After a great deal of contemplation, you deduce that the whistling winds of the fifth realm are more worthy of your attention than the incessant beeping of the seventh. Though it fiercely demands your curiosity it can wait, for you cannot rest so long as you have a multitude of unenlightened minds to reach and curious souls to teach! Slicing a perfect rift between realms, you step through and marvel at the sight. Above lies an endless sea of stars arranged in a breathtaking mosaic, and beneath them is an impossibly vast ocean of wild and unruly scrub grass stretching from horizon to horizon, gently swaying in the breeze.
Curious to determine what sort of mortals inhabit this place and where they could be found, you enter a meditative trance and cast your consciousness across an enormous expanse of space. Moments pass, before you pause and clack your beak. The inhabitants of this place are somewhat strange, in that the upper half of their physique resembles an Osterat that hasn't been reduced to an atrophied state, but their lower body resembles that of a mountain goat of all things. Each of these mortals, the Capra of Sibilum as they call themselves and their plane, are immersed in a primitive semi-nomadic pastoral lifestyle tending to sheep. Or they were, for some dozen generations ago an ambitious chieftain's son arose in a larger than average tribe, declared himself master of all he surveyed, and set out to conquer his more pacifistic kin. Predictably, his adoption of mounted sling-wielding led to significant success and soon after, he gathered a majority of their race beneath his banner. Much more surprisingly, upon success he adopted the trappings of civilization and proceeded to force his newfound subjects into settled living at the point of a flint spear.
Three generations later, they'd discovered crude copper-smithing, the rudiments of masonry, and the fundamentals of agriculture, and slowly but surely, the handful of thatch-roofed hamlets he built became humble cities of antiquity. Six generations, this petty empire mandated the worship of their 'Eternal Conqueror' causing a schism between those who refused to submit to what they deemed the false prosperity of the tyrant who slaughtered their forefathers, and those who refused to regress to what they felt was a state of mindless savagery. The empire narrowly succeeded in ousting these would-be nomads but the decade-long conflict served to vindicate the survivors in the eyes of the wanderers who remained and the malcontents unwilling to remain beneath the 'unseen yoke.' This caused a resurgence of tribalism and they began the descent into militarism, becoming no less aggressive than the civilization-founder's hordes once were. Meanwhile, the empire almost collapsed from a dispute over the traditional policy of lethal duels to determine successors as opposed to appointing those closest related to the legendary figure by blood. The latter won by a decent margin, but it caused damage to the empire that it was never able to recover from, shattering its seemingly unstoppable legacy and confirming the rumors that civilized living made one no less soft, weak, and domesticated than the sheep themselves.
When three more generations came to pass the empire's bureaucracy began to get out of hand, bringing in all the inefficiency and corruption that one would come to expect, a distraction from the ever-increasing skirmishes that could not be tolerated. Persisting through inertia alone, the empire has lost no less than forty percent of its territory and most regions that remain loyal to the emperor are run by overambitious, shortsighted, and miserly mortals who gained their position through blood alone rather than the merit their ancestor would've demanded. Of course, in the distant steppe another chieftain's son with a knack for oratory and violence is gathering the tribes into a warhost that would almost certainly cause the empire to collapse in its weakened state. Meanwhile, a hot-tempered and inexperienced youth barely in the first seasons of adulthood sits on the throne, and worse, he's an idealist that can't stop coming to blows with the nobility he's supposed to control. A second conflict more grievous than either of the previous two is inevitable, within a decade or less, and examining the situation from a detached bystander's view, you can't bring yourself to decide who you want to support.
Gathering the memories of those who've considered the coming destruction, you find that while the emperor tirelessly seeks to improve on the fine arts and surpass the knowledge of the past, for all his skill at delegating and uncovering the true intentions of others, he lacks the mental acuity to personally further his goal. In opposition, while the rising warlord of the nomads actively seeks to destroy the civilization that's been built, he has an intensely analytical mind that has already made tremendous strides in both weapon-smithing and grand strategy, and shows no signs of stopping. You deduce that subtly causing the death of either would only result in their replacement by another, far less foresighted or talented and possibly much more cruel member of their faction. It's unknown how much baring this is going to have on the approaching combat itself, but the empire claims to have the blessing of the Eternal Conqueror and that his wrath is soon to be on their foes, whereas the nomads claim that they have the guidance of their ancient ancestors, who allegedly spit upon the honor-less stone pilers. If nothing else, your curiosity has been preoccupied for the foreseeable future.
Mulling over your feelings surrounding the circumstances, where do you want to go?A) Into the center of the empire's capital, to examine this emperor in person and decide on what to do.B) Into the center of the largest war-camps, to examine this warlord in person and decide on what to do.C) Into the center of a minor village in the empire, to subtly spread the wonders of your faith there.D) Into the center of an insignificant war-camp, to subtly spread the wonders of your faith there instead.E) Somewhere else entirely. [Specify]Mantles: Discovery
Epithets: N/A
Servitors: N/A
Champions: Urul, an Osterat prophet of supernatural cunning
Followers: 3 Units of Osterat
Your Godly Realm: A quiet place, ideal for contemplation and currently holding a handful of mortals who worshiped Eroth in life.
Osterat: Once home to an illustrious civilization, it has been destroyed by a god-sent cataclysm of an inconceivable scale.
Sibilum: An expanse of seemingly endless steppe-land, teetering on the brink of a catastrophic if primitive war.
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Topic: You are a Nascent Minor Deity (SG) (Read 8684 times)