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Antiquity was a breath of cool air that washed over Haerthus as he entered into the sacred realm. Deep within his bones he sensed an air of reverence for the sanctity of its unspoken laws. Newborn as he was, Haerthus knew immediately that whatever he did here in the presence of others such as him, would reflect on his future working relationships.
He blinked, catching in the new environment: Antiquity was a colliseum of a familiar and comforting architecture. He stepped into the realm, a whirlpool of emotions bubbling within his chest.
Did he announce himself? Was his presence sensed by those who already lounged within the room?
Scarcely seconds had passed, and Haerthus already wanted to return to Ardherum and lock the realm away for good.
One could say he dreaded- nay, hated the thought of socializing with a bunch of gods. Somehow he felt as though royal titles would mean very little to them, especially when he factored in that he was, after all, only the God of Hate.
Only so much he could do within his domain of power, but he had to find out just exactly where his reach lay.
And- sigh - that meant he had to strike up a conversation.
But as it turned out, he wasn’t the first one to speak to him- a booming voice erupted in his ear drums. “ATTENTION FELLOW GODS!”
Haerthus did not enjoy his first divine interaction. “What if I told you there was a way to interact more closely with the world? All you need to do is bind a small piece of your soul to another form, and send that form to Galbar. It will be able to pass through without interference from the Lifeblood, walk the world, and perform divine actions on your behalf. You can thank Gibbou for this trick. Oh, and if you haven’t set foot outside your realm’s portal yet, please do; it’s perfectly safe! That will be all!”
He had already set foot out from his unnamed realm, but his ears perked at the idea of the thought of intervention on Galbar. Divine representation sounded like a wonderful idea- it left the tedium of work towards the likes of servants, leaving Haerthus to do whatever he wanted. He just needed to find what exactly that was as the God of Hate, but he was sure he would find something to do.
He already knew he disliked having loud noises screeching in his ears, helpful as the information was. He looked around the realm, looking for the owner of the voice- he needed to mince words with the rapscallion. As his vision cleared he began to spot more and more entities gathering within the confines of Antiquity- most were aptly formed, the rest were beings who chose to remain cryptic as to their domain. What drew his attention further was how they craned their neck upwards and pointed at various things on the ceiling.
Haerthus paused his first crusade of noise complaint and looked upwards. Galbar, to its fullest extent.
After a minute of taking in the sights, he developed a crick in the neck, and already began to hate its placement.
Why couldn’t it be placed on the floor? Aren’t gods above mortal worlds? His own private thoughts - he shuddered to think if this realm made all thoughts public - hung with irritation and frustration. If the realm supported his own powers of creation, the first thing he would create was not an Avatar of himself, but a reclining chair.
This was all very frustrating, even more so when he realized how completely side-tracked he was from his original quest. It all made him positively angry, and the embers swirling around him flared.
Restraint.
He clenched his jaw. For now.
“Oh, hello there!” the God who had delivered the announcement piped, apparently having approached during the Hate God’s internal machinations. “I haven’t seen you before. Who would you be?”
Haerthus gazed upon a tall god in the form of a man who seemed more lifelike than the sum of his environments. Although he himself was not casting an aura of radiance, Haerthus had the initial impression that this was a person who would spend an hour fussing over minute details in his own creations. In contrast, he was reminded how slap-dashed his realm was created. Once the glow dissipated in his eyes, Haerthus made one very important judgement:
He no longer disliked this unnamed god. He despised him for daring to be greater than. . .than. . . Haerthus paused. Daring to be greater than whatever made us, he thought.
“Haerthus.” He chewed on air, thinking how best to proceed. He didn’t exactly want to make enemies immediately, not when he was still at a stage where his own lack of information crippled him more than his own lack of experience. Yet he didn’t exactly want to be too close to the person, so-
“God of Hate, from the realm of-” He took a look at his surroundings and frowned. “-Ardherum. Meaning ‘Land to Suffer Within’, in a language which I totally did not just make up.”
He cleared his throat and gestured towards the figure. “And you are?”
“Cadien, God of Perfection,” the white-haired god introduced himself, his smile fading somewhat. “I suppose this is all rather surprising, isn’t it?”
”Surprisingly rude to be suddenly birthed into existence without my prior consent.” Haerthus pointed towards Galbar. ”I get that we’re supposed to guide these mortals but exactly who gave us this job?”
Cadien shrugged. “Well, nobody did. We gave it to ourselves, I suppose.”
He stared at Cadien silently. When he next spoke, he did so slowly, clearly and with a very pained drawl. “Am I to believe that we have been simply born out of nothing to play with a world?”
“A world that, I presume was made because it simply wanted to?”
“I was not present when the world was made,” Cadien said, furrowing his brow. “So I can’t say exactly where it came from. Anyhow, did you say you had only just been born into existence recently?”
He was halfway inclined to scream it out, but Haerthus didn’t have the heart for it. All he wanted to do now was sit, stare blankly into space and maybe scream for an indefinite amount of time.
He wasn’t against the idea of ruling subjects or toying with them, whatever his heart desired. Yet if he had no goal, no defined guidelines beyond ‘as your heart desired’ then it took the fun out of everything. Was he that rebellious for a newborn?
Haerthus paused.
No. He just didn’t like being chained against his will, and needed an excuse to be angry at something, someone.
Frankly, this trip into Antiquity had been a very fruitful journey of self discovery. “I don’t know what constituted ‘recent’: I only know I was born when I wasn’t.”
“Hmm… I can’t say that makes a lot of sense, truth be told,” Cadien shrugged again. “Anyhow, you mean to tell me you never set foot on Galbar?”
”No? I have only seen it through the eyes of mortals and visions.” He tasted bile at the tip of his tongue. “Has everyone been galavanting around in Galbar while I was stuck as a swirling mass?” His body trembled with barely perceptible suppressed anger.
Cadien scratched the back of his head. “Well, I don’t know what your time in the Lifeblood was like, but there used to be a time when we were all allowed to walk on Galbar. Then, for some reason the Lifeblood decided to confine us all into realms, where we couldn’t interact with the world - not directly, anyway. Some claimed it lasted about two thousand years, but it didn’t feel that way for me - a few hundred, at most. Anyhow, then this place appeared, and although we still can’t set foot on Galbar, we’re all back in touch with each other now.”
”I see.”
Haerthus looked up at Galbar and reached out longingly with his arm, but dropped it to his side limply. ”I don’t suppose we can shift that viewing port from the ceiling to the floor? You know, so that a God of Chiropractic isn’t born from the- Lifeblood?” He looked back at Cadien, hesitant. “I don’t suppose the Lifeblood is sentient, right?”
At least he could find wherever the source was and spent the rest of his foreseable future screaming at it.
“The Lifeblood does seem to possess some intelligence, yes,” Cadien nodded, before glancing upward at the image of Galbar in the sky. “Although… I don’t know if we could put that on the floor. What would that even look like? Besides, this place seems resistant to all but the smallest attempts to manipulate it,” the God of Perfection shrugged yet again. “I suppose you could always just lie on your back to look at it.”
Haerthus raised a nose to that suggestion. ”And get myself covered in dust and dirt? No thanks, but thank you anyway. I don’t suppose I could drag furniture through my realm’s gate?”
“I’m sure you could,” Cadien nodded, looking to the noticeboard created by Artifex, and then the hammock set up by Illyd Dyll. “Just uh… it’s a shared space, so don’t clutter it up too much, alright?”
”Good.” He turned towards Ardherum’s gates, now with some semblance of intent, but then remembered his manners. ”I thank you for your help, but if you excuse me, I- have a strong need to return to my realm and perhaps scream for a short, sweet while.”
He paused and flourished a meaningless gesture with his smoky fingers. “You know, for stress relief.”
“Hm. I’m not sure that’s healthy, but I suppose it’s your choice. Don’t forget to create an avatar. You did hear my message, I hope?”
Haerthus nodded silently, feeling sick, tired and more importantly, very displeased about the current state of things. It was a very productive trip through Antiquity, even if he felt he was better off not learning how things truly are. ”I am Haerthus.” he reminded Cadien one last time before he took another step into Ardherum.
”And I have already begun to realize how many things there are to hate. Good day.”
He blinked, catching in the new environment: Antiquity was a colliseum of a familiar and comforting architecture. He stepped into the realm, a whirlpool of emotions bubbling within his chest.
Did he announce himself? Was his presence sensed by those who already lounged within the room?
Scarcely seconds had passed, and Haerthus already wanted to return to Ardherum and lock the realm away for good.
One could say he dreaded- nay, hated the thought of socializing with a bunch of gods. Somehow he felt as though royal titles would mean very little to them, especially when he factored in that he was, after all, only the God of Hate.
Only so much he could do within his domain of power, but he had to find out just exactly where his reach lay.
And- sigh - that meant he had to strike up a conversation.
But as it turned out, he wasn’t the first one to speak to him- a booming voice erupted in his ear drums. “ATTENTION FELLOW GODS!”
Haerthus did not enjoy his first divine interaction. “What if I told you there was a way to interact more closely with the world? All you need to do is bind a small piece of your soul to another form, and send that form to Galbar. It will be able to pass through without interference from the Lifeblood, walk the world, and perform divine actions on your behalf. You can thank Gibbou for this trick. Oh, and if you haven’t set foot outside your realm’s portal yet, please do; it’s perfectly safe! That will be all!”
He had already set foot out from his unnamed realm, but his ears perked at the idea of the thought of intervention on Galbar. Divine representation sounded like a wonderful idea- it left the tedium of work towards the likes of servants, leaving Haerthus to do whatever he wanted. He just needed to find what exactly that was as the God of Hate, but he was sure he would find something to do.
He already knew he disliked having loud noises screeching in his ears, helpful as the information was. He looked around the realm, looking for the owner of the voice- he needed to mince words with the rapscallion. As his vision cleared he began to spot more and more entities gathering within the confines of Antiquity- most were aptly formed, the rest were beings who chose to remain cryptic as to their domain. What drew his attention further was how they craned their neck upwards and pointed at various things on the ceiling.
Haerthus paused his first crusade of noise complaint and looked upwards. Galbar, to its fullest extent.
After a minute of taking in the sights, he developed a crick in the neck, and already began to hate its placement.
Why couldn’t it be placed on the floor? Aren’t gods above mortal worlds? His own private thoughts - he shuddered to think if this realm made all thoughts public - hung with irritation and frustration. If the realm supported his own powers of creation, the first thing he would create was not an Avatar of himself, but a reclining chair.
This was all very frustrating, even more so when he realized how completely side-tracked he was from his original quest. It all made him positively angry, and the embers swirling around him flared.
Restraint.
He clenched his jaw. For now.
“Oh, hello there!” the God who had delivered the announcement piped, apparently having approached during the Hate God’s internal machinations. “I haven’t seen you before. Who would you be?”
Haerthus gazed upon a tall god in the form of a man who seemed more lifelike than the sum of his environments. Although he himself was not casting an aura of radiance, Haerthus had the initial impression that this was a person who would spend an hour fussing over minute details in his own creations. In contrast, he was reminded how slap-dashed his realm was created. Once the glow dissipated in his eyes, Haerthus made one very important judgement:
He no longer disliked this unnamed god. He despised him for daring to be greater than. . .than. . . Haerthus paused. Daring to be greater than whatever made us, he thought.
“Haerthus.” He chewed on air, thinking how best to proceed. He didn’t exactly want to make enemies immediately, not when he was still at a stage where his own lack of information crippled him more than his own lack of experience. Yet he didn’t exactly want to be too close to the person, so-
“God of Hate, from the realm of-” He took a look at his surroundings and frowned. “-Ardherum. Meaning ‘Land to Suffer Within’, in a language which I totally did not just make up.”
He cleared his throat and gestured towards the figure. “And you are?”
“Cadien, God of Perfection,” the white-haired god introduced himself, his smile fading somewhat. “I suppose this is all rather surprising, isn’t it?”
”Surprisingly rude to be suddenly birthed into existence without my prior consent.” Haerthus pointed towards Galbar. ”I get that we’re supposed to guide these mortals but exactly who gave us this job?”
Cadien shrugged. “Well, nobody did. We gave it to ourselves, I suppose.”
He stared at Cadien silently. When he next spoke, he did so slowly, clearly and with a very pained drawl. “Am I to believe that we have been simply born out of nothing to play with a world?”
“A world that, I presume was made because it simply wanted to?”
“I was not present when the world was made,” Cadien said, furrowing his brow. “So I can’t say exactly where it came from. Anyhow, did you say you had only just been born into existence recently?”
He was halfway inclined to scream it out, but Haerthus didn’t have the heart for it. All he wanted to do now was sit, stare blankly into space and maybe scream for an indefinite amount of time.
He wasn’t against the idea of ruling subjects or toying with them, whatever his heart desired. Yet if he had no goal, no defined guidelines beyond ‘as your heart desired’ then it took the fun out of everything. Was he that rebellious for a newborn?
Haerthus paused.
No. He just didn’t like being chained against his will, and needed an excuse to be angry at something, someone.
Frankly, this trip into Antiquity had been a very fruitful journey of self discovery. “I don’t know what constituted ‘recent’: I only know I was born when I wasn’t.”
“Hmm… I can’t say that makes a lot of sense, truth be told,” Cadien shrugged again. “Anyhow, you mean to tell me you never set foot on Galbar?”
”No? I have only seen it through the eyes of mortals and visions.” He tasted bile at the tip of his tongue. “Has everyone been galavanting around in Galbar while I was stuck as a swirling mass?” His body trembled with barely perceptible suppressed anger.
Cadien scratched the back of his head. “Well, I don’t know what your time in the Lifeblood was like, but there used to be a time when we were all allowed to walk on Galbar. Then, for some reason the Lifeblood decided to confine us all into realms, where we couldn’t interact with the world - not directly, anyway. Some claimed it lasted about two thousand years, but it didn’t feel that way for me - a few hundred, at most. Anyhow, then this place appeared, and although we still can’t set foot on Galbar, we’re all back in touch with each other now.”
”I see.”
Haerthus looked up at Galbar and reached out longingly with his arm, but dropped it to his side limply. ”I don’t suppose we can shift that viewing port from the ceiling to the floor? You know, so that a God of Chiropractic isn’t born from the- Lifeblood?” He looked back at Cadien, hesitant. “I don’t suppose the Lifeblood is sentient, right?”
At least he could find wherever the source was and spent the rest of his foreseable future screaming at it.
“The Lifeblood does seem to possess some intelligence, yes,” Cadien nodded, before glancing upward at the image of Galbar in the sky. “Although… I don’t know if we could put that on the floor. What would that even look like? Besides, this place seems resistant to all but the smallest attempts to manipulate it,” the God of Perfection shrugged yet again. “I suppose you could always just lie on your back to look at it.”
Haerthus raised a nose to that suggestion. ”And get myself covered in dust and dirt? No thanks, but thank you anyway. I don’t suppose I could drag furniture through my realm’s gate?”
“I’m sure you could,” Cadien nodded, looking to the noticeboard created by Artifex, and then the hammock set up by Illyd Dyll. “Just uh… it’s a shared space, so don’t clutter it up too much, alright?”
”Good.” He turned towards Ardherum’s gates, now with some semblance of intent, but then remembered his manners. ”I thank you for your help, but if you excuse me, I- have a strong need to return to my realm and perhaps scream for a short, sweet while.”
He paused and flourished a meaningless gesture with his smoky fingers. “You know, for stress relief.”
“Hm. I’m not sure that’s healthy, but I suppose it’s your choice. Don’t forget to create an avatar. You did hear my message, I hope?”
Haerthus nodded silently, feeling sick, tired and more importantly, very displeased about the current state of things. It was a very productive trip through Antiquity, even if he felt he was better off not learning how things truly are. ”I am Haerthus.” he reminded Cadien one last time before he took another step into Ardherum.
”And I have already begun to realize how many things there are to hate. Good day.”
