Godhood XIV - Usurper [Honey Edition Turn 3]

However Bacardi could see what is effectively hidden by his waist-tied labcoat was as mysterious as whatever so many arms could be for. He chortled. "Your mind's eye, Bacardi, in indeed Clear! Alas, I believe your access to our divine posteriors has reached its daily limit." He leaned in close to the mechanical cocktailbanner wyvern phoenix god to whisper with a proper dose of overdramatic. "Wouldn't want to alienate the ladies, would we? My heart could not take it, no. But imagine if you were to make a whole world of 'sexy booties'! 'Sexy booties', up in the sky, in the oceans, on the land." He waved a hand in an arc at the presently nonexistent cosmos, gesturing to a view he hoped to instill in the Science god's imagination. Perhaps he would be moved to advance their project.

"YES I CAN IMAGINE IT. A CALLIPYGIAN PARADISE IN WHICH EVERYONE HAS An EUDAIMONIC RIGHT TO THE PRIME GLUTEUS MAXIMUS. THEIR CURVATURE PERFECT LIKE THE METAPHORICAL CIRCLE CREATED IN THE SPIRIT OF ARISTOTLE'S GOLDEN MEAN. THEIR HUE LIKE THE BRIGHTEST OF TWO MOONS IN TWAIN. FREE FROM POCKMARKS, SCARS, AND DISFIGURING DISORDERS. IT IS A FREEDOM WORTH FIGHTING FOR AGANIST THE ENTROPY OF THE UNIVERSE. A FREEDOM FOR.

FINE.

ASS."

Bacardi stands for about ten minutes before shedding a very manly tear.

What a daring dream!

Kahtrak seems only slightly perturbed by the other god's very grabby social habits, and in fact seems likewise awestruck by Bacardi's vision.

And it's for that daring alone that I must say I support it (I must confess that I don't particularly care about posteriors). But we'll need a planet.

Hello.

Craft steps in from the sidelines.

Nice to meet you all... you all seem like a... friendly bunch. And I do like your creations so far, even if the schemes are a little... unorthodox.

He turns and smiles at the sun. At least, the way his cog-mandible-things move suggest something of a smile.

My name is Craft. I am a creature of intricacy and careful work. I hope you all are artisans yourselves?

Craft is torn over whether to examine Bacardi's unusual structure or just try to avoid too much fondling for now.

How about we get started, then?

Sometimes we must start with something simple...

He summons a tiny ball of molten fire, wraps it in stones until it is a reasonably sized rock, and places it at a comfortable distance from the Green Sun.

...But at the same time has great potential. With that in mind, I suggest we avoid putting too much down on Seriba - it's a more phonetic version of "hope" in another tongue - anyway, let's not start something big before it is as good as they get. Kahtrak, would you like to do the honours of gifting this planet with some metals of use, like iron or silver? and could anyone else give the dry rock a drink or two?

Craft creates an Earth-like planet in terms of general heat, speed, time, etc. This planet is called Seriba(3 acts)
Craft gives the planet a molten core (1 act)

Craft considers what he just said, and his audience.

I mean a drink of water, as in some decent-sized oceans. I don't want anybody flooding Seriba in beer.

Nash-Marr is whimpering in some corner of this reality, completely at a loss as to what is going on.

He has not the godly experience of the Maidens or his Lordship; motivations and plans like Kahtrak's for this space's future are beyond him. Nor does he have Bacardi's bravado as an instant assurance that all his actions are pure and right.

Nash-Marr does not think himself a god. He does not see these summoners of stars and cosmos as contemporaries. Nash-Marr has stumbled upon these carousers - punishment of some cruel and obtuse nature for an ungrateful, disobedient whelp.

He sees another who prefers silence, and sidles to the side of the one called Olmolm. Until addressed, Nash-Marr is content to watch and wait.

Unfortunately, Bacardi is not an expert of subtlety or manners.

"WHY HELLO THERE MAJOR MANIMAL, ALTHOUGH I HAVE NEVER SEEN THE LIKES OF A DOG WITH SHEEP-HORNS AND A MISSING EYE. YOU MUST HAVE QUITE A STORY (LIKE MY LAST HANGOVER, THAT WAS A BIT OF A DOOZY) SAY WHY DON'T YOU MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME IN THIS PARTY AND CREATE SOMETHING FANTABULOUS. LIKE I DUNNO SOME MANIMALS? OR BIRDS. OR WHATEVER. ANYTHING IS COOL IN THE PARTY."

Craft notes the whimpering little deity, cowering behind Olmolm, and releases a little sigh.

Oh boy...

He comes over, trying to be as non-threatening as a guy with a hammer as one hand and a sickle as the other can be.

We've got a newborn over here. ...Now, uh...

Craft is really bad at this whole new god introduction business. Terrible at it.

Um... don't worry? We won't hurt you. Well, I won't. I can't guarantee that these guys won't, um- but it's okay! most of them don't seem to be that bad. We're all friends here. Well, uh, for now, you'll probably soon see how relationships can sour and how heavy handed the vengeance can be, but uh. wait. you don't tell newborns that bit. uh.

Apparently, Clockwork mantis creatures can both sweat and hyperventilate. They seem to be very good at those skills too.

...Help?

"DON'T WORRY I AM A MOSTLY BENEVOLENT BEING. THE WORST I WOULD DO IS TAKE CANDID PICTURES OF YOU AND PLACE THEM ON A GLOBAL-SPANNING SOCIAL NETWORK WITH SOME SORT OF CUTESY CAPTION. WHICH WOULD BE INCREDIBLY EMBARRASSING. DO NOT WORRY DOG-GOD, I WILL NOT EMBARRASS THE LIKES OF YOU. MOSTLY BECAUSE I HAVE MYSELF TO EMBARRASS ANYWAY."

Uh, yeah, there's also that. You're a god now. Your very presence here confirms that. probably. uh. you should be at least as powerful as the rest of us, so there's no need to be scared. of us. that much. and besides, you've still got your full acts, which means you got more power right now than... at least half the gods here. even if you don't know how to use them. Just... don't blow yourself up, okay? and don't worry, you'll get the hang of it. uh. probably.

So uh...

What's your name?

Olmolm nods at the tiny mantis god.

He spoke, with the echo of the abyss: "The Three created the light. The Carouser created the ring of creation. When the Fire was loud and the Hound was silent, the Smallest worked hard and radiated kindness."

Olmolm recited the recent events in a deep monotone, words fit to be dramatic. It is uncertain if he really thought like that, or it was just an act of pretentiousness.

"Your work has impressed me, and so the manner you spoke to the young one. I shall make my residence there, but not before I pay my fee."

Olmolm blesses the planet with precious minerals (1 act).
"May it be filled with riches, providing wealth for the ones that are soon to be. As for you Young One" he continued in a silenter tone, "I welcome you."

Craft decides not to mention that he only tried to help out the newborn because panicky young gods tend to accidentally break Craft's crafts in episodes of power incontinence, and he doesn't want that to happen again. The blowing self up part was not a joke warning, and it took him weeks to clean that mess.

He does, however, have one problem with the newt's otherwise harmless and generous contribution:

Uh, thank you, for your helpful aid to Seriba as well... But can you please find some way to describe me other than "The Smallest"? Really, I have heard all the short jokes, and I don't need more people commenting on it, however innocently. People just lose all respect for you. Particularly mortals.

Craft curses some other god's name under his breath.

"As you wish. From now on, you'll be called The One That Looks Like A Mantis."

... I get the feeling you're not one who enjoys critique.

Taking the time to appreciate Seriba's immaculate surface, Lord Rack granted Craft applause. "No name could have been more aptly chosen. And what have we here?" He turned to notice Nash-Marr and soon congregated by the arrival with the other deities. He found the bugbear-werewolf-monster-facemauled-by-a-knife appearance frightening, but the supposedly new god's meekness had the Creativity god cast aside his worries for the time being, his own eyes taking the shine of a too-friendly uncle figure whose neighbors just had a baby.

"It is good to have you here, new friend! Indeed, you are a respected member of our ranks, and share with us the task of populating this universe. Already, we have gotten to work. Behold that which our elongate ally has poeticized: Esmeralda, the green sun, beautiful from afar- ah, one would not recommend too much proximity. The Atrium, this colorful ribbon like a banner of greeting to this system, now full of hidden treasure. Finally Seriba, a world of promise and endless possibility. You too can create works such as these or improve upon them. Begin to exercise your power, and soon, it will feel natural to you. If you thirst for ideas," He flipped another glass gourd of sparkling brew into existence, holding it out to Nash-Marr with a smile: "-then thirst no more." Not wanting to pressure the newcomer, he added for reassurance: "You need not drink it, young one, and may use it however you deem fit, be it for barter or decor. Consider it a welcome gift!"

Craft looked at the elixir with suspicion.

... You have been around newborn gods before, right? Trust me, I don't think intoxicating him is a good idea.

Lord Rack chortled and shook his head at Craft, sitting midspace to brag about his brew. "If you are looking for intoxication, simply standing near Bacardi may do the trick. Nay, my elixir is a channel into the grand stream of ideas, a golden flash of inspiration, a libation of raw and uninhibited creativity!"

Craft's suspicion is gone. It has been replaced by alarm.

Uh, I see where you're going with that, but perhaps it might be better to train him before we give him the wild ideas? Just give him time to adapt to this, maybe learn how to do things responsibly?

I would indeed do that, Craft.

Kahtrak seems to have assumed a much more serious outlook now that the construction of the universe is underway. His brow furrows at the simple action of adding veins of metal to the newborn planet. He adds all kinds of common minerals that Olmolm did not, but mostly copper. Kahtrak is fond of copper because it is incredibly simple to refine.

But they'll need fuel if they're to make any use of this stuff, so why don't I provide that too.

Kahtrak fills large stretches of the planet's crust with oil, coal and natural gas, trying to ensure that any future sentients on the planet will be able to build a decent forge.

You know, Olmolm, I was leaning away from giving them the rarer metals at all. It kind of detracts from the appeal of the...

Looking up from his work, he notices the perpetually wounded newcomer, and the gods who surround him.

You there! You must be who I was sensing earlier. That's a very unusual sphere you have, it's not every day that you meet a god or error.

1 Act for common industrial metals on Seriba.
2 Acts for fossil fuels on Seriba.

"Don't fret the details, dear arthrogod. If he is a god of error, perhaps irresponsibility would favor his growth! ...Though I would not leave the choice of when to partake in it to any other but himself. ...But I do get the feeling too many mentors may overwhelm his presently unburdened soul. What say you?" He asked, finally, turning back to Nash-Marr, who he thought might want a little space.

While nobody was watching, Olmolm hid many bones of fantastical creatures underground, giving a longer past for the planet. This act will ensure that the soul of the world will be more mature. That is what he would have said if anybody dared to ask.

Olmolm enriches the planet with real bones of fake dinosaurbears and dire shelled beasts(2 act).

Nash-Marr just silently takes all this in, Olmolm's Act enough of a distraction to miss Craft's first question. Not a great first impression.

The ink-eyed hound shies closer to Olmolm's side, the initial warm welcome clearing his mind enough to listen properly. Process. Grasp a gourd in still-shaky hands and kick it back without thinking. Choke. Sneeze. Pop a planet into existence, safely out of harm or even attention's way; barely in stable orbit. More of a mistake of a rock, really. -2 acts

Breathe again. "Nash-Marr. My name is Nash-Marr. I do not think I am supposed to be here."

He nods at Lord Rack's suggestion for space, and inches round to examine Seriba. Turns it over in his hands, ragged nails twitching just above its surface.

A nervous twitch. Dig in. Talons furrow and scratch and gouge up a neat quarter of Seriba's surface, carving upon it a messy, chopped-up continent of chasms and steep valleys and jagged peaks. The transformation startles the godling, and he backs away with his face already aghast. -1 Act

He wrings his accursed paws, trying to hide the offending claws and their untidy handiwork. "I-I'm sorry. I should not have done that."

"AW DON'T WORRY AND DON'T APOLOGIZE. THESE ARE VERY GOOD MOUNTAINS. IF YOU LOOK AT MY ANGLE, IT IS ACTUALLY QUITE AESTHETICALLY PLEASING. AND LOOK ON THE BRIGHT SIDE, AT LEAST IT IS NOT IN THE SHAPE OF SOME CRUDE ANATOMICAL APPENDAGE. PLUS IF YOU DISLIKE IT, YOU CAN ALWAYS RESHAPE IT, BUT THAT'S ONLY IF YOU HAVE THE POWER, OF COURSE."

Bacardi stares out to the void of the universe as he tries to remember what the hell he was supposed to do.

"ANYWAY YEAH I THINK I AM SUPPOSED TO DO SOMETHING FAIRLY IMPRESSIVE OR SEMI IMPORTANT. I AM A GOD OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT. I WENT TO THAT POSITION FOR A REASON, THOUGH IT IS HARD TO REMEMBER THE REASON WHEN YOU ARE REQUIRED TO BE DRUNK ON THE JOB."

Bacardi does a fairly melodramatic sweep of his banner wings over the asteroids that Rack had made. In an event that would look terrific in a CGI-rendered film, mist magically appeared out of nowhere and completely cloaked the asteroid belt. The vapors condensed into water, connecting every space-stone with its watery embrace. There was a river of blue flowing around the star in a circle. It defied probably 1000 laws of Newtonian physics and 1000 more in the realms of thermodynamics.

What could you say. God magic! Some things just don't have an explanation.

(-1) The asteroids of "The Atrium"/"Esmeralda's Atrium" are connected together by an astrophysics-violating river ring.
(-1) Asteroids have been enhanced with utility metals (iron, copper, etc.)

Yes, all things can be mended. Observe.

Kahtrak pours a bit of water over the sundered peaks of the new planet.

One day, this water will flow into the crevasses of this world and form majestic fjords, to quench the the thirst of hardy mountain creatures. For now however, this place is far from the sun, with no gasblanket to warm it, so it will not reach that goal. Instead it will freeze, and in so doing shatter the peaks yet further. But this second shattering will be more delicate than what a god of your experience could probably be. It will make the smooth rough, but it will also make the rough smooth.

Also, does that little rock have a name?

1 Act to fill the lowlying areas of Seriba with water. Eventually.

A name for a planet. Makes sense. Nash-Marr's to name, though? Odd. His stories always had their protagonists and villains earmarked in advance; he'd only ever been there to map. Narrate. Catalogue. His role was passive. Self-insertion? Blasphemous. Unspeakable. No good story would have it, no Circle would share it.

It's what got you into this mess, Nash-Marr. It likely as won't help you find your way back, nor ease matters if you did.

"N-no. Someone else can name it."

He creeps back to the scene of his crime, nonetheless, one good eye probing the stone marble's surface. The briefest flicker of its existence, his clumsy claws the ones to pull it from nothingness, then oblivion itself. Nash-Marr shudders, squeezes his good eye - the past eye - shut.

He's alone, isn't he? He can shape this world how he pleases and not tell its story when he wanders home. The thought emboldens Nash-Marr (or maybe it's just Lord Rack's libations) enough to add to his planet a blazing core, godly magic providing energy enough to sustain it despite the planet's tiny size.

2 Acts to give the Unnamed Planet an unnaturally lively molten core.