? yes. faith without doubt was merely infatuation.
"so faith has to be blind?"
the voice of Cornelius echoed in my head, a memory. he had said that once, when the topic of faith had come up between us.
i don't remember what i said in response. something to the effect of yes. and Cornelius said, "then i guess we should be really careful about who we put our faith in."
i was jarred from my reverie by the voice of Rogelio.
"hold on now. the Church does a lot of trade with the Goblin Kingdom. are we sure God wants us to destroy it?"
"yes," i said. "God has been excruciatingly clear on the matter."
"okay," said Rogelio. "but what if instead, we offer them a peace deal?"
"they won't accept a peace deal," said Paprika. "they're Goblins."
"do we know that, though?" asked Stradivarius. "have we tried?"
"we do what God wants," said Apocryphina. "o Holy Mayor, don't waste your time paying heed to these petty squabbles. go forth and prepare for war. the Old Way has dawned on the world anew; the Word of God is law."
i had to admit, Apocryphina had a point. or, at the very least, all that stuff she said was kind of what my whole platform as Holy Mayor was built on.
i said, "while i would love it if we had the time, resources, and security to try out peaceful solutions just to see if they work, we don't. we're fighting a war that we're not in any shape to win, but for the power that God has graciously bestowed upon us."
"didn't God also start the war?" asked Stradivarius.
i thought for a moment. "i think the Evil Stew Goblin did, actually. but that's irrelevant. even if God had started the war it wouldn't change anything. we are still beholden to It's will. we will carry out the commands of Pulundi to the letter."
later that night, alone at the Holy Mayoral Manor, i reflected on that decision. i was full of doubt. and more than just doubt. resentment, too. i resented Pulundi for what It was making me do. i resented the fact that i felt i had no choice. that was the sickening thing—the feeling of being caged. even by my own faith, a thing that had once brought me joy. a cage was a cage.
how could a mere mortal defy the will of a powerful God?
The Dark Loon couldn't believe his eyes or ears as he shifted eagerly up in the rafters above the meeting, only barely escaping being heard due to all of the squabbling below.
He thinks to himself. Pulundi wants this war? It is his will? What Pulundi wants is genocide!
The Dark Loon cracks a sinister smile from within his darkly colored, moon shaped mask. Pulundi wants genocide? He will get it. A shame really. The Dark Loon was looking forward to tormenting these amigos for a long time to come. Perhaps the boss back home will let him keep some of them alive for that reason? If not they'll taste good in some bear stew at the very least.
Later that night, a loud, hurried knocking is heard at Rodrigo's door...
the knocking did not wake me. it was half past two, but i was still up, ruminating and staring pensively out of the large bay window in my office. the moon was half-full and low in the starry sky, near to setting. despite it's undeniable beauty, the tableau disturbed me. it reminded me of the Choosing, the visions i saw during my brush with death.
the knocking came again, insistent. i felt a chill. i found myself suddenly wishing i wasn't alone.
you are not alone, said the familiar voice of God inside my head, for I and My Holy Power dwell within you.
that was true. however i might be feeling about Pulundi right now, i was still It's vassal, and It's Holy Power would keep me safe.
when the knocking started up for a third time, i opened the door.
Shibboleth of the Soup, part 2—
a Lesson Already Learned
"this is the poison of the Enemy, Rodrigo," Apocryphina said, looking down at me as i writhed on the cold stone dais. "it is the essence of Evil. the one who leads us must be strong enough to endure it, or they shall be no leader at all."
my vision was fading, but i tried to fight it, to move my head and look around, to stay alert. stay alive.
but my vision was fading.
there had to be something i could do. this was supposed to be a trial, wasn't it? the Soup God had said so Itself. so there had to be something i could do.
but what?
i thought of what the Soup God had told me.
"it is a lesson you have already learned."
the poison from the Evil Stew burned as it coursed through my body, its deadly acids eating through membrane and organ tissue. dissolving my insides. killing me.
i thought back to my time in the Holy Stockpot. the Broth dissolving me, how unspeakably painful it had been. how it felt just like what i was experiencing now.
and suddenly i understood what i was supposed to do.
the temple echoed with the chanting of the congregation. "Pulundi seva novati! Pulundi Asmis narrathat! Pulundi seva novati! Pulundi Asmis narrathat!"
they were vicious words. bloodthirsty. words with death inscribed upon the pillars of their ancient meaning.
the people wanted death, fine. i would give them what they wanted. the people in the temple, the Soup God, even the Evil Stew Goblin. i would give them all what they wanted.
i stopped fighting. i let my body go limp against the cold stone surface of the dais. my breathing slowed. the chanting around me began to fade until it was gone, leaving nothing in my ears but the sound of my own pulse. that rhythm, which i had thought of as inexorable, a relentless and tormenting force—it wasn't, after all. it was a candle's flame in the wind. ephemeral. liable cease without warning in an instant. and each second of its continued duration was utterly and unimaginably precious.
i stood upon the dais, looking out to the audience, the congregation who had gathered in the temple to watch the Choosing. none of them were watching now. they had all bowed their heads, faces downturned in a picture of religious solemnity. i searched the crowd for a pair of eyes. someone to look at. to look to. but there was no one.
it was so quiet i could hear the fire behind me crackling, and the subtle blub-blub-blub of the simmering cauldron. my pulse pounded in my ears, a whoosh like ocean waves in rapid tandem with silence. a rhythm, inexorable.
and i remembered what the Soup God said to me:
"it is a lesson you have already learned."
"the signs are clear!" Apocryphina cried out from behind me, her voice age-withered but her speech strong and sure. "the Soup God has spoken. it is time for us to return to the Ancient Way. thus we commence the revival of Gier Agalit—the Choosing!"
the people did not applaud, but showed their assent in the custom of the temple: by chanting the sacred words, and making with their hands the sacred symbols of Pulundi. words and signs known in their exactitude only by the people of our faith. the shibboleth of the Soup.
"Rodrigo Borgia," continued Apocryphina, pointing a finger at me. "it is said that you have been called upon by the Soup God. tell me—are the rumors true?"
and i knew that this was not a real question, but part of the ritual. and i said, "only those who look upon the Soup can describe its roiling topography."
"Pulundi seva novati," chanted the crowd. only the Soup-That-Is-God knows.
"Rodrigo Borgia," Apocryphina said again. "they say you are the Bouillon al-Gaib; the foretold Messiah, who will lead our people to glorious victory of conquest in the name of our God! tell me—are the rumors true?"
and i said, "none but God's chosen can say what the soup of the morrow shall be."
"and are you not God's chosen?" said Apocryphina. "are you not a prophet, the Seer of the Holy Stockpot?"
and i made with my hands the sacred signs, and i said, "Pulundi seva novati."
and Apocryphina nodded, and said, "Pulundi Asmis narrathat." the Soup-That-Is-God shall tell us.
and the congregation chanted, "Pulundi seva novati! Pulundi Asmis narrathat!"
"Rodrigo Borgia!" Apocryphina called out for a third time. "show us if you are God's chosen. step forth, and drink of the Soup in the cauldron."
before i could move, two Soup Acolytes grabbed me by the arms, while a third filled a bowl with Soup from the cauldron. well, a bowl of what i had thought was Soup. but when they brought it to me i saw that it was actually........
EVIL POISON STEW!!!!!
OH NO!!!!!
i struggled against the restraining grip of the Acolytes, but it did me no good. there were too many of them. and besides, i had never been much of a fighter.
they forced back my head, forced my jaws open, and poured the Evil Poison Stew right down my throat while i struggled and kicked and choked.
all the while, the congregation chanted, "Pulundi seva novati! Pulundi Asmis narrathat!"
and the Acolytes released me. and i stumbled forward upon the dais and fell to my hands and knees, struck with a terrible feeling of sickness as that unholy poison, that venom of Satan's own blood, began its course through my veins.
moving to stand over me, looking down with the barest hint of a smile on her wizened face, Apocryphina said, "this is the poison of the Enemy, Rodrigo. it is the essence of Evil. the one who leads us must be strong enough to endure it, or they shall be no leader at all."
on the day of the Choosing, the whole village gathered in the temple. the excess of their numbers spilled out onto the temple's columned portico and down the steps, like soup spilling out of an overflowing pot to pool into a sizzling puddle on the stove.
sizzling was the right word. the throng on the steps was abuzz, chatting animatedly, the air electric with the thrill of their collective anticipation. some were singing. others merely spoke in singsong voices, or swigged from flasks and made giddy proclamations about new eras and the superiority (souperiority) of the Soup God.
i made my way up the steps behind them. heads turned. silence spread over the crowd like a pall as i approached. they bowed their heads and parted to let me pass.
i walked up the steps and crossed the portico to the temple's entrance, with its great double-doors that had been propped open for the occasion. inside, it was full of music, and chanting, and chatter. the alcoves were lined with tall, dripping candles and bundles of smoking incense. on the recessed floor of the inner sanctum, people held hands and danced the Iusalli while others played instruments. the high, vaulted ceiling echoed with the wailing of horns and the melodic tattoo of tabla drums.
again, heads turned as people started to notice me. and again, a hush spread over the crowd until it became a silence that permeated everything. and the people in the temple bowed their heads, and parted, and made a path before me.
i felt the closeness of the people gathered behind me. a density of people, a wall.
a wall behind me and a path before me, i thought. no way out and only one way forward.
an excerpt from the second prophecy came to my mind, unbidden:
they made for the canary a procession
to celebrate his crowning as their king
and marched him on in fetters; and possessed him;
and locked him in a gilded cage to sing
i suppressed a shudder. nothing about that prophecy boded well for me—or the world. but it was too late to change course. the Seals had been opened. the dominoes had already started to fall.
there was no way to go but forward.
i started to walk. people on both sides of the narrow aisle reached out to touch me as i passed. it kinda freaked me out tbh, but i let them do it anyway because i am nice. :)
the path lead me to the foot of a raised dais at the other end of the temple, upon which the Grand Elder Apocryphina stood, waiting. a great cauldron sat simmering above a great fire beside her.
her smile was almost menacing. "welcome, prophet," she said. "the Soup is ready for you."
my phone broke halfway up the mountain to the EVIL DRAGON LAIR and it’s taken a bit to locate my EVIL SPARE (not real) to sum up my EVIL ESCAPADES, I’VE ACQUIRED EVIL DRAGON BLOOD AND EVIL DRAGON BONES FOR MY EVIL BONE BROTH!!!
SOUP ENJOYERS BEWARE YOUR IMPENDING STEW!!!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAGAHAHAHACKHACKACKCOUGH
why can I never do evil laughs the one thing we’re supposed to be known for how do I turn this off oh here we go
i started with making a classic mirepoix (carrot, celery, onion, butter/olive oil) and added tomato paste (i used the italian flavored canned paste but regular stuff would be good too i bet) and then i added a load of garlic (i wouldve added more but again, vibes (and this was for my poor sickly wife (she has a mild fever))) and then covered it with chicken broth
the rest is literally just add based on cook time
we got potatoes, peas, corn, trader joe's harvest blend, pasta, trader joe's umami seasoning, thyme, and egg (for the egg i did basically egg drop soup style
add salt to your liking and god damn this shit is divine
anyways i can give estimates for how much i used but that was yesterday its not gonna be accurate lmao
on the night before the Choosing, i filled my stockpot with the Soup of Prayer, and prostrated myself before it.
"help me, Lord," i said to the Soup God. "help me find the strength to accept the future i see laid out before me. help me find the strength to bear the weight that You would place upon my shoulders. that feeling that i was filled with when i opened those Holy Seals... that love... where has it gone? let me be filled with it again, o Lord."
as i uttered these words i felt the all-too-familiar pang in the space just behind my sternum—the pain of loneliness, disconnectedness. i longed for connection. but i was so isolated now that only one avenue remained to me: the Tiluqsui. the Broth-Dao.
and the Lord said, "if you wish to proceed, to fulfill the destiny that I have Proscribed for you, you must find within yourself a source of strength."
"i know that, o Lord," i said, unable to keep the edge of irritation out of my tone. "that is what You are supposed to be for, isn't it?"
and the Lord said, "any person may be lead to the Pot of God, but none can be made to lift the ladle and serve themselves from it. that, they must do of their own accord, in their own time."
"but i have served myself from it, have i not, o Lord?" i demanded. "yes, i have served myself from it. time and time again i have served myself from it. and time and time again my bowl was filled with naught but sorrow and pain! sorrow and pain and... and..."
and the Tiluqsui.
"and sweetness," i said. "a precious sweetness, rare but so exceedingly rich. i do not deny that sweetness, Lord. i ask only to taste it again."
and the Lord said, "when a general conscripts her infantry, she gives unto them not arms alone. but also gives unto them blankets that they may keep warm in the night; and food, that they may be sustained on their long marches. so too have I given these alms in their equivalent unto you, Rodrigo."
"then show me where they are," i pleaded. "show me how to use them!"
and the Lord said, "I have."
upon hearing the Lord's Words, i was struck with a sudden gestalten understanding. i was filled with awe. and all i could manage to say in response was:
and the signs from God were clear
and they signaled to us that it was time to return to the Ancient Ways
"we will hold a Choosing," Apocryphina had announced. as the eldest Elder of the village, her word was as good as law. "we will do it in the Ancient Way. if the Soup accepts Rodrigo, we will consecrate him, and he will be Holy Chieftain."
the villagers, overall, seemed thrilled at the prospect. some so much so that they were driven to the point of a rambling, religious hysteria. (i think they are still a little "drunk on the wine of God," if you know what i mean.) even Stradivarius seemed pleased, having come around once the bureaucratic complications that arose from the addition of my seat of office were sorted out (complicated and boring, but will explain later if anyone is interested.)
in contrast, i felt myself coming to resent the idea more and more as the day of the Choosing approached. i did not want to be Holy Chieftain. i did not want to be in charge of the village, responsible for the lives of everyone in it! and anyway, the job was a real bureaucratic nightmare, so there was that too.
"but what if the Soup doesn't... accept you?" asked my friend Cornelius one day while we were hanging out. "what if it rejects you or whatever? does that mean... you're not gonna, like, die, are you?"
and i heard real concern in his voice, for he was my true friend, and dear to me. but the truth was, i did not know what would happen if the Soup did not accept me. if i would die, or... something worse.
or something better, the optimistic part of my brain feebly chimed in. maybe nothing will happen at all, and this Holy Chieftain thing will be over, and everything will go back to the way it was before.
but Cornelius—poor Cornelius; dear, sweet Cornelius—interpreted my silence as confirmation of that which he most feared. and he exclaimed a great exclamation of sorrow, and said: "Rodrigo, you must not do this thing!"
and, with sorrow of my own, i said, "ah, but you are wrong, Cornelius. i must do this thing. above all other things, i must do this thing."
"but why?" Cornelius demanded. "why would you risk your life for—?"
"Cornelius," i cut him off. "this is not the first time i have risked my life in the name of Soup. and i do not think it will be the last."
i looked into Cornelius' eyes, hoping to find some connection there. but all i saw was hurt and anger. and Cornelius looked away from me. and in that moment i felt my heart shatter.
this wretched mission of the Soup God's had already cost me so much. and now it was costing me Cornelius, too.
turning away from him, i said, "you do not understand, Cornelius. you are just a wizard. a god is nothing more than a rune on a rock-face to you. a page in a theurgy text. an item in a list. but my God means something to me, Cornelius. you never have been able to understand that. or maybe you do understand and you just won't accept it. i'm not sure. but i guess the distinction doesn't really matter. the barrier it puts between us is the same either way."
Cornelius looked at me, and i saw by the tightening of the dorsal muscles around his murine snout that he was angry. "you think i'm the reason there's a barrier between us? like it's got nothing to do with your emotional unavailability, or your weird codependent relationship with God, or your stupid obsession with soup!"
a look of regret crossed Cornelius' face the moment the words left his mouth. but he did not backpedal or apologize. he adopted a resigned expression, and maintained his silence.
after a moment i rose from the couch and walked over to the window. i stood with my back to Cornelius, looking out at my yard and the dirt road beyond it, the lemon and olive trees of the village orchards visible in the distance, the outer wall repaired and standing high behind the tree line.
"they would make an Atlas of me, Cornelius," i said. "they would place the world upon my shoulders. and when i cannot bear the weight of it, when it all inevitably comes crashing down, they will point at me and say, 'there is him who failed his charge! everything's wrecked and it's all his fault!'"
"who?" Cornelius asked quietly. "who will say that? who is doing all of this stuff to you, Rodrigo?"
and i turned and looked at him, and my heart was full of bittersweetness. and i said, "everyone but you, my dear Cornelius."
hmmm.... well... i suppose it is the least i can do after all that stuff with the earthquake and the meteors.
fine. you can have some. but only a LITTLE BIT! a thimbleful. enough to taste, but not enough to use for any of your infamous hijinks and machinations. here, i am putting it in the mail now (in a sealed container of course, not actually a thimble).
good thing there is no one around, so there is no chance anyone stole more of the soup while my back was turned! it sure is nice that that is the case right now.
and i knew the name Bouillon al-Gaib, and what it was my people referred to in calling me thus.
you see, in my culture/religious practice, there is this adage that foretells the coming of one called the Bouillon al-Gaib. the name can only be roughly translated from Ancient Bear Latin (it doesn't have great cross-compatibility with English) but basically it means "the Messiah who is his own Prophet."
(side note: for anyone curious, the literal translation is "Broth (with the connotation of wrathful righteousness, like when you throw it in the face of someone who has wronged you) from Broth (with the connotation of clairvoyance, like when you look into the broth.)")
i call it an adage because the version of it that my people know is too barebones (or should i say bear-bones, haha!) to be a true prophecy. which i only know because i saw the full breadth of that prophecy when i was dissolved in the Holy Stockpot.
it had been my second vision—the second prophecy. but it had all seemed so abstract when i had witnessed it, so fantastical. i never could have imagined any of it had anything to do with me. after all, i was just a prophet. a seer. a Holy Witness, sharing in the vision of God.
but that God wanted more from me. and so did everyone else.
and thus they were elated, and thus they fell at my feet, and cried out, "Bouillon al-Gaib, the Messiah, the Prophet King, who shall lead us from the dryness and fill our bowls with the Soup of God!"
and i said to my people, "i may be a prophet, but i am no king. my only powers are to See and to make soup. i have not the skills to be a leader of people."
one of the Village Elders approached me. her name was Apocryphina, and she was the eldest of all the Elders, the most in-charge. and she said:
"we will hold a Choosing. we will do it in the Ancient Way. if the soup favors Rodrigo, then he shall be anointed with the Seven Broths, and instated as Holy Chieftain."
"hold on now," said another guy, whose name was Stradivarius. "we haven't had a Holy Chieftain for a hundred years. a lot has changed since then. now we have the Housing Initiative, and the Co-op. and what's gonna happen with the Town Committee? how does a Holy Chieftain fit into that, you know, power-structure wise?"
"the signs from God are clear," said Apocryphina. "it is time for us to return to the Ancient Ways. i know the prophet agrees with me."
and i sighed, for i did agree. and because i did agree, my heart was full of sadness. after all, i had seen visions of these events that i was now living out. i knew where these roads ended. i had seen where they ended, that terrible place...
but who could fight the inexorable will of the Soup God?
I must have underestimated that damn thermos! I hate to say it, but this soup prophet’s empty rhetoric may not be so empty! GRRR, IT MAKES ME FURIOUS! He’s lucky I’m stuck in this EVIL HOSPITAL WITH THIS EVIL CAST ON MY EVIL LEG!!! I’ve paid the wizard to come by and heal it proper, but that may be a bit.
my army has been torn to shreds!! Everyone who did survive is demanding workplace incident compensation!!! I’ve been signing paperwork all day!!!
Evil Stew Goblin, I'm sending some of my goblins over there to help with cleanup and as reinforcements. They're bringing payment to help with your workers too.
All I ask for in return is make a stew with this weird purple mushroom. Trust me, it has a lot of power. Something that could potentially rival that thermos...
Ohohohoho! You most certainly have my interest! And you have my EVIL thanks for the reinforcements!
might I ask where you got the mushroom? I must know what to pair with it! Should I add more mushrooms? or a choice of meat and a variety of vegetables? Both? Oh the possibilities! I would be more than happy to take this EVIL mushroom off your hands!!!
I do believe there are some around! My EVIL goblin dad bought me squig dice when I was a wee lad. They were bouncy, always landed on threes or fours, and were an exceptionally good chew toy. For myself. I would chew on them. I was 14.
Dragon’s Blood, you say?! Hoo boy, that sounds like an excellently EVIL thickener! I’d like the bones too for broth if at all possible! Where is this dragon?
Squig Dice! Such a rare breed! I haven't seen those around in ages!
As for the dragon, the nearest one is just beyond the moldy lands. Only problem is the git is not only dangerous in itself, but the orc boss over there has him as his personal pet, and he already doesn't really like me. We'll have to EVILLY stab him first.
hmmm I’ll have to wrestle up my EVIL minions, it seems. And also get out of the hospital. I’m starting to think the wizard may have just taken my EVIL money and ran.
