Godhood XIV - Usurper [Jam Edition Turn 4]

{JAM EDITION}

A universe begins
Exactly as it ends;
Not with a bang, but a whisper.

From the aether it arises slowly, softly,
Its newborn boundries subtancelessly gleaming like the surface of a soap bubble.
Reality gently, gracefully expands,
As though a bud, unfurling its petals to reveal its unique beauty.
Alas! it has nothing yet to be revealed, save the alluring scent of promise.
Just that is enough.

Summoned by the scent of new beginnings,
The butterflies awaken from dormancy.
They go to fufill the meaning of their existences,
To be the caretakers of this bud,
To tend it and shape it into glorious full bloom.
They fly to it on wings of divinity.

Envious eyes take heed
Hungry parasites seize a chance to feed.
A maggot chews on the flower's leaves,
Does it think itself a caterpillar?

***

Seven (Eight?) have gathered to tend this flower.

It is empty of all but a promise of more to come.

The universe awaits creation.

Acts
Chamenos: 5
Dalibora, Abselon: 5
Pacian IX: 5
Phwem: 5
Borlung: 5
Macian Scelle: 5
Alakim: 5

Universal Reference SheetShow

Cosmic ConstructsShow

Empty: The universe awaits thy godly creations

Metaphysical ConstructsShow

Energy of New Beginnings: The birth of a universe empowers all divinities with a certain amount of creative potential! The number of acts received from this event decrease each turn, so be sure to establish something under your spheres before it's completely gone.

Alakim offhandedly waves to the other gods, only barely registering their presence. For now, he's busy.

For now, there is an empty universe, and that won't do.

He cracks his knuckles, and starts his first project. It will need lots of space, to accommodate the creatures that will live there, and to give them quite a space to roam.

The Large-Sized Planetoid, Trovat, has been created for 4 Acts.

Abselon and Dalibora similarly ignored the other gods, focusing first on the cold, empty void of a universe.

"Not going to get very far populating this universe in this state," Abselon observed.

"Naturally, the vagrant decides to make himself a planet before an energy or light source," Dalibora mused, looking at Alakim's tattered robes with disdain. "Typical. We can do better."

"Of course," Abselon replied, pointing a clawed finger at the void.

Dalibora did the same.

The near-empty universe obeyed the commands of the gods of duality, an enormous ball of rapidly-fusing gas emerging a fair distance from Trovat at the will of Abselon.

As the overtly average sun burst into being, so too did a less obvious creation. A fairly small ball of gas far away from the sun, dark blue as compared to the sun's bright yellow. An anti-sun, in a distant orbit of the normal one, absorbing heat and light instead of creating it.

"That's better," said Abselon, observing the handiwork of himself and his eternal companion. "Your 'star' should make things... interesting." He smiled briefly.

"Heh. Indeed it should. Should make for some severe winters, anyway."

Abselon has created a moderate-sized yellow star, deemed Osvet. [3 acts]

Dalibora has created a small blue anti-star in a distant orbit around Osvet, named Zlovest. [2 acts]

Phwem swam around the universe, happily greeting the other gods.

"Oh hi there mister dragons! Those sure are some pretty suns!"

"Hey there mister cloaky! I love your planet, but it's a bit BORING just sitting there all round and stoney. Lemme liven it up a bit."

With that, Phwem poked and molded the planet, pushing down valleys and wide trenches the size of oceans, and pushing up mountain ranges and plateaus, eventually leaving the planet with five distinct continents, each separated by massive gulfs and trenches taking up three quarters of the planet.[2 acts]

"Alright, now that's a lot more interesting. But it looks like I don't have enough energy to fill it with all the other stuff it needs." Phwem grew sad briefly, but quickly smiled again. "I know! I can ask other people to do it!" With that, Phwem dived into the fabric of the universe once again, seeking out one who would help him out.

Created many geological formations on the planet.(2 acts)

Phwem skipped through the universe, visiting gods in turn and asking for their help and thinking of all the things they could do.
_____________

"OOH! Snakeman!" Phwem swam over to Borlung, "You want environment and change and stuff right? Can you help me make the BEST ATMOSPHERE EVER! We just surround the planet with air and- WAIT! What if instead of air we used WATER! That would be so amazing! A round water sphere around the planet, with air where water should be! Then we can make all our creatures breath water YES THIS IS SO AWESOME! Make sure you do that Snakeman!" Phwem once again dived away, already thinking of more ideas for their universe.

Chamenos stands aside and watches. It seems a shame, he thinks, that any future life would have nothing much to look at or, perhaps, navigate by. It would be so easy to get lost at sea, for example, without any constellations or something.

But it wasn't as though he could be arsed to make up elaborate shapes using star constructs. So instead he just flung some around like glitter.

Chamenos has created a nice, sparkly sky for 3 Acts

With an unexpected jerk in spacetime, there unveiled a new face from the void. A regal robe, a golden circlet, an ancient face. Pacian arrived in the universe silently, but his appearance did not go unnoticed.

"It seems," he said slowly, "that I am late." He looked around, taking stock of the few existing creations of the world, floating past the antistar and towards the planet. "No matter." Another long pause. "It seems I have not missed too much."

Slowly and with a sense of purpose, he lifted an arm in front of himself. Where he pointed, a ball of rock began to assemble from nothing. It would orbit Trovat, a moon to the larger body. Pacian did not lower his arm. Gradually, the surface of the large moon swirled with mists, and an atmosphere developed on its surface. Over time, it thickened, and from it fell droplets, forming rivulets that ran into rivers that flowed into lakes that massed into seas which touched and formed an ocean, stretching around half the planet. The water carved hills and valleys into the planet's surface, whilst mountains shepherded clouds and the moon-planet became a temperate place. Still Pacian continued to hold out his hand at the planet, and from the ground broke shoots of green. Up grew a number of short plants, stretching eternally towards Osvet. The moon-planet became a patchwork of blue and green. At last, Pacian lowered his hand. "That is enough for now." A pause, for consideration. "Zemina is a good name."

Zemina has been created. It is a small-planet sized moon in orbit of Trovat. (2 acts)
Zemina has a breathable small planet atmosphere. (1 act)
Zemina has enough water to form oceans around half the planet (1 act)
Zemina now has life: simplistic green shrubs. (1 act)

Phwem, already impatient, decided that the awesome atmosphere should be started immediately. He flew over to Trovat and began to pour water onto it. [3 acts]

This atmosphere of water only went to about half of where it should, reaching only to the tops of the most raised regions, and leaving the mountains completely dry. But this was no ordinary water, as in it was all the gasses necessary for life, and unlike normal water, it was not pulled off or boiled off by the vacuum of space.

Phwem has created the beginnings of a Watersphere for Trovat. (3 acts)

Edited for reasons of not enough acts for waterair

"...I can't help but wonder how a 'Watersphere' would react to...the antisun -- okay this is dumb. Seriously dumb." Chamenos muttered to himself in his little corner of the universe, though it was clear that he intended for someone to hear him. "What about space travel? How are they going to break through this watersphere? They need a lot of velocity to reach it...but once they do they're ramming themselves into water which isn't soft at high velocities..."

From somewhere underneath his dark cloak, Chamenos released two of his arms and then rested his face in his hands. It appeared that he was exceedingly invested in witnessing the development of space travel.

Alakim smiles and bows to Phwem, Abselon and Dalibora, silently appreciating their contributions. His gaze then turns towards Zemina; and, taking in the shrubs, he decides to add a photosynthesis-based species to Trovat as well, about a third of the way from the surface of the developing watersphere. He makes a mental note to jazz it up later.

He then lays a hand on Chamenos' shoulder. "Patience. It will be a long journey, but all the more rewarding for it. They will figure it out in time."

Trovat now has life: Autotrophic algae. (1 act)

Phwem noticed Chamenos' distress and went over.

"Um, I hadn't thought about that, but I'm sure that they could launch spaceships from the edge of the Watersphere, since the wateryness means that they can swim up in it!"

Chamenos twists away from Alakim's calming hand and silently pouts. It is clear she doesn't really think much of this planet, though it is more out of childish close-mindedness than out of any real criticism.

With a sigh, she turns her mind to things to create in the future.

Phwem now sat around, thinking about what to do next. He had no power remaining, and he was sure that few others did either, so he decided that they could use this time to plan.

"Hmm. So the Watersphere is going along awesomely, and the airwater is coming soon, but we need life. Hmm."

Phwem sat down on the surface of the watersphere, tilting his head in thought. "So there's Algae in the water, so we could have creatures that swim around in the water, and eat the algae. But they'd need to not get hurt by the water too. But wait!" Phwem sat up suddenly, "What if we had a species made out of something that gets smushed by the water, but is fine with it? What if we had a species made out of rubber, or foam, or something squishy that won't explode when it's smooshed?" Phwem grinned a big grin. "This is going to be SO AWESOME!"

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."

Alakim grumbles something about elitism, and complexity being more meaningful than elegance.

Phwem frowns at the man. "You just don't understand true art." He harumphs, holding his ottery nose up high.

"I suspect that, inherently, I do."

He turns back to the moon and watches squidfrogs for a while.

"Or perhaps not. Maybe it is not ours to define."

With a sidelong glance at Trovat, he shrugs.

"But if nothing else, I cannot spurn novelty. We'll talk when you've established a movement, not sketched a concept."

Pacian spends several divine moments regarding the changes to Zemina. They seemed good, certainly conductive to it developing a stable and advanced biosphere. He'd had long enough to learn about these things whilst he was reforming, after... he shivered.

"I must express my thanks," he said to Scelle, drifting gently. He paused momentarily before continuing, "For your changes will certainly benefit that world." He tilted his head slightly. "I am King Pacian IX, His Royal Highness, Monarch of the Katharan Realms, Deus Ascendus and Creator of Zemina." He'd had some time to think up that penultimate title, more of a descriptor than anything, but that last one was a spur of the moment addition. Titles were important, after all. He had plenty more, but these gods probably didn't care how many realms he had been protector of.

After a few moments, he asked, "And you are?"

Alakim rolls his eyes and quietly says, "Good that the proud and pretentious are singling themselves out early. Less time for me to waste on their pompous blather."

He sighs and begins pacing, wondering if there's anyone much worth speaking to. He eventually decides to approach Abselon and Dalibora, offering a handshake to each.

Despite having no mouth, Chamenos sneered. "Good that the simple and idiotic are making themselves known. Less time for me to waste on their asinine projects."

He jerked back and looked around, as though surprised that he had said it. But there was nobody around to have said the words for him, unless some starry constructs suddenly grew vocal chords. Pulling himself further inside his dark cloak, he managed to quickly skulk around to the dark side of Zemina. Impressive, considering there was no actual ground to skulk on.

The twin gods stare intently at the outstretched hand of Alakim.

What do you suppose this means?

A greeting ritual, perhaps. Maybe we should return the gesture.

Eventually, Abselon places his claw in the vagrant's hand. He and Dalibora simultaneously gaze in perplexion at this "handshake" gesture, before

Dalibora performs one as well.

Both gods focus their pupilless eyes on Alakim for a fair bit longer, wings pointlessly beating behind them,

until Dalbora breaks the silence.

"Hey there... vagrant. Glad to see another god that isn't a pompous waste of space or a hyperactive moron. I'm Dalibora and this is Abselon, gods of death and life, respectively."

Abselon keeps quiet as Dalibora speaks. She's always been a fair bit better than him at dealing with other gods. Wouldn't want to inadvertently spark a divine war again.

Macian Scelle blinks as though he hadn't even considered greetings. He had, in fact, not.

"Macian Scelle," he says with a nod. "The old church used to call me The Great Artisan, but... Never really went in much for titles."

He gives Alakim a sidelong glance, considering a retort, but trails off when that glance brings Gakba and its patron into his view.

"Wh– What is that?"

"A pleasure to meet you. You may call me Alakim, god of discovery."

Alakim then turns to face Gakba as well. "...Hm, the smaller bit is nowhere near far out enough to maintain an orbit, but he doesn't seem too concerned about that... peculiar."

"Hi everyone! I'm Phwem!" Phwem waved his paw, beaming at the gods around him, insults melting away in memory as quickly as a discarded popsicle on a hot summers day.

"A disaster," said Pacian, turning also to look at the planetoids on a collision course, "waiting to happen." A few moments later, he then went on, "Unless it's intentional."