And so time eventually marched onward. The etternal beat of the universe drumming steadily... Beat... Beat... Beat...
Beat... Beat... Beat, went the drums of war. Spring had blossomed into Summer on southern Verdance, and the Army of Summer marched northward into the Heart of Winter. The army had tapped into something different than the gods. A force older and more primal than any of the deities presiding. The ebb and flow of Nature had slipped into each and every step that the army took. With each step energy flowed into them and they were invigorated. They were jubilant, excited, and energetic. Power and excitement buzzed across the host, sparking fires in their hearts and eyes. They had unknowingly tapped into a Primal Force! The Primal Force of Summer came to inhabit the Army of Summer.
The North knew no such excitement. Every sound was muffled by snow, and not even a hint of wind dared to blow. The entirety of Northern Verdance was frozen in every way. The world was still, completely and utterly. Nothing moved, breathed, or survived. Only within the Bastions of Skyzail was there quiet solemn movement. As the North descended deeper and deeper into frozen silence, an insidious power crept into the land. This did not go unnoticed by Skzail. She froze, but quite unlike those around her, it was not a quiet descent into the cold. No, Skzail was cold itself. This. This was different. The Primal Force of Winter was not like its counterpart. It was quiet. Silent. Every noise faded from existence and the sound of the creeping force was deafening. No other noise could penetrate its utter resolute silence, and thus its slow movement echoed across the land in a horrible creaking advance. Skzail remained frozen, for the first time, she began to fear.
The two forces met at first in small skirmishes. Scouts and small parties of Northern advanced guard clashed against Summer steel. These small skirmishes set the tone for the battles to come. The Northern beserkers were outnumbered and out maneuvered by the quick tastatha and their even quicker mounts. Yet these clashes were not without casualty. Skzails warriors defied death and fought long after one of normal constitution would fall. Her children too were particularly dangerous, reports of them ripping Tasatha riders in half spread across the host. Many would discount these rumors as glorious exaggerations, some would become fearful, others, emboldened. All of these responses were equally dangerous, for the rumors proved to be fact as the skirmishes increased in frequency. Long was the journey, but the Summer Army moved further North, coming to the border of where the Snowlands began. Calyvaro etched a large flaming circle into the ground and looked skyward before stepping into the permafrost.
Beat... Beat... Beat, resonated out from deep within the earth. The dragon Pybar had been working long and tirelessly at his project. His wyrmlings had mostly died off at this point. As time went on the scales of Phybar covered the annelids, and hardened into an immovable prison of the body. Yet this took years, and the wyrmlings laid eggs, which hatched into drakelings. Less and less the wryms became like worms. As the generations progressed, rapidly at first, eventually slowing, the race was left as great draconic apes. Standing two heads taller than the annelids, and much wider, these behemoths knew only Phybar. Yet, if one looked closely at their souls, there lay the distinct marks of their creator. While much was lost, it was clear these were still godborn. Eternally they worked in the smiths, leading gruff, but not unpleasant lives. They lived to work the earth, to dig away at the stone and discover the riches hidden within. The immense fires of the forges and smitheries were of no danger to them, in fact, they loved the heat. They lived constantly at a temperature that would kill most other mortals in a few instants. The very stone of their caverns glowed red hot and the air was thick with smoke and fire. Pybar had finished his mysterious project, but its nature was still unknown to you. The magics of the dragon and the sheer amount of magical titanium muddled the view to incomprehensible levels. Whatever the dragon is planning, its unknown to you, which is concerning enough as it is without considering the powers at play.
Another dragon began to make waves in the world during this era. Maringi seemed displeased about his new world and went on a rampage during this era. It began terrorizing the Islands of Moaky. No Odonto was safe from its volcanic wrath. Maringi's breath attacks were devastating to the crustacean creatures. The spray of liquid obsidian would stick to the mortals, cooking them as it hardened. It was an agonizing and terrible death, slow, and terrifying. A wave of fear and panic swept over the archipelago, no island was safe from their angry deity. Whats worse was the anger of Maringi was not limited to the dragon itself, but manifested across the entire domain. Volcanoes erupted erratically, monsoons and hurricanes hit the islands from seemingly nowhere, tidal waves would occasionally destroy the shoreline. Even the tides were against them, occasionally dropping far lower than natural, or completely submerging the island. It is a time of uncertainty and constant danger. Many Ordontos blame the Gods for angering Maringi. Others come to believe it is time to leave the islands. Yet there is a much greater cohesion to the tribes, the Ordontos begin to see themselves as one people, and as some are driven from their islands and others flee looking for safer waters, the tribes begin to interact and mix, little by little. The majority of this occured on the fourth and fifth islands where Ishagi masons had helped build study structures upon the island which were better able to handle the storms and the volcanic tremors. If this continues, their individual cultures will be destroyed at the end of the era. This could have unforseen effects on the people as a whole in the future. Life for them is uncertain, present and future. Interestingly enough, a new species of small blue furry lobsters appears, but while interesting, the Ordontos have little time to examine the strange new creatures.
Another island, far above the world, was growing. The celestial body the orbited this planet had a great deal and variety of life upon it. Yet as time passed even more life came to appear here. From far bellow, small groups of mortals of various races came to visit the object that had lit their skies for so long. Duros, Ishagi, and Annelids were given permission to visit the troon and a group of only a few dozen was permitted at this time. They turned and looked down, or up, it was hard to tell and very disorientating, at the planet they had come from. It was astounding for the Duros, to see the sweeping stretches of the land before them in such a perspective. The ishagi were less interested in the sights however, and seemed to take great interest in several of the landmarks. The city's composition they found fascinating, and the giant tree was certainly anomalous. While they had been changed so much and continued to develop by their own hands, it was hard to break free from their pursuit of knowledge and advancement. Many at one point or another found themselves at the City Library. The annelids seemed to have a lot of trouble with life here. None had ever seen such openness, or distance, or light. And it painful upon them. Their eyes could do nothing but spin, or perhaps that was the moon or even themselves, as the walls that had surrounded them disappeared and were replaced with a vastness which was both terrifying and hostile. Of course, even those who knew of this could not prepare themselves for openness of the moon. Oddly enough, three Ishagi go missing in the City. No one was able to discover what happened to them or where they went. The few dozen Duro refugees managed to make new lives for themselves here on the moon. They were a grisled and scared people at this point, having being the few survivors of their once large village. They set themselves apart from the other members of the group who came to visit. Unlike the members of Tauron's pantheon, they never intended to return. They lived in the same area as the boroi and the two groups grow a close bond and withdraw from society a bit. The followers of Tauron neither visit or are welcome in the Refugee District.
Yet others also appeared, as too did lands. Towering barren mountains with only the rare speck of starchy vegetation, from which a flowing river lead into a delta known as the riverlands. Of all the great calamities this world had faced, it was the encroaching silence that ends all worlds. All worlds fall silent one day, and yet the remnants of this world were rescued and allowed to live on in a world that was looking forward towards renewed vigor. The people there are confused, and lost. A new planet appeared overhead, and their gods were gone. Aliens and monsters of strange variety and manner surrounded them and outnumbered them. Truly the vri were frightened by this sudden change. As time goes on, perhaps they will come to adapt to this strange miniworld, but until then, this is a confusing and worrysome time.
Beat... Beat... Beat... went the heart of the leech monster. The Amuthhurr had hunted down the beast, and wrested it to the ground. In a terrifying display of its new monstrous powers it bent the flesh to its will and the chest of the leech creature burst open to reveal its beating heart. Blood spewed across Amuthurr who laughed as the strange squishy creature let out noises so guttural and unnatural that one would chilled to the bone if they heard them. Yet Amuthhurr was unaffected, his monstrous heart beating in tune with his prey. He reached into the creature, with his mantislike appendages holding it down, and took hold of its heart. He squeezed it and forced his power into it until it grew cold and stopped. The land seemed to watch Amuthhurr's creation and actions carefully. Eyes which once seemed aimless and agonized seemed now watchful, albeit still agonized. Amuthhurr never noticed, but one must wonder....
The angel Erin appears in this world, accepted by the gods, and instantly creates a system of magic that runs on the power of an individual's spirit. Raw spirit is generated by a race of small adorable little creatures. These little furry creatures float lightly across the landscape, often guarded by powerful creatures indubbed with the raw spirit that these little creatures generate. This enhances them and makes them more wolflike until they eventually transform. Mortals can tap into this power as well, though the system is not well defined or understood even by the gods. Erin later found a suitable mortal and courted them, but did not conceive a child from this encounter.
A magical fruitbasket was given to the nature spirit after it entered the world. It both confused and calmed the spirit somewhat. It was capable of speech and could be communicated with, though it began to rampage across the sky. A terrible hurricane which constantly twisted as the bird circled over Pangaea. While the majority of its power was limited to the upper atmosphere, a funnel cloud constantly turned over one particular section of Pangaea. Its not lost on the gods that a particular draconic workshop lays beneath. Despite, or perhaps as a result of, the constant storm which covered the area in gloom and gust, life had taken a hold here again and a vast grasslands had sprouted across the deadlands.
Three mortal ships arrive upon the edge of your universe. This is not wholly uncommon, while gods are capable of traversing the great plurality quite quickly, mortals are more delicate and must employ more mundane methods. Oddly enough however you can only view the outside of each ship, the contents of each remain a mystery. Each ship requires only two acts to be permitted into the world, and could contain an incredibly variety of things.
The first mortal ship is white and ovular. It has curing lines and a sleek design that reminds one of an elongated bubble floating deep underneath the ocean, lazily moving along with the current yet always and constantly upwards. The ship itself is quite large, capable of carrying a few hundred mortals, if it does in actually contain any mortals. It has not been opened in some time, perhaps a few hundred years or so, and thus, perhaps contains no mortals at all, but instead cargo or other such inventories.
The second ship was dark and archaic, carved from a dark blue stone and powered by an unknown magical force. It was clear that this ship brought with it no mortals, for it was not designed as a vessel, but a body. Vergarth the Traveler had arrived upon your borders. Its large singular gemlike eye floating in front of one of its six sides. The living obelisk was both massive and ancient, having seen a great many worlds. Yet it was forever silent, its wisdom demonstrated, but never shared. Neither malevolent nor benevolent the being was simply an observer, yet also in some ways a guardian. It knew much, saw more, and acted less. Its guidance was quiet and sturdy.
Lastly was the corpse of a mighty beast! A cold and frozen husk of a spacefaring creature. It has been killed, gutted, and filled with something... Whatever operates this ship is certainly alive, and possibly a mastermind. For the ship is as good as one could hope to have from flying a corpse through the vastness of space. Yet beyond the fact that the giant beast is dead, and somehow a spaceship, there is little else one can discover about the ship.
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Topic: Gods of Creation III (IC) (Read 30494 times)