Excelsis, though it had no knowledge nor comprehension of that name, found itself on a blackened shore at the edge of creation. He didn’t have a form. Why did he not have a form? There was little else he could do than ponder the question. He had no eyes to see nor ears. So he posed the question internally to himself: why does he not have a form?
His form would come as a mirror of… something. Something that was yet to be. Because it is not, he is mirrorless. That wouldn’t do. He needed a shape. Could he get a shape? The answer to the question came easily. The blackened sand rose up and gathered as if pulled by some invisible magnet. It gathered and condensed into an orb. Was this enough? Hardly, things existed. There was a reality beyond. The fact that he just formed a body from something was proof of that. So he had to sense things about him. He had to!
So how do you sense something? The answers came in a thousand fragments of little truths. The black god-orb shifted and changed. A thousand protrusions formed and vanished again as they were deemed insufficient. One moment a hundred eyes formed all over the orb, then turned into half as many ears, which then turned into three times as many whiskers reaching out. He cycled through other senses as well. Three hundred tongues tasted the non-air. Rubbery skin formed to feel the difference between cold and warm. Bit by bit, the god-orb puzzled his sense of reality together by ever alternating his own shape. Eyes would be useful, indeed. Skin too. He cycled through other senses too. Deposits of a matter that aligned with greater forces. Large stalks grew to detect the minute changes in pressure. A lot of senses were discarded as well. There were also senses developing that he had little understanding of.
The orb kept cycling through the senses. It began to shuffle the ones that worked through each other. Eyes and ears grew and vanished together as the god-orb examined the world. How curious, there was a reality but it was also only half-shaped. Much as he was only half-shaped. What should he do next?
Well, if you have uncovered something, one gets to name it. It discovered itself so it could name itself. The name came presently: Excelsis. The word held no meaning at all, beyond that it was indisputably its name. So he was Excelsis and a half-formed world existed around him. It was clear what he had to do next.
From the orb appendages grew. He used a hand to grab the sand. It clung to him for a moment – what was a moment? – and then fell, leaving behind light. A paw dug through the sand. It was all the same to the touch. Two eyes formed upon two hands and looked closer over the sand below – yes, there was a below, which meant there was also an up – and came to the conclusion it was all one form. The maybe-water behind was also of one form: everything. There existence raised a hundred questions that would require a – oh.. what is this?
A newly formed claw raised something before Excelsis’ permanent eyes. Slowly, he turned it around. It wasn’t sand. It was irregular, larger, imperfect in shape and therefore so exciting! It was a crystalline thing. His physical form released it but his curiosity held it at attention. It drifted in the air around him, orbiting the god-orb Excelsis as eyes began to follow it along the other shell of the god. Other eyes detected other shapes nearby. They were out of reach, though.
And then they weren’t. The god-orb moved itself. Three-jointed arm – which once would be identified as a grasshopper’s arm – reached out and grabbed something else. A shell? He knew what it was but not the meaning of – what is that? One of his newly formed eyes caught something on this shell. It turned to focus it again.
Reality did not just have form. It had… color! All god-eyes of Excelsis blinked and in a moment they left him disappointed. The world was not filled with color. Quite the contrary. Only the shell seemed to hold an essence of not-nothing. The fading grasshopper arm vanished, and the shell began to orbit Excelsis as well.
His god-sense screamed. Something stepped into the world. Other gods? Yes! No… They were something else. The name self-manifested itself: Ideals. Much like his own name, the name meant nothing beyond that Excelsis was certain that these new beings were named that way. The god-orb was enthralled by these representations of reality. Then one of them came into being that burned like a bonfire amid candles. Excelsis was both enamored and enraged by the sight. This was all he wished to be. It was all he wished to have.
A base sort of greed overtook him. Innate divinity answered his voiceless demands. The god-orb short forth towards a glowing tear in reality from where the Ideal of Knowledge was stepping into the world. Black sand raged around him a hurricane. At the command of the god of discovery the sand turned into a mighty maw and engulfed the blazing Ideal. Metaphysical chains of divinity tangled with the entity. Excelsis would have it. He would have all the knowledge and it would serve as a foundation for his Everything.
An Ideal, however, was not so easily captured. As the sand cage hardened, it slipped like water between the fingers. It moved and dodged, shrouded itself in light and dark all the same. It was never a fight between two creatures. This was a fight between two definitions of reality. The Ideal wished for its own freedom for all. Excelsis demanded its imprisonment and eternal obeisance. The two tangled in physical and metaphorical ways above the world. It was the First Battle of existence.
Excelsis never cared to understand what was going on. With raw might he tried to overpower the Ideal’s every move. He would have his price, the consequences be damned. Whether the Ideal understood the futility of the battle, or Excelsis failed to understand it, it could not last. All that was, is, and would be fought against a being that could alter two of those things.
A mighty, physical explosion rocked the world.
“NO!” The very word followed the blast! Knowledge in all sorts of shapes of reality flew out towards every corner of the world. As soon as it happened, tendrils and appendages reached out. Thousands of pages, steles, plaques, engravings, and other vessels of knowledge were captured and brought back. Not all, though. A few scattered bits of pure comprehension were lost due to Excelsis’ lack of omnipresence. Others were flung into the Ocean. They sank into the deep, forbidden waters. Excelsis cursed. He cursed the foolish Ideal that had chosen to shatter itself instead of admitting its defeat.
Still, he was mostly successful. The pages were united into something that would be named the Akashic Vessel, which, in the presence of Excelsis represented itself as a simple, stone slate. All other senses that had littered the outside of the god-orb vanished. Instead, a million different eyes opened up to gaze upon the tablet.
It was incomprehensible. None of it made sense. Not even the basic signs. “No.” An unnerving sense settled over Excelsis. “I captured you!” He roared for everyone and everything to hear. “You are mine!” It was spoken with as much hubris as it was with desperation. “Show yourself!” The tablet did shift. Its signs and symbols moved before the many eyes. It was mocking him. The new shapes made as much sense as the old ones did. That is to say, none at all. The Akashick Vessel was incomprehensible to his divine mind.
Excelsis examines the half-made world, then detects that Ideals are coming forth. He tries to imprison the Ideal of Knowledge but fails. The Ideal shatters into billions of fragments of knowledge. Excelsis can gather most of them. Some evade him, others fall into the Ocean where he can’t go. Most of the pieces of knowledge (in the form of scrolls, steles, books, etc) are gathered and united into the Akashic Vessel. Which no divine mind can read. - 3 Conviction: Creating God-Tier artifact - The Akashic Vessel. Catastrophic Ripple Turbulence: 100% 2 convictions remaining
Unfazed by the close proximity, the black mist warps around the colorful body of the god of merriment resembling a one arm hug. The hollow smile flickers, creating a more mysterious atmosphere.
“That’s for you to find out, is it not?” The black god laughs in a high pitched, menacing voice. “I would hate to ruin your surprise” they said, knowing full well that Yzechr is in fact, their real name.
Alechior didn’t flinch from the warped one-arm embrace. They slid an arm of their own around Yzechr in return, light and careless, like greeting an old friend they absolutely should not trust but enjoy anyway.
When the corruption god delivered that last line, Alechior barked out a laugh, sharp and delighted. “Good luck? Oh, I like that. Luck behaves strangely around me.”
They drifted upward, body tilting back as if caught by a breeze that only listened to them. Higher, higher, until their outline shimmered against the odd sky.
“This was lovely,” they called down, grin wide. “But it’s starting to feel a little boring, and I refuse to stand still long enough for that.”
A playful salute followed, two fingers tapping their temple.
“I’m off to have some fun. Try not to miss me! Taaa!”
As Alechior left, they half-picked up what one of the other divines Excelsis did using their divine power but decided it could wait until later. Surely there must be something to do in this half-made world. "Worst case," he said to themselves, "I'll find another sibling that seems fun to play with."
Moren hovered near her fellow goddess, flying to accompany her. She noticed the other one was heading towards the evasive structure, and wondered if approaching it would truly be that simple. The death goddess let her mind drift, pretending as if her goal was not set. And why should it be? She was content to let chance and whim guide her.
If her direction just so happened to coincide with the glimpses of the structure in her periphery, well. It was simply spontaneity and wonder which drew her to drift in that general direction. If the structure ended up being there, that was fine, and if it did not, it was just as well.
The one of crimson wings posed a question. Moren tilted her head, almost turning towards the structure by accident before she let the unknown building slip away from sight again. “The skies were an indulgence, truly, she confessed as her gaze wandered to Adria’s trident. She assumed her sibling could relate. “That, and I wondered if it would feel like unmaking the what-was or making the what-is-and-will-be.” After a pause, she added, “It was the latter.”
There was a disturbance up above then, but a most wondrous one. Unbidden, a smile formed as she watched stars manifest. The sky was fuller now, complete, or closer to it. Moren could not yet conceptualize what could be added to enrichen it, but she thought there might be such things. “Join us, light one,” Moren included Arstus in the mental communication with Adria. Despite sending the thought to both, it was evident whom she was referring to – and not only because she had referred to the god by a title. A slight mental nudge had the effect of clarifying who the target of a specific thought was, even when it was sent to multiple gods, so all were aware of what she was communicating.
“I concur. To learn and understand, we should consider what was, what is, and what will be in equal measure.” Sure and steady, they started making their way onward. “Do you think that the form-which-was will reveal less answers the more changes we bring forth?” She wondered, posing the question to the other two.
In the distance below, another god announced he would seek answers below. “Search far and wide, sand-friend. There seemed something like a motion below. Let us know your findings, please,” she sent the thought to Khthon only.
Adria remarked that she and Arstus shared a mark. “Indeed,” Moren agreed. Her satisfaction was self-evident, for her thought permeated a sense of pleasure. She cast her gaze upwards again, taking another moment to admire the creation. “If one could do all, there would not be multiple of us,” she posited.
“So, let us cooperate, and seek.” That said, Moren drifted, never too far away from the other two, though her curiosity did lead her to consider splitting up. Searching in multiple locations was a good idea – there was the corrupted sea below, the newly adorned heavens above, and who knew what else?
All around, she felt new marks burst into being as her fellow gods harnessed that brimming potential they all sensed, realizing it into something new. Yet, she felt as if the world they came to be had already been full of suggestions. Where was the source of those? And of them, the gods?
The feeling was muted, but Moren recognized a certain notion of eagerness or wonder at their exploration. Was there a beyond the fog? How far did the shapeless world extend? Would the changes spread all throughout? What else might they uncover?
Before the horizon-less beach of black sand, before the chatter of new-born gods, before they came into being–
There was noise. Distinct. Muddied. Present. Boundless. It was not a physical noise, not quite real, but it left impressions nonetheless. The murmur of being more than what it was now – not that they had a clue what it referred to – the wish to build anew upon half-formed foundations; the want to discover secrets long lost to an ill-defined concept of time; they all blended into noise.
Ah. This won’t do at all.
It was with this displeasure that this new-born god settled into being on that foggy, black beach. That, and a name.
Sirna. It was a hazy remnant of a past that lingered, the only thing that stuck in the gaping lack of knowledge present in their head – or what served as a head. Their body seemed to be incorporeal at the moment, a mass of indecisive shadows that blurred at the edges and chased away the fog around it. It was in this form that Sirna observed the setting they had found their self in, quietly taking in the sounds, the sights, the actions that seemed to be more real than the noise they had been lost in before.
There were others. A colourful spread of personalities, and forms, and capability. It was hardly any time at all before they gravitated towards their own groups. Some stayed on their own, pursuing separate goals. It was about the time when the one fascinated with rocks buried himself in the sand that Sirna realised that their displeasure had never quite gone away, and that it was because the noise had not gone away. It simmered somewhere beneath the surface – the surface of what, Sirna did not know – and it was cramped, restless. Noise was not the right term for it, now that Sirna had heard true sound from the voices of the other fledgling gods, but it was... intruding.
It needs space, they thought.
And so there was.
Nothing in the physical world changed. In another place, on another plane, however, something yawned. A space expanded, unseen and unfelt – but perhaps sensed by the other wandering gods – and Sirna felt the noise recede. It did not disappear, but the distant murmur it became was a far sight better than the dense, bubbling broil it had been. It was contained. Disorganised, perhaps, but contained all the same.
Away went Sirna’s displeasure. In its place was a buoying merriment. This was better! Much better! A hue of midnight blue tinted their blurry, shadow form. Satisfied, Sirna began to make their way over to the water’s edge. Idly watching everyone else had sparked curiosity, now that they were no longer bothered by the relentless noise in their nonexistent head.
What was so fascinating about drinking from this strange sea?
~
• SURREAL: Sirna creates the realm of dreams, an incorporeal, unseen plane of existence that can only be accessed through sleep, unconsciousness, or other godly means.
In the depths of the corrupted ocean, something pulsed.
The pearl-white shell that Yzechr had consumed had not been destroyed, not truly. It had dissolved into the very substance of the sea, becoming one with the darkness and the deception. But shells, especially those touched by mysteries, have memories. And memories have a way of surfacing when least expected.
At irregular intervals, sometimes hours apart, sometimes days, the ocean would clear. For a handful of heartbeats, the lightless depths would become transparent, the water as pure and safe as it had been before corruption touched it. Ships could sail. Fish could swim without mutation. The alluring whispers would fall silent.
Then, just as suddenly, the clarity would fade. The corruption would return, darker than before, as if angered by the interruption. The gods who had collected other shells from the shore, pretty, nacre-bright things, felt those trinkets grow suddenly inert in their grasp. The faint magic that had clung to them, the sense of significance, drained away like water through sand. They were still beautiful. But they were just shells now, nothing more.
SUMMARY: Yzechr's corruption of the ocean creates an unexpected side effect. The consumed pearl-white shell wasn't destroyed—it dissolved into the sea and now creates periodic "safe windows" when the ocean temporarily becomes clear and pure. All other collected shells lose their magical properties.
DIVINE ACTION: Yzechr - Corrupt Ocean
Action Type: Major World Transformation
Tier: SURREAL - Permanent alteration of massive natural feature
Ocean clears periodically at random intervals (minutes to days)
During clear windows: water is safe, transparent, non-corrupting
All other collected shells lose magical properties permanently
Creates unpredictable navigation conditions
Conviction Cost: 2
The world shuddered.
Not with earthquake or storm, but with something far deeper: a tremor in the fabric of reality itself, a resonance that sang through the bones of creation. The gods, scattered across the nascent shores and skies of Ashuru, felt it simultaneously: a weight pressing down from beyond, as though something vast had turned its attention toward this fragile dream.
High above the black shore, where Orranoth had extended his hand toward the impossible, the firmament cracked. For one breathless moment, the barrier between Ashuru and the realm beyond fractured. Not breaking, but thinning to gossamer, and through that translucent wound the gods glimpsed them.
Countless intricate phenomena manifested just beyond the world's edge. Geometric impossibilities folded through dimensions that had no names. Colors that were not colors, hues that existed in spectrums mortal eyes would never perceive, painted themselves across the sky in spiraling, recursive patterns, each burning with the cold fire of absolute perfection.
The Matron of Secrets stood at the threshold between worlds, her hand still clasped with Orranoth's. Where their fingers touched, reality bent like heated glass. She was smiling. Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the vision collapsed. The firmament sealed. The impossible colors drained from the sky like water through cupped hands, leaving only the painted darkness of Moren's night and the steady stars of Arstus.
But the gods had seen. They had witnessed the perfection that lay beyond their flawed creation, and that vision would not leave them. Their minds reeled, struggling to contain what they had glimpsed, not with pain, but with a dizzying sense of smallness, of being shadows cast by a greater light. The world steadied. The Ideals were gone from sight, but not from memory.
And somewhere in the depths of each divine consciousness, a question took root: What have we invited into our world?
SUMMARY: Orranoth's connection with the Matron of Secrets causes the firmament to fracture, revealing countless Ideals manifesting just beyond the world's barrier. All gods witness the perfection of the Forms for a brief, overwhelming moment before the vision collapses and reality seals.
DIVINE ACTION: Orranoth - Invite the Ideals into Universe
Action Type: Contact External Entities
Tier: NIGHTMARE - Opening universe to external cosmic forces
Domain Alignment: In-Domain (Magic, Skies)
Ripple: CATASTROPHIC - "The Fracture"
Firmament cracks temporarily
All Ideals become visible beyond world's barrier
Impossible colors and geometric phenomena fill sky
Gods witness perfection of Forms
Minds reel from overwhelming vision but remain conscious
Conviction Cost: 5 Turbulence: See 'The Shattering' for more information.
Far across the shore, Excelsis, hubris-incarnate, completed his violent communion with the Patron of Knowledge. The battle had been titanic: a clash between divine greed and a fragment of perfect understanding. The Patron had not wished to be captured, to be owned, and so it had done the only thing a semi-conscious fragment of an Ideal could do when cornered: it shattered itself rather than submit to imprisonment.
The explosion was not physical, though physical things certainly felt it. It was metaphysical, a detonation of pure comprehension that scattered across Ashuru like seeds on the wind. Most of the fragments Excelsis had captured, binding them into the Akashic Vessel, but a few... a few had escaped into the world. Into the ocean. Into the earth. Into the uncertain spaces between.
But the true consequence came now, in the aftermath.
Every god felt it at once: a presence in their mind, vast and perfect and terrible. For a single, suspended instant, each deity saw the Ideal of their Domain, not the, now seemingly, imperfect sphere of influence they wielded, but the perfect template from which their power potentially derived.
Khthon saw Earth Absolute; every stone that ever was or could be, compressed into a single point of infinite mass and meaning. He saw Secrets Pure; the locked door behind which all hidden things dwelled in perfect obscurity, unknowable and untouchable. Adria saw War Eternal; conflict stripped of emotion, reduced to its crystalline essence: force meeting force, neither good nor evil, just the perfect opposition of wills. She saw Sacrifice Complete; the moment of giving distilled to its purest form, an offering without hope of return.
Yzechr saw Deception Absolute; lies so perfect they became more true than truth itself. Corruption Pure; not decay, but transformation: the perfection of changing one thing into another without flaw or hesitation. Sarhush saw Civilization Ideal; order extending infinitely in all directions, every being in its perfect place, every law executing flawlessly for eternity. Kingship Pure; authority without question, rule without rebellion, command that was absolute.
One by one, each god confronted the perfection of their own Domain and realized, once again, how far they fell short of it. The visions were overwhelming, with even divine minds, try as they might, be unable to contain such perfect understanding. Reality pushed back. Consciousness flickered.
Each god experienced a moment of absolute nothing, a gap in their awareness, as if they had simply ceased for the span of a heartbeat. When they returned—and they did return, though it felt like waking from a dream they couldn't quite remember—the visions were gone. Only a faint impression remained: a point of light in memory, too bright to look at directly, forever out of reach.
SUMMARY: Excelsis battles the Patron of Knowledge, leading to it shattering itself in a metaphysical explosion that scatters knowledge fragments across the world. Every god experiences a vision of their Domain's perfect Ideal, overwhelming their consciousness and causing a momentary blackout. Upon waking, only a faint point of light remains in memory.
DIVINE ACTION: Excelsis - Battle and Shatter Patron of Knowledge
Action Type: Combat with Cosmic Entity
Tier: NIGHTMARE - Attempting to capture/enslave fragment of Ideal
Patron of Knowledge shatters rather than submit to imprisonment
Most fragments captured in "Akashic Vessel" (stone tablet)
Some fragments escape into ocean, earth, uncertain spaces
All gods experience overwhelming vision of their Domain's perfect Ideal
Brief moment of unconsciousness (heartbeat duration)
Created Artifact: Akashic Vessel (incomprehensible to all gods) Created Mystery: Scattered knowledge fragments throughout world
Conviction Cost: 3 Turbulence:DISQUIETING - All gods lose 1 Conviction
Beneath the black shore, where Khthon had transformed flowing sand into solid, living earth, caverns were forming. The compression of matter created voids: vast networks of hollow spaces threading through the bedrock like veins through flesh. Some were small, no larger than a clenched fist. Others were cathedral-vast, their ceilings lost in darkness, their floors smooth and strange.
The earth groaned as it settled into its new shape. Minor tremors rippled across the surface. In places, the ground sagged unexpectedly, creating shallow depressions. In others, sand poured down into hidden sinkholes, vanishing into the underworld below.
But the caverns were not empty.
As Khthon's transformation spread, it encountered something already there, something that had been moving beneath the sand since before the gods awoke. Crystalline roots, slender and strange, wove through the newly-formed rock like cracks in glass. They glowed faintly, a dim phosphorescence that pulsed with no discernible rhythm. They emitted no specific power that could be named, yet they felt... significant. Ancient. Foundational.
Where the roots pierced through the cavern ceilings, they formed natural skylights: delicate lattices of crystal that filtered what little light existed underground into prismatic fragments. They were beautiful. They were growing. And they were spreading, threading deeper into the earth with each passing hour, as if searching for something.
The entity—whatever vast thing had been moving beneath the sand—was silent now. Trapped? Changed? Sleeping deeper? The gods would have to dig further to know for certain.
SUMMARY: Khthon's transformation of sand into solid earth creates vast networks of hollow caverns underground. The compression encounters mysterious crystalline roots that were already present beneath the sand—glowing, spreading, ancient structures that seem foundational to reality itself.
Across the nascent landscape, Alechior's Gambler's Grog Trees were spreading.
The original trees stood proud and bizarre near the shore, their sap-heavy branches gleaming with promise and danger. But nature—even divine nature—was not content to stay contained. Seeds, impossibly light and carried by winds that had no right to blow in specific directions, scattered randomly across Ashuru.
A seed landed in a crevice between two of Khthon's new stones. Another drifted into a cavern mouth and took root in the darkness. A third fell into the corrupted ocean and, against all logic, began to grow beneath the waves, producing alcoholic kelp-like fronds that swayed with the current.
The trees sprouted in inconvenient, chaotic locations: atop Khthon's standing menhir, in the uncertain mountains where geography itself was still deciding what it wanted to be, even in the sky where Moren's painted night met Arstus's stars—a tree growing from nothing, defying gravity, its roots drinking starlight instead of soil.
SUMMARY: Alechior's Gambler's Grog Trees begin spreading uncontrollably across Ashuru. Seeds scatter to random, often inconvenient locations—underground caverns, uncertain mountains, even growing in the sky or underwater—each retaining the 50/50 poison-or-pleasure gamble.
DIVINE ACTION: Alechior - Create Gambler's Grog Trees
Action Type: Create Magical Flora
Tier: HAZY - Magical plants with special properties
Domain Alignment: In-Domain (Gambling, Merriment)
Ripple: SMALL - "The Scattered Seeds"
Seeds scatter across Ashuru via impossible winds
Trees sprout in chaotic, inconvenient locations:
Between Khthon's stones
Inside underground caverns
Beneath corrupted ocean (alcoholic kelp)
Atop Khthon's menhir
In uncertain mountains
In the sky (roots drinking starlight)
etc.
Each tree retains 50/50 poison/pleasure property
Conviction Cost: 1 NOTE: Alechior also created alcoholic jellyfish (Lucid, 0 cost)
For Adria, Moren, and Arstus—those who had journeyed toward the angular structure that resisted direct observation—the journey ended at last. As they drew near, the structure solidified in their vision, as if their approach gave it permission to be seen.
It was a temple. Half-formed, half-imagined, built of material that was neither stone nor light but something in between: a substance that looked like solidified thought. There were no doors, yet there were entrances. No walls, yet boundaries that could not be crossed without intent.
Inside, the space was vast and circular. Around the perimeter stood alcoves, twelve of them, each perfectly sized to accommodate a divine form. Not sized as the gods were, but sized as they could be, as if the temple knew their shapes before they had chosen them. Each alcove bore a faint impression, a resonance that called to a specific Domain. One alcove hummed with the rhythm of earth and secrets. Another gleamed with the sharp edge of sacrifice and war. A third pulsed with the dizzying spin of gambling and merriment. And so on, twelve in total, one for each god.
At the center of the temple stood a half-crumbled throne. It was empty. It was waiting. And carved into the base, in a script that no god had ever seen but that each could somehow read (as if the symbols wrote themselves directly into divine comprehension), was a single question: "Who made us?"
The temple offered no answer. It merely waited, patient as stone, for the gods to fill its alcoves and decide what response, if any, they would give.
SUMMARY: The angular structure is revealed to be a half-formed temple with twelve alcoves—one for each god—surrounding a crumbling throne. At the throne's base is carved an unanswerable question: "Who made us?"
INVESTIGATING GODS: Adria, Moren, Arstus MYSTERY REVEALED: The Angular Structure → The First Temple Type: Pre-existing Mystery Nature: Temple built of solidified thought-substance
Features:
Twelve alcoves sized for each god's potential form
Each alcove resonates with specific Domain
Central half-crumbled throne (empty, waiting)
Question carved at base: "Who made us?"
Properties:
Resists direct observation from distance
Solidifies when approached with intent
No doors but has entrances
No walls but has impassable boundaries
Sarhush's fingers closed around the sphere of perfect smoothness.
The moment his divine essence made contact, the sphere pulsed—a single, slow heartbeat. It was warm. Not hot, but warm in the way living things are warm, as if blood moved beneath its flawless surface.
For an instant, Sarhush felt the sphere's true nature unfold in his consciousness: it was an egg. Not in the literal sense of a shell containing a creature, but in the metaphysical sense, a vessel of potential, compressed and waiting. It could become anything. A new god. A mortal race. A weapon of unimaginable power. A world within a world.
But only once.
Whatever Sarhush—or another god—imagined while channeling power into this sphere, it would become that thing, irrevocably and completely. It was the ultimate gamble: infinite possibility, singular outcome.
The sphere was inert now. Dormant. It required charging—a significant investment of divine Conviction to awaken its potential. And even then, the choice of what it would become would need to be made carefully, for there would be no second chance.
Sarhush held the Egg of Potential in his hands and felt the weight of futures unmade.
SUMMARY: Sarhush claims the sphere of perfect smoothness and discovers it is an "Egg of Potential"—a vessel that can become anything once charged with Conviction, but only once. Infinite possibility, singular outcome.
INVESTIGATING GODS: Sarhush MYSTERY REVEALED: The Smooth Sphere → The Egg of Potential Type: Pre-existing Mystery Nature: Vessel of compressed metaphysical potential
Properties:
Can become anything imagined after fully charging it
Requires significant Conviction investment to activate
Single-use only (irreversible transformation)
Currently dormant/inert
Possible Outcomes: New god, mortal race, weapon, world-within-world, anything conceivable Mechanical Requirement: GM will determine Conviction cost when activated (likely Surreal or Nightmare tier depending on desired outcome)
In another place—a place that was not quite a place, a space folded outside the material world—Sirna's planar realm hummed with contained noise.
The other gods felt its presence now, a faint pressure at the edge of perception. Some found it comforting, a distant lullaby. Others found it unsettling, like the moment before waking from a dream.
The realm itself was stable. Sirna had done well. But its existence had planted a seed in the world's foundation—a metaphysical promise that when mortals eventually walked Ashuru's shores, they would not merely live and die. They would dream.
The gift was not yet active, for there were no mortals to receive it. But when they came—and they would come, one way or another—they would close their eyes in sleep and find themselves slipping, just for a moment, into that strange space where noise and potential dwelled. They would dream of things that had never been, and in dreaming, they would touch, however briefly, the divine.
SUMMARY: Sirna's creation of a planar realm to contain overwhelming "noise" plants a metaphysical seed in the world's foundation. When mortals eventually arrive, they will have the capacity to dream—to slip briefly into Sirna's realm during sleep and touch the divine.
DIVINE ACTION: Sirna - Create Planar Realm
Action Type: Create Pocket Dimension
Tier: SURREAL - Creating space separate from material world
Domain Alignment: In-Domain (Dreams, Oblivion)
Ripple: MINOR (Delayed Effect) - "The Gift of Dreams"
Planar realm stabilized outside material world
Contains "noise" of potential reality
Other gods sense it faintly (comforting or unsettling)
Future mortals will have capacity to dream, among other things
Conviction Cost: 2
The world was no longer empty.
In the distance, beyond the uncertain mountains, the same low, resonant sound echoed once again—louder than before, more insistent, as if the events of this day had stirred something to wakefulness.
In the depths of the corrupted ocean, where knowledge fragments from the shattered Patron had fallen, strange glows pulsed beneath the surface—moving, searching, perhaps thinking.
And in the fog that still clung to the edges of the world, the eyes watched. More than before. Closer than before. The Watching Presence had been glimpsed during the firmament's fracture, and it had not looked away.
The gods had marked the world. And the world—and things beyond it—had taken notice.
Conviction Awards: +1 to all gods who posted since the start of the intro post (reached 25 posts in under 43 hours) +1 to all gods who advanced plot/created major content (10 gods: all except Saries and Ariander) +1 to Excelsis for Exceptional Roleplay +1 to Arstus, Moren for Collaborative Project (painting the night sky and dotting it with celestial bodies) +1 to Arstus, Moren, Adria for discovering a mystery: The First Temple +1 to Sarhush for discovering a mystery: The Egg of Potential
Conviction Expenditure (Other): -1 to Arstus, Moren for HAZY Actions (painting the night sky and dotting it with celestial bodies)
Turbulence Expenditure: -1 to all gods due to 'the Shattering'
The rupture in reality rippled like an aftershock through the air when Alechior came down from their high point, drifting lazily above the black shore with all the urgency of someone watching a street performance rather than a cosmic event.
The colors the Ideals left behind still faintly stained the sky. Beautiful. Terrifying. Alien. The kind of spectacle that would make most deity rethink their life choices. Alechior just whistled a tuneless little note, impressed in the same way a gambler admires a card trick he absolutely doesn't fully understand.
“That was flashy,” they said out loud to no one in particular, grinning. “Not sure what he shook hands with, but it sure wasn’t boring.”
The whole world had shuddered. Gods had staggered. Minds stretched to the breaking point by trying to comprehend beings that didn’t behave like concepts of this universe at all. Alechior? They just looked amused. Impressed, clearly but amused for sure.
“Should I be worried?” they continued their silent monologue out loud. “Probably. Am I? Not even slightly. This is exciting!”
Their eyes lifted as Excelsis hurtled toward the Ideal of Knowledge. The air hummed with the clash of metaphysical definitions of existence. It was the kind of spectacle one would pay their godhood to witness, surely.
Alechior laughed.
It wasn’t madness but it wasn’t bravery either. It was thrill. Pure thrill at watching the first real wager of the world play out. A deity trying to claim a being made of meaning. It was insane and really, really, thrilling to watch.
“That new one has guts,” they chuckled. “There’s always one who tries to pocket something shiny before learning the rules of the table.”
They floated higher, crossing their legs midair like it was the most natural thing ever. This was truly a spectacle that they really wanted to see.
The sky trembled from the metaphysical fight until it detonated. The Patron of Knowledge, which had gleamed like a star one moment, was gone. Its absence sat in the world like a pulled tooth. The only proof it had ever existed was the glittering rain of fragments drifting down across creation.
They took a moment to steady themselves, then laughed softly, shaking their head as they shook away what must've been a cosmic fight the world hasn't yet seen.
“So, the new kid picked a fight with the biggest book in the room and snapped it in half. Bold move. Stupid. Entertaining. Honestly, ten out of ten for commitment but, damn, that was stupid.” they said again to anyone who could hear.
And then the shock hit them. The moment of unconsciousness...
Alechior came to with a sharp inhale, like someone who had leaned too far back in a chair and nearly hit the floor. Their eyes snapped open to the real world, which was a relief because the last thing they saw behind their eyes had not been real in any way a universe should ever permit.
Their Ideal had shown itself.
Not the fun parts. Not the games. Not the laughter. The pure thing. The Perfect Merriment, the Perfect Gamble. The distilled essence of joy without cruelty, risk without malice, chance without consequence. It had been blinding in a way that had nothing to do with light. It had stripped them down to the truth of their Domain and forced them to stare straight at it. It was...beautiful. Maddening knowing that they'll never reach those heights and a risky gamble to even think of trying but they would. One day, someday, Alechior promised themselves they will reach those heights.
Then, darkness. A heartbeat. Maybe less.
When Alechior fully snapped back into themselves, the world was still moving. The sky was still bleeding glitter. The air still hummed with something sharp and not really real. Knowledge was falling.
Not as light, not as sound, but as meaning. Splintered concepts raining down like shattered glass across every corner of creation. Ideas older than old, truths that should never be known, secrets that had no business being released into the wild.
Alechior whistled again, softer this time. “Well… they just overturned the whole table.”
They drifted upward until they were nearly horizontal in the air, arms spread as if trying to feel the shape of the moment. Little shards of what the Patron had been flickered past them, bright like fireflies and heavy like destiny. Each one carried weight. Each one carried risk. Each one was a card from a deck no one should ever shuffle.
“Look at that,” they murmured, an actual note of awe slipping into their voice. “All that knowledge, flying loose. That is going to make a proper mess.”
A glimmering fragment spiraled close. Alechior tilted their head, watching it with the kind of interest a gambler gives a coin mid-spin. They didn’t reach for it. They knew better.
“Tempting though,” they admitted. “Really tempting.”
Below them, the others were stirring, reeling from the same blackout.
Alechior just floated there, watching the fallout.
“You know what the funniest part is?” they said to the empty air. “Most of them are going to try to chase this. Gather it up. Study it. Contain it. Pretend they understand it.” Their grin sharpened. “And it’s going to slip right through their fingers.”
Fragments hit the ocean like falling stars. Others buried themselves in mountains. Some sank into the earth itself. A few drifted toward distant corners of the world.
“There’s no putting that back. Not fully. Not cleanly. Knowledge is a gamble itself now. Every piece someone touches, every secret they learn, it changes the game.”
They rolled onto their stomach midair, chin resting on their palms as they kicked their legs lazily behind them.
“And I do love a game where even the dealer doesn’t know the odds.”
A single shard drifted close, brushing their fingertips before spinning away into the horizon.
Alechior watched it go with a smirk.
“Run along then. Let’s see who picks you up first.”
They stretched out like a cat in sunlight and let themselves drift backward, letting the knowledge-storm rain around them.
“I believe it will.” Adria answered to her sister in black. Her gaze lingered towards the sky itself before lazily gesturing towards it with an open hand. “This collaboration that you both have weaved together, replaced the sky of the ones that came before us.” She confessed though their was admiration beyond her confession, while gradually, her gaze turned to the marking world, watching carefully what her siblings had done. Each mark that the divines had made was beautiful, entertaining and, mysterious in their own ways, It would not be allowed without consequences.
If the markers of the first world could design the world that surrounded them but relinquish their responsibility to finish it, something had to claw at their heart. Though countless questions about their marker would silence as the temple revealed itself to them. A sharp gasp parted her lips as she flew in closer without waiting for the others. This had to offer answers that would silence her mind, answers that couldn’t wait. Brazenly, she landed in the temple. Her metal footsteps echoing back to her while she witnessed the different alcoves that spoke of divine.
Each one written, designed, and formed to fit her siblings to the letter, as if they were already planned. Pricks on the back of her neck lingered, as she circled around the crumbling throne while she searched for understanding. Was this passing the torch? Leaving the world to the hands of her siblings for reasons still unknown. Was it a precaution, something was hungrily ravaging the world and needed twelve gods to finish their work. Was their birth born out of sacrifice? She wanted that to be so. That this world was made from sacrifice, and it will be nourished with new creation.
Soon the clinking of metal stopped as she stared at her Alcove of Scafrice and War. Her domain, her responsibility to the newborn world. Adria stayed at her alcove for a moment longer, leaving a faint smile of uncertain purpose. Then the world shook. Tremors so powerful it made Adria plant her trident for support. Leaning in with her might wait until it stops. Yet it did not stop, as a sharp pain forced itself into Adria’s mind, almost as if the answers she desperately sought slammed a hammer into her head. Immediately she collapsed to the ground, her trident clattering against the divine stone while she gripped her head. Trying to make sense of it all and then… ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Blood. Adria was kneeling in a vast ocean of blood, as warring shadows that drifted into color filled all the empty space. Some were dressed in silver armor fighting against their own kind as their swords and maces ringed out Adria's name. Others were green with rippling muscles and having tusk that couldn’t fit in their mouths. Countless others took form as it was a never ending battle, and as the battle poured more blood into the crimson ocean, more bodies filled the space. While arrows and rocks flew into the air, crushing their marks with no remorse.
Adria tried to move, but she couldn’t as she was bitten by a snake with venom that dripped with dread and shame. It truly felt like time had no power here, that the only thing that mattered was endless hymns of clashing metal that cried out her name, and the cries of the victor praised her help. Anger festered in her heart the longer she stared at the countless bodies that laid on the ground. This was not what she wanted. Not ever. With wrath roaring out like a dragon she opened her wings, letting her crimson wings shine, commanding all to look upon her with the same dread that paralyzed her, as she deliberately slammed the air outward towards the bodies with fury.
The air from her wings roared out, forcing the moving bodies back into nothingness and forced the bloody ocean to dry out. Until nothing remained until it was black stone and corpses. Slowly by her command corpses rose into the air, their bodies darkening as they became stone. Solidifying the face of valor and courage onto their faces. Leaving only a plague that ringed out their name with honor. Then the world returned to the temple. Leaving Adria with what her domain was called to do. Her black massacre that rested below her eye began to drip. Leaving a faint black line down her cheek, becoming one with her final form.
She had her answers, not of her creators or what made the temple or none of that. She knew what her purpose was, what she would bring into the world. Her talon hands reached for her trident, aiding her while she ascended. Her lips remained silent as stood next to the stone for a moment, glancing at the divine message. “Who Made Us?” Her eyes lingered towards the question before she moved past the crumbling throne, confessing her answer. “Conflict.” ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Outside, Adria spread her crimson wings knowing the true meaning behind it. With a single crack of her wings she hovered above glancing towards the world below her for a moment. Remembering each marking her siblings had weaved and created for their benefit or their indulgence. She glanced towards the trees that were here before the gods. Letting her hand touch the bark of any of the trees that their makers left behind. Until she found a clearing that seemed to echo tranquility. This would be the birthplace of her creation.
With her trident planted in the ground she gathered her own thoughts of creation in secret, or rather she hoped. Carefully from the priced ground from her trident, slithering vines begin to emerge. Their vines did not echo the same colors of bark or grass, instead it mimicked metals. Each one different, some were as slick as silver, bright like gold, dark like obsidian, yet what they share in common are the crimson razor thorns that laid across their body. Either hiding among the grass or hanging around the trees, they were like stalwart defenders, ready to draw blood at a moment's notice.
Adria glanced towards her creation, it was small but it was hers, something defensive but still echoed her name. She couldn’t help but smile, it was something unlike the images that flashed in her mind. Something that still holds beauty and not yet the horror of war. Her first mark, The Thornsteel vines, the first defenders of the forest. She smiled softly before she searched for other ideas that could help her expand her mark. ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Create flora life; The Thornsteel vines Surrel: -2 convection
The Thornsteel vines mimic the color of ores and stone while having the distinct colorization of red thorns. What makes the Thornsteel vines interesting is their ability to think, trapping anything that is caught in their thorns as they believe they are protecting certain areas of the forest. Kinda like the strangle vines in harry potter but much more proactive and deadly.
"It seems so," Arstus spoke to Adria as he turned to face Moren. "Perhaps the start of more cooperation between us." Arstus would smile if he had a mouth, but instead, he simply nodded to her respectfully. He is the light, and she the darkness. Perhaps they can work together despite being opposites of each other. Only time will tell.
As the trio ventured past the fog and travelled for some time before reaching their prize. A temple, but, one not yet done, incomplete. Questions entered his mind, and as he ventured inside and took in what was there. There was a place for all of them, a place to spoke to him, like he was drawn to it. This was his place of the temple where he could add something. His own personal touch. This made Arstus have more questions as he explored the temple.
Who made us? Arstus thought as the words echoed in his mind as he read the carving inside this strange temple. Along with observing the properties of this temple, which made him question the words. This temple was for them, made by someone or something that was expecting them. Waiting for them to come to this place and... and. Arstus stood there for a moment in deep thought. More questions than answers, but it is clear. Whatever this world is or who created it, this is for them. The gods and whether or not this world is a remnant of something else or something new. Arstus hopes to discover in time, and as he thought about the words again. Why pose a question unless...
Before Arstus could ponder further, the earth started to shake, and then he received a painful vision. It was one of light, a light he had never experienced and never produced. A light from the stars so pure and radiant that it stood as a beacon in the darkness. Arstus tried to cover his eyes from the blinding light, but he could not move. Like he was being forced to watch the magnificent star shine so bright that its light enveloped everything.
For a moment, Arstus as the light overcame him, he felt like he was in some kind of limbo before coming back to reality. He dropped to his knees as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. After what felt like forever, Arstus recovered and stood back up. Once again gazed at the carving, and this time he had an answer for it. "Light," or at least that was his personal answer. For while one question was solved, who he was, other questions remained.
Which he took note that it seemed like Adria had left. Leaving only him and Moren inside the temple. But before Arstus would leave the temple, he decided to fill his alcove. Using his power, he filled his alcove with images both light and the stars. With the brightest star in the middle of the alcove and gave off some light. Enough to light the alcove but not be overpowering.
Once he was finished, Arstus would leave the temple, but he did one last thing before he did. He stared curiously at the half-crumbled throne. Arstus could feel like it was waiting for something, and wondered who this throne was meant for. One of the gods or someone else. Then he walked to the entrance of the temple and planned his next move as he scanned the landscape for any of his fellow gods.
Not long after the colorful god departed, Yzechr can feel it. The trembling, the quake, the feeling of the sky pressing down all of its weight on their unsolidified body. The god looks up toward the sky in time to see the Beyond. Something out of the border of this canvas they are playing in, the impossibilities staring back at them.
And then they see.
The maiden, glowing with light that can’t be fine in this reality. The lady from outside took the hand of a male god with a beard and stepped inside the canvas, inside Ashuru. Yzechr watches in astonishment as the sky slowly returns to its original appearance, dotting with stars and covered in silent darkness.
But before they can make sense of everything, another vision comes, this time inside their mind. The vision of perfect deception, of perfect corruption, so beautiful beyond words. And as quick as it comes, it leaves without any explanation.
And then the world faded into nothingness.
Time has passed, no one knows how long. The god of corruption looks up to the sky again only to see some sorts of objects scattering all over the sky like a beautiful firework, and a loud cry of yet another one of their kind, who sounds like they are mourning the loss of something important. between all of those events, a certain colorful god floating on top of the sky, watching it play out with a smile of amusement like usual.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself, my friend.” Yzechr said, raising up until they stood beside the god of merriment in the sky. “Remember, you own me one. Because even if you don't, I will always come to collect what belongs to me.” Even if they can't see what is going on at the other side, the expression on the femme god who is the leader of this little expedition has all the answer they want to know. Those guys certainly didn't found a single creature there.
Before the colorful god could respond, the black mist dispersed, disappearing without leaving a trance. Not only the mist changes color to be one with the night sky, but also cloaked in the power of concealment. The reason is simple: there is somewhere the god of corruption wants to go, and they feel like it would be better if they do it in secrecy.
The invisible mist flies toward the half-finished mountain range at full speed. Yzechr search their memory for a particular direction, the direction of that horrible low ringing sound which sent ripples across the world. They still remember the freezing heart at the moment when the sound rang like it had happened just a moment ago. And if the recent event can be any indication of things to come, Yzechr has a bad feeling about this.
They don’t know if anything can be found there, given the time pass. But the god of corruption has to find out for themselves.
Yzechr cloaked themselves with the power of concealment, hiding from detection. Then they try to investigate the low ringing sound in the mountain range.
Had he had lungs, Khthon would have been breathtaken.
He had thought his brilliant transparent stone a beautiful and precious treasure, but the crystalline tendrils he had found snaking under the surface of the world were on an entirely different level.
The way they moved and twisted, and then slowly stopped as the Earth around them solidified... They way they glowed and refracted light in colors that had never yet been seen in this world... They way they traced beautiful and intricate shapes throughout the bedrock, mixing with the stones' own natural patterns and enhancing them...
Beautiful. Entrancing. Enchanting.
Precious beyond measure.
His.
These were treasures meant to be kept safe and hidden. Meant to be admired and protected.
Perhaps it was greedy of him, but he did not wish to share the existence of such riches with the others. He was the one who had found them. They were hidden within his stones and his caverns. Those were his domain, not his God-Siblings'. They could find, or create, their own riches...
But then he thought of his God-Siblings who had gone over the horizon, driven by curiosity. His winged God-Sister had promised to share what answers they found, and though Khthon had only promised to find buried secrets, and not to share them, she did seem hopeful he'd cooperate.
...maybe he'd make an exception this time. Tell them of what he'd found, but not share the crystal veins themselves. He would offer the knowledge, and keep the treasures.
And then a great tremor shook the Earth, and a vision filled his mind.
It was a stone. Impossibly light and impossibly heavy. Impossibly large and impossibly small. It was everywhere, it was nowhere. It was a gap where there was, and something where there wasn't. It was brittle and soft and hard and brilliant and dull and easily shattered and malleable and every color that could be thought of all at once.
It was hidden where nothing could find it. Where no one could know it. Where all would forget it, or never know of it in the first place.
He awoke a mere moment later, as if nothing had happened. But something had happened. And though the exact details, the true magnitude of what had been escaped Khthon's divine mind, it had left its mark in thousands of ideas and possibilities. He knew that the power to give birth to a million of beautiful things, just like the crystalline veins and his brilliant jewel, lay within him. He knew how to hide and protect them from those who would covet them. He knew how to hide all sort of things, should he ever find something else worthy of being called a treasure.
He focused his will on the distant presence of the crimson-winged Goddess, as well as the dark Goddess and bright God accompanying her, and sent the message he had intended to send before the vision, showing his findings.
"God-Siblings. Hear me. I am Khthon of the Earth. Witness what lies below," he intoned.
Khthon sent an image of long, crystalline roots, small parts of a greater whole. He showed their movements, the almost physical sensation of them gliding through the sand, and the slow hardening of the Earth around them. The roots, growing and growing, digging deeper still, and the strange pulse of energy coursing through them.
"Such beauty. It is a shame to share it. I have claimed it. I will keep it safe within the stone," he finished, a hint of protectiveness tainting his usually flat tone.
Khthon shifted, and the rock now half-burying his body cracked. He could move to a deep, quiet cavern, far from his noisy God-Siblings, but he was feeling inspired, and did not wish to lose time relocating before creating his next masterpiece. He had the vision of a soft and malleable stone-like material, of a brilliant yellow color and shining finish. It would spread throughout the Earth much like the crystal roots and tangle with his future creations, or simply adorn already beautiful stones as a few flecks. It would be a beautiful addition to his growing hoard of hidden treasures.
He exerted his powers once more, and the first gold veins grew within stone.
- Sent a message through telepathy to Adria, Arstus and Moren (Lucid, free.) - Creating and spreading gold veins throughout the Earth (In-Domain, widespread. Hazy.)
Sarhush claimed the Egg of Potential unopposed. He lifted it up to stare into its depths, ran fingers over its surface and admired its perfect polish, so different from the coarseness of the sand underfoot. He understood deep down that this was a precious treasure indeed, but he knew not what to do with it.
There were others like him, wandering off or seizing the other objects strewn across the primordial shore. A misty fiend snatched up some pearl and then absconded into the ocean, tainting the waters even as it refused to so much as offer a name. Sarhush did not like that one.
Actually, he did not especially care for many of these strangers! Some looked to him during his naming of Ashuru, and though Adria assented to reporting her findings, she’d still led a whole group of them wandering off. Others were scrambling to their own devices right away, paying little heed to him. It was not proper, this chaos!
They all should have consulted him; together they might have determined a course of action, and then under his wise direction, set out on the great task of realizing their great plan. Instead it seemed to Sarhush that they were milling about like listless grains of sand tumbling in the wind.
When the Forms became momentarily visible, it stunned Sarhush there for a moment. He Saw many things: Ashuru, not just its likeness in the Me that he held in one hand, but the world in its vastness and entirety and untapped potential; he saw Civilization, the wild and empty reaches of Ashuru being tamed and cultivated with sprawling cities descending upon every valley and plain like morning dew, with shrines and monuments to exalt the rulers of Ashuru; he saw Kingship, the face of those rulers, his own face, and the order and efficiency that could exist if all others accepted his direction and authority and obeyed.
These were beautiful sights, and they were etched forevermore into the tablet of his mind. But the revelation and sense of wonder soon faded, and he was once more aware of his place upon that beach, surrounded by fools!
One of the others struck him as especially egregious. It was some sort of wild Thing that was running about aimlessly, licking the black sand, panting, and pressing Its face into the dark waters even after the misty thief had left some indelible mark upon the sea.
Sarhush watched the bestial Thing, entranced by its erratic nature and movements. It strode forward on uneasy paws, found its footing, but then began to violently shake. Sand went flying from its fur! ”And who are you?” Sarhush wondered aloud.
He could tell that It was strong, fast, perhaps even dangerous; yet for all of that, It seemed hardly more sapient than something like the wind. There was no discernable purpose behind what it was doing.
It needed direction. It needed Sarhush to guide It, just like they all did. This was the vision of Kingship that he had just seen! Sarhush began to approach It, for offering guidance was in his nature. The beast-thing’s ears perked up upon his approach and soon It had turned Its head to look back at him, primordial waters still dripping from Its mouth. It blinked, huffed, and with a stiff tail, turned around to face him. The Thing was large — even larger than Sarhush himself — and Its jaws were lined with fangs the length of knives. For his part, Sarhush was brave and showed no fear as he strode perilously close to It, a haughty and imperious air about him.
This shook the thing. It stared at Sarhush, a rumble starting deep in its chest. ”I asked: who are you?”
The beast barked. It was a low, deep bark that shook the shore and reverberated through Sarhush’s chest.
Yet that tumult was not a satisfactory response. Sarhush waited, but It said nothing back. The thought that It would ignore him was infuriating for a moment, but Sarhush soon realized that It might simply lack the wit to understand him. Perhaps this being was as the listless wind, existing in some state that was without reason, thought, or planning; something that had been incapable of viewing the Forms and grasping them. Perhaps it was just an object of chaos to be molded, fashioned into something better.
”What are you?” he tried one final time, now demoting it to a ‘what’ instead of a ‘who’.
There was silence. The beast was frozen as if it were a statue.
Clearly, it had no name. That made sense, for had the world itself not lacked a name before Sarhush proclaimed it Ashuru? He felt foolish now for not having realized sooner, but the others were no doubt watching him, and it would not do to make a fool of himself trying to speak to a nameless animal that lacked the wits to respond in kind.
”As you are lacking a name, I, Sarhush, will bestow one unto you,” he proclaimed in the same booming cadence with which he’d announced his name for the world. ”I style you…”
This was the hard part; he had not actually thought of a name yet. In a sense this creature was majestic, so grand and powerful in form, and perhaps Sarhush saw something of himself in it. Whatever the reason, he waited a moment or two and then gave it a name not dissimilar from his own: ”Saries!”
Saries blinked and slowly but surely relaxed its posture. It seemed that even such a primitive being was able to observe and comprehend the magnitude of Sarhush’s excellence! Perhaps even the lowliest of the low deserved a place, even if that was so low as to be nearly beneath his foot.
Sarhush realized that his hands were full; in one he held the precious Egg, in the other the Me of Ashuru. He needed one free, so he set down the Me and then approached Saries with an open, brawny right hand raised — ignoring the beast’s recoil — and set it on the nose of Saries. ”Obey my words and I shall give you purpose, too,” he promised.
Saries did not obey. Dismayed, the great beast stepped back from the noise and began to growl. It was a noise unlike any other, like the breaking and grinding of dozens of bones and the beating of drums. It was a noise that threatened violence and pain and death, a noise that came from a beast that did not know its place. This only irritated Sarhush further.
”Impertinent and ungrateful beast,” Sarhush spat, advancing a step closer to close the gap again. He would not be driven off or defied so easily! It was at that moment that Saries lashed out and quickly snapped at the other god, his teeth closing down on a surprised Sarhush’s arm. Sarhush howled with rage and shook that arm, but the beast’s jaw was tight, the grip of his teeth unyielding. Sarhush still held the precious Egg in his one free hand, but the thing was such a prize that even in that manic state, it did not even occur to him to let go of such a treasure.
So instead he lifted a foot and kicked at the beast’s throat, even as it shook his arm. Divine blood gushed out and fell into the sea’s dark water and upon Saries’ tongue; the taste drove the wild beast into even more of a frenzy. A furious Sarhush kept kicking at the beast’s chest and throat, again, again, and again!
Saries yelped through its bite, but still the beast did not loosen its jaws. As Sarhush thrashed and kicked, driving the two of them backward towards the water of the sea, Saries swiped with a mighty claw that caught Sarhush’s thigh and gouged the flesh there too. He was still trying in vain to wrest his one free whilst keeping the other one back, holding the precious Egg away from this maddened creature’s jaws. At least, realizing that he would never simply shake the beast off, Sarhush jumped up. Sarees’ neck twisted upward to keep its grip on the arm still, but now the divine beast had an angry ogre of a god half on top of him, and the weight and chaos of the struggle brought them down into the black water.
They had only been wading a moment ago it seemed, but now the water was all around them. It was as though the malefic ocean sensed their calamitous struggle–their distraction and their momentary vulnerability–and dragged them out deeper with its riptide.
In their wild thrashing, they soon found themselves so deep into the corrupted abyss of the sea that it had become impossible, even for the senses of a God, to tell which way was up and which was down.
The pressure was so great that, to Sarhush, there was no more noise. Even Saries’ maddened howls, growls and yelps had gone silent. The beast was there, the battle still raged, but the only sound he could hear now was that of his own heartbeat echoing in his eardrums.
Something scurried past, blanketed in the solid darkness. Saries looked the other way for a split second; Sarhush could not see anything of course, but he felt the moving of the beast’s head as it twisted the arm still caught in its bite. In that tiny moment, its jaw became loose.
Somehow, inexplicably, Sarhush still maintained his grip on the precious Egg. The black water seemed almost slimy as its loosened his grip on the glassy smooth surface, but through sheer avarice and force of will, he had not released it.
Time seemed to slow in the silent, suffocated mirk of the sea. Sarhush finally accepted that he could not swim or fight with one arm trapped in the jaws of a beast and the other one clutching a treasure. But he was not prepared to surrender this battle, nor to release the Egg. That left only one choice: to use the Egg to win this battle!
So with bubbles surging out of his half-drowned lungs, he smashed the Egg onto Saries’ head. The Egg cracked, unseen to the two of them. Sarhush brought it down again, and again, bashing the Egg of Potential upon the beast’s skull until the Egg began to come apart and fall from his grasp.
The Egg burst, and from within it erupted a viscous material that clung to Saries’ face and to right hand. This strange yolk coated the two of them, then swirled out through the black depths of the sea. It was both solid and liquid, and it was so cold and hot at the same time. There was motion around them, strange things coalescing about the yolk’s mass.
Sarhush paid that no heed, because the Beast had at last released its bite. Agony coursed through the mauled ruin of his freed arm, but with a triumphant kicking, Sarhush swam. He surged through the water, at last bursting out onto the surface of the sea as his lungs heaved and screamed for air. Water flowed from his hose and ears and mouth. Saltwater burned his eyes and blurred his sight. The ocean itself seemed to be laughing at all of this; he wasn’t even sure if he could trust his own senses. A moment of two passed, and he had barely recovered at all, but then there was a second great splash as Saries came up to crest the water.
Sarhush wasted not a second; every inch of him still screamed with pain, but with a great few kicks and strokes he closed the distance between himself and the beast and clambered onto its back. Even as it thrashed, he wrapped his bleeding arm around its neck and squeezed in a great chokehold. ”I have you now!” he roared, fury and glee and suffering all melting together into a madness that filled his voice. The accursed ocean’s waves cast up sea spray that seemed almost mirthful, the foam like its saliva as it watched all of this unfold.
Saries gargled. With not only Sarhush on top of it and trying to choke it out, but the waters that attempted to drag it down again and the Egg-stuff all over its face and inside its nose, mouth and eyes, it was unable to shake Sarhush off. With a terrible strength and the vigor of adrenaline, Sarhush squeezed and choked the great beast, even as its neck was so great that his arms barely wrapped all the way around it.
After thrashing for what felt like minutes, Sarhush finally felt the beast tense up, and then go limp. He choked it a bit longer to be sure, then began the long and arduous process of dragging the thing back to shore. He panted then, as the fatigue and pain finally set in. He collapsed beside the defeated beast, and as he contemplated his great victory, he realized that soon Saries would awaken, and if he was not prepared then there might just be another fight.
He needed to assert himself fully and end all future fights. As he mulled over how to do that, he suddenly felt presences around him. These were not just those of the fellow gods looking upon his triumph in envy and awe; some of them were the fearful and confused eyes of witless, dumb beasts. There were many, and they took all different forms; Sarhush had no names for them, not yet, but he witnessed the multitude of animals with fur, antlers, claws, teeth, hooves, snouts, tails, and tusks, as well as the forms of countless different plants and fungi and mold. There were also some strange beasts that stood upright, with a bit more intellect behind their eyes than the rest. Immediately Sarhush recognized those as beings greater than the rest; he had seen them before, or something like them, when the Form of Civilization had briefly been revealed to him.
So he knew what to do. With a great sigh and heave, he got back to his feet after what had felt like mere minutes of rest. All the animals watched him as he strode right up to one of the mightiest, a great horned bull, and wrapped one of his terrible arms about its neck and choked it into submission. A cow saw this and tried to flee, but Sarhush was mighty and terrible and fast when roused by a great purpose, so it did not get far. With the strength of a god, he hefted the bull over one of his great shoulders and the cow over another, and he brought them to a small clearing where he began to trap them in an enclosure, making some crude fence out of woven tree branches. Yes, there were trees all around too; Sarhush did not appreciate the wretched forests out of some innate hatred for nature, but he would destroy them later. ”“That is how it is done,” he proclaimed to his audience of mortals. He noticed that the curious upright ones looked very close to his own likeness, and this endeared them to him.
He sensed Saries begin to stir. Something manifested in his hand; it appeared as a great straightened branch of wood, a simple-looking shepherd’s staff, but he knew instinctively that this was the Me of Animal Husbandry.
”“Watch,” he told one of the curious mortal onlookers as he struck the waking Saries with his stick. As the Me rapped Saries, the blow imparted the truth of animal husbandry into the divine beast. Willing or no, Sarees now understood what it meant to be tamed and domesticated. Sarhush knew that this was a great triumph, but only the first of many. It was one thing to accept subservience, and another to be made useful and applied to grander purposes. Perhaps Saries could be taught to knock down trees?
Saries rose on unsteady legs for the second time since it had come to be. It scratched its face free of all the blood and Egg-stuff as best as it could, and stared at Sarhush. What started as a growl suddenly turned into a whine. It was clear to Sarhush that although the thing still wanted to fight, it was too injured and exhausted to bring itself to defy him once more. Saries looked away and, after a moment, limped its way to a great hollow tree near the clearing, where it settled down to rest.
Sarhush turned to one of the silent ur-humans that had been watching closely all along. ”“You,” he addressed it, ”“should do as you have just seen! Subjugate the beasts of this land; through dominating and mastering them, you will become that much grander and more powerful yourself: a master of beasts, ha! A god of sorts!”
These words only confused it; while they had the latent potential for speech and understanding, it seemed that they still lacked his great wit. Then again, so had Saries. It seemed to Sarhush that only he and maybe one or two of the other gods were beings of natural intellect; the rest would need to have such wisdom cultivated into them through practical instruction, perhaps occasionally reinforced through violence.
With a sigh, Sarhush hurled the Me of Animal Husbandry at the surprised human, who barely caught the thing. But then, it understood. The humans passed the staff around, each one seemingly momentarily awestruck as it was his turn to hold the stick, but eventually they’d all touched it and the thing made its way back to the greatest of them, that first one that Sarhush had bestowed the Me unto. That one was the first to turn around and leave; the rest followed. The humans soon made their way across the beach and into the forest, capturing and trapping animals and then bringing them back to makeshift pens and pastures. They had some quick success with a few beasts that would eventually come to be known as cattle, dogs, and sheep.
Whilst Sarhush witnessed the success of the ur-humans, he also saw that many animals, sapient or not, would visit the place where Saries had laid to rest to receive its blessing. These lesser beings, created by accident, would see their naturally flawed forms perfected by Saries, granting them a vitality unmatched. It was evident from a single look from one such as Sarhush that these blessed creatures would live longer and be healthier, but also that this blessing would fade in time with each passing generation. It seemed Saries was not capable enough to grant an everlasting blessing, which served as yet more evidence of who was the superior being between the two of them.
Having lost interest in Saries’ work, Sarhush foraged for some waxy plant leaves and reeds, and wrapped them around his mauled and bleeding arm as a crude bandage. He remembered then that he had set the Me of Ashuru down upon the shore before taming Saries, so he wandered off to reclaim it, only to discover some of the ur-humans gawking at the disc. As the benevolent god that he fancied himself to be, he decided to let them keep it; he had only two hands and carrying around a bunch of Mes with him would be a hassle! With nothing else demanding his immediate attention, the god Sarhush finally collapsed and allowed himself to fall asleep.
Sarhush gives Saries his name! And then he tries to tame the beast and it turns into a very violent struggle. Sarhush is bitten and clawed and bleeds divine ichor into the ocean and all over the shore; something might come of that later.
The Egg of Potential didn’t even last an hour before Sarhush ended up breaking it over Saries’ head. As the yolk swirled around them, it absorbed some of the essence and thoughts of the two battling gods. From Saries, all the forms of all mundane animal life (marine and terrestrial) that can be found on Earth were created.
From Sarhush, the Egg’s yolk manifested as humans, albeit these are very primitive and cavemen-like people for now.
After triumphantly “taming” Saries, Sarhush notices the other animals around and ‘tames’ the first cattle, creating the Me of Animal Husbandry. Both this and the Me of Ashuru find their way into mortals’ hands, so some of these earliest cavemen were bestowed with the knowledge of the world’s name and the concept of the world, as well as the ability to domesticate animals. The humans nearest to Sarhush quickly succeed in domesticating cattle, sheep, and dogs; the vast majority of humans probably weren’t close enough to all of this to have the understanding disseminated out to them right away, so many would still live as purely hunter-gatherers.
CONVICTION SPENDING:
Sarhush and Saries each spend 1 conviction battling one another on the shore and into the cursed sea.
The Egg of Potential is charged with 2 Conviction from each God in the midst of the fight, and then is destroyed during the fight.
Sarhush creates mankind from the Egg’s yolk for free (surreal action)
Sarhush spends 0 conviction creating the Me of Animal Husbandry and then gifting it to a few humans nearby that become his first followers. This grants animal domestication to them (in-domain lucid action)
Saries made all the mundane animals and plants for free from the Egg’s yolk (in-domain lucid action).
Saries spends 1 Conviction to grant a Blessing of Vitality to all Firstborn of every species who visited it whilst it was resting in the Hollow Tree near the first animal enclosure. This Blessing greatly extends the lifespan of every First of each species (Those born directly from Saries, not from mortal parents) and makes them generally healthier and more capable of surviving. This blessing will fade little by little with each generation, eventually leading to every species having a similar lifespan to their mundane counterparts. (In-domain, Surreal Action. Blessing is hereditary but fades a little with each new generation.)
Excelsis murdered the Patron of Knowledge. Orranoth would not stand for this. He was angry, and was ready to act. In a magical teleportation, Orranoth, Sky Father and god of Magic, appeared in Excelsis's presence. For a long moment, he stood, silently, and then raised his hand in a threatening gesture, raising a thunderbolt. "Give me one reason I should not execute you, evil god?!" He demanded to know.
The eldritch-looking god-orb covered by thousands of different eyes and tens of appendages was still examining the slate when his own, ill-understood god-sense warned him of the sudden presence of one of his kin behind him. He turned to see an old man god appear out of thin air, wielding a dangerous and glowing expression of natural power.
"You can... do that?" The god-orb said, both answering the god and posing a question. Excelsis had no desire to mock the old-man god, though his tone did betray a certain disbelief. Several whisker-like senses indicated that the flow and energy of the bolt were rather high. What an interesting phenomenon. Several eyes - the eyes of insects, bovine animals, and birds - shifted to look at the bolt. Still, he doubted that it could hurt him overly much. The accusation he most certainly brushed aside. Morality, as much as Excelsis understood it, could never really be more than a chain of the lesser to bind everyone out of fear of their own inadequacy.
"How are you doing that?" He asked, his attention clearly upon the bolt. "And the sudden manifestation?" He added as he went through his own memory. The god-sense, even if he barely understood it, could certainly tell him when some essence of divinity was being used. Yet it didn't seem to have told him about the method of the sudden manifestation. Some other, rudimentary, and crude new sense seemed to have given him even a fledgling of insight into some new universal laws. "You are using something else than divinity? What is it?" Excelsis asked with genuine curiosity.
"How are you doing that?" He asked, his attention clearly upon the bolt. "And the sudden manifestation?" He added as he went through his own memory. The god-sense, even if he barely understood it, could certainly tell him when some essence of divinity was being used. Yet it didn't seem to have told him about the method of the sudden manifestation. Some other, rudimentary, and crude new sense seemed to have given him even a fledgling of insight into some new universal laws. "You are using something else than divinity? What is it?" Excelsis asked with genuine curiosity. @ActRaiserTheReturned
"It's called Magic. Maybe you'd know about it if you weren't stupid enough to murder the Patron of Knowledge." Responded Orranoth, agitated. "Anyway, answer my question, why shouldn't I shatter you like you shattered him?" Orranoth was eager to at least get an explanation, even if he didn't get a fully satisfying answer, maybe he didn't have to attack. He didn't feel strong right now, but he was young, and maybe even stupid at the moment. After all, the Patron of Knowledge was just shattered, that was probably why.
"Magic? Curious." Excelsis said. As the method was named, Excelsis felt himself developing new senses to pick up on this magic. Crystaline protrusions grew, strange lenses revealed other powers in the skies. How curious. This magic was omnipresent and usable by seemingly anything and everything. Mastering it would be simple then.
The insult slid off of him like water off of a duck. He wasn't stupid. He was, perhaps, the smartest of them all. "Because any attempt to shatter me might break yourself as well." Excelsis pointed out. He would defend himself of course. "Besides, I only did what was natural. I saw a perfect version of myself and attempt to become it. Any reasonable divine would've done the same thing as I did." The god-orb said rather matter-of-factly. He did question why there were no more consumed Patrons and Matrons?
"Why do you even care for this Patron?" Excelsis went on. "They are of reality. We manipulate reality to our wishes. They are our natural born lessers." Again the question was sincere. It seemed that the god must suffer some delussion and the Lord-Eminence was determined to figure out what kind it was so he could better steel himself against it.
Alechior just laughed, tilting their head with an unbothered grin they wore better than any crown. “Then come collect, Yzechr, a bet’s a bet. I lost fair and square, and I’ll pay up when you knock on my door. Just make sure you bring that smile of yours when you do.”
Alechior watched the streak of black mist vanish into the horizon with a grin stretched across their face. They had lost. Not by much, not by intent, but a loss was a loss, and that made their blood hum with an electric thrill. “Well, well,” they murmured to themselves, clasping their hands behind their back as they drifted in a lazy spin above the world. “Guess the house wins this round.” Losing was part of the fun. Losing meant the game was real, the stakes mattered, and someone out there was sharp enough to pull ahead. The bet had been a gamble worth taking, and the colorful deity savored it even if it wasn’t a winning one.
Whatever favor Yzechr demanded, whatever game they chose to play next, Alechior would meet it head-on. After all, losing a wager only meant the next one would be sweeter. And Alechior lived for the next one.
After Yzechr left, Alechior drifted lazily above the shore.
Below, the chaos unfolded as two divines, a dog-god and a evil-looking-serious guy started fighting.
Sarhush lunging, striking, bleeding divine ichor into the black water, Saries snapping, clawing, yelping, rolling through the waves like a living storm. Alechior whistled a tuneless little note.
“And here we have the opening gambit,” they said, voice carrying over the roar of the ocean and the barks of the beast. “Look at that form! Precision, brute force, sheer audacity! The Artifact-thing, ladies and gents, now in play. And oh? What’s this? A counterstrike! Spectacular! Divine ichor on black sand, Who knew blood could look so...festive?”
Their eyes sparkled as the struggle descended into the depths, waves slamming the two combatants. Alechior’s grin widened, tapping an invisible stopwatch against their palm.
“And they’re under! The Riptide Edition! Sarhush refuses to let go, Saries refuses to concede. Technique, stamina, sheer stubbornness! Who will claim victory? And there it is! The Artifact-thing shatters! What a move! Unbelievable! A bold gamble to use the prize as a weapon but it pays off, folks! Chaos, carnage, artistry! That’s a ten out of ten for commitment, but the theatrics? Absolutely unmatched. Amazing fight from both parties!”
Alechior leaned forward, eyes scanning the black waves from above like a hawk surveying a racetrack. “Alright, folks,” they said, “we lost sight of the players as they dove into the Riptide Edition of the ocean, but there’s always a trail.” Fingers twirling in the air, they traced the shimmering currents, the faint sight of divine ichor and the scattered stuff from the Artifact-thing still clinging to the waves. “If I were a betting god and I am, our two champions are headed there,” they said, nodding at a jagged little island rising from the ocean.
They drifted down toward the island. The chaos of the waves faded as they approached. The island was alive with movement: mortals walked among a riot of plants, soil cradling seedlings and small trees. Dogs, sheep, and cattle wandered freely, some sniffing at the humans, others grazing, while birds flitted through the branches overhead. Everything seemed to hum with life.
Alechior’s eyes traced the threads of life, following the subtle interactions between the humans and the beasts. Some seemed to have taken a liking to the animals. "Interesting...lesser creatures. Mortals? Perfect." they said with a laugh.
A small group of the primitive type of mortals shuffled toward the edge of the island. Stopping, they crouched low, scratched at the ground, and after a few noises that sounded almost like words but weren’t quite. One of them jabbed a stick at a clump of grass and jumped back, half in triumph, half in fear, while another tried to mimic a bird overhead, flapping their arms with little success.
Alechior couldn’t help but grin, floating a little closer, still invisible to their eyes. “Ah, the classics,” they muttered, voice amused.
“The first mortals, still figuring out which end of the stick to wave around. Cute!” Alechior leaned back on an invisible chair, watching as the humans fumbled and stumbled, completely uncoordinated. Every misstep, every confused glance, every clumsy attempt at mimicry was a like and Alechior chuckled. But something was missing from them. It was clear from how they looked that they'll always stay the same. Maybe some might grow more hair or bigger muscles but that clearly wasn't enough.
Alechior’s grin widened, eyes sparkling as they hovered above the mortals. With a lazy wave of a hand, the small group of the primitive mortals lifted off the ground, floating gently in the air as though weightless. Alechior’s fingers traced arcs through the air, calming them giving them a bit of their happiness. “Easy, little mortals,” they murmured, “let’s see what you can really do when someone’s minding the table.”
Their gaze flicked across the island, scanning for the humans who had been given the Me of Animal Husbandry. Spotting one, a taller, steadier figure with a tiny spark of awareness in their eyes, Alechior extended a hand. The smarter mortal floated up next to the others, still unaware of the invisible god holding them. One by one, Alechior made the group fall into a soft slumber. Alechior guided them through the air, transporting to another island closer to the shore, one they've seen when they followed the two fighting gods. The island was devoid of mortal life but plants and animals seemed to have appeared.
Drifting down toward the island, the mortals still softly asleep in Alechior's grip. With a gentle tap, they set each one down on the grass, the descent barely disturbing the plants and small animals that had already begun to populate the island. “Alright, little ones,” they said, “time to wake up.” Their hand waved once more, a soft shimmer rippling through the mortals’ minds, their eyelids opening and their senses alerted. One by one, they stirred, blinked at the sky and the island around them, a mix of confusion and curiosity in their eyes.
Alechior’s eyes settled on the one smarter mortal, the one who had the faint spark of understanding. They floated a little closer, hovering just above the ground so their presence was undeniable. Pointing at the mortal, Alechior’s voice was calm but firm. “You,” they said, “you’ve got a gift. Make sure to teach the others what you know. Show them how to tend the animals, keep them safe, guide them. They won’t understand all of it yet, but you’ll do your best, won’t you?” The mortal blinked, their comprehension partial at best, yet the weight of Alechior’s gaze and the tone of command seemed to impress upon them a sense of purpose. Alechior gave a small, satisfied nod, hovering above them as the mortals began to stir and settle, the faint stirrings of curiosity and attentiveness already taking root.
"Oh, and one more thing. Your current forms? Clearly not enough. There you go! You'll love your descendants." Alechior added as a golden light descended upon the mortals. The godly blessing of genetic gambling was bestowed upon them. When their children will be born, they will be "human" for a few minutes before, eventually, magically alternating themselves randomly. Some would be bigger than big, some smaller than small. Some would grow impressive beards and be short of stature. Others would have long ears and slender bodies. While others...others might have different skin color, diseases or so. Anything was on the table as long as a table existed.
Soon after, Alechior drifted upward. They brought their hands together in a slow clap, and when they pulled them apart, a soft shower of spores drifted down from their palms. Tiny motes of life floated through the air, settling across the island, seeding the soil with a new type of plant. A happy plant.
Alechior sees the fight between Sarhush and Saries and comments on it like a sports commenter. As they follow them, they notice humans/mundane animals/plants appeared. They decide the humans are just not enough to be like they are so they kidnap a few humans, move them to a different island close to the shore and blesses them with the gift of genetic randomness.
Genetic Gamble – Grants mortals and their descendants indefinite, unpredictable physical variation. Each child may differ in size, build, facial features, ears, skin tone, or other anatomical traits. Outcomes are random and have no limit. Some may be extraordinary, others mundane. Effects persist across all future generations. This may also result in weird creations that may not be able to be sustainable with diseases that could appear as the genetics of the newborn not being able to survive, tho' the chances are very low in the first generations, later generations will see more randomness. In Domain Action - Hazy - -1 Conviction
Happy Plant - It's a plant made by Alechior that when fully rooted into the ground, it magically affects animals, mortals etc and makes them almost unable to cause conscious violence. It instead makes them be happy or content if the desire for violence is high enough. Strong willpowered individuals are able to resist this effect if there aren't too many Happy Plants around.
In simpler words, this plant stops conscious violence from happening unless one's willpower is strong enough to resist them and even then, they would feel like walking in quicksand. In Domain Action - Hazy - -1 Conviction
"Magic? Curious." Excelsis said. As the method was named, Excelsis felt himself developing new senses to pick up on this magic. Crystaline protrusions grew, strange lenses revealed other powers in the skies. How curious. This magic was omnipresent and usable by seemingly anything and everything. Mastering it would be simple then.
The insult slid off of him like water off of a duck. He wasn't stupid. He was, perhaps, the smartest of them all. "Because any attempt to shatter me might break yourself as well." Excelsis pointed out. He would defend himself of course. "Besides, I only did what was natural. I saw a perfect version of myself and attempt to become it. Any reasonable divine would've done the same thing as I did." The god-orb said rather matter-of-factly. He did question why there were no more consumed Patrons and Matrons?
"Why do you even care for this Patron?" Excelsis went on. "They are of reality. We manipulate reality to our wishes. They are our natural born lessers." Again the question was sincere. It seemed that the god must suffer some delussion and the Lord-Eminence was determined to figure out what kind it was so he could better steel himself against it.
"Magic? Curious." Excelsis said. As the method was named, Excelsis felt himself developing new senses to pick up on this magic. Crystaline protrusions grew, strange lenses revealed other powers in the skies. How curious. This magic was omnipresent and usable by seemingly anything and everything. Mastering it would be simple then.
The insult slid off of him like water off of a duck. He wasn't stupid. He was, perhaps, the smartest of them all. "Because any attempt to shatter me might break yourself as well." Excelsis pointed out. He would defend himself of course. "Besides, I only did what was natural. I saw a perfect version of myself and attempt to become it. Any reasonable divine would've done the same thing as I did." The god-orb said rather matter-of-factly. He did question why there were no more consumed Patrons and Matrons?
"Why do you even care for this Patron?" Excelsis went on. "They are of reality. We manipulate reality to our wishes. They are our natural born lessers." Again the question was sincere. It seemed that the god must suffer some delussion and the Lord-Eminence was determined to figure out what kind it was so he could better steel himself against it.
"They aren't rocks, or grains of dirt. They have feelings, identities, sense of purpose, and self awareness. There's so much more to them than just being tools." Orranoth pointed out. "If the only thing making someone worthy of life is power, then all living things are in a clear and present, AND future danger."
An invisble, metaphorical eyebrow was raised at the magic-god. "Do you... know what you are?" Excelsis asked with genuine concern. "I never denied that they were sentient beings with purpose. My dear kin they are so much more than that as well! They are perfection in an inherently imperfect world. Look at that! It is still shimmering in and out of existence!" The god-orb said one of his appendages, the leg of a horse, pointed at some far off half-existing mountains just to prove his point.
"But they are still our lessers." The god-orb continued, as it began to float around the magic god. "And it is our duty, as gods, to make the important decision and shoulder the burden to demand sacrifice. For the good of reality." He spoke with the divine authority of eminence now. Greatness always comes with a great deal of weight. "You are a god. You too will have to shoulder heavy burdens."
"Yet allow me to ease your mind. I do not intend to go along killing living things for no reason. The Patron of Knowledge had some... naïve ideas about his own concept. This had to be corrected. Sadly, we disagreed." A few eyes turned towards the slate floating around the orb. "Still, there is no Patron, Matron or other entity right now so foolish that it needs to be rectified."
3x Laugh
