There was a new sign erected on a pole outside the building: "O'Paddy's, Builders and Decorators." Elinor was mystified. She didn't know what kind of creature a decorator was, especially as it took her 2 minutes to spell out the strange word phonetically. There was a group of 6 men sitting on a wall drinking from large mugs that appeared to steam. She caught a whiff of something and wondered what sort of herb they'd infused to make the drink.
Equally disturbing was the creature that was serving the drink. It was short and hairy, a bit like a baboon, but not quite, with long arms and short legs. It was dressed as a Lunar server and waddled about pushing a trolley with a large iron urn on it. She overheard one of the men asking the creature whether it had a "sticky bun" on the trolley.
Her unease deepening, Elinor wandered over to the group of men. One, obviously the leader, winked suggestively at her. The fact that she was armed and armoured with over 50 warrior rings tied in her hair didn't appear to put him off. "Watcha darling," he began in broken, accented Sartarite. He wasn't from around here, she thought. Then, in a sudden rush of realisation she realised that all his companions trews were not snug fitting. In fact, the crotches were half way down to their knees and a substantial length of bum cleavage spilled over the top. Her jaw moved but no sound came out. "I think I know what you want..." the man continued.
"Um, I was wondering what was happening here?" she managed to interject,
finally tearing her eyes away from the partly exposed arses.
"Just making a few alterations. We're contractors." He answered.
"Anyway, show us yer..."
Elinor had walked off by then. She had no idea what contractors were, but making alterations to the Temple? Why? Who would sanction such a thing? He parents had worshipped there for years, and her essentially conservative nature was a bit shocked by the change. She'd gone against the normal path expected of women in Sartarite society for all of her most of her adult life and the fact that Orlanth hadn't judged her for that had kept her going in her own personal darkness. Entwined with that was the Temple. When she had been striving to become a warrior, the Temple had symbolised the solidity of her cultures acceptance of whoever lived up to its' ideals.
Now they were changing it. A large part of her life was being changed. She marched purposefully for the doors. "Excuse me Ms!" A voice called as she was just about to open the door.
She whirled, startled. She hadn't seen anyone standing there. Next to the door of the temple was a table which had a stack of books on it and a collection of bottles. She couldn't read the cover of the books, but there again she was no sage and her eyesight wasn't what it had been. The bottles had "L'Horrible" inscribed on them. Next to the table was a young, acne ridden man that she recognised from somewhere. She couldn't put her finger on it though.
"Yes?" she replied, trying to present her best icy stare, dropping her
hand to the hilt of her sword to emphasise the point.
"I'm sorry Ms, but you can't go in."
She blew up: "Why the fuck not?" She stepped forward, intending to nut him, but she suddenly felt a sinking feeling as somehow she realised that everything had been decided without her, that everything had changed.
"I'm truly sorry," He continued, with the air of someone that isn't
actually sorry, but is in fact relishing the discomfort he's inflicting.
"But, I'm afraid your name's not on the list, you can't go in."
"Why not?" She asked.
"Well," he explained, "There's been a policy change in the Orlanth group
of religions I'm afraid. It's to take us into the next century and
create a new environment of peace and harmony for Glorantha."
"Yes, but why am I excluded?"
"Well, I'm sorry," he answered, (Elinor was itching to tear his balls
off, especially if he said he was sorry again) "But I'm afraid that
you're genitally challenged."
"Do what? I've got all the right bits! Okay, they're not as well fiddled
with as the thing you no doubt keep under your robe, but I'm still
complete! "
"Oh dear," The man sighed. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear! My dear, may I
call you that?"
"No, you patronising little git."
"Well, my dear, you haven't got a penis, a cock, a pork sword, a
thrusting spear of orgasmic pleasure, so you can't be a member of the
Orlanth group of religions anymore. Sorry, but it's a done deal!"
Elinor's mouth worked noiselessly. "Don't worry though," he beamed, "We do have an alternative!" He picked up a bottle and handed it to her. "In there is your one step to Vinga kit. Yes, now, with a simple wash in dye, you can become an initiate of Vinga! Yes, all the fun of Orlanth the Warrior (new name, TM, all rights reserved) without the need to have a penis."
He beamed again. "Marvellous choice for female warriors these days, is
Vinga. I mean, you don't have to be a raving, finger chiselling dyke to
join, the way you do for Babs the Gor or like sleeping with horses the
way those naughty, depraved Yelornans do." He looked around, shiftily,
"If you do turn out to want to join Babs for the girl on girl action,
can I watch?"
Elinor was still struck dumb by the boy in front of her. Her eyes were as wide as saucers. What was this odious little man?
"Anyway," he said, "You've had it easy! I've had to tell a Sun Lord
today that he's not actually a Yelmalion anymore, but he's taking up a
rationalised post called a Suncarl. Nice thing about that was the
contraction of the deities name - Yelmalio goes to Elmal. Imagine all
those letters saved. I also had to tell another lad that he couldn't
become a Storm Voice as we've changed the entry requirements. I mean,
these young people. If they don't keep up with the latest clerical bulls
(and I mean bull in it's literal sense) what chance do they have?"
Elinor was sobbing now with frustration. "Who the fuck are you?" She screamed as the boy started to unpack a chest of gingham frocks and try to size her up for one by eye.
"Me? Well, I shouldn't really say, some people get a bit arsey about the
compromise" - he mimed inverted commas around the word compromise - "But
I'm the new owner of the Lightbringer Pantheon of Religions. Basically,
I'm returning the group to its' Gloranthan roots by emphasising the
essential, nay, necessary differences between men and women."
"You see, my dear, I was married for a long time, and the universe was a
peaceful place. Then I had some problems, some bloke with a sword comes
along, nicks my wife and I loose my seat on the board. I ended up in the
bloody cellar and it was full of Trolls and you wouldn't believe what
else. You should have seen the mess someone made of my head office -
there are bits everywhere. Then the bloke who ousted me had to face a
hostile take-over and I swooped in and bought out the lot with
Palmaltelan backing. Anyway, you can read all about it in my new tabloid
newspaper. It's named after me. A trite self glorying, but then, hey, if
I can't indulge myself, who can?"
"Now, you seem a bit upset by all this. It's only understandable, but
you are only a woman and prone to be excitable. May I suggest Evening
Primrose Oil?"
With that, he disappeared and Elinor awoke. The trouble was, it didn't feel like a dream.
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