[center][img] https://img.itch.zone/aW1nLzIwODc0MDAucG5n/original/EYT8xF.png[/img][/center]
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As the hull of Actuality cracked and bent against godly machination and Galbar became filled with a great many things, Boris scaled a mighty crag. Albeit not the greatest-this near vertical cliff-face jutting deep in the eastern region of the mountain range he decidedly dubbed the Godeo-it still proved to be quite the task for the ‘terrestrial by choice” lord of stone. Despite this, Boris remained privy to actions of the divine and the active force upon Toraan proper.

To the south his immovable sibling took root and went on the offensive, assaulting nearly the entire continent with the green. To the northeast the ball of fire and hot stuff branded a grassland in her liking, and installed a great many breathing-things there. To the northwest a similar plain spread by will of active force, this one a product of one of the rather doleful entities ruminating within in it. And to the north still a  great mountain range crowned an endless tundra. Such was the craftsmanship that Boris considered visiting them himself one day. 

As the Boar cleared the crag and came upon a great plateau, he extended his senses far past the edges of Toraan. Underneath his hooves he could feel the collision and subduction of tectonic place, causing great monoliths to rise up out of the Great Blue. And upon them things grew and breathed as the will of the active force exercised its might and creativity. 

A deep twinge pulled at the boar’s insides. While he had been content to roll and play in his mountains, none could resist the dogma of purpose. And what was life without purpose? 

Looking to the south, he beheld the unfathomable height of the sibling he affectionately named the Big Green, for lack of an actual name. It’s works brought a great many beauties to Toraan, and with it a wealth of undeniable utility. For as much as the boar admired beauty, value lay in its functionality all the same. And for what it was worth, the active force of actuality seemed to agree with his convictions. 

Even now it worked upon the Godeo, blessing it with a bounty of grass and flowers to counter it’s snow-capped peaks and tundra-like alpine. And with it came a great many breathing-things, winged and bird-like, strong and built last. 

And then, the tegument of actually snapped, and the blood-curdling scream of a creature erring towards damnation reaches the Boar’s ears. It came from the west. 

With a snort, Boris flexed and leapt into the sky, clearing hundreds of kilometers in a single bound. He landed heavily and jumped again, this time clearing twice the distance. A moment later he landed on a hillside, young with the first snows of the lower alpines.

At his hooves rested the desecrated corpse of a flying-thing. It’s body battered, lacerated and sloppily devoured beyond recognition, what was left of its exterior had been removed expertly. 

The Boar bristled. Then snorted. And like rolling thunder the rage of the mighty mountain came, solid and palpable, and with it the active force of creation drew close, waiting to be molded. Yet he was silent in his fury, for he knew that the creatures' end was a byproduct of his own ire and irresponsibility. 

The smell of blood and rot led down the mountain and into a valley m, but he made no move to follow it. The hunt could wait. For a debt he owed to life, in his rage he had wrought a plague upon existence, and he would pay the tithe three times over in remittance, and eviscerate the enemy.

Summoning the lifeblood too him, the boar took what was left of the corpse and reshaped it. And the active force eagerly obeyed, reconstituting bone where much had been destroyed, and sinew was reconstructed, and muscles were synthesized according to the form Boris wrought. Flesh covered over it, and brown fur over that, replacing its matted feathers.

And when all was finished, the Boar and the whole of actuality looked upon what they had created. It was a skinny thing, standing upright on hooved yet possessed hand at the ends of its arms. And affixed atop its head was a mighty crown of antlers, and between them a golden ring shown with the light of the sun, a sign belonging to those of the mountain god’s brood. It’s eyes gleamed with a knowing intelligence. 

Boris huffed, and saw that it was good. 

[center][color=SaddleBrown]”Just as from death you came, death you will bring.
I call you Aeinwaje, the First Adler, a spirit of the mountain and the hunt.
You I have named my Co-sign, and I have given to you a portion of my power, that you may serve me faithfully for ages unremitting, and root out the stupid fockers who roosts in the Anchor’s bosom and grunch them.”[/color][/center]

And the four legged thing called Aeinwaje bowed and projected:

[i]”Just as you will it, so it will be done, lest I lay down my existence to damnation. I swear it.”[/i]

Boris grunted, and went on to teach him many things.

[hider=Summary]
First version was better but whatever.

Boris is chilling in his mountain range, recently named the Godeo Mountains. There he ponders and plays for a bit, observing creation and eventually coming to the conclusion that he should join in. He then senses a death and backflips to see what tf is going on. He finds a dead proto-stone bird and knows it’s the doing of his earlier rage. In order to repay the debt, he creates the first hero, Aeinwaje the Adler, and teaches him many things.
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[Hider=MP Summery]
4 MP, 0 DP

>1 MP - Create a Hero, the mountain spirit The Adler.

3 MP, 0 DP
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