Creation Mage 6

horror just detectable in his voice. No doubt the thought of all these future Morts, Reginalds, Leahs, and Igors was one that he found deeply disturbing.
“Aye, they’re all kin,” Great Granddaddy Gorlbadock said. “The Chaosbanes have always been blessed with mighty enthusiastic jism.”
Aunt Ruth whacked the old man on the arm and shot me an apologetic look. She seemed a little too familiar with me during our extensive tour. She lingered with me when I stopped to look at some curiosity, and found any excuse to brush up against me.
I found myself dwelling on what I might do, should the opportunity to lift her many skirts present itself to me. She was a mature lady, sure, but I couldn’t help thinking that she was also very fuckable.
When the tour was complete, Great Granddaddy Gorlbadock excused himself and said that he had a date with a strong brandy and a good armchair.
“The rest of you have my leave to walk the grounds and house as you will. The only place that is off limits is the blasted cellar! Igor I am looking directly at you, boy! Reginald too!”
Both Reginald and Igor, who had been at the back of the group, slurping covertly from a decanter of milky blue liquor, started guiltily.
“Would never - would never dream of it, Grandaddy,” Reginald said, failing to stifle a hiccup.
Igor started burbling something, but Great Granddaddy Gorlbadock waved him down.
“Save it, Igor,” he said with a gruff good-naturedness, “if I wanted to hear from an asshole, I would have farted.”
Leah laughed.
“We’ll reconvene on the porch at nine o’clock sharp,” Great Granddaddy Gorlbadock said as he stumped away. “Your timing is impeccable as usual, for tonight we enjoy and take part in the Celebration of Chaos.”
* * *
It was some time after nine o’clock. After being summoned to the porch by a gong that echoed out through the woods, I found myself standing by the edge of the lake I had spied from the sleigh.
I tried to quiz the Chaosbanes as to what we could expect down at the lakeside for this Celebration of Chaos, but none of the clan were willing to divulge what this ceremony involved. All they would tell Idman, Enwyn, Mallory, Barry, and me was that we had to go down to the lake.
We took the single, tight path along with a host of other silent and somber folk from around the district. At the end of the path, there stood the giant rock I had glimpsed from the air. It was a statue of an animal of some kind, but of what exact kind I couldn’t tell. The huge carved boulder stood about three stories tall. It was set in the undergrowth on a small island in the middle of the still, partly frozen lake.
“It’s a… chimp?” I asked in a hushed voice. I turned my head to one side and then the other. “An ape?”
“A monkey,” Reginald said in a low voice from my right.
“A monkey...” I let the word hang in the air, hoping that someone would tell me exactly what the hell kind of significance it held.
“You ever seen how fucking chaotic a monkey can be?” Great Granddaddy Gorlbadock growled from my other side. “They’re clever little buggers. Can cause no end of mischief. Now shut up, the pair of you!”
At some signal that I did not see, the gathered throng of onlookers walked further around the lake until we all came to a row of benches made from logs with a quarter of their length cut out.
I took a seat beside Leah and Mallory, with Enwyn sitting in my lap. Chaosbanes surrounded us—a surreal experience in itself. From this new vantage point, I could see a stage set in front of the monkey statue, the monkey looking down on it with its stony, almost cartoon-like eyes.
The ritual began. A boat started to drift across the stream. Standing inside it were twelve hooded figures. Nine of the figures held torches that illuminated the night that lay thick and deep under the eaves of the fir trees. The other three were carrying what looked like a body across their right shoulders.
The body wiped away the incredulous smile that had been growing on my face. This whole thing had smelled of some kind of out there ritual, but a body being brought along gave it a sinister twist.
The boat landed on the shores of the monkey statue island, and the dozen robed figures alighted. One of the cultish figures, wearing a great diadem crown, took the stage. In somber tones, the diadem-wearing figure welcomed everyone.
I had never been a big one for religious or supernatural rituals. I had always believed what was presented in front of my eyes. I tried to stay focused and interested but, with the droning and the chanting, I soon zoned out and started thinking of all the dirty stuff that I’d rather be doing to Aunt Ruth.
The ritual relied heavily on smoke and mirrors, obtuse language, and some pretty low-grade spell work. After the first ten minutes, I had realized that the ‘body’ was most likely an effigy of some kind, and I started to see the funny side of things once more.
Eventually, the burning of the ‘sacrificial victim’ took place. The effigy was hauled by its three bearers and hoisted in a dignified manner up into the arms of the monkey. Then, in a suitably mystic and august gout of silver-black fire, the shrouded effigy was set alight. The outer wrappings burned and shriveled like chip packets in a campfire to reveal—
“A sex doll?” I blurted out.
It wasn’t just a sex doll, it was a pinata.
And it exploded after sitting in the monkey’s arms for only a few seconds.
Candy and fairies, tiny winged bottles of grog, and sparkling fireworks flew out of the