Euvon awoke, stood, and stretched his body for a few moments. He paused, and looked at the morning sunrise, a thoughtful glint in his eyes. The God shrugged, efficiently taking down his tent, putting away his bedroll and few possessions, enjoying the crisp morning air. He took his up two innocuous rocks and struck them together, quietly humming a tune. A few moments later, sparks came from the stone, igniting a small pile of twigs.
Euvon took a frying pan from his pack, along with several strips of frozen bacon and two freshly harvested birds eggs. He deftly layed the strips over his pan, cracked the eggs and placed the yolks just over the bacon. He then held the pan over the flames. Half an hour later, Euvon sat on a log, enjoying his modest breakfast, two slices of wheat bread, in between them two overeasy eggs held several pieces of fried bacon.
As Euvon ate, he listened to the sounds of nature. A few birds chirped overhead, countless insects skittered underfoot, and, scarcely a mile away, a young doe and her two offspring lithely walked between the trees. Behind the undergrowth, a lone, starving wolf laid in wait. He obviously hadn't eaten in weeks, to quietly lay in ambush must've required commendable self-control.
The doe passed, the wolf did nothing, the first yearling passed, and the wolf remained silent, finally, the second yearling walked ahead, and stopped, alarmed, ears twitching. The wolf pounced, viciously biting into and tearing out the juvenile doe's throat. Dead, but not knowing it, the yearling cried out, its mother and sister glanced back, and fled as swiftly as their legs could carry them. The mortally wounded yearling darted forward, intending to escape, falling dead in two footsteps.
Satisfied with his catch, the wild sat on his haunches and feasted on the carcass. The God paused for a moment, and sighed, before continuing his breakfast. Such was nature, the cycle of life. Beautiful in it's primality, cruel in it's savagery.
The God's thoughts turned to a more grand scale. Already, he felt the tremors of Godly power shaping the Earth, he nodded. Soon, he would take on the mantle of Godhood, as was neccessary. If he didn't maintain the seasonal balance, who would? The Eversummer lay stagnant, choking in endless warmth. Summer was one of Euvon's favorite times of year, but to have it remain all year long? No, that could not be allowed.
A great many mortal races dwelled across the Earth, that was good. Variety is the spice of life, essential to any successful ecosystem, yes, but it felt as if something were... absent. Euvon felt lonely, surrounded by the sounds of nature. Though he did not want for company, he felt... hollow inside.
Euvon finished his breakfast, and stood, stretching once more. He cracked his knuckles, and began to speak a strange tongue. Almost poetic in tone, it resonated deeply, seeming to touch the Earth itself. He unsheathed his blade, a humble yet masterfully shaped iron knife, and cut away the bark of a nearby pine tree, taking it into his hands.
He gazed into it, and knelt, scooping up a good handful of dark soil, sprinkling it over the bark, chanting rhythmically as he did. Finally, he took a deep breath, and blew a glowing mist over the contents of his hands, scattering the bark fragments to the wind. The bark pieces landed, and were bark no longer.
Hundreds of elegant, curious figures peered inquisitively at their creator. They were no taller than a man, slender, startlingly robust, long limbed and graceful in their movements. Their bodies were formed of bark, sediment, and a sort of faintly glowing green moss, all perfectly uniting to form a kind of flesh. Each had three long fingers and two long toes, mossy hair hung from their heads. Their slightly glowing yellow eyes were evenly spaced above a slim, powerful nose, and a small, toothy mouth.
Two kinds were visible, both male and female, clothed in leaves for the preservation of modesty. Their bodies were firm, rippling with viny sinew, leaves running down their backs, almost catlike in stance. Euvon spoke, and as he spoke the sounds of Spring rang through the air, forceful yet loving in tone, as a father might speak to a beloved child.
"My children, you are my firstborn, formed of the essence of Spring. As Spring begins the Seasons, so my children begin with you. I have gifted you life, and through your devotion, life you shall give unto me. I name thee Hortis, as thou art of Spring. I give you these commandments, and ask that you keep them.
Always respect yourselves, respect others, and respect nature. Never seek to bring harm nor ill to others, unless they should do so to you. Remember, as the Seasons turn, Spring shall pass, this is the rightful course of nature and cannot be denied. All Seasons have merit, do not despise any, for each is holy in it's own way. Never seek to halt the wheel of the Seasons, for only ruination shall follow.
Keep and protect nature, only take what you need. Never waste, for want shall follow. Always remember I, Euvon, Harbinger Of Rebirth, Timeless One, He Who Turns The Wheel, Lord Of Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter made you of nature, and into nature you shall return. Give thanks to my name, for I have made you and have given you guidance.
Do not turn astray from these commandments, for they are wise and shall bring prosperity to those who follow them. I have spoken, Hortis, go forth and live your life as you will, and know that I shall watch over you, all the days of your life."
Finishing his speech, the God of Seasons, shouldering his pack, walks away from the Hortis, purpose in his mind, determination in his step.
1 Springbound Act: Euvon brings Spring to the North, and creates the Hortis, the Sons and Daughters of Spring. They are lithe, vibrant, and in touch with nature. The Hortis prefer to avoid civilization, prefering nature instead. They are somewhere between a vegetable and an animal, made of plant matter, but having fleshy bodies.
They avoid combat if possible, and enjoy peace and quiet. The Hortis live for thirty Springs, and can give birth each Season, maturing in only five Springs. The Hortis are weak, but agile. They are omnivorous, and have no qualms about hunting or fishing, which they do skillfully.
Hortis are very individualistic, relaxed, happy, and playful. They don't take much very seriously, and they love a good joke or prank. Hortis view dance, song, and music as beautiful, and partake in these activities often. Normally, Hortis live in small, nomadic families or occasionally, tribes made up of families.
They gather into large camps every Spring to give birth, find mates, exchange stories, and conduct Religious festivals honoring the Seasons, and Euvon, their creator.
1 Winterbound Act: With a thunderous breath of cold, Eversummer's eternal Summer draws to an end. Snow begins to fall, cold fills the air, and the creatures and vegetation of Winter take root within Eversummer. The change is gradual , and will last six months, before giving way to Spring, leading into Summer, and into Fall as nature prepares for the cold, and finally into Winter, before cycling back to Spring to spin the Seasonal wheel once more. If Eversummer's Summer is too strong, the temperatures will at least fluctuate in imitation of the proper Seasons.
Free Action: Euvon travels across the North, personally and humbly teaching the Northmen, Wildkin, and Skrettir of the intricate balance and wonders of the Seasons, and of the part he plays in Turning The Wheel.
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Topic: Pantheon III IC-Thread (Read 2389 times)