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About This Game

Lords of Creation is a semi-freeform game of divine beings—gods, spirits, tempters, and more—as they build up a world and interact. Players take the role of both the Gods that shape and create the world as well as the mortals that inhabit it. Owing to its roots as a Play by Post game, time is fluid, allowing Players to cover large spans of time, building civilizations and watching them crumble all while the Gods and Divinities watch on as if only a day or two had passed. Lords of Creation (LoC) is a game about myth and legend, the focus less on heavy rules and more on the narrative between the Players, their Flocks and the world at large.

Game System




Detailed Description

Build a world with a number of other players!

We are always recruiting to look over the rules and if your interested join in and submit a character of your own! The rules can be found here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1yzIN2cyC7ykYnuMU8sE7BRXR4-BzTNPBruMQNOcbTu4/edit?usp=sharing

Current Moderators are: AlexanderML, Athedia, and Fuzzy Math

  1. What's new in this game
  2. X'll'll A second divine spark hid within the Twisting Caverns, a divine being of many legs and many offers. X’ll’ll sensed the presence only weakly, as it was far from where it labored on a cathedral of stone and spires, one so deep within the rock that it would never be visited by any mortal creature. Its presence, its form, seemed clever. Useful. WIth so many limbs a great many things could be accomplished. A pause in the construction, as X’ll’ll observed the newly anointed Ananwe go forth and teach the concept of trade. An interesting concept. Perhaps the divine spark would be interested as well. X’ll’ll paused, drawing forth two new creatures with this new template in mind. One, a mollusk, an octopus-like creature with eight limbs, covered in hard color-changing plates and containing within its abdomen a powerful acid capable of melting stone with exacting precision. The second creature hewed closer to the original template than the first – enormous carnivorous shadowy spiders, pitch black in a way that absorbed light. In their core, a shimmering layered pearl containing stored light. Of the second, X’ll’ll took a particularly impressive specimen and sent it towards the divine presence, along with a message. [TRADE? ALLIES?] —- Unacceptable. X’ll’ll stands in the ruins of what was once a carefully crafted tunnel. A crack of stone runs the length of the tunnel, and magma softly burbles, dissolving carefully crafted stone into a mess of jagged rocks and half-melted magma. [ANGER. DESTRUCTION.] Who would dare? X’ll’ll sensed the hand of two distinct unknown divine sparks, though they had not been acting in concert. The first had created the shifting stones, and the second had created…something in the depths. Something that had stretched up tendrils through the cracks and coated them with oozing nutrients and secretions. X’ll’ll sealed the tunnel, but there was uncounted more cracked tunnels. And something else, a distorted reflection of the tunnels, made by a being with no understanding of Chthonic architecture, twisted and devoid of meaning. The reflection was hidden, layered behind a door. Angered, X’ll’ll focused its will, and turned fourty of its uncountable eyes to stare into each others’ depths, an infinite self reflection. It fell into the Mirror Plane, and reached out, pulling on the very conceptual framework of the Mirror Plane. The Plane creaked and groaned, resisting with the influence of two divine sparks before giving in with a sound like shattering glass, as the reflection of X”ll’ll’s tunnels were ripped from its very make-up. In their absence remained only void, pure empty paths without distorted meaning. Only those with the strongest sense of self would be able to walk these paths without their very existence being scoured by the cleansing void. This was cleaner. No distorted meaning. No tunnels disconnected from the Chthonic source. The Grand Design was once more clean of entanglements on this Plane. Returning to the first Plane, however, X’ll’ll found their work far from done. Broken tunnels littered the Twisted Caverns, shattered cathedrals of stone rent by tectonic forces. The Great Design needed more helpers. More builders. X’ll’ll reached out to one of the mollusks within the Twisted Caverns and Blessed it, granting it larger size, strength, and flexibility along with the power to store the stone it dissolved and restore it to its rightful location. These beings would be its hands as they worked to mend the Grand Design. AP Actions2 AP Create Race – Syrathine: These omnivorous monsters are octopus-like mollusks with eight limbs, covered in hardened color-changing plates of aragonite minerals. The color of the plates can be varied to better hide itself like a chameleon, and to mask the heat signature of the Syrathine. It contains two sacks within its abdomen, one containing a powerful acid capable of melting stone with exacting precision, and the second a slurry of melted stone which it can reconstitute to carefully sculpt Chthonic architecture with precision. They are intelligent but largely solitary and a disproportionate number of them display single minded focus on repairing the Chthonic architecture. They largely eat mushrooms, worms, and other detritus within the caverns but have been known to attack solo travelers when hungry or desperate. Reality (Delusion) 6/10 1 AP Bless Race – Syrathine: This blessing grants the Syrathine the second sack described in the race description (added there for clarity) Alchemy (Gemstones) 1 AP Create Monster – Pearlspinners: Enormous carnivorous shadowy spiders, pitch black in a way that absorbed light. In their core, a shimmering layered pearl containing stored light. The pearl can be used as a light source for up to a week, depending on the size of the stone and the age of the Pearlspinner. Even after the light fades, the pearls retain a natural luminosity similar to that of mother of pearl. Purity (Void) 1/10 1 AP Create Plane (Mirror Plane, shared with Ixzipixi and the Crimson Fount): The divine energies released by X’ll’ll in his rage (see below) complete the Mirror Plane. Purity(Void) 2/10 1 AP Alter Land (The Void Paths): In a rage, X’ll’ll rips the Mirror-version of the tunnels out from the Mirror Plane, both completing and damaging the Mirror Plane. A series of Void Paths snake through the Mirror Plane. Those who step within are subjected to the Void, rapidly losing their form, mind, and reason. Only those of sufficiently sound mind (or of unnaturally strong sense of self, such as the Fey) may traverse them, but time stretches out differently within the paths, allowing creatures traveling them to move at incredible speeds. Purity (Void) 3/10 AP 7 → 2
  3. Kuigiio, The Maker Freespinner rode on... Many times they passed wandering tribes of Weavers that wandered and gathered. Many times, they passed roving pods of 2-2-X's, crude, proud Warriors in the form of self-propelled Travois that hunted and roamed. "Maker, they know the way, but cannot follow." "Yes, my daughter." "It isn't right. We should help them." "What would you do for them?" Kuigiio pondered as they rode... He thought back to the quipu he tied in his memory, the stolid camels of the hinterlands. "Freespinner, do you see the little beasts that live in the between spaces? I remember something about them. You and they will be friends, up the road. They introduced you to those folk who walk, and, together, we were a mighty caravan, in the memory I foresee... "I gave you a tool. Use it, if you think it is right..." --- The tribe had reached the Glyph. One of the Fast Folk put it there, to warn of the horrible trees. The Tribe turned away when they saw that sign. They thanked the Fast Folk, who taught them the signs. Once, they raised their own sign and painted a glyph to warn the Tribes and the Fast Folk of a Krokotyran who moved into an oasis that had been safe. A Fast One had thanked them with pieces of the nacreous booty when his band came to clear the danger. "The Woven Road has two threads." Said the Shaman as she bowed to the Warrior. The Warrior unbent from the strange rolling form, not gleaming and alien like the lone Fast One that passed them every few years, but one of wood and dried Whiteblood and cord, a sled to carry things. "The Road Woven are as twine." That was three days ago. Saywa always walked all the way to the sign, touched it. It was why he was given that use-name. The alpaca was trapped by a copse of Whiteblood Figs that had come to horrible life! This far ahead of the Tribe, which had already turned back, no one else could see. She had twin crias! They screamed! Something burnt in the chest of Saywa. He grabbed a rock and charged the trees! It was flat and sharp! Saywa slashed at the Whitebloods. They flinched. He grabbed the crias and ran. He locked his eyes to the sideways glance of the doomed mother... "I'll keep them safe" he vowed. ---- That night, Saywa took the rock he grabbed and made it into the First Axe. The two doe crias nestled at his fire. "Your name is Firestrike... you will control the trees. They will serve us or die, and these girls will have their revenge." AP actions 2 AP- Raise Hero: Saywa The legendary First Lumberjack, who domesticated the Alpaca and carved safe passage through the Whiteblood forest. Weirder of Firestrike 5-1-1, a Tsukumogami in the form of an axe. Nature (Conflict) 2/10 Artifact Use- create mundane concept: pack animals. The Alpaca is the first camelid domesticated by the Road Woven to help nomadic Weavers travel better. The Llama will follow, in time. 2 AP- Create advanced concept: Forestry Trees have many uses, but their extremely long lives and huge, terrain shaping size mean that raising or clearing them systematically is a science rarely discovered by many societies, and that is before the added complication of some of them animating themselves and attacking! Nature (Conflict) 4/10
  4. The Fruit of Other Trees Sim-Hazat calmly watched below Ywain as he demonstrated his new inventions to his flock. A face resembling Ywain's own helmet emerged from the clouds, as a tendril caught the smoke rising from the early fires. Resembling a cloud, yet far from it. "It reminds me of the ash clouds from the peaks of Xill-Hazat, kin. I shall need to share these ideas with my people. They struggle to travel far, and many perish before they reach other lands. Rest assured, I will find craft of my own to spread among these fleeting people, in time." The cloud that was Sim-Hazat dissipated as he turned his attention outward once more, reappearing above a placid are of the sea. Already, he was riding a wind towards Xill-Hazat, contemplating the best ways to share his knowledge with the sealkies - and spur them to uncover more. --- The cloudwatchers had already predicted the approach of the minor storm, interpreting the wavering and flashing of the Beacon with acumen. O'Taoma had speared a fish with a forked, sharpened branch - one of the flat ones with a barb upon its tail. He danced away as it lashed at him in its death throes. He regarded the dying fish with a mote of pity. Its skin was tough. The Weavers would likely be able to make something wondrous from it. If only he knew how to seperate it from the flesh... BOOM He nearly jumped out of his pelt as lightning struck close to him. His ears rang painfully, and he ducked away as the black rock was split open by Sim-Hazat's spear. Had he displeased the Roar of the Waves somehow? Was this a warning? He tread forwards again, aiming to retrieve his trophy, but- "OW!" He hissed in pain, lifting his foot. He hadn't pressed hard enough to break the thickened skin on his pads, but it had been close. The shards of the black rock were sharp and shining, glinting like the teeth of a shark. Sharp... O'Taoma picked up the shard, turning it in his hand. He picked up a smooth river rock, and turned that over, too. This shard was too small, but maybe, if he struck a slightly larger one, like Sim-Hazat had struck the boulder... After several tries, and numerous fine knicks on his fingers, he held something that he could use. Already, the sky was clearing, and he could see a rainbow forming. He smiled as he turned the new obsidian knife in his hand. He had been clever, and he had teased a new use from a rock, of all things. Upon the drifting cloud, Sim-Hazat smirked. His children did not need their hands held, like Ywain did with his own followers. They just needed a little push in the right direction. --- Ti'Ataata sunned herself on the black sand beach, idly regarding her paw, in the haze that came from rubbing the tree frog, feeling the sea breeze pass over it. It was different from that of a Weaver, or a Tsukumogami. Broader, with webbing between the fingers. In her mind's eye, her arm became a branch. A connection was made. Broader, flatter, to push the water, and push whatever held the branch. Perhaps something could catch Sim-Hazat's breath, as well. She looked over where her husband was sitting by his newly made canoe, peeling the skin from a stingray. Those broad skins. Perhaps they could be joined together with something like the silk that the Weavers made. Perhaps the tough, stringy part that connected meat to bone. "A'mada...this might be the skin of the frog singing to me, but maybe..." A few hours later, Maha'Mosaka looked in amazement at the canoe. It was moving against the current! The couple laughed as they dug into the water with the flattened branches, splashing each other gleefully. And the strange tree they had erected had bundled skins on it, joined together tightly in a way that could catch the wind. Sim-Hazat smiled. --- Another rain had passed, and the sealkie were exploring again. They came across a vine, and for some reason, they probed it closer. They had not bothered with it before - it offered nothing to eat. But it was tough. They pulled, and it did not break. Five of their number, strong and heavy, pulled, and still, it did not break. One of their number who had not grown so heavy shimmied up the tree, and pried it from the branches above, while those below sawed it off with obsidian and jawbones. One of them looked at the cut end, how the fibers twisted around each other. "Maybe if we took more and twisted them like that...maybe dried it out, so it has no further to shrink?" "Maybe we could do the same with sinew?" "The Tsukumogami showed the knots they make. Maybe they can hold strong?" Above, Sim-Hazat smirked again. He had borne that vine far. His people had survived so far because they had been strong. Now they were showing that they were clever. They had learned the gifts Ywain had given to the Weavers, and discovered a few other things, as well. Show AP Use 1 AP - Teach Mundane Concept: Stone Tools 1 AP - Teach Mundane Concept: Fire 1 AP - Create Mundane Concept: Sails and Oars. Sealkies can now travel further, and control the direction in which they travel, rather than having to push while swimming. Travel (Seafaring) 6/10 1 AP - Create Mundane Concept: Rope. Others have doubtless used fibers of some sort before, but the sealkies have figured out how to twist them into rope, more durable and capable of withstanding greater loads. Travel (Seafaring) 7/10 Resources Remaining: 8/16 AP, 3/3 Infusions
  5. While one part of them was busy elsewhere, another element of the Fount’s attention was freed to attend to other matters. While they had been preoccupied elsewhere, it appeared that the sun had - not exactly died, but it was not what it had been. Perhaps it had died, after a fashion. Died and been reborn. The echo of its former self still rang off the edges of existence. That echo might become a reflection, if it passed through the right door - but wait. The First Key was…too complete? The blade was rigid. Unbending and inflexible. The doors it opened would be ragged-edged, unstable, as the Key was inserted by force, breaking what would not bend.. For a cleaner cut, it needed the perfect penetration for permitting passage - it needed to be able to conform to the lock it would be inserted into, before ever that lock existed. It must be fluid. Pressure can build in so many ways…the unwavering attention of a god is perhaps one of the more esoteric of these. Within the First Key, as its creator’s dissatisfaction settled, a terrible strain was rising - and for a blade designed never to chip nor break, it could rise for a terribly long time. But not forever. And at last, that pressure was released, as the entire blade shattered. -3 AP Infuse Artifact: The First Key (cost reduction) 8/10 Taboo (Violation) -0 AP Create Portal: The Pale Door The Pale Door, sometimes called the Ivory Path or the Gate of Bones, is the passage by which the myriad Dead enter the world behind the world. Others might one day step through this threshold, but every passage has its price; for the Pale Door, that price is speech, held in reserve for if the entrant might once again depart. -1 AP Alter Land: The Old Sun Brought to the Mirror Dream through the Pale Door 1/10 Death (Psychopomp)
  6. The First Deal – Tarac Deeper into the Twisting Caverns than what was entirely safe, but not quite deep enough to satisfy her curiosity about what was around the next bend, Anwane moved slowly and with the torch in a firm grip. As the tunnel widened into a cave, she heard the sound of something moving close by. Many somethings. She froze, pressed against the wall with the torch in one hand and a crude stone axe in one of the others. "Curious enough to go looking in the darkness, wise enough to bring the light. Very promising." As she looked up, Anwane saw many silver eyes in the darkness above, surrounded by the vague shapes of even more legs, ceaselessly moving around as the motionless eyes all stared at her. "I am Tarac the Trader, god of wealth and bond. I will make you an offer, Anwane of the Noiwa. Many offers." The eyes grew even larger. "The first is knowledge in exchange for naught but your time. Do you accept these terms?" Her head felt bursting with thoughts and empty all at once. But there was only one possible answer, really. She nodded. As soon as she did, she could feel the tingling sensation of tiny legs on her feet, as dozens of spiders started climbing up her. She stood as still as possible, barely breathing until the spiders had reached her head and started whispering. Under the gaze of Tarac, his tiny avatars taught her many things. What to do. Who he was. What was eventually meant to be. Eventually, the spiders talked no more and returned from whence they came. "Now you know enough to make a choice. Do you wish to proceed?" She nodded and three of the innumerable legs reached down from the darkness, grasped her like a hand picking up a pebble and pulled Anwane into the air, until she was close enough to the spider god's many eyes – each the size of her own head – to reach out and touch them. "Anwane of Tuwin and Vakhad, huntress of the Noiwa", the god spoke, each sound echoed by the countless spiders that were crawling all around. "Do you agree to serve me faithfully until your dying day or the day I fail to uphold anything I vow this day?" She made a sound, cleared her throat and tried again. "Y-yes. I promise." As another leg reached towards her, she could see the enormous claw at its point but when it moved across her forehead in an intricate pattern there was only a slightly hot and tingly sensation. "Do you agree to use the gifts I am bestowing upon you only for the betterment of the faithful or in their defense?" This time her voice was almost steady. "Yes." Once again the claw reached out of the darkness, this time marking her chin. "Do you agree to travel beyond everything you have ever known, ceaselessly searching for knowledge, riches and companions?" The newly created sun had almost reached the horizon in the world outside when Tarac gently laid Anwane down on the cave floor. The dropped torch had burned out, but the runes covering almost her entire body glowed faintly silver in the darkness. As she held up her hand in front of her eyes to study it, Anwane realized she could remember the meaning of each rune, symbolizing not only her covenant with her god but a language unto themselves and capable of binding a person to uphold their word. Her daze was broken by a loud snap from above and moments later that which had been broken off landed in front of her – it was the claw tip that had inscribed the runes on her body. Anwane carefully picked it up, it was longer than her hand and its point sharper than any animal's claw. She fell on her knees, her head pressed against the stone floor. "Thank you, great Tarac. I will... I will bring honor to your name." The rustling of countless legs sounded like the wind blowing through the forest as the spider god lowered himself until he was crouched on top of the huntress, his legs forming walls around her and the enormous silver eyes close to her own as she raised her head. "There is no need for thanks or glory, Anwane of the Noiwa." The echoing voice did not sound threatening, just very certain. "Just follow our agreement and find others to do the same." Later. Sitting on a rock by a beach very far from home, Anwane was eyeing the fish caught by a small group of Sealkies resting not far from her own companions. In the time since the covenant in the caverns she had started gathering followers almost by accident, telling people about what her god asked of her – what he had given her. Most of them were Weavers, but there were also a few Sealkies and a lone Tsukumogami. All of them already had several runes on their skin or armor, glowing of silver in the fading light. They had managed to gather quite a bit of food – mostly berries – but that fish still looked very tempting. In a moment of not-quite-divine inspiration she took some of the berries and walked over to the Sealkies. Maybe they did not even speak the same language, but what she had to say was very simple – what's mine for what's yours. AP Actions Teach Mundane Concept (1 AP): Writing [Society (Law) 1/10] – The Oathbound Companions learn about writing, using a simplified version of the oathbinding runes. Create Mythical Concept (4 AP + Infusion): Oathbinding [Society (Law) 5/10] All oaths are created by inscribing it on the body of the people involved (usually two or more, but it is possible for a person to have an oath with themselves, such as enforcing or forbidding a certain behavior), using a ritually made stylus (traditionally made of bone, but almost any material will do) that despite requiring neither ink nor even a sharp point leaves lasting marks on the skin (or equivalent). The person inscribing the oath is called an oathbinder and although it is possible to create an oath involving oneself it is usually looked down upon, with the exception of oaths involving only themselves. The runes specify all the details of the oath – what is to be done, the people involved and anything else. The runes last until the agreement has been fulfilled (or possibly until removed by equally powerful magic) – which may be never, in some cases – when they fade away quickly and without a trace. A broken oath will typically still remain on the skin, unless otherwise removed. The placement of the runes is unimportant to the oath itself, though many people choose to put them in some clearly visible location as a display of trustworthiness (notably devout followers of Tarac, who traditionally has their oath with their god permanently written on their face). The colour of the runes depend on the surface – dark runes on light skin and vice versa – but they always glow with a silvery light in the dark, which savvy people can use to know that they are authentic. An oath can only be made with the consent of all people involved – and they must want to agree, not merely say the words (though feeling conflicted about it is acceptable) so forcing someone to accept is more or less impossible (though manipulating someone into wanting to agree is very much allowed). Although each oath is unique, they are typically divided into three types of varying strength: vow, pact and covenant. Stronger oaths also require a stronger oathbinder – anyone with basic knowledge can create a vow but it takes years of dedicated study to create a covenant. Vow: A vow is the weakest oath and typically used in day-to-day life, such as trading or temporary agreements and the enforcement is more due to social pressure – as the vow will still be visible on their skin – than a supernatural one. A person bound by a vow will usually follow it when acting on instinct and feel a subconscious desire to uphold it, but it can be broken with some mental effort. Meanwhile, acting in accordance with the oath will create a feeling of peace and wellbeing. Breaking it will usually lead to some fairly mild physical symptoms, such as nausea, headaches or sneezing, that lasts for a couple of days or weeks. Pact: A pact is much like a vow, only stronger. The drive to uphold the oath becomes an obsessive thought if not followed and unless the person actively tries to break it they will act in accordance with it. Breaking it requires a substantial act of willpower and usually leaves the person very ill for weeks or months, with symptoms ranging from trouble breathing to intense pain or partial paralysis. Covenant: A covenant is nigh-unbreakable and without an uttermost effort of will, the person will act in accordance with it. Should they somehow be able to break it, it will almost certainly result in death (unless counteracted by a force of equal strength). Raise Hero (2 AP): Anwane the Seeker [Knowledge (Exploring) 2/10] (A Weaver huntress of the Noiwa tribe, tasked by Tarac to travel the world as a trader and explorer, to seek and spread knowledge) Create Minor Utility Artifact (Create Mundane Concept) (3 AP): The Claw of Tarac [Society (Law) 8/10] (Once part of Tarac himself, turned into a stylus – the first of its kind and capable of writing onto almost anything, whether for Oathbinding or something more mundane) Create Organization (1 AP): The Oathbound Companions of the Trader and the Seeker [Knowledge (Exploring) 3/10] The Oathbound Companions of the Trader and the Seeker – more commonly known as the Oathbound or the Companions – started out as traveling companions of Anwane the Seeker as she traveled the world, intrigued by the task she had been given by her god. They rarely stay in one place for long, always seeking out new places, people, knowledge and deals while surviving on what they can gather, hunt or – most importantly – trade for. All are welcome to travel with them or to join them, though both require accepting an oathbinding. Temporary followers just have to agree to a pact to follow the rules of the group (usually written on their arms) while new members have their covenant with Tarac written on their face. Many also take many other oaths – to not lie or swindle being the most common one – prominently displayed on their bodies. They are given the gifts of Writing and Oathbinding. Create Mundane Concept (Created using the Claw of Tarac): Trading – All the people of the world learn about the wonders of trading one thing for another. Remaining AP: 1/12 Remaining infusions: 2/3
  7. A Birth In Wood A god, perhaps younger than most, or perhaps much older, but either way certainly absent until mere moments ago, hums gently to themself as they stroll across the land. Ilura ponders this new and near-untouched world as they wander, examining the great savanna of the First Continent. This is a land that knows death, from the lowliest grasses to the noblest beasts, but not one that feels it. A delightful paradox; impermanence giving rise to a land unchanging, for nothing can remember long enough to forget. Delightful, though also disquieting. Ilura pauses in their frolic to meditate, but quickly find it quite impossible with the newly passing day and night. In irritation, they nestle themselves deep within the canopy of a great and lonesome tree atop a gentle hill, where for seven days, they sit in perfect stillness, thinking on what can be done to resolve this enigma of permanent impermanence, and this challenge to their fundamental nature and belief. In the end, the answer is simple. If nothing can end, then nothing can begin either. So, to create endings, all that is required is a single beginning. Satisfied, Ilura drops from the canopy of the tree and sets to work. They turn to the tree that sheltered them for those fateful seven days, and bow in gratitude for the blessing. "You have blessed me with shelter from the changing skies, and in gratitude I must offer you gifts in turn. Watch closely, for I shall impart three lessons to you, each more precious than the last." To begin, more trees are needed. One by one, a single finger is laid upon each of the fledgling seeds of the tree, and each shudders with blighted growth. They fall from overburdened branches and roll down the hill, where they sprout in mere moments. Over the course of minutes, each rises tall, flourishing, then decays to nothing as their own seeds fall, offering nutrients for the next generation. It is less than an hour before a lush forest carpets the area, and Ilura turns back to the tree. "First, you must understand that all change is illusion. Some will tell you that there are no true endings, only transformations, but they are fools. That is exactly backwards; there is no such thing as transformation. There is only ending. Even motion is ending. Even stillness is ending." They lay a hand on the trunk of the tree, and it shudders, the growth and motion of root and branch made suddenly quick. It writhes silently, and though the wood hears and remembers, it does not know or understand. "Second, a mind is nothing but an ending that knows itself. 'You' are you because there is a will that wills it so. In this way, a mind is the most precious ending of all, for it is the only ending that knows its own beauty." The tree stills as the lesson is imparted, and a weeping rain of flower petals falls from above. Finally, the god kneels and touches the front of their flowering head to the tree, sharing, for a moment, a vision of the world as they see it. Ilura lays a single finger gently on the trunk of the tree, but no power is imbued in it this time. "Last of all, I tell you this: do not cry because it continues. Rejoice, because it will cease. I do not need to bless you with ending; that is the birthright of all things. But I will offer you one last blessing: you and your children may forget how it is you came to learn these lessons, but you may not forget the lessons themselves." And the tree knew this to be true, and it gazed around at the forest. The other trees had listened too, and though they did not know the touch of the gods, trees are wise, and so they knew the wisdom in the words they had heard. Leaves gently rustled in conversation as the new race began to stretch their limbs. But the first tree knew anguish, so it turned, beseechingly, to the god. "I beg of you," it said in the newborn language of the trees, "let me know ending, for I have watched so many of my children end now, and I cannot bear to go on. Let me be a final lesson to my fellows; a proof of the ending in all things." Ilura saw its pain, and tearfully agreed. They laid their hand upon the tree, and rot spread through its limbs like lightning. With a blissful sigh, the tree passed. Ilura reached deep within the rotting carcass of wood and pulled out a spike of heartwood, which they left untouched by the rot. "I shall keep this as a reminder of your final lesson, until it too rots away. It shall be a mighty weapon when it is ready." With that, they walked away from the forest, leaving the confused society of treefolk to flourish, grow, and, eventually, die, having already forgotten the strange flower-headed figure that had given them their gifts. They called themselves the Drya, and for the moment, they stared out at the world in wonderment. AP Actions 1 AP - Alter Land - The Grove Of The Drya. A large forest stretching across the South-Western tip of the First Continent, populated by an unusual variety of trees, most of which are actually the sapient Drya. [1/10 Death (Sacrifice)] 3 AP - Create Life (Magical Race) - The Drya. A people of bark, wood, and leaves. Long-lived, but extremely aware of their mortality due to the circumstances of their creation. Avid observers of the world, with the potential to grow very large. Fast by the standards of trees, slow by the standards of most animals. Still perfectly capable of mauling any would-be woodsmen. [4/10 Death (Sacrifice)] 4 AP spent, now at 8/16
  8. A Promise in Bearded Bronze - The Mirror Dream - Ywain Ywain was immersed in his contemplation on himself, examining closely the irrevocable changes that had occurred as his name was given to another. While he would likely never admit it, the experience had shamed him as his proud name now burdened an existence that was not its first; a conclusion that he had come to in his reflection, examining the faults and cracks of his ego where they did not perfectly align anymore. Yet Ywain would not waiver to prove worthy of not just his name, but of the existence that had once been Ixipikzi. He held no hope that Ixipikzi would share this sentiment. The thought brought a small chuckle out of Ywain as he opened his eyes upon finishing his time of self-reflection. Ywain witnessed in front of him a vast land he had never seen before, under a sky that held no sun that changed its hue every time he gazed upon it, though it was always dark. Dirt paths strewn across it with the sound of galloping in the distance, but never within sight when Ywian chased after it. Intrigued by the challenge he began to see if he could catch up to whatever traveled along the road. Running along the road into the deep jungle he could almost hear it tease him with its secrets hidden beneath the foliage just beyond the roads. Yet Ywain held firm and continued to chase the galloping noise. The road abruptly entered a desert who’s wide expanse and sandy environment invoked the image of a beach in Ywain. Here the galloping stopped for a time, and Ywain believed that he was getting closer as he heard a whisper in the distance- only to have it abruptly end with mocking laughter and more galloping just as Ywain believed he was about to witness the one he was pursuing. Taking the challenge to heart Ywain gave one hearty laugh before having the earth quake with his steps as he leaped forth again and again great distances; and when he was beneath a particularly large sandy hill he leaped over it in a single leap straight into an abrupt grasslands reminiscent of the first land’s. Amid the fields that stretched onto the horizon that lead up to the sky Ywain abruptly could not hear the galloping anymore. It was quiet and he took his time to observe the rich fields that shifted with every glance. He wandered for a time before he decided to rest in a clearing beneath the rare tree here. Idly thinking back to the sun that he could not see amidst the sky here. Ywain remembered the heat his furious fists had produced, something too terrible to replicate needlessly. Yet… he decided to try and replicate it here in miniature. He took a dry branch the size of Ywain’s arm and placing it upon his legs before punching down at it lightly; cracking the branch in two instantly with only a thin burst of heat. Recalling his early lesson in patience Ywain took another branch upon his legs and another sturdy twig and placed it between his hands, moving it with great force to see if he could replicate the resultant heat the punches produced without destroying the log. It was during this that a dead branch fell onto Ywain’s lap, with a few of the dead leafs caught near the point of friction Ywain was creating- bursting into flames on his lap. Unharmed by such flames Ywain watched as they consumed the dead branch hungrily before dying, leaving only small embers to gnaw away at the log Ywain had been working on. It was fascinating, something he wished to experiment more with now that he- but then he suddenly looked away from his project. Eyes from the bushes stared at Ywain’s ash covered body holding a log with a few flames still licking at the surroundings. With a wave of one of his large hands Ywain let loose barking laughter at how he must appear as he beckoned those hiding eyes forward. Fascinated a large group of winged humanoids appeared out of the grass slowly approaching Ywain till in a sudden burst of motion began to swarm around him with frantic questions and a surprising amount of energy that felt familiar. “Your so strong?” “Can I have your name?” “What's this name? It's so warm!” And so on, Ywain let them talk for a time before he let the burning log on his hand rest as he crossed his four arms and gave a proud nod. “I am Ywain, my name is my own and this creation I deem… fire!” The small hands tried to touch the log or pick up other sticks, but ultimately found they could not with their insubstantial hands. With shouts including ‘fire’ a few started small bush burnings, but when they looked back at Ywain and his log a few were unsatisfied. It was a curious sight for powerful Ywain to behold and he beckoned these souls to him. “You would wish to tame flame not by your voice’s command, but by hand and form?” he bluntly asked. Sheepishly they nodded, hoping to receive some easy advice or aid with their pitiable looks. Yet Ywain’s heart grinned at this opportunity, he stroked his beard as he replied. “I can give you my gift of form if you desire, yet you must listen to my wisdom and guidance to achieve its full potential.” Some of the small fae left at this point, but many curious ones remained nodding along only asking that they be given the greatest forms in return for listening to him. Ywain contemplated this then nodded. “Very well, I shall weave together these forms upon you now.” and began to work; taking the flames of the log, the dry soil around him, the lush sap of the tree, and a thin strand of his own blood and weaving together forms much like his own around the names of the fae. As the flames of the log became embers the smaller four armed beings looked around them, noticing the landscape had changed. The horizon no longer appeared to curve up to an endless land that would stretch above them but sink below them. The grasslands around them did not shift beyond the wind’s breeze. They shivered as Ywain held out the log and pointed to the grass. Yet the four armed beings only spoke with distraught. Why did they feel like this? It felt terrible! Ywain gave a patient nod. "You are cold, go and collect that grass and we will tame a new fire. Also, gather stones as well, for I shall show you how to sculpt the tools you shall need.” his tone became soft as he said “I have agreed to share my wisdom and guidance, and I shall never break this promise to you. I have learned my lesson to never weave too tightly again, thus you can unwind and reweave what I have given you. A day will come when you may discard it, but only when you have achieved its greatest potential.” While they despaired at the challenges they did not imagine being brought before them, the weavers did not complain as they listened to the confident Ywain. Feeling for the first time that earning this greatest potential may one day be worth it, patience that Ywain himself was grateful for. AP Action 11/12 AP -1 Create Magical Sub-Race (Fae->Weavers): Weavers are a race of 7-11ft tall four armed humanoids born with a Fae name trapped inside their bodies. Powerful physically they are gifted with the ability to manipulate Weaver flesh, a slow painful process that allows for minor changes in adults but is the means of their reproduction- as two parent Weavers create a new body on a third Weaver’s body over the course of months that eventually becomes a viable Weaver infant (more or fewer Weavers can be involved, but this is unhealthy for the child). In addition to this Weavers can produce a spider-like thread from their bodies through organs in their lower arms. While strong it is also sticky and degradable, requiring some form of innovation before it can make fabrics or be used in more creative endeavors. Naturally Weavers use it to bind stone tools to wood and make crude nets to carry objects over long travels. Weavers are sexually mature at age 20 and live to at most 140 years naturally. Their appetite is enormous, with Weavers easily eating two or three times as much as a human with their large frames and physically intensive body manipulation or web production. -2 Create Legendary Society - The Road Woven: While the Weavers and Tsukumogami have yet to meet, their shared destiny is one that is founded on the same road. Weavers nomadically travel the roads seeing them as divine pathways that will lead them to prosperous hunting grounds. -1 Create Mundane Concept - Fire: The first tamed flames appear among the Weavers, using it as a method of warmth, protection, and hunting as they clear grass bush looking for prey. Friction fire starting with webbing is the most common means of starting flames with webbing covered sticks with a mix of fat and tinder being used for torches. -1 Create Mundane Concept - Stone Tools: With careful care Ywain shows the Weavers which stones to use and how to apply the lithic trade. Spears, axes, knives, and more are produced by the Weavers as they experiment with prepared core stone cutting techniques. Ywain was proud of the early works of the Weavers, yet as he explored the three corners he came to a troubling conclusion- the lands would bleed into one another till they lost their identity. Grappling the earth with his mighty hands he heaved large stone from the shores onto the land to separate the three lands- for the most part. They were still connected but they would now no longer bleed into one another to an extent Ywain felt was irresponsible. He made sure to use his great feet to stomp new roads into the ground to connect to the ones he had disrupted. During this long and tiring affair Ywain came across his old arm that he had discarded, now a metallic blue and still moving on its own. Taking pity on the object, as well as feeling a kinship to it after his self-reflection, he took it back into his cave where he discovered it would listen and give its own cryptic advice wordlessly. AP Action 6/12 AP -5 + Infusion Slot Create Greater Utility Artifact (Create Advance Concept) - The Arm of Invention: An arm carrying the same productive potential as Ywain with a carefree attitude, this silent arm with a white-blue metallic appearance offers its silent advice to Ywain and those near the god. When not near the god it’s powerful and trickster nature shines through, thusly Ywain rarely lets it interact with anyone without him present. -1 Create Land (The Land of Three Corners): Ywain finishes the land of three corners by placing great mountains between the three lands, with new roads through them to keep the lands connected to one another.
  9. Kuigio and Freespinner rode their aimless circuit across the Land of Three Corners. Until one endless day... This was meant to be a place of pampas, on the edge of the White Blood Forest. The Great River delta near, but the road was created far outside the flood plain. What was this!? Mud and water, far from where it was ordained. And then, a roar! The Krokotyran was fearsome. Freespinner could have taken him. Kugiio could have unmade him with a thought... They left him behind, alive, only spared choking on dust because the wet earth kicked none up. After a reaching a safe distance, Freespinner meditated on the Spark within her. And she begat the First Law of the Road Woven ⚠️ DANGER AHEAD! PASS WITH CAUTION AP ACTIONS 2 AP (shared) Create Legendary Society: The Road Woven Description forthcoming Travel (Crossroads) X/10 Artifact use- Create mundane concept: Writing A system of representing communication via objects. Two systems exist at current. Quipu, a system of knots wherein certain sequences represent numbers, with each number corresponding to a lyric in a complicated song, in a manner corresponding to a book cypher. The second system is Hieroglyphs. This is a codified system of symbols, each representing either a syllable and/or word.
  10. To Dream of Mirrors & Reflect A Dream Names. Names names names names names. Ikzipixi liked names. They liked the way they sounded and felt and tasted, the way they rolled off the tongues, the simple joy of their creation, the way they meant nothing and yet everything. They had found many amusements and played many games and taken many shapes in the days (or perhaps it was months, or years, or centuries) since they left the great bright orb behind to wander the great blue orb and specifically its little pool of not-blue instead, but names were a recurring favorite pastime of theirs. It became almost like a game, making up as many as they could - short ones and long ones and heavy ones and light ones and smooth ones and zig-zaggy ones and ones that could only be spoken in pheromones or dance. Some Ixipikzi gave out to everything they could see, to frogs and clouds and rocks and bugs and birds and even little blades of grass. Others, they kept for themselves, and still others they gave to nothing in particular, letting them float along the wind without a care in the world. After some time spent like this, though, wandering this way and that way and other ways besides, naming all they came across and taking whichever shapes and not-shapes caught their fancy, Ixipikzi came upon a quite unusual shape indeed. A rocky pool of bubbling and gushing red, with a great spire of stone thrust up from its center like a knife into the sky. Something that, they could tell, already had a name. They flitted about it for a few moments, unsure what shape to take; they tried a big swampy lake of green algae and hopping frogs, then a pillar of dead and frozen ice, then a waterfall of twinkly lights; they settled at last for a low cloud floating a few dozen feet above the frothy red surface, a broad vortex of fog and cold mist swirling around a clear eye at its center; staring down into it, as it stared up at them. Ixipikzi waited; curious if it would say anything, or how it might say it. And as the Divine stared, the churning flow of crimson slowed - calmed. A slower current formed eddies in those red waters, bloody foam drifting to the edges of the pool. It knew this one to be of a kin - blood had not yet been shared between them, but the world was young, and that could change. This one above them was a mirror - mirrors could be sharp as any knife, as deep as any doorway. What, then, if you showed a mirror it's own reflection? Was that kinship? The sharing of an image which was itself the reflection of a reflector? Would it matter if it weren't? *** Slowly, agonizingly, the Fount staunched itself, closing off its flow, though the abstinence burned and the pressure would build. It knew, as all things must, that it could not resist its own nature, not for long, not at all. But still, it stilled itself, and in that stillness the pool of the Fount became a crimson mirror into which the Faceless Face stared. Around the pair, even the fires of the First Wound calmed, as if holding its breath to watch. And as that reflection deepened, sharpened, stretching out into the infinite- It happened without a sound. Without anything at all to mark that it had occurred, except that the Crimson Fount, Doorfather and Gateburster, had for a moment realized it did not feel strained by holding back its own flow - and then in the briefest of moments, in the length of time required for an image to become forever, they were neither of them in the First World. About The Satirist and The Fount were no longer the fires of the First Wound, but a living charnel sea, washing viscera out to black waters, vomiting bloody nightmares into a world that stretched on, and on, and…up. The sky was water and earth, with only the memory of light to make aught visible at all - though, of course, the Fount did not need light to see, and know what had become. Together, two mirrors had become an entrance to a reflection. How long had this place existed, just behind that First World? Undiscovered but not untouched, the symbols and meaning of the world echoed here - or perhaps the practice and the manifestation of this dream echoed there? Both seemed plausible. Mayhaps both were true. But the Fount knew that it was bound to this place - in becoming a door, it had also become an anchor. This mirror of the First World would not drift off again. Not while the Fount remained a passageway - and that, it would always be. *** Ixipikzi stared in. Ikzipixi stared out. But what stared out was not Ikzipixi, so what stared in must not be Ixipikzi either. But what stared in *was* Ikzipixi, so what stared out must be Ixipikzi also. Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, a reflection’s reflection’s reflection, twin infinities locked together as one, endless key, endless lock, endless knife, endless wound, back and forth until one could scarce tell the difference between them. A soundless click as the key turns. A soundless pop as negative space becomes positive. Forth becomes back, knife becomes wound. Outside up and downside in. *** Ikzipixi turned away from the pool, looking up - or perhaps it was down - at their surroundings. In one sense, they had arrived somewhere entirely new; in another, they had not moved a single inch. Their reflection in the pool both was and wasn’t, a familiar face and an alien stranger; and so it was with everything else around them. Peaks and valleys that stretched and warped, their silhouettes rippling and shifting in echoing - defiance? affirmation? - of the geography they mimicked, beneath a sky turned outside-in. Names echoed all around, many of them ones that Ixipikzi had given to this place’s First-World counterparts - and there, in the trees, the goddess could see them: the names they’d given to nothing in particular, dancing and ogling and giggling. Had they been given? Taken? Both? Neither? Did a reflection exist before the mirror showed it? If a tree fell in the woods where nobody could hear it, did it make a sound? These new friends seemed quite taken with that joke. Ixipikzi flitted over to them, imitating their insectoid forms; after a moment, they did the same, back and forth and back, a wondrous game! Ixipikzi shared a few new games with the strangers as well, and the strangers - Fae, they called themselves - shared their games in turn; games of riddles and words and chance and names, names won and lost, traded and bartered, made up and cast away. These games were played quite seriously, in absence of much else to be serious about. Some won a lot; some won only a little. But it was very, very important not to lose. AP Actions (The Crimson Fount) 7/16 AP -0 AP Weave Plane (Shared w/Ixipikzi & X'll'll) [1 Infusion Slot] - The Mirror Dream A hollow sphere, behind the First World or perhaps just below its (metaphysical) skin - as one is drawn towards the center of the First World, one is drawn away from the center of the Mirror Dream. The world has a geography clearly related to that of the First World, but warped - a reflection of the meaning of a place, and the primordial significance, rather than the mere physicality of it. There are, occasionally, shared landmarks, but it would be a rare mapmaker indeed whose cartography of the First World allowed one to navigate the Mirror Dream. The dream-like logic and the heady haze which could be super-reality or pseudo-reality only make navigation all the more esoteric for those who do not know the Paths left by the Pathcarver. A ready home for gods to settle - for all they must do to enter is look inwards, and reflect. 7/16 AP AP Actions (Ikzipixi) 8/16 AP -4 AP Create Legends [1 Infusion Slot] - Fae A name given to nothing in particular is an oxymoron - for, once a bit of nothing in particular has a name, it necessarily becomes Something in particular. That something, when reflected through the crimson waters of the Fount of Life into the plane of the Mirror-Dream, is a Fae. A Fae is created from a discarded name; when a name is made up and not given to a person or a place or an object, but allowed to simply pass into the ether, its reflection will be born as a Fae in the Mirror-Dream sooner or later. Fae are immortal, largely ethereal beings, a wisp of a Name with an illusory body composed of mist and magic. Their forms vary and can be changed at will, but many favor forms akin to winged insectoid humanoids, with brightly-colored moth and butterfly wings often used as expressions of various things, including mood, emotion, loyalties, or simply personal creative tastes. Fae possess a natural proclivity for the Fool’s Art, and can use it at will without the need of implements and rituals as mundane peoples do (though the connection to wordplay remains). Fae have no need for food or water, and limited requirements for rest, so much of their time is filled with various games, competitions, stories, creative pursuits and other leisure activities. Fae cannot exist as they are outside of the Mirror-Dream; their insubstantial and intangible forms would evaporate if taken outside the land of dreams. 4/10 AP -> Life (Fae) -1 AP Create Monsters - The Bereft A Fool’s mistake. A cruelty of the Fae. The least of all beings - a Thing with no name. The Fool’s Art can remove names from a person; when they *all* are removed, what is left is barely more than nothing at all - a shadowy echo, a half-substantial memory of someone that was. The Bereft are insubstantial and formless things, with barely more substance than a shadow, and they quickly slide out of memory and awareness. They are difficult to notice and, even when they are, difficult to remember afterwards. “Bereft” is merely one term for them, inconsistently applied, as they have no permanent and recognized names or forms on which to latch, and their appearance often lies mostly in the eye of the beholder. Wraiths, shades, foxfires, spectres - these meager half-names, applied out of fear or confusion or simple convenience, have only the barest and most tentative hold on them; enough to keep them from fading from existence entirely, but not enough to form a true *identity*. Thus deprived, they wander aimlessly from place to place, possessing only enough memory and awareness to know that they once *did* have a name, and are very, very hungry to have one again - pleading, whispering, grasping at any chance they get to steal or barter for a new one. 5/10 AP -> Identity (Names) -2 AP Weave Plane (Shared with Crimson Fount and X’ll’ll) - The Mirror Dream See full description elsewhere 6/10 AP -> Life (Fae) 1/16 AP
  11. Name: Doran'Ramh Domains: Sun (Sunlight), Courage (Adventurers) AP: 12 Infusions: 3 Symbols: Copper Sun, Lapis gemstone in a Copper setting, twin crossed axes or lances. Personality: Doran'Ramh values bravery, freedom, independence and pride. Doran'Ramh is a typical god, prideful in his way, though is fairly down to earth when listening to the requests of mortals. He genuinely believes exploration, adventure and great stories to be a treasure worth sharing and often blessed those who take on brave endeavors against the odds. It's no coincidence that he is a prideful god and, while viewing himself as a fair and just God, he has his biases. Appearance: Doran'Ramh manifests to mortals and other gods as a ball of golden light, around four by four feet in dimension, exuding a bright sunlight that somehow doesn't hurt to look upon. He resembles a large whisp, though this shape is primal and unshaped. Dogma: Doran'Ramh looks upon those who undertake brave adventures and stand against the odds with favor and blesses those who stand against tyranny. Conversely he looks down on cowards, liars and underhanded deeds with disdain and curses especially heinous acts. Truth, honesty, integrity and inner strength are virtues. As the literal manifestation of the spirit of the sun, he views himself as a giver of life and prosperity.
  12. The Great Weeping Sim-Hazat looked upon his sealkies with disappointment. But not at his chosen people, nor the gods that had chosen to meddle with them. No, the disappointment was directed entirely inward. He had breathed life and power into them, given them the knowledge of drifting upon fallen logs, and thought that to be enough. And yet still they struggled far too much. Upon Cradle, they had to be taught a new way of life to survive the new, fearsome plant life that had arisen. They struggled to convey thought and emotion, until another granted them speech. Many died of thirst on their voyages, until another god coiled clay for them to carry fresh water. How could he have been so vainglorious, so short-sighted? Upon gloomy stratonimbus, Sim-Hazat rode to the coast of the three-cornered land. He sat on a rock, blind to his surroundings as he dwelled upon his failure. In response, the skies opened, and rain fell. Days turned to months, then seasons, then years. The land bloated with water, the rivers bursting their banks, the local plants, built for dry and sparse lands, drowned. The local life fled, or they, too, fell to the judgement of the Breathstealer. After three years, Sim-Hazat rose from the rock, the face of a wolf pushing from the black clouds to survey what had happened. Had he hands, he would have slapped himself for his carelessness. He had made a right mess of the land, and on another god's continent, to make matters worse! "No. This is not good. Water takes life, but it must give it in equal measure. I cannot let this drowned land to fester without life." He looked about, seeing that life was already struggling to colonize the brackish waters. Sim-Hazat pondered, small sparks of lightning arcing within him as his humming formed from the thunder. "The life of this land has means to test endurance, true. But what of strength? I shall form a gift to test them. And for each one that prevails, a great bounty to reward them." He took one of the lizards of the water, and pumped vitality into it until it bloated with muscle, until its skin darkened to match the darkness of stagnant water and anoxic muck. It's scutes grew bonier, harder, sharper, its teeth countless and sharp as obsidian. He lined its stomach with nacre, and gave it the urge to swallow stones to grind down its prey, grinding them in turn into smooth gems imbued with its own strength. And finally, he gave it a mind full of base cunning. It would never match the wit of a Sealkie, nor of the Tsukumogami, but those too at ease within its territory would be trapped and swallowed. But those who found ways to lay it low? Meat to feed an entire tribe for a week, the teeth and bones, hide and scutes, and the precious stones within its belly. "Krokotyrans, they shall call you," He declared, watching as it silently swept into the dead trees, which were already sprouting anew. "They shall fear you where the sweet water meets salt, and terrify them with tales of your hunger. But as they grow, they shall test their strength against you, and claim your power for themselves. The strong and cunning shall be the victors, while I shall fill the lungs of the prideful and foolish, even as they are torn asunder in your jaws. Be cunning and strong yourself, for if not, they will smash your eggs and wring the necks of your young." If the beast understood Sim-Hazat, it gave no indication as it sank deep, glaring outward with hunger. Already, the clouds grew lighter, and the waters calmer. Sim-Hazat floated away, his previous self-doubt quelled. This was a new world. There was much to be created and discovered, and he was but one god. So what if other gods were the ones to reveal the tools needed to survive? He could still provide ones of his own, and means to test them. He had new ideas to consider and plan. But first, he must inform Kuigiio. These were meant to be a test and a reward, not a cruel trap. Show AP Costs 1 AP - Alter Land - The Weeping Lands. A vast network of marshes, swamps, floodplains and rivers. Life is adapting to its new waterlogged and brackish state, but it might need a little helping hand from other gods to truly prosper. Life (Wilderness) 2/10 1 AP - Create monster - Krokotyrans, the crocodile tyrant. As an alligator or crocodile, but seen through the lens of a nightmare. A mass of muscle, bone, and thick hide, able to silently move through the flooded lands in search of prey. Taking one down in the early days of this land will be a great struggle, but success will bring great rewards. Life (Wilderness) 3/10 Remaining resources: 0/16 AP, 2/3 infusions
  13. Springing forth from the darkness of space, a flurry of colors emerged, wrapping around each other before taking form with a single mask appearing from within the rainbow mass, forming itself into a humanoid appearance before brushing itself off. "Aaaah! Smell that air, see the world and hear the crashing of the waves, a glorious feast for the senses, what a beautiful world we have before us! And yet it could always be better!" He shimmers across the sky, circling the globe as he ponders what wonders would make this sphere all the more of a wonderous place to exist, only then he saw the primitive races walking across though the lands, drinking from the rivers and surviving off what the land could provide. All of them looked so serious, so focused on survival, and listening in he could scarcely hear a single word with meaning behind it, this could not stand, these people may be alive, but they aren't alive, this must be remedied, perhaps... For those Sealkie If only he could make it so these boorish trips back and forth between fresh water sources and their sea wouldn't take so much of their pitifully short lives. Then he had a wonderous idea, an idea that made his smile grow so wide that it burst right off his face. Grabbing a hold of the black arch that was once his grin, he curved it and strung strings made of threads that bind the world. Then with one momentous strum of his lyre, the clay at the rivers basin began to animate, floating up and spiraling into a clay pot before resting down at the Sealkie's lap, and upon that clay pot only one design lay, the carved dual face of Zerahdi's holy symbol. "There we are! Now that that's done, let's wipe that frown off your face and replace it with a fulfilling grin! Ah but even better, let's make sure you can speak your mind, show the world what you truly feel! Language shall be yours my dear human, I want to hear all your joy, your sorrow, and your frustrations!" With another strum, the reverberating sound of inspiration flew down, now entering the woman's ears and blessing her with a language all her own, and yet, when hearing such a melody, she did not say a thing, instead she sang along to the melody, wrapped up in the wonder that the music had blessed her with, to this Zerahdi smiled. "Yes! Yes wonderful, language and song, so wonderous! But why keep these gifts to yourself, let's share these gifts with the whole world!" With one final strum, he weaves the knowledge of pottery, language, as well as the woman's song together, projecting it across the globe for all to hear. However, right before it reached the kingdoms of the other gods, he stops it, allowing the melody to hang in the air as he approached each land and people's gods. "Ho there great gods, I have a request to share with you the gifts of pottery, language and song, but language and song would be boorishly boring if it was all the same, so I invite you all to craft your own melodies, your own tongues for your people to speak and sing, make this world a wonderous cacophony of feeling together!" AP Actions Create Lesser Utility Artifact (3 AP, Create Mundane concept) - Primordial Lyre: Zerahdi grasps upon the smile of his mask, pulling it away and stretching out into the curved shape of a midnight black lyre, weaving the strings of the instrument from the very threads of reality, bringing upon the world an instrument capable of inspiring the minds of mortals to create, indescribable passion guiding their hands as they make a work of art. [Culture (Music) 3/10] Create Mundane Concept (1 AP) - Pottery: Wanting to test out his new lyre, even if it was a little out of tune and required some power to use properly, he noticed the humans having issues walking back and forth from water sources, so boring, wastes precious time, perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone and give them something to do with their time, that would also save them time, strumming a harmonious tune, he created the sound of inspiration across the land, calling the creative to use the clay at their disposal, form it, mold it into hardened pots with elaborate designs, their hearts poured into these creations. [Culture (Art) 1/10] Create Mundane Concept (1 AP) - Music: While his song did create what it needed to do, it also inspired the hearts of creatures to partake in songs and dance, not just the humans and other creatures of intelligence, but the birds, the bees, the monkeys, all manner of creatures joined in the chorus, and the glorious sounds of nature were created for the world. [Culture (Music) 4/10] Create Advanced Concept (2 AP) - Language: Putting away his lyre, he listened to the music coming from the planet, but something bothered him, no greater meaning was coming from these songs, just noises of pleasure, pain, vague emotional sounds, no no, this wouldn't do, these humanoids must be able to communicate, but not just any communication, with one breath he blew forth a whistling tune that made each capable creature learn their own unique language. [Culture (Literature) 2/10] AP Remaining 5/16
  14. Research and Development Upon completion of their first task, Ananya swam about the Void, pondering how best to further their studies. While perfectly capable of retaining all this knowledge within their own mind, it would be impolite to assume others were able to compartmentalize like they could, let alone the lesser creatures devoid of higher functioning. There also existed the possibility of their colleagues ruining, or even destroying, the projects of others. While they found that idea absolutely repugnant, tempers can indeed flare up, and lead to actions lacking foresight. That simply would not do at all, so perhaps a backup plan would be worthwhile, if things go every which way but forward. Another thought occurred to them while outlining the necessary framework; it could also provide them and their colleagues a quiet place to test theories on various creations before introducing them wholesale to the First World. Using all eight of their limbs to grab at the very fabric of the Void, they made a slight tear, just large enough for them to slip through. The space they found themselves in was pure and pristine nothingness, a blank canvas ready to be worked upon solely by their will, and they took a moment to appreciate the nature of the space. Group projects were welcomed and always interesting, but there were times when Ananya’s methodologies were questioned and criticized by those who just didn’t understand that true progress could only be achieved through indifferent experimentation. Forming biases towards lesser creatures would lead to skewed results caused by a hesitant hand; they reserved their morality for life and existence as a whole, to push it to new heights of achievement, adaptability, and evolution. With the moment now savored and behind them, they began sloughing off the first layer of their skin, stretching and shaping it into the land they desired. A taiga of boreal conifers and underground fungal structures, with a looming mountain range, held firmly in the freezing grasp of harsh winter. A brief window of spring, summer, and autumn to allow for the conifers to expand and thrive at an accelerated pace. Carving out spaces within the mountains for workspaces and cataloguing, establishing the function and laws of reality within the new plane through willful design, attempting to plan with enough wisdom to maintain the purpose and neutrality of this realm. Once they were satisfied, they stepped back to take in the austere beauty of it all, their shifting colors signifying contentment. The only thing left to do would be to give it a name. “I shall call this plane Svaldaegan; may it serve its purposes well, though I can only hope the second shall be unnecessary. Now to gather the necessary specimens, no more than what is needed to ensure repopulation efforts while minimizing deleterious effects of limited breeding.” While Ananya was busy creating their planar research center, one of the Terrortoma’s tendrils writhed through the magma filled chasm of the First Wound and the ocean surrounding it, plunging back into the soft crust again, to finally slither its way up through the caldera of a newly created volcano to the open air. Multiple creatures erupted from pustules along the length, having been formed by the environments the tendril encountered, before the limb retreated back into itself before rotational forces could shear it off. These new entities poured into the magma flows, the earth and oceans of the First World, and lastly the windy open skies above. Their forms were made from the very environment around them; creatures of fire, water, earth, and air. Thus, the Primals were born and began their proliferation throughout the First World. AP Actions Weave Plane (3 AP + 1 IS) – Svaldaegan: (Taiga Ambience: ) (Facility Ambience: ) (Pronunciation: Svawl-day-gon) Purpose of Svaldaegan: This plane serves three functions; a failsafe should a total extinction event occur to allow for repopulation at a given era, a collection of information regarding all life that comes into existence, and for conducting experiments in a controlled environment. Physical Description: This plane appears to be an endless taiga stuck in a nearly perpetual state of winter (92% winter, 2.7% spring/summer/autumn) dominated by thirty miles (roughly forty-eight kilometers) long by fifteen miles (roughly twenty-four kilometers) wide by seven and a half miles (roughly twelve kilometers) high of mountain range. Temperatures range from −58 °F (−50 °C) in the winter, gradually warming to 68 °F (20 °C) in the height of summer, with climbs and falls during spring/autumn. Precipitative cycles are fueled by unknown sources, though they fall within the average ranges of a typical northern taiga. Besides the boreal conifers and mycorrhizas amongst their root structures, there exists no other wildlife within the taiga. Within the mountain there exists an extensive research facility; multiple levels of hallways kept at 68 °F (20 °C) with labeled storage units along the left walls and vacuum-sealed sliding drawers along the right walls, punctuated with starkly furnished rooms for studies to be conducted. Each level is dedicated to the seven kingdoms of life for now; Bacteria, Archaea, Protozoa, Chromista, Plantae, Fungi, and Animalia. As more kingdoms are discovered, additional levels will be added as needed. The last level is by far the largest as it will contain a simulated continent with changeable environmental variables (through the use of Alter Land) for testing purposes. The storage units look like narrow closets with a single door, approximately one foot wide and six feet high; in reality, they are extra-dimensional spaces once past the door, the size of the room accommodating the containment of ten thousand specimens each. Each door will have a name engraved for the group of specimens within, such as human, albacore tuna, silver birch, or morel, and the era in which they were collected. In this way, there will be multiple units of humans, for example, but will be divided by major changes of biology and/or levels of understanding. The sliding drawers will contain general notes and notes of interest, any special qualities and/or knowledge possibly possessed, about the group of specimens across from them in the current form of writing available; upon creation of the plane, the notes will be in a language only deities/avatars can read and transcribe. General notes will include biology, physiology, standard abilities, dietary requirements, reproduction methods and gestational periods, necessary care and upkeep for ensured health, and edibility for various species. Notes of interest may include technological end education levels, natural offensive and defensive abilities, or learned offensive and defensive abilities. For now, those study rooms consist of a chair, a table, a light-emitting orb with luminosity levels controlled by touch, and a wide bench for resting. As time progresses and technology upgrades, so will the furnishings. Laws of the Taiga: Upon entering the plane, one appears exactly ten miles south of the entrance of the facility within the mountain range, no matter what that entity is. Beyond the prolonged period of winter, the laws of physics and magics and/or psionic ability apply normally outside the facility with the exception that the living plant-life and fungal structures are incapable of damage, seemingly unbothered by the extreme cold; trees or branches that have fallen naturally behave as one would expect, able to be shaped or burned for heat. Any deity, avatar, or specifically chosen mortals (not necessarily heroes) may enter the facility by placing their hand, or equivalent, to the door. Laws of the Facility: The laws of physics apply normally, while the laws of magic and/or psionic ability are limited to only allow the resizing of one’s body or prolonged longevity, excluding the testing level where all laws apply themselves again. Time passes normally within the facility with the exception of sustainability requirements and the collected specimens; mortals do not require food, nor the need for waste relief, and the specimens are held in a state of timeless suspended animation until removed from the plane or placed within the last level for experimentation. [Research (Curiosity) 3/10] Create Monster (GUA Charge) – Primals: Some are small and easily contained while others can become large enough to become living natural disasters should they roam across clustered populations. Not actively aggressive towards mortals of flesh, that does not prevent the destruction that follows in their wake, with brushfires, floods, rockslides, and terrible winds causing devastation around them. They are, however, highly territorial when confronted by a Primal of different composition in particular. If mortals of flesh enter Primal domains, the Primals wiil first attempt to posture frighteningly, then forcefully drive the mortals away. Failing that, they will become actively hostile until only one party remains. In a fight between two Primals, they will clash until dominance is asserted, whether through retreat or dissolution of form. The Primals have no set form they take; they could assume the shape of an animal, a bipedal creature, or a more “natural” appearance such as a campfire, wave, small hill, or a breeze through tall grass. Should mortals learn how to tame beasts, all but the largest of Primals can be tamed, but not domesticated. Starting AP: 7 AP Spent: 3 Infusion Slot Used: 1 GUA Charge Spent: 1 AP Remaining: 4 Infusion Slots Remaining: 2/3 GUA Charge Remaining: 0 Progress: [Research (Curiosity) 3/10] Deity Info Ananya, The Opportunist, The Evolutionary Domains Portfolios Progress Perseverance Fortitude Claimed Adaptation Evolution Claimed Survival Life 5/10 Research Curiosity 3/10 Remaining Action Points: 4 AP Infusion Slots Remaining/Maximum: 2/3 Dogma Sanctity of Life with the understanding that the continuation of Life is held higher than individual lives; someone who ends a life to ensure many lives are saved is to be respected as much as the one who refuses to kill. A phenomenal mind is as valuable as a phenomenal body; do not discredit those that are physically weaker but are mentally stronger or vice versa, work together to achieve a more robust future. Progress is rarely straight forward; Life is full of twists and turns that requires changes in perspective to keep climbing. Stagnation is anathema to Life; your accomplishments are handholds for reaching ever further, not a bed to be rested upon. Improvise, Adapt, Overcome; learn from your failures and losses, accept them and move on, do not let them become what defines you. To those of deific status; Ananya appears as a multicolored tardigrade of colossal proportion. To everything else; Ananya appears as a slightly better than average creature of perceived superiority (including gender). For most humanoids, that would mean it would seemingly look like them, with positive racial traits being more pronounced without being idealistic.
  15. Wildheart and the Pact of Life As the first beat of the new Heart reverberated through the living parts of the world, its touch was felt by something more and less at the same time. One moment that thing was less than nothing, an undefined spark of pure possibility, the next it had been partially warped and shaped by the energies. Rykarth, for that is what it decided its name was, looked upon the sparsely tree-covered grasslands all around them. 'Him,' he corrected, for that is how he saw himself, and so it was. He could hear the rhythmic Song of the Heart, a mirror to his own. As he listened though, he could hear the subtle changes occurring. With each beat, it grew further off-key and harder to hear, until it was an echo he could only hear if he focused his will on it. It was there, different, yet still sung a siren song of sustainment and renewal. He didn't know what had caused the gradual shifting, but he would see the Heart's reach and influence extended until it or he were no more. So he swore with word and will. Vines and other plants around him reacted with explosive growth, fully engulfing him in a prison of vegetation. It gripped and wound around his limbs and body, holding him fast. A pull that went deeper than his body could be felt by the nascent god. To the sounds of ripping and tearing, he struggled one step at a time until he had freed himself from the tangled mass. Having proven his strength, the now empty mound began to wilt and decompose as it was reclaimed. Looking down, he found that he had not been unscathed by the encounter. The vines that had encircled his wrists still did so, as well as weaving loosely up his arms; the physical manifestation of his vow. The Pact had been made and so he was now bound. The Feral Pollen and the Waking of the World Young (no younger than he) was this world and already could he see there were those that existed to exploit the living bounty before them. Tender and unprepared to defend itself... "This... will not do." Rykarth's voice smoothly rumbled as he spoke. He had no desire to bend the wilds to his will, fearing he would become no better than them. The start of a solution came to him and he made his way to the nearest tree. When he arrived at the tree's base, he laid both hands upon the trunk. The vines on his arms moved to entwine and encircle it. Then he started to pour lightly directed power into it. The tree drank the power eagerly. It began to swell and grow rapidly in both height and girth. It was like hundreds of years of growth happened in the blink of an eye. Only when it stopped growing did it finally leaf out. They were large broad leaves, well suited to absorb every bit of the bright radiance that fell on it; adding it to the growing reservoir Rykarth was feeding. Soon it reached its limits and only then did the flow from him cease. He stepped back to watch the results of his efforts. The tree now stood nearly thrice the height of its tallest neighbor, and ten times that in the thickness at the base. He had not known a way to do all that needed doing, so he had left it to the world to decide. Before his eyes, buds broke all over the boughs of the tree, opening to deep red blossoms. The sweet scent that was put off attracted pollinators from all around, and they, along with the now-present wind, spread the seed of change... By the time any changes could be discerned, the great tree's flowers had wilted and fallen, followed shortly by the leaves. The power it had once contained was now spent. Not a fruit nor pod had been cast from its heights, for its legacy had already been scattered. The changes were subtle at first, thorns here, sticky sap there, or the fruits having a different flavor this year. Then someone swore they saw a tree moving. Not just waving in the wind, but walking on its roots. After that... came the unexplained disappearances, poisonings, wounded animals, and other various mishaps around plants... A Harsh New World Walking through the changing landscape, it was hard for Rykarth to keep the beginnings of a smile from his face. He could see the shifts as the Pollen did its work. He paused before a slowly blooming wall of vibrant flowers. Drawn in by the color and smell, he moved closer to get a better look... then the vines had his ankles. He couldn't help smiling now, "Clever little thing." Bending down, he soothed the plant until it released him. In good spirits, he continued to wander to see what else now awaited in the wilds... Blades of grass dueled for the choicest locations if they weren't leaning away from a passerby or fending off unsuspecting grazing animals. As hunger overrode caution, the more spirited animals learned to trample their meal before trying to eat it. Birds quickly learned which trees would tolerate their presence and which thought them snacks. Flowers offered up rich buffets and death traps to the living in equal measures. They, and the broad leaves, also served as a facade for the dangers that now lurked in the wilder worlds, as well as colorful lures for those unaware. Of the surprises for Rykarth, not the paralyzed deer being slowly smothered or the impaled boar being drained, none were greater than those found at the deepest parts of the wildlands. Individual plants had grown into megaflora, lording over others. In one instance, a humble blackberry bush now dwarfed nearby trees in size and scope. With thorns nearly a foot long, it could threaten even the toughest hides. The First Rites Having walked and walked, Rykarth soon reached a rocky beach. Fresh scars marred his bare flesh after a lively encounter with a disrespectful tree. He could cause them to heal, but the pain was a good lesson for now. His contemplations were interrupted by a group of lesser humanoids fleeing from the protective canopy to the rocks near the shore. Several appeared to have minor wounds or worse. Being much taller and thicker of frame than those he had run into, as well as wholly different in form than their progenitor, there was clear hesitation on seeing him approach. Be it desperation, bravery, or just plain curiosity, the Sealkies stood their ground. When they sensed a likeness to the power of their origin, they erred to deference in the interaction. Picking a suitable stone, Rykarth sat and asked them for their tale. It was one of winds, storms, and loss. Their little vessel had been dashed upon the rocks. More than twice their number had made it to land, but they had slowly perished on this hostile and unknown land. They had no tools to hunt with and the very trees vexed them in their attempts to make any or forage for something to eat. Not being a spiteful god, Rykarth produced a handful of berries for the group to renew themselves on. Their leader stopped the others in caution, fearing another poisonous batch. He gave a warm chuckle at the actions, plucking one up and eating it himself, "Eat, you will need your strength for what comes next." Even with the ominous words, it was harder this time, but their leader held them back, allowing only one to risk themselves. He excused himself and disappeared while they waited. Hours later, a large buck slung over his shoulder, he returned to the minimal excuse of a camp. The Sealkies were passed out, having gorged themselves. No sentry had been posted and a couple of ambitious bushes had made it to the edge of the rocks. They were probing ahead of them but re-rooted and became still at his approach. Roused from their food-induced slumbers, the group followed Rykarth as he led them into the woods. Their eyes were fixed on the buck, eager for a bit of the meat. They came to a break in the canopy, the open area brightly lit by the sun above. Finding the centermost point, he looked up at the sky and then nodded. His instructions were simple, "Dig." It wasn't something they were exactly adept at, but this deep into the dangerous forest, who were they to argue? As the Sealkies worked, Rykarth had his own tasks to be about. The buck was held by a cooperative tree, draining the blood into a large prepared leaf bowl. Another leaf bowl was used to collect the sap from a tree, and a final one held sweet nectar from a few flowers. Darkening skies heralded the coming storm. Tired from the exertion of digging a small pit by hand and stone, the Sealkies hopefully sheltered alongside Rykarth. Small servings of the drained meat were shared with the mortals before the remaining carcass was tossed to the roots of the tree to the group's disappointment. As the rain started to slow down, their shoulders sagged when they realized with some despair their shallow pit was now filled with water. The god's reassuring chuckle put them at ease, "You did well, come." They were then instructed to bathe. As the group uncertainly cleaned themselves, Rykarth brought forth the makeshift bowls. When they exited the pool, each was anointed three times under carefully intoned words, "Purified by rain. Marked by the blood of the Beast, sap of the Father, nectar of the Mother." Once each had been covered, he handed each a yellow gourd. Their leader questioned the fruit, having lost one of their numbers to its toxic flesh. "They are well aged. Now eat and we will see if it will sing to you." What followed was three days within a trance-like haze, as each did their best to survive the forest trying to eat them. In the end, two made it... run nearly to collapse, at the edge of their endurance, the Song of the Heart came to them and they wept... AP Actions Create Greater Utility Artifact [5 AP - Law (Pact) 5/10] - Pact of Life [Create Life (Monsters) - Life (Vitality)] -A divine oath made to the Terrortoma (referred to as the Heart) made physically manifest by vines turned tethers. -Claim the epithet 'Wildheart'. Create Life (Monsters) [1 (Base) -1 (Pact of Life) = 0] - Feral Pollen -A pollen that grants animal-like awareness to even the smallest seedling and all future progeny, as well as a higher degree of animation and lethality. Anything dealing with plants is now dangerous. This puts average animal life at a disadvantage. Examples: Grasses become longer, stronger, tougher, and sharper. Fruits become either poisonous or are used to lure in nutrients. Trees are tougher, resistant, and have various forms of attack (slam with their branches, grapple with their roots, thorns, sap, etc). +Bless/Curse [1 AP - Law (Pact) 6/10] Spread the Feral Pollen to the far winds, allowing it to bond with any and all plants. It is replicated through the pollen/spore of plants. Create Concept (Mythical Concepts) [4 AP + 1 Infusion - Law (Pact) 10/10] - Druidism -A set of ideals, rites, and practices for forming bonds and/or taming the savage plant/animal life so a race/society might survive in this newly deadly paradise. -Sealkies taught for free upon creation 2 Sealkies gained for the flock
  16. THE PARABLE OF MASKS Ikzipixi, they named themselves. That was the first thing they knew, and the last thing, and the only thing. Who were they? What were they? When where why how? Experimentally, they folded and unfolded themselves, in and out and upside around, fractals on fractals on fractals on - say, what was that? That was an interesting shape; they decided to make a zillion of it. Lenses quivered and bubbled as Ixipikzi’s manifold compound eyes focused, newfound vision revealing the second ever thing they knew: there was a big bright thing up there in the blackness. How new! How exciting! They willed themselves towards it, and then there it was beneath them. The big bright thing was, as it turned out, a bunch of small bright things, wriggling and slithering and rustling and shining, bright thread all knotted up into so many intriguing shapes. Ikzipixi decided to take a few for themselves to see what they were like. First they were a snake, rustling through the grass with plates of shining abalone chitin and hundreds of little legs, but they must have gotten something wrong with the length or the shape or the sound of the hiss, as the other snakes did not seem to enjoy their presence. Then they were a tree, tall and solid with dozens of long thin limbs waving and twitching in the air, but that shape was quite dull after a bit. Then they were a beetle, then a shrub then a rodent then a blade of grass then the tall bearded man with the helmet sitting in front of the cave. That one was interesting; he didn’t look like anything else here at all. They strode towards the figure, their five-armed form tall and stringy, every inch of them hidden beneath haphazard colorful silks and plates of gleaming carapace armor. Words spilled from the eyeholes of their hollow helmet, syllables strung together with silkworm strands. “Hi. Hello! Yes. Salutation? You’re welcome. How may I help You? Goodbye. Lovely weather, Isn’t it? Perfect day To do some Being. Do you have A name? It’s polite To have a Name. Could you g i v e i t t o m e ?” --------- The resting figure was perplexed at the appearance of Ilkzipixi, their figure was sad and it inspired pity inside of the tall figure. Pointing to a nearby rock he gave a nod saying with welcoming pride “I would be glad to if you would but offer me yours and rest with me for some time; as you appear even more weary of the mind then I Ywain after my labors here.” --------- The motley figure expressed their approval with a vigorous nod of the head, made a deft movement that wasn’t, and then Ywain was looking at Ixipikzi and Ixipikzi was looking at Ywain. “...Hm?” Ixipikzi blinked, once. Had the world always been this way around? Had their memories always gone frontside-back? There was an irritation, an ill-fitness, that they could not quite articulate. Something had been taken from them. Something had been given to them. They had given themselves to something; they had taken themselves from something. They rolled its familiar-yet-unfamiliar shape on their tongue; a new name and an old name, at once both and neither. How perplexing, how intriguing, to see a stranger in one’s reflection! Their form suddenly felt altogether too stiff; they rolled their shoulders, their knees, their elbows, their fingers and thumbs and arms and legs, joints popping. They decided to add an extra limb or three, for good measure. They tilted their head at the figure on the nearby rock. A stranger? A friend? A self? A husk? They were all not so different in the end, no? --------- Ywain was perplexed at the sight of Ixipikzi’s transformation, their mind unable to quite grasp at much as it felt too open and flighty; their thoughts drifting away before he could complete them till… he brought them under his firm control and pondered what had occurred. Proud Ywain’s five arms tried to cross over in contemplation of the mechanism to what occurred but the odd number of arms made that unreasonable, so he used two hands to knot a cord around his arm so tight as to cut into even his metallic flesh and used his other great arms to rip the arm off his form. To a perplexingly small amount of shock blue and white sparks could be seen underneath instead of blood, oozing out like static before the stump on his body began to run red with proper blood. The severed arm continued to bleed those blue and white sparks, which caused him to cast it away from himself, to the world he looked upon after he wove this sun. He quickly went on to cast aside the silks and plates (though took note of them, the idea of covering his form beyond his head coming to mind now) before taking a long sigh of relief. Realizing that he was being looked upon, Ywain gave a nod. “How peculiar Ixipikz, what was that just now?” it was also just now that Ywain was realizing that Ixipikz’s form might be a mockery of his own, but he put that infuriating thought to the side for now. --------- “You Give me yours, I give You mine; you give Me mine, I give you yours. You give You mine, I Give me yours. Me, mine, you, Yours, us, theirs, Everybody’s, nobody’s. A finger That points at itself; that’s what A name is, Right? It can’t point anywhere Else without pointing at Itself. I point at you, You point At me, we both point at a Reflection. All the same Whether backwards or frontwards. How Do you decide which is Which? You don’t; there Isn’t one. I love that joke, I just made it Up. It’s my favorite. Do you like Jokes?” Ikzipixi leaned forward, giggling. --------- “If you would give yourself a moment to compose your words perhaps I would understand this better; nonetheless… I believe I have obtained my answer. You see this as a joke? I struggle to grasp the humor involved, as it only pains the heart and brings no levity.” Ywain said with clear irritation creeping into his voice “I have much to contemplate as I rest on the meaning of what it means to be and the power a name has to express this.” he finished with a wave of his hand before closing his eyes and began to contemplate this revelation while ignoring the other god. A truth had been revealed to him, so proud Ywain holds back his fury in thanks. --------- “Everything is funny From the Right angle. That is Why eyes are the best Shape To have, because you Can see so many angles and so Many angles can see you.” Ikzipixi flexed their limbs and multiple eyes snapped open along their lengths, looking up and down and all around. “Though hearts Are also very good. Did You know a cockroach has 13 Hearts? It would be Very hard to Feel pain in all Of them at once. Cockroaches tell very Good jokes.” Ikzipixi sat upon their rock a little longer, deciding to try “contemplation” for themselves, but they quickly grew bored. How was sitting and thinking supposed to teach you anything that wasn’t already in your head? All the new things were in other heads; that’s what made them new and not old. Satisfied with this logic, Ixipikzi decided to be a grasshopper and sprang off in search of other pursuits, leaving the one called Ywain both much the same as they had found him, and yet not remotely the same at all. AP Actions Create Legendary Concept [4AP + 1 IS] - The Fool's Art A joke whispered by beasts and fools and little crawling things, about a meeting of two kings, and the gifts that both gave and neither received. The Fool's Art is the practice of manipulating names; stealing them, giving them, changing them, hiding them, finding them, breaking them, melding them. A name, the Art teaches, is nothing more nor less than a signpost; a distinguishing marker of identity and particularity, which memory and emotion, power and magic, all "point" to. Almost all things of course have names, and most have several, ranging from the general (rock, tree, ocean, sealkie) to the personal (Alice, Bob, Joseph) to the titular (high priest, king, doctor, lord), and many more. Something with no name cannot be called to, cannot be referred to; difficult to notice, difficult to remember. The Fool's Art simply alters these signs, changes the places they point, the identities their gravity forms. Steal a name, steal an identity. Gain a name, gain an identity. While only an act of divinity could fully transpose one being for another, the Fool's Art can alter, redirect or snatch away many aspects of identity, ranging from memory to appearance to personality to relationships to authority to obligation; anything that uses a name as its anchor. The Fool's Art generally deals in specificity; the more specific a name, obviously the more useful it is in pointing towards a specific person or entity. Names like "rock" or "fire" are nigh-impossible to truly steal or alter; they are too universal, used by too many. The most one could do is to steal the name "rock" away from a particular rock, thus tricking it (and everything else) into thinking it is not a rock. The closeness of a name to the identity it belongs to is also relevant; not much will be tied to a disliked nickname or an old and discarded name. Mortal use of the Fool's Art usually requires certain implements and reagents, depending on the culture in which it is found, ranging from worked iron to salt to mirrors to bits of paper. Some creatures may use elements of it naturally, with no need for such external tools. Universally, however, it is tied to language and wordplay; the exploitation of imprecision, the use of vagueness and double meaning to cut and retie the rules and bonds of a particular name. "May I have your name?" is a common such example. Its practice requires no particular magicka or energy source; it is only the ritual action that matters. [Identity (Names) 4/10] 12AP - 4 = 8AP 3 IS - 1 = 2 IS
  17. The Silence Inside Sowatuz laid curled up embracing the book in talons as their shell sheltered them from the business of the gods above. But sounds and heat and the vibrations of the earth would not let them rest in silent contemplation. For before the pipping there was nothing, a state that very much agreed with Sowatuz. Nothing held no concerns, no strangeness. It just was. And now, so was Sowatuz. They threw their head forward in instead creating the hole that they knew would lead them from the safety of the Nothing into the First World. Emerging from the egg, Sowatuz unfurled their great claiming wings and took to the sky to see what had been made. Already others had littered the world, creating and recreating in their rush to make. No time for observation. A much smaller owl landed back on the egg, looking at the now empty interior and the large ragged hole from which it had emerged. Using their beak to pluck down from their own chest, down that regrew constantly as it was removed, Sowatuz filled the egg with their own softest feathers. The poor creations of this world may need a place where they can hide from the Everything that Was. The down filled the egg, now the hardness of the rocks around it. And then it disappeared, falling over the newly created plane like snow. Sowatuz could hear it float down, clustering and making resting places through the whole existance. A soft melancholy sound was made, Sowatuz's first sound. They stepped forward and fell back into the First World. A sanctuary had been built. Now it was time to watch. AP Actions Weave Plane (3AP+1 Infusion) - The Hollow: The Hollow is a large almost empty plane devoid of light except that which people bring with them. The vast ground is littered with scraped depressions, small woven piles of wood and burrows. Weaving through the surface of the plane are large fissures with the cliff sides similarly filled with cavities. Some of these sites contain the down from Sowatuz themself, while others have been long forgotten. While in this plane those who lack sight, through darkness, blindness or another condition have a sense not only of where their body is in the space, but of where other peoples and objects are. The more one grows comfortable with this sense the larger it grows. [Darkness (Solitude) 3/10] Create Portal (2 AP) - The Shell: A remnant of Sowatuz's hatching the shell is a rough porous outcropping from the ground in the center of the first land, with a large hole a bit larger than that of a grown man offering a way inside. This hole is the passage between the First World and The Hollow. Once entered one drops into a random portion of the Hollow. To exit one must merely step forward in darkness with knowledge that the hole is in front of them. [Darkness (Solitude) 5/10] 12 AP - 5 AP = 7 AP 1/3 Infusions used Deity Info Sowatuz, The Burning Truth, The Winged Flame Domains Portfolios Progress Fire Destruction Claimed Lore Secrets Claimed Darkness Solitude 5/10 Remaining Action Points: 7 AP Infusion Slots Remaining/Maximum: 1/3 Dogma To Create is to Waste - Take care to use only what is needed To Record is to Preserve - Document all that you observe To Destroy is to Recover - Dispose of all that is no longer needed Sowatuz takes two major forms, the first being that of humanoid owl, large flaming wings and talon like hands and feet. This form is usually depicted carrying a book that is examined on a frequent basis. The other form is that of a normal owl with wings of wing.
  18. Breathe Out Hesha came to be with the first joined effort. Or came to awareness. The exact state was immaterial; now she is, and she looked over the world. Land, and land, and land. Life, and life, and life. All good. All connected. But not all aware of their connection. Well then, that is her work. Begin with the most stubborn and breathe outwards from there. Moving across the world as a warm, wet wind, Hesha circled a small hill on the first continent to be born. Once, twice, three times, and then went on her way. After she left, the hill trembled, lightly. It shivered again, and then shook, and then lifted into the air, revealing sacs of gas underneath to buoy it upwards and thick rootlike tendrils trailing down to dig deep into the earth. Where the hillock left, there was a patch of bare, slightly grey earth. Hesha chose a few more hillocks and a patch of grass on the first continent, a number of rubber tree patches and a stretch of ready-made road from the second, and a few sections from each island in the archipelago. Each bit of land floated on the air of Hesha's movements, tracing across the sea to land upon a new continent. Once there, the roots dug deep, the soil settled, and new plants grew; if all went well, two bits of land eventually lifted from the ground, seeking new lands to rest and grow. Hesha paused, watching the islands float through the air, and considered. They were good, they connected, but they were lonely. They needed friends, or foes--or both at once. And the deep, pulsing bit of flesh was still unconnected... It was in flying over the first continent again that Hesha learned what to do. She discovered a creature, crawling on the ground with a rounded shell, curling into a ball at any sign of danger. It was too small to be of much notice, but she breathed over it, into it. It grew, slowly, and sought out the living islands, driven by an instinct yet unformed. Once it found a living land, it made its home there, eating weeds and plants that took up many nutrients and eventually driving off predatory animals that might smell food beneath the layers of earth. It lived in harmony, and more came and did the same. Until the first grew large enough, or enough came together. Then their instinct changed, and they burrowed into their home, forcing it to fly before it was ready. Its flight was unsteady, uneven, pained--and when it reached the deep sea, the creatures within it punctured its air sacs, sending it into the watery depths. Once they ate their fill, the now-large creatures foudn themselves suited to the sea, and wandered towards sources of life, eating and fighting what they could until they, too, were devoured. Hesha swirled happily, letting out a sigh that was herself. That was much better; all connected, for now. AP Actions 12 AP -1 AP: Create Monsters (Fauxlands): For most of their life cycle, Fauxlands seem to be unusually fertile patches of wilderness on any continent; if a person or creature digs deep enough, however, they would discover a thick, leathery hide stretched over blubbery fat and thick veins. Fauxlands feed by absorbing nutrients from the soil beneath them, transferring much of these nutrients to the plants that grow atop them. Once a Fauxland reaches a certain size, they divide in two, and then both new Fauxlands inflate special sacs with a lighter-than-air substance and take to the sky. Once in the air, a Fauxland rides the wind until it passes over a new patch of land; once there, it lands and digs in its feelers, becoming part of the landscape once more. (Travel (Migration) 1/10) -1 AP: Bless/Curse (Crosswinds): Following Hesha's looping flight over the world, the First World now has a series of gentle crosswinds that blow steadily but insistently around and over the entire planet. These crosswinds are the primary means that Fauxlands use to travel from one continent to another, and also occasionally intensify and extend weather effects. (Travel (Migration) 2/10) -1 AP: Bless/Curse (Invasive Species): Anything on top of a Fauxland when it is ready to migrate gets carried along with it to its new home. Many creatures fall off, starve due to lack of resources, or die in other ways on the trip, but a few animals and many of the plants survive. These creatures then find themselves on a new continent, with new predators and prey; the effect is small as of yet, but could grow more intense. (Travel (Migration) 3/10) -1 AP: Create Monsters (Ball Gardeners/Ocean Crawlers): Although they look like two species at first glance, Ball Gardeners and Ocean Crawlers are two parts of the life cycle of a single insect, which resembles a pill bug. Beginning their life only a few inches long, Ball Gardeners feel an instinctive drive to seek out Fauxlands and make their homes atop them, eating diseased or dead plants (and thus gaining the "gardener" part of their name). After growing to the size of a housecat, Ball Gardeners begin to more actively defend their home, driving off predators and protecting certain plants and animals. Once ten or more Ball Gardeners reach the size of a large dog, their instincts drive them to burrow down into the Fauxland itself, forcing the creature into flight. They then kill the Fauxlands while it is over the ocean and eat their former home as they drift to the ocean's floor, often cannibalizing each other in this process as well. The surviving creatures--now known as "Ocean Crawlers"--begin seeking out living material on the ocean floor, which they consume voraciously, continuing to grow until they themselves are killed. (Travel (Migration) 4/10) 12 AP - 4 AP = 8 AP Remaining.
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