A voice spoke into void, filled with anger and pain.
A lone being floated in the finite expanse above a barren wasteland, allowing the cosmic winds to carry Him a short distance as He contemplated, knowing what was reality and all that it currently was. It was a desolate and isolated existence filled with nothing but the prison that was the planet of Galbar, a prison that confined all that existed. His chest ached, a great wound had rippled and shone light upon the dark lands, showing its crevices and heights, all the imperfections that blemished the surface. By all intention, that was how the prison had been made in the cataclysmic fire that birthed into the emptiness that was reality as it was. The existent primordial shone his gaze away from the prison and allowed a hand to run along the wound that ached, feeling the shards that made up his inner being.
Before any work could be done, the king needed a throne to rule from and the great Monarch of All intended to not rule from the prison that confined Him. While He could not fully escape Galbar, He would rule from a true palace. In a swift motion, He slammed His four hands together, the sound of which resounded even through the great void beyond His prison, and pulled His palms into the great wound. The Monarch of All let out a gasp of pain as the light shining from the wound grew more and more with each passing moment before, with a force to threaten the very fabric of reality, He ripped out a light that shone with all that would become the heavens. The light illuminated the prison, casting away the cold darkness of the void that has so depressingly found to let itself remain known, though now forced to retreat to the other side of rock.
Inside the light, He could see the source of the opulent light, and within it was a palace fit for only those who could truly claim to be of divine blood, His blood. A smile would have crept across His face if He could muster it, but He saw red marble spread tall, yellowed roof tiles upon the mighty pagodas with white trimming the bottom walls. Gardens of all varieties teemed and joined together in the outer edges of the place ground, their plants intermingled and their earth mixing. A multitude of rooms inhabited the palace, so many that counting was a fool's errand and each one unique, some being barren armories yet to be filled with ornate and ceremonial garb while there were also great libraries that had yet to be filled. Then, a great jade throne at the very center of it all, looking straight upon Galbar and all that it was. A fine, wooden bridge extended forwards, inviting the Monarch of All to walk the grounds within that star-shaped palace that He had crafted so intricately. If He had the inclination, He would have done so without hesitation, but now that His place of rule had been built, He would need subjects to rule. He would need Lords and Ladies to lay claim to the prison that trapped Him and make His existence bearable in this reality of His. His eyes returned once more to the shards as He pushed away the orb of light, allowing it to expand as it travelled away from Galbar, slowly but noticeably.
His gargantuan form lurched forwards, pulling the shards toward Himself with the invisible force that was His exceptional will, allowing them to be humbled at His before giving them but a single pained utterance.
’My subjects, I am your creator, you Lord. Know that my will shall be done and there shall only be my will. You shall be my instruments, my hands, of creation for this world - for Galbar. The work that remains for us is indefinite, yet such is the nature of my realm.’
His words resonated with a power felt by the shards, causing them to glow with a power to rival the stars that lined the indefinite void. None, though, matched the light that shone from the wound that travelled into the Monarch of All, but His hands spread themselves wide, not hiding the injury from any to see. The shards were not yet complete; as His power had yet to be truly infused into them and simple words would not transform them into proper subjects for a divine rule such as He. The inordinate ruler looked past the very aspects that were once a part of Him, now giving a defiant gaze to Galbar that prevented him from leaving. Further words that urged the shards onwards rang out, the Monarch raising His voice at the planet and making His intent clear.
’This will not be our prison, not a stockade so that reality itself may keep us from the rest of the infinite beauty the void holds! This is my realm! This is our canvas to paint! Know this, o subjects mine, know that this light shall be our light! We are naught but creators! Artists! We shall take Galbar and make it mine! Raise now, o great primordials of my flesh and blood! Rise of give meaning to this blankness! Let my will be done!’
The glow of the shards surged with power, threatening to burst as they hummed with divine might that could only be wrought by the Monarch of All, the primordial god of gods that beckoned his subjects to rise. His many hands raised themselves above His head, deliverance reaching a fever pitch as the humming of the crystals grew louder and louder, becoming the choir of Galbar, the great song that would become the first the great venture of a new pantheon in the cosmos. Knowing that He could not stop now, the opulent one clasped His hands together once more, sending a shockwave across the stars.
’Rise! Heed this call of mine! Become the gods of Galbar!’
And in that moment came the roar of shattering shards that ushered in the age of the divine. It was that moment, when He felt his very essence split further sending a pained scream throughout all corners of reality as the gods birthed themselves. Yet, in His scream of triumph, as the newly born gods siphoned the great primordial energy from Him, He clutched the great wound from which the energy spilled before willing it to temporarily close.
He had cut the connection, and now the gods were free.
Or, to be more accurate, there was a sculpture in the palace, located in one of its many gardens. It was structured like a fountain, the varied fish that sat around the central column sat with mouths agape and spouts in their mouth, but the basin was dry, barren. Empty. One of the shards had shattered over this fountain, and as the Monarch of All cut off the primordial energy He had so generously provided to the shards, something miraculous began to happen.
It began with a gurgle. Then a few bubbles burst forth, spluttering out and splashing down shimmering droplets onto the parched stone. Then, slowly, rivulets of water began to surge forth, spilling down in even arcs, arcs that grew and grew with every passing moment. Soon, the spouts were spewing water out, splashing across the earth and then into the air.
Then, with a tremendous crack, the central podium of the fountain burst. Marble exploded outwards, shards of white stone fanning out like a bomb had been set off. In the centre of the column, the water gushed upwards, defying gravity as it sat, suspended in the air. The water swirled and rushed about, frothing and rising, until at last it split itself from the remnants of the central column and moved.
Ao-Yurin had been born.
The figure of water took a moment to appreciate themselves. Water crashed about, rising up into a curling arm that twisted about, as if being analysed. The figure swayed this way and that, waves crashing around but always pulled back into the centre, held together by divine force. The figure turned and looked towards the Monarch of All, then left the light.
From the depths of Galbar's surface, a primordial force stirred. Ao-Yurin felt their form's edges become hazy, light bleeding from their vision as they raised up their form, and the water began to rise. To any other god, such a tremendous amount of water would have been crippling, and although indeed they could feel themselves taxed, this was their role. The world needed water, and Ao-Yurin would provide a flood that nothing could withstand.
In just a few moments the puddle they had been standing in had increased in size tenfold. It rushed out from their form, a wave that began to rise up, higher and higher in height, rushing across the uneven surface of the world. As Ao-Yurin's form grew in height and stature, the water's power increased, the wave racing faster and faster, higher and higher, chasing its crest but never managing to reach its. The water grew still, now a pool, then a spring, then an oasis, then a lake. The wave was now higher than anything the land had to offer, overtaking any hill or mountain and overwhelming any gully or valley.
Still more water flowed. Triumph surged through Ao-Yurin, as on the opposite side of the planet from whence they stood, the four rushing waves came together, taller than anything that would be seen on Galbar again, and crashed into each other. The force from such an impact shattered the form of each of the waves, sending a spray of water up into the sky and another great ripple back towards Ao-Yurin. Even as the waves clashed, Ao-Yurin continued, more and more water pouring forth from nothing until at last the skies themselves became so saturated that they could not hold themselves back, and began to gush with water as well.
Then, Galbar was only the water, dark and deep, blanketing the world in the liquid from which it would be born.
And Ao-Yurin looked down upon the sea, and saw that it was good.
Ao-Yurin is born, and immediately sets to work on flooding the world. Galbar is now entirely covered in water and shrouded in vast and heavy rainclouds.
It would cost 4 vigor to flood the world, but Ao-Yurin has drawn some of their energy from the crystal that is to become Sala.
In a quite overgrown glade lost somewhere in the various gardens of the Palace, an impossible wind started to blow through. As the leaves rustled softly a joyous, source-less laughter echoed through the branches of the trees while rebounding off of... well, everything it could; The plants, the soil... even the air itself joined in the chorus of thundering laughter, both delightful and sinister in nature as it grew to a fever pitch.
As a violent light burst forth from the center of the glade, the chorus of laughter condensed down into a singular voice. Even as the blinding light started to fade, the localized world of the isolated glade continued to glow even without a source of light to provide it... but the original light had left some things behind in its wake.
The easier to overlook addition was that of the flowers. Around the center of the glade, what had once been a mixture of greens and browns had transformed into a perfect circle of flowers, the coloration of them all at once blended, competed and co-operated together at the same time to create a display that was captivatingly beautiful to behold, even if only a small handful of entities that would ever exist would even have the senses to truly comprehend what they were witnessing.
In the middle of the circle of flowers, sat Aethel. Their hind legs were spread out to the sides while the middle and front pair rested comfortably upon the ground as the equine shaped deity let their laughter trickle off. For a moment they simply enjoyed the colors and the quiet of their birth place... before with a content sigh they rose to all six of their feet, the grass and branches that had been caught in their tail and mane being removed by a combination of an expert shake of said newly created tail and the various tendrils and tentacles along Aethel's sides combing the hair in order to locate and remove the intruders that had gotten tangled up in it.
The trot to the exit of the Palace Grounds that lead to the world of Galbar did not take long to reach. Offering the Monarch of All a respectful bow that required the bending of their front legs fully, Aethel rose as he turned to look at the world in question... before sighing as they took a seat. "If it is all the same to you Father, I think I might wait until it stops raining. I just got my hair just the way I like it and I would rather not ruin it so soon." Turning their head to look at their creator, Aethel offered a soft, affectionate smile as they added "Besides, it would be nice to spend some time with you before I go."
Aethel comes into existence! Decides to remain at the Palace with Monarch for All for the moment as they wait for other deities to visit the world and give it some diversity instead of just water.
Location: The Celestial Palace. Interacting with: Aethel (@Bright_Ops) and the Monarch of All (@Lauder)
As the shards spilled out of the Monarch of All, there was one in particular that seemed to be just a bit odd. It battled itself, seemingly unsure of how it would come into being as the connection was sundered. Within this shard a battle raged, one that would likely never be known to anyone but those involved for some time. Within the shard, two forms coalesced. One of a beautiful woman, and the other of an amorphous blob. Launching itself at the beautiful woman with what could only be described as a scream, the amorphous blob sprouted something akin to an arm, and upon that arm was a claw. Taking advantage of the fact that there was not yet any resistance from the coalescing goddess, the blob clawed at her face, attempting to both slay her and steal away what divinity it could.
The soft and supple flesh of the unfinished goddess gave way to the rending claws with little resistance, and the sleeping woman’s face was forever scarred. From these scars the blob gained a tiny spark of divine energy as a trophy for its kill. Clutching this spark greedily, the blob looked to the presumably slain goddess and began to shape itself in their image. As its own form began to coalesce and it moved to finalize its emergence it found itself clutching at its head. Something was wrong.
Letting out a shriek that no normal ear could withstand the form of the predator went limp. The sleeping goddess, thought dead, had been healed by the abundance of divine energy. Lowering her hand, she approached the corpse of her would-be killer and touched it gently. The limp form split apart, and slowly the scarred goddess donned it as one would clothes. Once everything was in place the scarred goddess let out a scream of her own as the flesh of her would-be sister bound to her own, bringing the two together to form the one.
Ruina stepped into existence from just behind the great jade throne that had been crafted by the Monarch of All. Clearly her would-be sister did not intend to stop with just murdering her. Walking across the fine wooden bridge. A light click emerged from each step as Ruina’s talons impacted upon the ground. With each step her tail shifted behind her, maintaining her balance with ease.
Instinctively approaching the Monarch of All, she heard a faint fragment of conversation as she approached. Something about wanting to spend time with them before they left. So someone else was also present? Interesting, but not problematic. Walking with confidence, Ruina walked around to the front of the Monarch of All and unknowingly mimicked Aethel by bowing. Her tail unconsciously moved to ensure that her deep bow did not throw her off balance. Looking briefly to Aethel Ruina would give her a brief nod of respect before turning her attention back to her creator… Or would father be a better term?
Speaking up, Ruina introduced herself, primarily to the Monarch of All and secondarily to Aethel. ”Peace be with you, Monarch of All. I am Ruina, and I am at your service. Instruct me as you desire.”
Rising from her bow, Ruina could do little more than await a reply from her creator.
Ruina comes into being! At first she’s got an underdeveloped sister that tries to kill her for her divinity, but is healed by the abundance of divine energy and erases her sister's consciousness as revenge. Splitting her sister apart, she dons and then merges with her remains in order to regain the spark of divinity that was taken from her.
Awakening in The Celestial Palace, Ruina notes that her sister would’ve promptly tried to murder the Monarch of all through tactically teleporting behind him. Walking to where he and Aethel are located, she introduces herself and pledges her service, asking for directions.
’Rise! Heed this call of mine! Become the gods of Galbar!’
Awareness!
His crystal shook, like the deepest reverberations of something vast. Cracks began to appear, growing larger, forming with powerful snaps and pops that shook the very void in their chorus of realization. It was a sweeter hum, with a newer meaning and with it came a name, his name- Chailiss. Lord of all that was cold.
When his own hum reached a crescendo, that crystal that contained Chailiss shattered into uncountable pieces. Exploding outwards briefly before stalling in the air around him, reflecting the newborn light in prismatic fashion. They hovered there, beautiful fragments smaller than the smallest of things. Then he came bursting forth, in an aura of pale white amidst the black.
Chailiss was formless, more akin to a cloudy thing, in billows of wispy chill and vapor. He could feel sensations. The fleeting warmth of the star, drifting ever further away. There, in the space between, he felt at home in the dark. He felt… Alive, awakened from a far away dream. Endless as it was vast, as it was... He stifled a cold breath, as his gaze fell upon He. Upon his Creator. So vast a form, the sheer magnificence. He was the Monarch of All, and Chailiss knew him to be the gifter of his senses, the progenitor of his powers, keeper of All that would ever be. The young god felt a new sensation for the first time- Awe.
He gave a deep bow of respect, conveying all that needed to be said in a simple act. The Creator’s words echoed in his head and Chailiss knew his purpose.
He steadied himself and rose to look upon the planet he already knew by name. Galbar. A barren rock of potential. To be a jewel in the eye of He. He pondered what to do for some time, until something happened that he had not been expecting. His barren home became saturated with blue. Bewildered, Chailiss looked further still, trying to make sense of it all. Was this the work of the Creator or… He would not be alone in this task, would he?. There would be others like him, others with purpose given by the Creator… Yes, He could feel them awakening as he had. As if on que a great scream rippled through the dark, and Chailiss felt something new once again- Fear.
This startled him, for it awoke something primal, something fierce. A drive, a need to overcome. What if he failed? What if the creator disliked him? What if whatever made that scream was as violent as it sounded? The crystals around him grew larger, full of rigid spikes as his thoughts cascaded into the worst scenarios.
NO!
He pushed those negative feelings down, buried it beneath layers. There would be time to ponder those darker questions later, now was not the time. The world below needed aid, needed his touch. If others wished to come to him, then he would let it happen. But what would he do?
He watched Galbar become a blue orb. That… Water… He watched it consume all until nothing remained of the rock and stone before. It plunged everything below to unfathomable depths. Suffocating the world in angry seas. This would have to be rectified one way or another, changed for the better so that the Creator’s will could be realized.
The crystals coalesced around him in a great soundless wind, taking shape as he added to his formlessness. Sheets of verglas, crystals and snow formed a great sphere around Chailiss. Nay, he was the sphere, as he was the cold with divine mandate. He looked back upon the Creator in all that he was then set off down to Galbar.
Down to do his duty.
Chailiss is born and ruminate upon his new found existence before heading off to Galbar to be responsible.
Thrumming, thumping power. Not sound nor touch thought nor feeling. Driving, without movement. Sounds echoed as if far away…
’My subjects, I am your creator, you Lord…
...yet the thrumming remained, pounding at mind and body, all senses assaulted at once in waves with no origin, instantaneous and yet agonizingly long…
...instruments, my hands, of creation…
...it would not stop, no effort nor piercing aid came, the words drew ever more distant as the need to flee to run from this feeling, to make it stop-
...Let my will be done!’
She was free! And she was a she? Who was she?
Thoughts came to her finally as she fled away, twisting through space a screaming serpent of heat. Though she had thought the pounding let up only the briefest amount, as she got further and further from the place of her birth, through trial and error finding the path to take, how to make it stop.
A dull rock, illuminated by the light behind her. Was her evident destination, her path leading her to it, a path made by the lessening of the accursed thrumming pounding sense.
She was alive. That she knew, but who was she a name was nee-
A jolt from some interior part of her, some sense of self flooded forth with the weakening pulses driving her to Galbar. It through her almost, a force driving both towards a rock in space and a thought, a sense, a feeling. A name.
Yoliyachicoztl
As a crystal she knows not who she is, what she is, where she is. She does not even know she is she. Words distance, but ever-present is the thrumming, the driving sense flooding every aspect.
She is freed by a measure of the Creator’s will and she takes the opportunity to flee, flee from the thrumming, the power, the drive. Away from where it pounds at her mind a testing path till she finds it, to head to Galbar. She wonders and thinks, until she is flooded with one powerful internal thing: A name.
As the Monarch of All spoke his final words, filling the crystals with power, the largest of the crystals began to shake and change color. It rattled violently, rapidly going through various colors from black, dark brown and dark grey to tan, light blue, and silver. The colors sped by faster and faster as the shaking grew more and more violent. Finally, with a great shattering sound, the crystal burst into thousands of shards. In its place stood a titanic god. All manner of earth moved and held together his form, from the large boulders that will make up mountains, to the fine grains of sand that would make up deserts. By his will, for he had no desire to dirty the magnificent palace his father had built, it all remained tightly bound to his form.
He turned and inclined his head towards the Monarch, as it was only right to acknowledge their ruler and their father. Even now, mere seconds after birth, he knew who they ultimately served. The world may be their canvas, but it was his too rule. The Monarch's words had given them life, and the Monarch's words would be the law that they all lived by. Having paid his respects to his creator, Voligan nodded once more and headed down towards the planet that was to be their canvas. Galbar. One of his sisters had already left her mark on the world. Where once there was barren land, now all was drowned in water. It was a start, but it wouldn't do to have no land at all.
Voligan stopped in the ocean that now made up their canvas, his landing sending massive waves in all directions. The earth beneath him was strong, and filled with potential. The potential they needed to make their canvas. It was strange, then, that his sister had decided to drown in it all in water. She was a goddess of the ocean, true, but everyone needed limits. You didn't see him getting ready to fill the planet back with land after all. The Monarch would not be pleased with such a monotonous design. The earth couldn't be used effectively if it was trapped at the bottom of an ocean, and the variety of creations would suffer greatly from the endless expanse of water. "You were too excited, sister." His voice rumbled as he spoke, sending vibrations through the waters around him, looking at Ao-Yurin. "You have only replaced one monotony with another."
A canvas needed to take shape, and it couldn't be left with only one color or shape. It needed to be filled with variety and life. While such an expansive level of variety would be beyond him alone, he was not alone. His siblings were awakening all around him, some before him, and they all possesed the same level of power he did. They would bring their own touches and designs to the continents he planned to raise, and it would be a beautiful beginning to their canvas.
Voligan raised his hands to the heavens and spoke to his brothers and sisters, those that were already formed and those that were still forming. His voice thundered into the sky as he made his request. "Brothers, sisters, hear me. Our canvas is dull and monotonous. Together, we can make it filled with variety and color. Join me and we shall paint it to our and the Monarch's liking." He did not yell, for he knew his siblings could hear him no matter where they were.
10 total.
+10 Gained from the Monarch.
None spent. Yet.
-Voligan bursts from his crystal like the Kool-aid man in his true form.
-Shows respect to the Monarch, heads down to Galbar.
-Goes, 'That's too much water'. Tells Ao-Yurin that they were to excited and only replaced the monotonous earth with monotounous water.
-Speaks out to the rest of the gods, asking them to join him in creating land for the world, with variety he couldn't make alone.
Void. Everywhere. No light. No sounds. Nothingness. Peace. Calm. Safety.
And then, suddenly...Awareness. Pain. Sounds. Light !
Shards of light. Falling and falling, constantly. One by one. Some would take different shapes, some would have steady form. Some had internal wars inside them, each fighting to survive. Each fighting to exist.
A voice. Rising above everything, encompassing the darkness.
’My subjects, I am your creator, you Lord. Know that my will shall be done and there shall only be my will. You shall be my instruments, my hands, of creation for this world - for Galbar. The work that remains for us is indefinite, yet such is the nature of my realm.’
A message, a divine command but ‘alas for nothing.
One shard would fall and fall, a small light inside. Like the charcoal after the fire was spent. Burning, yet not burning. An unconstant flow of existence. Yet not enough for the small globe of light to take shape. Not enough for divine life.
This one shard would end up dying. Spent and wasted into nothingness.
“ NO! ” a voice. Her voice? Maybe just an echo? Probably more nothingness.
“ I SAID NO! ”.
HER VOICE.
Suddenly other shards fall past hers. One hits another and then another and somehow, luck one might guess, hit hers and gets absorbed.
The light grows stronger and stronger. By every second the light grew more and more until a shape was formed. A perfect sphere. Emanating yellow light.
The Monarch of All stood in front of her and others. Shards? Siblings? Others. As He finished His speech, Ashevelen looked at Galbar as it turned from brown to blue as the others went towards it
“ Creator. I give you my thanks for my creation. Long may you reign. I should join the others as well. ” her voice was ethereal and the echo of her voice resounded throughout her immediate surroundings.
With another bow, which involved her floating orb form to touch the ground in respect, she plummeted down to Galbar.
“ Voligan, I pledge you my support. May you be blessed with luck. ” shouted Ashevelen as she flew towards Voligan.
10 total.
+10 Gained from the Monarch.
Gives Voligan 1 vigor to assist in making the world.
9 left.
Ashevelen got lucky and didn’t dissipate into nothingness. Showed respect to the Monarch of All Gives Voligan 1 Vigor for assistance.
A consciousness flickered in and out of existence. The cold, consuming nothingness of the void consumed the senses. The fortitude of the Monarch sparked his awareness earlier than some of the others. A shard began humming with power and began glowing with a dull yet unceasing and unrelenting blue. Other shards tried to dye the blue shard with their own colours but the hue never so much as faded. Perhaps the other shards viewed him as 'easy-pickings', but he wasn't one to relent nor bend.
There was now true awareness. HE. He could now feel, hear, touch, think... The other shards avoided him now, seeming to believe their efforts null. He could barely register the words of his creator, seeming more curious about the newly attained senses.
The filling blue now grew brighter as the shard began shaking. Soon it shattered into pieces like many others. First a warm, fiery blue appeared. The blue bellowed out smoke endlessly. Despite seeming like fire, it was not. The 'flame's' intensity never wavered, it consistently flickered and would seem to burn for eons. Soon a figure formed around the flame, draping itself with a robe and mask to center itself.
It stretched its hand out, flexing and sprawling out its 'fingers' in curiosity. It also knew its name by now- Aletheseus.
This was existence and it was... odd. Different things slammed his newly-formed senses- information overload. Aletheseus eyed his fellow brothers and sisters and then their father, something he knew innately, with curiosity now.
"Brothers and Sisters... Father." A soft yet resolute voice hummed, addressing his fellow gods and the Monarch. Aletheseus soon, too, plummeted towards Galbar.
He had heard the call of Voligan and 'crashed' into the ocean by him. The water never rippled as he landed and he walked on top of it, curiously taking in the world around him. Galbar, despite being a globe of water, was a sight to behold. There was a need for earth, a muse and artist to create land. He knew he wasn't the god for that job and so he chose to answer his brother's pledge.
"... Brother," Aletheseus called, "I share my strength with you."
Aletheseus also silently acknowledged the other god, his sister, present with a nod.
Altheseus formed, other shards tried to subsume him into their form but failed due to his resilience. Newly formed senses causes information overload for a moment as he observed his surroundings. Acknowledged Monarch and fellow Gods. Crash lands and then walks on Water Galbar, Pledges Strength to Voligan,
Start: 10 Vigor Spending: 2 to assist Voligan in raising a continent End: 8 Vigor
’My subjects, I am your creator, you Lord. Know that my will shall be done and there shall only be my will. You shall be my instruments, my hands, of creation for this world - for Galbar. The work that remains for us is indefinite, yet such is the nature of my realm.’
Divine power radiated through the shard, slowly coalescing. Solar winds buffeted it, tumbling it wildly across the skies. Information was substance, and it gathered with the gravity of divine power; coursing violently towards singularity. But it was not truly ready, not yet. Unless there was a spark, what could be would never fuse into what is.
’This will not be our prison, not a stockade so that reality itself may keep us from the rest of the infinite beauty the void holds! This is my realm! This is our canvas to paint! Know this, o subjects mine, know that this light shall be our light! We are naught but creators! Artists! We shall take Galbar and make it mine! Raise now, o great primordials of my flesh and blood! Rise of give meaning to this blankness! Let my will be done!’
Information and substance were separate. The act of telling a substance what it was could change that substance. Information was the substance; on the lowest levels of existence, the measurement changed the measured. All it took was a powerful enough measurement, granted freely in obscenely powerful radiance from the God of All. The measurement told the shard it was a god, and so the shard inexorably hurtled towards godhood.
’Rise! Heed this call of mine! Become the gods of Galbar!’
With one last heave, the information was formed into something new. It hurtled violently through space, a streaking star across the silent plains of a dead planet and subsumed into the blinding radiance of the solar palace. This will not do, the thought sparked violently throughout the shard. A divine thought; a divine sapience, analyzing the existence around it a hundred million times a second, billions of demonstrably separable thoughts blasted through the infinity contained in each second.
A god should have a body, the consensus came, the shard of divine existence forming itself. Information-as-substance warped, telling itself what it was and enacting its measurement of reality. It told itself it had a body, and so it had a body; a humble one, hardly befitting a god, but this was no matter. That which hid under the surface was the measurement and the truth, and that was the truly consequential.
It does not befit a god to hide. There are places to be and impressions to make, the next consensus coursed through the nascent god’s new mind, made physical in divine flesh and raiment. Hurtling through the thin atmosphere of existence as a great fireball was magnificent, yes, but it was not beneficial. The next measurement came; the matter was not arcing across the sky, it was standing. Divine structure surrounded it; this was not empty space, it was a palace. And there, across the room, stood the creator and the ruler.
A god should have an identity, the consensus thought. The final measurement was provided with exacting precision. Substance imperceptibly warped to comply with its new existence, and the shard of creation ceased to be. The shard had never existed and could never return to its previous measurements. In its place stood Epsilon, the god of knowledge. He gave a slight bow to the Monarch of All, respectfully giving his acknowledgement and thanks for existence. Then, inspiration struck him.
He held up his hands, as though holding a book; he measured the air in front of him, and the matter found that it was actually a book. It unceremoniously changed to suit reality, and a book dropped into his hands; it was a vast tome, neatly leatherbound and laid with divine filigree, sparkling in the light. White pages shimmered, not made of paper but of divine power, self-sustaining.
Then, he let out a call to all the divinity in existence, “Hear me! I am Epsilon, and I seek the elements of the universe that are treasured, so it may be kept to live forever! Write down upon this book your favored elements of existence, so that they may be reinforced and remembered!”
For his part, he contributed to the concrete reality of information. Memory, thought, stories, and discovery were all tangible and he loved the universe for it. The book pulsed with power as he imbued his love upon it. He placed the book upon a pedestal in the main hall, leaving it open for the other gods. Then, he took his leave; to give them time to scrawl their writings upon it.
Epsilon starts as a shard of creation, flying across… creation The Monarch of All says “hey be a god or something lol” and the shard becomes a god The shard decides it needs a body, gets a body. It decides it needs to be in the palace, and goes to the palace. The shard decides it needs an identity, and turns into Epsilon. Epsilon gives respect to the Monarch then gets inspired He creates the Codex, an artifact on which the nature of the universe can be recorded. He then asks everyone to fill out the Codex with information on the universe; particularly, the parts they love the most. He writes about information on the Codex, because he loves information.
Epsilon - 10 Vigor -2: Creation of the Codex -1: Writing on the nature of information as a measurable substance onto the Codex Epsilon - 7 Vigor
Nothing, he was, just another one of the Monarch's shards. "Then the voice came, My subjects, I am your creator...." Bright blue light started to form within the shard. A single questioning thought emerged, creator?
"This will not be our prison, not a stockade...." "Our prison?" The bright blue started to pulsate and shifted wildly inside the shard with each passing moment. The shard barely able to hold it in.
Then came the final words, ’Rise! Heed this call of mine! Become the gods of Galbar!’ The shard started to crack before the bright blue light thashing violently until it shattered the shard. The blue light standing in place for a few seconds before coalescing into a figure. Voi, his first thought as a god. He knows that is his name and took a moment to gaze at his body. Flexing his fingers for the first time, and took note of his form. Something corporeal to the naked eye but, underneath, incorporeal. Suiting his purpose a god of souls. He thought as he turned his gaze to his creator the Monarch.
Giving a bow of respect to the Monarch and in a soft tone, "Thank you, father." Before turning his gaze towards his siblings, hearing the call from Voligan, seeing that he and others were in the middle of changing Galbar. Galbar, this is to be their world that they would make together. A sense of duty developed in him. This was their task, to be gods of this world and shape it. A task the Voi was more than willing to help with, but before, he would travel to Galbar and aid his siblings' efforts. He heard Epsilon's call about writing in a book about their favorite elements of existence.
Turning around to see the god of knowledge writing in a book that was on a pedestal in the main hall. Curious about his and what his brother has written down already. Due to their very short time being alive and so Voi walked over to the pedestal.
Once he was closed enough, Voi read what Epsilon had written. Reading Epsilon's love of memory, thought, stories, discovery, and the universe. Voi wrote what he felt was important to him. The nature of a soul, the sanctity of life, and making a soul safe once they had moved on to the next life. Though he has yet to experience it yet but is eager to begin. So when he was done writing in the Codex, Voi ventured off to see what existence has to offer to him and his siblings.
Voi is created and shatters his shard in the process. Wrote in the Codex Ventures off
Starting Vigor - 10 Spent - 1 - Writing on the nature of souls and life onto the Codex End Vigor - 9
Location: The Celestial Palace. Interacting with: Monarch of All (@Lauder) and Ruina @Squad 404)
Turning their head slightly to gaze upon the new arrival, Aethel seemed to light up at the sight of one of their siblings. Springing up from their sitting position in order to ponk around Ruina while checking her out like an over excited baby lamb discovering something new. Finally remembering words were a thing after the first bouncing circle, Aethel finally came to a stop in front of her as their front hooves moved up to cover their mouth as a squeal escaped them before the gushing began. "Oh. My. Me! You look amazing! The perfect blend of soft and delicate beauty combined with animistic savagery!... as well as some tasteful sex appeal in just how tight your outfit appears to be! It even matches your hair and eyes! You're going to be so popular! Everything we create is going to want to get to know you!"
Remembering where they were and whom was present, Aethel glanced back at the Monarch with a degree of bashfulness before forcing themselves to calm down with a polite clearing of their throat and a deep, deep breath. "I mean... My name is Aethel. It is an absolute pleasure to meet you... sister?" Glancing back at the Monarch of All as if to confirm if they were using the right kind of relationship to describe a fellow deity, regardless of the outcome they would turn back and offer a polite bow of the head. "I am Aethel. And this-" There was a grand sweeping gesture of two of their legs and a countless number of tentacles towards the world that they were observing "-is going to be our stage of Galbar! Granted its not much to look at right now since all that is currently there is water, but some of our kin have big additions already planned and I'm looking forward to seeing them."
"In fact, I have some ideas of my own but.." Pausing for a moment, Aethel turned back to the Monarch fully before politely requesting "Father, in order to speed up my additions to Galbar during this early development, might I make use of some of the Mana of the Palace? It is not vitally important since I can make due without it, but it would considerably speed up the development of Galbar's own sources of Mana by introducing a supply of it from the start."
Aethel meets Ruina for the first time and politely asks dad if he can use some of the Palace's Mana to get things on Galbar going a lot faster then planned.
The Wine Demon | The Unquenchable Thirst | The Rose-Cheeked God
Thunderous cacophonies of creation blasted into reality all around, and the scene of existence had in the span of minutes gone from nothing into everything - water, earth, heat, cold, magic - forces of the physical world accompanied by the forces of the cosmos: knowledge, luck, fortitude, destruction and souls. At the centre of it all - Him; the Celestial Master, the Lord Who Towers of All. The Cosmic King had spawned with such magnificent power this roster of retainers, this society of stewards - drizzling the world in rain and penning the words of Creation itself. Life - life was finding its way.
It was then that a puddle, not too far from the ruins of the garden fountain, was exposed to the sweet dust of a godly shard; that sugar in the air that blasted off from creation and seasoned the soil with holy spirit.
That was enough.
The water accepted this candy of Creation and the two fused into a thin syrup that immediately sported a small, brown mustache of foam - an eyeball of yeast blinked up at the rain. It had little time before it would be flushed away. It decided to do something about it. So the yeast spun itself a whirlpool in the puddle and flushed itself down into the soil. There, it quickly found exactly no one, and it couldn’t accept that - where was the joy in being alone? So the yeast, immediately changing its mind, tunneled back up into the air and became a cloud. The cloud thickened, but the rain from above kept cutting through it and preventing it from coalescing properly. The cloud, rather annoyed at this point, floated for cover, finding it in the ruins of an ancient pavilion. There, the cloud could finally gather into a clump of foam, and the clump spat out a creature - a man, red of skin, small of growth and round with fat.
The creature, clothed in a white silk robe and hatted with a black futou, crashed into the pavilion floor, but spared no muscular expense and turned the clumsy landing into a dexterous roll, ending in a lying seat, a cup spawning in his right hand as if by instinct. With his cup in his grip and a sip to his lip, he, Jiugui, spoke the first drunk poetry the world had ever heard:
Thousand years of brewing art Hidden in the Lian Spring, art! Wine from poets’ gardens flows, Tastes which will undo all woes.
He then looked around.
“Wait, where ish everyone?”
A cloud of alcohol made from divine shard sugar and rainwater spawns Jiugui, who then recites poetry to exactly no one.
There was a shard among the many that acted in a peculiar way. Of all the shards expelled, this one had been thrown with great violence and force, flying off faster than any other. At some moment or another it changed curse, and instead of flying away from the palace, it circled back, returning to it, still at a great speed, as it neared the immaculate building, the shard exploded into hundreds of micro shards which rained upon a section of the palace like bullets, chipping away the masonry, crashing upon plants, digging holes into the ground.
These shards would melt into a shadow coloured slurry, which would snake its path across the garden and coalesce into one singular dark spot from which a colourful figure would rise. Thus had been born the hunt, Tuku Llantu.
The masked deity took a moment observing their surroundings in silence, listening to their many siblings proudly announce who they were and their mission. Of these the words and actions of Epsilson were the ones who truly caught their attention, a codex of creation, of knowledge...
The aloof god stepped forward and approached such book. They wrote down the things only a hunter's well trained eyes could see in this young universe, the treasured secrets hidden very deep within the world, and upon writing all that... allowed black ink to cover it all, forever embracing such secrets so that even Tuku themselves would no longer know them. "May the uncertainty of the unknown be eternal in this existence" and so it was set that no matter how much it was studied, the world would never be fully understood.
That done, the deity moved away, looking upon the blue marble of Galbar and at the palace around them. Both beautiful, both lacking in something. To deal with the former, first the god would need a way to reach it from this exact distance, and to do that they brought forth fibres from the garden which weaved together and became a bow. To deal with the later, the god sat down and clapped their hands together, when they opened, young-lings of three species were to be found.
To rise above the plants and trees, a pair of small creatures with bushy tails and skin that extended from their arms and legs. This was called the flying squirrel, pay no heed to the lack of a normal squirrel. To traverse the rooms and small holes of the structure, a pair of small furry creatures were made, with strong teeth and long tails and an undying desire to survive no matter what, these were the rats. Finally, to mirror the still calmness of the waters, a pair of larger rodents were made, with fat bodies and relaxed faces, these creatures would inhabit the ponds of the garden, and were called the capybara.
Tuku is created when a shard breaks into smaller shards and crashes upon the palace. They write something in the codex and then place black ink over it, making it so the world will always have mystery and the unknown They make a bow, the first bow, it is not particularly magical outside of the fact it can throw projectiles across worlds. They make three rodents, flying squirels, rats and capybaras, all properly adapted to withstand divine presence and the environment of the palace.
Vigour: Initial - 10 Used - 2 [Palace Rodents (1), First Bow Artefact (1)]
While all the other shards dramatically shattered and some even went so far as to damage the palace itself, one was considerably more... subdued.
Instead of shattering into a thousand pieces, or colliding with nearby walls and furniture, the quiet shard hovered in place. For a moment it looked as if it might not crack, as if it was a dud. Then, it began to slowly fill with a peculiar inky blackness, until the entire thing was as dark as an abyss.
Crack!
The surface of the crystal was suddenly marred by a single jagged line; an imperfect crack in what had previously been a smooth surface. Then, black smoke began to pour from the crack. Instead of dispersing to fill the room, as smoke was wont to do, it instead remained concentrated. Instead of rising as high as it could go, it went straight to the floor, and began to accumulate there. Aside from the initial sound of the crack forming, all of this happened soundlessly. The darkness in the crystal, meanwhile, was beginning to drain.
Only when the crystal was empty did the mass of black smoke begin to shrink in on itself, before suddenly stopping as it took on the form of a black silhoeutte; a bipedal form with two arms. Then the blackness shifted once more, as a pair of what could only be wings extended from its back. Seemingly satisfied, the darkness finally began to transform into actual features: short black hair on a handsome pale face. A suit of fine silver armour with blackened trim. The dark mass of wings sprouted shiny black feathers.
The God of Darkness was born.
Turning around, he placed a gentle hand on his still-intact crystal, and slowly it floated down to the ground. Then he turned toward his creator, and approached.
"Rather rude to leave such great messes in your maker's home, is it not?" the God of Darkness asked the gods who were already gathering around the Monarch. Though his smile and the amused tone in his voice made it clear it was not intended as a true reprimand. "Ah, but I'm not one to talk! I haven't even introduced myself yet." He turned to the Monarch and offered a low bow. "I am Zelios," he introduced himself.
Zelios is born. Unlike the other gods he takes care not to have his crystal shatter into a million pieces or damage his surroundings. He takes in the form of a dude in silver armour with black feathery wings. Then he approaches the gods gathering around the Monarch and introduces himself.
Among the chaotic emissions that was the Monarch of All’s grand expense of effort, as well as the building crescendo of nascent deities escaping the prisons of their previous non-existence, one shard among the many drifted silently through the void. It careened away from the bridge with the sort of heedless abandon that only inanimate objects could, threatening an existence wholly consumed by traveling the darkness of the beyond for all time.
Then, as if willfully rejecting this fate, or perhaps responding to the sounds of unfolding chaos of divine action, the shard vibrated. At first, it was but a simple tremble, the rustle of porcelain when someone bumps the table. It did not remain that way for long; the vibrations grew wild and intense with worrying speed. Soon it shook like an earthquake unto itself, and the edges of the shard grew blurry. The energies contained within dissipated from it like a roll of thread unrolling itself into the void of space, until the contours of the shard were so fuzzy and intangible that it now resembled a simple flurry of jagged, shifting shapes and expelled particles. It grew and grew until finally it expanded a final time, accompanied by a loud boom that rang through the void. Silence did not return - instead where once there had been quiet there was now an ever present buzzing, a hum, several melodies, the hint of laughter, concentrated deep within that shifting haze of colour and contours.
This jumble of contours whizzed and zipped erratically through space, changing direction almost at random with brief exception for heading towards the sounds of other divinities when next they made a sound. Eventually the shape seemed to decide upon the fixed placement of the Monarch-of-All as He orbited the watered prison. With a vibrant hum this unwound and vibrating ball of divine yarn sped towards its creator and those few gathered in His presence, making the journey in reality-breaking speeds.
The mess of color and sounds came to an unstable halt around the small congregation before the Monarch, and hummed a sequence of thoughtful but discordant melodies. It took in the gathering deities in a way that only a humming cloud of materia could, before beginning to vibrate profusely once more. The energy gathered and congealed quickly, taking form once more; not as a small shard, but as those gathered before the Monarch. First it appeared to take the silhouette of Aethel, only to warp into a half-proper image of the stoic Zelios, and finally turning into a near-perfect copy of Ruina, down to the mysterious scarring that marred the nascent goddess’ face. The copycat cooed and hummed, inspecting her own work and arms before grinning to the others.
Wearing Ruina’s face, she bowed deeply to the Monarch in a motion deep enough to be mocking the idea of bowing, before giggling with unbridled mirth and testing her new legs by spontaneously righting herself and kicking up in a spirited jump for joy. What followed was an unedited verbal stream of consciousness. ”Yes! Let’s go! This is gonna be, like, great. I’m so excited! I already have so many ideas that would be totally amazing. Bright things. Fluffy things. A shiny thing that goes ‘ting!’. Zenia is on the mission! ...Zenia? I think I’m Zenia!”
She lounged around expectantly for all of a second. When it sunk in that her display did not immediately spread cheer, the copycat Ruina shrugged her shoulders and took a running start - in space - towards the prison ball and escaped the congregation with a mirthful laugh. It took her about three paces to start trying to do cartwheels all the way down.
Either way, she left her creator and siblings in the dust, looking like someone else and trying to beat her own cartwheel record of zero.
Zenia is born, takes the appearance of Ruina, and cartwheels to Galbar.
One of the Shards had been ripped away from the group by the growing planet below. Like a falling star it tore through the skies and plopped down into the depths, water sizzling and evaporating as it sank. After a few moments, the surface of the water settled and no evidence remained of the event that had transcurred…
And then the whole damned area exploded.
Heat vaporized everything, and the shockwave that ensued pushed the waters of the ocean away for long enough that, for a split moment, one could see a nearly perfect sphere of destruction marr the surface of the newborn planet. In the middle of that destruction, as the waters came rushing back en force, was a massive and flaming engine of unknown design.
In short order the unknown machine had been covered back up in water but even though at that point it laid under kilometers of ocean, it was still functioning. A noxious substance soon spread along the surface of the water, its colour a sickly and repulsing green and its contexture like that of oil.
Eventually, the incredible flow of the substance slowed down to a halt and from the unseen depths rose a form--Humanoid, with skin gray as half-burnt coal and eyes and hair made of liquid, flowing flames. Powerful laughter echoed from the form, liquid flame dripping from his mouth and causing mini explosions when coming into contact with the water below. He laughed and laughed until he was out of breath and clutching his sides, doubled over mid-air.
Then, he took a deep breath, wiped away the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes and flicked them at the ocean.
“That was cool. The water collector I just made in the bottom of this ocean sure is bound to come in handy. Wait-” the form squinted his eyes as he looked back at the depths in the direction he just came from. The hole he had made in the thick layer of waste has been covered already though, so he just ended up shrugging. “Well, you never know when you’re gonna need a water collector that’s deep in the ocean and in the middle of nowhere, Astus.”
With a flick of his head (which inevitably sent dollops of his flames everywhere, causing even more explosions), Astus looked around. Almost immediately, his grin vanished and he shrugged. “Kinda empty, but hey! That just means you get to make everything just how you like it.”
And with that, he floated away from his first CoolMachine.
Astus falls into the oceans as a shard, then explodes and vaporizes everything around him as he comes into being. After that, he creates a water collector… In the middle of the ocean… And pollutes a small area around it with noxious substances in the process. He mentally names it the CoolMachine #1 (patent pending).
Starting=10 Used 1 Vigour to make a cool explosive entrance Created a water collector for free. Ending=9
“Rise! Heed this call of mine! Become the gods of Galbar!”
The voice commanded, and so in its very first moment of being the shard of divinity knew what it was to be destroyed. It shivered at the words, changing from a thing of endless potential into a peculiar glassy crystal, and then shattering in a blinding blast that dispersed it across the sky of the world below. The sky of Galbar. The particles drifted apart, and the broken shard, She felt herself spread thinly over all that was.
Yet no less alive. She soaked in the heat of the gateway to her Fath- Her Lord's abode, and she sensed the others he had pulled from his very essence. She understood them, and felt awe as she considered that they were aspects of Heat, Cold, the very Earth upon which her Lord had set her to build a world. Even the darkness of the skies. She was born among them, an equal, a being with an Aspect pulled from the very essence of the Lord of Reality himself. That was all true, but no matter how hard she looked, that which was her aspect and which she was, was nowhere in this world. She did not represent anything which was real. She was not, as her peers, immutable.
She was not constant. The realization sent a surge of panic through her, and soon the thin shell of dust suspended above Galbar that was her body began to glow with incandescent heat. Terror rose in her, but not faster than a recollection of her Lord’s words, spoken even before she was herself in totality. Yes, she remembered.
“Rise of give meaning to this blankness! Let my will be done!”
Meaning to blankness. She was not fundamental, not as some of her peers were, but as she looked upon them more closely she realized the truth. Not all of her peers were fundamental. Some represented things she did not understand. Some were like her, manifestations of aspects that did not exist, that had never existed before now.
It occurred to her, though, that she would never like to feel the terror that still lurked in her again. To be a representation of nothing… Burned. It was unacceptable. So, if others were immovable, fundamental, well she would be too. And she wouldn’t be the first to have the idea. Terrible storms raged below the thin cloud that she was, their tumult having shrouded the blue seas of Galbar. Seas that she knew had not been there forever.
So it was, and so it would be. She drew herself into a ring around the world below, still burning with visible heat, and she focused the strength she’d been given into a single task: grow. The multitude of crystals that made up her body expanded and melted and burned brightly against the darkness of the sky so far above the surface of Galbar. Within moments a liquid halo, burning white hot, girded the world and grew until its heat began to reach the blanket of clouds below and evaporate them.
A thin band of ocean was exposed to the radiant ring of molten crystals, and for the first time she spoke, to her peers, to her creator, and to the universe at large, "I am the Goddess Sala, and by my Lord's will I shall bring Salt into this empty world!"
Her voice boomed from the glowing ring that she had become, and then she let herself fall. In a moment enough molten salt to have formed a solid ring around Galbar itself crashed into the world's seas, and there was a bang so loud it shook the canvas of creation itself. Physical mountains of liquid salt crashed into the waves and in the blink of an eye turned enough water into steam that vast jets of it were blown into the very space the salt ring had fallen from. So much water was torn from Galbar in the violence that, far above, there formed brilliant wide rings of ice in the sky.
Sala felt herself, for the second time, being torn apart. The water broke her apart, but she endured within it as she had endured far above it. In truth, it was a feeling of absolute bliss as the currents broke her apart and spread her across the world once more, but she was forced to pull herself together and resist. Her task was not finished, and until it was she could not be sure. She directed the salt that was her being, now beginning to cool and forming huge piles that towered above the water, to burrow into the world itself.
Rock groaned, resisted, but failed to stop her. She burrowed into it, and as her body melted once more in the heat deep below ground, she released her hold on it. The unthinkably large band of salt, a belt around the world itself, was pushed deep into the magma laden bowels of Galbar and set free.
It took time, but even before the task was done Sala began to see the fruits of her labours. Cracks formed across the sea floor, all over Galbar, and from them came jets of liquid salt bubbling up from the dense soup of rock that was the world's interior. She felt her aspect spreading through the world's heart and oceans, becoming a part of it irrevocably.
When it was done, she began to take a form apart from the salt she’d set loose in the world. She detached herself from the whole of her element and formed her body into a smaller cloud of gaseous salts, colourful and brilliant in how they boiled and churned the water she was immersed in. At their center she crystallized a simple form, made in the basic image of some of her peers. Two arms, two legs, a head. As she tried to lift an arm she felt herself break into pieces, but that was no matter. The gas around her rushed into her painless wounds, and though she shattered at the slightest movement she could be as elegant in motion as any of her peers with the rest of her body to replenish the affectation at its center.
As she took on her true form Sala felt her salt move through the ocean, and felt vaguely bad about blasting a part of it into the sky, though the ice rings were magnificent. Still, her peer whose aspect was water was bound to her now, they would never be free of her and she of them. The thought made her jubilant, and so she did her fellow a favour and undid the damage she’d wrought.
With a mote of the power granted to her Sala reached out to the innumerable vents pushing her aspect into the endless waves of the ocean and filled their hearts deep below the surface with water. She felt salts bubble within the runny mess that the bedrock became so deep beneath the ground, and with a bit of persuasion she convinced them to bind to the new water and continue on their path to the surface to join and replenish the ocean. It was a little thanks to a peer she was already coming to know. She was sure they would meet soon, and where better than the place the very God of Earth had called them all to?
Though, she didn’t quite feel like his sister.
5 Vigour = Massive ring of molten salt being made and plunged into the mantle so it can bubble up and salinate the ocean. When it crashes into the ocean it explodes and vents so much water into space that Galabr has new ice rings!
1 Vigour = Replenishing some seawater and making the vents shoot brine and not molten salt.
Sala is made! Woo!
Downside, Sala explodes. Salt is not a durable crystal and birth is a terrifying process for every species. So exploded Sala is spread in an orbital shell all around Galbar, and while she’s there she senses her siblings and gets very insecure. Earth, Heat, Cold? All that shit exists, and here Sala is being the Goddess of Salt, something she sure as fuck cant see anywhere. She has a little crisis, but recalls the Monarch talking about the world being blank and needing meaning. Sala works out there are other Gods and Goddesses of things that don't exist yet, but she didn’t take the realization that those Divines exist at all well. She decides she needs to be just as fundamental as they are and looks to Ao for inspiration.
Ao went ham, so Sala does too. She expands her dispersed dusty body into a huge, like absurdly large, ring of incandescent molten salt around the entire planet. This halo literally evaporates the storm clouds below because it's so big and hot, and once it’s big enough she lets it go and it falls into Galbar. The salt explodes the ocean so hard that Galbar gets COOL ICE RINGS WOOOO! The salt then burrows into the mantle and starts bubbling up all over the oceans, and Sala mixes water into those vents to replenish the bit of the ocean she yeeted into space as a favour to Ao.
Finally she decides to go to Voligan because Ao might be there and she wants to meet c:
Shen Zhi Shu One of the Ancient Gods, was Shen Zhi Shu, the God of Plans. He was also, due to his nature a creative god. Due to his intentions on creating a Utopia, Shen Zhi Shu would work with the other gods to create a piece of the new Galbar. He had the form of a magnificent golden dragon at the moment. And with a great effort, he unleashed, as his first breath in the new existence, unleash an enormous blast of raw divine force, meant to shape a piece of Galbar into a land that would be his. Wordlessly, Shen Zhi kept his breath blowing into the chaotic quagmire of mass the other gods were shaping. The land where his breath would touch would be his, when all was said and done. He had magnificent plans in store for what would be the mortals to come. Finally, when he was done unleashing the divine storm from his mouth, he rested, and smiled.
The land he would create, shape and manipulate would form into lands of magnificent mountains, plains, woodlands and rivers. There, the mortals could grow their rice paddies, and their other crops, mine iron, and create many magnificent things. But not without his guidance. He would one day raise an Empire worthy to be among the most powerful, prosperous and virtuous in the history of the entire world of Galbar. ANY history of Galbar, perhaps. Even throughout the infinitely progressive cycles of history that would go beyond the entirety of time.
The land was lovingly crafted as a master piece. Fertile, mineral rich, capable of providing for abundant flora and fauna such as bamboo forests, yes, panda, the tigers, and maybe even natural dragons. In due time, Shen Zhi Shu could see that there was much left to accomplish. He had just begun.
-8AP to create his Future lands -4 AP for the land it'self -4 AP for Eco System of his future country. -2 AP for the creation of natural dragons. They have the power to live perpetually in water sources or the clouds, and have the power to breath great gusts of wind or mist. These occasionally might hunt other animals but rarely bother with people, when people exist, that is. 0 AP left out of 10
When at first the glorious hymn Whispered of the Monarch’s will: There upon the ‘thereal hill Flowed the dance-cup to the brim;
Flowed too much, it would appear, And never ceased to overflow: For in creation’s afterglow It stained the great eye of the Seer
It should be known - not that the tapestry, over which the Seer is in all ways Queen, is blind to it of course - that the one known as Rosalind was from the beginning a failed attempt.
Perhaps the Monarch inadvertently, or in a moment of unawareness, created her misshapen - and who does not tire or err, afterall? - or perhaps she, unlucky or stupid even in her primordial uncreatedness, feared to be perfect and willed herself broken.
While the exact why and how of it is neither clear nor, really, very important, the fact remains that Rosalind the Feverfoot did not burst, as her siblings, into the world, but rather quivered, struggled, shuddered, and simply gave up. She did not boast that vital ambition so common to the race of gods, perhaps even then (even in her uncreatedness) consigned to a certain kind of doom.
But that is of little surprise, for it is not Rosalind the Feverfoot herself who is of interest here, but rather the fever itself. Observing the full length of Rosalind the Feverfoot’s life - as anyone possessing some Sight is free to do - one is rather immediately struck by the simple fact that no lavish act of creation, no great divine spark, no fit of wanton destruction - that is to say, nothing interesting - was ever carried out by Rosalind the Feverfoot’s own will. No, it was the fever.
But perhaps I am getting rather ahead of myself. With such things - even matters so unusual - it is best to begin, as with all things, at the beginning.
When Rosa crawled - or rather, was pulled willing or unwilling - out of the shard, she emerged tip-tap top-tip tap-top tapping. She didn’t crawl out, as one would expect, head first, but was rather dragged out by the feet. By her feet. She stood there, blinking and looking side to side, before realising that she was… bobbing.
Her brows furrowed.
She blinked.
Her frown deepened.
Then slowly she extended her chin and took one long glance down. And the glance became a fixed stare nestled beneath befuddled brows.When the strange spell was broken, she looked around her with visible consternation. Her alarm was, naturally, in no way assuaged by the odd beings taking form and bursting all about, and she found herself flailing in pursuit of shelter, or some safe place from where she could attempt to understand what was occurring and decipher the great cacophony of noise they were making. But her feet did not obey her and she instead went hurtling head over heels into the nothingness, twisting and turning as her feet continued tip-top-tapping wildly. “W-wao- he- help.” She croaked, and - despite her careering form - her hands immediately shot to her mouth in shock. She had made a sound.
And to that sound, an answer soon followed. A rasping, crunching noise rang out nearby, like an echo of glass crushed underfoot, of an ancient, weathered tree crumbling at last under the weight of years and rot. Over the span of the bridge, close by where she had just tumbled over into the boundlessness of the sky, one of the shards had come to rest, and it was now vibrating with what she realized were cachinnations of wicked mirth. The quivering grew more intense by the moment, until the fragment of divinity began to splinter and crack - to darken and deepen - to well and ripple like the surface of a murky river -
It shattered into many faceted branches, which lengthened as if by living growth and resolved themselves into a looming, glossy figure, with hooked feet and many, too many, darting and grasping arms. A rift burst open in what passed for its face, and a cold white glare spilled out as a great gemstone eye looked out upon the world.
“Wah-wao!” the being jibed in its crushing, crumbling voice, crouching on the edge of the bridge, “Ha-help! And why should anyone help you?”
He leapt, insect-like, into the void, and as he swept by Rosa with an unpleasant chilly gust, his arms multiplied for an instant, and turned all ahead, and it was as though he was being carried upon some invisible yet swift current, so light and flowing was his motion. Then the arms lessened and splayed out, and he evenly slid to a halt, as if standing upon a vast hand that gently raised him into place. He circled her in a few more bounds, now fluidly rushing forward, now mildly coming to hover in place, and all the while he crackled and cackled as his eye swept from side to side.
“See here, how light and agile I am!” he boasted as he finally landed back upon the bridge, six arms held out in self-satisfied display, “Can you be like me? Nay, you cannot! For I am IQELIS, who knows the way of all things and in whom all things must end. Remember that, and something might come of you yet.”
Rosa, eyes wide and hands trembling, only gaped at Iqelis with a mixture of horror and awe. She moved her lips, opened them and closed them mechanically - as though searching for breath that would not come - and finally settled on not speaking but only beating her arms in a poor imitation of the other god. It looked ridiculous and clumsy, and did not help her gain any control. If anything, the entire affair seemed only to excite her kicking, quivering feet’s quick core. “Th-thank you,” she mouthed, then coughed, “Eguilis.” And she beat her arms as her feet kicked feverishly, causing her to go tumbling by. “B-but that didn’t help at aaaallllll.” Her frail voice reached Iqelis and very quickly faded as the distance between them grew. “H-hel-”
The one-eyed god shook his head and vaulted away, disappearing into the expanse of the sky.
The Shard that carried the power of Prescience was a light one and so it had been flung out faster and therefore farther than the rest. As the first of the others awakened, this Shard still soared weightlessly through the void of space and away from the bridge to Heaven. Its motion slowed only some time later when the Shard began to seize its sentience.
With newfound awareness and purpose, it arrested its wandering through sheer force of will and then began to crack. Laden with some sudden and electrifying power, it cleaved itself in twain, and then again, and again. The destructive recursion continued, pieces splitting into smaller and smaller halves until there was nothing but a cloud of fine dust, and then the infinitesimal motes finally sublimated into nothingness, becoming one with the void of space all around. In the end what remained was akin to a ripple upon the surface of a still pond, a disembodied spirit. It felt free -- at last! -- from the confines of the Shard that had been its prison. Those mere moments had each felt like an eternity to the consciousness that had been entombed within.
This released and mighty Shard-Spirit now needed a name, but fortunately it found one quickly -- Yudaiel. It hadn’t chosen this name, rather it had seen and then instinctively read its own name written somewhere upon creation, somewhere nearly unseeable. Perhaps that name had been carved upon its, no, on her very own essence. Wherever it was, she had seen it and adopted it eagerly enough.
Yudaiel was formless and ethereal and she had no eyes, but in a sense she was one great eye, and there were many, many things that she perceived within her Sight all at once. The images bombarded her; they were so vivid and so numerous that they merged into an overwhelming jumble of sensation. The chaos and discord of creation, even as desolate as it was on that first day, was such that in the moment she didn’t know how to make sense of what she saw. Still, the first lucid thought that coursed through her consciousness was a grand realization, an excited declaration, ‘I...see!’
The first thing that she isolated from the ataxia and cast her gaze towards was the place from where she had been scattered, or rather it was the heavenly palace behind that bridge whence her shard had been flung out. She had been cast away, and perhaps there was a reason for that, but in that instant she had no mind for caution or logic and allowed herself to be consumed in a moment of passion and curiosity. Propelled by thought, she tore through the empty void of space with unimaginable swiftness, seeking out the palace!
It was in the fraction of a second before - or perhaps the seconds succeeding - her rapturous takeoff that Yudaiel first recognised how much she disliked the unexpected. When the Prescient one engulfed Rosalind Feverfoot, who was tumbling through the emptiness of space droning out her cry for help, the only immediate consequence seemed to be the sudden standstill to which both came.
The chaos that Yudaiel had seen was meanwhile magnified a hundredfold; her Sight was now capable of perceiving only a kaleidoscope of mayhem. There was a haze surrounding everything, something that clouded the future -- without even realizing it, she had been looking not within the present but at the future mere moments away, when she would have arrived at that marvelous palace and basked in its wonder up close -- but now that future was too obscure to see. The haze that blocked her Sight, that blinded and defiled her, wriggled and gasped -- another Shard.
In her perpetually confused manner, Rosa blinked and opened her mouth. Her feet kicked - but that was not unusual, as she by now knew. They kicked some more, but not quite enough to draw her full attention. She merely observed the empty space around her with veritable bafflement. “I thought there was…” she muttered under her breath.
Yudaiel withdrew, recoiling away from Rosalind and pulling the entirety of her expansive cloud of consciousness back in the direction that she had come. As if nothing had happened, she tried then to skirt around this crude impediment and reach the palace, but it was too late. Rosalind had already been touched strongly and directly with Yudaiel’s essence. Indeed, the dancer’s left foot wrenched awkwardly, and at that exact moment - as her brows began to rise, curiosity began to flower, and eyes began to move towards her feet’s strange motions - the full gravity of the epicentre of that which tied all pasts, all futures, and all presents fell upon her oblivious brow.
Tip.
Like a droplet on the surface of a lake spun from stillness.
Top.
Like the gentle awakening of that first and most perfect of waves at the centre of it all.
Tap.
Like the beatific rising of a vermilion mushroom, searing surge after undulating surge into the fabric of the world.
Her feet flowed and her eyes blazed; each shoulder carried the wide horizons and each arm seemed strung to springs - now whirling, now swiftly, stiffly, strictly returning, now rising bent, now extending, now flying and now turning. Stamp, forth she came, stamp back she went, tip-tap-top, tip-tap-top, tip-tap-top, with the floorless space she played. Eyes widening - I see you, now fear me, come hear me, I’ll free you - head turning (you’re worthless; off with you, won’t see you, won’t know you). Hips twisting, gyrating, skirt flying, vibrating - stamp, stamp, stamp, tip-top-tap, tip-top-tap, tip-top-tap-
Rosalind the Feverfoot - and truly, there was very little Rosalind remaining and much Fever - whirled and pulsated inside the cloud that held the raging aeons, the whites in her twilight eyes turned to dusk, the female form that hosted her losing structure with each movement, each turn, each stamp, each cry - her frame convulsed, back arched, eyes swelled, mouth bowed in a smile of agony and bliss - and about her the very stuff the Prescient was made of began to circumambulate the circling, stamping, twisting dancer. And as the dance imbibed the tapestry’s stuff, the dance too was imbibed - so that there, where dance and ethereal time-stuff tangoed and pushed and grated and struggled, movement became one with being so that never again would the Prescient be entirely the Prescient, or the Feverfoot entirely the Feverfoot.
With one violent and final pull, Yudaiel at last managed to tear herself away from Rosalind. Disentangled now, that all-consuming and burning drive to reach the palace had been subjugated by an even more overwhelming bewilderment. Yudaiel felt different somehow, and the first hints of panic that she had ever experienced were creeping into her mind. ‘What has happened? What have I done?’ her mind demanded.
With a twitch, her eye instinctively changed its focus and cast its Sight back, back in time. She caught a glimpse of what had just occurred. From a different, alien, and much more omniscient angle, she witnessed her half-blind and unaware self bumbling into this fellow Shard without abandon as had occurred moments ago.
But this was not all that she saw, the discord of the tapestry weaving into the background and to the sides and stretching on so, so far, with no discernable horizon at all. Behind that event, even further in the dark beginnings of the past, she saw something terrible. This time, the panic did not merely creep; horror had a face. And even as Yudaiel beheld it, the face of that horror descended also upon the dancing Feverfoot’s shoulders so that for one terrible second she froze and gasped.
Then shook.
And she moved and twisted so that motion forgot her body in a blur; skin was shed and hair erupted, burned, and spread across the emptiness of space like a never-ending canopy. The dance came heavy, it shook the foundations of the world. It tore into the fabric of reality. It tip-top-tapped across the vein of time and slithered across the tapestry’s threads. Ancient horrors were best left to sleep - they should never be unveiled on motion.
And it was for that reason that in the great moment of divine birth, as the gods all blossomed like flowers and fluttered into being, doom suddenly gaped and pulsated and laughed such as to delight more than ever the hearts of those like Iqelis. It pulsated across the empty spaces. It pulsated to the bridge and through the great divine palace. It pulsated across Galbar’s ring and its waters, and even across the breadth of its roiling ocean and to its salty depths; and below even those. Through the newborn gods it pulsated. In an aeon or now, what difference did it make? Doom was here, is here, and will ever be here. A crystalline eye peered out from behind a cloud of icy fragments, and crackling, triumphant laughter wove through the crash of revelation.
It was then, when the dance of Rosalind the Feverfoot had reached its zenith and reality around her was disentangling and time itself seemingly unwinding, that the heavy hand of He descended - ignoring the calls and requests of the other gods who had bowed to Him and requested instruction - to set reality aright once more. In a moment, Rosalind’s form-made-motion froze, thrall to an unseen force. The will of the Creator manifested unseen and as an unnerving gaze swept its way to rest on Feverfoot, stern and unyielding.
He did not move. He did not give inclination towards the conversations that the other gods were attempting with Him, but instead He appeared in front of her without giving any noticeable motion. He had no reason to speak a command to cause her fever-pitched dance to stop, for His will alone was stronger than any desire that Rosalind could have in that moment. Her dance thus silenced, the material form of the dancing goddess convalesced all at once, beginning with her feet, calves, thighs, followed by a swirl of black clouds as an ankle-length skirt formed up, then her torso, arms, neck and head, from which exploded the dusky tendrils of her wild hair. Her eyes of twilight beheld the god of gods; she shuddered and knew that, even if she had been able to control her untamed form, she could not move. But there was one movement, for at that moment silent, fearful tears cascaded down her face.
A pained breath wheezed its way into reality, chastising Rosalind for her reckless dance. ‘Just born and seeking to undo this very reality I have brought you into? No. If I must suffer this prison of Galbar, then it is you who shall share it with me, your creator.’
His voice gave no indication of emotion past a coldness that chilled the fever that Rosalind suffered, her dance becoming wholly interrupted and even her ever-tapping feet ceasing, before the gaze of the almighty shifted to that of the Eye and cast an already judgmental look to Yudaiel. The look alone conveyed all that needed saying: ‘Never again,’ it rebuked - a look of vague disappointment, masked by weary pain. He looked back to Rosalind as though to emphasise that his words applied to them both.
‘You have such tremendous power, yet no control has been brought to you. Then again, why would you know control? You were just brought into reality. Let this be your first lesson, a lesson of restraint before recklessly exuding your power, young goddesses.’
Rosa sniffed and wiped her tears on her arm and seemed to regain her composure, and then a silent sob racked her body and her face crumpled again. “What... What was that? What’s happening? I saw things- and my feet. And then I couldn’t feel myself- and then-” her voice broke and she buried her face in her hands.
’You allowed yourself to succumb to visions, little dancer. This is forgivable for the time being, though, know that now you have experienced it, you cannot allow yourself to be taken ahold of again. Such things would be unbecoming of a goddess.’
The voice of the Monarch of All bore down in a tone that shifted from condescending to one of brief care, allowing His eyes to blink once as the invisible force that bound Rosalind released her. She blinked in surprise and curious gratefulness broke through the cloud of fear and confusion as she glanced at the primordial. Tilting His head slightly, the Almighty spoke once more, His tone becoming neutral and otherwise uncaring once again.
‘Calm yourself.’ His command seemed to immediately freeze whatever tears remained in Rosa’s eyes. She sniffed, swallowed, and wiped the vestiges of wetness on her arm again. Despite the moment of almost-gentleness from the Monarch, it was not a calmness of serenity that gripped her, but rather the calmness of terror - terror that to be anything other than calm would invite punishment. She withdrew into herself and dropped her eyes to the planet and great nothingness that extended below, and was silent and deferent.
Yudaiel, meanwhile, was a fountain. She did not respond to the two’s words in kind; she had no tongue for it. Instead the ideabstractions flowed and she radiated her indignation, quite palpably and literally, into the minds and bodies of those around. There was a soaring glass sphere, pristine and aglow with beauty and power as it sailed gracefully through black seas of nothingness, not a care in the world, towards some distant light. The light was bright, and it refracted upon the crystalline sphere and bent into an even more blinding and distracting rainbow of awesome color. So vivid was that color that, when there was suddenly some loathsome lump of jagged rock that erupted from the void-sea as though it had manifested from nothingness, there was no time to stop. The scintillating glassy orb struck it and shattered, and there was Pain, so much of it. Where before there had been rainbows and golden light to beacon the way forward, there was only an all-consuming darkness refracting off the broken shards of glass now. And then along came a great hand, a wise and guiding hand that should have ground the rock to dust and then carefully reassembled the glass sphere, but instead it waved in a scoffing-sort of motion and scattered the broken glass without a hint of pity or remorse.
Rosalind shrunk under the weight of Yudaiel’s furious scorn and only managed to mutter a small, “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean-,” under her breath.
There were no words from the Almighty, no words that could be let out in response to the visions that Yudaiel had let out, but a scorn did emanate from His form. The Creator looked upon the eye allowing a momentary glare to pierce into the very spirit of the Seer, willing her own scorn to be overcome with fear of the Monarch. A hint of defiance seeped through the conduit of the ideabstraction for a moment, but then it was crushed. The already terror-struck Rosa could not even begin to bear the terrible pressure and fell unconscious where she stood, her body immediately beginning to drift away towards Galbar.
Only momentarily did that dreadful aura emanate into the surrounding area of His form before it was silenced and reality seemed to come back to normal. A few words were spoken from His nonexistent maw, disregarding Rosa for the moment. ‘You are dismissed. Go, create upon this world of ours.’ Once those words were spoken and Yudaiel departed, the Monarch moved over to the drifting form of Rosa and motioned a hand just above her, slowly and methodically, before light erupted around her wrists. A set of multicolored bangles gave way as the light faded. He spoke to her in a hushed whisper, but His word worked its way into her unconscious mind. ‘Until you learn to control your movement and your emotion, you shall not unleash such power again. Once you learn such things, they will magnify your performance twofold.’
Rosa comes into being and drifts around, unable to control her wildly kicking body. Iqelis, lord of DOOM, emerges and dances around her, showing off his superior movements. He tells her to help herself out rather than mewl for help from others. She’s a lost cause however!
Eventually Yudaiel comes into being a fair distance from the palace. Once her ethereal body has fully emerged, she sonic booms towards the palace, only to crash head-first into the drifting Rosa. There is a big explosion, a cosmic nuclear blast goes off, they see into the past and something horrendous seeps into Rosa’s wild dancing, threatening to DESTROY EVERYTHING. It’s very dramatic.
Then the Monarch roflstomps all that and tells them to behave. Yudaiel uses ideabstractions to force the two to see things from her own very biased perspective, since she blames all on Rosa and accepts no accountability, but Monarch is unmoved (even as Rosa apologizes) and forces the fear of himself into Yudaiel, scaring Rosa unconscious in the process. Yudaiel is a big girl though and isn’t scared of big bad dad. Because Rosa is papa’s favourite, she gets a set of bangles as a gift.
The Monarch:
Bangles of Containment - A set of bangles that seal away extreme destructive energies resulting from Rosa’s loss of control. They do not completely seal her fever away and it is still possible for her to lose control, but there is no threat of truly terrible cosmic experiences, such as seeing the past and future all at once, resulting in Galbar-breaking damage.
