Book VIII: Ajax The Freemaker
Chapter 6: The Well of Wyzdom
Time passed and the Drokka founded new cities deeper inside the Rhokki’s, whilst the Derkka clans continued to expand their realms in the world above. My humanity project was in full swing.
However, I was getting burned out. To be honest I grew rather tired of the taste of Derkka and Drokka souls – it was like eating a ham sandwich every day for hundreds years – eventually a guy wants some variety, right?
Therefore, I decided to ‘retire’ my Rhokki appearances for a while and turn my attention to other things.
The Drokka High Priest at the time was named Mamluk der Nave. Appearing to him as Rhokki, I told him I was ‘abandoning’ my people because they had failed to carry out my commands to destroy the Derkka. Although Mamluk wailed at his plight of having to think for himself, he overcame his grief when he realized I was going to let him continue the grift and fleece the public because I threw him a tasty bone – helping Mamluk discover a Well of Wyzdom where I promised (read: lied) my persona would continue to communicate with him from – thus saving me the nuisance of having to appear in the ridiculous form of Rhokki any longer.
During my absence, the Drokka under Mamluk der Nave thrived on the illusion of divine communication from the Well of Wyzdom. The Well became a sacred site, drawing pilgrims from across the mountains and from every class, each seeking guidance and blessings. Mamluk capitalized on this, turning the Drokka faith into a profitable enterprise for his clan and especially himself. The well itself, a deep and ancient spring, was soon adorned with intricate carvings and statues of Rhokki, all designed to awe and intimidate the faithful. Priests, trained by Mamluk, performed elaborate rituals to maintain the illusion, their chants echoing through the cavernous halls.
Meanwhile, the elites of both the Drokka and Derkka grew increasingly intertwined. Their covert dealings flourished, a web of deceit and power that stretched across their respective realms. Trade agreements, secret alliances, and shared military ventures kept the common people under their thumb, ensuring the rich remained rich and the poor remained oblivious. The common Derkka and Drokka were fed a steady diet of propaganda, keeping their hatred for one another burning bright, never realizing their leaders were the true puppeteers of their suffering.
In bountiful Gor, the Derkka civilization continued to blossom, their cities growing more grandiose and their technologies more advanced.
Under the guise of Baal, I encouraged their expansion, watching with satisfaction as they built monuments and temples in my honor and even pushed further into the northern lands of Kra – closer to where I’d made my home in a massive volcano. Derkka kings, always eager to prove their loyalty to Baal, had happily sent their armies into battle against their rivals, while also building up a rank of slaves from their lower classes who the used to secure ver more resources for the insatiable war machine.
The Drokka, for their part, transformed the Rhokki Mountains into a fortress of faith and industry. Under rich elites benefitted from the discovery of new mining techniques that allowed them to extract precious gems and metals that fueled their economy, funded their war efforts, and made them fabulously rich. Meanwhile the common people toiled endlessly, their faith in Rhokki unshaken, their lives a cycle of labor and prayer.
Then it was that I took a much-needed vacation – basking in the frigid evening glow of the harsh moonlight that fell on the grounds atop of the volcano at Nektar’s Cauldron, whilst I downed casks of the finest reds from my vineyards. Ah, that’s the life. As I indulged, I reflected on the exquisite balance I had achieved.
The bloodshed and strife continued unabated, souls flowed into my grasp, and the world remained under my subtle yet unyielding control. With the Derkka and Drokka ensnared in their endless conflict, I could afford to take my time, savoring each moment of chaos and corruption I had so meticulously orchestrated.
And yet, as the moons cast their cold light over palace that was carved into the volcano, I prepared myself for the next phase of my machinations. The world was vast, and there were many more souls to claim, many more lives to twist and torment. My vacation might have been a respite, but I knew my work was far from over. The game continued, and I, as always, was ready to play.
Little did I know it would be Adam’s people who made the first move…
The Apocrypha of Azazel 