Like so many others, This One was drifting before The Vortex pulled it in, and when it was pulled in, oh how it was pulled. With the force of nothing else, it was spat out. It collided with the ground with enough force to shatter it into more pieces than should exist for one soul. The water gave pigment to the soul fragments as they each grew into small, intricate forms.

While others were gathering their senses, This One was gathering its soul. Some pieces rolling, others slithering, still others hauling. This One appeared to be nothing discernible at first, but, like a puzzle of a million and one pieces, the picture grew clear. Nine long, stick thin limbs were worming from one curved torso. Each piece connecting to the others like magnets. A head, and hair. With the basics down, the limbs begin to grow thicker, the hips wider, and the hair longer.

When This One had the strength, it stood, and drank its surroundings. There were many others leaving the grand hall, a large handful still present, and one... One. The commanding presence was felt everywhere, even the minute space between the pieces.

While others observed the surroundings, This One stared at the manifestation of this power, for it was the only thing it felt it could not understand. Not even in a million years.

The one that was The Architect spoke, telling the assembly what it was, but still, it remained an Enigma. As it spoke, This One, who was now E̵̩̗̓̓ų̶̲͙̬̯̝̫̔̃r̶͙̬̈́̊̂͌̄͝ŷ̴͖̳͗ͅs̴͈̞̬̝͉̉t̵̼͘h̶͕̞̰̎̐̽̈͛͊ę̵͕̩̗͖͈͊̋͘n̶̙͎̮̈̄͛̌͝e̴͚̊̏̈̄͋͝s̴̼͛͂̽, knew that it needed to bring confusion to others, as The Architect had done to it. The only true power to be held is that which others do not understand, and while it had no interest in power, it had interest in understanding. To twist others' understanding and halt their process was the true nature of This One that was E̵̩̗̓̓ų̶̲͙̬̯̝̫̔̃r̶͙̬̈́̊̂͌̄͝ŷ̴͖̳͗ͅs̴͈̞̬̝͉̉t̵̼͘h̶͕̞̰̎̐̽̈͛͊ę̵͕̩̗͖͈͊̋͘n̶̙͎̮̈̄͛̌͝e̴͚̊̏̈̄͋͝s̴̼͛͂̽. And so it was.

The others in the room were yelling, laughing, kicking, fighting, growing, and discovering, but for all that could have distracted E̵̩̗̓̓ų̶̲͙̬̯̝̫̔̃r̶͙̬̈́̊̂͌̄͝ŷ̴͖̳͗ͅs̴͈̞̬̝͉̉t̵̼͘h̶͕̞̰̎̐̽̈͛͊ę̵͕̩̗͖͈͊̋͘n̶̙͎̮̈̄͛̌͝e̴͚̊̏̈̄͋͝s̴̼͛͂̽, not a thing did. All that existed was The Architect, and This One stood, staring it right into the pupil. For what can one do if one does not see the whole picture? How would one do anything if they were t̶o̶b̷ ̵e̶i̵n̸ t̴̜̜̱̎̄̀̃o̴̧͖̥̟̊̎̑ț̴̡̳̻͠a̷̧͈͐̚͝ ̸̛̮͖͑̃̃l̴̜̖̈́́̂͘c̵̹̪̬̳͚̓́̊̆̆͋͊͘͜͜͜ǫ̵̛̮̭̹̣͙̰̝̎̑̇̃̃͑̐ ̷̦́͊̌̍͝ͅn̶̰͌̅̀ ̵̪̤̜̰̜͍͓̭͋f̸̦̜̀̏̿̋̂ư̶̹̩̖̱̞͌̊̓̐́̃͠s̷̻͌͊̈́͊̈́͠ȋ̶̭ ̵̝̩̬̜͇͙̝̟͒̑͆̈͗̈́o̶̲͇̺͑̄ñ̵̗̣̖̞̋̿

What was t̶̙̰͗̽h̵̭͑ả̸̝̊t̷̠̉̃?̶̯̏̋

This One snapped its head around to see everything.

A small object. Was there a crash? Someone was yelling... no, everyone was talking. The tentacle monster was blabbering. There was a giant rainbow feathered thing. Wait, someone was yelling. She was throwing things at The Architect. Broke his concentration... she broke its concentration.

Eurysthenes shifted its pieces, scuttling over to the red haired woman on its now elongated arms, before resuming its regular visage. There was no mouth, but maybe a clicking caused it to speak, "A̶s̵ ̴t̸h̷e̵ ̶A̴r̵c̷h̴i̴t̴e̸c̷t̷'̵s̶ ̷v̴i̸s̴a̷g̷e̵,̵ ̶a̴s̷ ̶a̷ ̶c̷h̴i̶l̶d̵,̴ ̸n̶o̴t̵ ̵a̷s̷ ̸t̴h̸o̵s̵e̴ ̸w̸h̴o̷ ̶w̸i̷s̵h̸ ̷t̴o̴ ̴s̴t̵a̵g̶n̵a̴t̷e̶,̸ ̶b̷u̷t̵ ̶a̴s̶ ̶t̶h̸o̶s̶e̴ ̸w̷h̵o̸ ̶r̸e̷m̸a̵i̵n̴ ̴m̷o̶t̶i̸o̶n̷l̸e̸s̴s̴.̶ ̵W̶h̴a̴t̸ ̶w̵a̴s̴ ̵I?̵ ̴" it asked, its face nearly touching the shorter woman's. "Y̴o̵u̵ ̵a̶r̶e̸ ̷a̸s̶ ̸y̴o̶u̶r̶ ̴h̸a̴i̶r̵ ̶i̷s̶,̶ ̴b̸u̶t̵ ̶n̶o̵t̴ ̶a̷s̴ ̷i̷t̷ ̴w̴a̵s̶.̷ ̷L̸i̵v̴i̷n̶g̶,̵ ̶y̵o̸u̸ ̸a̵r̶e̴ ̶a̵ ̷p̷a̵r̴t̸ ̷o̸f̴,̶ ̵a̸n̷d̵ ̸o̴n̷e̷ ̷w̶o̶u̵l̵d̸ ̴h̷a̸v̸e̶ ̷y̵o̷u̸ ̸w̸e̴r̷e̶ ̶t̵h̴e̷ ̸c̶o̸n̸t̵e̷n̶t̷s̵ ̷s̸h̸i̴f̴t̴e̷d̴ ̶u̶p̵.̶ ̶S̴o̴m̸e̸ ̵m̶a̷y̷ ̵c̶a̴l̵l̷ ̷y̷o̴u̸ ̶n̸e̵e̶d̶l̶e̶s̸s̷,̴ ̸b̸u̴t̶ ̷t̵h̵o̴s̷e̶ ̶t̷h̶a̸t̵ ̸d̶o̸ ̷a̵r̵e̴ ̷f̶e̴e̵l̴i̷n̷g̵ ̵y̶o̵u̵,̴ ̵a̷n̸d̵ ̵b̸e̶c̶o̷m̶i̷n̸g̸ ̶h̷e̵e̷d̶l̷e̸s̴s̸.̶ ̵W̷h̸a̸t̵ ̴a̶r̷e̴ ̵y̶o̶u̴?̷"

Fire and wind and desolation erupted into the Architect's chamber, things the little god saw in blurs from beneath the waves. It kicked into the water, trying to stand among the titans- and was noticed. A new colossus caught the flailing figure in a coil of its tentacles, lifting it effortlessly up from the torrent and to a great height. A gaze without eyes met with an eye that should not, and perhaps never should have, been.

"Fortunate..."

But not for you, o demon.

Caught in the vastness of ANZILLU's visage (for she knew his name, had always known his name), drowning in the awesome and terrible song of his voice, dwarved a thousandfold by the magnitude of his presence, that spark of divinity that slept in the little god awoke into a fire. Without thought, nor feeling, nor pain, joy, or fear, the skewered godlet reached back into its hair, and drew a great cleaver.

In a single sweep of metal elegance, the godlet freed itself. A moment later, the great crash of the Demon's severed fingertip falling into the water reverberated through the chamber.

For its own part, the little god did not land, but fell, still holding its dress in its teeth, until caught on the back of the great macaw. The shimmering light of the wind-god's plumage dazzled the gremlin, but it did not leap, or fight. There was warmth here. Besides, it had lost its cleaver.

"I have you small friend. Are you alright?"

The little god pulled the dress from its mouth with one hand, and, for the first time in a long, long minute, exhaled. It could finally remember what peace felt like. It felt good.

"I..." Another long breath. No more running. "I... I like... I like your feath-"

Nope.

Launched bodily from Azura's back by a sudden red blur, the little god was hurled into freefall, and this time landed hard. Its bones wiggled and creaked in the water as it tried, for the manyth time, to stand up. And to its credit, it was getting rather good at that, but fate had other designs, and the red blur returned.

'I've got you Meatchops.'

And she did. Divinity aside, there was a world of difference between the two naked women, including about five stone of pure muscle. The little god pushed weakly against Seihdhara's grip, and eventually went limp. But before long, Seihdhara started screaming, and s̸̵oḿ̸et̨h̢̧͡i̷͜͝n͏g̷͏ ̀b̢̡͘r͜͠o͝kę̸́ņ approached them and started clicking...

Exhausted and weary of sensory overload, the little gremlin still managed to hear enough of the warrior-goddess's speech to finally pick up a new and valuable word: "FUCK-!"

Flailing with both of its free arms while holding the dress in a third, the little god scrabbled, scratched and bit Seihdhara, drawing blood with its needle-like teeth and leaving welts around her throat with its hair until a moment later it managed to push itself out of her grip. It rolled over the water and stood, staring down the hostile universe, and wiped its mouth.

"Fuck."

For a moment it stared down the other two. Then the little god wrung out her tattered dress and yanked it over her head. "Fuck this," it said with its face under the fabric. "Fuck you. And you. And you especially." Its head popped out and gave no further clarification. It started to do up its surviving buttons. "I mean... Sorry. This... wasn't what I expected."

Was anyone listening? It couldn't tell. But in the end, it found that it didn't really care either. In fact, it didn't even give a fuck.

They took shape and scurried about so quickly...it was jarring to have so much motion, so much vibrancy, all of this life in his lonely world of dust and dark. But his one great eye kept track of them all, nonetheless. In the wake of the first one's departure the other gods began to gain their bearings, some faster than others; however, only one had the audacity to address him.

She had only a simple inquiry, "Why?"

His piercing gaze had already all but impaled her, but the moment that the word began to leave Melantha's lips -- or was it an instant before? -- the ancient god began to tense and shift in his throne so as to face even more directly at her, and by that point his eye was practically swallowing her whole. The depths of his black pupil were bottomless and unfathomable, yet even still, one could sense his anger in there without even seeing it. The very question had seemingly offended him.

'What could you hope to know of such things? Your mind could not fathom what I am,' the cyclops whispered without lips. Though she did not escape his eye, for none ever could, his stiffened body relaxed ever so slightly as he spoke louder, addressing them all. "My cause is beyond your understanding, but my instructions are not. When I give them, I expect that they will be obeyed."

As he spoke, there was one goddess wreathed in fiery red hair and equally fiery fury. Even as some other struggling divine fought to free itself from the red one's overbearing grasp, the fiery Seihdhara met his eye with two of her own. Her hands reached down to the ground, and finding no loose stones, used a titanic grip to tear free chunks of the palace's tiled ground. And then there was a whistling in the air as she hurled the first stone at his massive visage.

Her aim was true, but the stone never struck. By his will, it froze in the air and was suspended halfway through its arc, as was the second stone, and the third. And the god upon his throne was furious.

"I will teach you to respect your elder."

There was a slight flick of his wrist, and suddenly an explosion of light erupted from beneath Seihdhara. She tried to jump in panic, but that movement brought her into a collision with some unseen object. She flailed her arms, but they couldn't move, for the magical seals had enveloped her body and trapped her in what might as well have been an invisible sarcophagus.

A small stir of his finger made the cage contort in strange ways, and for a brief moment the air simmered and light bent as the barriers came to press into her long tresses of hair and become entangled.

The god that embodied confusion began to offer some riddle, its quick clicking and jabbering coinciding with a momentary pause in the Architect's speech; however, there was hardly time for her to contemplate its puzzle even if she'd wanted to.

The Enlightened One leaned forward in his throne, watching Seihdhara squirm. 'The fortitude of your frame, the blood in your hair and flesh, the very air that you breathe. I gave you all of this! Before I brought you here, you were nothing but a worthless echo, a formless shadow, doomed and trapped in the Beyond. Such a waste.'

With a shearing pull that painfully tugged at her hair and tore a few tufts free, the seals shattered. The force of their breaking threw Seihdhara onto her back, on the cold hard tile of his palace floor. The Architect's eye told her to flee and thank the stars for his mercy, but perhaps that was simply a projection of her own imagination.

Quickly the Architect's expression once again became unreadable as he followed the motions and doings of all the other gods, even those that had departed.

To say there had been nothing would be a blatant misrepresentation of reality. The entity had existed for hundreds of millions of years. It had felt, had acquired knowledge, during those megaannum it had existed, even as it lay in a state similar to coma for a living being. Even so it had been aware of what was occurring in the world. It felt as each flower bloomed, as each blade of grass gave its life to nourish an animal, as each tree was felled by the chopping of an axe. It felt as the plantlife, that which had caused her existence, began to dwindle. As the greed of a few led the world down a path of death and destruction. And through all of this the entity could do nothing except exist.

And then the entity awoke.

For the first time the entity had a coherent thought. It was a thought of pain and terror as it was torn away from all it had known and pulled towards a being whose power the entity could not even begin to comprehend.

And just as the entity had suddenly acquired consciousness, so too had it acquired form. It looked down, for now it had eyes, to gaze at a hand so very reminiscent of the greedy creatures from her origin point. Why had she, the entity realized it was female in both mentality and form, been given the appearance of those who had caused her so much pain? Even as the question had formed in her mind she had found the answer: because at one time they had lived alongside nature, loved it just as she had loved them. It was only after hundreds of thousands of years that they had allowed themselves to become tainted in the beings of greed that was even now destroying their world.

And just as she had acquired her form from the greedy creatures, so too had she acquired her name from them. Phystene. That was what the greedy creatures had whispered with reverence before they had become greedy. Mother of Plants.

Phystene listened to the Architect as she slowly looked at those who had also been gathered. She observed them with a sense of curiosity she had never before had. They were so odd… yet felt so familiar. Some of the other… gods, yes that was what they were, panicked. Others began conversations with each other. One even threw a rock at the Architect in a, in Phystene’s opinion, foolish fit of rage. And through all this Phystene felt only calm.

Phystene felt herself naturally drawn towards some of the gods, those whose duties most aligned with her’s or were most likely to be beneficial to the plants she would spread throughout this new world. But of all these gods and goddesses, Phystene was drawn most strongly towards the goddess Asceal, who would inevitably nourish the majority of Phystene’s plants. Without even being fully aware of it, Phystene began to saunter towards Asceal.

---

---

---

---

Through his fiery persona, the god looked upon the others that were lined up around the Architect. He was far from the only being to be born here. Many other unwanted brethren of his were also doing their things amongst one another. Already there was a plentiful portion of different things taking place all at once. Some gods were already conversing with another - like the slimy fish-god known as Shengshi and a snake-like dragon known as Arae. Some were being rambunctious little shits - with one particularly fiery lady daring to defy her Architectural Creator or the tiny godlet "Choppy" that cursed the word "fuck". And some - like Sartr himself - were fuming in absolute rage at the situation - such as the dark figure that is Orvus. And that monstrous abomination of an "orge" was just... well there.

And there were definitely gods that he knew he'd despise. In fact, from the minute of what he had already observed, he knew he was going to hate most of them.

And Sartr? He was alone. No one seemed to take very much note of him. He was far away from all the action that was taking place anyways. And frankly, he didn't care much for it all. In the meantime, he looked down at himself with flaming white-hot eyes to inspect his new form. Flames seethed from his molten body, with magma dripping from his thick luscious beard and down onto his toned abs. He was enwrapped in a fiery dance of deep reds, predominant oranges, bright yellows, and gleaming whites. And once he got to his feet, that's when he realized that he found himself completely in the nude. Even his mighty long sword happened to be showing.

A big, flaming, and... floppy "sword" at that...

What kind of weapon was this?

He'd then hear something emit from the Architect nearby as he spoke to the fiery woman.

'The fortitude of your frame, the blood in your hair and flesh, the very air that you breathe. I gave you all of this! Before I brought you here, you were nothing but a worthless echo, a formless shadow, doomed and trapped in the Beyond. Such a waste.'

But soon, his body reacted to the environment with rage as the furious flames circled around him with minds of their own. They wanted out from this dark, dank, place. They want to roam free and burn all that come across them. There was nothing of substance here worthwhile. Sartr clenched his fists in rage as he looked up at the architect with major abhorrence.

"YOU." he growled with a snarled expression, "WHY HAVE YOU BROUGHT US HERE? I WANT OUT OF THIS MISERABLE PLACE! I WANT TO ROAM AND LET THE FLAMES ENGULF THE WORLD! THERE IS NOTHING FOR ME HERE!"

His bellowing questions were perhaps loud enough to make his presence known at last, but whether or not they'd care much for a mere outsider was up to interpretation.

In that great chamber where the Architect sat were souls, divine essence and water. The Architect banished all but a handful of chosen souls from his chamber and these chosen souls drunk deeply of the divine essence and became living gods. And with the power granted by the divine essence infused with their souls these new gods conjured matter and sculpted bodies of all varieties to house their spirit.

Yet raw divine essence is a fickle thing. It is creation manifest. It is the power of the gods. It bends the universe and reality to conform to itself. And it is loathe to be inactive.

The room was rich with divine essence, too much for the souls gathered to all absorb. So this free divine essence sought substance to which it could bind. It tried the stone of the cavern, but found it too unyielding. It tried the air within the cavern, but found it too weak. So instead it suffused through the water of the cavern, the water which flooded the bottom of the chamber and which fell in great sheets from the sundered aquifer above. And from this binding of matter and divinity, the water became a god.

Yet what was a god without form, who could not manifest? Gods create, and every god's first creation is their own form. But the water-who-was-god had no notion of its own form. It carried no vestiges of a past incarnation like the souls around it. Nevertheless the water-who-was-god gathered itself together. The great body of water in the chasm began to flow towards a single point, accumulating into a rising bulge. As the water gathered, the flow accelerated and the bulge rose higher, defying gravity and entropy until to stood like a colossal wave, towering over all but the largest beings in the room. Although it hadn't yet a mind to express the feeling, the water-who-was-god felt powerful. By its strength and might it had overpowered the force of gravity to manifest its vast form, and this taste of power left it wanting more, to exercise dominion over other forces of nature.

Yet power was only part of the impetus given by divine essence. The water-who-was-god was missing creativity. What was the use of all this power if it did not create anything? The water-who-was-god had assembled a featureless blob for itself, but this was inadequate. The water-who-was-god felt the divine essence of the others around it and felt their forms, water lapping at the feet of those in the chamber. It felt most strongly the aura of the Architect, so it started by imitating aspects of its form. The blob narrowed at a point near the top, pinching off a smaller blob of water which could pass for a head. Two great protrusions of water stretched out from either side of the water-who-was-god like arms just below its 'neck', water falling in great droplets and being pulled back up through the base of the water-who-was-god.

Finally, the water-who-was-god imitated the Architect's great eye. Water swirled around its head, creating an indentation which vaguely resembled an eye, and the divine essence peered through it and came to see the cavern and everyone within. The Architect dominated the room by his mere presence, but there were other gods too. It inspected the lesser gods and their diminutive forms, both with its eye and by feeling through the water. The water-who-was-god realised that it was not restricted in its creation, that it could create a new shape for itself. There were so many forms to choose from!

Tendrils of water rose up and wrapped around the water-who-was-god. Watery limbs sloughed off, falling with a splash into the lake below and replaced by new limbs with new shapes. Faces sculpted themselves into the water-who-was-god before being washed away by turbulent currents. The water-who-was-god exercised creation in its own form, sampling every shape it could sense.

Yet after a few seconds the water-who-was-god stilled, a blob once more. It had no purpose, no reason, no direction, so had been shifting randomly. Yet this was just as unsatisfactory as having no form at all. It needed a purpose. It needed thought. It needed what the other gods in the room had -- a soul.

The water-who-was-god might not have had the capacity for true thought, but its divine essence recognised its will. So a soul coalesced within the water-who-was-god, a soul shaped to what it knew -- power and creativity. The water-who-was-god looked out at its kindred divines as this soul took shape and it became aware of itself. The water-who-was-god's purpose crystallised and it came to know its nature and identity.

Yet the identity was missing a form. The water-who-was-god looked at the gods and goddesses in the room with a newfound awareness. It felt their souls and essence, then the water-who-was-god found the traits it felt best described itself and pulled the water into a more definite form. The form was wide at the base, so as to be well-connected to the water; the water-who-was-god even extended far into the water below, but that part was formless. The form extended upwards with smooth and elegant curves. Near the top two 'arms' extended, although these too were made from flowing curves which branched at the end into fingers. Above the bulge where the arms connected was a narrowing like a neck followed by a round blob of water like a head. On one side of this blob the water shaped itself into a supple face with two eyes, a nose, a mouth and ears, this face being the most sharply defined part of the form. From the top and back of the head fell water in great streams, running down the form's back. The form resembled a human woman, like a number of the goddesses around her, although many times their size and made entirely from water.

The water-who-was-god had awareness, understanding, a persona and now a form fitting of her persona. But her identity was missing one crucial element -- a name. The water-who-was-god stalled in thought. It heard the others speaking around her, voices and noises being made, so it started by imitating them. Rushing water within her produced sounds as she toyed with phonemes, finding sounds which had a pleasant flow.

"Shhh...llll...ooaa...shhh...ll...ff...hhhh...ss...ll...aaassshhh...llaaa..." She then stood upright and the water-who-was-god declared her name with a voice like waves breaking on a beach. "Ashalla!"

Then Ashalla let out a joyous laugh which rang like undersea echoes. She had created a name and a form and an identity! She now knew who she was and was revelling in the power and creativity which she now knew she wielded. What else could she do?

Ashalla surged forwards, her form losing distinction as she became a hurtling wave that raced around the room. Yet there was a disturbance in the water, a force acting against her. It was the god with a form larger than her own, rivalled only by the Architect in size, who was a mountain of flesh covered in metal. Its motions and own bellowing laughter was sending waves through the enormous lake. It was influencing her domain, the water from which she was made, and it made her indignant.

Ashalla slowed to a halt and regained some of her appearance. She felt the water of this lake, a lake so large some might have called it a sea, and felt its every wave and ripple. Ashalla's form sunk down as she extended her essence into the water of the lake, then with a great heave she willed the waters to calm, and they obeyed. Waves stalled, currents stagnated and ripples faded.

There were several seconds of quiet, then they were broken by Ashalla's echoing joyous laughter. Euphoria washed over her from her exertion of power, greater than any of her previous feats. She was made for wielding this might.

Diffused throughout the lake, Ashalla took a moment to calmly observe the universe around her. The divines in the room were impossible to miss, but with her broadened senses all but the Architect were indistinct. With the cacophony of the chamber momentarily dulled, Ashalla saw the universe beyond the cavern. The sky dimly lit with the Barrier's magic framed a distant blue orb, and immediately Ashalla felt a connection with that orb. There was where she was meant to be. This lake was just a tiny taste of what lay in that Sphere beyond the cavern!

Ashalla gathered her essence once more and coalesced another watery form in time to hear the tirade of a man of blazing fire -- Sartravius, if the knowledge which had been imprinted into her and her feeling of the god's essence were accurate. Ashalla lurched towards him, and she spoke in answer to his question.

"Can't you see? We have been brought here to create!" Ashalla said in a voice like a sea breeze, carrying the mirth of her existence. She gestured upwards with an aqueous limb. "Look at that Sphere over there. I feel it is much greater than this place here. There we can exercise our might!"

Ashalla's form collapsed back into the water, then emerged a few moments later next to one of the floating crystals. "Come! We have a world to create!" she beckoned to Sartravius and the other gods.

A wonderful conversation, Shengshi thought to himself. It was splendid to see that more shared in his mind for peace and stability. However, when he once more surveyed the palace room and the oceans below, peace and stability sorely lacked. A result of creation, he reasoned, though an unfortunate one, at that. As his thoughts came to that conclusion, a blinding light shone from before the cyclops' throne, one that nearly equalled the deity he knew as Asceal in radiance. It enveloped the autumn-haired woman who had fallen from the sky a mere moment ago. It seemed not to be a sort of blessing, however, and as much was confirmed by the following deafening crack that left the goddess on the cold floor.

The snake, for all his pondering and observing, confessed to himself that he had done an awful job actually trying to help his new family, so to speak. He felt an awful clump of shame in his chest for just having watched the poor little sack of bones and sticks be bowled about by the raw forces manifesting in the area earlier, so he decided that a good way to redeem himself would be to help the fiery woman. However, he spotted the little, raggedy collection of skin and bones, now enveloped in a wet dress that was missing a few too many buttons. He gave a sympathetic sigh and slithered his way over as she fled the scene of the Architect's punishment.

It was a far warier and more worldly figure now than what Shengshi had seen only a minute ago. Though eyeless, the devil-woman stood tall as it met the river sprite's gaze, needle-thin and needle-toothed, and needle-eyed besides. Biting its lip a little, it conceded a perfunctory bow. Shengshi portruded his lips in surprise at the sight of someone bowing to him and returned the gesture, folding his clawed hands together and bowing as low as he could without tipping over. The gesture seemed to put her a little at ease.

"In the name of our holy creator, dearest sister Chopstick Eyes, I give you my most amicable greeting. I hope you are well regardless of the unfortunate events that just occurred." Shengshi lifted his head and offered a sympathetic smile. The gremlin wheezed something that could be construed as a chuckle, and shrugged one shoulder.

"Chopstick eyes... I have chopstick eyes." She looked up at Shengshi with a weak grin. "Holy... Yeah, I guess he is. Thank you, Shengshi." The name was there, as were all the others. "I can't say I'm well. But I've never been better," she added, the smile cracking wider. Shengshi chuckled softly and clapped his hands a few times. "Ah, yes! A fantastically well put statement, indeed! I am glad to hear that your morale remains strong. True, indeed, to the nature of the flow - unyielding even in the face of obstacles! If I may inquire, though, what happened to that lovely kitchen tool you brought with you?" The snake-man looked around casually as to stress his question.

It was an excellent question.

"Uh-hhh..." Chopstick Eyes pulled two neat chopsticks from her eyes with her fingers, clicked them once, then threw them aside. She reached back into her hair, pulled out a gleaming fish-knife, and threw that away too. "These? No. This one? Nuh... This? Nuh uh." After a good number of culinary implements had been retrieved and discarded, she finally shrugged. "I'm... dunno." The snake-man heaved a sigh. "Oh, you poor thing. It is a tragedy to lose an item close to oneself, indeed... May-... Mayhaps it is still around? You landed in the water, correct?" Shengshi slithered over to the edge of the palace floor, giving the cackling giant a quick stare, thinking it was fortunate that at least someone was happy about being brought into this world. Once he came to the edge, he took a moment to gaze into the darkness below. "How deep do you think this is, by the way?"

"...It's deep," said Chopstick Eyes. She picked up the fish-knife and threw it in. It disappeared. "Deep... Hey, what's that?" She motioned to the brightly glowing blue sphere hovering somewhere far below.

"Hmm? Where?" Shengshi tossed his head about for a few seconds before his eyes finally caught onto the obvious subject of the question: The little blue marble, illuminated perhaps by Asceal's radiance, hovering in the distance. Shengshi crossed his arms and smiled. "I believe, dearest sister, that that blue orb is our new home. N'aaw, it looks so small from here! Wait, how big is it, actually?" The snake-man looked to the Architect as if he was about to ask, but hesitated upon remembering the previous attempts his new relatives had made. He cleared his throat. "I guess we will find out very soon." Shengshi plucked at his mustache absent-mindedly. "Have you got anything in mind for it? The world, that is."

"Oh... You know. Taste it. Rub it on my skin. Yourself?" Shengshi raised a long, stiff eyebrow and pondered for a moment the properties of a planetary skin ointment. He decided not to prod further. "I am glad you asked!" Shengshi cleared his throat and put his palms together. "I will spread the message of the flow to this world - uniting all of creation under the banner of prosperity!" He tapped his chin as Chopstick chuckled. "... And write some literature along the way to catalogue the progress of said quest. While on that subject, you would not happen to have a brush on you, by chance? An ink brush of sorts."

Chopstick Eyes tapped her own chin, copying him, then went 'oh' and reached back into her hair, retrieving a basting brush. It was rather thick, and a little bristly, but it would probably do for ink what it did for a marinade. "This?"

Shengshi reached for the brush and took it in his proportionally much larger hand. "Yes, this is perfect!" It wasn't, but he was not one to complain. "Now for some ink... And a surface to write on!" He lowered his torso down to the floor and put the pencil against the stone floor. However, he visibly hesitated.

"The blessed Architect will perhaps not be too happy if I write on His floor, will He?" The snake-man huffed.

"Oh I think he can handle it," said Chopstick with no certainty, but no hesitation either.

Shengshi shook his head. "No, I would rather not write on my host's floor..." He pondered for a little bit. "But I -can- write on myself! You would not happen to carry some ink in that magnificent hair of yours, by the way?" Shengshi did some dry strokes on the beige parts of his tail to practice his form.

"...Magnificent... I'll try my best!" Spurred on by the compliment and increasingly excited to see the hand of her most cultured sibling, Chopstick stopped chewing her hair and began to rummage, but found nothing. All she could produce, in the end, was a skewer from her eye still holding a droplet of blood. "...Sorry."

Shengshi tried to keep his recoil as small as possible at the small godling pulled the bloody skewer out of her socket, but accepted it with all the grace he could muster in the moment - which amounted to accepting the gift with both hands and a thankful nod. "Ah, that is... Just what I needed! Thank you, dearest sister!" He hesitated for a short moment before coating the brush in the blood and bringing it to his abdomen, where he proceeded to write down the characters of his poem. He grimaced a little at the temperature of the ink - not that it was cold; rather that it was lukewarm - but kept writing nonetheless.



He poked at his chin with the brush, trying to find a suitable end to the first line.



The snake-man looked satisfied at the characters on his abdomen. He leaned down to the water to wash the brush and handed it back to Chopstick, snapping her out of her dozy admiration. She accepted it, after a second's pause

"I like it!" she exclaimed, a little too loud. "I like how the... Letters all fit together. And... They look so nice next to your scales..."

Shengshi's sharp-boned cheeks took the colour of his scale coat and he waved a hand dismissively. "N'aw, gosh, you are just saying that! Thank you!" He gave a curt, grateful bow, making sure not to smudge the writing. The snake-man took a moment to admire his work once again before straightening his back and looking around. Chopstick sheepishly rubbed the back of her head and managed a smile.

"Come! We have a world to create!"

Shengshi eyed the colossal humanoid he knew as Ashalla, who stood by her crystal ready to depart. Chopstick jolted at the boom of her laughter. Shengshi put his hands on where his hips would have been and let out a sigh.

"Someone is certainly in a hurry," he mumbled.

"Probably for the better," Chopstick replied. "Too many gods is a dangerous thing." She looked back up. "I'm going to go find my cleaver again. Will you stay here?"

"I think so, yes. There are still plenty of siblings to greet and get to know! Would you like some help finding that cleaver of yours?"

"I think I'll be all right!" said Chopstick, sticking out her tongue. She felt better than ever. It wasn't saying much, but it was saying something. "Godspeed, Shengshi!"

"And godspeed to you, dearest sister Chopstick Eyes. Please, do visit some time!"

And with a splash of bare feet and the swish of a tail, they parted ways.

Name in mind and with the sensory overload of birth fading away, Urhu turned her attention to the run. For a moment, they all had come to know each other, a sort of bonding moment. ’I guess they are family now?’ she pondered ’Never thought I would be kin to a parrot.” but there she was.

Not all thoughts were funny, many of her ‘siblings’ seemed disturbed, some vile, and the way the god of death had left after the souls with such an eager hurry was unsettling. It was perhaps the ones who thought of themselves as good that worried her most, the likes of Asceal seemed eager to judge others by the size of their shadow without realizing it was their blinding light that created them.

From there onward Urhu would pay special attention to her and the gods that flocked around her, like moths to a flame. It did not escape her that other deities looked at that direct with far less caution, some, in particular, seemed way too focused on Aelius. Urhu figured out why, but really did not see why, she never got the allure of these larger than life sorts.

Flames, screams, torrents, did not distract her, but what did was the absurd events around the weird humanoid deity called Chopstick Eyes. She couldn’t help but smirk as she chopped away at one deity, seemed like the title of Choppy was worthy of her. The smile on her face was quickly erased however when the Architect reacted to one of the deities rebelling.

The actions itself were justifiable in a weird sense, she could see herself doing something similar if a lesser being was throwing rocks at her, but actions did not exist in a vacuum, and all previous context of this Architect was pissing her off. A respectable god should have a consistent method and should not copout from justifying his actions, else its all random violence, tyranny. It was a good reminder for her that now she was a goddess, and that she should strive to be a fair one.

She tried to also not overthink her distaste for the Architect, she was a goddess and that meant her realm was that blue marble of a world bellow, not the intrigue or needs of her siblings, nor the role of this overlord. Furthermore, she remembered some words, she did not remember from who or in what context.

-Besides, there are few secrets that can be kept from the Gods.-

So, for now, it was worthless to antagonize this one-eyed creature, until she could figure out what the ‘few’ were. ”Tu emu soh oh yeokeahea ha ey” was her last thought on the matter, then with a sigh, she moved away from the wall she had been leaning on.

”Thought you were a goner for a moment there.” she said, walking towards Seihdhara, who was a comfortable distance from the people she wished to eavesdrop. ”But glad you are fine, rare to see anything like you in this sea of sticks-in-the-mud and sycophants.” she extended a hand to help her ‘sister’ up from the ground.

---

Eye of absolute obsidian, peerless and inescapable, gazed for a long moment at the wiry goddess, Chopstick. Pain marred its senses none, loathsome ichor free to rape the serenity of reality and impregnate it as it sprayed forth its hideous seed. Sinew wrought itself from the flesh of its flesh, freed from its body by the little one. The bastard god paid no attention to going-on of lost tissue.

-“Intriguing.”- a quiet yet hideous voice echoed into the expanse. Able was this Chopstick. Study was feasible; a later objective added to the primary and secondary directives.

After a long moment of consideration, its obsidian gaze shifted, taking in newer existences with a renewed tenor of disinterest. Prattling some were. Ever-questioning others were. THE ABHORRENT found the objective of the Architect to be rather uncomplicated, obvious to entities even lacking in basic comprehension. Imbued into their existence was the Architect’s directive. It regarded the directive for but a moment, then buried deep within the flesh of its soul.

Inutile.

Moving. Again the bastard god shifted, appendages writhing like a million-billion worms in a confined space, chaotic in appearance yet entirely organized and full of purpose. Another small divine, this one Li’Kalla. Mental fortitude tenuous. Previous existence extremely strenuous. An entirely flawed entity. Her agony drew the bastard.

The colossal abomination coiled forward, close enough to swallow the entirety of the goddess whole with just its pupil.-“Trepidation inessential. Find solace in second genesis. Additional affliction unlikely. Engage in creator’s directive.”-

With that THE ABHORRENT rose once again and stared pointedly at the sphere bellow. The location in which the secondary directive was to be carried out. A twinge, a small thing, birthed within its flesh, a want, a need. It was not ignored, it was never to be ignored, only indulged.

---

Chaos was all that this Great Hall of Gods saw now. With more and more of Li'Kalla's kin forming bodies of their own, voicing their wills and showing off their powers, there was little to do but wait and hope they'd blow over and disappear of their own volition.

They won't...

So after a moment she lifted her upper body in such a manner as to avoid even looking at her monstrous summoner, and took in a deep breath--Or at least, as deep a breath as she could before a voice punched through her bubble.

"Ah... eh... I... I am Kalmar,"

Li'Kalla's face contorted. She grimaced and winced as if she was in pain upon being spoken to. She seemed to avoid looking at the fellow God, Kalmar.

"What danger do you sense? Why do you stay still? If you are in danger, you either fight or flee. It's better to fight, but some can only flee, like that one there..."

She spared a glance toward him. Tall, wearing clothes… She quickly averted her gaze when it wandered up to his face, but she was sure he was handsome as well.

Intimidating. She knew their type...

She pressed her lips together tightly and shook her head. ”I-”

"If you stay still, you get eaten."

”I-I know, I’m sorry...” She hung her head slightly and sighed. Kalmar seemed to have had some trouble getting used to having a voice, but not her.

Why am I acting like this? Am I not...

”I just… I dont...” But then she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself tightly. ”Don’t look at me, please… Not like that…”

---

Kalmar continued to look at her strangely, and then realization dawned upon him. “Oh!” The woman’s natural defensive strategy was to avoid being seen. That, too, was a valid approach. But her way of accomplishing that was still flawed. “If you don’t want to be looked at, then you need to hide. This is not a good spot. Behind one of those waterfalls, or one of those pillars, would be better,” he suggested helpfully.

Kalmar briefly glanced at the disturbances that were occurring elsewhere, noting that some gods seemed to take their own arrivals much more harshly, but he still awaited the woman’s response.

---

He kept looking at her. What did he want with her? Why was he talking to her? By all means, he should have never taken an interest in her! Unless…

She grit her teeth and looked at herself.

Like new...

This time she stood up and turned to hold Kalmar’s gaze. She felt her legs cramp up and had to keep her arms wrapped around herself. There was a fire deep in her gaze, one that was seen only once in a generation. She looked determined.

”I-” And she lost it. Once more, she looked away. This time, her gaze landed on the crystal platform she knew was meant for her. ”I… thank you… Ka… Kalmar?” Using names after so long...

There was a short silence.

Li’Kalla walked off to her crystal platform.

---

Kalmar nodded, and watched her leave. Had he made an ally today? He was unsure. There was much he was unsure of - how useful she would be, whether or not he had actually taught her anything, whether or not she would truly appreciate his words, or if he would even see her again. However, he had not lost anything from this conversation, so it was neither a victory nor a defeat.

He glanced at the rest of the room. Other gods were already heading through their own crystals, and he felt as though he should do the same. Yet other gods still remained, and he could see a group congregating. There was a woman who shone like a bright light, another woman who had green skin, and a smiling man. They too had recognized that there was safety in numbers, it seemed, so Kalmar decided he should make himself known to them. On that note, he approached them.

---

---

---

Following her question, Melantha waited patiently for the Architect to reply. During this time, many things could be said to have happened, like the awakening of many other gods; the nervous first steps of socialization that took place during this time could be summed up with a single word, "Interesting."

Melantha could not understand the Architect's plan clearly. He, as far as the knowledge that was passed on to her detailed, had created this world on His own and yet, He needed the support of other beings to manage it? One would think that by wielding as much power as He wielded - and it was a lot, Melantha could sense that much just by standing in His presence - simply managing this universe would have been far easier than doing whatever He did to create it in the first place.

While all this was going through her mind, Melantha kept staring at the unmoving Architect, waiting for an answer. Her question had been very simple and, in her opinion, perfectly reasonable. Considering His power, Melantha assumed that He would understand the underlying meaning of her question; Why create a being that contradicted the very reason He had called upon others for help, to maintain as well as further build upon what He had already set the foundations of. Her core being, the purpose that the Architect had given her had been that of encroaching darkness, not much different than the darkness she resided in before being summoned by Him. Was it His intention for her to become an enemy of the other gods? Would her sole reason for existence be to breathe conflict into this universe?

With every new god that awakened, a flickering flame emerged deep inside Melantha's mind, her connection with said god. If they had a name, she would know of it as well as their purpose and general disposition. Thus, she knew that there were others that fit better the role of bringer of strife. Would she be considered one of them?

Even with all the noise and ruckus created by the other gods, the Architect's words did not fail to reach Melantha's ears. The faint whisper of his voice penetrated her mind, bringing her back to reality and the realisation of how cold it could be. "What could you hope to know of such things? Your mind could not fathom what I am."

Melantha remained still as she replayed His words in her mind, trying to comprehend what she had heard. She lowered her head as the Architect continued on with his speech by addressing the rest of the gods, but Melantha had already zoomed out, too lost in thought to hear anything more.

But then, realisation struck her. A mirthless smile crept up Melantha's face as she pieced everything together: this was a simple game, a game of which they were nothing but pawns within the Architect's grasp.

A hand rose to Melantha's face, brushing her pitch-black mane backwards. The goddess' back straightened once more as she inhaled deeply, eyes closed, taking in her surroundings.

Then she opened her eyes, and they shined.

She would no longer consider the Architect, nor bother herself with deciphering the meaning behind his plans for this cosmos. Although powerful, he was only one at the end of the day.

With a flourish, Melantha floated to the precipice of the palace and looked down at the endless void. The beautiful void. Her eyes spotted a pale blue dot, and she instantly knew what it was. Marring this breathtaking scenery, this blue dot struck out like a sore thumb. A sudden bitterness assaulted Melantha's senses, but she suppressed it before finally turning her attention to the crystal platforms the Architect had prepared for them.

As many as the number of gods present, the platforms were supposed to take them to their respective seats of power, their Spheres of influence. Knowledge of the Spheres was included in the information passed on to her by the Architect, and Melantha instinctively knew that she could mould that specific piece of the universe to her liking.

With her mind already spinning ideas about what to do with the power given to her, Melantha started moving towards the crystal platforms...

---

---

Arae made her way through the hall, wondering who she should greet first. It seemed like some were already making friendly relations of their own with each other. Some were strange ones, and she wasn't sure how to interact with them. Others were already quite busy interacting with each other, forging new relationships already. All in all, Arae felt a joy she hadn't felt in literal millennia. She had a new diverse family to spend time with and interact with, and she wanted to spend time with them all. She really had to thank the Architect for this. Speaking of which, how was he doing-

Arae's joyful expression turned to one of shock as she saw a few of her godly family members confront the Architect, who in turn responded in similar ways to their actions. Alarmed, she quickly zipped over to the area, hoping that things would not escalate further than they already have. Fortunately, by the time she got there, the matter was already settling. Seihdhara was the one the Architect seemed to eye the most before he turned his attention to other things, but Seihdhara herself was otherwise unharmed. Chopstick Eyes was nearby, and had quite a foul mouth on her, but she was soon greeted by Shengshi. Arae breathed a sigh a relief, thinking that things were alright again.

But of course, her luck had to be pushed for thinking such thoughts. Sartravius had to try and stir up some more trouble. Arae turned to face him, and turned just a little more to avoid looking at certain... parts of him. Arae really thought he could do with a little coverage, at least. A little respect and decency could go a long way. "Sartravius, please, that's no way to act," Arae tried to mediate. "You shouldn't have flames engulf the world. See, follow Ashalla's example, and create something good for the world, rather than letting fire run free." Arae gestured towards Ashalla with a clawed hand, who was nearby one of the crystals that would send them off into the world.

---

Ohannakeloi was.

That was odd, for he could not truly remember being before. It was all a blur, a mix of memories and emotions that seemed fragmented that he could almost make out some idea of before they would fade away again. It didn’t seem all that important all things considered, given that existing so far had been quite strange and what was one more strange thing to him? As at first, it was quite loud, then very quiet, felt everyone then felt none, Ohannakeloi felt quite justified in his discombulation.

He settled, this now was the coming together of a form most natural for a being great as he. Two claws for shaping worlds and combat if necessary, a body covered in armor and a plenitude of legs for support, clearly the superior form for a superior being.

Ohannakeloi was a bit off put if he was going to be honest with himself, and who wouldn’t want to be honest with him? It seemed like the room was filled with different forms and such although a weird balancing act on two legs seemed predominant among those. Also notable was size, everything else was larger than himself, another strange occurrence which seemed to be quite normal here to have strange events happen, it was a bit annoying not having things happen as you would expect but it was quite livable. Well at least he was living it still and that seemed enough.

They were all an interesting bunch it seemed, although a lot had transpired already. Great happenings and conversations Ohannakeloi had no doubt his fellows were up to, even if he himself was paying particular attention to them. Well he did have his marching orders so to speak although lingering and actually going over to interact may have some value, he would do better to get a move on.

Ohannakeloi took to marching towards one of the remaining crystals, although he also tried to maintain sight of the majority of the others who remained with more or less success, mostly succeeding in not looking where he was going. Although he did have to admit, walking backward did not help in locating the crystals.

Upon the crystal, Vakk watched for any others who may have been moving along near him and yet he spied none. It mattered not to the likes of the Lord of Speech, who simply looked down to see the surface of Galbar rapidly approaching. His form moved to the back of the Crystal, afraid of hitting the bland surface and destroying this new form before he could do anything useful with it. Apparently, his most “glorious” summoner had not even decided to do anything with the surface, either he was lazy or he was weaker than his essence seemed to signify. Vakk felt an eerie smile creep across his face as he thought of the Architect being weak, giving him hope of being able to escape back to his own realm and finish what he had started.

However, something was off and Vakk could not exactly put what was wrong into true words. He felt a bit empty, as if part of him were missing despite just being summoned to this hellscape. Pondering but only for a moment, he realized that his mind did not contain the level of talk that was normally going about. He may have been the Bringer of Silence in his own realm but there were still those voices who would talk, if very faintly. Now, there was nothing but a maddening silence in his mind and he could feel no other presence within himself other than his own thoughts. He would call it perfection if he did not feel as if he were alone in his own mind.

The thoughts were quickly dashed as the crystal collided with the water of Galbar, causing massive waves to develop along the surface. Yet, this did not stop, or even slow the crystal, as it parted the water at such a speed that Vakk’s head was still in open air. He noted the ability of these crystals to move at amazing speeds, though he refused to attribute it to the Architect’s handiwork. Eventually, his form slammed into the crystal as it began to drill into the ground, still at an unbelievable speed.

As the crystal had no intention of slowing down, Vakk took the time to think over his position in this foreign realm. He knew that he was to be divinity and he was to loyally carry out the will of creation by the Architect. However, the Lord of Talk assumed that his ‘siblings’ were of free will and could do whatever they wanted. It was confusing why the Architect would allow this, as this increased the chance that the newly divine would be able to eventually formulate a way to dispose of him and take his mantle. It seemed that things were simpler back when it was just voice against silence, the end of conversation.

Being once more lost in thought, he failed to notice that he had reached his destination. It was empty, lifeless, and without even an utterance of a word.

”Oh maddening silence, endless stillness,
Be wary of me, your new illness,
For now do I behold, that an endless silence,
Oh how endless a silence, was once a defiance.
And how it shows me, that I…”

Vakk stopped his speech to look around for a mere moment, his tendrils digging his lower body into the blackened ground.

“Show me myself, so that I may learn a new path,” he commanded before he saw the back of himself appear in the distance. There was no darkness, no shadow on the bright figure of the mirrored Vakk. He leaned his head to the side before he looked back to see another mirror doing the exact same, both seemed equidistant, both seemed to be in the distance. ”Now speak, echoes that lie in the darkness. Speak so that this silence may be no more,” the Lord commanded of his new realm. It obeyed and in the darkness he could hear voices begin to speak. Only simple words or phrase such as “Stop”, “Go Forth”, or “I see”. Nonetheless, these echoes did their duty at dissipating the silence that had seemed to loom over Vakk.

”I name thee Sanvādam, and you shall only allow those I wish to speak too come to me,” the Lord of Speech told his realm. He would grow into his new home, much like a crab into its new shell.

Vakk has the time.

"FUCK-!"

It was the first Seihdhara had heard Meatchops speak, and it surprised her so much that she stopped throwing rocks at the impassive old ogre. In truth, she had swept the little Meatchops up on a whim. She had registered, in a distant sort of way, that she was a god and entirely capable of taking care of herself. But Seihdhara had been so certain that the newborn godling was distressed, in need of a strong shoulder to lean upon even for a few moments - and so, acting on impulse so natural that it did away with thought, she had brought Meatchops close. After all, of what use was her strength - ample enough for self-protection - if she did not use it for whoever seemed in need?
But Meatchops did not seem pleased at all - in fact, she seemed positively upset! And she clawed and tore and bit at Seihdhara's sun-kissed skin, and she ripped it open so that a furious crimson rose, seething with heat and aglow, bloomed from her back and shoulder and throat. And Seihdhara knew not what she had done for Meatchops to hurt her thus, but she pouted in the general direction of the little god as she scrambled rather spritely away. 'Meatchops!' Seihdhara called, hurt and glum at the thought that she might have scared her off or that she did not... like her. The Crimson Goddess kept her eye on the gnarly goddess for a little bit more, watching the defiance and hostility in her stance and words - and then the apologies that followed. Seihdhara laughed suddenly and bent her knees slightly, as if preparing for some godly rough and tumble. 'Oh I see! - if you need to get it out of your system the-' but she did not have the opportunity to finish her words or leap at Meatchops as she planned, for just then the statuesque Ugly Old Ogre turned on the warrior goddess - and it provided no answers to her (perhaps ill-put) requests, but sought only to punish and reprimand.

"I will teach you to respect your elder."

Seihdhara looked up and stood straight, defiant yet surprised - for she had not thought that her request was disrespectful. Perhaps throwing stuff at him had been a tad bit cheeky of her - but what kind of door-opening god felt bothered or threatened by a few rocks? They were only meant to draw his attention to the fact that he had left half of her behind! Yet before she could respond to him now that his focus was on her, he flicked his wrist, and all about her was blinding light and furious heat. She looked down at the source of the light and heat - her shortened flame-red hair whipping about her fitfully -, and she yelped slightly as she realised that she was trapped and her arms paralysed. Strange letters in a language unknown to her (if they were indeed letters and if it was a language at all, that is) appeared all about her naked form, slithering here and there like so many snakes bent on tying her down and suffocating her. And there was a stench of death.

She growled involuntarily, for she found that she could not speak a word, and there came to her memories of another place and another time when a different, but equally bitter and tyrannical, old man had taken her and locked her away too. The seals slithering across her skin seemed suddenly distant, and Seihdhara extended her sight and saw the singular sighing maw that was the Ugly Old Ogre's well of sight. Her eyes locked on his despite the pain and paralysis, and in the darkness of his neverending pupil was a room in which she sat staring out from an impossible height at her children oh so far below; who in turn stared piningly and unknowingly upward, with a nostalgia whose source they could not quite fathom - only that they longed oh so much for something up there. And her gaze had held in it no less yearning than theirs. Why, there is no pain that could compare to that found in the gaze of a mother severed from her children. By no choice her own had she been locked up then, and for no fault that she could fathom - only that she had loved and lived fully and without holding back. If respect would teach her to live and love otherwise, then that Ugly Old Fucking Ogre could take its respect and shove it down the big fat hole in its dumb little face!

As if reading her thoughts and seeing the fire of rebellion yet in her gaze, the cage suddenly contorted in strange and unnatural ways, and the invisible barrier she was trapped in pressed down on her, simmering and burning. And light bent and attacked her eyes, and her tresses of fiery crimson hair - short as they were - became trapped and entangled. She held until she thought she could hold no more, defied until she thought she had come to the end of defiance and struggled until the word and action became meaningless (why her very life, by the very act of holding onto it, was in itself struggle and resistance even if all else fell away). Through all this, she could hear a strange sort of jabbering coming from a not too distant place, and - against the will that held her in this cage - she turned her eyes towards the sound and gazed numbly at the clicking and jabbering thing. She found that she knew it to be a god, and found that she knew it to be Eurysthenes, and she found that she knew that it was doubtlessly riddling her something, but what this riddle was and why - of all times - it would choose to riddle her then she could not say. But perhaps that was the true riddle: not what it now jabbered but the one its actions spoke.


And then, even as Seihdhara struggled with all that she was, the voice of the Ugly Old Ogre sounded again and his gaze and her gaze were once again locked in silent battle. 'The fortitude of your frame, the blood in your hair and flesh, the very air that you breathe. I gave you all of this! Before I brought you here, you were nothing but a worthless echo, a formless shadow, doomed and trapped in the Beyond. Such a waste.' If she could, Seihdhara would have smiled, and then she would have laughed. Not derisively or unkindly, but simply because that was - well, a funny and odd thing to say. Not even the veiled lady had tried to claim that - in fact, she had been fairly truthful all things considered. She had not had any pretensions to powers beyond her; she had not claimed that she created Seihdhara or any of the other gods, or that she had given them strength or anything of the sort. She had found them, opened the door for them, and let them through. It was true that she had been powerful, but to Seihdhara's mind that was only because they had been in her world. And this here was no different. But that the Old Ogre should ascribe to himself acts that Seihdhara knew, with certainty, were not his made her suspicious. Only one who was overcompensating for something would need to do that. In other words, the Old Ogre was bullshitting her. Why he would do that - seeing as his power was clearly greater than hers or any of the other gathered gods - she did not know. In fact, she did not really want to know. He could bullshit all he wanted, so long as he opened the door and brought the rest of her through.

A sudden ripping at her hair pulled her from her thoughts, and she screamed inwardly as she felt a few tufts come loose. Almost as soon as her hair was desecrated, the prison shattered all about her and Seihdhara fell back limply. She landed heavily on her back, her head smashing against the tiles, and did not move. But even with her gaze turned upward, she could still see the unblinking gaze of the Ugly Old Ogre. The dumb twerp had an almost triumphal look in its eye! Idiot! But despite herself, Seihdhara admired one who, when wielding power over others wielded it with mercy. BUT WHAT WAS THE POINT OF MERCY IF HE WAS A STUPID UGLY OLD OGRE WHO PUNISHED THE INNOCENT (stone throwing aside, because that is hardly a crime against a bloody god)! FUCKER! And she would have told him as much were she not yet suffering from his assault.

Slowly but surely the Old Ogre's eye disappeared from her sight and she could now see the endless expanses of darkness above and Melantha, that goddess made of darkness and encased in it, rising up to it. Seihdhara had heard Melantha's question to the Old Ogre even though she had been fighting to keep the hole-in-all-things open at the time. Why. That had been the ask, and the answer had been no more assuaging than was the one to Seihdhara's own - forcefully rock-backed - ask. And it was clearly not out of a lack for answers that the Old Ogre refused to respond - for he had opened the doors before and could do so easily again - but out of some bitterness, or to spite them, or out of stubbornness, or maybe because it was cruel like that. Or maybe, like another old man she had loved and who had loved her too, that was simply how it expressed its love. A misguided and alienating way to do it, no doubt, but love nonetheless. Seihdhara loosed a frustrated sigh and frowned, her lips forming an exaggerated pout. 'Stupid old man. Stupid Old Ogre!' But her own words were hardly registered for immediately in their wake there erupted a volcano of explosive bellowing that caused her to sit up on her elbows and look to its source.

"YOU. WHY HAVE YOU BROUGHT US HERE? I WANT OUT OF THIS MISERABLE PLACE! I WANT TO ROAM AND LET THE FLAMES ENGULF THE WORLD! THERE IS NOTHING FOR ME HERE!" Brief silence followed the brave shouts (except for that weird Narzhak's incessant cackling), and then Seihdhara's own laughter joined Narzhak's cackles.
'That's my boyo! You tell that dumb old thing, Danglydong! She cheered, though her voice did not come out quite as loud as she was expecting. It was clear that the effects of whatever the Old Ogre had done to her had not completely faded. Before the Old Ogre could provide Danglydong with an answer, however, the strange water spirit - no, god, for she had learned quickly - that had been dashing hither and thither approached the furious fire god and spoke with the calmness of waves gently kissing and stroking the shore. The sound brought forth the memory of sand between her toes and the waves coming in gently before receding, then coming in again - seductive, unassuming, inconspicuous, alluring...safe - and slowly, oh so slowly, pulling you deeper and deeper in so that before you knew it you were knee deep in and knew not how or when you got so far. Aye, the lure of the sea had always gotten Seihdhara into trouble.

"Can't you see? We have been brought here to create!" The sirenesque Ashalla said and pointed with a watery tendril towards the Old Ogre's crystal spheres. "Look at that Sphere over there. I feel it is much greater than this place here. There we can exercise our might!" And then the siren was suddenly beside one of those spheres. "Come! We have a world to create!" she called, and Seihdhara sensed immediately that she was not only calling to Danglydong, but to all the gathered gods also. Considering whether to jump up and go after the siren, Seihdhara pressed her lips together and returned to her back. If past experience had taught her anything, it was that following the sea was a bad idea. Smiling mischievously to herself, she was on the verge of leaping up and giving chase to the siren when she realised that a pool of fiery ichor had been growing about her from Meatchops previous assault on her. Grimacing as she poked at the rather vicious injuries, she willed the wounds to close but found that, oddly, she had no power. She found this so strange that it took her a while to notice that something was crawling through her hair and was slowly making its way down her face, down her neck, and suddenly stopped on her stomach. Seihdhara leaned up and looked at the stone crab, and it stared back at her, seemingly wide-eyed and surprised to find itself face to face with this fiery giantess.

'Well Kels, you naughty little crab! You're brave - I'll give you that!' She giggled before picking him up slightly, planting a kiss on his back, and placing him on the ground beside her. Realising he was now in a pool of her hot quintessence, she quickly picked him back up and tried to wipe it off him, before placing him down further off and away from all the icky ichor. She looked at him, smiling a broad, hearty smile that flashed teeth and seemed on the verge of erupting into a peal of laughter. But this time, she managed to withhold it. She kept her eye on the naughty little crab as he continued on his way, and found herself thinking that it was a bit odd for a crab to be walking backwards - was it not?

”Thought you were a goner for a moment there.” Seihdhara looked up at the speaker, and found that it was the traveller god. ”But glad you are fine, rare to see anything like you in this sea of sticks-in-the-mud and sycophants.” And so saying, Urhu extended a helping hand to Seihdhara. The warrior goddess looked at her hand wide-eyed, then she grinned from ear to ear before grabbing the extended hand and pulling the other goddess towards her.
'Rhu-rhu!' She exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Urhu in a tremendous (somewhat bloody) bear hug. 'That stupid Old Ogre, did you see what he did! And it was all his fault anyway, bringing only half of me through!' She leapt up and set Urhu back on her feet, feeling power surge through her and her cut up throat and shoulder and back begin to seal up. Grabbing Urhu's hands in her own, the excitable goddess continued - 'You're a traveller Rhu-rhu. You can open up the doors, right? You can bring the rest of me through, can't you? And my hair - look at it, all cut up and ugly and dead. And you know what, I didn't like those purple bits at the start - but after a while they really grew on me! We have to bring them through! What do you say? Is there a way?'

For long, Narzhak's booming laughter did not cease, rolling over the chaos below him like the rumbling of a storm. When the initial access of hilarity from the mere fact that he was had passed, he looked down upon all the minuscule creatures that scrambled at his feet, and what he saw was so comical that it made his throat boil with renewed mirth. Here, that scampering thing with chopstick eyes - what was a chopstick? He surmised it was what her eyes were made of - lopped off the Demon's appendage in passing before colliding with a gaggle of other beasts in a flurry of scratching and cursing. Amusing as that was, he had to admire how fast she was with that knife. Better yet was the scene of the elder one rebuking that insolent shade. What sort of question was "why"? They were there - he was there, and it was all that mattered.

What made him outright bellow out in merriment, though, was Seihdhara being battered to the ground in punishment for her sacrilege (sacrilege was the word for this, yes!). This was how one should deal with disorderly underlings! Few words and a strong hand. Where before then Narzhak had simply felt indebted to the Architect for allowing him into a world worthy of that name, he now found growing within himself genuine respect for the old god. Serving one such as him was certainly not going to be a burden. Serving, indeed. He was here for that.

These thoughts left him in such a contented state that even when that other fiery runt, evidently not having learned his fellow's lesson, shouted his own hollow defiance. Narzhak lazily shifted a foot, which ought to have been enough to raise a wave to douse a hundred ones such as Sartravius. But, unexpectedly, it was not. Puzzled, he stomped down with greater force, his laughter finally abating as the new sense of confusion took its place. Still nothing. It was only after finally standing still for an instant that he noticed a new force drawing the fluid away from where he stood, and his bemused gaze followed the current as it coalesced and spoke the first sensible words he had heard from this whole rabble.

"Create, yes. That's a fine thought" he mused, ponderously swaying his head. Now that he thought of it, he had always known that his purpose was creation. He knew something! It struck him then, drawing out another distant peal of laughter. He knew, because someone had told him what he needed to know. This truly was the best of all worlds.

Slowly, heavily, he moved one step, then another, sending tremors through the ground. Having a body was easier than he thought. Within each twinge of his flesh, he could feel a gleeful urge to take something, anything, into his hands and crush it, snap it, let his strength flow free in all its terrible immensity. With that strength, he could shatter anything, yet he could also rein it in and wield it as he best pleased, and this gave him an indescribable feeling of power. So absorbed was he in the simple act of slowly shuffling ahead with no particular goal that he failed to notice a figure of ruin and stars kneeling ahead in his path, a shimmering granule from the height of his stature. He did not see it, and for a moment neither did anyone else as an ironclad mass great enough to blot out a forest descended upon it with a dull impact.

Narzhak stopped to consider where he was going. The crystalline monoliths upon which some other divines had already ascended towards the far-off world lay to another side altogether. With a grunt accompanied by a lingering chuckling, he began to cumberously turn about, before another thought gave him pause. Was he forgetting something? He leaned his head to the side, pondering, until it occurred to him that he had not seen the chopstick-eyed little thing recover her cleaver. That, he found, was a terrible omission. To release someone so skilful and eager at swinging blades into any world without a weapon to match would have been unforgivably negligent of anyone, let alone him.

Why him in particular? He was only dimly aware of the answer. It may have been the echoes of an unspoken command radiating from the Architect, or perhaps the mere thought of a bloodied trail of severed fingers that pressed up his throat with new bouts of irrepressible hilarity. Whichever it was, it was good enough for him.

Ever rumbling amusedly to himself, the colossus set off towards where he had last seen the knife and its wielder, his shadow preceding him like a bloody tide upon the waters.

Never mind that this is late, guys. Us GMs had to work out whether to keep these as IC markers or not. Official turn changes will be marked by these posts from now on, but the stuff before need not be changed at all.

Parvus
____
The Architect's Palace began to grow hectic, while he considering using this opportunity to interact with his fellow gods, he believed that was no longer wise. There would be better, less chaotic times, to speak with his fellow gods. Not only that, but the formerly red-haired goddess seemed intent on angrier their powerful patron. His powers had returned to him, stronger than before. It would be best to get to work.

He walked over to a crystal, and leap atop it with ease. As it barrelled towards Galbar, he saw a barren ocean, with only a few islands dotting its surface, and many wandering souls haunting its surface. There was something saddening about it. He would bring life to wet, barren rock. However, first, he needed to establish his domain.

Parvus gently tapped the crystal, and green veins spread across its surface. The speeding crystal shifted directions and moved directed towards one of the islands dotting Galbar, and began to barrel into the central point of the spot of land, and as it did, the green veins spread from the crystal into the newly formed cave.

At some point, Parvus became aware that he had entered a space separate from Galbar, but connected by the newly bored tunnel. He felt as though the tunnel began to collapse, however, he clutched a single hand and the green veins began to shimmer. He recognized the importance of a tunnel between his domain, and Galbar.

However, he thought of the roaming spirits, as well as the life that would inevitability inhabit Galbar. He could not simply allow anything to enter his realm, and with that, the green veins turned purple. From them, thorny vines sprouted to cover the tunnel walls. Pods formed on the vines occasionally expanded before releasing poisonous gas into the air that would paralyze spirit or beast alike. He designed the gas to be heavier than air, and thus sink back into his realm. He also had the foresight to make it so that all insects would be immune to its effects.

He looked up the great cavern that connected his realm to Galbar, and the many thorny vines which hung upon its walls. He felt as though “The Maw” was a suitable name for it. In addition, he named his vines, “Wormtooth Vines”

As for his domain, he believed as though there was only one suitable name for it, The Hive. He touched one of the cavern’s walls, and green veins spread out from where he touched and into his subterranean lair. He allowed himself to take his time as he carefully designed the Hive.

Parvus muttered to himself, ”Home. Such a funny word.”

As Ashalla stood by the crystals and watched many of her siblings approach, she tasted something foul in the waters. It drew her attention away from Galbar and the gods and towards the source of this disgusting flavour which was polluting the lake and, by extension, herself. Her eyes turned to look at the source -- a bloodied tendril of demon flesh in a growing slick of foul ichor. It disgusted her, and she knew it had to be dealt with. Ashalla flowed away from her crystal and towards the severed finger. When she was close enough, and no closer, she stretched out an arm and pointed at the offence to her senses. A whirlpool formed around the finger and gathered the ichor into one place. She then swept her arm aside and the whirlpool followed it, carrying the giant finger and ichor up onto an island where they were deposited.

Ashalla's face was still contorted by the bitter aftertaste which that ichor left in the water. She drew up to as much height as she could easily muster so that her height was comparable to Anzillu's and turned to face the demon. "Don't let your ichor pollute my waters," she said in a voice like distant rolling thunder laced with loathing.

After staring down the demon for a few moments, Ashalla turned and receded. It was not worth escalating. A warning would be adequate, for the foul-tasting one had not intentionally spilt its ichor into her water.

Turning her attention elsewhere, she spotted the little goddess named Chopstick Eyes searching the water. While Choppy's eyes couldn't pierce the depths of the lake, Ashalla felt everything in the lake because, in a sense, she was the lake. And within the lake Ashalla felt something touched with a faint trace of essence match that of Chopstick Eyes. She extended a submarine tendril towards the object, which was a metal cleaver, and pulled it towards herself. She considered the object for a few moments, then flowed towards Chopstick Eyes.

"Little-yet-feisty one," Ashalla greeted with a voice like rolling waves as she towered over the goddess, her tone calm and friendly. The water next to Chopstick Eyes bubbled like a spring and her cleaver rose to the surface of the water within her reach. "Here is your item. I find it strange that a god would need such objects, but I suppose one with a frail form like your own needs what help they can get."

A blink and the eyes had opened. There was no ceremony, no grand entrance, no amazing foreshadowing to this moment, just a blink and then suddenly the eyes had opened. As in sleep, you can never tell when you exactly started it, and sometimes it is equally hard to determine when you stopped.

A figure hidden in the dark briefly mulled this over, his birthplace compromised. The flashes of light around him burned his newborn eyes, and the sounds threatened to shatter his fresh ears, not to mention the smells. Despite his distaste, a never ending smile strained across his bizarre face, from eye to eye. His stomach rumbled, hidden away by the wreathing darkness. He was not hungry, and yet he felt an emptiness inside his stomach. Slowly it spread to his chest, and even out to his limbs. It tickled his skin and burned his mind, he was starving, but for what? Purpose. Immediately he felt the implications of his life, and even upon hearing the words of motivation of a great cyclops that had sat in front of him, he felt ever the empty.

Perhaps his great mistake was not being born a baby, who is blessed with the ability to ease into life, and better yet forget its beginning. Either way, the newborn was presented with a unique chance, and his pained stomach ushered him forward. The others seemed to fade from his peripheral as he walked up to the great cyclops. To him, the room was as empty as he was. In his mind the cacophony of echoes that had previously reigned supreme over the room scattered, and all that was left was a disembodied voice echoing from some unseen place.

“Did you create me?” The voice asked. The words floated with a childish innocence between the ever-smiling man and the mighty sitting cyclops, like peon to king, or son to father.

No sooner had the Architect’s face began to angle impassively away from Seihdhara before it was suddenly wrenched to glare straight at another--this time, another fiery figure. The bellowing Sartravius demanded his question, but just as a father might look down at a raging and petulant child as they shout and tantrum, the Architect remained cool and silent with an almost insulting level of calm. When Ashalla spoke her wisdom, having seemingly taken better than Sartravius to the purpose and information that he had tried to imprint upon them all, the Architect reaffirmed her sentiment by pointing one bony finger towards the rising crystals. The gesture was answer enough to the fir god’s demand--it told him to do exactly as his desired commanded him. To leave and wreak havoc elsewhere.

Though his attention had clearly been elsewhere, the eye still seemed to peer directly at K’nell as the nascent god stumbled forward. The ancient’s singular eye was large enough to look right at everything and everyone at once.

The depth and implication of K’nell’s inquiry left the Architect, however steeped in wisdom, contemplating for a moment how to even answer such a thing. ”I shaped all of you. I brought you here and gave you purpose and form, whereas before you were hollow echoes, or dead souls, or motes of emptiness. In exchange for these gifts, I expect loyalty.”

K’nell seemed to quietly soak in the information. Despite the silence he felt his thoughts echoing off the stony walls until finally they formed another sentence, spoken once more out of innocence, “What is my purpose?”

The question seemed to irritate the Architect. For all of his age and measured words, his patience was clearly short.

”I have already given you your purpose, and you know exactly what it is. Search your feelings; you know this to be true.”

A pang resounded in the empty pit that festered inside of K’nell. Despite his permanent smile, begging eyes looked up at the Architect with one final question, “Is.” The word bounced off the water, “is there nothing more?”

A silent eye was the only answer. K’nell tried to search its depths, but there was nothing in it to be seen. The meaning was as empty as himself, and for the first time since his recent conception, he wished he could frown.

Struck with a crisis, K’nell made his way away from his creator and to one of the many crystals. Gently he placed a defeated hand on the crystal.