• Blasted Earth customs, he thought.

    He understood the idea of a “New Year’s Resolution,” but he was amazed that people actually went through with them. Al’Deck was sure that sometimes the people of Earth didn’t actually go about their resolutions, but obviously most did. Otherwise, what was the point of the custom?

    And thus, he was committed to a course of action he thoroughly didn’t want to take. Blasted Earth customs, indeed. He thought about not doing it. No one had been with him on New Year’s Eve. He hadn’t told anyone what his resolution was (not that they’d asked, no doubt assuming he hadn’t made one being not from Earth and unfamiliar with the custom). None would think less of him for not going through with it, but honor dictated he must.

    Al’Deck reached out to the power within him. Well, a power would be more appropriate a phrase. He had various and sundry powers, after all. He began thinking about Emqua. About where he was born, and where he’d spent the first thousand or so years of his life. Al’Deck gulped. In a matter of moments, he’d be there. He truly didn’t want to be there. He had less than seconds before he found himself in the Palace on High. What if his kin were angry at his leaving? What if it turned into a fight? He’d lose, and he’d die. For an immortal, there was no thought more sobering. But he’d resolved to see his family again and see if he could find happiness with them like when he was young, so go to Emqua he must. Blasted, insipid Earth customs. Why couldn’t they just stick to drinking potentially-lethal amounts of alcohol? That part he understood. Emquan elves did that too during the new year, although the quantities were very different since elves had a significantly higher tolerance for it than humans. The alcohol tolerance of elves was the final thing to cross his mind before Al’Deck was erased from the plane of Earth, dragged through the Aether, and reformed in his chambers in the Palace on High in Emqua.



    When Al’Deck’s vision cleared, his quickly noticed his room looked different than he remembered leaving it. It had been cleaned, and his things were nowhere to be seen. He supposed it made sense; he’d been gone a very long time. Millennia, actually. It might as well have been a new plane, for all he knew of the current goings-on. He’d actively avoided keeping tabs on home, lest he be tempted to return. He was still unsure of what caused him to desire this return in the first place. It had felt right despite being astoundingly stupid, he supposed.

    As was his habit when entering a different plane, he pulled out his scroll. Nothing could have prepared him for what it said. Not only were the names of his kin written in ornate, glowing script at the top, but the scroll was about a foot longer to accommodate for the names of the High Arcana as well. Equally surprising, more than half of the Emquan names were marked as available. It would appear they’ve grown lax in my absence, Al’Deck thought. No sooner had he thought it than the marks had changed to unavailable in quick succession. They haven’t forgotten what my presence feels like, however…

    Al’Deck sighed. It didn’t look like much had changed besides him. Still, if it DID turn into a fight, he had things to fall back on now which they wouldn’t expect. Judgment in particular was appealing if problems were to occur. In fact, it might help to make a bit of an entrance. He called out to the powers of Judgment, felt his physique enhance noticeably, and made his way to where the throne room should be if the layout was still the same. Arriving at the massive double doors, he pushed them open with all of his (considerable) might. They swung rapidly on their hinges, and crashed into walls with a bang that no doubt the mortals could hear from the temple at the base of the mountain and would have deafened them if they’d been in the room.

    “Father!” Al’Deck called, “I have returned, and would have words with the!”

    It appeared Al’Deck’s homecoming would be much more dramatic than he had intended; all of his kin were in the hall for the nightly feast. To Al’Deck’s frustration, they started laughing. His façade of confidence cracked a little as his grin got slightly smaller.

    As the roar of the crowd’s laughter quieted, his father stood. Al’Deck’s father loudly cleared his throat, and what remained of the chatter instantly halted. “Al’Deck,” his father began, “no one talks like that in Emqua anymore. I’m glad you’re back, but if you intend to stay you will need to learn the new manner of speech.”

    Al’Deck wasn’t sure what to say to that. His mouth flapped open and closed briefly before he composed himself. “Y-you talk like they do on Earth now,” was all he could get out in his confusion.

    Al’Deck’s father seemed almost as confused as Al’Deck himself. “Whatever ‘Earth’ is, I assure you any similarities are purely coincidence. Although I suppose if it’s similar to the speech of wherever you’ve run off to for the past five thousand and twenty-three years, then you’ll save quite a bit of time learning to speak the modern dialect. I mean, did you honestly expect the language to have not evolved at all with how long you were gone?”

    Before he could stop himself, the words came out. “No, but I expected you and the rest of our kin to remain so stuck in their ways that your way of speaking would have stayed the same.” Judging by the gasps from the crowd and the look of annoyance from his father, this was probably not the right thing to say. He really should’ve at least said “hello” before beginning the inevitable argument.

    “Son, I understand that you left on less than desirable terms, but you have to understand that if left unchecked, you could easily kill us all! We can’t afford to let that opportunity happen!”

    Al’Deck had danced this danced before many times. His father no doubt knew exactly what his retort would be, as it hadn’t changed. “I could do that, father, but I won’t. I don’t want to be the only one living in the Palace on High, and I have no desire to see my family dead at my feet.” Al’Deck’s father opened his mouth to parrot the same counterpoint he had used since Al’Deck was four hundred eighty-three, but Al’Deck silenced him with a raise of his hand, which elicited more gasps from his extended family. “No, I don’t demand that you let me use your powers like they were mine. I understand that my powers make me a threat to your dominion, but one that’s easily dealt with. What I ask is that all of you stop rubbing it in. Before I left, every conversation I’d had for the preceding one hundred fifty some odd years amount to one of you poking fun at how my abilities blatantly dwarf yours, but I can’t use them because of how easily countered they are. I could have lived with being powerless, but there wasn’t just no thing left for me here, there was no body either.” Al’Deck took a deep breath. He needed to sound angry for this next part, not like a depressed child. He put every ounce of pent-up anger he could into his words.

    “You all gave me no reason to stay. No one worth talking to, because even the mortals adopted your attitude towards me! Nowhere worth going. At the young age of nine hundred twenty-eight, I had less prospects for my future than a destitute mortal. And you just couldn’t let me forget it!

    “So do you know what I did with my powers? I brought them to places that deserved them. Places populated by good, just people. They may have been mortals, but they at least knew respect! And they were in need. So many worlds out there were facing down problems that no mortal could handle, so I brought them the might of a deity. And rather than cower in fear because I had the capacity to bring them harm, they stood tall, looked me in the eye, and thanked me! Unlike you, they appreciated that I had abilities I could contribute. They appreciated the power and service I offered. Go anywhere in the multiverse that isn’t Emqua, and you’ll hear the mortals praising my name alongside those of their own gods!” Al’Deck laughed bitterly as he brought his speech to a close. “Tell me, father, what have you done? I’ve yet to hear your name anywhere besides Emqua.”

    Al’Deck’s father didn’t know what to say. His son had always been bitter about his lot in life on Emqua, but he’d never been this aggressive before he left. He really had changed since he left. Still, Al’Deck was questioning his might, and that had to be dealt with.

    “I have led the gods as their king during times of need.”

    “As have I, on other planes,” Al’Deck replied.

    “I have stood alone against forces that could consume the mortal and aetherial realms!”
    Al’Deck remained unimpressed. “As have I.”

    I wield the power to crush you like a disobedient DOG!” The halls reverberated with the forceful shout of Al’Deck’s father.

    In a display that none of the assembled gods and goddesses expected, Al’Deck teleported to stand eye to eye with his father, flourishing his scroll behind him. Murmurs flew through his kin. “How did he do that?” “He shouldn’t be able to!” “The Trickster is using his powers! Al’Deck can’t possibly use them at the same time!”

    “As. Do. I,” he said menacingly. The air around him crackled with electricity, his eyes glowed, sparks flew from his fingertips, and the temperature in the hall increased to an uncomfortably hot level. Al’Deck silently thanked the stars that the Fool, the Tower, and Judgment – whoever they were – all seemed to not be particularly busy at the moment. If he wanted to prove his worth, he’d need all the help he could get, and their powers would go a long way towards providing an impressive display.

    “But like I said, I don’t want to bring an end to you or our family. I just want the respect I deserve.”

    “H-h-how?” Al’Deck’s father sputtered out.

    “There are higher powers than even us, father. As it turns out, my powers extend to using theirs as well,” Al’Deck explained. Were his father to attempt to invade his mind, he’d know that Al’Deck was still reeling from the news himself. Trying to gauge where his son’s thoughts were at would’ve been the logical course of action right now. Unfortunately he was too preoccupied by the fact that his son had the capacity to blast them all to kingdom come, and there was little to be done about it.

    “So what have you been doing while you were gone, boy?” Al’Deck’s father asked.

    “Like I said: Doing good works, bringing about war and peace as needed, spreading my name across the multiverse as someone to be respected.”

    Al’Deck’s father smiled for the first time since the conversation had started. His son was still bitter, and he doubted they’d ever come to an agreement about his station on Emqua, but he had at least made something out of his millennia-long temper-tantrum.

    “Tell me about it,” he said.

    And he did. Al’Deck spent days telling his father and the rest of his kin of where he’d been, what he’d done, and who he’d met. The god of tales wrote down every word. No doubt those few that worshipped Al’Deck on Emqua would finally have a long-awaited addition to their texts. On the third day of his story-telling, as the lesser immortals brought in more food, he began telling them of his most recent adventure on Earth. It sounded almost petty compared to the rest. There were no feuding gods, no battles that would outright dictate the fate of a mortal realm, nothing like that. The Earth had already seen its greatest tragedies, and was broken. It needed repairing. Al’Deck had never been to a world after its greatest calamities had occurred, so he had opted to work quietly to make one corner of it better, hoping to have it ripple out. He was helping to train those on Earth with power how to use it to shape their world for the better. His students were actually doing a very good job of it, even if they were off to a slow start.

    Finally, Al’Deck told them of what had prompted him to come home, and the tale was over. Five thousand twenty-three years of wandering, boiled down to three days. Had he not had the powers of The Fool, it would have no doubt taken nine. As he finally stopped talking, Al’Deck got up to leave. His father grabbed his shoulder before he could take a step, though.

    “Al’Deck, there’s nothing stopping you from staying, you know. Your place is here.”

    Al’Deck gave his father a smile. Had someone told him upon leaving home in the first place that he would’ve considered the offer, he would’ve called them a liar and challenged to a duel for such slander.

    “Father, you may have noticed my story of Earth didn’t really have an ending.” Al’Deck’s father nodded. “That’s because I’m not done there. And there are millions more planes that are in need in some way. My place is out there right now.”

    As he turned around, and a rift in the fabric of space opened before him, he turned to offer one final afterthought. “I promise that the next visit won’t be in another five thousand years.”



    Al’Deck stepped out of the Aether into his room on Earth, and then walked to the base’s kitchen. Harry was sitting at the table, enjoying a slushy. He didn’t seem particularly surprised or phased to see Al’Deck despite how long he’d been gone, but Harry had never been the brightest. He grabbed a bag of chips from the counter, and went to see if he could find someone who would have been concerned with his absence so he could explain himself. They probably wouldn’t be mad at him leaving unannounced when he explained that it had been in pursuit of a binding New Year’s Resolution. No doubt they each spent much of their time during the year working on theirs in some way.

    The first person he encountered was Mason, who had a much more appropriate look of shock when someone who’s been gone for three days reappears out of the blue. “Where the hell have you been, prof?”

    “I visited home for a while, Jefferys. ‘Buried the hatchet,’ as some would say, with some grievances I have with my family. I decided to complete my New Year’s Resolution early enough in the year that I don’t need to worry about it for a while,” Al’Deck explained.

    Mason burst out laughing. “Y-you know… ha! You know no one ever actually does their New Year’s Resolution, right? No one!”

    Al’Deck was so angry he nearly screamed. “You mean that your insipid customs caused me to make good with my family, and there was literally nothing compelling me to?”

    “Yup!” Mason continued laughing like it was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. Chances are it was, since he couldn’t get enough of annoying his teacher.

    “If you’ll excuse me, I need to expend some aggression. Please tell the others I’m back for me, will you?” Al’Deck said through gritted teeth.



    One dead elder dragon on another plane later, he returned to Earth calm, collected, and mildly singed. If he honestly thought about it, he guessed that there hadn’t been any actual harm in making good with his family again, even if he’d done it purely because of yet another misunderstanding with Earth culture.

    Blasted Earth customs.