RE: Godhood XIV - Usurper [Jam Edition]
03-20-2013, 04:24 AM
Macian Scelle spends some time simply watching the other gods. It was, of course, too much to expect that there would be no others in a fresh new universe, but this was... rather a lot. Rather strange ones too. Still, no obvious war gods, no obvious destruction gods, no overt chaos and disease and degradation. It might do.
Eventually.
A loupe materializes from somewhere in the apron as Trovat forms; it is polished – pointlessly of course, as all of Macian Scelle's tools are always immaculate but wear-worn – as the suns come to be; it is rolled between two fingers as the rest of the ersatz stars filled the skies no life yet beholds; it is eventually raised to a narrowed eye as hydrospheres and biospheres and atmospheres intertwine.
"This is impressive, but clumsy." He pokes at a mountain critically and runs a finger languidly trough the gaseous water. "Form over substance or style."
"These are utilitarian, but elegant." He gives an appreciative nod to the artistry of the balance and draws a drop of starstuff from Osvet. "Good material, too."
"And this... This has promise." As he rolls the stellar glob into iron and nickel, he draws level with Zemina. "But it is static. Inchoate."
Before anyone can react, a fettling knife is sent slamming through the moon, neatly bisecting it. With a glassblower's practiced ease, he forms the starstuff into an active core for Zemina [1 act] slips it into the center, and has it sealed shut and back in orbit before the shrubs can notice a thing.
"I will see this sculpture polished yet; a brooch from a promising, but rough, gem."
He smiles as though even he's aware he's not being very funny.
"Speaking of..."
He flicks the little planetoid, shaking its new core up a bit and sending metals and minerals – and a fair bit of his divine essence for good measure – shooting through the crust. Zemina is seeded, but not overloaded, with precious materials of all kinds [2 acts].
"But with none to appreciate it, what good is art?"
Dipping his fingers into banks of clay along Zemina's beaches and rivers, he forms figurines of utmost delicacy and scatters them across the moon. The tiny things come to life as he completes them, leaving it covered with a carefully balanced ecosystem of insect and small semiaquatic animal life to complement the existing plant life [1 and 1 acts].
The new creatures don't seem to be up to appreciating much art, or doing anything much beyond foraging and reproducing, but he grins at them nonetheless. After all,
"Time is a material as much as any other."
Eventually.
A loupe materializes from somewhere in the apron as Trovat forms; it is polished – pointlessly of course, as all of Macian Scelle's tools are always immaculate but wear-worn – as the suns come to be; it is rolled between two fingers as the rest of the ersatz stars filled the skies no life yet beholds; it is eventually raised to a narrowed eye as hydrospheres and biospheres and atmospheres intertwine.
"This is impressive, but clumsy." He pokes at a mountain critically and runs a finger languidly trough the gaseous water. "Form over substance or style."
"These are utilitarian, but elegant." He gives an appreciative nod to the artistry of the balance and draws a drop of starstuff from Osvet. "Good material, too."
"And this... This has promise." As he rolls the stellar glob into iron and nickel, he draws level with Zemina. "But it is static. Inchoate."
Before anyone can react, a fettling knife is sent slamming through the moon, neatly bisecting it. With a glassblower's practiced ease, he forms the starstuff into an active core for Zemina [1 act] slips it into the center, and has it sealed shut and back in orbit before the shrubs can notice a thing.
"I will see this sculpture polished yet; a brooch from a promising, but rough, gem."
He smiles as though even he's aware he's not being very funny.
"Speaking of..."
He flicks the little planetoid, shaking its new core up a bit and sending metals and minerals – and a fair bit of his divine essence for good measure – shooting through the crust. Zemina is seeded, but not overloaded, with precious materials of all kinds [2 acts].
"But with none to appreciate it, what good is art?"
Dipping his fingers into banks of clay along Zemina's beaches and rivers, he forms figurines of utmost delicacy and scatters them across the moon. The tiny things come to life as he completes them, leaving it covered with a carefully balanced ecosystem of insect and small semiaquatic animal life to complement the existing plant life [1 and 1 acts].
The new creatures don't seem to be up to appreciating much art, or doing anything much beyond foraging and reproducing, but he grins at them nonetheless. After all,
"Time is a material as much as any other."