“No?” OK, I'm a little flabbergasted by how hard they shot that down.

Air sighs, “OK, look you're young.”

“Practically a baby, compared to us. You've got… what, thirty, forty years as a mortal and a few weeks as one of us?” Water adds.

Earth continues, “... while we've been at this for as many or more millennia as you have years.  You just don't understand how…”

Air's turn to blow hot air, “... unimportant they are, individually. What's it matter if a few thousand of them don't get to die of old age?”

Water is back at bat to erode my opinion of my new siblings, “Most of them won't anyway. Really, if we didn't direct a war, they'd find something else to kill each other over soon enough.”

Earth continues the avalanche, “It's happened a zillion times. And most of them won't die…”

Air's at it again, “... they'll be captured as war booty and made into bondsmen for a couple of decades. Meanwhile, we'll be centuries at cleaning the poison they spewed out into the air…”

Earth's out of sequence, “... and the ground…”

Water picks up, “ ... and the water.  And the longer we let it go on…”

Air keeps pressing the point, “... the worse it will get. So no, we're not going to wait a few more years.”

And Earth takes another turn, “Because it's gone on far too long already. We would have done this centuries ago when it started to get bad but…”

Water's up, apparently, “... that rat of sister of ours was choking us out and had a demon of a champion.”

“Thank you for getting rid of him and setting us back to full power, by the way.” Oh Air… your beak doesn't smile, but I can tell….

These people are really on the same wavelength. Such a pity it's so uncaring. Am I going to get that hard of heart? “Didn't you just say you used to be mortal?”

Earth laughs, “That was a long time ago.”

Air actually caws, “We have little in common with those worms anymore.”

Water smiles, “You'll grow up eventually, little sister.”

I certainly hope not, if you're what it means to be an adult, “I suppose that's it, then.”

Air bows theatrically, spreading her wings, “Then until the winds bring us together again,” and vanishes.

“May the currents always be favorable, little sister,” Water's parting words, obviously, as she too vanishes.

Earth laughs, “such drama queens.” And then he too is gone.

… and I feel like crying. “Death… Comforter… I could use… I need…” and before I can properly phrase it, there's two black clawed hands wrapped around me in a simple hug.

They're shaking, though. I look up at my brother. He's a lighter shade of black, his twin voids are closed, his breathing is ragged, and he's got quite the death grimace. Wait… is that why his office is tiny while mine… and he came anyway… “How about we do this at your place?”

“Yes please,” he stutters out, and then we are back in his office. And my brother’s breathing starts to even out.

I hug him back until he stops shaking, “So that's why your office is so small… you're agoraphobic… and you came anyway?”

Death collects himself, “Huh. You have a word for it, with tied implications that it's an understood, treatable disease. That's…” he shakes his head, “... such a wonderful world you came from. But yes. You're family. You were hurting. I could help. What more is there?”

That's… “You’re probably the most selfless person I've met in this world.”

Death shakes his horned head, causing his flaming ‘hair’ to flare up a little, “We're all supposed to be… and all of us were, to one extent or another.  Which you can check if you like.  Look in the histories,” my brother points a black clawed hand at his bookshelf.

I walk over and grab his history volume, focusing on the story of Earth's ascention… and get a blank page.  Frowning, I repeat the process for Water, Air, Death, and even myself, to the same result. “Am I not able to use your books anymore?”

Death frowns briefly, then his face lights up, and he chuckles, “You are able, because I pointed you at them… but tell me: What were you looking up?”

My turn to frown, “The obvious: Earth's ascension to diety-hood. When that didn't work I checked Air, Water, and both of us, to the same result.”

The Comforter laughs, “Obvious, yes. That doesn't work. These books are a gift from Dad. You need to think about things from His perspective.”

“His perspective…” I try checking on their empowerment, uplifting, raising… nothing.

My brother chuckles, and adds emphasis, “The perspective of our FATHER.”

Oh. I get it. I look up Earth's ADOPTION, and find myself reading an engrossing and uplifting handwritten story of a man who gave up basically everything to help a neighboring tribe recover from an avalanche that wrecked their homes.  I look up Water's adoption, and find a similarly well written story of a woman who saved a family from a shipwreck. Air? She helped folks through a windstorm; I find I'm reading for hours, and am glad for the lack of time passing everywhere else due to Dad's gift of communication between deities.

Wait… ‘handwritten’?  I flip over to the history of the saddle, and get dull, matter-of-fact printed data that looks like it came off of a machine. The founding of the nation my avatar is currently in? Likewise: Dull, typed facts. History of dungeon delving? Same.

Seeing me jump back and forth, Death chuckles, “So you noticed that too, then?”

“Yes… for most things, it's simply printed information. Our history is an exquisitely crafted story, penned by hand, through the loving eyes of a proud father.”

My brother nods, “Indeed. I'm curious… are the stories in your books the same?”

I have another me check, and give him an answer, “Yes and no. They describe the same events, and they agree with each other in all respects… but they're distinct works of art.  If anything mine is more compelling….”

The man in the room with me nods, “...because it was written for YOU. That's about what I figured. Dad's like that.”

“That… makes me think I should read my own story at some point.”

The Comforter smiles upon me, “Yes… I tried looking up my own story once… you absolutely should. But not now.”

I sigh, “Right, work to do. Thank you again, brother.”

Death nods, “Be seeing you….”

Back at my temporary residence, I consider: If I want everyone here to live through this, I either need to evacuate everyone, get them all to leave their lives behind and start anew elsewhere… yeah, no.  While I'm sure I could get many to flee, I can't do that with everyone unless I make myself the villain and do it by force. And I really, really don't want to do that. Most of these people are just regular folk trying to make a living.

So that leaves option two.

I Fabricate more platinum invitation cards, wrap them in paper, seal them in wax, and summon more angels to deliver them, this time instructing them to require a reply, and even providing them with pen, parchment, and sealing wax.

The contents of my “letter”:

“Greetings,

“I am writing on behalf of The Blessed Mother to inform you of an incoming army, sponsored by The Earthshaker, The Tidebringer, and The Rainbringer. They wish to erase this city for the damage done to the earth, water, and sky by the current mining, refining, and smithing practices.

“Your prior guardian, Fredrick Von Hildebrand, is no longer available, and will not be sheltering this city simply due to who lives here. I intend to help with this attempt on this city, but it will be on my terms, not yours, nor the ones Fredrick used.

“For the long term, we'll need to discuss how to return to more traditional mining practices, and reduce the smoke and runoff from the smithing and refining. If we do not, then those deities will simply raise more, larger, and better equipped armies and try again. I will not do this a second time.

“For the short term, we need to discuss defensive plans for how we will tackle this army. Available troops, available equipment, terrain, tactics, and the abilities I'm willing to use on your behalf.

“Meet me at the entrance to my district at dawn tomorrow. You have today to verify for yourself the approaching army's intent, and the truth of this missive.  Keep an eye on who you ask what, obviously, as it doesn't seem likely that inquiries to those sponsoring the attack will be inclined to confirm it is coming.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are going to war. And we are going to win.

“Champion of The Blessed Mother.”

That done, I go check and see how my harvest is doing. I'm kind of curious how many losses we had to “theft” from the workers.