Lords of Creation in the Playground (IC2)

[Rainshine]

Mianmi

It was almost finished. It was a moment of thought and a word, and they simply were. In the north lands -- the Frozen North, Stoxia -- there sprouted giant stands of trees, sudden and harsh in mostly barren lands. These were not jungle tyrants or the cathedrals of ancient forests. The trees that grew into existence were crooked and tenacious trees, rugged plants that could survive the harsh climate that they were surrounded in. Trunks that would turn away blade, limbs that would snag passers by.
This was not a forest for the fey of the warmer, greener climes. No plains for the centaur to run, no warm glades for the satyr, no canopy nests for the celue. To this land were given new creatures to roam.
Perhaps the strangest of the creatures for these small forests were the wisps. Not wholly of the material plane, they appeared as clouds of faint light, gliding along in the air. Where they went, the faint sound of chimes could be heard. Even such an innocent and harmless looking creature, however, was not without its defenses or dangers; those chimes and that glow could reach out to any who would harm or the life of the groves, twisting their senses and their minds against themselves.
Brought also into the midst of those woods was two-legged creature, as gnarled and knobby as the trees that were there. Thick and messy hair hung about his body, streaming off the back of his head, down from his beard, resembling nothing so much as a thicker version of a moss that grew on some trees. Shorter than most fey, the hair twitches and writhes as the creature walks, lashing out at any strangers who come by.
A four-legged creature bounded from the forest, small and lithe, with a vulpine-like face. But no wild creature possessed that keen intelligence that sparkled behind those eyes, or that shimmering, color-changing fur. Those stands of trees would be their home, to have and defend.



Time boiled quickly, like a pot of water left on the fire overly long. To the mind of Zzizchin, Mianmi gifted a further understanding of the genes of life. Gradually, the principles she already knew -- bioengineering -- could be further applied, to the point of direct manipulation of the essence of life. It was left to here to explore the rest. Her people were wise with their years; they would do well for themselves before the end.


Deirdre

She had been apprentice with her uncle for almost two years now, travelling the world. He was a potter by trade, her aunt taking care of most of the business. Then there had been that stay three -- or was it four -- stops ago. The life of a caravaner’s daughter brought many new sights, but that had been the first time Deirdre had seen one of those ‘acrobats’. It had been a human woman, dressed in tight-fitting colorful clothes -- much better taste than most humans. To watch her move about was to witness a dance, woven to a beat the crowd could often not hear, but see instead. The woman was a freelance performer, and in a way, she reminded Deirdre of her brother. Deirdre had never shared her brother’s great love or memory for stories and song, She did not particularly feel passionate about the clay and the wheel either, but it was better than tedium of business and trading. She had no head for that. In fact, Deirdre had a bit of a temper. It was not hers to sit and dicker for hours over the value of a painting. She wanted action, motion. Perhaps that was why the acrobat spoke to her so much. And, of course, her brother, who she missed greatly. They could exchange letters; his usually found her faster than the other way around, for the track he follow was chaotic at best, but in the end, they were words on a page, not her hand in his.
All these thought ran through her mind, as a sort of salve against the boredom. They were seated with several other families in an inn, perhaps a day or two out from the city of Mytea. As an apprentice, her place was with the master, listening and learning. Right now, though, it was catching up on news. Talk about trade prices, about the newest innovations in glazing and weaving, and a dozen different things. She listened with half an ear, anxious to get moving again.

But then the conversation shifted, and suddenly she was completely engaged. “There’s been half a dozen lost caravans out that way, and travellers reported missing as well. Too far out for Mytea to be at all interested. And you know how the wastes can get. Bottom breathing scum from up there.” The other man pointed and rolled his eyes upwards, making a gesture with his hands. “The boys got together, fetched up a scrying on it though. Wreckage. Don’t think it’s any prosperity raiders this time.” He snarled and shook his head. “Would be a sight if some of those centaur would hire along as guards, but they’re not much for leaving their folk. Be a mighty fine sight.”
Her uncle nodded to the man. “Saw a logging corp get a little too greedy a year back. Strayed into the periphery of their domain; we were staying in a grove with some satyr. That was one group that wouldn’t be intruding again. Could be, we could hire some of that sort of expertise. The Sovereignity, maybe.” Deirdre had been there before. Those were hard men and women, and not of the people. It seemed the same thought had occurred to the men.
“Aye, but their ways are not our ways. Might work for a spell or two, but…” He shrugged, and the talk began to turn to happier things. Deirdre’s mind, though, followed the thought through to completion. She remembered one of the stories her mother had told, about a time when Deirdre was much younger, and their people had been under attack. And how her brother personally saved her. All of it began to spin together, and crystallize out into a plan...

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AP 9 + 10 (Rollover) - 0 (Jewel charge: Mold Land) - 2 (Create Populace: Wisps, Korren, Lagofe) - 0 (Libram charge: Genetic Engineering)