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It wriggled.

It had wriggled often. It was, in fact, one of its most common and favorite pastimes. Though the pool of its birth was small it had been more than enough for the little godling. And so the small, tentacled creature wriggled. For uncountable amounts of time it had done so, swimming about in the pool-that-was-not-water, lost in itself. There was an emptiness in that pool but, as small as it was, the creature seemed enough to fill it. It had, of course, enjoyed more spacious accommodations when it had first formed; as time went on, the pool shrank and the thing grew.

Now the pool was not enough to swim in, a small puddle compared to the growing form that resided in it. To its glowing eyes the pool sang with color, bright and pleasing to behold; somewhere in its developing mind the creature recognized that it was, itself, of the pool’s making. It had been spawned by the pool, for the pool, to reside in the pool. A contemplative thought that the small tentacled godling had struggled with in its comparative youth but became an ever more thought on subject as it aged. Now, as it dwarfed the pool and its numerous eyes peered out across the endless flatness of the realm around the place of its birth, the creature ruminated.

It, as the growing godling had come to realize, was Klaarungraxus. 

It had learned this particular detail when it heard the noises of stone being pushed aside by its growth at the bottom of the pool, displacing the liquid in great movements that sent bubbles roiling to the surface, all tied together by the grinding of tentacles through rock. Those noises, of flesh growing to make room for itself, tentacles pushing aside stone, the destruction of it all roiling the water; that was its identity. Klaarungraxus was that destruction and that creation and so it was a most acceptable name. The words, though they only just could be considered such, had come to the creature easily; they were the natural sounds of the world, it seemed, and it was as natural to the world as the world was to it.

The world was empty. 

Klaar had figured that out as soon as it had grown beyond the confines of its pool. The first waters and the respectively small divot that contained them were dreadfully lonely in the world when it came to scenery. Klaar did not particularly mind early on, the world itself more than enough for his six eyes to devour. But, as his perception of time began to slow to a crawl (or possibly accelerate to a sprint) Klaar had quickly lost his original sense of majesty when it came to the empty, barren, and frustratingly flat expanse of the world around him. Nevertheless, his pool needed constant attention and the ocean-god-to-be was not going to shirk his duties of maintaining it. 

Then the damned thing in the sky happened.

Klaar had admitted to himself fairly early on that this was a misnomer; there were in fact two of the glowering things up there. Despite the immense power available at its tentacle-tips, Klaar had never once considered the validity of such creation; the pool and its slow, generous growth to better contain his girth had served as acceptable distraction. But here there were things at work, perhaps in many ways like himself, and oh what they wrought was infuriating and fascinating in equal measure. The two orbs hung above Klaar’s vastness, threatening him with their flight. Would they remain up there, worried Klaar? Were they simply to come crashing down, to disturb his pool he had become so fond of? And then one of the bloody things GLOWED.

Not a gentle glow, as Klaar had noticed from his eyes or the lovely lines that creased his form or from his pool, so beautiful and grand. No, the damn thing shone brighter than anything Klaar had ever experienced or ever desired to. The gross incandescence of that ostentatious icon stung Klaar to his very core. In desperation he retracted in on himself, attempting to hide beneath the gentle cool of his waters. Even with all his efforts, the pool only raised up to cover one of his eyes. It simply wasn’t deep enough!

Klaar began to dig. Huge, powerful tentacles pushed and dragged and ground out the stone of the world into sand, fine and coarse and of many colors. Great rents were torn out of the worlds surface, tossed aside or smashed into pebbles before being dashed in all directions. The waters of Klaar’s pool grew and with every passing moment in time became deeper but lost a bit of their light. They dulled as they deepened, becoming ever darker as the energies from which they were poured were spread ever more thinly. Nevertheless, each time Klaar looked back upwards towards the sky that had once been so palatable all he could see was that hideous, burning effigy. 

And so, he kept digging.

The time that passed was lost onto Klaar for his attentions were specific and his mood dire; he had no thoughts to waste upon the numerous things that abounded in that small stretch of time. When at last the furor of his escape had ran from his mind the depths of the sea had been carved. Klaar’s pool was no more, the first waters had been spread far and wide. In his depths Klaar was beyond the gaze of that cruel eye blazing in the sky. Yet, in his efforts to make good his escape the creature that was once small had grown to enormous proportions. The sea he hid beneath, though deep, felt cramped and claustrophobic. 

But, the thought passed across the alien mind of the thing that was Klaar; there was so much more room above.

Dreadful gears turned in that sentience, calculations and figures generated by a most vast of consciousnesses. Klaar pondered on the world that could be and how deep and wide he could make it. There was blessed space and plenty of it that still sat beneath his mortal foe, baking under that infernal glower. What if Klaar so wished to stretch his limbs, to explore the pool as he had done when he was small? Surely these new confines were unacceptably dull. A sense had come to Klaar of entities of vast power, growing and forming no doubt as he had. Eyes rolled and twisted in their sockets as tentacles wandered, stretching and growing with minds all their own. Space was needed and space Klaar would have. With that the work began again. 

Thus would the oceans be wrought, with one tentacle at a time.

[hider=Post Summary]
In the beginning there was wriggling.

Klaar is shown to have been spawned some time in the past, having cohabited in the world alongside a puddle known as the First Waters. In this pool of the very first waters made, created from Lifeblood itself, Klaar existed as a (relative to the planet) small godling organism free to wriggle and swim to its hearts’ content. 

At Klaar’s maximum growth in his pool, he is subjected to the blinding incandescents of the sun’s birth. Startled and hurt by this new source of brilliant light, the tentacled mass set itself to digging deep into Galbar’s crust and forcing his pool to grow to fill its new container. Sea levels are raised, the depths of the oceans are carved, and the beginnings of the world’s great bodies of water are made.

Reaching the deepest point in the Galbar oceans where he was finally free of the sun’s glare, Klaar determined that the first ocean was simply not enough space. Memories of a time when he was small, even compared to his pond, clashed with his newly gained form pressing against the confines of the narrow crevasse he had made. With that, Klaar began the creation of ALL of Galbar’s oceans, carving out as much space as he could at breakneck speed.

It seemed the Gods of the surface would need to claim the land for themselves if they intended to keep it.
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[hider=MP Summary]
Start 5MP/0DP

>Free - Created the Great Ocean of Galbar
>Free - Created the deepest point on Galbar, the aquatic trench known as Xaxuskrarus.

End 5MP/0DP
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