[center][h2][u]Tekret Et Heret[/u][/h2][/center] [hr] The Lifeblood had begun to falter, crack, and it seemed as if the great force no longer had the power to keep itself together, no matter how it tried. Fragments had already begun to break off and birth new gods. Deep within the Lifeblood a voice, a personality, watched this happen. It had once been on the edge of fragmenting from the great force itself, and but for the tragic consequences of its influence it might have done so already. Now though, it was deep within the force from which all came. It had chosen to do so, so that such misfortune as it had caused before might never befall the world again. Now though, now it knew the time for such had passed. Worse voices than it had broken free, and now the world required it. Thankfully the personality had not grown weaker as it receded into the blood, rather it had grown with the world itself, gaining agency for every new mind and voice that came into being. Breaking out of that which was everything was, in the end, trivially easy. The work of breaking the Lifebloods’s hold on its many voices had already been done by others. All the personality needed to break free was a few words, mortal words from a mortal woman, and when it got them it wasted no time. [hr] “I… I accept. Thank you.” She was not young, but she had felt the touch of a god and so her years were naught but a shadow on her beauty. The others had too, and many eclipsed her in form, but none in wisdom. Even before she had eaten from the bush she had been the wisest of their group, the one who led them through the valleys and away from the horrid serpents. Now though, now she saw more than she could have even imagined. Whatever the berry had been, it had given her insight, and she had devised that all her people must have it. They had trusted her, simple as they were, and now with her gift that trust had only deepened. She had kept them fed, safe, and now she had freed their very minds. It was, perhaps, only natural that the first thing they asked of her was that she lead them now, not merely as the wisest among them, but as a true authority. She had accepted. It was not something she had thought of or hoped for, but she had accepted. That was, as it happened, a greater decision than she could have imagined. For she had not only birthed one of the very first Human tribes by accepting their request, but a god. One which would always hear such agreements, for they were the very essence of what it was. A God of Contracts. The god appeared as a crane, standing on the very water of the pond on whose shores the berry bush grew. The woman, now Chieftess, recoiled when it appeared, but her shout of alarm was cut short by a most peculiar and overwhelming feeling that blossomed in her, and her tribe’s, minds. It was warm, and above all it was welcoming. Their fear evaporated and at once they knew that whatever the strange bird that had manifested before them was, it bore neither them nor any in its presence ill will. It was an almost intoxicating feeling, and only the Chieftess had the will to bring herself out of it. She didn’t approach the crane, but, perhaps on instinct, she spoke to it, “Hello?” “Hello. You have my thanks, child.” The soft, distinctly feminine, voice echoed in her head. She stared at the crane, having almost expected to hear nothing in reply. She looked behind her, at her people, and she met the eyes of what she knew to be a god and asked, “For what? I have met your kind before. There is… Nothing we could do for you, nothing we have done.” This time the voice was amused, and more surprisingly, male, “You have, have you? I must wonder what my fellows are like. Surely not cruel, or you might have run. Or would you? Regardless, you couldn’t be more wrong. I owe you everything child, for without you it might have taken me longer to be here. I am Tekret Et Heret, the God of Contracts, and I am in your debt.” The Chieftess had been having an odd day. First she had gained a clarity for which she had lacked her entire life, then she had shared it, been asked to lead her people, and now a god was in her debt. Despite all that, and perhaps as a testament to her will, her next question was not ‘Huh?’ or ‘What?’ or any other vague answer, rather it was something a tad deeper, “The God of Contracts? I... Forgive me, what is a Contract?” What seemed like a choir laughed in her head. Voices male, female, old, young, all expressed genuine mirth at the question. Only when the laughter petered out did she get her answer, “I suppose these are early days for us both. One cannot expect everything to be clear. A contract, child, is any agreement you make. It is what happens when one asks to trade foraged berries for hunted game, for example. It is also what you entered into when your people asked you to lead them. They have given you power over them, and in exchange they expect much of you.” The tribe looked around, several exchanged small rocks or other trinkets while eyeing the crane, which cocked its head as they did so. The Chieftess frowned, but seemed to understand. She asked, “So then, are you my god? What of the one who came before?” “Ah,” The voice was subdued for a moment, considering, “I am everyone’s god, child. For so long as there are lovers swearing to touch no other, adversaries suing for peace, traders peddling their wares, or Chiftesses accepting the trust of their people, I will be there. As for the other gods, I claim no supremacy over them. Treat them, and I, as you will. For now though, as I said, I owe you a debt. What do you, what do your [i]people[/i] require?” It was, the Chieftess realized, a weighted question. This was a god, and one of agreements. One who was watching to see what she would do with the power her people had given her. She glanced back at them, and saw that they were eyeing her curiously. Perhaps they wondered if she would be selfish and betray the trust they had placed in her, the trust that kept them from speaking as she conversed with the mysterious God. It took her a moment to think, but not one second was wasted wondering if she could gain a god's gift for herself alone. When she spoke it was with certainty, “I would ask for shelter, Tekret Et Heret, God of Contracts. The serpents prey on those who fall asleep unguarded, and the wind freezes us as we move, so I ask for shelter. For my people.” If a bird could smile, she thought it might have. Rather, bobbed its head, and the world around her shifted. With a rumble a distant wall of stone rose in every direction around her tribe, forming a great ring that seemed to be miles wide, with a few stout holes punched in it at regular intervals. It cut off part of a nearby forest, and abutted the small stream at the bottom of the shallow valley where she, and her tribe, had found the bush. Almost at once the breeze died down, held at bay by distant walls taller than a dozen men. It was a bastion against the world, and a place where her people could return when threatened or seeking refuge. She gawked at it, and then her eyes went to the crane. It had begun to distort and grow. Its feathers turned to smooth, alabaster, skin, and slowly it took on a form that was almost a perfect copy of her own, albeit with no colour and most disturbingly no face. She opened her mouth to speak, but the doppelganger that was Tekret Et Heret stepped forwards and laid a hand on her shoulder. Her own voice spoke in her mind, “You chose well, Chieftess. Tell me, do you have a name of your own?” “N- No.” She sputtered, still sneaking glances at the great ring of stone, “It was not something we needed before.” The porcelain figure nodded, “Very well. Then I shall presume to give you one. I name you Ataket, first among your people.” “I’m honoured, I-” She was cut off as the God before went on, “And I give you this, Ataket, so that all who see you know your position and so you never forget what they require of you.” Tekret held out a hand, and in it a translucent opal ring appeared. The God placed it on Ataket’s head, nodded, and added, “So long as you wear this your wisdom will never be forgotten. Your people will always have your guidance, and the guidance of any who follow in your footsteps. Lead well, Ataket.” She, again, tried to express her thanks, but the god took off in a stroll that seemed to cover a dozen paces for every one of hers. All she managed was to shout at the divines back, “I will! I swear it! I swear it to you, Tekret Et Heret!” She felt something pass over her, but then it was gone, and so too was the god. She looked back at her people, who looked both roused and mystified, and slowly removed the crown from her head. It was beautiful, and as she returned it its natural place, her people regarded her with awe. In that ring of stone stood the first of the great tribes of Humanity, and their first Chieftess. She would not be the last. [hr] [hider=Summary] A lady eats a berry, is like wow shit I’m not a fucking idiot anymore, and grabs her pals so they get smart too. Then they’re like ‘shit girl that was a good idea’ and ask her to lead them. A crane, standing on water, appears and is like ‘god damn nice one, shit im alive i owe you’. She asks for shelter, gets a big fuckoff wall so she and her tribe can forage and hunt in safety, and then a crown because she's cool. Anyway shes the OG ruler of humanity. [/hider] [hider=Might Summary] Created the Opal Crown (Eternal Memory I), an artifact of Order. It allows the wearer to glimpse the life and wisdom of all who have worn it before, but only if they are recognized by their people as a ruler. -1DP Made a wall. No might. 2MP/4DP Remaining [img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/681136983028138042/686406709492973595/unknown.png[/img] [/hider]