Earon chuckled to himself. Which certainly was quite normal given that he was a young trickster god. But today his chuckling was a little more profound. He was sure that today's prank would be his best one yet. Not that it was hard to prank mortals. But still, he tried to beat his previous best. That is what trickster gods do.

He really had to stifle his chuckling as mortals drew near. A group of adventurers. Two of them women. Perfect for his goals. As they drew nearer Earon check the last time if his illusion was perfect. Instead of his usual roguish self, everyone would see a beautiful woman instead. Dressed only in sandals, a chainmail bikini and underneath it a leather bikini. To appear busy he let a sword dance over a whetstone.

His bait was set and sure enough, the group of adventurers couldn't resist it. They drew nearer with smirks and laughter. Earon had a hard time not to join them.

"I think you lost a few pieces of your armor," one of the females taunted him. She was a warrior by the looks of it and his main goal.

"Not at all," he answered in a melodic female voice. "I am just abusing the rules of this world."

"What? To give orcs an erection so strong the die of heart attack?" a male wizard scoffed.

"Of course not!" Earon replied in his best-appalled voice. "I dress for protection. This chainmail bikini has an armor rating of eight. And that is before mastery bonus."

"Uhh. So impressed," a female ranger mocked him. "Your boobs must feel so secure. At least those parts of them not sticking out of the sides. And what about your belly? Arms? Tights? Your very throat is open to any blade to cut it."

"Oh, my," Earon said with his best condescending voice. "Have you never heard of secondary armor rating synergies? You poor lads."

"Secondary what?" the warrior asked.

"Secondary. Armor. Rating. Synergies," Earon repeated slowly. "You never heard of them? Let me explain. Have you ever witnessed someone in a heavy armor, like in full-plate, whose defense was breached? Yet their wound oddly shallow. That's thanks to the secondary armor rating synergies. One-tenth of the armor rating is transferred to the skin. Reducing wounds on unprotected areas."

"This is bullshit," the thief of the group threw in. "Even if it was true then your bikini is worth nothing. One-tenth of eight isn't even one point of armor rating."

"Ah.Ah.Ah," Earon rebuked him. "You forgot to account for armor type mastery. And mine is quite high."

"How high?" the female warrior asked.

"One hundred and twelve," Earon let them know with a patronizing smirk.

"One hundred and twelve? That's too high. Each mastery level gives twenty-five percent bonus and this would mean-"

"An armor rating of twenty-two point four on my skin," Earon finished. "Of course, only full points count."

"You are pulling our legs," the wizard accused him. "There is no way anyone can reach such a high mastery."

"Really?" Earon asked with a smirk. "Tell me. Why do those in full plate armor gain slower mastery than those in leather wamps? Or a cloth robe?"

"Because of the material?" the warrior guessed. The thief thought a moment longer and threw in "The amount of material?"

"That's the one," Earon confirmed with a bright smile. "The less material the faster the mastery. And as you can see there is hardly any material on me."

Earon saw a few reluctant nods. He knew it was time for his finishing move. "I see you hesitate to believe me. Well, you are free to see for yourself. Strike me down- That is if you can."

"You want us to kill you?" the wizard asked.

"Use any weapon you like. It won't even scratch me."

"It's your funeral," the warrior murmured as she drew her sword. She gave a light swing at Earon's arm and to her disbelieve it was deflected by the skin alone. She struck harder and harder, but to no avail.

Of course, it was not some silly rules that Earon had made up protecting him. The very thought of mortals hurting a god was ridiculous. Earon's smile grew wider as he sensed the thief sneaking behind him. A moment later he felt a knife slide over his throat. Now he adjusted his illusion to show on the throat of the female beauty the faintest of redness.

"Uh, I felt this one," he commented dryly.

"That's not possible!" "Witchcraft!" "Maybe some strengthening magic?"

The adventurer's group fleet in their confusion, as they couldn't make sense of what happened before their eyes. As soon as they were far enough Earon broke out in laughter. It had gone better than he hoped.

But his celebration was cut short as he heard a second roaring laugh behind him. Angered he turned around. Just to see a warrior standing behind him. Earon didn't need the color scheme to identify the individual.

"Lucasus. What grants me the honor?" Earon asked. Disdain colored his voice. "Doesn't the god of righteousness and heroics have better things to do?"

"Oh, don't be like that," Lucasus said with a chuckle. "I am just admiring your illusion. Very shapely. One could fall in love with it."

Earon shuddered. He let the illusion slip away before that old perv jumped to the false conclusions. "Do you have any business with me?"

"Not exactly," Lucasus admitted. "I am just here to give advice. From one god who has been around for some time to one freshly ascended."

"I don't need no advice," Earon snapped back.

"Are you sure?" Lucasus taunted him. "Because right now you made a big mistake."

"Which one?" Earon demanded to know.

"Never mess with the beliefs of mortals. It is those who fuel our world. They got their minds set that this world follows rules and numbers. Statistics and fixed probabilities. That a plus one sword is better than a normal one. That armor provides a complete defense if the material is high enough. Now you introduced new rules for your prank. If enough of the mortals believe those then they will come true."

"If enough believe in them," Earon repeated in a mock voice. "But they never will. But a few will try and get gutted or worse. It will be hilarious."

"I warn you Earon," Lucasus said with every ounce of dignity he could muster. "Abandon that prank or in the end, it will come back to haunt you."

Earon waved him off. "You know what. I don't believe you. In fact, I think I'll do this over and over. Just to prove you wrong."

Lucasus was left alone as Earon teleported away.

"Young trickster gods," Lucasus remarked to the empty clearing. "So predictable and so foolish."

* * * * * A half mile down the road. * * * * *

"It can't be real, right?" the warrior asked her group as they brought distance between them and the unnatural display.

"It had to be a trick," the wizard agreed.

"It sort of was."

The unknown voice made the group stop. Close by a warrior rested on a stone. His armor decorated with sky blue scales and silver accents. When he stood up an aura unfolded and the group fell to their knees. Bending their head to the god Lucasus.

"Please, my friends," the god said. "Lent me a moment of your time."

"Of course," the warrior exclaimed and the others nodded.

"That lady in chainmail bikini you just saw was no mere mortal," Lucasus explained. "No. It was the newborn goddess Zelliastra. As you know newborn gods and goddesses are often a well of previous unknown secrets. The rules she explained are true. All of them. But it might take some time to reach the level she described. Only those most dedicated will reach it."

"Thank you for sharing this wisdom with us," the warrior said.

"Do not thank me," Lucasus reminded them. "Thank Zelliastra, goddess of chainmail bikinis. For it is her that brings this knowledge to you mortals."

As the group nodded Lucasus couldn't help but add. "You see I am very invested in Zelliastra's success. For it is foretold that she and I will fall in love. One day we will be wed. Please spread the word. You might be ridiculed at first. Just remember how you looked down at her at first. Please bear with it. Spread her word."

"We will," the warrior vowed.

Lucasus smiled. His work here was done, but far from over. He could already sense Earon pranking another group. It brought a smile to his face.

* * * * * Fifty years later * * * * *

"Stop training you imbeciles!" Earon shouted from atop a hill. He overlooked the royal academy and its training grounds. There, dozens of women clad only in chainmail bikini trained with each other.

"A problem my dear?"

Turning around Earon spied Lucasus sitting on a nearby boulder. "You!"

"Yes, me," Lucasus agreed. "What is it, my dear Zelliastra."

"Dargh!" Earon shouted. "Not you too. This cursed name. Why do I always hear this cursed name? I even hear prayers for hear. And look at me! Why can't I wear anything besides a chainmail bikini anymore? Everything I wear falls apart and I find myself always naked or in a chainmail bikini. Why? Just why? Year by year I look more like a woman. I am a man, yet why am I growing breasts?"

"Zelliastra, my dear," Lucasus interrupted her. "All that is just logical. Remember your prank of fifty years ago? Don't you look more and more like the illusion you used?"

"I stopped doing that prank decades ago!" Earon shouted. "Yet now-"

"I told you it will come to haunt you," Lucasus remarked. "With enough mortals believing- Well. At least I can assure you that it is not entirely your fault this is happening."

"It is not?" Earon asked why narrowing his eyes.

"You see there was that God who visited each of the adventurers you pranked," Lucasus explained. "He explained that you were the Goddess Zelliastra in disguise. And if a God says something mortals tend to believe it."

"You!" Earon shouted. "It was you, wasn't it? The god that started this. Why did you even care about any of this?"

"To protect you, my dear Zelliastra," Lucasus admitted. "From yourself. Let me explain. Please. Then you will understand."

Reluctantly Earon nodded and Lucasus gave him an honest smile.

"A few centuries back there was a newborn trickster Goddess. Much like you. She concocted this crazy prank to lure adventurers to their death by sending them on heroic quests. To do this she disguised herself as one of them. A brave warrior."

"But not all of those adventurers parished. The brave warrior wasn't remembered as the one leading them to death and doom. No, he was remembered as the one who was the bravest among them. Who faced any peril no matter how dire. The legend grew and with it the belief that the warrior was a God who tested worthy warriors. As the belief strengthened so was the influence on the Goddess. Until one day there was no Goddess anymore. Only Lucasus."

"So you were bitter about it and-"

"No, my dear Zelliastra," Lucasus interrupted his accusation. "Do you know about Gylamek?"

"The harbinger of food fungus?" Earon asked confused.

"Former trickster God," Lucasus revealed. "Zusannia?"

"The old crone of the swamps."

"Former trickster God. Berideck?"

"I get it!" Earon snapped. "Trickster Gods prank themselves."

"You might not be happy now," Lucasus admitted. "But one day you will. You will be beautiful, have a righteous purpose and a loving husband."

Earon nodded along, but then looked up. "Husband?"

"I spoke too much," Lucasus said with a wink. "My dear Zelliastra, I can't wait to see you in all your glory. Find me in a decade or two. Then we talk more."

Then, from one moment to the next, Lucasus was gone. Leaving behind a cursing trickster God.

* * * * * Two hundred years later * * * * *

"Ladies and gentlemen. It is true!" a young lad exclaimed. He was propped up with his wares on the stage of a large inn. "Put these plugs into your butt and soon you will never have to use the outhouse ever again."

"Just because we put something in our shitter won't make us stop shitting!" a drunkard shouted.

"True," the lad admitted. "Not at first. But the more your mastery of these plugs rises the less waste you produce. I assure you that-"

The lad was drowned out by patrons of the inn booing him out. He had to leave as the food was thrown at him.

In the back of the inn, a warrior leaned to his companion. "Trickster Gods these days. Their pranks get worse and worse."

His companion reached out with her arm and he took her hand in his. She was a vision to behold. A lady most graceful. Her curvy form barely hidden by her finely crafted chainmail bikini.

"Say, oh husband of mine, was I ever this naive?"

"We all were, my dear Zelliastra," Lucasus remarked. "It is practically written into the rules of the world."

"Right you are," Zelliastra agreed. "Yet, I can't help but feel pity for this poor lad of a trickster God."

"There is nothing we can do," Lucasus reminded her.

"Oh, there is," Zelliastra corrected him. Kicking back her chair she climbed the table. As she activated her godly aura the room fell silent.

"My name is Zelliastra. Perhaps you heard of me. I am the Goddess of chainmail bikinis. When I was new to the world no one believed my message. Now everyone knows it as true. The lad you just witnessed was no mere mortal. It was my daughter Zsofenia in disguise. her message is hard to believe, but please pay her attention."

Lucasus climbed up beside her. "A daughter, eh?"

Zelliastra gave him a wink.

"The next trickster Goddess will be our son."

"Deal," Zelliastra agreed.

With both in agreement, Lucasus activated his godly aura too. "It is as my beautiful wife said. Our daughter Zsofenia only wants the best for you. And who here really likes to go to the outhouse anyway?"

Stunned people around them nodded, but one had the will to speak up. "But why is your daughter disguised as a lad?"

Zelliastra gave him a beaming smile. "Because she is even more beautiful as I am. Fearing that people might be distracted by it she chose to stay hidden."

"Please good people spread the word," Lucasus threw in. "But keep our names secret. Our daughter is as proud as she is beautiful."

There were more questions and the holy couple only too eager to answer them.

As they eventually left, Zelliastra whispered to her husband. "A daughter. Only a few decades left. I hardly can wait."

A mile down the road a trickster God sneezed. Clueless that his destiny had been just rewritten.