“Right on schedule,” a cold, unfamiliar voice whispers in my ear, and sends shivers down my spine when she continues, “Let me be the first to officially welcome you to the club, youngling.”

I glance around… I'm not seeing anyone but Patricia, “Where are you?”

The mysterious voice answers easily: “At home. You're wearing a beacon that lets me more readily speak with my servants.”

I raise an eyebrow, “Does that mean you’re trying to make me one of yours?”

The voice chuckles, a dry rasp, “Hardly. It was just the most convenient way to speak with you.  If you haven’t figured it out yet, Alex…”

“You’re Pharasma, goddess of birth, death, fate, and prophecy,” I pause, “I’m guessing that puts basically everything in the future in your portfolio, and is part of why they had a mask ready for me?”

“Indeed,” she gets back to me instantly, “Although I can’t predict you directly, just everything else.  I need to guess at your motivations, just like the others in the club.”

Maybe I’m a little dense, “‘The club’?”

“You’re hardly the first entity to show up without being part of the skein of fate.  You probably won’t be the last, either, but you’re certainly one of the most durable.  Most die pretty quickly.”

Well… “to be fair, I was ganked by three hags before I met anybody who would so much as talk to me.”

“Tue enough,” that chuckle sounds… it's not fun, “but you came back. Few people can do that.”

Right, “So how many of my headaches are from you?”

Again, that chuckle… it raises the hairs on the back of my neck, “Just the hags and the rendalairn.”

“The colossal, magical sphere with the razor sharp lash and the disintegration beam, that fixes itself, comes back from being destroyed, and lays waste to entire planets,” I pause, “THAT rendalairn?”

“Yes. I needed someone who'd be able to stop them from breeding, so I made sure they crossed your path so you could….”

I interrupt, “Two? I haven't seen them yet.”

There's a pause, “Ah. Right. We haven't gotten there yet.”  She does have fate and prophecy in her portfolio… I suppose time might not be quite so linear for her. “Also, it's four of them. They’re going to build a nest and start mass-producing themselves.”

I close my eyes for a moment, “And what happens if I don't kill them?”

“Then they spread out, sending their spawn from the nest to other parts of the galaxy, we stage an intervention per clause 854, section g, paragraph thirty-two of the divine treaty, and those who survive after the intervention wake up with no memory or record of what happened since the founding of the Aeon Throne.”

“Wait…” that couldn't be….

“Yes,” the rather disturbing voice reports, “We're responsible for The Gap. It was initially just going to be sixteen months, but then there was another crisis that the mortals couldn't solve that would get them all killed and eventually us with them, and the treaty specified the marking event for the rollback, and so it became five hundred thirty-seven years.  Then twelve hundred sixty-two after the next one, then about two thousand… if we have to intervene AGAIN for this, it will be twenty-four hundred and change.”

Okay, I have to know… “So what happened?”

“I'm sworn not to say,” the voice comes back quickly, “because you're not fully ascended… yet. Unless you plan to murder that high priest of yours, though, it's inevitable at this point.”

Wait, what? “I have a high priest?”

Ugh, that chuckle sounds… eugh, “Yes… Ulrich has been singing your praises to anyone who'll listen, and many who won't. Given what she looks like, the power she wields, and how loose she is, she's making many a convert… well, will shortly, anyway.  We're not there just yet.”

I consider, “Great… so I'll have more decisions to make shortly.” I picked up Demagogue Powers from Spheres of Power's Living Idol template to save some points, and that has further ‘benefits’ as I gain worshippers: More hit dice (and with them, hit points, skills, Spheres caster level, saves, and feats), more natural armor, and more abilities to select… not as good as levels in Freelancer, but not bad… other than the continuing side effects.  “So when do I officially join the party?”

“About a million worshippers,” she replies, “as things are currently going, another decade.”

I crinkle my forehead, “Don't you handle fate? Why the uncertainty?”

Her sigh isn't any better; a dry death rattle… “because you're outside the skein of fate, as are all deities. After you take a ‘significant’ action, what will be changes, and despite everyone knowing what will pertain to their spheres, we all have to back up and redo our plans. It's a headache for everyone, honestly, which is why the treaty has us all taking such a slack hand most of the time.”

I take a moment and designate Ulrich as my high priestess via Powers of Faith… may as well give her the power to go with her work. I also go ahead and mark the people I usually visit as “favored worshippers” under the same, and flag the entire set for granting divine spells under Domain Mastery… eh, why not? I set it so anyone who worships me can get spells.

“Make that five years,” the being on the other end of my mask pauses, “You can grant Mythic ranks? Huh. Been a while since we had those… and spells already, despite not actually ascending.  Old school stuff… that will be a surprise for everyone, I see.”

Good to know, “So you get updates rather quickly, then?” …but don't know what I can do until I do it. Interesting. With everyone else, though, she seems to pick up on it immediately. VERY good to know.

“Yes; immediately after any of us make a change, I know the results,” she pauses, “So do you have any particular questions?”

There's the obvious… “What sorts of benefits, duties, and restrictions can I expect?”

“That's where things get interesting…” she pauses, “You’re not part of the treaty, so I can’t talk about it until after you are in it.  No, it's not fair. On the plus side, theoretically you could opt-out….”

The way she says that, “I'm guessing that has a big, ugly ‘but’ on there?”

The chuckle makes me shudder, “Very. As an ascended deity outside the treaty, you wouldn't be protected by any of it's clauses - the directives against direct interference with mortals will stop applying when you ascend, but the directives preventing war amongst the pantheon won't apply until you join, so any of us could pull out the old school smiting and all of the rest of us would be honor-bound to take no revenge for your death… and everyone will know that.”

And several of the listed deities are rather… that's not going to work, “So my choices boil down to agreeing to a giant mess of restrictions I won't be able to read until after, or getting ganked by whoever is hungriest.”

“Pretty much,” Pharasma acknowledges, “although other options do exist, like arranging to NOT ascend, or finding a way out of here so we can't reach you.”

“Or maybe cutting a deal about the rendalairns?”  I doubt that will fly, but hope springs eternal.

“Wouldn't work,” she confirms, “We can deal with that situation if the mortals don't, several of our number LIKE that kind of intervention, a few want it as an excuse to sneak in manipulation of other events without consequence, and for most of the rest… well, despite what you will become, most of our number find negotiating with a mortal distasteful.”

The deity pauses, “Plus we have all observed you well enough to know it's an empty threat: You're not going to stand idly by when you know an extinction level threat is on the way.”

Yeah, you got me there, “Pity. I was hoping.  So… where's the nest?”

She gives me a set of coordinates, “Although we have a good six months before they're relevant,” she then adds a date, “that's when and where they get together and come up with the idea… and as fate and prophecy are my domain, it's even my job to tell you about it.”

I consider a moment, “That must be awfully convenient when you want something done.”

“Oh, you don't know the half of it,” oh, I made her chuckle again… ugh, “I can just tell the relevant mortals ‘this is going to happen, here's how you go deal with it successfully’ in a vision, while everyone else needs to cajole mortals into getting it done with signs, portents, and cryptic visions… and often as not, the mortal misinterprets them and does the opposite.”

Huh.

“Oh, and our time is up… you're not one of my servants, and the mask only had so much residual charge; we’ve used that up, so…” her voice fades from my head; the last I hear is, “keep the toys….”

Great.

Exploring mood killed, I shrink back down, climb into my body, hook up, walk to the edge of the planar bubble, get my ship back put, board her with Patricia, and fly off.