Use of the consensus theory of truth to evaluate the ODF

Cautiously, I moved through the empty space between myself and the table as all eyes watched me. I tried to stand straight and show no fear. I’d already began to sweat at seeing the strange beasts, the ‘cultists’ to my sides. This must be the bizarre ritual that my mother and grandfather went through so much effort to stop. Now it was my turn. I didn’t feel ready, but I didn’t have a choice. If I didn’t do something now to get my mother back and out of the Archway, I’d ruin everything.

I made it to the table, a table with six seats. The hairs on my neck stood on edge in response to being only a handful of feet away from Yellow King. The unsettling music alone that came from the flutes would have made me tremble if I was in a dark room alone, how much more being right next to evil incarnate. I sat down at the opposite end. Looking at the blank mask with the squiggly Yellow Sign inscribed on it. This wasn’t just some man, it was the remains of that boy’s family. I set my white-knuckled fists sideways on the table.

“Try the glazed pork, it’s fantastic,” the child voice said, waving his hands over the food covering the table. The feast did look surprisingly well made, but I’d sooner jump into a lake of sharks with hunks of meat around my neck then fall for that trap.

“I’m not hungry, I ate before this.” In truth I was starving, but I felt justified lying here. “I’m here to listen to your side of the story.” It was a long shot, but maybe somewhere in that awful corpse was an ounce of humanity. Maybe I could out manipulate the God of manipulation. This wasn’t a battle of fists or swords, but feelings and words, which meant I wasn’t helpless. Yellow King raised his hands, I tensed up. He lightly clapped twice. Out from behind one of

the pillars came a hobbling form. This one was unlike the others. It wore no cloak, no regular clothes at all. It wobbled forward as quickly as its two stubby legs could bring it. It was a rectangular form entirely covered in yellow tethered wraps like a mummy. It had two arms near the top corners of its body that waved like foot-long worms. In its right it held a jug of liquid that dripped down the sides from spilling. I remained still and wide eyed as it grabbed a golden goblet by my side, lifting it and sloppily pouring some of the wine inside. It clumsily half-set half-slammed my drink back down as it turned quickly away, disappearing behind the pillars. If I was hungry before, my appetite was now ruined.

“I heard about the work you did in Innsmouth. I can’t believe you managed to break my influence on Dagon. And you just broke my influence on Birdie too.

You’re a natural.”

“Birdie? The Shantak?” I entertained his small talk.

“Yes. That’s what I called him before you separated us.” A tinge of bitterness was attached to the end of his voice.

“Well I had to get the key pieces. I don’t know why you’d try to stop me when we agreed that I’d bring them here.” I pointed out the holes in his lies.

“I heard you started working with other… dangerous individuals. I should never have doubted you and I was absolutely in the wrong,” the man’s voice was eager while he tapped his fingers on the table.

“Your attacks through the Dagonians in the Kingsport castle didn’t work either. For the Avatar of an Elder God you sure do suck at doing things.” I felt a bit of Deva’s attitude come through my own mouth.

“Ah, ah, but not all of them. I still have the one piece you gave me, remember?” he teased as he reached inside his overlapping cloak and pulled up the string and first key piece my mother gave me. My eyes focused on it. I tried thinking as hard as I could. The Archway was only a few paces behind him.

Maybe I could jump up and make my way across the table, take the part from him and jump into the Archway to find my mom. Or if Spooky somehow came out at just the right moment. As I thought, that same shambling creature from before came up from the shadows and approached Yellow King. It spoke something from its circular jaw, bubbles plopping up and dripping out its crab-maw. It waddled away.

“About that friend you made. That… monster. How come you’ll play nice with him, but not me?”

“Spooky never tried to kill me or my mom.”

“Spooky? Is that the name he’s going by now?” Yellow King seethed under his calm demeanor, as if just thinking about our mutual acquaintance made him rage. “What did he offer you? Eternal life? Riches beyond your imagination?”

Yellow King sat forward now.

“He taught me how to use the key and release my mother from inside the Archway. And how my Elder Sign keeps you and other monsters from hurting me.” I was exaggerating, but a shot in the dark couldn’t hurt. Yellow King sat back in his seat.

“You so easily trust the thing your grandfather so dearly despised. He’s probably rolling in his grave, if he has one.” I wasn’t sure if I should act or keep up the conversation. I decided to wait a little longer.

“Spooky told me they didn’t get along. But what do you mean when you say if he has one?”

“My apologies, to be honest I can’t answer that. I have no idea what happened to old Randolph. Probably out floating in the Cosmos causing somebody trouble. Either way Little Carter, I’m glad you came to your senses and decided to come here. Now that you’ve finally stopped this silly game of cat and mouse, we can finally move on. Really, you’ve saved the Cosmos thanks to your selflessness.” While he spoke, I heard something far behind me. It was slight, and over the piping and jittering flutes it was almost impossible to make out. Spooky was on the move. Something moved up above on the ceiling, but I didn’t look up to give its position away. It might have been another cultist, but it might have been Spooky getting ready to strike. I had to be ready.

“If you want me to help you save the Cosmos, then why don’t you tell me how this works. Why are you so bent on releasing the Elder Gods?”

“Simple. You see, in the same way we breathe in and breathe out, the Cosmos does the same. It starts from the smallest speck, then explodes out. But sooner than later, it always has to come back. There’s an Ancient God, a God older than even the Elder Gods. This all-powerful being is what powers this cycle. The Elder Gods are the tiniest fragments of his power made manifest. And we Avatars in turn are a mere fragment of them. It is my holy and sacred duty to allow them access back into the Dreamlands and all other Worlds in the Cosmos.

Carter, excuse my language, was a damnable heretic. He hated the Elder Gods and their wills. He decided to abuse the powers was given by a race of traitors that traveled to his World a hundred years ago.”

“The Elder Sign.” I nodded. I knew this information, it matched with what Spooky had told me.

“Precisely! I won’t tell a lie, I was worried you’d be just like your parents after our tussles before. You’re so much lovelier and understanding then they.”

“Well, I am an empath. So, my grandfather, Randolph. He used the Elder Sign to seal away the Elder Gods, and that stopped them from making the Cosmos breathe?”

“Yes. He prevented the cycle from repeating. One hundred years is like a second for an Elder God. But the balance of nature is a fragile one. It’s of dire importance that we restart the cycle as soon as possible, before it’s too late.”

“What happens when it’s too late?”

“The Cosmos will choke, and everything will die. Maybe even the Gods.”

His tone was serious. But at least it made sense why the cultists would go to such awful and great lengths to free their masters.

“But, won’t the cycle make everything die anyway?”

“Yes. Everything other than the Elder Gods. They retreat to the Cosmic Center where it’s safe. Then, it happens and the Elder Gods return. And with their power, life can begin anew. And after time dictates, the cycle will come and go a vigintillion times again, just as it has before.” It was a lot to follow, but his great arm movements to the sky helped illustrate just how important this was too him. As he was distracted from his gestures, I took the risk and peeked up to the ceiling. It was almost impossible to see, but there, clinging to the rafters hundreds of feet above was a form I couldn’t fully make out from here. But I knew exactly who it was from those glowing purple eyes. I stood, slowly from my chair, letting my extending legs slide it back. This was it.

“No wonder. That snake was lying to me. I always knew my mother was a witch. I’ll open the Archway, but only if you promise to let me be the one to kill my heretical mother.” Yellow King stood so quickly I thought he saw through my ruse. He made his way around the table to me. I met him halfway. I stood in front of the ethereal being now. The way he walked was more of a ghostly float than a walk. In his left hand, he held the dangling last part of my Silver Key, his right was outstretched for a shake.

“Make this Cosmic Pact before these masses and the Elder Gods. I will give you the key and allow you to release your mother. In return, you will take her life.” I didn’t look twice. I grabbed his hand and shook. There was hardly any time for me to take in the glaring colors of sparkling hues of black, orange and blue around our hands as something grabbed my shoulder and threw me back like a ragdoll.

As I recovered, I saw Spooky standing over me, holding a silver object in

his hand. 6 sharp, rapid thundering blasts rang out, several times louder than any Shantak screech. Spooky’s arm rattled fiercely, as the silver and brown thing in his hand caused the noise. It must be the magic he mentioned from the Waking World, whatever that was. The smell of sulfur and smoke filled the air in front of me. In that instant, Yellow King flew back in a drunken motion, falling backward over his own feet. He slammed into one of the pillars and slid down.

Spooky held the key part and looked back at me.

“Give me your key parts, quickly,” he demanded, holding out his hand. I shuffled through my bag as the noises of the flutes began to pick up. It was somehow worse than hearing them stop, because instead of helping their master, it was like they were playing louder for him in excitement. I ripped the two thirds out and before I could extend my arm, Spooky took it and made a dash for the raging Yellow Archway, connecting them as he ran.

“Two minutes. Survive for two minutes!” he advised as he ran into the light.

It strobed so brightly as he entered I had to shield my eyes from the overwhelming glow. My eyes swept back to the beasts, who stayed in their pews while they rocked back and forth, playing the music an octave lower, yet speeding their tempo up. I looked back to Yellow King. He was trying to stand, but not in the way any human should. His torso was twisted. His legs were in shambles, the impact seemed like it should have shattered every bone in his body. But that didn’t faze him. His bones cracked as they reassembled in place.

Twisting and croaking as he slowly stood. Six-coin sized holes were on his chest, a honey-like syrupy substance oozed down. The same color as his clothes.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Little Carter,” he said, his tone was disappointed.

“If you think I’m crazy enough to just let your cult free those horrible monsters you’re wrong. There’re not Gods, they’re just angry plants!” I spat, stepping away from him as he stood taller, and taller. He was growing. I looked back to the entrance of the temple. It wasn’t far, I could make a run for it. I looked back to Yellow King. His body was still rising. He had to be at least eight, no, nine feet tall when from the bottom of his robe I saw limbs like blackened branches creep out, like vines wrapping around the nearby pillars while searching for life to snuff out. Legs; don’t fail me now.

I turned down the center aisle, down the faded red carpet and made a mad sprint away from the Yellow King. The choir of awful creatures played their instruments louder and louder. I covered my ears as I ran. I looked back as I made it halfway down the court. The Yellow King now stood above the table.

The branches had formed into the base of a tree to prop him up. Dozens of the corrupt and withered tendrils swept toward me ten times faster than I could run. I screamed as they rose up, a handful trying to grab me.

I was thrown back with overwhelming power. But not from the grip of the tendrils. A burst of wind came through the entrance of the temple, forcing me off my feet and backward, right on top of the hollow middles of the bark limbs. If they hadn’t been there I would have burst the back of my skull on the stone floor.

I heard a clattering, the noise of slashing and tearing of something at my feet. I looked up to see not my own body being ripped apart, but the tendrils of death as a black straight sword and a rapier wielding duo stood before me.

“I told you lass, vengeance is mine.” Tristan looked down at me. His arm extended downward. I would have hugged him, if I wasn’t so confused on how they got here. I stood, Leeroy and Robert coming to my side.

“But, how?”

“Shantak brought us. I think it likes you,” Leeroy answered. As if on que, a set of scaled wings flew overhead. The Shantak screeched as it dived into the mass of vines that rose to meet it. As it clawed and raged, I filled them in.

“Spooky’s in the Archway. He said he needed two minutes, he should be out any moment now with my mom.”

“We’re not just going to wait for him. Let’s go!” Deva shouted as she ran forward, her rapier in her left hand now as her other was bandaged. We all joined in her charge toward the monstrosity Yellow King had become.

Tristan leapt through the air, slicing limb after limb. Deva pin pointed the slithering masses poke after poke. Leeroy went to work with his own throwing daggers, making sure to clean up what the others missed. I stood there behind them with Robert, dumbfounded at what I was seeing.

I didn’t know if we could win this, but I realized something. If I could touch the Yellow King’s face behind the mask, I could enter his mind and end this. I ran forward, making a beeline to the table his corpse floated above. If I timed it right and had enough coordination, I could jump off the table, rip off his mask and touch him. But as I made my final run down the center and got just a few feet away from the table it all went wrong. One of the snake arms slid under me, wrapping around my ankle. I nearly smashed my face on the ground. I caught myself, nearly twisting both my wrists.

While I faced down everything turned for the worst. Yellow King gave a booming command in that cryptic language I couldn’t understand. The sound of hundreds of pieces of metal clambered to the stone floor, the music became so

much worse and jarring to my ears. When I looked up, I realized the cultists had stopped playing, and they now surrounded us, making a twenty-foot high wall of amorphous flesh, fusing together like clay. We were cornered, trapped in an arena with the Yellow King in the center. The Shantak still clawed at him, but as we were distracted, and the others gathered around me he focused all his still spawning snake limbs on the Shantak. His tendrils wrapped around its neck and squeezed.

“Help it!” I screamed. Tristan was already on it. But as he used his armored legs to crack the floor with the force of magic under him, he was slapped out of the air by a grotesque arm made of flesh that formed from the mass of monsters.

Tristan was flung against the only pillar trapped in the small space with us. He crashed and slid down the wall. Deva tried next, but she was too slow. She kept her eyes on the mass of flesh, but the limbs from above snapped like whips, slapping her away like a fly. She landed on her legs, but they gave under the force of her impact and she crumpled to the floor. My wild eyes went from her, to Tristan, to the Shantak.

“Be gone, heretics!” An inhuman voice shook the temple around us. The Yellow King’s now infinite array of limbs poised to strike us all. The cultists around us seemed to laugh at us, at our inevitable deaths. Robert stepped in front of me. It was a nice gesture, but even Leeroy put his knives down, realizing we were hopelessly outmatched. Maybe the Gods were on his side. I gave a pitiful laugh and shook my head, looking at my feet in embarrassment. Only now did I realize how hopelessly outclassed we were. And how futile all my efforts were.

Crack.

We stopped. All of us. Shantak stopped screaming, the cultists stopped laughing.

The very top of the glowing light of the Archway above us had cracked, leaving a shining glow brighter than the rest of it piercing through. Crack. This one was even louder.

“No,” Yellow King spoke in disbelief. Then, all hell broke loose. The mirror wall of light between the Archway pillars shattered, and music with light came flooding through. If I thought the music at the coliseum was grand, this was an opera of the Gods.

As if riding the waves of trumpets, two figures came riding down in the rays of overwhelming light as the Archway glass shattered. A figure in black slid down the Archway near Yellow King. They twisted their body and brought their