Long ago, the gods fell silent.So the story goes. There was a time of gods and prophets, of miracles else unseen. They are undeniable: the creatures of the world are clearly unrelated, the nature of the stone that the Skytree's roots nest in is different, more varied than the magic-made stone of the rest of the moon, the crystal city itself still continues to shape itself to the needs of its citizens. It is not even accurate to say that the time of the prophets has ended, as Xikla and the Gemini are still not only alive, but quite active in politics. Although more children are born every day too young to recall the time where the divine watched the world closely, it remains very distinctly in living memory.
But that time ended.
Not only did that time end, but the nature of time itself
shifted. No more did the days and years come in fits and starts, slowing and accelerating as the eyes of the divine shifted their sights. No, all at once, like a rubber band
snapping, it seemed to... unwind. Second followed second, hour followed hour, week followed week. It was
unnatural. Convenient, but unnatural nonetheless.
But, seeing deeper than the masses, the many gods' prophets noticed something more. A connection, one that had always been there in the back of their soul, suddenly... disappeared. None of them knew what it meant, though some had their concerns. It would not be for years until it was noticed that the gods had ceased to Act.
Different places had different responses, all various degrees of panic. On the moon, however, it was the quiet sort of panic, of a disaster that is disconcerting and which you are rather certain will affect your life
somehow, but it hasn't yet, and you're not quite sure
how it'll do so. The Vri, refugees of Calamity, profess a familiarity with the state of affairs; after all, their own world, piecemeal as it was, had itself been taken from such a state by Lu. It was not
unlivable, but it was not what they were used to, nor what they desired.
And so, amid a populations desperately in need of a pillar of stability, the crystal city could only do what it had always done: reshape itself to fill its peoples' needs. And so, at the center of the city, four crystal statues rose. Acter Nobody, Julius, Rexilium, and Aedanusuirillystiphosidarap (still commonly referred to by most mortal as the much simpler Aedanus). Statues of memory, statues of memorial, statues of a desperate hope that they might return.
Three days ago, time shifted once again.
Three days ago, the statue of Acter stepped off its pedestal, and strode into the forest.
Three days ago, the lunar prophets convened. But only a thread of the old connection had been restored.
Acter has returned. What he is doing, none know; the silence has yet to be broken. Most assume that it must be important; some whisper that he has made foolhardy decisions before. But all wait with bated breath for the reappearance of the Aegis.
Druidry happened as part of the animation, and it was just a non-obvious part of the blessing. The mask and shovel were made by divine fiat while the Aegis avatar was out in the jungle. The coat was made using druidry and the local materials. None of this was important to the story itself.
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Topic: Remnant of Hope: God Game (Read 1966 times)