[center][h3]Creation • The Void
[sub]Muorival[/sub][/h3][/center]

Emptiness. Cold, hollow emptiness. A void of nothing, choking and dark and terrifying in all senses of the word. Nothing but emptiness.

And then, a whisper.

[i]Muorival.[/i]

The being that came into form from the womb of an empty vastness, wrapped in light that faded to the deepest black, shivered as the coldness of the void washed over her curled form. Emptiness. But not quite. There were others. Pulsing beings of power and ferocity. Their presence pulsed and beat and throbbed like a heartbeat, deafening against the silence of the darkness before her. Sparks of what would and would not be, of fates yet passed and not yet born. Something more. Something new. Who. What. How. Questions and answers that threaded intangible truths and unknowns into the creaks of her mind before slipping into the void.

But not all. There was one, strong and unrelenting, knotted in the needles of Knowing. This she grabbed, she pulled, she unwinded. This truth, shivering with potential and energy, was the truth of the Soul. 

[i]Awaken, my children[/i], she whispered. [i]Awaken.[/i]

Muroival's eyes opened, her gaze a beam of white light that pierced the veil of nothingness. From this, whisps of energy poured through. Dancing, winding, seeking different forms and different places. They sang and saw and shivered, filling the void with What-Coulds and What-Wills. They were potential in its purest form, and full of unknown desires that culminated and grew. But they were new, mere fetuses in a dark womb. In the darkness they travelled, farther and farther and farther. They had no Where and no Why, only the need to fill and grow and [i]be[/i].

[i]Come, my children,[/i] she beckoned. [i]Come to me.[/i]

She willed them closer, the light culminating in her palms. Brighter and brighter and brighter, until it cut through the nothingness like a beacon. The light changed and grew until it was a torch, its handle a smooth ebony and its flame a pure glow that emanated comfort and warmth. Safety for the scared. Rest for the weary. A Torch for the lost.

The Souls danced with joy at this new creation. They turned and flocked around Muroival, weaving in and out of her light. Yet they were still so new, so fragile. Small entities of power that could be used and twisted into perversions of their purpose. Murorival closed her eyes, and as she opened the once more, her light flared brighter. In an instant, the land around her was bathed with brightness. Then, slowly, a changing darkness. Barren trees, thick and dark, reached towards the empty heavens like emancipated hands. Slowly spiraling, slowly winding, forming paths that tricks and trapped.

Amongst the black barked bones and shadows, she created a new entity. Different from the Souls. Something more...dangerous. From the shadows she crafted beasts of fur and bone. Hulking menaces with twisted, rotting bodies patched with shaggy hair. A mane of matted locks crept up its spine, falling over an elongated face of ivory bone that bore a single, twisted spite in the middle of its forehead. These abominations, seen as beautiful by the goddess and given the name 'Mortifers', were given one simple task: serve the goddess.

Yet in the center of this expansive forest stood a circular mountain range of unnerving height. Ominous and dangerous, stone claws that towered over all. Yet in the middle of it all, the black mountains became a violet-blue. Dead trees became lush forests and orchards. Branches were heavy with the weight of fruit, and the grass a deep green. This was a place of rest. A paradise against the emptiness outside. The haven of Elisium, home for the Souls.

Muroival sat in the center of her meadow, the Souls' joyful laughter filling her ears. This was merely the beginning. It wasn't so much as a know, but a feel. A deep sense of starting, and of going and going. There was more to do, more to be. For now, however, the goddess reclined in her throne of grass and merriment, the light of her Torch seemingly brighter than before.

[hr][hider=AP Actions]

The Action-Cost-Name of Action: Description

[b][u]Create Sapient Life -- 2AP -- Souls[/u][/b]
The creation of Souls, fragile manifestations of energy and life conceived from the universe. Present in nearly almost living thing, they return to Elisium once their time in a world has ended. Some, however, refuse to leave their mortal plane as they vainly search for immortality.

[b][u]Create Artifact -- 5AP -- Muorival's Torch[/u][/b]
Muorival's Torch is capable of commanding any and all Souls. It can even bring forward the Soul of one who has already passed onto Elisium and restore it to its original body...for a price.

[b][u]Weave Plane -- 4AP -- Elisium[/u][/b]
The haven for Souls, Elisium is where they all go after leaving their mortal plane. In the center is meadow surrounded by a ring of mountains. Full of orchards and fine weather, this is regarded as a paradise to all who enter. Surrounding this meadow and taking up a majority of the realm is the Forest of Hands. Thick trees and an ever dark sky permeate this maze-like environment, and packs of Motifers hunt down anything trying to leave or come in.

[b][u]Create Monstrous Life -- 1AP -- Mortifers[/u][/b]
Servants of Muorival, they live only to serve their goddess. Having the appearance of an unholy union bewtween an ape and a horse, they are a terrifying sight to behold. Their body is that of a starved ape with a mane of shaggy hair running down its spine, and their feet are backwards horse hooves. Their most infamous feature is their horse-skull head and the single, black horn they use to maim and kill their victims.


16AP - 12AP = 4AP
0PAP
[/hider]