Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

[forsaken1111]

You are Antediluvian. You have existed since time before time. You walked the sands and seas before the Christian God Y'weh, in a fit of pique, flooded most of the world's landmass and wiped away nearly everything.

You are titanic in power, but fettered by age and the heavy influence of this new age. You have lain sleeping for so long, dormant, torpid. Your form is murcurial and immaterial, changing to suit the whim of your dark and alien dreams. Now a plant, blooming and beautiful. Now a crystal, cold and severe.

Something has caused you to stir. Your form to sharpen. You take shape. Your mind yet sleeps, but soon will bloom.


Be you animal, vegetable, or mineral?

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

This is part writing exercise for me, part forum game for you. Style may be a bit odd as I experiment. Have fun with it, no poop jokes, and keep it PG-13 pls.

[LuckyKobold]

Be you animal, vegetable, or mineral?

Why, We're a Specimen of The Rarest Form, We are the one. The only. Mineralistic Vegetable!

[Salsacookies]

I am a mineral. The Salt of the Earth

[forsaken1111]

You are mineral, Salt of the Earth. You grow in strange branching form from the depths of the earth.

As awareness creeps and nibbles away the edge of sleep, your mind blooms.

A thousand thoughts, a thousand lights. A riot of color and sensation as the standing wave of your consciousness stabilizes. Signals are interpreted in delicate silicate structures encased in salty mineral, and a god's mind is born. You think, therefore you are, and what you are is glorious.

You understand, in an instant, the vista presented to you.

A cave of stone, roughly-hewn. You are deep within the earth, hidden away from the deluge that was anticipated. Y'weh did it's worst but you have survived.

Strange... you are lethargic. An outside influence shackles you. Your glittering form, reminiscent of a crystalline tree, quivers with quiescent power. You cannot act, but for the first time in an age you can think.

Beyond the veil of stone and earth around you, from far far above, you hear buzzing and rumbling. Something is alive and moving far away, on the surface of the world. The buzzing you perceived in your delicate structure, a humming but modulated and intelligent. There is information here... some of it highly ordered. The rumbling is low, rhythmic, and much closer.

You begin to rediscover ancient memories. You were a God, once worshipped, long since forgotten... but you retain some of your former power.

What was your Focus in former life? What kind of God were you?

[PrivateNomad]

A poop god. Our focus was cleansing the bowels!

[LuckyKobold]

We Were the God of Annoying Mortals and focused on the Time-Honored Sport of Underpants Wrestling!

[Salsacookies]

A poop god. Our focus was cleansing the bowels!

+1

[forsaken1111]

Your form shimmers, grows darker. The blues and whites fade, replaced by streaks of red and black. You remember.

You were a god of conflict and savagery. Certainly your followers had some strange interpretations of your principles, but your core portfolio was simple. From Conflict arises Order, and Order is the key to Strength. You manage and organize, you eradicate Chaos through conflict. Your followers were legion, now all gone... all that you knew was wiped away in the worldwide flood of Y'weh's wroth.

Your form ripples as you relive those times. Needle-sharp spines of crystalline silicon extend through the mineral crust covering your form. Anger and madness chase each other around in your mind, reflected outwardly as your form seeths. The bindings constrict in response. Your myriad surfaces piece together an image which rapidly sharpens. Even now your mind is refining its interpretation of the signals pulsing along a thousands traces within your form, converging at the base.

When you exerted your Will, several runic symbols along the periphery of the cave began to luminesce. What is this archaic runework? Such infantile forms cannot hold one of your power. You push, and feel the bindings tighten further. They are constricting you in strange ways, unfamiliar lines of force are acting on your very being. This is a cage.

You blaze with anger. While you slept, some tiny being thought to contain you with these ridiculous claptrap scratches? Fool though he may have been, he did his work thoroughly. You are fully and firmly shackled within this place, but you think that perhaps you may be able to extend a smallest fraction of yourself outwards through the very stone.

But where? Up and up towards the buzzing? Out and up towards the rumbling? Down and deep into the dark?

Where will you reach?

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

No poop jokes. My one request. I guess I brought that on myself. But this being an exercise in writing, I am ignoring that and interpreting LuckyKobold's response as a god of conflict instead with some lost-in-translation dogma

[Ama]

Down deep into the darkness.

[LuckyKobold]

Down deep into the darkness.

NO! There aren't very many Mortal Slaves in the Caverns, Instead Let's Go Up!

[Detoxicated]

Down deep into the darkness.

+1

[Ama]

Down deep into the darkness.

NO! There aren't very many Mortal Slaves in the Caverns, Instead Let's Go Up!

But we are a God of Conflict and Savagery which the darkness of the underground is always ripe with.

[Hawk132]

Down deep into the darkness.

+1

+1

[LuckyKobold]

Down deep into the darkness.

NO! There aren't very many Mortal Slaves in the Caverns, Instead Let's Go Up!

But we are a God of Conflict and Savagery which the darkness of the underground is always ripe with.

Hmm, Good Point. +1

[forsaken1111]

Internal conflict. Your mind is split. Up above may live mortal slaves to dominate. No mortal could resist your Will in close proximity, whatever their strength. You could form a new Age of Strife and out of that conflict will be born the greatest race this world has ever known. Such were your plans before the flood.

But....

Down deep, where mortal minds fear to tread, there are other possibilities. Ancient things, Deep things, things forgotten and things in hiding. Power dwells in the deep places of the world, power which may free your glorious Self.

Your mind settles. You will delve the depths in search of power to break these claptrap bindings.

A root extends from your crystalline Being, threading carefully past ward and stone. It burrows deep, invested with the smallest portion of your Will. Once separated from your Self, it digs and digs. Down and down. It passes rich ores and glimmering gems, reporting back its findings via the Ether. Its voice is strange, limited, different from before. As if something else were causing great disturbance in the Ether. As if speaking in a howling gale, but you detect nothing but the same faint buzzing from above. An annoyance.

The smallest part of you scavenges as it digs, taking parts of the stone and earth and making them into itself. What began small soon grows strength enough to push beyond the bedrock below. It stops suddenly, signaling a cavern ahead. A tunnel. Unnatural.

Something lies buried here? Through your smallest Self you see, a darkened tunnel of rough worked stone with supporting timbers. Some sort of panel is affixed to one wall with pigments in strange forms... some kind of writing which you do not know. It is crisp, precise.

"SHAFT 12 CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE"

You ponder the meaning of these symbols. Ahead more timbers cross the entrance before what seems to be a rocky jumble. A cave-in?

Inspiration hits, this is a Mine? What age have you awoken to that mortals no longer fear the depths?

Nearby lies a strange construction which smells of metal and oil. Your smallest Self, no more than a foot of crystalline structure, is dwarfed by the large steel mechanism. You have never seen its like.

Beyond the rocky jumble, all is silent and still. You sense an open space there, behind the barrier.

What will you do?