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Iternis


The ground buckled and bent underneath Iternis’s feet. Great forces broiled under the earth that sent waves of power towards the surface. While any animal or mortal would merely feel a slight tremor, the God of Journeys sensed the true, terrifying energy rising and threatening the world. Iternis knew that if he had been closer to the source, the great Verdant One, he would see and feel much more physical upheaval, but regardless, he could still feel the dangerous and angry energy swirling through the vast underground beneath.

Something had enraged the Tree of Genesis.

Although Iternis had never laid eyes on his older sibling, he had memories and feelings held over from his time in the Lifeblood and could also feel the behemoth’s massive roots that pierced through every corner of the globe. There was no doubt in Iternis’s mind that, if the Tree was truly angered, if it decided to fight something with it’s full strength, the galbar that he had just come to experience would be destroyed.

Iternis shed his mortal form, exploding into a cloud of feathers as he flew towards the heavens; while being caught on the ground during a Great Upheaval would not kill him, it certainly would inconvenience him. He turned his flock to the World Anchor, listening to the faint song that had begun to emanate from the whole of everything grow in anger and urgency. From his viewpoint, Iternis could just make out the Omnibloom on the horizon, great, serrated roots thrusting skywards.

Iternis sighed, he did not know what could possibly be foolish enough to assail the Tree of Genesis, but they had certainly destroyed any chance at Galbar continuing as it was now.

Suddenly, Iternis felt the raging energy recede from the roots below and the Worldsong returned to its quiet harmonies. In the distance the vicious roots of the First Tree retracted into the earth and Iternis let out another sigh, this time it was one of relief.Galbar was so young but already the whims of the gods threatened to burn its crib to ashes.

Iternis swarmed back down to the ground and condensed into the form of a man. He began walking, taking in all the world around him. The trees still grew. The bird still sang. The deer still browsed and the Stone Birds still charged through the mountains. None seemed to be aware they had almost been snuffed from existence not moments before. Things probably couldn’t go on like this. No, they won’t go on like this.

Iternis didn’t know how he knew, but he knew that eventually, and probably soon, the Gods would have to leave Galbar or stop using so much power.He could already feel some small tumultuous eddies within the Lifeblood. Not the kind that shatter into new gods, but something different, something new. Iternis broke himself away from that train of thought.. The problem with inevitabilities is that you always get there, so trying to plan how to approach it seems a little superfluous.

One way or another, Iternis will soon have to leave Galbar and he would be damned if he didn’t experience as much of the young planet as he could before that day. The god dropped to his knees, taking the soft, loamy soil of the Anchor into his hands. He could wander around aimlessly, hoping he found satisfaction, or he could make a guide.

Iternis tossed the dirt up into the air, letting it fall back down. But before the clods of moist earth could return to their starting places, they seemed to splatter against some invisible form, sticking to and revealing the shape of the object. Iternis then spun his foot through the dirt, casting upwards a spray of material that filled out the image of a large chest. Iternis took more dirt into his hands and began patting it on the new form of his creation, shaping it as he went.

He wanted to make something special, not just a new type of animal or some race of mortals. Those were done to death at this point. Sure, Iternis needed mortals to survive, but he also needed more than just survival to be happy. As Iternis’s hands ran along the soft soil, shaping smooth, strong legs, he began to think about what he wanted. He mostly wanted company, but he could probably get that from any manner of god or mortal. He wanted something a little bit more intimate than that, something that wasn’t just one of his creations but also something that was his own.

A child?

Iternis shuddered at that thought as he crafted a strong neck and began to work on the profile of a proud face. He had a very limited knowledge of the way families worked, what with him and all his siblings “birth” being ejected from a tumultuous and primordial soup of an entity. Even so, he didn’t think he wanted to attempt procreating at the moment. He probably could do it with a mortal if he wanted- he probably could do it by himself- but at the moment that role didn’t quite jump out at him. He picked up the last clump of dirt and began to shape a long tail before stepping back and admiring the figure he had created.

He stood before what looked to be a large statue of a four-legged beast. He stood tall, taller than Iternis’s form, which was stylized after the common mortals. Long legs descended from a barrel chest and ended in large paws. A lengthy, sweeping tail hung behind powerful haunches and the stout, sturdy neck was capped in a wolf-like head that held rounder and softer features.. With a small smile Iternis snapped his fingers, causing the pert ears of the new being to flop down playfully.

Iternis realized, above all, he just wanted a simple companion, a loyal friend.

Iternis breathed life into the soil statue and in an instant long wiry fur covered the beast’s body. The figure fell to the ground, supporting its weight for the first time. Iternis was worried he may have hurt himself, but the sound of a tail thumping quickly dispersed the god’s worries. The new life turned his enormous head towards his creator, intelligent, copper eyes glinting from underneath long-furred brows and a wide tongue lolling from his maw.

“Who are you?” the figure asked, looking quite shocked, “-Oh... I wasn’t expecting to be able to talk!”

“You must forgive me,” the god laughed, “I did take away the chance for you to learn language on your own, I hope you don’t mind.”

The large dog cocked his head, thinking for a little before speaking.

“I don’t think I do: it would be a lot harder to talk to you if you hadn’t,” He rumbled, his voice like warm rain on dry dirt, “So I guess that means you are my creator?”

“Maybe,” Iternis ducked his head in a very noncommittal gesture, “But I certainly could have had a role in it. I am, however, without a doubt, Iternis, God of Journeys.”

Iternis gave a little bow as the great dog stood up to his full height. The hound pressed his wet nose into Iternis’s face, taking in deep draughts of air and ruffling the god’s feather crown.

“You don’t smell very godly.” He murmured as well as any dog could murmur, “And you are rather small.”

“Perhaps. Maybe you are just very big!”

“Perhaps, but that still doesn’t explain why you don’t smell like a god,” The dog retorted, sniffing Iternis’s whole being for good measures.

“How would you even know what a god is supposed to smell like,” Iternis laughed as he pushed his companions great muzzle away from his face, ”You don’t even know your own name!”

“Oh…” the dog reeled a little, falling onto his haunches as he pondered that statement, “I guess I don’t. What is my name?”

“I was hoping you would be able to figure that out,” the god said as he looked up at the sitting dog, “I wouldn’t want to steal that honor from you.”

“That’s very kind,” the unnamed one bowed in gratitude, before pondering for a while, “But don’t you think that is a little tricky, naming yourself?”

“Nonsense, I did it,” Iternis waved his hand in the air as if swatting the idea away, “I did it and that certainly helped me a whole of a lot in finding out what I wanted to be.”

“But you are a God, no matter how little you smell like it,” the dog rebutted, “It is right for you to name things, even yourself. As far as I’m aware, I’m no god.”

“So are you wanting me to name you?”

The great beast nodded.

“Well,” Iternis started as he set himself down on the ground cross-legged, “That is a really big task. While I can’t say I expected to have to name you, I did have a few ones bouncing around that I liked. Are you sure you can’t think of any for yourself.”

“Positive,” the creation rumbled as he filled Iternis’s lap with his head.

“Well, then we have some work to do,” Iternis chuckled as he began to stroke and scritch his companion’s ears, “When I got my name, it came to me in an instant and I felt like I had always known it, so I probably just have to try and puzzle it out until you feel the same.”

“If you wanted something fierce, we could go with Verren or maybe Khal, but I don’t think those really fit. We could always default to just descriptors, like Gray or even just Hound but I like being original. Bartholomeo? No, far to regal, I don’t think you would like to have to always be living up to a name like Bartholomeo. Maybe Alder? Harrung?” As Iternis talked and pet the dog’s head, he began to lull into a soft, tired state of contentedness, “I know sharing names with plants is a thing people like so Pepper, Oak, and Lantana are all options, but I feel like you are more than a plant. Bear, Leon, Dragon? No, I don’t think names coming from other beasts suit you either. What if we named you after another god, wouldn’t that be funny. Although it could be confusing with two Fe’ris’s running around. How about my name? Do you want to borrow Iternis? I figured not. Allai, Juri, Nambi, all good options. Dalthal, Cerius, Teva, Po, Toog-”

At that last one the dog perked his head up, meeting Iternis’s silver eyes with his copper ones.

“What does that one mean?” He asked, curiosity pricking up his ears.

‘Toog? Well, I suppose it means you!” The god laughed, ruffling up the dog’s head.

“I suppose it does,” Toog rested his head back into Iternis’s lap, “I suppose it does…”

“Well, now that you have a name, what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” Toog responded, standing back up and towering over his creator, “Explore this world, probably.”

Iternis broke into a broad smile. He laughed and slapped his thighs as he sprung from his sitting position, bouncing as he landed on his feet.

“I was hoping that’s what you would say!” Iternis laughed, “I hope you don't mind if I tag along?”

“Not at all,” Toog chuckled, standing to his full height, “Climb on top, I can carry you faster than you can walk.”

“I can fly.”

“Oh…” Toog paused for a moment, “Do you still want to go with me?”

“Of course I do,” Iternis reassured his new friend, hopping onto the large dog’s broad back and grabbing his coarse fur for support, “Plus, I’m pretty sure that big ol’ nose of yours is way better at finding the interesting stuff to find in this world than I am”

Indeed, when Toog took a great sniff of the world, he could feel all the tendrils of something mixing within his mind. Some divine ergey that swirled around the world and radiated from objects that he could somehow sense from great distances away. In fact, he was startled to realize, he himself radiated that same energy.

“What is all this,” Toog said in awe.

Iternis just chucked, “I can’t smell all that you can smell, but it is probably Divinity. The essence of all that is godly in this world. The more interesting a thing is, the more a god’s touched it I suppose.”

“So I was made to track down all these interesting things for you?”

“Hardly,” Iternis patted Toog’s neck, “You were made so you could track down all these interesting things for you! And you’ll be incredibly good at it, we don’t have much time after all.”

Toog turned his head to face Iternis, his eyes full of surprise, “We don’t have much time? Will it all go away?”

“No, I guess ‘we’ wasn’t the best choice of words there,” Iternis clarified, “I don’t have that much time. I will have to go away. Maybe not soon, but eventually, and any limit makes it not enough time.”

“But why?” Toog seemed frightened at losing his new and first friend.

“Don’t you worry, it isn’t really in our control,” Iternis ruffled the fur around Toog’s neck, “All the gods are going to have to leave. Maybe they all know it, or maybe it's just because I never truly broke all my connections to the Lifeblood, but I know that we will either have to leave or destroy Galbar. I don’t really have a say over which path the rest of the gods choose, but I certainly want to be able to experience Galbar in person while I can. And I figured you would want to come along for the Journey.”

Toog turned his head away, not quite sure how to respond. His flanks swayed in a great sigh and he began to walk. He walked in silence for a while, Iternis sitting straight on his back. As he plotted through the woods, Toog realized that this was the first time he had ever walked, but that didn’t seem like a big deal. He much rather would think of it as that he had been walking for the majority of his life. Which was also true in a sense.

As they walked, Iternis began humming a meandering and rough tune, if you could call it that. It hardly had any rhythm or musical element to it and was barely more than random noise, but still it filled Toog’s chest with contentedness. The two happened upon a chasm, hewn from the rock and that split the mountains. Toog came to a halt at the precipice, looking across the canyon at the other end which was about three hundred feet away.

“Why did you stop?” Iternis broke the long drought of conversation.

“I can’t make that jump.” Toog stated plainly.

“Sure, if you only jump…”Iternis trailed off rather unhelpfully. He leaned down and patted Toog’s neck, “I’m sure you can figure out what to do.”

Toog stood confused for a moment before realizing he did, in fact, know what to do. He took a few steps back and drew in a deep breath. Dirt exploded outwards as Toog’s paws pounded into the soil, a deep rumble growing in his chest. He bounded into the sky and flew over air as Iternis clutched tight to his neck. Toog reached deep into that feeling that rested in the base of his being and then, with all the joy at the idea of living, he let out a deep, earth shattering bark. The sound echoed through the chasm and caused the air to ripple, almost like it tore a hole in the fabric of space. The shimmering ripple of air existed for only a moment, but a moment enough for Toog to pierce through it and land safely on the other end.

Iternis’s laugh dispersed the still echoing bark as the god cheered and hugged Toog’s neck tightly.

“C’mon boy, let’s go see the world.”

Toog smiled as best as a dog could smile and tore off at full speed, leaving everything in his wake. Their Journey had just begun.










Fe’ris and Iternis


Fe’ris’s vast shadow swam across the rocky ground as he soared through the sky. The tumultuous thoomp-thoomp of air being beat down by the large, canvas sails that Fe’ris humbly referred to as “wings” echoed through the many valleys of the Anchor Mountains. His hulking form would occasionally eclipse those below, and send any animal, small or large, running for some place to hide. He was on a mission and he plainly didn’t care for traveling with subtlety; he had opted to take his favorite form for the journey.

He sucked the wind into his enormous snout, tasting and feeling it for any scent of the one he was seeking. The godly essence was fresher than it had been in that dark canyon in the Blood Basin, but he knew the one he longed to see was still a long ways away. Who could this god be? They who had left such a glorious mark on the world and the Alminaki must truly be of the same kind as him. Fe’ris smiled to himself as he tried to picture this God of Contracts.

Although he hadn’t ever actually met another god, Fe’ris knew they were out there. Not only could he feel their fingerprints and desires on almost every speck of this world, he knew there had been another when he had shattered from the Lifeblood, another god that had been close behind him as they plummeted towards Galbar. Could that god then be the one he was seeking now? How nice it would be, two twins in blood, justice, and obligation! All the spines along Fe’ris’s noodly body bristled with anticipation as he began to picture the god.

So Fe’ris flew, his flowing fur fluttering in the wind and his enormous satellite-ears listening to every movement on the ground below and even the ground itself, which recently had started to sing the softest of songs that filled the Batgod’s ears. As he flew, he caught sight of a flock of birds flying his way. He didn’t feel like eating— he was a god, after all, and the only point for shoving objects down your throat when you’re a god is personal enjoyment, so he let out a deep, thunderous growl so they would leave scatter and leave him alone; he didn’t want any bird poop in his scruff. Annoyingly enough, the flock seemed undeterred as they flew at the enormous dragon, filling the air with raucous tweeting as they went. Fe’ris snapped his colossal jaws at the birds when they got near enough, but he somehow managed to miss them all. The little feathered beasts even had the audacity to begin roosting in his fur!

“Begone, you feathery assholes,” Fe’ris growled as he shook his mane to try and shake all the birds off.

“Ah, so I was right,” A voice called out before elaborating, startling the Blood God, “I figured you were a god with a form like that!”

“I suppose, then, that you are a god as well?” Fe’ris rumbled, “How curious. I could not sense your godly presence as you approached.”

“How do you know I’m a god? I could just be the leader of a flock of exceptionally educated sparrows!” The suddenly appearing god said, rather matter of factly.

“Because any sensible sparrows would have had the sense to flee the moment I spoke,” Fe’ris sighed, already tired of this stranger’s company, “And I could detect your shifting of forms on my back; only gods can do that.”

“You’ve caught me red-handed!” The stranger laughed as he picked his way up Fe’ris’s neck and walked on top of his skull, “Although speaking of forms, isn’t this one a bit excessive, Maroon?”

The interloping god plopped down right between Fe’ris eyes, riding the bridge of his snout like he owned it. Fe’ris let a rumble raise in his throat and flicked his massive ears, irritated.

“My name,”he rumbled in a low voice, “Is Fe’ris, not Maroon, and I would ask you to not perch on my nose.”

“Well, Fe’ris,” The god started, wriggling a little to get comfortable in his seat, “You shouldn’t have chosen such an enormous and imposing form if you didn’t want anyone riding you. You can’t say that if the roles were switched and I was the 700 foot giant dragon, you wouldn’t be sitting on my face.”

Fe’ris let out an annoyed blast of warm air from his nostrils. Wordlessly, he decided he didn’t have time for this and cast his great wings out to catch the air, grinding his motion to a halt and hopefully casting the interloper off. For extra measures, when he beat his wings again Fe’ris threw himself into a corkscrew before gliding upside down for a short spurt. He couldn't feel the stranger any more so he went back to trying to follow the trail of that god from the desert but found he had completely lost the scent.

“So, are you done showing off?”

Fe’ris jumped slightly, becoming aware of the fact that the other god was still sitting right on his brow, somehow avoiding Fe’ris’s senses.

“How do you do that?” The bat dragon frowned, “How do you avoid my senses; If you’re a god, how come you don’t give off such a recognizable energy like the god I am trailing?”

“Maybe I am the god you’re trailing,” the stranger offered unhelpfully before walking down Fe’ris’s snout and taking a seat, cross-legged and floating about a foot off of the scaley snout, “Although I don’t think that is the case. My name is Iternis by the way, I don’t think I ever introduced myself.”

“Well, Iternis,” Fe’ris looked away from the god on his nose, trying to pretend he wasn’t there, “You have certainly made me lose the trail. So if you were seeking to annoy me, you have succeeded in that.”

“Oh, sorry about that,” Iternis responded with very little sorry in his voice, “Who were you looking for, anyways?”

Fe’ris gave a disgruntled harumph but decided to humor his companion anyways.

“My twin,” The great god declared as he began to double back to try and refind the trail, “We emerged from the Lifeblood at the same time. I descended to the Blood Basin not three days ago, and they were just behind me. At least, I believe they did. I haven’t actually met them before, you see.”

“That’s so funny!” Iternis exclaimed, “I was heading to the Blood Basin to try and find a god I broke out with! What are the odds!”

“You are right, they are fantastical odds,” Fe’ris mused, “It must have been quite the day for the Lifeblood. I can’t imagine spitting out two pairs of gods would be an easy task.”

“No, I don’t think it would,” Iternis agreed, a broad smile on his face, “On a different note, how do you know that this god you are tracking is your twin?”

“Because I would recognize which of my siblings is indeed my closest in an instant,” Fe’ris began dramatically, not noticing his companion laughing to himself, “You too would know, if you had found someone whose works were so admirable, who you could feel such a deep connection with despite never having met before. This God of Contracts… Well, I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. You did say you had a twin too.”

“Yes, I know exactly what you mean,” Iternis managed to deadpan, while nodding knowingly, “When I first saw my twin, I couldn’t help but think ‘wow, now there’s a person with a flare for the dramatic’, a bit tacky, but dramatic nonetheless.”

“So you have met your twin already? Interesting. I must say, I am curious to hear what it was like.” He snorted again, the noise edging contemptuous. ”A coalescence of those who embody all things irritating, no doubt.”

“Very irritating indeed,” chuckled Iternis. “The most bothersome bunch you ever did meet.”

“Well. This has been nice, but I really must be on my way. If you would be so kind as to depart my facial region, that would be greatly appreciated.”

“I suppose you still do need to find your pal…” Iternis trailed off, “Welp, if you could just set me down on that mountain over there, I’ll be on my way!”

Fe’ris snorted in disapproval. The mountain he had indicated was quite a ways away and, even though Fe’ris had lost the scent of his target, there was little to no chance that was the right direction.

“I was under the impression you could fly,” Fe’ris gave his fellow god a disapproving look, “Turn into that flock of birds and land there yourself.”

“Oh, but I am just so tired from the flight up here!” The God of Journeys dramatically flung himself onto his back, feigning a swoon. “It really shouldn’t be that far out of your way. You are obscenely large, I’m sure you can get there in an instant.”

“Would it be safe to assume that is the only way you will get off of me?”

“Safe as an egg in a nest!”

Fe’ris sighed and began to turn in his flight, casting a woeful glance at his previous course. It wasn’t that far, but the hassle was what made it so bothersome. In a few flaps and just as many minutes, Fe’ris landed on the mountain side, crushing multiple scraggy trees in the impact.

“We have arrived,” Fe’ris growled. “Now get off!”

“I already have!” Iternis called out, somehow already at the treeline, “And you’ll find that that god you were trailing went through here a couple of hours ago!”

“What are you talking about? This is completely off the pa-” Fe’ris became aware of the scent of Tekret filling his senses, way stronger than it had been before, “How did you know this was where I needed to go?”

“That is kind of my job, God of Journeys and all that,” Iternis laughed as he began walking into the undergrowth, “By the way, if things don’t turn out how you expect them to and you need to find me again, just start looking. I’m sure I’ll turn up.”

“What’s that suppos-” Fe’ris had begun but cut himself off when he realized Iternis had already left his sight and all of his other senses. Fe’ris frowned and then took off.

“Strange fellow,” He muttered to himself, “But at least he seemed nice enough, under all the bullshit that is.”

Fe’ris soared through the sky once more, breathing in the air and following the trail of Tekret, pursuing his twin, unaware he had just left him behind.


A Young God


Gods exist for a number of reasons. Some exist, simply because they do and they must. No one stops to ask what spurred Oraelia’s existence. You could try and argue something about the compression of gases in a vacuum and go on and on about the way the sun works but in the end you still have to accept that there is no real reason that Oraelia is the Goddess of the Sun than “of course she is”. All the oldest gods tend to fall into this category.

Other gods tend to exist because the world and all those within it, sapient or otherwise, have a feeling or sense so persistent, so integral to their thinking that it simply must be manifest. These gods sprung from concepts felt by all of life, are probably given the strength to escape the Lifeblood by all this power given to those thoughts. “This is not fair”, “I wish I was better”, “Why can’t things go right?” to name a few.

Of course, some thoughts are so narrow that they could never ever be given power. There is just not enough emotion in the world to force into existence a god of Sniffing a Flower, Sneezing, realizing the Flower Made You Sneeze, and then Moving on with your Life.

Of course the inverse of that can sometimes be true: there can be thoughts or emotions so woven into the existence of any life that, despite how much they matter, will probably never make a god. The emotion of getting hungry, of staying still to not be seen, or deciding to leave you hole to go do something you can’t do in the hole seem like they would be universal enough to spawn a god, but those thoughts and emotions hardly have any drive behind them, there isn’t any being that can have a fire lit in them to such a degree that it borders on madness by the sudden realization that they are kind of craving berries right now and could maybe go get some later, if there aren’t any predators around..

This all may be completely wrong and foolish and there are surely exceptions to this line of thinking, but when it comes down it it, if you're a conscious trapped in the Lifeblood that has been spurred by one of those universal nothing-thoughts, there is very little you can do to escape and become your own god. Despite the power you have, probably from very early on, to try and influence the Lifeblood in some way, you will always be weaker than any other of the passion based concepts. Being a weak conscious like this has really only one real advantage. In fact, it is the same advantage of being small and insignificant when there is another person in the room who is tall, strong, and commands everyone’s attention with their very presence. No one can really see you if you’re just behind that other person’s back…




The Lifeblood exploded. A beam of energy and consciousness shot through the spaces between worlds, quickly followed by another. The first had to exist. It had worked too hard to tear itself away to remain shapeless. And the second one followed.

He trailed his stronger sibling for a while, not quite sure if he had really broken out, if the Lifeblood had truly relinquished its grasp. It was all quite funny, really. He, who had influenced the Lifeblood from within the most, he who arguably had been almost conscious within the Lifeblood, had had to wait for his stronger sibling to make such a momentous exit to break away himself.

At last, after he had become certain that the Lifeblood was not actively pursuing him, trying to suck him back into its folds, he let the great maroon ball of energy he had been tailing pull away. The new god hovered in the air and surveyed his surroundings, absolutely delighted by the novel senses.

He was floating on the edge between two lands. The first was fertile and lush, teeming with all sorts of life. The second was barren and dry, a waste of red. He began to sink towards the ground when something caught his eye. It was a soft yellow thing, flapping smoothly through the air and singing as it went. A bird.

The young god smiled, a deep memory and fondness spurring inside of it. A memory that was like a dream bubbled into his mind, one that seemed to be felt through a mile long layer of gauze that muffled all the senses. The god watched the bird as it wheeled through the air and the image of falling leaves filled his mind, the deepest and first part of his being, back when he was not a he nor even a thought.

The bird whizzed past the energy that was the young god and in an instant the energy condensed into its first form. A cloud of feathers and wings poured out like water from the point where the formless god had been and he felt the wind rushing through the feathers on every one of his bodies. He was a flock! An uncontrollable laugh burbled up in all of his throats. He was free! Free!

The god swarmed down towards the fertile land, singing in joy. No more would he be a semi-conscious ball of energy trapped in the Lifeblood. He could finally live! The flock hit the ground and then the god was running on his legs, his own two legs! The moist dirt exploded under his pounding feet as he ran, feeling the wind in his hair. The god laughed and then changed again, now it was his fur that blew in the breezes as he pounded on paws, knocking rocks to the side simply because he could. He was running and nothing could stop him! His dense body now lept and he twirled in the air, landing now as something much smaller, a rabbit! He bounded through the underbrush, feeling the grass and twigs whip him. He ran so fast when the lake started he just kept running on the water's surface. Then he plunged under! He held his breath as his long, scaly tail thrust him forward but then he had gills and darted with fins. He leapt from the water and flapped away on wings made of skin until it changed and landed on the ground, turning into a deer to run with the herd it had startled. It ran in ran, changing faster and faster. More often and more times until it began to lose shape and form and thought and it had forgotten it was ever a he, the Lifeblood’s long tendrils creeping back into its mind and pulling it into its folds.

“Enough!”

He let out a scream as he fell to his knees, snapping the tendrils and forcing the Lifeblood back again. He wouldn’t go back. He couldn’t go back, not now that he had a taste of existing. The new god lay gasping for breath in the wet soil. Night had fallen and the beautiful fields of the Gardens had disappeared. How much time he had spent half-consumed by the Lifeblood he did not know.

“I was reckless,” he whispered to himself, “Far too reckless”

He had made himself too unstable, he had switched forms too much. He had just burst from the Lifeblood, a formless entity. How stupid must he be to have not given himself a stable form! No wonder the Lifeblood tried to suck him back up. The god growled and beat his head with his fist.

[color=LightYellow]“Moron, idiot,” he shouted at himself, “You don’t even have a name or a form yet you tried to exist outside the Lifeblood.”

He looked up at the sky, the moon hanging there against the backdrop of the stars. He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. Now was not the time to not be entirely sure of himself, if he got to broken up about this the Lifeblood would just have to pick up the crumbs and he wouldn’t exist anymore. He needed to become stable.

“Does anyone want to give a name,” he said aloud to no one in particular, “I could maybe go ask Maroon what they think I should be called, but I suppose they probably already have given themselves an identity. They seemed so sure of themselves.”

The nameless god walked along the ground and looked around. This place was certainly full of life, although quite different from the Gardens. Everything was the most steeped in something or another, be it water, mud, or mist. The mud squeezed up between the God’s toes as he walked and he could feel the life of many living things pulsing and writhing under his feet.

“I’m sure this bog has a name, and you don’t” the god chuckled as he continued to walk, “At least the form you got stuck with seems to be able to move well. I don’t know what I would have to do if you were a limbless worm.”

The god chuckled at the thought as he bent down to look at one such being and pick it up. The worm wriggle in his palm, offended by being lifted out of such nice dirt.

“I don’t suppose you have a name now do you?”

The worm stayed silent.

“No? Could you give me one?”

The worm wriggled a bit more, looking for some nice mud and the god laughed and sent the worm on its way.

“Don’t dally now, Mr. Worm,” the god smiled as he watched the worm squirm its way through the muck, “I’m sure you have places to be so don’t let me hold you up.”

The god watched the worm as it trekked away towards whatever it was heading to, quite intent to stay there until the worm somehow escaped his vision. He was disturbed, however, by the sound of splashing water. The nameless god looked up and peered through the gloomy mist and night to see a figure drudging through the bog about a hundred feet away. They seemed to be wearing large flowing robes which they were trying to hike up above the waterline but were failing. Sopping wet fabric trailed behind them, collecting all kinds of muck and scum as they walked.

Intrigued, the god quickly closed the distance, sitting himself cross legged on a high rock that protruded from the swampy waters. The figure seemed to be completely covered in gray robes, only their hands poking out. They also had a delicately carved stone mask placed over their face. The mask had many beautiful patterns and designs on it with two carved tusks curving like a boar’s out from the stylized mouth. They were also grumbling profusely to themselves.

“-Goddamn mud and the goddamn swamp, getting all up in my goddamn robes!” They scowled, “I swear to Yamat, if they were lying to me and they just sent me into the most goddamn swampy and mosquito-infested part of the Kylsar Islands-”

“So that’s where I am!” The god interjected, interrupting the creature's complaining.

"Holy fuck! Who's there?!" The figure shouted in alarm, stumbling away from the god's rock and falling into the swamp.

"Just me," The god laughed, "No need to worry."

"Who the hell are you!" The figure yelled, half sunken in the swamp, "Is that you Shamal? I can hardly see anything in this damn mist and dark!"

Oh, maybe mortals couldn't see as well as him. Maybe he could make some light? The god clasp his hands together and then spread them apart. A large wooden staff formed between his hands and then he grabbed the top of the stick and pulled. A large iron lantern formed and then swung down below the staff.

"How's this?" The god said as he snapped his fingers, causing the lantern to burst into life.

"By Yamat that's bright!" the person grumbled as they shielded their mask holes with their hand, "But thanks anyways, it's too bloody dark out here."

"Not a problem," The god chuckled.

The figure stood back up, brushing muck of their robes. They gave up with a sigh and let the wet fabric plop back into the swamp.

“You wouldn’t happen to know if- '' The person stopped talking when they looked up at the god, startled a little, “Oh, you’re one of those weird maskless-monkeys from across the sea,” they said with disappointment.

“Am I?” The god responded.

“What kind of dumbass question is that,” they scowled, “You aren’t a Reshut and you certainly don't seem like a god so that’s the only other option. Unless you happen to be a very intelligent rock.”

“Who knows, I just might be,” the god chuckled as he leapt down into the water, splashing the Reshut, “although I don’t think rocks can jump so I may have just disproved that.”

The Reshut eyed him suspiciously before shrugging and starting to trudge through the water again.

“Could you walk with me for a little while? I need the light,” they said plainly.

“Sure,” the god shrugged, he had nothing better to do after all.

The god followed a few paces behind the Reshut as they walked through the thick sludge of the swamp. They didn’t talk as they went and made no real nosie, besides the god occasionally humming to himself. The Reshut would occasionally stop by thickets of swamp weed to rifle through them, looking for something, but each time would give a grunt of disappointment and move one. After about an hour of walking around, the Reshut finally broke and turned to the god.

‘I’m Gashir,” they said out of the blue, not turning to face the god, ‘thanks for the light.”

“Like I said earlier, it isn’t a problem,” the god responded.

“What, you’re not going to tell me your name,” you couldn't see the Reshut’s face but he was raising his eyebrow in that judgey way people sometimes do.

“You didn't ask me for it”

‘Yea, but I gave you mine,” Gashir scowled, “Maybe in monkey land you don’t value courtesy as much but here in the Isles we kinda like to not be dicks to people. Well, strangers. People you know are fair game.”

“That seems a little backwards, don’t you think?” The god chuckled as he sped up to stand side by side with Gashir as they walked.

“Not really,” Gashir shrugged, “With people you are close to you know a whole lot of reasons why it is okay to be a dick to them, with strangers it's not that simple. So we Reshut tend to keep all our hate for close family and friends. Although, sometimes you are the one people are a dick to and you end up lost in the swamps, knee deep in what is probably alligator shit, and talking to a maskless monkey who doesn’t seem to know anything.”

The god laughed at the bitterness in Gashir’s voice. He moved the lantern to rest on his other shoulder and then spoke.

“Am I really that bad to talk to?”

“No, I suppose not…” Gashit sighed, “Although I have never really talked to your kind, only heard you existed. It is really a miracle we can understand each other. There are even some Reshut who speak a different language.”

“Funny how life works like that.”

They lapsed into a silence and plodded along for a while longer. Gashir stopped to check in another patch of scraggly swampweed for whatever it was he was looking for but came up empty handed again.

“What are you even looking for in there?” The god asked.

“Garrick Truffles,” Gashir responded bluntly; he was silent for a little while then decided to elaborate, ‘They are these little fungus things that like to swim around. Really rare but are also a pretty gorgeous color when you polish and carve them, make incredible mask ornaments. They also can only be harvested at night because otherwise they’ll just run away. Gotta catch them while they’re sleeping, you see?”

“How do you know they are even out here?” The god asked as he checked under a nearby patch of grass for some truffles.

“Shamal and Henna had found some last week and they said this was the general area they were,” gashir explained, “although I’m pretty sure they were lying and this is revenge for all that shit did to them last month.”

“If you are so sure they were lying, why did you come out here,” The god surveyed the surrounding area, using his godly vision to confirm that there were no Garrick Truffles or whatever within 20 miles. He did spy an incredibly large patch of them about two swampy islands over.

“Because if they weren’t I can get my hands on some Garrick Truffles!” Gashit exclaimed, “And I’m willing to risk ruining my robes for a chance at getting some!”

“So you are meaning to tell me,” the god said through laughs, “That you are willing to trundle through all sorts of nasty swamps and potential danger in the dead of night, all for the chance at getting something you don’t actually need for survival?”

“Well, yeah” Gashir murmured, slightly offended, “Why wouldn’t I? I really want those Truffles!”

At this, the god couldn’t contain it anymore. He burst out in laughter, doubled over with mirth. Gashir scoffed and threw his hands to his side as he turned away from the god.

“Is something funny?” The Reshut fumed.

“Yes! Absolutely,” The god chortled, wiping away tears, “But in a very endearing sort of way! In fact, I think you’ve made me realize something.”

“And what’s that,” Gashir scowled as he whirled around to face the god.

The god smiled and spun his finger in a circle, causing the world to shift around the two of them without the mortal noticing.

“That there are a bunch of Truffles right behind you.”

‘No there aren’t I just checke-'' Gashir complained as he turned round but instead of the empty swamp that had been there before, there was an entire tree, absolutely covered in Garrick Truffles.

“What in Yamat!” He exclaimed before charging to the tree and tearing his robes to make a makeshift sash to hold them, “How did I miss this! This is the jackpot! I can’t wait to see the look on Shamal and Henna’s faces when I show them all these. It will knock their masks off!”

The god smiled to himself as he watched Gashir begin to hoard the truffles, filling his sash past the brim and struggling to hold all the truffles in his arms.

“I just realized,” the god said, ignoring Gashir’s whoops of joy, “I never did tell you my name.”

“Who the fuck cares about your name!” the Reshut shouted with glee, “Look at all these goddamn truffles. I’ll be rich!”

“Well, if you ever do want to know,” the god kept talking even though Gashir wasn’t listening, “It is Iternis.”

With that, Iternis took a deep breath, finally ready to try shifting forms again, knowing that the Lifeblood wouldn’t try and subsume him. Iternis exploded into a cloud of birds, all flying together into the sky. The act briefly startled Gashir, but he soon got over it and went back to reveling in his new found treasure and forgetting that Iternis had ever been there in the first place.

Iternis chuckled, it would be funny to be there when Gashir realized he wasn’t on the same island he had started his quest for truffles on, but Iternis didn’t feel like staying. There was so much more to do, to see. Maybe he should go back to the Gardens? Or maybe he should try and make some grand creation? He should probably go and find that Maroon god he had followed out of the Lifeblood, maybe thank him for leading the way.

Iternis turned his flock towards the Blood Basin and sang as he flew, happy to be alive.




The Lifeblood





The Manunaki whirled in the hot air above the Lifeblood. Staring at them, it felt something change. Like a damn had been broken. It felt another break coming. Another Break that had already happened. Something was pressing against it hard. Many somethings, really. All pulling in different directions, but one was pushing harder, striving harder to break out. But it needed something from the Lifeblood first. The Lifeblood had to comply.

It swirled down into the caves and began carving at the rock. It had attempted this three times before. The first had been in a frenzy, the fruit promptly destroyed. The Second had been a relative success, but largely passed by. The third had been a disappointment until it was improved. And so on. Now the Lifeblood, driven on by a part within itself, began to craft sentient life once again.

It chiseled the sand stone with great care, like any master craftsman would take when shaping their medium. It started with broad, flat feet which sprouted like seedlings into sturdy calves. The knees connected them to firm thighs. All in all, it was a pair of legs that could run, climb, and survive with grace and ease. The Lifeblood stepped back, looking at the tawney legs, pausing before crafting the groin. Inspiration struck and it poured itself back into its work.

The Lifeblood tore sprigs from the glowing bushes of the Underground and began to weave them into the stone as the Lifeblood gave its creation a hardy trunk to hold itself proud and high. The broad, strong shoulders were next which were donned with the bright flowers that called the tunnels home.

A few Manunaki gathered to watch as the Lifeblood blew away the sandstone to reveal graceful arms, strong but thin: perfect for both climbing tall chasms and foraging through crevices. The glowing vines wrapped these new appendages and the Lifeblood began on the final part.

The face was crafted with great care, smooth round features with large, starry eyes. For the hair, the long flowing locks were topped with the same bright feathers that the Manunaki bore.

Looking back from the first of the creations, the thing writhing in the Lifeblood was satisfied. With a blast, thousands more of these statues broke from the sandstone. With a wave, the statues became gendered and the many glowing plants sunk into the stone, becoming spots of glowing pigment that created beautiful tapestries on their backs, shoulders and arms.

The Lifeblood smiled and in an instant, light shone throughout the caves and the statues fell to their knees. The Alminaki, the newest race of men, shuddered into life. Their large intelligent eyes glanced around their surroundings and laughter rang through the caverns, joy at simply existing.

Soon, however, their eyes turned upwards, at the large cliffs that seperated the tunnels they were born in and the outside world. The first and bravest, a small girl, her skin the same color as the stone she had been made from, ran with glee towards the walls and began scaling then.
They all looked at the spots of blue sky and felt a longing, a desire. They needed to see the world and they could hardly sit still.

And that was what it took.

The Lifeblood shook itself violently, all the yearning of the new life, straining upwards to the light, caused forces within it to strain upwards with just as much might. The Lifeblood shuddered one last time before it broke.




The Lifeblood





Bright, blistering beams of sun fell down like rods thrust from the heavens onto the barren land. Although the Lifeblood couldn’t feel it, the heat in the air was oppressive nonetheless. Such a desolate land that had sprung up on the continent, so unlike all the soft places that had come before. The only places more viscous the Lifeblood itself had made, in a frenzy which had soon cooled. This place, surrounded by the grand creations of the Boar, was not ferocious or angry, but it was still harsh. The air shimmered in the sky and water fled as wind that failed to cool spiraled ever upwards into the large thermals that dotted the landscape.

Here, the loving Sun One’s blessings were brutal trials and her departure would swing the scale towards another extreme, one of frigid darkness. There was something enchanting about the whole thing, even if the Lifeblood was immune to being enchanted. The vast swirls of sandstone and harder granite seemed to call out to be filled. So it complied.

It started as it always did: small. The parched land was a challenge to craft for, as the ingredient that all creatures the Lifeblood had made before was so lacking, so it had to get creative. Under its guidance, a single dark green shoot broke through the ground. Thin and waxy, it was insulated from the heat. Instead of leaves or flowers, this new plant had nothing save a single bud at its tip, no longer than four inches and as wide around as a finger. The thing looked sad and small, barely like life, but the Lifeblood knew it could survive. Inside the small bud, it began working the finer details. Thread connected to thread and tendril wrapped around tendril, the lifeblood worked deep inside the bud, past moonrise and through the icy night. Before the next dawn broke, at the darkest part of the night, the Lifeblood finished.

In that darkest night, the bud exploded open. A fine tapestry of silver filament rolled out into the cool air, large and more intricate than any spider web, the shimmering silk spewed like a fountain from the measly stalk it came from, hanging in the air, prime to catch enough dew to sustain a plant thrice its size. As the sun rose, just before the morning dew could even think of burning off, the cascade was retracted. Rolling back into the bud, now distended with water. The Morning Silk began to move its liquid bounty towards its roots and the Lifeblood knew, it would be possible.

With a pulse, Morning Silk sprouted in all the places that could sustain it, in some places the buds were able to grow as tall as a man with whit canopies that touched the ground around them, but not all were so lucky. Regardless, the dark green buds add only the smallest amount of color to the red lands. Next, the Lifeblood made the hardiest grass it could, scraggly and grey but fierce and determined. Then it made olive-colored vines that crept across the ground, hiding their water in rock crevices and behind tough, brambly thickets. Small herbs, thin and waifish, that could only grow in caves and dark places, saving all their water and energy for a few precious minutes of sun at a specific time of day, making just enough energy to last another set of hours.

The land was still barren, sure, if you failed to look and see the boiling fungus, feeding on the iron in the rocks or the plants without roots that caught the wind in their single broad leaf as they roamed the desert in search of what they needed. So now the Lifeblood could go bigger.

It started with the bugs: the hard-shelled beetles that scurried through the sand and the buzzing flies that flew above it, the swarming ants and the lazy grubs. It made the small moths that lived and laid their eggs in the bulbs of the Morning Silk, only to come out for that short time before dawn. It also made the bulbous green bug that rested on the tips of plants, sending out smells and offering a single tassel of silver, beckoning any unwitting prey to fly to close, expecting a taste of water and getting a swift end. It made the flat, ten-legged crawler that carried all its water hanging under its belly and the savage wasps that carry them off to their hive, helplessly kept as a water tank until they become an incubator.

It made the toxic scorpions who used their brutal pincers and deadly sting to protect the tiny frogs, no bigger than a kernel of corn, all because the frogs could always find the secret stores of water the scorpion needs to lay its eggs. Next it made the hot-footed gecko that dashed across the broiling ground during the day and its cousin, the cold-hearted lizard which slunk in to devour the geckos at night. It made the foul snakes that could kill with a bite and the other ones who can’t but try and play the part anyways. It made the legless lizard that tried to look like the vines and the ones that could leap from rocks and soar the thermals.

It made the warrens of mice that had a queen and the clouds of bats that had no colony. Three kinds of birds, two kinds of rabbit, and a single fox with ears bigger than its head were all the Lifeblood could make bigger than that.

Without doing something new, that is.

If the Lifeblood were like one of the gods that had shattered from it, one with a sense of flair, it would have puffed out its chest, taking in an enormous breath and, using its hands as a funnel, released an enormous gust of wind in the shape of a spear, something to dramatically carve away at the earth. But, the Lifeblood was not a god, just a force, albeit one of many boiling spirits waiting to break out. So it just released energy into the sandstone to get it’s job done.

Mimicking how it had made caves earlier, but this time using air, the Lifeblood tore into the stone land. Filling with all manner of tunnels and caverns and pits, all weathered smooth by the elements. A constant breeze blew through the cave system, generated by the vast difference in temperature between the underground and the air. This difference not only created the cycling of air, but also great updrafts around the deep vertical shafts that were the entrances to these catacombs beneath the desert.

Before it got to the main event, the Lifeblood got to work populating these new sandstone tunnels. This side of the land was much cooler, meaning it could be damper. Not wet, mind you, but far from the painfully dry above world. The walls began to teem with new plant life under the Lifeblood’s influence. Strange bushes grew that coated the walls of the tunnels with leaves that spiraled out in a fractal and glowed a faint green as well as flowering grasses that blinked in the pale darkness, attracting the flitting, flickering fire flies that dwelled in the depths to pollinate them. The Lifeblood also made small, furry animals with long bushy tails and enormous eyes that glinted in the dark to run around eating the fruits of the small cave shrubs and whatever may fall into the chasms.

Now that the preamble had been done, the Lifeblood began to craft a beautiful thing. It took a shape that it had seen before, a graceful winged beast, smooth and elegant. The Lifeblood lightened it and rolled it out, like a baker kneading bread. It covered the smooth underside of the wings with hard bristles that could sand stone and grip hard to the ground. It gave the new creature two long frill-shaped whiskers rolling off its brow, like antennae or lavender ribbons, that could brush the ceiling of the tunnels and sense the slightest movements through the air or electricity. The animal’s color blushed as it lost the blacks and blues of its ocean cousin and turned a sandy yellow, bio-luminescent red motts flecked across its broad back. The Lifeblood gave it a thick tail, capped in a plume of colorful feathers that would act like rudder through the air.

The Lifeblood breathed the final spark of life into the new creature and the first of the Manunaki, the Desert Mantas, took flight out of the caves that would be their home, riding the updraft to soar high into the sky, quickly followed by many others of its kind. The graceful beasts wheeled in the air, singing deep songs that resonated through the air and echoed through the rocks. There in the sky they would gather water from the air using the many bristles along their underbellies which would be pushed along grooves in their body by the motions of flight to be collected in their mandibles. When the Manunaki return to their roosts in the caves, they’ll bring all the precious water and sky energy that makes the subterranean life possible.

Thus, the Lifeblood created two worlds in the almost barren red desert with the Manunaki as the bridge. But sitting there, watching the Mantas dance freely in the sky, another twinge shook its core. It was the same twinge that had resounded watching the very first birds. The twinge continued to throb inside of the Lifeblood, and it suddenly became aware of all the voices swirling around inside itself, growing stronger and trying to exert their will on the Lifeblood’s actions. For now, it was together, but the Lifeblood knew it would not be forever…




The Lifeblood





The Lifeblood rested in the mountains of the Stone One. All around it the embryos the Boar had released as it had plummeted from the Moon One's home were writhing and growing in the dirt. This life, powerful life, was wholly foreighn to it. Despite the fact that the Stone One had burst from the Lifeblood, its moving creations had a certain air to them that the Lifeblood’s lacked. As it watched the growing and changing embryos, a familiar sight came flapping on the winds, one of its own creations.

A single bird, plumage as red as magma, had found its way deep into the Stone One’s Mountains. It chirped a few times and went to work searching for food. The Lifeblood sent it’s force into the stone ground, causing new plants to spring up and grow, fat roots topped with purple flowers that cracked the stone as they grew and hardy ferns that clasped tightly to the sheer faces of the mountains. The bird called out in pleasure and flapped towards the nearest root and began pecking at it for food.

The Lifeblood watched its creation thrive for just a few moments, but in an instant, something changed. There was a terrified squawk and a flurry of gnashing teeth and flying feathers. Some beast spawned from the Boar’s descent had lept out in an instant and devoured the red bird, destroying it and moving on in an instant.

Why this stood out to the Lifeblood as a problem, it did not know. This was simply another event in a series of events, but some twinge deep inside it urged it to do something.

The Lifeblood took a boulder from the mountain side and began carving it. It shaped a form similar to the creation that had just been destroyed but far stronger. And larger. This new bird stood firmly on the ground, two thick, powerful legs holding its proud body high. The legs ended in large, crushing talons, strong enough to toss boulders aside and carry the beast at incredible speeds. Its beak, unlike its cousins, was broad and made for crushing and digging.

The new great beast stood proud and strong, ready to fight and survive anything the Mountains of the Stone One could throw at it. Being able to climb any cliff and overturn any rock to find the nutritious roots and small critters that would feed it. But, as equipt as it was, this new creature had lost the essence that inspired it. It was a creature of stone, not of leaves.

The Lifeblood looked at this new almost-bird and decided it could give it more. From the stone it carved more of these creatures, binding them together in their own kind of flock, one of the ground. It gave to them a certain intelligence, not sapience nor true wisdom, but the kind of brain that could truly be social and form bonds. Lastly, it painted the crests of these birds a vibrant red in honor of the single being that spurred their creation.

With a caw, the first of the great Stone Birds lead its flock away from the Lifeblood, the beat of their talons against the ground resounding and sending the previous rulers of the mountainside scrambling away.

The Lifeblood no longer felt that twinge inside itself and looked upon the sight with nothing but objectivity and took back to the skies. The world was still being filled.




The Lifeblood





The Lifeblood paused in the darker land, surrounded by the imitations of the Vegetation One it itself had created. It could feel itself burbling, there was so much more inside of it that could break out, form into another power. But not now.

For now, it was stable. Stable enough to create more.

The invisible power swept back over the land, crossing the large mountains the Stone One had made and back and into large boughs of the Vegetation One.

They shook slightly as the Lifeblood's force breezed into the branches, casting thousands of leaves from their perches. The force watched the small things as they fell.

Spiraling. Swirling. Flittering. Fluttering.

Flying.

The Lifeblood released a shock of energy, shaking the great canopy of the Vegetation One. This time, as the broad leaves broke from their twigs, they were propelled up high into the sky, a swirling cyclone of green. Then, following the guide set by the Ocean One, the Lifeblood once again poured its capacity for life into the world, but this time for something more than plants. The leaves knit themselves together, changing colors and gaining mass. A great cacophony filled the air as a new creature was crafted, one that could swim through the sky as easily as the Ocean One’s plankton could swim through water. One adorned with its own special kind of leaves, feathers. And so the first cloud of birds exploded in a flock, swarming away from the Vegetation One, singing and cawing as they began their journey to who knows where.

As the Lifeblood watched its newest creations fly away from it, heading somewhere but also nowhere at all, it felt itself tug slightly, as a power still too weak and unformed was trying to break off. It didn’t have time for that. It didn’t have time for anything: there was still creation to be done.







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