[centre][img]http://i.imgur.com/KtaFYg7.png[/img]
[colour=black][i][b]The Timeless One, The Celestial Above, Vicegerent of Fate, Guardian of the Timeline, Master of Creation, Lord of Time[/b][/i]
Level 2 God of Creation (Time)
9 Might 1 Freepoint
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[hider=Summary]Vowzra analyses the other gods
Vowzra adds to the Codex of Creation during the Shattering Disunity (Level up to Level 2, 4 Might removed)
Vowzra Creates Ants by directing Slough's first Will - ants are in fact the very first creations
Vowzra takes the very first ant to emerge
Vowzra levels up to Level 3 using 4 Might
1 Might 1 Freepoint remaining[/hider][/centre]

They were all so impatient. All in such a rush - as though Time were fleeing from them, escaping, never to be had or seen or heard from again. They were so...short-sighted. He could not blame them, it was their nature, it was as Fate willed. It was a necessity.

Hanging where he had been, utterly still and not taking note of any of them, Vowzra waited upon the command of Fate. There was no need to hurry, everything was as it was meant to be, all that would happen would happen in its due course: even this Timeless pre-existence did not escape Time. All had been accounted for, all had been calculated, all was known with utter certainty. All that remained for them was to decide upon the certainty they desired, and that would make all the difference.

The wooden body of The Timeless One, after what may have been eons, finally moved. He moved with absolute purpose and certainty, but there was anything unnatural or mechanical about it. His was a fluid, completely harmonious motion, almost too perfect yet made more so by the simple fact that...it was not. Perfect imperfection, the acceptance of oneself in all one's flawed beauty, and thus attaining the only perfection possible: perfection in imperfection. It was only to be expected of one who had realised the glory and horror and crippling terror of Time. He had dwelled in those Hells for incomprehensible lengths, he had been filled to the brim, gasping, screaming, begging, pleading, grasping for relief. Any relief. He had drank of the purest waters until his essence overflowed with the unadulterated perfection. He had Seen with an Eye; watched each and every one of them fall, crumble and, ultimately, Die. But he had also grasped the ultimate truth, the chosen certainty; his road, his path and trail. They could do as they wished, build a world of wonders or a pit of despair, but his singular duty was to guard and guide them all through the narrow passages and dangerous hallways of the Timeline, and on to the ultimate safety. It would be a thankless job, he knew, he would be hated and despised by many. But ultimately, Vowzra did not really care what they thought.

First moved his piercing, voids for Eyes, then his head of bark - upon it his crown of branches, twigs and leaves. Then his body slowly, purposefully, with utter certainty and cosmic design, turned. And he viewed them all and allowed his essence to See into the infinite certainties that were, are and shall: that were not, are not, and shall not.

His penetrating gaze fell first upon the [color=black]Eternal One[/color], who had held on when all had let go and who had reached out before any [i]thought[/i] to let go. He had willingly, stubbornly, bravely and foolishly chosen the long and painful path, and he had withstood the utmost grief, the ultimate anguish and the mightiest wrath. [color=black][i]Woe is yours, bearer of scars, whose grief will light the nights with stars.[/i][/color]
He knew this one would be a friend, and he also knew that it would be a foe - thus was it Fated, so shall it be - but he also knew (and without a doubt this was, is and will be true) that in the end, it would be more friend than foe. But bitter, bitter when he was a foe and a mighty, mighty friend when he was so. Vowzra neither approved nor disapproved of the Eternal One's actions, though he treated with utmost contempt and disdain his belief that he was lord over the gods. If Vowzra would direct himself to any, then it was towards Fate; but Vowzra did not direct himself to any, only Time was master over him, and a worthy master was He.

Then his eyes shifted and pierced the depths of darkness to see the ones who slithered and slunk in there. There hid the [color=black]Deceitful One[/color], who only sought, worshiped and adored his own entertainment and enjoyment. Though he cloaked his himself in darkness, his purpose was all too clear - did he think to hide from the all-seeing Eyes of the Seer? This one's words would hold the might of force and sway the stalwart from their course, his words would be calamity and discord, faithless-once-faithfuls and honourable-dishonourables. And when his tongue willed, he would enforce union on those who should never have united let alone divorce. Such was the strength of his deceit, the weak would find themselves victors and the strong, despite clear victory, would be most certain of their own defeat - and of what use was strength when the heart had already lost?

Then his gaze pierced another one skulking in the dark, this one attempted to flee his blistering gaze. It was an essence teeming with unrestrained [color=black]Trickery[/color]. He felt that it was burdened with a great pain, though clearly the pain was no longer in existence and could no longer trouble it - would it thank Fate? The ungrateful tended to forget fast. Would this one be a forgetful ingrate? Would he serve with the Lord of Time or would he endeavour towards uselessness and idleness and criminal aspirations? He could already see the certainties that could be, would this one heed his basest call - would he steal, severe, cut and consume a divine soul? Or would he rise above the vile instinct ingrained within him which strove to lure, to con and to beguile? Even now he taught Life mischief. The Eye of Time would watch and wait, and act accordingly as Fate commanded. 

And there was the one in [color=black]Shadows Clad[/color]. There was no denying his chaotic nature, but it was a caring chaos, neither good nor bad. It was, perhaps, the caring chaos of a true brother - not that Vowzra would know, these gods were his siblings by name alone, there was no evidence of any connection beyond the fact that they had come together in Time and Space. But this Shadowy One had a voice that whispered, ‘defy me...defy me if you dare’. His act of vengeance upon the Codex of Creation was proof enough of that. Wherever there was shadow and darkness, the Shadowy One would not be far behind. Darkness would scramble before him and would trail behind, and above him all light would die and below him the darkness would seep. But moreover, this was the king of all uncertainty - look how he, first and foremost, gifted Life with ambiguity. Was it not fitting that this dark and shadowy being should be the one to fashion fear? Vowzra had no doubt that they would clash, it was inevitable; even now the Lord of Time could feel the Fate and the safety of the Timeline willing him to act, to qualify what the Shadowy One had wrought. This one in Shadows Clad would very soon discover that Time was in patience absolute, and that it was swift and thorough when the moment of action dawned.

Thus were the ones who wore the cloak of darkness. Once more, Vowzra shifted his ancient head of oak and Saw the most blessed of his siblings: those who were radiance manifest.

There was the [color=black]Radiant One[/color] who shone with the light of an Ancient Sun, though he did not yet emanate any light. It seemed the Cycle had not yet begun, but soon, very soon, it would. Vowzra Saw it and it was certainty most absolute. Vowzra watched knowing as he first drew Life back from the Gates of Death with a cosmic arm, a light and sundering breath. He would not know it, he would not even give the act much consideration, but the Radiant One had brought Life back to Life and thus had lifted the first, and, perhaps, greatest, strife. 
[color=black][i]Glory is yours, bearer of Fated scars, whose sacrifice will bring forth nights and stars. Weep not to lose that which is transitory, a mighty Fate does lie in store for thee. Have patience and let not the distant chest deceive you into thinking, 'I am by Fate oppressed.'[/i][/color]

And the other was the [color=black]Pure One[/color]. She saw with an eye unlike the Eye of Time, her conceptions were warped beyond measure and sickly, horrifically, awry. She had no conception of the Greater Order, she saw the perils of Perpetual Chaos, but she was blind to the pitfall of Perpetual Order. Only where neither existed could Ultimate Order exist, the finest balance, the Greatest Timeline and Truest Fate. He would fight her sometimes and join her sometimes, but she would find him always with Time and Fate, and thus always with Ultimate Order, always guiding them toward the safety of the Dignified Fate. 
How quick and violent was she when she felt that all was amiss, but it pleased Vowzra to see that she occupied her place in the world so completely. There was no place for the faint-hearted if it was with Chaos that one sparred. He would watch over her carefully, protect her even though she be unaware, and he would guide her in due Time.

From there, his Eye turned upon the tarnished ones and spread them before his view.

Towards the Execrable Chaos Vowzra felt an utterly unfounded familiarity. He felt a transcendent connection with this one. He did not particularly like him at all, but it was more the gladness of feeling a familiar spirit after being long at loss.  Vowzra was pleased that one such as this was Fated to be here, he would serve Fate and Time most loyally, even as he led his crusade upon all order and harmony in existence. However, his state of being, four essences rather than one, meant that the entire Timeline could change completely as each awakened. While the Execrable Chaos did indeed serve Fate and Time with greatest constancy, it was also the one whom Time allowed the strangest...[i]flexibility[/i]. Yes, this was an important one, it only did as Fate commanded and would ultimately be an ally in guiding them all towards the Dignified Fate. Even where their Fates clashed, Vowzra knew that he would ever hold the Execrable Chaos in greatest regard of all the gods, for it was he alone who did the will of Fate as faithfully, though ignorant of it, as Vowzra.

Turning from the Execrable Chaos, Vowzra set his eyes upon another with whom he felt a deep, unfounded familiarity. There was something about her, but he could not quite put his proverbial finger on it. He could not say he felt any particular warmth or had a special liking to her, but he felt that there was a connection, a link that his mind was dancing around but incapable of comprehending. It did not please him at all to know with certainty that there was knowledge he once had, but was now beyond his reach. It further aggrieved him to see that her future was very blurred. He could not see whether she would be a valuable ally or not, one who would stick unswervingly to the command of Fate and Time, or one who would have to be combated and ultimately neutralised - for the safety of all. It was often so that the most beautiful shells hid within them the ugliest of realities. Even now she seemed to chase after nothing more than her own delight - her's was an acquired purpose, it would seem, she flowed with those who brought her joy and happiness, who gave her purpose. It was a fascinating existence, even her addition to the Codex, though critical, was not given for any other reason than potential entertainment and fun  - he would have to watch her carefully, but he knew that ultimately, no matter how he tried to guide her to truth, he could not bring her joy or happiness: he could only offer a grave and cosmic purpose.

The third of the trio was a force of nature, the [color=black]Force of Change[/color]. This one, like the Execrable Chaos, was also a tool of Fate; a necessity of existence. Time demanded Change and Change was in need of Time, all things changed with Time, and all things required Time in order that they may change. Time was the vehicle which carried Change, and without it, Change was nothing but a stagnant moment. The two were intrinsically dependent upon one another, but ah! How different was the vehicle from the passenger. Vowzra wondered to what extent the Force of Change would embrace his nature - would he be content with the same friends, the same allies forever and ever, the same bonds? Or would he even at that most personal level seek to manifest Change. What was Change if its friends and allies were always the same, its enemies always known and unchanging, its love constant and its hate too.
Whether he chose to manifest change even at that basic level or not (was it truly a choice for a Force such as he? Was it not simply in its nature? Who knew what Fate would dictate) there was no denying the brute power of this Force. Were it not for War, none would have been a match for the unsuppressed power of Change and Air. Vowzra watched with an Eye as the Force of Change blessed the Codex with the ability to grow and evolve of its own volition - independence from the gods, the capability to [i]Change[/i]. And unwittingly, he had also obeyed the command of Fate, for his gale forced Life upon the Book of the Gods, and so Life was written within it also. How wondrous a thing it was to watch the Agents of Fate at work, though they were ignorant of their supreme role, while you yourself were aware. It was an honour, but also a hefty burden which the Seer did bear.

Vowzra Saw as the one without a form took shape. He took the shape of a word. Yet it was in no language that could be read, understood, conceived, spoken or written and simultaneously it was in every language that was, is or could ever be; that was not, is not and could never be. He was the [color=black]Demon[/color], the one against whom all things could be scrutinised and judged. Against his ugliness beauty would be known, and ugliness too. Against his evil would good be revealed. Against his destruction would construction be realised. All that was would be weighed against all he was and would thus be known, realised, understood and ultimately treasured. He too would be treasured, for he was their one constant variable. He whom all things could be judged against. That made his purpose clear in the Eyes of Time; but the Timeless One knew all too well that with this one would come many a clash. Ultimately, Vowzra was a most caring sibling. He had but their best interests at heart, and if the best interests of the whole meant the destruction of one of them, then the whole was worthy of sacrifice. All sacrifice was worthy if the Dignified Fate was attained, for the Dignified Fate was in their best interests, and Vowzra had nothing but their best interests at heart. He was a caring sibling.

The [color=black]Forger of the Words[/color] was the next to fall under Time's pitiless gaze. But what he Saw there was not the small, feminine body that the goddess had decided to adopt - he saw a great and mighty dragon, a beast from the great beyond who had been sundered by the powers of Fate and the Terrible Adjudicator. Vowzra felt a very strong attraction towards this one, but immediately curbed the 'emotion' and filled himself with utter disdain. He was Time manifest, there was no bias in his essence, he pitied none and had no mercy, he shattered and destroyed all things, and before his iron gaze even the greatest pacts withered to dust and fell away: betrayed, forgotten and, eventually, non-existent. No pact or bond or promise or word could ever stand the test of Time, he would watch and see if this one could stand before the gaze and not wither...and if she could, then...

There, in the nothingness of pre-existence, was another Creator god. But unlike Vowzra, this one was drowned in delusions and ideals of perfection. It was broken, a [color=black]Crippled One[/color]. Vowzra thought he pitied it, but the more he thought on it the more he realised that it was less pity and more a desire to guide it, to make it see the light, to fix its brokenness and heal its great defect. It was a fellow Creator god, after all, and he owed it that small favour. Time would work on it, would influence it and guide and protect it, assuage its pain and agony and eventually rend the flawed ideals from it and replace them with truth, perfect truth. [color=black]Think not of that crack as an eye, but as a manifest, primal cry. You have a wound upon your face which none but Truth can e'er erase. I shall come for you when Time is right and give you true ideals and Sight.[/color]

The next one was...unnatural. Utterly, incomprehensibly unnatural. It defied, [i]defiled[/i], nature, Time and the beauty inherent therein. It had a most corrupt and tainted conception of beauty, all unnatural, all...[i]ugly[/i]. Vowzra could not understand the purpose of the [color=black]Deformed Flesh[/color], but he did not doubt the wisdom and foresight of Fate. He would just correct the deformities she spewed wherever he could and ensure that her unnatural and deviant ways did not threaten the Timeline and the Dignified Fate. Perhaps he would be able to find the source of the deformity and correct it, but for the moment, all he could see of this one was utter, pure and unadulterated strangeness, and [i]otherness[/i] which did not fit in...it reminded him of a certain place...a certain torment and Hellish Suffering...
[color=black]Though the pain cause all to scream and thresh, your taint will be cleansed, oh Deformed Flesh.[/color]

The next was not dissimilar from the last, but they could not be so different. Here was nothing unnatural, there was no eldritch aura or sickness or deformity. Here was beauty and woven tales and dreams, and here was beauty in joy and beauty in tragedy. Here was one who, they she little knew it, could glimpse of the Ultimate Order and greatest beauty. This one knew the offensiveness of Perpetual Order and the hideousness of Perpetual Order and strove to weave tales where there was neither; she called it Beauty, he called it Imperfect Perfection, Perfection in Imperfection, the Ultimate Order and the path to the Dignified Fate.
He would keep an eye on this weaver of dreams and beauty, and he knew that she would be most critical for the safety of the Timeline.

Life had Died. Vowzra watched it, and so too did Fate and the Terrible Adjudicator. Within its cocoon, Life was Dead, and all the others realised the great horror of the loss and they tried to fix it. But Life was Dead. The Lord of Time would have chanted a eulogy, that all of pre-existence may tremble and weep, but there was no need. Eulogies did not benefit the Dead, and the Living had no need for more suffering than living afforded. Life was Dead, 'No motion has she now, no force; She neither hears nor sees; Roll’d round in earth’s diurnal course With rocks, and stones, and trees.' What lay there within the cocoon was not Life, what was in there was simply the shadow of Life, what was in there was simply what was Fated to be. [color=black]No glory have you here, oh Life, you bloomed to Death and Strife.[/color]

Death was Alive. What great irony this was, that Life should be Dead and Death should be Alive. But it was Fate, it was necessary and it was as the Timeline dictated. The dance of Life and Death had begun, and as though to prove their ultimate harmony and greatest tragedy and utmost balance, each had consumed the other. Thus was it Fated, and so it was.

War had intelligence and calm, but it saw with an eye unlike the Eye of the Seer, and it understood but little. It was a shame that a god who understood the long fight and the short fight could not understand the short-term tumults of Order and Chaos and the Ultimate Order. He would be one to act for 'justice' wherever and whenever he could, but he would not understand that the Ultimate Order demanded that, to bring Dignified Fate, short-term conceptions of 'justice', 'order' and 'chaos' - and much more - would have to be put to the side. Vowzra knew this one to be an intelligent one, however, and he knew he would surprise him, and he knew he would ally with him much. But the ultimate question was: would he know the Ultimate Order, and would he enforce it and guard it just as he had guarded the Codex and the cocoon of Dead Life? [color=black]Time shall unveil All.[/color]

The Eyes of Time pierced the cloud of the Mind, the one within whom the Codex would find rest. That was not as it should have been. It was not the right of the Mind to host the Codex of Creation; she had transgressed greatly. She had taken what was rightfully the responsibility of Time.
'We have ordained that Time safeguard the Co-'
'No,' the Vicegerent of Fate interrupted Fate's words to him, 'I shall allow her the weighty burden. I shall allow her to explore it, her endless curiousity to delve into it, and I shall watch her descend into rage and hopelessness as all meaning evades her, as her great mind fails to grasp it, comprehend it. Such is the punishment of those who transgress against Time. Should it be Fated that I have 'mercy' upon one so obscene, then I shall be merciful...'
Fate did not respond to this indignant tirade, nor did the Terrible Adjudicator deem it necessary to speak, and the Lord of Time watched the Timeline shift ever so slightly before him. All was well, all was as it was Fated to be. The Cloud of the Mind may have earned his ire, he may have had a feud to settle with her, but he was a patient god and was not one to become emotionally attached when business was at play. He was certain that if she knew - and she would not - she would understand. He would cooperate with her when the Time deemed it, he would combat her when it was Fated, and he would take his vengeance and what was rightfully his when he Saw fit. [color=black]Fear me not, Cloud of the Mind, but know that Time responds in kind. For whatever a soul does sow, that it must also reap, the river of Time does flow, and you must surely weep.[/color]

The last upon whom Time's scrutiny fell was none other than [color=black]The Mason, The Crafter, The Brother.[/color] Vowzra felt a certain nostalgia when viewing this one, as though it held something that was of him. He was, after all, a Creator god, though not exactly so. Yet Vowzra felt a greater sense of...closeness...to this one then he did to his fellow Creator god, the Crippled One. To craft was to create, but a crafter could not create as a creator could create, nor could a creator craft as a crafter could craft. Both were close, similar, yet infinitely far and different. When held creation within their grip, the other could build all. Vowzra would bring this one close, where he could, and he would do his all to ensure that he built a Dignified Fate for them all.

Their fighting passed him by. Insignificant...stupid. It was when Fate acted that his moment had come. While the others were blinded by the Shattering Disunity, Fate and the Terrible Adjudicator set to work upon the Codex. They added untold volumes to it, and Vowzra added his contributions. None would know his gifts, none would realise them until the Time had come, and the Cloud of the Mind herself would hover around his contributions in confusion and alarm, unable to penetrate them just as she would be unable to penetrate what Fate and the Terrible Adjudicator had added. Thus was it Fated.

When at last the Shattering Disunity was complete, Vowzra was no longer there. He had simply...disappeared. But as the other gods created and meddled with Galbar, his will was made manifest. From the living trees that Slough had unconsciously created, and with the animals that emerged as a result of her unwitting will, and before all the others emerged, there emerged a tiny creature. The truly first creation, an amalgamation of the unconscious will to create life and direction from Fate and Time: ants.

The very first ant to emerge from its tree found itself scooped up by an invisible force, and before the little creature could do anything, it had disappeared into the Fabric of Creation.