[center][h1][b][u]The Lifeblood[/u][/b][/h1][/center]

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Small things rumbled underground. With the numerous gods having exerted their many wills upon the surface of Galbar, the Lifeblood had had less and less to do, fewer ways to shape the world. But beneath the surface, in the chasms and yawning pits, was potential. The Lifeblood set to work.

It flexed, filling the incomprehensibly vast tangle of tunnels with its essence, swelling to occupy every inch of space beneath the surface. A single pulse, and ecosystems exploded— icy, crystalline pillars populated by gooey, frigid creatures capable of asexual reproduction; petrified forests submerged by water, where fish with sharp teeth swam around the stony wood; vents that spat hot gas and sulfuric soup, eagerly and greedily sucked down by lobsters made entirely of calcium; jungles of mushrooms deep, deep underground, that fed off of the decaying organisms that liquefied and rained onto them from above; porous domes of granite, phosphorus, and iridium, that crackled like lightning when exposed to heat; sludgy rivers of pure thorium, plutonium, and uranium that vaporized any nearby organic life before it could even touch the water; rugged, obsidian walls covered floor to ceiling in tiny spiders; bubbling waterfalls of tar and quicksand. Tunnels lined in gold and platinum that abruptly dropped off into smoking holes of lava. Explosive bursts of thorny plant life that needed no sunlight to survive. Mounds of wax populated by wicker termites. Stalactites made of diamonds that were sharp enough to split hairs. Geysers of gushing blood and bodily fluids. Dark, reflective caverns made of perfectly smooth flint, filled with vain penguins made of marble.

The pockets of what the Lifeblood affectionately thought of as “The Jumble” permeated Galbar with true randomness. Each micro-biome was small, no larger than three square miles, with the majority of them hovering in between a half mile and a mile. They were shaped oddly, and highly prone to starkly giving way to plain, regular stone. They could appear in great bunches, with great mixing between their various environments, or be the only Jumble biomes for many, many miles. They were nearly impossible to map out, and could be breathtakingly beautiful, or heart-stoppingly dangerous. And though its various, flighty, impossible-to-nail-down emotions had been dulled by the exodus of so many gods, the Lifeblood felt a tingle of joy.

But a few things were missing. The Jumble needed a crown jewel, something fantastic that mortals could appreciate and adore. Once more, it flexed, but this time, it concentrated its power into only three areas: a few hundred feet below the world anchor, a few thousand feet below the highest point on the Mydian island of Pakohu, and right below the surface of the Kubrazjar headwaters. In those three places, and those three alone, something lovely formed. Pale yellow trees sprouted, their roots anchored into crystal clear springs that stirred with delicate carbonation. Their leaves unfurled to reveal small pink worms that chewed on the bark and spun gossamer-light silk to coat themselves with. Mineral deposits formed around the roots, hardening around the base of the trunk into protective, vitamin-rich bark that could be chipped off. The pastel, golden leaves themselves smelled sharp and tangy, and when consumed, made one’s tongue glow yellow. Round, rich fruits grew off the delicate trees, occasionally falling into the bubbling water and becoming entombed in minerals. If cracked open, they would burst in a cloud of pleasant smelling orange and lemon dust. It was all rather lovely, the Lifeblood had to admit. The Neralis Trees would act as a precious oasis to any spelunkers. They needed no cultivation, and would live as long as their carbonated waters lived.

All was well. The Lifeblood moved on.



[hider=Summary]
The Lifeblood, feeling left out now that the gods are doing their things, makes some crazy shit underground, with a bunch of randomly mashed together ecosystems known collectively as “The Jumble.” It notably makes the first citrus trees, known as Neralis Trees, which can support silkworms and harvest life-saving vitamins on their roots. 
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[hider=MP Summary]
Free: create an ecosystem
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