God of the Feast 1: A LitRPG Portal Adventure (Creation's Bane), page 1
God of the
Feast
By Kevin Sinclair
Copyright © 2022 Kevin Sinclair
All rights reserved
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and situations portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination.
The Author has no medical experience whatsoever and is in no way offering dietary or health advice. Any situation herein, are purely of the authors imagination.
All resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.
For more Information email:
kevinsinclairauthor@gmail.com
First edition 2022
Thanks
Well… this has been an epic! I started over a year ago putting this one together and what a ride it’s been. My wife has been as patient as a saint as I’m consumed with the worlds I’m creating, and my kids ensure I get enforced breaks!
With this one I posted the early copies on Royal Road, and I want to thank those who joined me on that journey and those who transitioned over to Patron! Your support and insights have been amazing.
Thanks also goes to my Editor Alicia Sit for brilliant work editing. Elias Dantas, and Sean hall for their excellent proofreading skills and input.
Eko as always came in with a cracking cover!
Contents
Copyright © 2022 Kevin Sinclair
Thanks
Chapter 1 Night to remember
Chapter 2 Rise and Shine
Chapter 3 Who Armed The Dog?
Chapter 4 With Friends like that, Who Needs Enemies
Chapter 5 Who’s the Daddy Now!
Chapter 6 Sock Rocket
Chapter 7 Statistically, it doesn’t look good.
Chapter 8 Shinz... shok... Impressive Robes.
Chapter 9 Armee of Darkness
Chapter 10 You Neuma name.
Chapter 11 On the Brightside.
Chapter 12 Who put the T in Meditation
Chapter 13 Denied by Devotion
Chapter 14 Some People are Trolls
Chapter 15 To Do or not to Do’Urden
Chapter 16 The Desperate and the Pitiful…
Chapter 17 Hoodie of Hide and Seek
Chapter 18 Last night in Laurel
Chapter 19 Crossed Wires
Chapter 20 Sachet of Daztchup
Chapter 21 The Blame Game
Chapter 22 Farmers Market
Chapter 23 The Power of Devotion
Chapter 24 Choices
Chapter 25 The Hills Have Eyes
Chapter 26 Is this Okay
Chapter 27 The Burden of Dominance
Chapter 28 There May be Trouble Ahead
Chapter 29 Getting to Know You
Chapter 30 The Strongest Man on the Planet
Chapter 31 Is a Weirdo
Chapter 32 The Interview
Chapter 33 Just the Two of Us
Chapter 34 Clive’s Place
Chapter 35 That wasn’t Handy… Or was it?
Chapter 36 Neuma’s what it wants, not what I Need!
Chapter 37 Not just a Weirdo
Chapter 38 Time to Shine do my Own Thing.
Chapter 39 This isn’t Luck
Chapter 40 Tortures End
Chapter 41 Eyes Opened
Chapter 42 Joel on a Roll
Chapter 43 Mal-Not-Content
Chapter 44 Pest ConJoel
Chapter 45 Best Roast Potatoes Ever!
Chapter 46 What is Left
Chapter 47 Salvation
Chapter 48 Brothers in Arm
Chapter 49 Natom’s Daughter
Chapter 50 Farwell Faray
Chapter 51 Not the Man I Used to Be
Part II Map of Falritas
Local Area Map
Chapter 52 Isn’t it Ironic
Chapter 53 Longshanks
Chapter 54 What was Hidden
Chapter 55 Entwined
Chapter 56 Not Awkward
Chapter 57 Nomad-der the Problem
Chapter 58 To the North
Chapter 59 A Far Reach
Chapter 60 Love will Tear us Apart
Chapter 61 Beyond
Chapter 62 Shuffling the Pack
Chapter 63 Teething Problems
Chapter 64. Peace, Love, and War
Chapter 65 Storm in a Teacup
Chapter 66 Great Wall of Far Reach
Chapter 67 Meddlesome Fool
Chapter 68 The Good, the Bad, and the Badass
Chapter 69 Aftermath
Chapter 70 To Nuinaer
Chapter 71 The Gaffer
Chapter 72 Pierce the Veil
Chapter 73 Face Off
Chapter 74 Best Laid Plans
Chapter 75 Golden Arches
Chapter 76 In Transit
Chapter 77 A Measure of Relaxation
Chapter 78 Home
Chapter 79 Civilization
Chapter 80 A Neutral Net
Chapter 81 Best Laid Plans
Chapter 82 Cycling to Work
Chapter 83 Void Pockets
Chapter 84 Feet First
Chapter 85 Hunters Spice
Chapter 86 You Have My Arrows
Chapter 87 Mile High Club
Chapter 88 Control
Chapter 89 Hot Air
Chapter 90 Stretched to the Limit
Chapter 91 Fecking Ferthur
Chapter 92 Recruitment Drive
Chapter 93 Following
Chapter 94 Demanding Negotiations
Chapter 95 Evasive Maneuvers
Chapter 96 Turning the Tide
Chapter 97 Controlled Flight
Chapter 98 First Leg
Chapter 99 The Unopen Road
Chapter 100 Of Krysan and Castles
Chapter 101 Plain to See
Chapter 102 Palathi Peak
Chapter 103 Rushing for Halak
Chapter 104 Clive makes an Impression
Chapter 105 The Handover
Chapter 106 A Fae Way to Travel
Chapter 107 Little Piggies
Chapter 108 Bleating On
Chapter 109 Grobbledeygook
Chapter 110 An Almighty Surprise
Chapter 111 Things That go Bump in the Night
Chapter 112 A Matter of Refuge
Chapter 113 Wet Feet
Chapter 114 Fired Up
Chapter 115 Nanook
Chapter 116 Blackout
Chapter 117 Darkness
Chapter 1
Night to remember
An expertly delivered, two-footed kick to the chest in a dark back alley was no way to end a good night out drinking.
I’d been taking a leak when it happened, not just hanging out in back alleyways.
As I lay there in a puddle of piss of my own making, a rat scampering mere inches past my head, I had the presence of mind to suspect that the perpetrator of the assault was not from around these parts.
Which begged the question: What the hell was a ninja doing in the heart of Sunderland’s city center on a Friday night?
Now I was a fairly big bloke, six-four. And I worked out a few times a week too, so I could handle my business in most altercations. Tonight, however, was not one of those occasions. Due in no small part to my passionate celebrations after the bank had agreed to a business loan for my new restaurant.
I’d barely been able to stand up straight before this little back lane soirée, and now, despite the adrenaline raging through my veins, I was like Bambi on ice.
As I attempted to get back to my feet while simultaneously trying to put myself away and fasten my zipper so that I could focus more clearly on fighting my remarkably short, black-robed assailant, he decided that he wasn’t too enthusiastic about me standing back up. A blunt, heavy object bashed me in the back of the skull, and it was goodnight, Clive.
///
Upon waking, I found myself in total darkness, and from my position and the pain in my wrists and feet, it didn’t take a genius to work out that I was tied to a chair. The next logical leap was to assume I was no longer in the back lane. Beyond that, I knew nothing at all, which terrified the ever-loving shit out of me.
All efforts to make sense of the attack resulted in vague, disjointed memories that swirled around my mind, like rogue eggshell in batter, unwilling to link into anything meaningful.
The mere effort of trying to think brought on the urge to spew, which had the domino effect of bringing another very important realization to my attention: I had a sack over my head. I couldn't understand how I’d missed it. Wherever I was may not even have been dark after all. Hell, it might not even have been a room.
I suspected that I was still drunk and most likely concussed. The sheer terror wasn’t helping matters either.
“He’s awake,” a scratchy, high-pitched voice said in a not particularly comforting tone.
“Is he now? Good, good,” a lower and far more sinister voice replied.
I started freaking out, trying to free myself from my restraints. “What the fuck do you guys want? I’ve barely got any enemies, and I’m pretty sure none
“We’re not your enemies, Clive. You are merely in possession of something we require,” the second, more sinister voice replied as if speaking to a child.
“Okay… okay. If you’ve heard I’ve got money, then you’ve gone and fucked up. The bank’s sorting me out with a loan for a restaurant, but I’ll never see the actual cash,” I rambled on desperately.
“Your money means nothing to us,” sinister voice said. “We are here for the power you hold. Give us the recipe!”
“A recipe! You kidnapped me for a fucking recipe?” I asked disbelievingly. “Come on then, spit it out. Which of my creations are you after? Is it my famous cheese and ham soufflé? My next-level roast potatoes? The secret for those babies is semolina flour. Parboil. Fully cool. Then salt, pepper, and semolina those tasty little bastards. Honestly, it’s a fucking game changer, lads. In your roasting dish, you want lard, but if you're one of these vegan types, then the only substitute I’d recommend is coconut oil,” I explained, entirely forgetting my predicament for a brief second as I conjured images of crispy, fluffy, golden potatoes.
I was snapped back to reality by a deep and forceful grunt. I was pretty sure neither sinister nor screechy voice had made the noise, so there was definitely another kidnapper here. I felt my odds drop further.
“You are obtuse and unpleasant, Clive, but no matter. The recipe we require belonged to your master. While he may have perished on your plane, you are marked by its power. Which, if I’m not mistaken, means that you have it in your possession,” the sinister voice said.
“Master? I haven’t got a bloody master. Are you talking about Hakan? You want his recipe book?” I asked, disbelievingly. Hakan was the one who had trained me to be a chef. I had been a bus boy for him from the age of eleven, and at sixteen, he had taken me on in the kitchen.
For fourteen years I’d worked with him until his disappearance and apparent death a year ago. The pain of that loss was still raw.
“Where is it?” the super deep voice rumbled dangerously. The bass, even when he spoke quietly, hurt my head.
“Look. I knew Hakan, for sure. But I ain’t got no book of his.”
There was a moment of tense silence before the super deep voice spoke again. It had me feeling like I’d sat on a speaker at a Slipknot concert.
“If he does not have the recipe, then dispose of him. Send people to remove everything from his abode, then continue the search.”
“Woah! Wait a damn minute here and let me think. I might be able to help you find it,” I snapped, trying to convey confidence I didn't feel.
“How will you find it?” the sinister voice asked.
“Hakan and I go way back. He was like my crazy, abusive step-dad or something. I can help. Trust me,” I said, cringing inside as the words fell from my lips. I didn’t know how the hell I’d find it. All I had was a desire to live, and I was just going to have to rely on my sober, less terrified me to find a way out of this.
“Grashuyk. Take this wretch with you. Should he pose any problems in your quest, you may devour him,” the super deep voice said.
“Thank you, sir,” Grashuyk, the artist formerly known as the sinister voice, replied.
I heard the one with the high-pitched voice let out a peal of delighted laughter. What in the hell had Hakan gotten me into?
The bag was suddenly whipped from my head, and I wished to high heaven that it hadn’t been. Initially, I was blinded by the well-illuminated room. I took a quick moment to reflect on how excellent the head covering had been at blocking out the light. Whatever material they’d used would make some awesome curtains. The supposed blackout ones that currently hung in my apartment were utter dog shit. I might as well have hung a pair of tights over my window for all the good they did.
As my vision cleared, my ninja assailant stood to the side of me. I couldn’t make out his face, but when he spoke, I knew it was the one called Grashuyk.
“He will make good eating.”
I ignored the terrifying threat to check out whom he was talking to. It didn’t compute at first. On the other side of what appeared to be a glowing portal stood… I kid you not, a gigantic fuckoff demon. Deep crimson skin, marbled with pulsating black veins stretched over an insane amount of muscle. Wicked looking protrusions jutted from all angles, lining its thick arms and legs and crowning its head.
Above that crown, it had what looked like a goddamn NPC identifier just floating in the air.
Buer: Level 73, Paladin of Destruction, Baatazu (Demon III).
It was the last thing I saw as I received yet another forcefully delivered blow to the back of the head. This time, a part of me was actually grateful as the world spun back into darkness.
Chapter 2
Rise and Shine
I woke up on the sofa in my apartment and groaned. I couldn’t even remember getting home. Man, I’d gotten wasted. I tried to get back to sleep to escape from the hangover, screwing my bleary eyes shut once more.
Any attempt at returning to sleep was foiled by the light streaming through my useless curtains and a very full bladder. So, reluctantly, I swung my legs around to the floor, head pounding even worse. I rubbed at it. The headache wasn’t just on the inside either. The back was tender as hell. I rubbed at it to find a massive, tender lump on the back.
The night came flooding back to me. I unsteadily scrabbled up to my feet, swaying slightly from the effects of both a raging hangover and concussion. Looking around the living room frantically only served to worsen my symptoms.
If there was anyone else in here with me, I wouldn't be fighting them immediately as I began a dramatic and vocal emptying of my guts.
Stinking vomit projected from my mouth… and… my nose. It felt like my stomach itself was trying to leave, too. When I'd finally emptied everything available, my eyes streamed, and my nose felt like I'd inhaled stinging nettles.
Staggering to the bathroom, keeping a bleary eye out for intruders, the apartment seemed to be empty to my addled senses.
I splashed water over my face, rinsing my mouth out as I went before plonking my ass on the toilet, exhausted.
My mind vainly searched for answers. I guessed I must have had my drink spiked. It had happened before, though I had just fallen asleep in the bar that time. I sure as shit hadn't hallucinated about portals and demons.
"Are you quite finished with this pathetic display, human?" said the goddamn ninja from my bathroom doorway.
"Well fuck. Not a hallucination," I groaned.
Normally, I wouldn't have groaned. I would have tried to deliver a firm ass whooping. But, in my current state, I had nothing to offer.
"I have tarried here long enough. Show me to the recipe book.”
"Are you really going to try to eat me if I don't play ball?"
"No."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that mate, because honestly, cannibalism is kinda fucked up. Especially when I could cook you a banging meal,” I said feeling some relief.
"I will not try to eat you, I will eat you," he said, pulling his face covering to one side.
A horrifically wide mouth, full of sharp yellow teeth, was revealed. His nose was wide and flat to his face, with two slits for nostrils, and the eyes, oh god the eyes. They were slitted with a red iris and a yellow pupil. I panicked. Instinct kicked in and I hurled the nearest thing I had to hand at him as hard as I could.
The roll of toilet paper bounced harmlessly off his chest. Shit.
He eyed me dangerously. "I suggest that that is your last attempt at defiance."
"Yeah. Well, I’m totally knackered at the minute; otherwise, I’d kick your ass,” I sighed, feeling an increasing wave of nausea and dizziness.
“You are nowhere near capable of such a thing, human.”
“What even are you? Apart from one horrifying looking dude," I replied.
"Where is the book? My master expects my prompt return. You do not want to keep him waiting."
"Yep, got it. Or you’ll eat me. Sure, sure. Can I at least get changed first? Then I'll take you to his old restaurant. If it's anywhere, I'm sure it'll be there."
“No, we go now.”
“I’m covered in piss and vomit. I’m gonna draw the attention of everyone we pass.” I gestured to the state I was in. I was mainly trying to stall, though. I mean, mooching about with a little ninja would probably draw more attention than my disgusting state.
"Be quick," he snapped.
