The end of everything
The God King of Hell battled the very Abyss itself, The Light of Creation warred with the Void of Nothingness. Entire planets were tossed about as weapons. Ancient, terrible horrors from beyond reality tore asunder the very fabric of space and time.
As existence itself heaved its final, ragged breath, the old universe shuddered and died.
As things began to sharpen into clarity, the Lord of Atheism slowly opened his eyes, looked around, and yawned. And then frowned.
Damn it, not again, was his first thought. And then he began to remember more of what had happened; he had joined with deities vast and powerful, many of whose names he refused to even speak. Unlike Atheos, the other gods had believed in themselves—and maybe that was why they believed they could die, destroyed along with the universe they had fought over.
But Atheos had pushed on, too strong—or stubborn—or something else. It was hard to remember much of what had been, or who he was, but there were vague outlines, patterns of how the universe should work.
And as he saw ideas and forms begin to take shape in the distance, he realized: this time, he was one of the firsts. Which meant he could really make a difference in the new universe. And he frowned slightly less.
Quietly, he settled in, and watched from the formless shadows as he waited for the universe to exist again.
And as the god of reason watched, the darkness watched back. An unformed being of complete irrationslity, purest instinct in divine form, twitched and writhed in its stupor like a great beast bound and drugged.
In the beginning, there was indeed the darkness. The void sprawled on, and all that remained of the old universe was... nothing, at first. But vestiges of the gods lived on, for gods are difficult to destroy.
From that formless darkness, another entity begins to take shape, another fledgling god born from the old world's leftover essence. At first he, too, has a form of bestial instinct, a roaring, thrashing shape, but it soon coalesces into something more akin to Atheos: the primal urges controlled, directed, shaped through force of will into something more orderly. As he thrusts his head forward from the shadow, truly taking form, it is still that swirling, primal essence.
"I am Apedemak," he utters, and his voice is filled with the power and authority of divinity itself. "Lord of conquest and the throne."
Before
The end of the universe was beautiful, in its own way. Existence unraveling into endless, unbound chaos had its own, paradoxical pattern, hidden somewhere in that infinite mess. Colors clashing, matter disintegrating, people dying, people comforting each other.
She watched it all, tears in her eyes. It was beautiful, yes, but this would not be how it ended. This would not be how everything ended. It was not the universe's time yet. It was not her time. After all, it wasn't finished.
And so the circles rumbled with power, the metal gleamed and glistened with steam. Mumbling to herself, she raced around the room, fixing that, tinkering with that, even as everything was crumbling to dust. But something was missing. Some essential component, lost. The last piece was not in her lab.
She ventured out into the Last City, where the world's last living beings came to be together in the world's final hour. Old feuds were put aside, love blossomed out of hate, stories were shared, and ideas never enacted were stirring to life. All of that was beautiful in its own way, as well, but it was not what she sought.
The other woman was at the end of the city, watching the stars blink out one by one.
She cleared her throat. "Um, hey," she began awkwardly, waving at her. The other woman turned around, startled, then her expression softened into a smile.
"Where have you been? I.. I thought you'd come watch it with me," she asked, head cocked to the side in that intangible way of hers. The way that she was never able to dissect, to define, no matter how hard she tried. And, strangely enough, she didn't want to.
"I've been working," she said, shifting from foot to foot.
A soft, tinkling laugh. "Working? You know that you can't finish her. Not in the time that we have left. And it won't matter anyways."
"But it needs to be finished!" she yelled, before calming herself down. "And... and I might be able to save her. Somehow. And maybe everybody else to. But... but I need your help."
The answer, of course, was immediate, as it always was. "What do I need to do?"
She worked, she prayed. She calculated, she hoped. All though the last night, they loved each other, fiercely and without question. They loved the work, they loved their daughter. She loved natural beauty, she loved created perfection. She loved wildness, she loved logic. But their daughter came together all the same, a paradox like the beauty at the end of the world.
The workshop was the only thing left when the finished, the light inside of the glass globe that was slowly taking form the last created thing in the universe. As they both crumbled into dust, they leaned in for one last kiss before everything became blackness.
Now...
In the nothing, there was a spark. On each side of the spark there was rigid logic and order, and writhing chaos and wildness. The two came with the spark's genesis, impelled by the force of the spark's parents two opposing, magnetic natures.
As the two gods watched, slowly coming into themselves, the spark unfurled, its bright gold-crimson light slowly coalescing into the shape of a young woman. Who, surprisingly, immediately began babbling like a fool.
"Oh! That's what existence feels like. That's a rather unique sensation, isn't it? All of this... being." She paced in the darkness, her hair aflame and her eyes sparking. "Hm. It isn't supposed to be like this. No, no, no! This won't do at all!" Her hands twitched and writhed as she began plotting out wild formula, ideas racing through her head. "If I exist, other things have to exist as well! Otherwise that's just being selfish, keeping existence all to myself, isn't it?" And, with great speed and fervor, she began creating.
The Instinct saw the Spark. Existence. That was new. It heard the proclamation of Apedemak, the first speech. Identity rode upon it and power too. Those could be its. It should have those things.
As if on a whim the Formless turned in on itself and collapsed, dragging everything nearby in with it. The haphazard creations of the Spark swirled around the Formless in a chaotic Cocoon for a time as something inside took shape.
From the Cocoon of Creation mighty Zakaz was born.
The Cocoon slowed in its churning as the thing inside grew. Finally it ground to a halt. Mountains, dust, gas, waters, mud, and a million billion other motes of Creation Stuff stood frozen and the Progenitor stepped forth.
First to emerge were brilliant claws of starlight. They flashed sliver and red as it shredded its womb from the inside out. Next, its head. A great Cat with teeth of steel and sleek hair the color of the Lightless itself that flowed from its snout. It's eyes were as furnaces of blue fire as they beheld the world.
The Cocoon stained to hold him. It squeezed and stained, trying to contain the power of the Beastfather. He turned and tore his birthplace to shreds. He took the dirt in his claws and throw it below him, and from that the Ground formed. He snatched the waters and tossed them into the sky where they formed clouds and fled from his fury. He breathed in the gases and Store them in the First Roar. The earth shook and rippled. Rocks were blown from their place as the Wind was born.
The Progenitor, the Beastfather, roamed all he had made.
I am Zakaz. He proclaimed in a mighty roar for all to hear. And I am Alive!
And as the First Roar echoed forth from the maw of the Progenitor the nothingness fled. The Roar drove it line a deer from the thicket or a rabbit from the brush out into the viod and away. Zakaz stood upon his world, the ruins of his Cocoon, alone.
The ruins of the universe roiled and swept through the void as time cracked under the onslaught of the immense wave of the chaos which shattered causality itself. For eons, seconds, moments there was disorder but in the disorder were motes, eddies of power - the last vestiges of what had once been. The eddies shifted in the sea of disorder and began to coalesce into islands of stability - of order and its mirror - chaos. As effect began to follow cause, so was born a pattern and from the pattern a melody. Stuttering at first then growing, matching the harmony that incessantly, inexorably began to shape itself. And as the first notes of the SONG resonated, so was born as its inevitable outcome one who could see the pattern, one who was the pattern. Araneae danced, marvelling in the threads of cause and effect that rained past her. Possibilities, moments in time, notes in the song... potential, possible futures. But the pattern was obscured, drifting in and out of sight, in and out of audibility, in and out of thought. And as the material took form - birthed from the birth-roar of another, Araneae wove a great web in the void, capturing motes of possibility from the order and disorder of the new universe. And so were the stars themselves born, and Araneae turned and looked at the new universe and the entities even now forming within it.
Atheos had little memory of what or who had fought beside him in the last world. But he recognized the patterns of the new things. Chaos and instinct: powerful natural forces that would exist with or without worship or acknowledgement. Other things would follow—life, and time, and society, and magic.
Perhaps they would become dangerous soon, seek to destroy or remake the world again as they grew bored and egotistical; but for now, they were vital concepts, and any interference from the Lord of Atheism would be a crime of divine meddling.
Still, he had an agenda. For a second, Atheos was a grand equation written across the whole of the material plane; the physics of small things, the geology of continents, the mathematical formulae governing natural selection. Rules that could give the universe predictability, self-determination, growth and change even in the absence of divine intervention. “This is a blueprint, not a demand,” he called out to other things that moved, “Suggestions older than this world, or any of us. But I will be back, and I will be watching.”
And then he disappeared, for a time.
In a space hidden from the world, Atheos was free to be himself; a swirling tempest of formulas and negation. Lines swirled and scoured across the nothingness, stretching into splines, surveyor’s marks, vectors and circles that bent into something more simple and solid than matter, walls and stones built of manifest existence rather than quarks or waveforms.
If he had power over this world from the beginning… he would build a place that could protect the gods from accidentally damaging it, a dimension that could be a battlefield, prison, or laboratory on which other beings might practice their schemes without destroying the material world in the process.
“Come, Aped,” a voice whispered to the “Lord of Conquest” who had spoken the first words. “You’ve arrived early. There is no place in this world for either of us yet. I have built a second place, to wait and plan, for a time; you should join me there.”
Gradually, Atheos’s new plane began to spin as it grew, separating into seven concentric rings of reality, ranging from swirling chaos on its border to absolute order at its center. And, ring by ring, the seven wheels of the Great Axis spun into shapes of geometrical precision and architectural accuracy.
First to form were the Empty Fields; a vast plain, ringed by mountains and the swirling chaos of nothingness, forming the seventh ring of the Great Axis. Perhaps someday, a great battle would be fought between gods or monsters; though he saw no use for it now, the Lord of Atheism figured it made sense to create a space of nothingness, in which any foolishness of the gods would be too isolated to possibly result in fallout.
At the inner edge of the fields, Atheos placed the sixth ring, the Circle of Halls; vast and empty chambers, open to the sky and not yet decorated by any touch. These would be a place of neutrality, for treaty signing or great feasts. Perhaps some god of overcompensating would claim one or several of the massive halls as his own, but this would be fine; far enough from the center of the plane, Atheos paid them only slight attention, turning his more complicated machinations inward. Here, too, were massive doors, jutting out of the empty fields at strange angles, with no support; someday, if necessary, these could be connected to other planes, forming a neutral place for gods and their allies to travel through.
The inner five layers of the Great Axis, as they slowed in their orbits and clicked into place, would comprise a massive, ordered city, ringed by simple but impenetrable walls. Most of this would be taken up by the fifth ring, the Walled Gardens, a network of caverns, grottoes, and chambers each larger than any real city. Connected by thousands of miles of paths and walkways, the Gardens, some walled by stone or glass or metal, could function as laboratories, prisons, zoos or galleries, each built to contain its contents completely. Here the Lord of Atheism, and any who requested space in the gardens, could create and experiment with new forms of life, art, or science, in a space that kept everything else safe from their presence. (Or, if needs be, could imprison their most dangerous enemies, monsters and demons and things of chaos)
The fourth ring was the city proper, an empty thing of streets, zones, frameworks and foundations. Some buildings stood empty, others as mere possibilities; there would be plenty of time to find a purpose, name, and residents for this city, but for now Atheos was concerned only with what it could become, an idealized template for all the advances of civilization.
The fifth ring, buried deep within the center of the city, were the Courts of Reality. Here, Atheos built a string of empty courtrooms, with seats of every size and kind; this close to the center of the Grand Axis, reality began to thicken, and the nature of the plane made it such that no ordinary being, mortal or divine alike, could speak falsehood or intentionally mislead in other ways. Perhaps the universe would have no need for judges, and that would be good; but if it did, the Lord of Atheism built the courts to try the rules of physics as well as those of the gods, a place within which reality and rationality could be utterly enforced, their laws agreed upon and recorded for all time.
The sixth ring, rising on a great central hill above the rest of the city, was the Universal Observatory. Here, on a path that spiraled upward, sat rows of empty laboratories, filled with the abstract notion every scientific device the Lord of Atheism could faintly recall from the past world. In time, perhaps, they would grow more real, able to measure and quantify the fundamental constants of the entire universe. At the top of the path sat a flattened dome thousands of feet across; perhaps it might one day be filled with massive engines or telescopes with which to view the other planes, though it currently bore only a single scoped lens, through with Atheos and the other residents of the Great Axis might be able to observe the basic creation of the world in silence.
And finally, at the center, rose the seventh ring; a cylindrical tower, growing endlessly upwards from the city and into what passed for a sky. This was the Great Library, where Atheos would build his home at the Axis’s center, recording what he could about the world itself. Inside, rows of shelves spiraled upwards; these would grow as they filled out with books, spawning contraptions and stairways for readers to reach higher and higher levels. Here, regarding his creation as finished, the Lord of Atheism became a thing of ink and motion, and began to write a record of the First Roar and the Spark of Creation.
Apedemak watched as the others stepped forward, proclaiming their names, their beings. The Spark was creation incarnate, he sensed, the very element of creativity and genesis; she was born of that mysterious realm between idea and action, imagination and reality. The Beastfather was a thing unto itself, wild and instinctual, its form seething with the raw life of nature. Apedemak saw and heard and felt and respected them both: Tissari for her capacity to shape the world, and Zakaz for his power and simple, honorable nature.
As the Beastfather roared and turned its claws, it began to shape a world in the void, and alongside it another worked--Araneae, the SONG, and Apedemak saw and heard and respected her also for her passion and beauty. As Zakaz built the world below she placed stars in the sky. Apedemak stepped forward, his hair flowing back, and he raised his hands as if to shape his own creation--but then the first watcher, Atheos of order, called to him from... somewhere else.
Apedemak looked upon his fellow gods, and saw that they were making good creation of their own. "I will return soon," he spoke, and then he turned into the darkness once more and vanished.
The third and fourth rings, Apedemak did not see with such wonder, for they were places too civilized for his taste at this time. Apedemak was a god who respected order and purpose, certainly. But he did not yet embrace such things as cities and places of containment; and so he strode through these realms, ever watching the path which Atheos laid.
Now when he came to the fifth ring, Apedemak took pause. Here he felt the civilized world, yes, but at its deeper core something more of interest to his being. Here, he sensed an underlying purpose, an order to the ways the worlds themselves would become, the principles which had been handed down even unto the beginning of all things. The Courts of Reality, you see, even then held the truths of reality and rational thought; and Apedemak was filled with wonder at such a thing. So while Atheos shaped on, to the very center of his Axis, Apedemak stayed in the Courts, and learned the ways of the world, the laws that should govern its shape and function.
And because gods do not share the perception of mortals, it was only a moment he spent there, all in all.
It seemed no sooner had Apedemak left than he returned, and he saw that the others had continued to shape the world. He saw the creation below him and he stepped down and forward, and moved through the void until he came to stand upon the surface of this new place. He cast his eyes about and came to an empty place, not yet shaped by other hands, and he came to rest there.
"What we need now," he said, "is a place from which to view and shape our world." And so Apedemak plunged one hand into the earth and took hold of the ground, and he hunched down on his mighty legs. Then, with a roar and a tug, he launched himself high into the sky, and pulled the earth along with him. There was a powerful shuddering, and the stones and dirt which formed the world were stretched under him, and they rose so far from the ground that a man could not see the top. The earth rose as far as Apedemak had leapt, and when he reached the peak of his great vault, he had no more than to stretch his legs and he stood upon the great mountain he had made.
Then he raised his great hands above his head, and slammed his fists to the ground at his feet. The tremor knocked the ground flat across in a wide circle out from where he stood, only curling up slightly at the edge, and the peak became a flat plateau as high as Apedemak's vault had taken him. In the center was a small raised circle, where his fists had first struck, and when Apedemak stepped down it was about waisthigh to a god. He looked about him and smiled, for he had worked with great success, and he called from the plateau to his fellow gods.
"Hear me, brothers, sisters! This is my first work in this world, a place of communion and gathering for us to discuss our work. It shall be known as the Vault of the Gods, and shall stand for time immemorial to serve for our meetings and business." Then he stood tall and spread his arms wide. "It is an open place, and belongs to all and none. You are welcome here, should you wish to come."
From inside the book Shess had looked on, amused. Watched in satisfaction as the old world was torn asunder. Watched in awe and splendor as everything was torn apart...Torn apart...no. Those words did not accurately describe how this appeared to one such as Shess. Those words were used by those whose fates were tied to that world. Used by who Shess once was. But no longer. ..the straw that breaks.. Shess had become a being with much less limitation. Looked at thing from a different view. Shess watched the old world beautifully unravelled. Watched as the infinite became finite and thus created a destructive paradox. From Shess' view everything unraveled. Slowly at first, like a thread being tugged on. The unraveling sped up and soon the thread was all that remained. Then soon it did not.
Well, that's it I suppose....I wonder...I wonder if I'm alone....I'll just read up on what it is to be...me...
...Oooh, now this is good...It seems simple enough...just to make sure I know when things get started...
...I mean, I survived, so it's only a matter of time....
Time. For Shess it seemed like an eternity and yet a blink before there was action. Time felt different for Shess.
Apademak, Lord of War, the book recorded. Tissari, the Inventor.
My my...it has begun... Shess was pleased Now it is my turn..
Zakaz, Herald of Life | Zakaz and Araneae weave a plane | Zakaz creates a world | Araneae weaves a web, can see as we | Aethos weaves another plane | Apademak forges the land
This is all so interesting...but my presence need not be known yet...that is not part of the plan...
The Wound of Zakaz
When the world was new and shifting still under it's own weight Zakaz wandered among the barren plains and furious volcanoes. He reveled in the size of it all, the Activity! Then Atheos spread across the sky the Words, the essence of what was, the laws of what could be. Zakas saw. There needed to be more. Life, it was called. More like him, but not like him. Death was also necessary. Zakaz learned.
Across mountains and over oceans Zakaz traveled until he came to the first shard his starlight claws had ripped from the Cocoon of Creation. It was jagged and sharp and contained the most of his essence of all the places in this world. Zakaz raised his paw and struck the Shard, gashing it. His blood dropped golden and bright as a sunrise and wherever it dropped plants sprung into being and spread out across the surface. Trees, grass, moss, and shrubs all taking their place in the world. Zakaz started to run, and wherever he ran, so spread the plants. Where is foot pressed, there sprang from the pool of golden blood the mice and squirrels and deer and oxen, all manner of animals to balance the plants and see that they did not grow beyond their bounds. For 40 days and 40 nights he ran, seeding the world with life.
The Hunt of the Great Deer
When Zakaz had finished spreading his blood over the whole world he came to rest by the Shard of the Cocoon of Creation and licked his wound. The last drop of his blood flicked off his tongue and landed on the Shard. From that drop sprang the Great Deer. Powerful and swift were it's legs and bright were it's eyes. He looked at Zakaz and ran as the wind runs from a hurricane. Zakaz raised his head and tore after the deer. Thus the Hunt of the Great Deer began.
Swift was this prey and agile. It leapt mountains in a single bound and ran across the waves of water like solid ground. Twenty times Zakaz struck the deer, and 20 times the great predators sprang into being. Zakaz struck in the mountain and the Eagle burst into flight in the sky above. He struck on the plain and the Lion sprang forth from the blow. He struck in the jungle and the Tiger melted into the trees. He struck on the Ocean and the orca and shark dove into the depths. Upon isalnds, bays, rivers, and hills, 20 times he struck until finally, at a place where the land and river met the sea in the shadow of the Shard, Zakaz finally caught the deer and slew it with a mighty bite! His roar of triumph gave purpose to his children. They were the shepherds of the world. They would protect the plants from being eaten into nothing by killing the other animals that had sprung from his blood. In return, the animals would be spared starvation.
It was then that Apendemak forged the Vault of the gods from his world, and Zakaz felt his power, heard his voice. He left part of himself featuring upon the deer with his predator children and went to the Vault. It was tall, towing above the world like the trees that had just started to take root and grow.
Zakaz crouched and jumped, flying to the top of this Vault in a single bound. He landed lightly and stalked around the circular gathering. He never stopped, never rested, and from the dust of his claws upon the stone high flying birds were formed.
You are the Voice. He who spoke in the void. You are Apendemak. He says without words, a growl and snuff, yet completely understood.
Apedemak regarded the first arrival to the Vault. The great beast, whose form had just been lent in parts to the predators who rose in his footsteps in the world below. "And you are the Beast and the Progenitor. He that cast down the Cocoon of Creation to make this world, and he who populated it with blood and spirit. You are Zakaz."
Apedemak met Zakaz's eyes, and held his gaze, and though mortals can only hope to know what passes between the gods, it seemed that Apedemak came to know something of Zakaz in that stare. "It seems we are the first. The first to walk this land, the first to meet and talk as brothers."
Zakaz snuffs There will be others. Someone spread the Words across the sky. Someone put the lights in place. They will come. Eventually.
Zakaz stalks around one of the thrones, his entire being exuding the easy confidence of one unchallenged.
Why did you make this place? What is it's purpose? He sniffs about the throne, investigating. Still, not a word came from him.
Aranae felt the tugging of fate in her web - the trace of divinity acting on the surface of the world, and so she looked and saw the creatures that Zakaz had brought forth. Aranae looked and frowned for, though the creatures and the plants had the semblance of life, the other god had erred. And so she drifted, and came to the place where the Beast and the Voice had met, appearing as a drifting web of shimmering lights that mirrored the stars. And she spoke to Zakaz saying, "I have seen the fate of the world - the tangled potential of what you have wrought. You have brought forth wonders. But without time existence is nothing. Without effect, cause is meaningless."
And so, once again casting her gaze to the motes of fate that adorned the sky she watched as the stars began to turn in the heavens. And casting her eyes downward she watched as the things Zakaz had created began to live. And Araneae spoke again. "But with time comes disorder, entropy. Just as the old universe died, and the new was born, so must living things die and be born. I have seen the course of fate, the strands of possibility. Life must be bounded in time for life cannot be without death? I have seen it, for it is inevitable"
Zakas looked down from the Vault and beheld the first living gasps of what he had wrought. You are the Dancer in the Sky. The Shepherd of thought. Aranae.
You have given my children a great gift. Such a thing cannot be accepted without a gift in return.
Into his claws he took a strand of her divine web. He fashioned it into a small animal much like the goddess herself and blew the creature out into the world. Thus Spiders were born as a gift of life in return for life.
In a far away spot of the new universe, a prison of a sort floated in space. The crystalline structure spun and tumbled among the aether. Then suddenly, a planet appeared out of nowhere, created via divine will. Decrees backed by the power of the gods were set into motion. Such incredible amounts of deific energies proved to be enough to shatter the prison, releasing its lone occupant: A new deity, or rather, an old one from the prior universe.
He appeared on the new planet, seeing the wild elements, the rush of the mighty rivers, the powerful winds as the scour the land, the destructive cleansing ability of fire, the steady, solid surety of the earth.
He sensed all this raw, untamed power, gaining insight and inspiration. He wandered the world, roving through the forests, trekking across swamps, climbing up mountains. Exploring anywhere and everywhere he could. Lir, as was often the case, became lost in this thoughts, his dreams and desires.
And then, a voice rang out across this infant world, calling together all those who desired to gather. He appears at the Vault of the Gods, and nods his head to all in attendance "Well met, I am Liriiestil."
Liriiestil stands about six feet tall, with short black hair. He has piercing blue eyes, a goatee and an all around roguish look to him. Calling him devilishly handsome would be pretty accurate. He does not appear strong, but definitely has a deceptive, lithe strength.
He's currently wearing black leather armor with silver accents, and his longsword and rapier hang from his hips. He also has a bow and quiver strapped to his back. In short, due to being imprisoned during the height of the war that ended the last universe, he's dressed for combat.
...!...
...that power...
Feeling the decree, Shess looked to the new recordings in his book.
...Hahaha! Yes! Life is now definite!...
Shess was pleased.
...but who?...
Shess focused on the new entry and he could see the scene. Atop the formed plateau were four diefic entities. One a giant radiant man. Another, a giant radiant what was once an elf. Yet another, a giant quadruped predator. And finally, a collection of stars held in shape by a web. Shess watched for a time to learn what he could of these others. And waited..
And there was a pause, and the sound of a faint crack; and a door, twenty feet high, opened in a solid stone cliff near where the other gods stood. On the other side of the door were rolling fields, with a city on a hill, of unclear scale, visible in the distance. Through it stepped an old, bald man, short enough that even Liriistel towered over him. He waved to the lionhearted god, but made eye contact with none of the others.
"So..." Atheos grumbled, in a voice that, while not overly loud, did not diminish with distance, echoing calmly across the face of the earth, down from the Vault of the Gods and across the planet. "Looks like the gang's here, mostly. Let's see... we got three heroes of an old world, myself included. Plus Time, and Nature. That's good, seems like at least some of the essentials. Progress is missing, I'm not quite sure what she does, but I think she's the one who woke us up. Maybe she'll show up later."
"Seems like we're all doing names and hobbies. I'm Nobody, and my thing is making sure the world keeps running when you lot turn your attention away."
Araneae beheld Zakaz's creation and released a musical, melodic laugh that echoed through the Vault of the gods. "My thanks, father of beasts. I foresaw the creation of such creatures, but their source was hidden from my sight. These wonders are a gift indeed!"
While Zakaz created the world, Tissari defined it. She created mathematics, she created physics, she created the idea of sentience, of passion, of creativity.
And, while the other gods met, she created. First, a whirling, floating rock, above Zakaz's land in order to avoid disturbing it's natural beauty. After all, the nature of the place wouldn't exactly play nice with anywhere else.
And then she rested, for just a little bit, and let her wildness, her creativity, her feverish vision, spread across it.
Volcanoes sprouted like flowers, exploding with the force of Tissari's own spark. Great sandstorms roared across the vast desert. Roiling thunderheads expulsed torrents of rain upon the island. Huge, all-encompassing quakes threatened to shatter, but never followed up on their promise.
And then Tissari created life. Life that would not only survive, but thrive in the harsh, beautiful, wild, ordered, environment.
The irtara are a race of monogendered feminine humanoids. Their skin is smoky-grey and hardened, and their veins glow with a brilliant blue light. Their facial features are similar to that of humans, but their eyes have a blue glow, and their hair is solely made out of that cerulean energy.
Unlike Zakaz's beasts, the irtara subsist off of creative energy. The Mind Storms of Kirtavo grant basic subsistence to the irtara, but in order to thrive, they need to constantly innovate, to create, and to invent. Consequently, they quickly form an advanced society, using an Aetherpunk advanced concept in order to create and form technological marvels. (Look up Kaladesh to see what I mean here.)
The irtara have similar demeanors to Tissari herself, manic and inventive, and are constantly pushing the edge of what they believe is possible. They love passionately, invent fervently, and hate extremely rarely. Irtara mostly confine themselves to friendly rivalries, in order to further push themselves, but the rare few that do develop feelings of animosity are often ostracized by their peers.
Due to their nature, the generation of "creative radiation," as they call it, through, well, creating things, has an effect on their bodies, expanding and bloating them, giving the appearance of obesity. This, however, is seen as a mark of distinction among the race, as the larger the body, the larger the body of creative work.
The lifespan of an irtara is dictated by their creative work. A particularly uninspired one may only live for one or two decades, while a legendary inventor may live for centuries, if not milleneia.
Finally, she was done. At least for now. Tissari smiled wearily, yet brightly, upon her creations before flying to the Vault. "Oh! So you're the others! I saw other things being created, and, well, you know, I was somewhat wondering who was doing the creating! Pleasure to meet you all. My name is Tissari. You can call me Tiss if you want. Or Ari. Or anything, really. I don't mind." She rubs the back of her flaming hair while looking about the vault. "So, what's this about, eh? Interesting place. Nice architecture."
Zakaz looks upon the newcomer. She smelled weird, and he growls. The Spark. The Furious Creator, the Mad Maker of That Which Sails Above. Tissari. We meet here. We discuss as equals. Why are you skittish so. You smell like a mouse, though your power is clear to see.
Tissari giggles and raises an eyebrow. "Why are you so serious and growly? I suppose you have a point, though. It's just how I am. You hunt, I make. I can't really stop making, really. I think that's what you're talking about?"
Zakaz huffs and resumes stalking around the Vault. Her ideas were wild, untamed, much like his own beasts. He could respect that, he guessed.
Zakaz stalks around the Vault to the one dressed in what smelled like rotting skin. I have not felt your power. Who are you, Liriiestil, and why do you dress in another's skin?
Atheos shook his head at Zakaz. "It's... not literal skin. Leather. But in this case it's just an illusion. I don't think Lir over here killed anything; he merely wishes to appear as though he wore the trophies of some hunter. Just like I don't really need crystal circles in front of my eyes to see, or eyes, for that matter."
"Actually, okay. That's my second lesson. First was a story about how things worked in the old world, seems like a few of you all enjoyed that one. Second lesson is: Don't take any of us, standing here, at face value. That's going to be hardest for you to understand, Nature. But we are all things of power and depth, more than we seem, and what you see here is a statement on what we think we are, not what we are."
Naturally. Zakas responds with that superior gaze only a cat and achieve. That still doesn't change the fact that this one has chosen to state that he kills my creation and uses their hide for clothing. So I ask again, who are you. Another Predator come to challenge the Progenitor, perhaps?
Atheos, about to explain the misunderstanding to Zakaz, thought better, and said nothing, curious to see what sort of rivalry this might lead to.
Lir smiles, "I was a great warrior and general in the old universe. I lead armies of my people against endless demonic hordes, countless legions of hell, and swarms of daemons. I slew more fiends than there are grains of sand on the beach. I have killed nothing here however. At the height of the Last War, I was imprisoned by an incredibly powerful daemon, in an eldritch prison, helpless to protect my people. Thus, the garb you seem me in was what I wore in battle."
You are a predator then, but not of my kind. Very well. Zakaz nods and stars stalking about again.
And as the gods met, and talked, a bit, the world began to change. Subtly, at first—the stars overhead winked out, one by one, as giant rocks blocked them out. Above the Vault of the Gods—above, in fact, most of the continent, Tissari forged ahead, focused hard enough to ignore the actual practicalities of what she did.
Suddenly, cut off from the light of the stars, the world was plunged into complete and total darkness. Birds chirped in fear, then fell silent. Moths, with nothing to guide them, crashed into trees. The great beasts of the land, predator and prey alike, burrowed into caves or huddled together for warmth, frightened and confused. Even the gods were cast, for a second, into pitch blackness, until a few began to glow with their own light.
"Damn it, child!" the Lord of Atheism shouted upwards into the darkness. "Watch where you create next time! We were trying to have a conversation down here, and... no, EVEN WORSE, that thing's a direct violation of the rules you just put into the world! It could crashing down at the slightest provocation or accident, and MURDER half the life on this planet!"
But as he shouted, Atheos had already began to climb, walking an invisible staircase up into the sky, one step at a time, then ten, then a hundred, until he was a point of glowing light high above, a single artificial star in the otherwise black sky. His arms reached up, becoming a great circle, a diagram of Kepler's Laws of Orbit, the Newtonian physics governing rotating bodies, as he stretched his hands two thousand miles apart to grab the continent of Kirtavo by its sides, and began to pull them together. A groaning creak, and then a deafening roar, echoed down from the sky, as the Lord of Atheism bent the floating continent into a rough sphere.
And then, in a single fluid motion, he kicked the thing. Hard. Hard enough to tear some of the planet's atmosphere away, following the spinning rock into space, its Irtara screaming in first confusion and then, perhaps, delight at their speed and uncertainty. Tissari's mindstorms and volcanoes crackled and glowed in the sky, a pulse of sudden brightness that dulled to a steady white and orange glow, as, high above, Kirtavo began to fall, and continued falling, a steady orbit across the sky that cast new light down on the vault of the gods.
* * *
And, on the surface of the world's new moon, Atheos looked down at the other gods, and opened a new door to the Great Axis; stepping through it at a brisk pace, he quickly returned to where the others had assembled on the mountaintop, once again bathed in starlight.
"Sorry about the distraction," he grumbled, "Let's get back to that conversation, and maybe Progress will join us down here." The Lord of Atheism did not look sorry.
But still, the gods notice that Zakaz patrols around Lir a bit more often than the others.
Zakaz watches as a new, smaller world is created and literary kicked into obit. He can feel the trauma inflicted on his creation, but that is not what occupies most of his attention.
There is life there. LIFE I DIDN'T SPAWN!
I sence life there! It's not of a kind with mine! Does it have a Predator? It must have a Predator! He roars.
Tissari blinks. "oh. Oh! That is a fantastic idea! Why did I not think of that!"
At Zakaz's furious inquiry, Tissari cocks her head in confusion. "Do the intara really need one? To be quite honest, they're more of a danger to themselves than anything else is. Still vastly resilient, but they have all of my curiosity and restraint. And even with their unique adaptations, the weather will do some of them in. And the lava. And the quakes."
"Well—they're separate for now," Atheos points out. "Maybe worry more about that later."
Lir eyes Zakaz with amusement "Easy kitty, no need to get so worked up. There are no rules here, save what we make. So no, they do not need anything, predator or otherwise, unless we say so."
Zakaz growls, a thunderous rubble that shakes the ground. Predators are vital. They control growth and ensure resources are plentiful for all. Mark my words: Without a predator to keep them in check these being will eventually overcome their environment and consume all around them. That is the nature of Created.
When the others arrive, Apedemak smiles and welcomes them. "My most heartfelt greetings and deepest respect, brothers and sisters. It warms me to see that we might gather in this place to..." He trails off as conversation begins, particularly when Atheos and Tissari speak. As they talk of other things, he stands by, his arms folded and a slight frown on his face. "Have you no sense of grandeur?" he mutters beneath his breath; and though gods are quite perceptive, his words are more thought than breath, and so they could go unheard entirely.
Still, a gleam of wonder and joy rests in the god's eyes, and he claps and marvels at the creations that appear: the floating island Tissari made, and Atheos's alteration to form the moon. As the group comes together once more, and discussion arises of rules and needs, Apedemak nods and booms out once more.
"This, brothers and sisters, is why I have made this place, why I called you here: that we might speak with one another, as equals in this new world, and determine how we might create. There are many pieces that will come together to shape this reality, just as we have come together here. I propose a pact: we shall form a bond between us, that we shall use our power for the good of our creation, and shape it as we see fit, in communion with one another. Let there be no rifts among us that cannot be sealed, no injuries that cannot be licked clean and sewn shut with time and effort to do so. Let us exist in harmony, though we have our different ways; and we shall be only the stronger for it."
So saying, Apedemak brought his hand to his mouth, and with one tooth he brings ichor flowing from the palm. He extends the hand forward, offering that the others might do the same and take it.
This concept of a pact or gathering was not unknown you Zakaz. Many of his favored Created like the Wolf ran in groups. However, this grouping was much more prevalent in prey than powerful beings such as themselves. He watches the others and guages the reactions of each to determine their thoughts on the matter.
And what if the good of my Created conflicts with the good of yours. He growls.
"Then we seek neutral ground, the best for both that we may find between us. See how Atheos has cast the land of Tissari high into the sky. Where there was darkness now is light; where conflict existed, now there is harmony." Apedemak looks up to the new moon, and the beams from its light meet the beaming of his gaze. "This is a good thing, a marvel of the gods and a showcase of our capacity for creation and unity. So too is the land, which teems now with life and beauty. There will be conflicts, that is certain; but it is my hope that we might work together to overcome such discord, and guide this universe to fruition and peace."
And if I become dissatisfied with how this pack runs, may I exit, or must I claw my way out?
"Of course, it is free to leave should you so choose. I would never wish to put constraints on another, certainly not one so noble and free as yourself."
Zakaz rumbles in thought. He sits for the first time and looks to see what the others may do.
"I don't know, Aped," Atheos replied, looking skeptical. "I think I know your type—real interventionist, right? I like the idea of resolving our differences with words, but I'm not sure if right we'd agree on enough to work closely together in the long term. I think I need to hear more about your goals, and the 'shared purpose' you'd like to propose."
...Hmmm..
As Shess watched on.
...Almost...
Apedemak was a god made of stern stuff, and all men know he regarded demeanor as important. But at Atheos's words, he all but sputtered before responding. "Interventionist? We are gods, brother! I do not claim this world as ours, to be toyed with like a child run amok, but we are its shepherds, its creators. Should we not reach out to guide that creation to fullness?"
He shook his great mane behind him, and spread his hands wide. "The very issue of difference is what gives rise to this covenant. Of course, there shall be disagreements. What one god thinks best for their creation, another may reject. This is the way of things. My goal is to simply seek peaceful resolution where it may be found--and to offer a bond of strength should conflict be the only end. Even amongst our gathering I am certain there will be strife. But brothers and sisters in blood and in oath will have cause to refrain from true violence against one another. Where one god might normally seek to strike another down, we might hold competition and sport. Conquest without death--that is the most honorable way."
Apedemak then leaned forward on the table of the Vault, and cast his gaze upon each other god in turn. "Our purpose is only the creation and continued existence of this new universe. Make what you will: beasts, songs, stars, ideas. Only remember that it is our divine mandate and duty to take care of our creation. Conflict is the course of things; it is as natural as the laws which Atheos and Tissari set down, as primal as the children of Zakaz and the world they walk, as beautiful as Araneae's stars in the heavens. But surrounding that conflict, harmony must remain--to set us on the path, and keep this world from returning to the destruction from whence it was born."