Bas, The God of Dungeons for Pallimore, strode majestically down the hall in the Council building of the gods. Well, he attempted to stride majestically. Getting a good majestic stride going was just one of the many struggles of being a little person.

  Not that Bas would ever consider being anything other than a little person. Being a Little Person was a cornerstone of the personality that wielded the divine power that made up who he was. He had chosen this deliberately, as a message to the other gods who chose to “cure” themselves, and also to remind him of his roots.

  His current iteration was a combination of his favorite actors with dwarfism in Earth's pop culture, Danny DaVito, Peter Dinklege, and Warwick Davis. It was not a flattering combination. Nor was it meant to be. Again this was to act as a counterpoint to the gods who chose to make themselves supernaturally beautiful, as if that wasn’t an action of pure arrogance.

  Unfortunately some Olympians had managed to weasel their way onto the planet. Those types always got under his skin, not that his own kin were much better.

  He was proud to be a little person. Personally he thought the “little people” needed more gods on their side. But he was proud to be a little person and to show off the form that came with this condition. He thought he had a beautiful body.

  “Sir, your clothes again...” His assistant, Arthur Dresden, stated dryly.

  Bas looked down. He was back in his traditional loincloth from the old days again. With just a thought he was back in attire more suited to the counsel of gods for Pallimore.

  Arthur Dresden, who was the wielder of the Immortal Sword “Spellbreaker”, had the typical brown skin and pointed ears of the light elves.His near metallic gold hair marked his noble heritage of the summer courts. But the fact that his ears were slightly shorter than the average elf, and he lacked the fae’s typical preternatural beauty, betrayed him as a changeling commonly referred to as a half-elf.

  His golden hair was braided in cornrows on top with the braids continuing down to his shoulders where they ended with colorful beads tied into them that clacked when he walked. He was holding a crystal tablet, tapping at it with his left hand, which was covered in runic tattoos of different colors and textures.

  Beside the half-noble-half-elf walked the godkilling weapon he was bonded with. Currently in the form of an iron gray striped tabby. The only reason such a being was even allowed in the counsel of the gods was because he was bound to Arthur, who was bound to Bas through his contract of employment. A very useful technicality when the other gods lost their temper with him and started feeling stabby.

  On Bas’s left lay an expanse of incomprehensible darkness contained by a dark cloak. The hood of the cloak had the outlines of a face that appeared as though it was being formed by light casting shadows rather than formed from the darkness inside the cloak.

  Inky Whisperer-Of-Truths-In-Shadows was a void elemental and a respected companion. Bas valued his ability to gather and disseminate information, while also knowing what truths not to whisper.

  Bas did still find the elemental’s naming odd. It was a given or nickname, usually given by someone close to them, followed by their concept. But, then again, he came from a culture that preferred simple names, like Ra or Set, so he might be a bit biased.

  Bas smiled as he thought of the elemental he would soon see at the counsel meeting, Chipper Campfire-On-A-Dark-Night. Chipper was a little fire elemental. The sleek salamander would curl up in his lap and purr with the heat of a tiny hearth. She would radiate warmth and comfort as he watches her mother, Aurora, berate the other Gods. It would be the highlight of the meeting for him.

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  Then he frowned as he remembered what he was thinking about before he got pleasantly distracted.

  There was a problem with the Magic Interface System.

  The mortals advancement was starting to accelerate at a dangerous pace. Even with them trying to ship the high level class holders off the planet, the average person's mana density was rising. The control groups indicated they were approaching levels that would put the whole planet at risk.

  Between Pallimore’s absurdly high ambient mana levels and the potential power of its inhabitants, the planet was all but doomed unless something changed.

  “That’s a very serious face.” said the multi-colored cat floating right in front of Bas. “What are you thinking about, oh wise deity.”

  The cat's sudden floating appearance did not startle the god. He did not jump in surprise. He had hopped. Gods were not surprised, and little people had been known to hop on occasion.

  “They still haven’t added those moving airport walkways I told them about.” Bas said gruffly.

  The council hall of the gods was a collective construct. It was less a real place and more of a group project. All the gods on some level agreed to the building’s design. Bas had submitted the airport walkways update decades ago .

  “Can’t you just appear wherever you want to here?” The Cat said, his fur shifting from pink and purple, to blue and gray, then black and white.

  “And shouldn’t you be with your dungeon core, Cheshire? She should be reintegrating into the MIS soon, shouldn’t she?” Arthur chimed in, frowning at Cheshire.

  “I like to walk before counsel meetings.” Bas said, cutting off the floating cat's response. “Why are you here Cheshire?”

  “I just wanted to ask you a question, old friend.” He answered with his trademark grin before it dropped off his face.

  “I’m not about to lead this girl off a cliff am I?” The normally animated cat asked seriously.

  The god of dungeons paused. He had to tread carefully here. Cheshire was an ally and something of a friend. However, only a fool underestimated a tulpa that was able to escape their bubble of reality.

  “I swear to you on my title as god of dungeons that I will do everything in my power to insure the young woman's soul comes to no harm.” Bas solemnly swore.

  The oaths of gods were binding. At their level of power it was nearly impossible for them to break their oaths. Doing so wouldn’t just be devastating to them but all who followed them.

  “You know that is all I have the authority to do. But I can also offer you this. Inky if you wouldn’t mind telling him what you found out?” The god continued.

  An eerie voice emitted from their shadows.

  “If you can keep your more chaotic disposition in check, you will be the best mentor for Holly Rose Penhaligan. But if you can not, then it will lead not only to the destruction of her core, but also potentially all of Pallimore.” The voice whispered.

  “So nothing all that important,” The color changing cat chuckled, “it’s just one planet.”

  “Cheshire, you know how important the Magic Interface System is.” Bas said.

  “And you're going to tell me you don’t have a back up? Not to mention the control planet.” Cheshire shot back.

  “The back-ups aren’t ready yet and the system on the control plant is… developing problems related to having the planet rebooted so many times. We would like to avoid that problem with Pallimore.” Arthur explained.

  The cat's rictus grin shrunk marginally.

  “Ahh that does put things into perspective. No pressure then.” The now black and white cat said as the portions of his body started to turn translucent. Beginning at his tale and moving up.

  Cheshire turned to Spellbreaker and nodded his head at the feline shaped sword. Magical cats had their own etiquette, one that even swords who preferred to look like a cat couldn’t ignore. Spellbreaker understood, as well as any cat, the levels of spite a feline is capable of when they felt they had been wronged. So he graciously nodded back at his fellow feline as his rings of black fur began to drift off and dissipate like smoke rings. The last thing to disappear was his wide grin.