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Thread: Good Gods!!

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    Default Good Gods!!

    http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=83733

    A Universal cycle had begun to turn. Some unforeseen force had created the first breaths of life in a formless universe that would be unable to sustain lesser breaths. So the gods had begun to rapidly spring to life without warning. The Unforseen had made a large rock, with a burning fire in the center. The dry, lifeless husk had begun.

    The other gods were given a voice, speaking to them, and telling them what they were. The Unforseen had told them that they were powerful, First Ones. They were to be, in time, revered as gods. It was up to them to do what they desired to do in order to sustain the world.

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    Two small twinkles of silver flash through the darkness as a sheet of churning white shapes itself into the vague cut of a man. He stands on the husk of a rock and gestures to the flashes of silver that marked his passage into being, and they burn like fire, glitter like ice. Two great moons spin into being and set themselves to a careful tune: when one is full, the other is new.

    The man smiles from beneath a helm of bone and spun gold, now a more and more distinct form, defined by the very act of creation. Droplets of evening dew spin in the air and nest on newly imagined plants, all of them illusion crafted from the potential stories that would soon fill the world. The Marquis motions again and a forest of silver trees emerged from the rock, carpeted by lush white grass. The boughs of the old trees catch the starlight for leaves and anyone within is always under a clear night sky. Deep in the heart of this half-dreamt forest, the Marquis fashion a seat from a great birch tree and sits, wondering what comes next in the story.

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    Barghul

    When the world was made at first there was nothing then, slowly, rhythmically, a beating sound began; the sound started out as nothing but a light beating, like the beating of a heart, then slowly it got louder, more intense, more SAVAGE, until it was a mighty pounding that shook the newly made world. Then, with a final mighty noise like a thunderclap magnified by a hundred split the air, and a massive white creature, bestial and animalistic, an odd sort of creature like a cross between a gorilla and a baboon with stark white fur. He screamed his fury to the heavens, though what had angered him he could not say, he screamed and screamed and the world shook, until finally he smashed his hands into the ground, splitting it into a massive chasm. Now eerily calm, the massive house sized ape spoke I am born. I am the heart of the world, and with me the world lives
    Caesar Asmodeus by Andraste

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    In a burst of flame Ravax appears looking at himself in his true form. thirlled with this new idea of creation and what havoc he could wreak with it he brought about the existance of darkness and fear that which govern sall things. with just this simple act he had become more real ,more powerful more alive than he ever had before. Just by creating something he had gained more power he realized something about this it made him so giddy just doing thi8s sent chills up his spine. He liked this power alot.
    Last edited by Fan; 2008-06-24 at 03:40 PM.

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    The Marquis

    Shaken from his silver throne by the throes of the savage god's birth, the Marquis lowers the stag's skull across his brow and takes the form of a silver beast. Lines of living copper stripe the strange god's fur as he runs toward the sound of the new divinity.

    Upon arriving, he tilts his head to the side and smiles as much as any creature without lips can.

    "Are you the hunter? I have been waiting for the next player to arrive."

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    Xorin

    In the Dream, something Old awoke. And it heard the voice, and it *Knew* itself.

    From the mountain where it slept, the dream unfurled itself, a gorgeous melange of color, light, sound - shifting yet stable, chaotic yet order, paradox given form, mystery and magic given life. There was potential here, the infinite threads of potentiality ever shifting, ever stretching outwards.

    But this was not all there was.

    A winged form unfurled itself from the top of the mountain, bellowing like thunder as it slipped through the layers of reality from the Dream into the World that was Yet to Be. The eyes of the dragon were light, its scaled a myriad riot of color. It alighted on another mountaintop, watching the birth-throes of the world, and looking up at the new-scattered stars. Into this mountain, a mirror of the one within the Dream, he carved a cave, so high that the clouds unfurled far below like a carpet of snow. In that cave, there was a pool of water that glowed with an inner light. Into the water he stared, and watched as the bones and flesh of the world took shape. And as he watched, he worked, and became aware of others working as well - working to form the fundaments of all that was to be in this world. And his work was thus: He dreamed of creatures, and they appeared before him, as yet tiny, still, and without life - the world was not yet prepared for them, unwrought as it was. Some, the strongest of his children, would be the Firstborn.

    The others must know this. And so he moved once again, appearing with a clap of thunder and a flash of riotous color in the glade Where the others were.

    I Am Xorin. I am the First and the Father of the Scaled Children, and the Dragons, who are my firstborn, will be strong upon this world. Thus have I wrought. Thus shall it be.
    Last edited by WhiteKnight777; 2008-06-24 at 04:17 PM.

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    Ravax smiled. The new being was very interesting indeed he had'nt been told there were others like him.
    No I'am merely a being new to this dark lifless oblivon and am just thrilled with this new power

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    Barghul

    The newborn god of the innate primal heart that beats in all things looked up at the stag. They were similar in coloration, and they both wore the form of beasts, but where this was Barghuls true visage, the face of what he was, he sensed it was not so with this other. Barghul spoke, in a brutal but intelligent tone, which implied both great intelligence, and great cunning behind his apish features. I am a hunter yes, but I know not the hunter of which you speak. I embody the instinctual lust for the hunt, just as I too embody the need defend myself or flee should need be. What is it to you?
    Caesar Asmodeus by Andraste

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    The Marquis

    The White Stag Prince jumps and lands beside the god of savagery, casting off the deer's shape like a cloak--literally, in that the shape flutters down to the ground and becomes a silvered stag, no longer a disguise but now a myth given form. At its first glance of Barghul, it runs: fast like the win, fleeting like summer.

    "I suppose it's nothing to me, save that it's a part of the story, isn't it?" he asks, bending inhumanly in the still night like a wind-shattered reed. "And such a clever thing you are," he says, circling the beast, "I'm sure you'll be the source of many glorious tales."

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    Barghul

    Barghul becomes anxious, as the storyteller circles him as a predator might. Large sharp teeth and powerful claws made themselves known, but not obviously so. He walks over to the chasm, and holds up a white object like a Shakespearean actor quoting Hamlet, but instead of a human skull, it was a bleached white stags skull. If anyone were to look the white stag looked back from where it had bounded. Upon further inspection the skull appeared to have three eyes, though what the implication was not even the god holding the skull knew, as it had been there when he had arrived. Cleverness is as much cunning as intellect, and I have much cunning, and much intellect as well.
    Caesar Asmodeus by Andraste

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    Xorin

    The Dragon god watched impassively as the others - like him, yet not - spoke and circled and talked. He watched, his eyes glowing with inner light, his vast pinions spread. Then he beat his wings a single time, and with the wind that sprang forth from them, his Firstborn were scattered to the four corners of the world, each coming to rest in a place that was right for it - some were born young, others came to be as elder wyrms, though there were few of these. And he raised his head and bellowed a for the second time upon this world, and his children awoke in the places whence they had been places, and came to *Know* themselves. And from his mouth there issued a great gout of light, riot of light and color that filled the glade with dancing light. His vast head looked downward at the others, and he spoke again.

    My children, too, will the stuff of legends and stories - sometime the villians and sometimes the heroes, but they will be writ large in the world and in the mind of those who inhabit it. Cruel or kind, creating or destroying, they will leave their mark.

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    Life! That was the feeling Cale first felt, and the feeling he decided he would forever love. Through this feeling, this love of life, he decided he would share it. But how? Then the voices told him. He was a god! He could share life with others. He looked towards a gigantic rock, filled with fire in the center. “There,” said Cale, deciding that he would share his love of life by creating creatures. Heading toward the new world, and breathed air into the world so that others could live, knowing that others were not like him, and required something to draw breath from. And from this air he made art, which he called clouds. And thus he fashioned himself clothing from these clouds, forming long billowy pants.

    And as he looked down upon the world, he saw others like him, gods in their own right. And as he saw gods, he knew that others would be like, wishing to share life, and others who wished to take it away. And knowing they would each have their domains, as one of them announced of his scaled children, and through powers of his own, he roared through out the world,

    “And I shall rule the weather, wind, the sun, the sky, and all who occupy the sky!”

    After making his announcement, he came down, and found a two gods, one who had a skull with gold webs on it, and a gigantic creature talking.

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    Y'vein

    This would not do.

    Advancing, surmising the shapeless world with flashing eyes, floating hair, and a neatly-tailored top hat, Y'vein shook his head. There was so much to do, and, well, it seemed that the overarching absence of ... well, anything, was simply unacceptable.

    Ah, but he would do something about this. Drawing a suspiciously sharp set of callipers from a neat pocket, he, while pressing forwards with a brisk gait into the unmade, unconstructed world, mentally began synthesising the named from the primordial chaos, in some act of linguistic genesis.


    A sacred river, that five miles meandering with a mazy motion ran?

    Check.

    Caverns measureless to man?

    Check.

    A lifeless ocean?

    Check.

    Well. It was something to be getting on with.
    Last edited by Illiterate Scribe; 2008-06-24 at 04:22 PM.

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    Ravax noticed that the others were creating life so easily
    so he made his own race of punishers.

    BEHOLD FOR I HAVE CREATED THE PUNISHERS OF MORTALS THE ONES WHO SHALL JUDGE THOSE OF THE MORTAL REALM FOR ALL EVENTAULLY COMES TO ME

    and with a shout he created the realm of Damnation as for this realm he made fire and from the fire he made the punishers it's denizens to assist him in ruling the place of judgement.
    Last edited by Fan; 2008-06-24 at 04:39 PM.

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    Exclamation Re: Good Gods!!

    Xorin

    Xorin looked towards Ravax coolly, already taking exception to what he saw as the other's hubris.

    Not all. My children belong to me, and when there time upon this world is done, they will follow me into my realm, the Dreaming realm, whence mortals only venture in the deepest throws of sleep.
    Last edited by WhiteKnight777; 2008-06-24 at 04:31 PM.

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    The Marquis

    "It is a shame,"
    the Marquis said in a soft voice as he tipped the skull from his head and motioned as if gathering the folds of a cloak. In an instant that should have revealed his face, his form instead jostled inward and reshaped, now a tall and angular man carved from copper and jade.

    "It is a shame that this world should be so full of gods so very loud and boastful. Already, claims and brags and...it is sad, really."


    The White Stag Prince withdraws into his forest of silver with a disappointed manner and settles in his throne, setting a circle of purple stones before him and kindling in them a bright blue flame. He plucks a silver pine needle from the tallest tree and threads the flame through its eye with skill, and then he spins: he tells a story about telling stories of stories, endless weaving, internal words and external hearts.

    He cuts the cloth on his sharp fingernails and sets the first of his creatures to bask in the moonlight: it fills them and shapes them and turns them from flamespun-silk into strange and mercurial creatures, tall like the trees of his ghostly woods. Their arms and legs stretch like great trunks, while their torsos and heads remain largely mortal in proportion. Four such beings awaken: one male and three females, and in the moment of their birth the Marquis offers them a simple promise:

    "By my oath, this forest is your home now, your charge, and so long as you stand within its bounds, you may never be harmed or vexed."
    Last edited by GryffonDurime; 2008-06-24 at 04:43 PM.

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    Smiling at what the dragon thought would happen. does he not know that it is I that rules over death? they must first come to me to recieve judgement for even this beasts children sin and must be punished.
    Last edited by Fan; 2008-06-24 at 04:49 PM.

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    Xorin

    Xorin looked at the Marquis, quirking the ridge of scales above one massive eye. I hope you are not including me in that number. I do not boast... it is simply that I have seen what my children are to be, and I speak the truth plainly. They will capture the imagination by their very presence, and so they will dwell not only in the world, but in the minds of others, living creatures and symbols both. And as for loudness...

    He shrugged, and his form shrank down and shifted like quicksilver, until he stood, a tall human-looking creature in a robe of scintillating colors, with violet eyes and silver hair. Perhaps this is a form more suited to conversation.

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    Barghul

    Barghul turns from sound of the boasting gods with a primitively derisive snort, and heads toward the mysterious forest of the Stag Prince. Despite his massive form his footsteps are as silent as the most cunning of felines, his movements as fluid and graceful as could be, and yet everything about him spoke of raw power. Off in the distance he spied the white stag watching him through the forest. The words of the stag prince about the hunter rang in his mind, and he looked around. He finally laid his eyes upon his own shadow, it seemed to almost strain at his real form, wishing to chase after the silver deer. An idea came to him, and he picked up his shadow and molded it, so that it no longer resembled his shape. He reformed it so that it resembled a mix of the woodlands most graceful predators, the wolf, the fox, the cougar, and the coyote. This sinewy beast with black matted fur truly was as a shadow, silent and smooth in motions. Its form tensed, and then it sprang at the stag, and the stag leaped away the last minute. Barghul watched the shadow creature and the white stag continue like this off into the distance, and he wondered if the shadow would ever catch the sleek white deer, or if it would go on forever.
    Caesar Asmodeus by Andraste

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    Chuckling at the beast and the stag from atop his newly created obsidan throne.
    This will be to easy (whispering to himself)
    and with this thought of gods fighting Ravax had an idea he decied to make anger, addiction and corruption the forces that can rule a man or beasts life. The first ones he appiled this newly created force to where that dragon beasts children the one that mocked his power. Oh yes he will pay.
    Last edited by Fan; 2008-06-24 at 05:06 PM.

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    Perloo wakes up to find the world flourishing with life realizing his time is limited he start to form giant trees of 300 ft +. With those trees he starts form forests ,many forests that he will fill in with life. With leftover parts from the trees he builds a 25ft tree and forms a nose and eyes and a mouth and with that he has one of many creatures that he constucted for the giant forests he has. Taking some of his trees he molds them into a throne for him so he can the world go by.
    Last edited by drum-n-bass; 2008-06-24 at 05:06 PM.

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    In one of Norall's vast deserts, (yes I named the damn planet), a heavy wind begins to stir the sand. At first, it reveals a mass of bone. Slowly, this mass becomes wrapped in flesh, followed by another layer of steel and feathers. White flames lick the surrounding sand turning it to a pure glass. The being spreads it's wings to reveal the textbook image of a warrior. His armor satined with blood, a long, red, blade clasped in his right hand and a scar going the length of his face. With a loud yawn, he speads his wings suddenly causing his fire to burst forth, creating an extremely wide, glass-lined crater.
    The Swallowfield Children - Stredexon Intwisca

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    Ravax felt the awakening. It was close very close he felt and sense of dread as if a great enemy has jsut been born.
    I need to handle this quickly
    assuming the guise of the black armoured man he went to confront the new entity

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    The Marquis

    As the four newly-made wardens wander the silver forest, the White Stag Prince sits and wonders and watches: their presence and the stag's and the beast's will change this place. Before his very eyes, the softly undulating white grass spun into soft, animal shapes: rabbits and birds, spiders and snakes. All of them were animal shapes worn over the stuff of stories: spiders who spun illusions instead of webs and snakes with promises for venom, unbreakable and infectious. Fey beasts, one and all.

    And most curious of all were the faerie creatures who wore mortal shapes: six-armed and immesurably thin. Every so often one would appear in the footprints of a warden, fully formed and clothed in gossamer. They called themselves the Vaiyu, children of the promise, and to them the Marquis offered the way of illusion and enchantment.

    Satisfied by the bustling ecosystem of his tiny world, the Marquis emerged from the forest and sought out the lord of dragons in person and in secret.

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    Ravax felt the creation swirl around him. all this raw unused power just wating he thought. as he went to his destinantion and he warped this creation and made hate and appilied to every non divine being in this new universe.He created this because that is the only way he could express his feeling sort of leaving an inferno of death in his wake.
    Ravax was in short Pissed
    Last edited by Fan; 2008-06-24 at 05:53 PM.

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    Barghul

    Barghul wandered the silvering forest, wondering about its true nature. Even now his shadow had reformed, like the one he had created but this one was different, unique in the way only twins could be. Barghul respected this place for what it was, but he realized he needed a place of his own to call home, and to create his own creatures. He left the silver forest and its subtle shifting illusions behind, and he walked until he found a land that rivaled his own mighty stature. Trees, real living trees, that scraped the heavens and seemed to cry out, challenging him to climb them. And climb them he did, as only an ape truly he can he leaped from tree to tree, reveling in the freedom and adrenaline than sang to his heart and blood. This place pleased him.

    He recalled once more the Stag Prince, a creature so like him and yet so different, and knew what he must do. He once more took his shadow from his form and placed it in the forest, he told it to find him a glade, fit for civilization, and to await his return. Confident the proud beast would accomplish its goal, and knowing he could find it whenever he wished, he returned to the silvering forest. He took one of the many silver trees, and he reshaped it like clay in massive fists, until it was a tall slender figure quite at seemingly quite at odds with his nature, but with a heart full of passion and pride as he was. He then created more, until there was a small society in an open glade. They were tall, angular, and very pale of skin, with flowing silver hair. They were the elves, the first of their kind. Confident they could take care of themselves, being as they were formed from this very place he took his leave for the moment.

    Barghul returned to the massive woods, and he tracked his shadow to a small clearing, if such a word truly fit in such a massive place. He took a fledgling tree, and from it he made creatures, similar to those earlier but different. These elves were shorter and stronger, though still tall and wiry, and instead of passion and pride he gifted these elves with feral cunning and instinct, so that they would be as the beasts of the forest but apart. Leaving his shadow to watch over these newly born elves, he returned to the silver forest to find his first creations.
    Caesar Asmodeus by Andraste

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    Seeing Ravax pissed made Perloo laugh. Sitting on his throne he decided to make something that was funny. Taking a rabbit he took horns of an elk and put them on it making it be able to speak he let go of his creature letting fall down to the earth where its horns got stuck in the ground. When it pulled itself out it started hoping around in its forest home.

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    Ravax smiled at the new one laugh at me will that's what they all do laugh he thought to him self and he infected this new creature the god had made. Making it bestial full of hatred and a beast of crulety and pain with huge fangs and removing all elements of it's former self.
    Who's laughing now?

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    Xorin

    Xorin watched the creation taking place all around him, and nodded slowly as another thought came to him. Reaching down, he picked up a handful of mud and shaped into a short, reptilian shape. With a flick of the wrist, he multiplied it many times, then sent it into the depths with a snap of his fingers. His voice was quieter now, but still strong.

    But there must be balance. As my firstborn children are majestic, powerful and proud, so shall these creatures be small, weak, and despised by others for their petty viciousness, and into them I pour the hate that has been released into the world and inflicted upon my first-born children, grounding it within these lesser creatures. But they shall be many, and they shall fear and worship the firstborn whenever the two shall meet. But still they will plague the world where they are not controlled... but perhaps other races will find different uses for them. They shall be the Kobolds, the teeming hordes in the darkness beneath the earth.
    Last edited by WhiteKnight777; 2008-06-24 at 06:08 PM.

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    Having marked out the riverbed - a simple affair, almost unworthy of the self-styled 'finest of the gods', Y'vein was bored. Well, not bored, as such - a gentleman is never bored - but a certain sense of ennui pervaded his temperament. He strolled up and down the banks, mumbling half-formed verses of poetry -

    It was a miracle of rare device,

    A
    something something ... with caves of ice ...


    And it struck him. He delved down into those caves - of course, by experiencing them, he closed off their measurelessness, encapsulated, sealed it within the limits of civilisation that none knew better than he - and went, tapping his stick, down the cool, featureless passages.

    En route to his destination, he stopped, composing a short sonnet-sending to the Marquis, upon an issue of vital theological debate - the head of his cane striking a staccato rhythm on the stone as he did so, to mark his meter:

    When of words the author's pen is spent
    And from the sapling trees cut the wood's tender side
    Is the avenging of its death to hide
    Or to make revelation of the truth unbent?
    To from atomic blocks of words present
    The meaning that does occlusion chide,
    Or should the story-teller be denied
    Of simple structure, rather lies be sent?

    And so, through meaning's medium I relate
    Begging this question, that rectitude might prevail
    Should it from our oracles be heard
    The messages from those that did create
    Is that words make the tale?
    Or 'tis th'intent that shapes the word?

    Pleased with this minor expression of the mind, of this honing of words, he carried, on, tap-tapping his way down the tunnels, to their heart.

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