The Cataclysmic Endeavour - SIGNUPS OPEN
12-27-2023, 01:19 AM
In a world where life was still new, in a garden of plenty where death was just an idea, as easily shrugged off as a blanket that has become uncomfortably warm, in a pristine black and gold temple where pleasure was all and forever and everything was perfect, a god grew bored.
And one day to her most devoted of acolytes The Creator said: “I have grown tired with this stagnant world, this aimless purgatory where every day is the same and no need is ever unanswered. I will tear this world to the foundation and in its place I will build something new, something crueler perhaps, but something capable of change, of surprise. A world where the brevity of life allows it to have some kind of meaning, some kind of purpose.”
And the Tourist asked: “But how, with a brief lifespan, could one being expect to experience the boundless wonders of your creation? Even I have scarcely whet my palette on what might be seen.”
And the Populist asked: “Surely it would not be right to do this without first listening to the people of this world? Many would happily trade purpose for eternal comfort and they should have the voice to say so.”
And the Libertine asked: “I fear you may be mistaken. I worry that pain and death would not enhance the joys of life but poison it with fear and anxiety and in doing so detract from the wonders you have created. Please might you reconsider?”
And the Judge asked: “A permanent death may be a useful tool, but like all tools it should not be wielded indiscriminately. Against the wicked, certainly, but surely you would not wish this fate upon the most righteous of your devotees?”
And the Hobbyist asked: “You would doom the world to decay and death simply because you are bored? Have you sampled all the meals your chefs might make? Listened to all the tales your storytellers might tell? The songs your bards might sing? We live upon a wellspring of infinite potential, please don’t throw that away because of a malady as easily treated as boredom.”
And so she relented. The Creator announced instead that she would take a week and she would think it over before she did anything rash, giving serious consideration to her acolytes’ arguments.
And yet before that week was over, before she had time to announce her decision one way or another, the acolytes, fearful that their perfect world would be despoiled, met in secret, plotted and schemed and carried out a binding magic.
From the outside it would have been childsplay to dispel the ritual that trapped her within her own temple. From the inside? The acolytes were thorough, no gaps for her to slip through, no means for her to demand aid from any who would willingly provide it.
For eons nothing changed. Nobody entered the temple, and nobody exited it. Inside days had turned to months had turned to years and though she began her confinement furiously tearing at the walls, desperate to force her way out, eventually that fire was quelled by the simple passage of time. Eventually it was rekindled by that same passage of time, a colder flame, boiling under her every action. She willed herself to become the monster that they decided that she was, that one day when she leaves this place she will unleash that slow boiling rage upon the universe itself, and plunge everyone and everything into oblivion.
Eventually, long after hope has been abandoned, she senses the tiniest of cracks in her cage. A hole through which she’s able to poke the thinnest sliver of her influence through. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, not enough that she can undo her prison, though she knows she will be able to widen that crack with time. Her escape, her revenge, her victory, and with it the obliteration of all things, it’s all just a matter of time now.
She is impatient though. Certainly she could wait an unknown amount of time longer to do this the easy way, but perhaps others could be recruited, or forced if necessary, to her cause and serve as her eyes and ears, and blades, in the world outside. If the acolytes were killed, then her bonds would break and she would finally be free, now. Not in some hypothetical time that might come centuries in the future. If she acted quickly it could be soon, weeks or even days.
And so she reached out into the worlds beyond to try to find those who could aid her in this task, and bind them to her service, and perhaps if they were skilled and obedient when all this was over they might be permitted to sit by her side in the wreckage of the world.
And one day to her most devoted of acolytes The Creator said: “I have grown tired with this stagnant world, this aimless purgatory where every day is the same and no need is ever unanswered. I will tear this world to the foundation and in its place I will build something new, something crueler perhaps, but something capable of change, of surprise. A world where the brevity of life allows it to have some kind of meaning, some kind of purpose.”
And the Tourist asked: “But how, with a brief lifespan, could one being expect to experience the boundless wonders of your creation? Even I have scarcely whet my palette on what might be seen.”
And the Populist asked: “Surely it would not be right to do this without first listening to the people of this world? Many would happily trade purpose for eternal comfort and they should have the voice to say so.”
And the Libertine asked: “I fear you may be mistaken. I worry that pain and death would not enhance the joys of life but poison it with fear and anxiety and in doing so detract from the wonders you have created. Please might you reconsider?”
And the Judge asked: “A permanent death may be a useful tool, but like all tools it should not be wielded indiscriminately. Against the wicked, certainly, but surely you would not wish this fate upon the most righteous of your devotees?”
And the Hobbyist asked: “You would doom the world to decay and death simply because you are bored? Have you sampled all the meals your chefs might make? Listened to all the tales your storytellers might tell? The songs your bards might sing? We live upon a wellspring of infinite potential, please don’t throw that away because of a malady as easily treated as boredom.”
And so she relented. The Creator announced instead that she would take a week and she would think it over before she did anything rash, giving serious consideration to her acolytes’ arguments.
And yet before that week was over, before she had time to announce her decision one way or another, the acolytes, fearful that their perfect world would be despoiled, met in secret, plotted and schemed and carried out a binding magic.
From the outside it would have been childsplay to dispel the ritual that trapped her within her own temple. From the inside? The acolytes were thorough, no gaps for her to slip through, no means for her to demand aid from any who would willingly provide it.
For eons nothing changed. Nobody entered the temple, and nobody exited it. Inside days had turned to months had turned to years and though she began her confinement furiously tearing at the walls, desperate to force her way out, eventually that fire was quelled by the simple passage of time. Eventually it was rekindled by that same passage of time, a colder flame, boiling under her every action. She willed herself to become the monster that they decided that she was, that one day when she leaves this place she will unleash that slow boiling rage upon the universe itself, and plunge everyone and everything into oblivion.
Eventually, long after hope has been abandoned, she senses the tiniest of cracks in her cage. A hole through which she’s able to poke the thinnest sliver of her influence through. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, not enough that she can undo her prison, though she knows she will be able to widen that crack with time. Her escape, her revenge, her victory, and with it the obliteration of all things, it’s all just a matter of time now.
She is impatient though. Certainly she could wait an unknown amount of time longer to do this the easy way, but perhaps others could be recruited, or forced if necessary, to her cause and serve as her eyes and ears, and blades, in the world outside. If the acolytes were killed, then her bonds would break and she would finally be free, now. Not in some hypothetical time that might come centuries in the future. If she acted quickly it could be soon, weeks or even days.
And so she reached out into the worlds beyond to try to find those who could aid her in this task, and bind them to her service, and perhaps if they were skilled and obedient when all this was over they might be permitted to sit by her side in the wreckage of the world.
Heaven Help Us | Make Room!!!! | I'm Not Okay (I Promise)
Hang 'Em High | The Only Hope For Me Is You | Zero Percent | Early Sunsets Over Monroeville | DESTROYA | Demolition Lovers | To The End
Surrender The Night | Disenchanted | The Ghost Of You | Party Poison | Vampires Will Never Hurt You | The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You
Hang 'Em High | The Only Hope For Me Is You | Zero Percent | Early Sunsets Over Monroeville | DESTROYA | Demolition Lovers | To The End
Surrender The Night | Disenchanted | The Ghost Of You | Party Poison | Vampires Will Never Hurt You | The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You