[center][h2][b][u]A Touch Of Madness[/u][/b][/h2][/center] [hr] Perhaps, Tekret reflected from within the endless void, this was for the better. When Fe’ris had found him, for he had been a man at the time, Tekret had only just begun to glimpse those earlier memories of his. Now that he’d had time to ruminate on them the God of Contracts no longer felt indignation at the lifebloods actions. They were necessary. It was Tekret’s classic refrain, and perhaps now it rang true more than ever. From the beginning the gods had been... Flawed. Tekret certainly was. No matter how he tried, the god could never truly pierce the fog that enshrouded their memories from when they were one with the lifeblood, but he’d seen enough. He’d driven the lifeblood to create intelligence before it was ready. That life had paid the cost. It was all he needed to know. The details, lost as they were, mattered less than the reality. Gods were dangerous, and for all they saw more than any mortal their perception was fundamentally limited. They could never see the consequences of their actions. Even for those born of divinity the future was an impenetrable mystery, and one which they only rarely predicted correctly. Yes, this isolation was for the best. Tekret still saw through the eyes of thousands of Seer’s, heard the oaths and agreements of countless mortals, but now was limited in his ability to meddle. If the same rang true for the others, and Tekret knew it did, then the world would be shielded from the ignorance of gods. Even as it derived some benefit from their power. The God of Contracts could respect that. [hr] Things, she reflected, had gotten out of hand rather quickly after her banishment from the world. She was Tekret Et Heret, and today she was a woman wearing a rather interesting dress she’d seen a mortal sewing below. It was... Cumbersome, if attractive. Thankfully the god hadn’t need of her arms and legs or the work would have been impossible. Oh and the work. It was endless. It was everywhere. Literally. She’d made her realm to expand as she needed it, a world on the inside of a growing sphere, but she’d never expected it to grow this quickly. The idea to keep a copy of every mortal contract here, to ease the burden on her mind, hadn’t accounted for mortal’s propensity for utterly ridiculous nonsense. Or how quickly they were breeding. She huffed, and yes she’d taken to wearing a face here. It was hard to monologue to yourself, or huff, without a mouth after all. The inside of her realm, her great sphere, was lined in an uncountable number of amber buildings, archives holding the records of every agreement ever struck. At least half of them were filled with garbage. Yes, on reflection perhaps she shouldn’t have been counting pinky swears but she was the God of Contracts! It was her damn job to count pinky swears! [color=6fb887]“Even if I did stop cursing the children breaking them...”[/color] She winced as she spoke to herself. [i]That[/i] had been a bit of a disaster. A demographic crisis, really. She’d only wanted to teach the idiotic toddlers a lesson, how could she have anticipated a little curse like clumsiness for a few years would kill so many? She sighed, again, and filed away more contracts. The work never ended. Once upon a time she’d cared deeply for every single mortal life. Funny, how hearing ten thousand oaths to kill someone else a minute degraded your belief in the fundamental good of people. Just like cursing the children for that century had degraded her belief in mortal, well, durability? Anyway, she had too much to do to worry about a few broken eggs here and there. Those breaking contracts made in her name demanded her personal attention, and consequently distracted her from the endless work of maintaining the archives. They tended to find their curses rather brutal. Not that they were always lethal, that was obviously unhelpful. Well maybe not obviously. Again, it took about a century to learn she was being too hamfisted with those. Plagues had an unfortunate tendency to spread. These days she tried to make the punishments a bit more topical, ironic, even proportional. She bit her lip and admitted, [color=6fb887]“Ok, rarely proportional.”[/color] Look, if another god ever asked, and they wouldn’t because they were all trapped like her, she was just doing her job. Even when she’d summoned a bit of wind to blow that idiot king off the horse he was giving a speech on the necessity of his war against a people he’d sworn friendship with from. Even when he’d survived the fall to find himself being treated by a displaced member of that city. Even when she’d whispered in that medicine man's ear to mix up a few bottles. She was a god! How could she know it took months to die from that poison? It was hardly her fault. Thaa would sort it out anyway. Probably? Did souls still go to Thaa? If not there was a very smelly ghost wandering the world. Incontinence. That was a punishment she’d never try again. Probably. [hr] He lounged on the beach and basked in the light of his vault. Today, and yesterday, and most days for the foreseeable future, were part of Tekret Et Heret, God of Rulership and Contracts, century off. The rulership bit was new, but a god had to entertain themselves. Besides, order was doing pretty well. The whole crown thing had worked out well. Sure he’d missed a few, well almost all, species, but he’d gotten a couple! The interesting ones really. Well save the Mantarin, but Artifex had spoiled them to a ridiculous extent anyway. Honestly, Tekret had made a wall but he hadn’t made a wall like [i]that[/i]. Some days he wondered how it didn’t go to the bugs heads. It probably did. Not his department. Mostly. He yelled at the water before him, [color=6fb887]“Even if it was, I’m. On. Vacation.”[/color] Yep. Vacation. He had a beautiful beach, a copy of one he’d seen through a mortal on Mydia. It took up what was, by this point, an infinitesimal speck on the inside of his great sphere, his archives. It was also growing, as he got bored of a section and added a palm tree here or a solid platinum beach house there. Sometimes, when he was a woman, he’d try a sundress from here or there. In this form though? Well he took the mortals example. Clothing was a mistake. Especially on vacation. He was absolutely not going to be wearing pants on vacation. That was against the idea of vacations. Which, to be fair, he only barely understood. He was still doing basic maintenance of his realm in the background of his mind, but the meddling? The interference? Nope. None of that. All the kings and queens didn’t work on vacation, so he wouldn’t either. He felt vaguely guilty about that, but he’d been at it for what? A thousand years? Two thousand? Every god deserved some time off. He’d even deliberately put up a mental wall between the part of him that was managing his realm, hearing mortals, working, and the part of him lounging on his beach. He’d been on vacation for three years now, and he was honestly considering extending it for a century or two. Was a hundred years of not having to really listen to ignorant babies swear to eat their vegetables so they can play outside, only to throw them out the window, enough? Maybe... Two hundred would be good. It was then that, on his beach, during his vacation, a him damned portal opened up. [hr] As it happened, a very angry naked man barged into antiquity and with a shaking fist shouted, loud enough for all the gods to hear through their own portals, [h3][color=6fb887]“[i][b]You do this now?! You break two thousand years of isolation the second I decide to take a fucking rest? I swear to me that I’m going to punch whoever couldn’t wait one, just one, stupid century to pull this nonsense!”[/b][/i][/color][/h3] [hider=Summary] Tekkie is ok with exile. The gods are dangerous, dontchaknow. Of course, two thousand years of dealing with everyone's bullshit in isolation takes a toll. A rather large one. Tekret has loosened up. Maybe a bit too much. Look gods have to get naked and shout that their neighbours occasionally. It’s normal. [/hider] [hider=Might Summary] -3mp Rulership Port [/hider]