[h1]The Lifeblood[/h1] Warmth. Wherever the rays of Oraelia touched, there was warmth, exciting plant life and infusing the new "animal" things with energy and vigor. Something inside the Lifeblood stirred at this, something resentful. Something that felt cheated. It saw this warmth and recoiled, aghast at the sweat it drew from bodies and the graphic way it drove growth and reproduction. No, this wouldn't do at all. This was too alive, too verdant, too... "Oraelia." And that bitter whisper knew it had to do something about it. Yes, warmth brought growth. But as all things, as the molten core of Galbar steamed against the seas and the sunlight drew plumes of vapor off the Deep One's waters, too much brought suffering. The fuzzy small ones would swelter in their fur coats and expire. The fresh water, already precious in a world of salty seas, would dry up, wilting the trees and shrubs and quickly killing off the animals. With every new death, the bitterness swelled. Something had to be done. The Lifeblood ventured north, where Oraelia had not yet roved. It trekked beyond the Isle of Neverday, past the trees with thin leaves and thick trunks, and it began to rumble with ideas. Farther, farther, and farther still, where the sun was weak and the ground was engulfed in sea, it settled. It observed the differences between Oraelia's warmth and Gibbou's lack of such, and it began to create. It pulled fresh water from the air, willing it to become more accessible, more soothing, more like Gibbou. And with that admiration for the second goddess, it compressed the vapor, squeezing and squishing it down until finally, wonderfully, it had a single, precious snowflake. The Lifeblood was ecstatic. This thing, this minuscule fragment of cold, needed to spread. Snowflakes would abound, coating the slate-gray sea beneath a blanket of perfection, a cozy tranquility. It exerted its will and the northern waters were covered. More vapor, high in the atmosphere, learned of the new cold thing, and decided to join. The flakes fell, fat and heavy, clumping together into bigger and bigger chunks. Yes, more! They fell faster, whirling together and blocking out the sun. Here, where Oraelia rarely looked, would be the cold. When she did look, she would look for ages, trying to pick out shapes and figures in the white for months on end. And when she grew bored, it would be Gibbou's turn, watching over the quiet and still landscape for equal months. But what was this? The water, though chilled, could not support the snowflakes. They were consumed the moment they touched the seafoam. Irritation, felt the Lifeblood. There could be no snow without land. Filled with new resolve, The Lifeblood tugged deep inside itself, and an outcropping of blank stone jutted from below the waves. It pulled and pulled, eking out more and more stone to shape, until finally, there was yet another island, this one long and fat and stretching not far from the mainland's coast. With a single touch, the stone exploded into white, besieged by snowflakes of infinite shapes and sizes. Now, whenever the snow touched the water's edge, it turned hard and ever colder, spreading across the water in a sheet of crackling, frosty sea ice. Satisfied, the Lifeblood's bitterness ebbed, and prepared to direct its attention elsewhere, when a different feeling presented itself. Not yet ready to truly define itself, the feeling opposed the endless white. No existing animals could survive in the desolate frost, and no plants were suitable for its freezing temperatures. It wasn't [i]fair[/i], reasoned the hint of the Lifeblood, that its new land should go unpopulated while others flourished. So the Lifeblood sculpted, shaping figures from the ice. Figures with thick fur, insulated against the elements, shaded white and gray to protect themselves from predators, or perhaps to conceal themselves from prey. Brown, hooved shapes with antlers that would fall to herald Gibbou. Swift, silent vulpines and lagomorphs for them to hunt. Hardy lichens and mosses to eat away at the rock beneath, paving the way for future grasses. Tall trees that grew at a glacial pace, with medicinal bark to heal those that might find themselves injured in what seemed a wasteland. Beneath Oraelia, it would thaw, and the many creatures would prosper. And beneath Gibbou, they would sleep, guarded by her long night. Truly satisfied now, the Lifeblood observed what it had made. Even in the most brutal of climates, it seemed, life would still teem. Somewhere far to the south, an identical land sprouted, as equally icy and inhospitable as its northern counterpart. [hider=Summary] The Lifeblood creates snow and arctic climates. It also creates various arctic and near-arctic animals and plants to populate the snow and ice. [/hider] [hider=MP Usage] 5MP/0DP MP Usage Free- Create an ecosystem (tundra/polar) Free- Various species now live in this environment. Free x2- Create two large islands. 5MP/0DP [/hider]