There was a time, long ago, that there was only one world, one Goddess, one universe. This Goddess was an overgoddess, like me. She was ancient and wise, brute and gentle. Nativa paused there, slowly looking at every one of them.
She was the one to create the first real Gods from the essence. She was the one to lead them to wisdom and balance. They were often jealous, angry, violent and hungry. They were often loving, giving, peaceful and fulfilled. All of them, no matter what spheres of the mortal world they represented, were two-sided.
The mortals, seeming so inferior to them, were exactly the same. They were irresponsible at times, thoughtful at others.
Nativa jumped from her chair, landing on top of the stone table, walking round it, pausing in front of every one of the assembled Gods, examining them closely.
Those Gods were bound to their spheres, but they were, like you, flexible. They were changed by both mortals, and by themselves to a greater extent. Their spheres and alignment were not solid, but fluid. Those Gods too, were mortal in mind, changing and adapting throughout their lives.
You too resemble mortals, but with a responsibility and power far beyond them. I will not be biased against you, for you are what you are, but remember that every decision you make is yours, every instinct you follow is by your own choice or lack of strength. You are fluid, you are growing.
Nativa sighed softly, lowering her face as she sat on the side of the table, in front of Lord Hunger.
Several gods, though, decided that they wanted more. Sharing was not a thing they wanted to do, not even the mortal realm. Instead of war brought upon the many continents by the mortals themselves, those Gods chose to annihilate their rivals through bloodshed of mortals, of innocent. Their war, their conflict, took a firm hold over the Old World. Eventually, the Pantheon collapsed. Two new were erected; The House of Old, led by the Mother of All, and the House of Daggers, led by a younger God full of fury. The two Pantheons fought one another for an amount of time that was greater than any mortal life ever was. Many were sent to the afterlife too early, many suffered.
Nativa shivered as her voice took form as a soft, sad singing. Eventually she stopped, focused on her story again after having moved, almost danced, gracefully to the throne.
The birth of a God is never predicted, a fact that can't be contradicted.
The conflict made them blind of The Traitor. Like a snake, silent, shifting shapes, he set them up against one another. Both Pantheons collapsed into feuding and violence. In the confusion, he scavenged, he grew, and eventually he claimed to be stronger than the Goddess that gave birth to them all.
They defeated him, but not without a price. The ancient world, with all of its ancient Gods, was destroyed. The essence was ripped and shaken. The Shapeshifter was banished to another universe, bound to it. Instead of one universe, multiple now co-existed, inaccessible to one another. The Gods of Old were divided throughout part of those universes, they were split, stripped of their powers to start anew, to start like the Old Mother once did.
That is the story I wanted to tell you, that was what I wanted to share. Nativa got out of her chair, sitting at the bench next to it, close to Kastheen.
I want to hear you talk, any of you, about your achievements. I want stories, plans.
I need to know my children, please, I plead to you, take my chair.
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Topic: Godhood III Play Thread (Read 38751 times)