Divinity

[Lumaes]

This is Nothing,
Here is no light and no darkness.
It is composed of nothing, it has no substance and no emptyness.
It is neither fluid nor solid.
It is neither deep nor shallow.
It is all that is, but not all that could be.
It is Nothing.

You are the errant thought.
The impossible whisper;
"I am"
and so is.

[Arhra]

In the sucking non-space of nothingness, a loose assemblage of nothing stirred. It could not be called alive, for it did not do anything a living thing did, unable to even think. There was nothing to think about, nothing to do. With nothing to define itself by, it had no identity of its own and was as one with Nothing. No time passed, for there was no time to pass. But some endless eternity a moment later, this errant pattern grasped the tail end of its own existence and recognised itself.

I am Shimael.

And in naming himself, he distinguished himself from the nothingness. Shimael declared himself a thing distinct and separate from the nothingness. He was aware because he decided it would be so.

But still there was nothing around the ancient, newborn god as he pondered his own existence. And then Shimael concieved the desire for something other than the unimaginable blank void around him. He looked into the Nothing and percieved it as other than it was and, in doing so, created the first lie. He lied to the nothing and convinced it that it was other than it was.

What he created was nothing and yet it was more than Nothing. You could not see nothingness, you could not hear nothingness, nor taste, touch or smell it. The darkness of this new formed void held its own tenebrous existance. And like Shimael's desire and unlike nothingness, it held an awareness of a lacking in itself and the dream of becoming something more. A self contained expanse of space, folded in upon itself so that the end became the beginning, existing between the edges of its own being, it lacked any true substance and yet was.

The young, ageless god regarded his fabrication with joy and then withdrew into his thoughts, wondering what next he might create to fill it.

[Whightwolf]

Reality has its own guides, the first of which is order. It loves it with a furious passion beyond anything a mortal could understand. Thoughts which had been so free, so utterly without compunction except upon running into one another and altering now felt a imperative. A need to run together like drops of liquid. Running together they adopt and mould together until…

I am Typhon

Typhon looked about him at the nothingness. Seeing the edges and where reality merged back with itself. It was so empty. Yet He was not alone. He sensed another. Another like himself, older, moments and yet infinitely older. Is he my creator?

No. came the response, I created myself.

Within this collection of thoughts though came a desire to prove himself to it’s older. Wrapping himself around a single point, as a hand clasping around nothing. He created.

A spark. Opening out Typhon released the spark which gave the void the scope it deserved. The spark grew and grew. Typhon fed it on the very force of His will. Soon a great ball of fire raged at the centre of the nothing.

I name you Sol.

[Lumaes]

Thusly Sol was created - a new light so that darkness may be seen.
It was a pinpoint in the ever-large darkness, its luminous form cast light on all it could but it could not shed its brilliance on even a hundredth of the inifinite blackness.
And so, Sol became afraid - it was alone (for the gods had yet to shape forms that they might be percieved) and it was not enough. The fireball shook and shivered overwrought by the surrounding blackness, by what fateful twist was it born into such a place?
Such was Sol's terror that it was shaken to peices, scattering its fiery embers deep into the ocean of blackness.
But these twinkling embers cast their lights out further into the void, they were still tiny and insignificant against the subsuming blackness but they were content for against all else, they had each others company.
Thusly did Sol die and thusly were all the stars born.

[Benedict]

It was nothing, because to be something, one must do something. But It was dormant, quiet, still, dead. But so did something happen: Light, at first. Little pinpoints of light traveling through the Void, bringing being to that which was not. And it stirred because for the first time there was something and then It was.

It was a nameless thing without reason nor mind, a reaction to an action. Without seeing it saw the lights coming closer and malcontent grew in its essence, for it did not wish to be disturbed, and then there was warmth: The stars were so close now that they warmed up the Void around the thing and It became afraid. It did not like these new sensations. But before it could react to this new knowledge a small star passed It by and with its newborn fires burned with a strength indescribable, and its flames licked the thing that so feared it.

A soundless scream rose from It and traveled far and wide, its pain so great that the star flickered for but a moment from the life sucking torment of the creature. And a creature it had become, for now it had a clear intent. It focused on the fleeing star and with a voice that made no sound but shook the space around It, It growled: "GARM!"

He flew screaming after the fiery orb, reaching out with dark tendrils in an effort to capture the elusive prey. How long did the chase go on? Impossible to tell in those early moments of the Creation, but the creature called Garm would not relent and in a murderous frenzy he enveloped the star, sucking its very essence into his bottomless belly, killing it.

And it ruptured, its cold dead husk disintegrating into dust that scattered all around and Garm drew back in surprise. What was this? The cloud of matter swirled all around him until it slowly drifted away, pulled off by the attraction generated by a star an endless distance away, but which none the less would soon find itself surrounded by the building blocks of worlds.

Garm, though wary, started to follow it, wondering what would happen to the corpse parts of his devoured prey.

[Rhiya Ravenwing]

In the beginning, there was nothing. Nothing but the void known as Before Creation. From that empty, infinite void came an idea.

The idea grew,taking on shape and substance, until finally, it became thought.
I am Tserrth.
The thought broadcasted itself like a ripple upon the pond of destiny, shaping and warping the void around it. It was distinctly different from the rest of the thoughts and newborn entities.

And thus, with a Thought, Tserrth took form. A shifting, shapeless form of shadows and light, Tserrth opened a consciousness as brilliant as the myriad of newborn stars... and saw the void - empty, lonely, desolate of anything Tserrth's Thoughts yearned for.

So Tserrth Thought, and brought forth an Idea. Taking from the void, Tserrth wove a net - a vast and impressive thing that caught stars wherever Tserrth cast it. Tserrth took the net and cast it into one part of the void, capturing the fiery orbs with ease.

Slowly, she brought them closer together, using a great entity finger to swirl them around until finally...

Tserrth released the net around the captors, and took a moment to admire the Idea, the Thought. But the spiralling stars did not last long enough to please her. The spinning orbs in the middle became agressive and swallowed other stars until finally...

Tserrth put forth another Idea. Another Thought. With a great deific hand, Tserrth swept together the void and some stars, and crushed them so that they became but a single point in the great nothingness around them. Then, Tserrth put that point into the middle of the spiralling stars.

You shall be the Point where All has Gone, and All will be Released.

Thus, Tserrth set to work, creating vast galaxies and setting them into motion.

[Whightwolf]

Typhon watched as events unfolded. He watched as the Universe was born.

First he saw the death of Sol and in an instant knew sorrow for the first time. Yet as it’s death give birth to thousands upon thousands of balls light and life he felt his Sorrow fade and Joy rise in it’s place. For a moment he paused and marvelled at the sheer majesty of their rushing joy. As knew beings formed themselves to join himself and Shimael.

And then for the first time Typhon felt anger.

He as the newborn Garm sucked the life from on of the shards of Sol. Scattering it’s flameless essence as a cloud. For a moment Typhon pondered retribution. Of taking a fiery destructive form and making war. But Typhon was slow to anger and dismissed the thoughts of rage. Still he gathered together the cloud in memory.

For a moment his dark thoughts were subdued as he gazed upon the work of Tserrth. For the first time he saw the beauty of another beings work and his faith in the newborn his kind was restored. He watched as the new being created spiralling arcs from the shards of Sol. The Stars formed the great beautiful strokes of the first Art.

Typhon was inspired. Taking the lifeless cloud in his great hands he travelled the central galaxy. That in the very centre of the endless void. Which had been made from Sol’s great heart, finding then the greatest of the stars, the most perfect shard.

He set the cloud in motion flowing around the star bound by the love of order that creation possesses. Spinning it faster and faster he begins to shape and mould it. One speck of dust touches another, then another joins it, then another and another. Typhon formed great Orbs from the body of the star and let them spin, as they would for eternity, around the greatest of stars.

Typhon pledged then that these orbs would be full of life. They would be an eternal monument of life to the first death in the universe. This was the word of Typhon Starfather and he would honour it till the end of all things.

OOC: Yes, yes I did just give myself a title lol. Also just remembered who (what?) Garm is…. Bad dog.

[Lumaes]

Once set in motion the stars refused to be still, whirling feverishly through the dark universe. The fiery motes had no voices with which to sing their joy and so they danced, discontent with the path they had been set they flung themselves from their orbits, a trail of dazzling light streaming between the galaxies as the fireballs swapped partners and began their whirlings anew.
Typhon's orbs were helpless, dragged behind the feverish path of their homestar and spun apart from one another until they were alone, each tossed recklessly from one star to another as the dance wore on.

[Arhra]

Shimael stirred from his reverie and was troubled. Here were things that were not of his devising and thoughts not his own. Stars came into being and shifted in their patterns, reeking of another's hand. Coiling back into the elder darkness, Shimael reached out one vast, tenebrous hand to extinguish the stars and then hesitated, seeing them dance in their merry cascades.

Shimael knew that there was himself and all else was the Other. By defining himself, he had gained his identity and shaped something of what was not him into a shape more pleasing to him. But now there were wills at work other than his and they shaped things according to their own desires. Aside from it being a reflection of his own actions upon it, Shimael had never pondered the idea of the Other being like himself.

This new thought upon him, Shimael desired to know of the other gods. But his thoughts were not their thoughts. They were minds alien to him, and he to them. Wishing to communicate, Shimael bent his will upon concieving a way so that he make his thought clear to them. So that he might be understood, Shimael forged words and turned his mind to their delivery.

With a crack that echoed across all starry creation, sound sprang from the depths of the void and Shimael gave voice to his question.

"I am Shimael. I came from Nothing and I dreamed this place from Nothing. You are not my thoughts nor a making of mine. What are you and why do you come here?"

[Whightwolf]

All the Gods had been working with only a mind to their own wishes, their own desires. It was fitting then that the First was also the First Speaker. It seemed clear to Typhon what the course must be if they could create these wonders divided, then what they could do in concert would be fantastic. So mustered his own Voice. The greatest tool of any God. His own was deeper than that of Shimael, less of a crack more the rolling thunder of a distant storm.

“I am Typhon. I am of My own Thoughts and My own Making. I made Sol to highlight your creation and it gave birth to the Stars. Others though have arranged them, or slain them as they saw fit. From the dead I created the Orbs. I ask you Shimael to help me fill the Orbs with life to better fill the art of your creation.”

As Typhon spoke the stars continued their dance. Slowly the Orbs chose their favourite partners though and while the starts swirled and danced with joy the Orbs span sedately around their chosen star. Some were hot, almost molten with the furious life of their star while others span further out in the Void’s cold.

Some stars had one Orb some had many, some Orbs were bound between multiple stars. Everywhere the situation was different but always the beauty of creation continued.

[Benedict]

As the dust was drawn in by the clearest of the stars, the great blackness that was Garm stalked it, but was forced to stop as the great star's light hit him: He could come no closer to this thing while there was no darkness he could hide in.

But then he sensed something that was neither star nor dust, a being. The Thing that was Darker than the Darkness waited still as he observed the creatures shape the dust and create the Orbs before the spun off to be caught by other stars. What was this? He thought as he experienced the presence of thoughts not his own. He was not alone. He was not the only being that stalked the endless Void. But this thing created! Was this the cause of the fiery orbs that had scorched him so? The light that had parted him from the Nothing?

And it was at this moment that Garm first heard. The cracking of the words of Shimael made the Shadow reel back as he was overwhelmed by the sound and soon after the rolling thunder of the creator followed, proclaiming himself as Typhon.
There were others! Others filling the Void with light and creations. Garm saw this and was not pleased. And so Garm decided to make his presence known, and it was not with sound emanating from himself, rather it was sound being consumed by him that flowed past the Others in a growling whisper before he consumed the words:

"I am Garm and I was awoken by the Light. I swallowed the Light of the Star from which the Orbs were spun and I am the End."

As he finished he proved his claim and reached out with countless tendrils of Entropy, seeking out as many Orbs as he could find and cooled their fiery surfaces, inadvertantly setting off the process that turned the hot matter of the fires into gases that blanketed the Orbs in atmospheres.
Pulling back he viewed his work with feral thoughts, unsure of how he liked the result of his consumption.

[Lumaes]

(*this note is a brief reprimand - the actions which I set in motion in my role as Fate are not to be counterdicted save by effort on the god's behalf. I will let Typhon's last actions stand for now but please keep this in mind in the future.)

[Rhiya Ravenwing]

And then, there came a great silence. Tserrth was aware now fully of the Others - entities wholly separate and wholly different. They were the ones that created the stars. Tserrth merely gathered and shepherded.

The silence echoed through the shadows of the void, filling it completely with its complete nothingness. Then...

With but a Thought, Tserrth brought forth another Idea, shaped it, and sent it forth. Through the silence that blanketed the Void and the Stars, Tserrth's voice was but a whisper - barely heard above the silence that sighed like the Solar Winds of the Beginning.
"I am Tserrth," ("I am Tserrth,") the deity proclaimed softly, the voice echoing into the silence. "I am the Thoughts and Ideas that are and will become." ("I am the Thoughts and Ideas that are and will become.")

With a finger that swept cosmic dust about it, Tserrth caused another cluster of stars off into a swirling galaxy. Then, gathering the net, Tserrth cast it out into the void and snagged more stars. Drawing them in, Tserrth's whispering voice was once again heard like the sighing of silence.

"I am the Herder of Stars. I create what I shall call... Art." ("I am the Herder of Stars. I create what I shall call... Art.")

The silence filled the void. It was satisfying.

[Arhra]

"To... better... my creation?" There was something quiet and terrible to Shimael's voice as he responded to Typhon's words, "You attempted to banish the darkness of my making and now, with your creation reborn in a shape that it may live with the darkness and no longer be alone, you speak of creating slaves. Lesser selves like and unlike ourselves whose only purpose in existence is remembered death."

"And you," Shimael added, moving his thought to consider Garm, "The light pains you and you desire to be one with nothing? Let go. Fall into deep, unending sleep inside my darkness and trouble my creation no more."

Addressing them both, he spoke, "If you desire a monument to death, then let there be death."

Fulfilling the doom he had pronounced, Shimael birthed the antithesis of fire. A great, shadowy torrent of water swept out across the cosmos, raging and wild. Where Garm and Typhon moved admidst the orbs, the cleansing, destructive flood plowed through, stars snuffed like candles and the earthen orbs battered and broken in the waves. Shimael brooded and watched, leaving the other stars untouched and untarnished in the heavens.

[secretskull]

Late, but not too late, another existence began.
I am Bidross. He was born far from the others like him, and knew nothing of their conflict.
Bidross looked upon the newly formed universe, and was bored by it. The masses of darkness that populated it confined him, and even the light of the stars was dull to him. Bidross set his thoughts to their destruction, but as he began, he got an idea. On the crest of this idea, he willed, he created. Between the darkness and the light, he desired another thing, and he created it. Color.

Had Bidross possessed a mouth, and had such a thing existed, he would have smiled.
He spread his color, giving it to the stars, letting their color’s range across all those he possessed. Bidross even granted some of the endless void color, the suggestion of the deepest hues was added to it.

He beheld his creations: The array of stars now shined, each one different from its fellows. And the darkness; now with it’s own quiet life.

Yet his creations wavered. He had not covered even a thousandth of the endless black, and this black threatened to swallow the colors he had made. So Bidross willed himself to have form, to bolster his creations against their destruction. Every shade, of every color made it up, each one seeming to pulse, both alone, and as a whole, each pulse strengthening his colors. This was the form that he took for himself, to gather his colors into one, and to strengthen them.

Only then did he see the mass of light behind him fade away sharply. It may have been so far away from him as to not matter, and it may have been next to him almost pressing against his form. Distance was still unstable, and could not be understood.

[Benedict]

Garm sat silent as another god introduced itself to the scattered divinities that all were now creating such a ruckus throughout the Creation. And before the blot of darkness that was Garm had time to ponder the words of the Artist known as Tserrth, the first speaker now raised his voice and worded his dismay at the presence of creatures not of his own making.

Before Garm had a chance of replying, Shimael swept the galaxy around him and Typhon with water, snuffing out Stars and smashing Orbs in what Garm could only percieve as a demonstration of power. Floating quietly in space, the shady deity reached out his tendrils to examine the destruction. It was only minor, compared to the Universe itself, but none the less he was annoyed that the gases he conjured had been swept away in the wave.

On the other hand, quite undeliberately, Garm's entropical presence close to the Great Star consumed all the water sent against it, and when all cleared, the Star still shone brightly, alone but alive. Maybe Typhon would be thankful? Maybe he could be convinced to focus less on Light and more on Matter?

Still, as he turned his tendrils to Shimael, it was the new sensation of laughter that was swallowed by Garm after it was sucked through space to the black mass of darkness.

"Do it again," he almost commands the other deity, his whispering voice gliding past Shimael. "Why not destroy it all? Why not regress back to when there was Nothing? No Something means no strife, no problems. What say you?"

[Lumaes]

And so, the Lower Heavens were drowned, subsumed in the oceans of Shimael's distaste.
In the higher heavens the stars grief was diverted as beautiful hues of colour spread through their dazzling fires. The winked and flared with glee, twisting their chromatic coats this way and that to better display their new found uniqueness. With renewed passion they returned to their cosmic dance, embracing a pattern of partner swaps with unparalleled energy.

Below this extravagant dance the water roiled, muddy masses broke the surface of the water, bouyed to the surface by the smothered gases. In the centre of the ocean Garm's star burned, untouched by Bidross's gift it remained a pure, searing white.

[Whightwolf]

Typhon looked down at the new watery landscape of the lower heavens and the land that rose up from them. Though in part he was angered as it had been created by the death of stars and yet is sparked something deep within him, his desire to create within this new medium rose in his soul.

Gazing about himself across the heavens he felt his grief fade as Bidross adorned the stars with their own colours and shades, every one different yet all part of the same swirling pattern that Tserrth had set in motion. Even the monstrous Garm had done his part giving rise to the gasses which now supported the land and swept across the surface of the new base of creation. It gave a meaning to the light of the stars, something for them to illuminate. But the light did not change, it gave only one image.

Typhon looked up at the ever changing dance of the stars and for the second time in his new life was inspired. Soaring high and fast he flew to the great star, that which had been the heart of Sol. Grasping it he began to push, unlike Garm he felt no pain, he wonderful immersed in the flames feeling them lick and dance around him he smiled and began his work.

He pushed the great star into motion across the heavens, marvelling at each new sight and angle of shifting colour beneath the pure white light. Then though he grew curious, what would the world look like beneath only the light of the multitude of more distant, smaller stars, how would their cosmic dance not overshadowed by the great star play upon the new world?

So he sent the star in a great arc to the very edge of the furthest land, where it sank into the water. As it went into the water it was quenched. Typhon felt a great sorrow for what he had done, he had slain a star as casually and proudly as Shimael had only to sate his curiosity.

As he gazed upon the star lit world, illuminated with the swirling arcs and colours it was truly beautiful. Even this did not consol him though and he went down onto the land and sat and gazed up at the stars.

What the god did not know though was how great his last push had been. The great star had swung beneath the land, in the pockets of gas it passed, one titanic ember, rolling under the land through the gasses ironically of Garm’s making. As Typhon stared out across the heavens he saw something which dwarfed everything else.

It dwarfed the cosmic dance, it out shone the multitude of stars, it’s splendour, to Typhon, was the greatest thing he would see in his immortal life.

As at the opposite end of all land rising from the sea, Typhon saw the first dawn.

[Rhiya Ravenwing]

And Tserrth was there, drawing a deific finger across what was now known as the 'sky'.

Acknowledging respectively the creation of colour, Tserrth then took this, and upon a cosmic palette, Tserrth dipped the first Paintbrush into the colours of the stars. Red, orange, yellow, pale blue. All these Tserrth splashed onto the palette of Divinity. Then, with an eye that sees Ideas grow and take flight, Tserrth painted.

The first dawn was but a dark smudge at first - a fiery glow that set alight the sky. Yet as the light grew, so did the colours that rapidly began to fly. The sky became awash with colours - rich, golden red fading to pale yellow. The deep, void-filled space melting from its colourless darkness to a deep indigo, and then a light blue.

With rapid ease, as the fiery orb exposed its full splendor, Tserrth changed the colours, washing away the rich, warm glow slowly and bringing forth the pale gold-yellow and the pastel blue as the orb rose.

Tserrth had a Thought, and brought it forth. Using the tip of the paintbrush, Tserrth flicked water into the star, where it became vapour and hung in the air. As the first dawn continued, Tserrth splashed also streaks of gold and yellow upon these cloud-like vapours, and they hung there proudly, misty at the top, rosy down below.

Then they too were washed of colour - to become the pale, grey-white hue until the first evening.

"Clouds." ("Clouds.")

[Arhra]

"Do it again," were Garm's words to Shimael. "Why not destroy it all? Why not regress back to when there was Nothing? No Something means no strife, no problems. What say you?"

Shimael laughed, "If you truely believe that, why did you save a star?"

He looked upon what had been wrought and he saw a beauty he had not conceived. Things had gone awry and would continue to do so. Outcomes that had not been a part of his thought. But this did not displease Shimael. He did not want to be alone in an empty world composed only of reflections of himself.

The great flood had mingled together the broken orbs and the ashes of stars, great masses of land rising out of the endless sea. Another hand had given hue and shade to the world and Tserrth had added glory to the first sunrise as the sun emerged from it's journey beneath the sea.

The glory that his wiping away of the old had created seemed to have diverted the minds of Typhon and Garm. No longer they thought of monuments to death.

But, Shimael saw the wild torrents of the waves still battering and tossing the land and a thought came to him that he might steady the sea. Turning his mind, he dove into the waters. Shimael plunged into the deep, cool depths of the ocean and called the ghosts of the drowned stars to him.

They came, slow, murmuring and fearful. "The fate of destruction is the joy of rebirth." the god told them and the dead stars, puzzled, drew closer. Shimael merely smiled and without, a word, he rose again, a halation of curious, pale witch-lights following him like a spectral cloak. He rose above the sea and gathered the flickering wisps about him together into the great pale orb of the Moon. And then he whispered secrets to the reborn Moon and passed the tides into her sovereignity. With a gentle push, he set the Moon journeying through the heavens.

As she took her first uncertain steps, peering at the world below, she chose to slowly shift between cladding herself in a rainment of shadows and letting her light shine forth. Shimael withdrew and watched, admiring the Moon's silvery beauty.

[secretskull]

Bidross looked upon the works of the others and pondered. "The Stars in all their forms, shine, their colors giving them variety", he said, speaking for the first time, since his beginning. "But what do they shine upon? This cold sea and land? It is not the right thing for their light." Bidross's voice was clear, and slow, yet it somehow always seemed to be on the verge of becoming rushed and hurried. He began shaping the land, differentiating one piece of ground from the other.
He struck one piece of the land, raising jagged spikes from it, and below those spikes, fine grains of sand swirled endlessly. He dropped a larger shard in the sand, and watched it for a moment as it zigzagged between the spikes, always narrowly avoiding being smashed.
He raised another portion of the ground, but it was not spiked this time. He brought water to it, and it began to run off the cliff in a waterfall. Halfway down, he placed a stone in the middle, which split the water in two, creating myriad of colors at the split. The two waterfalls continued falling, striking other obstacles on their way down, covering the area in mist, before finally rejoining at the bottom, and gathering in a wide.
Lastly he raised on final piece of the land high into the sky where it almost touched the clouds. This peak was completely square, except for one wall, which sloped sharply toward the ground. The peak was mostly a dark red color, but was speckled with other colors.
From the peak's top, Bidross could view his work. At this moment all his work reached for the heights, but soon he would change this. Soon, the other gods would do so as well.

[Arhra]

Shimael looked down upon the great outcrops of earth drifting in the endless sea and a great discontent fell upon him. The Moon had tamed the tempest of the ocean, and other gods now shaped the earth and the sea but some unnameable desire gnawed at him. He swirled the thoughts of his inchoate shape and the action of doing so stirred an idea he had never considered before. Shimael could pass through even the obdurate rock as a ghost for he had no substance. He was a pattern of thoughts and desires, a spirit unclothed. The thought came upon him of a way he might better understand what the emerging world lacked.

And so Shimael garbed himself in physical form. Upon one of the masses of land, he wove the steady earth, flowing water, breath of wind and a spark of fire together into something unlike anything that had come before and placed his spirit within it. Opening crystalline eyes, he looked out from his new perspective. He could feel the swaying of the land, the sea still rocking them and drew one foot slowly along the ground, marveling at the rugged texture of the rock. Unsteadily at first, Shimael walked to a cliff edge and peered out. Eye drawn to where the sea pounded far below, the god decided to begin his exploration with the sea.

Gripping the shear face with claws of ice and bronze, Shimael carefully made his way down the cliff. For the first time, he felt the spray of the sea on him as he approached the bottom, and then finally he let himself drop the rest of the way. He felt the cool rush of the sea envelop him and lay still for a moment, relishing the new sensation of the water's touch at the body he had wrought. Finding the water much removed from the thin medium of air, Shimael beat his tail and began to swim.

[Rhiya Ravenwing]

Tserrth swept a critical, deific gaze across the vast expanse of World. Things were not yet complete. The World lacked... something. So sweeping across the World, leaving a swift wind in Tserrth's wake, Tserrth searched and found.

An idea sprang forth from Tserrth's dextrous paintbrush as the creator splashed forth more colour. Vibrant hues of red and orange glowed and spilt as Tserrth's brush stabbed downwards and rent great jagged cracks across the ground. Hurt, broken, the ground wept a dark, viscous fluid. Tserrth's brush fell down again, and now the fluid became the vivid red and orange of molten lava. Tserrth swept across the earth again, and found the spray of mist in the air from water falling from a great height. Tserrth splashed colour through this veil of water too, calling forth a mystical arc of colours.

Then Tserrth turned towards the great Ocean - the Sea of the World. With a mighty - yet intangible - fist, Tserrth brought the sky's blue hue pouring down through what looked like a spiralling funnel that ended at the water's surface. As the sun hit the great Ocean, it reflected back...

The water was that of a deep, mystical blue. Fathomless and beatiful. Light blue trickled from the brooks and streams and lakes that Bidross had created. Falling water revealled all the colours of the--

Something was still missing. Ah, that was it. The Colour of Life. Of Admirers that can fully appreciate this World that They have made. Tserrth's Thoughts longed for something other than Themselves to look upon the art they have made and admire it.

So Tserrth paused in painting, and held the brush poised, Thinking. A droplet of vibrant green gathered at the tip of the brush, before disconnecting and falling upon the earth, to splash actively upon the dull, brown ground.

And from that single droplet, Tserrth's Thoughts reoriented. Before the droplet of green could become stilled, Tserrth... shaped the splash, causing jagged spikes to rise upward and wave in the breeze Tserrth created.
From that, Tserrth borrowed the colours of the brown earth, mixed it with other hues, and made a trunk rise up. Green foliage sprouted from the jagged brown lines, taking shape as Tserrth brought it forth. Taller and taller it rose, until finally...

The Beginning Tree stood proudly over a field of grass waving in the air. Splashes of red, yellow, blue, purple, and even black landed and became flowers of a field bobbing in the breeze.

And so, Tserrth swept across the World again, bringing forth greens of all shades, vibrant colours of all hues. Even deep in the ocean, Tserrth did not miss a beat but brought forth different things to wave in the underwater breeze. Beautiful, exotic things that waved, strange things that stood proud and thin as a sheet of wind.

There was more though, and Tserrth knew it. Felt it, sensed it. There will be... things to admire Tserrth's work. Things other than Themselves. Tserrth will be satisfied.

[Benedict]

Garm, the black shadow beneath the oceans, looked upon the world above and felt annoyance at the fact that his own hand had had little to do with it. He reached out and touched the surface and wherever his tendrils moved a white sheet of ice formed. But he knew that it would not last, not with the sun's warming rays present. He needed something to counteract the great orb, like a balance of weights. And his focus turned to the Moon.

"Oh, saved it did I?" he inhaled, drawing currents into his black body.

As he ate the words, he reached out his tendrils high into the sky until they reached the silver Orb above. Surrounding the air around its surface they opened up, forming great tubes pointed down at the silver landscapes and then they burst forth ice streams of white gas, clouds and mists of enormous proportions raining down upon the Orb, dressing it in a white cloak.
And the gasses were cold, colder than ice, almost as cold as the very Void itself for these gasses could not be warmed easily, not even by a sun. Garm withdrew his arms and gazed upon his work; wherever it hovered, the Moon now brought forth cold winds and seas only for these to be warmed by the soothing touch of the Sun as it took the Moon's place.

[Lumaes]

The delicate moon was cold - so very cold. From her pale light the oceans began to freeze; the islands bordered with rime. To save herself from the ice which clung about her she gathered her shadowy garments, cacooning herself from the world in a veil of darkness. She grew warm, comforted by her shadows. After the cold this warmth held such joy that she cast of her cloth, bathing the world in her icy light as she sailed through the heavens, drawing the tides behind as dance partners. Free from her shadows the cold began to gnaw at her again and so she began the pattern anew.
Light to Dark, Cold to Warmth from now until her end.

The earth was wounded by the Herder of Stars, the congealed heart of the stars oozing from the injury. This hot blood was named 'magma'
A new beauty spread across the water-bound islands. From Tsserth these things came, magnificent in all their prettyness but hollow. There was no spark in these finely crafted fabrications.
They were colour and shape but little more.
Despite this, in the heavens above the stars grew jealous. Until this action they had been the most beautiful things in all creation, their dance and their coats alone to draw the appreciative eye. With a scream the most hotheaded of the motes tore itself from the firmament throwing its burning body towards the islands bellow, looking to consume and destroy those that would steal its glory. With a fearsome thud it impacted with the island, its body shattering away from a smouldering core, the scattered flames brought fire to the usurpers and they burned. Oh, how they burned.
Seeing the success of their sibling more stars tore themselves from the dance to hurtle down towards the islands below.

[Arhra]

Shimael hung suspended in the depths, slowly propelled by lazy swishes of his tail. Below there was the vastness of the ocean, fading by shades into the inky darkness of its bottomless depths. He spun onto his back with a kick and looked up at the shimmering surface of the sea.

Here and there were the shadows of the islands, pillars of blackness slanting down into the murky darkness. Supporting the rock from beneath there were the thrashing coils of the currents and smothered miasmas seeking a way to the surface.

Shimael swam further before something prompted him to seek land again. He crawled out of the cool embrace of the sea onto a rocky shelf and stood once more. He could feel the swaying of the land, held aloft by the unsteady grip of the forces beneath. One hand scraped through the sand that littered the shelf further in, each grain as perfect as a tiny jewel and yet Shimael still felt something lacking.

And then he saw Tserrth at work. The god wounded the earth, giving colours of yellow and crimson to the slumbering fires of the stars that had not been entirely washed away by the sea. A spray of mist splintered the sun's light into a riot of colour.

From a droplet of green, Tserrth wrought something that resounded with the lack Sihmael so keenly felt. Of pleasing hue and shape but these creations were empty, hollow. Lacking some intangible quality, they were echoes of something that had never been.

But the stars grew jealous of beauty not their own and hurled themselves down upon Tserrth's craftings. They burned. Shimael was vexated. There was something that eluded his grasp, some incompleteness. Shimael knew the land itself was unstable and how could anything complete be founded upon something that lacked it?

Shimael watched the world burn around him, untouched by the holocaust of flame even as tongues of fire licked him. He saw Garm tie the cold to the moon and then, between fire and ice, it came to him.

"I thank you, Hungry One, for you have shown how me how I might allow these incomplete existences to be complemented."

[secretskull]

Bidross raged. " I was the one who endowed you with your beauty and color. If find you unworthy of my gift, I shall take it away," he thundered, his form growing black.

A short silence followed his words,

"I find you unworthy."

Bidross extended a dark tendril from his form, and batted the falling stars away, back to their proper place.
He exerted his will, and the color was pulled from the stars.
In comparison to the bright lights of Sol and Moon, and to their former glory, the stars were pale shells of their past.

He took the colors of the stars, and made them solid, each one slightly transparent, and roughly spherical. He took these orbs, and set them in motion, making them circle around the land.

A star, it's anger burning even hotter because of its loss, flung itself furiously toward the land. Bidross willed it, and an orb stopped its rotation, and rose to block the stars decent. The orb and the star were locked together, each one pushing against the other, neither losing nor gaining ground.

Bidross turned to other matters. He took the remainder of the stars colors, and placed them on his peak., each of it's four sides with a different color. One purple, one green, one orange, and the last one, the one that sloped downward, he gave the colors of the rest, to make it a shimmering black. The peaks original colors were all but gone from it.

[Lumaes]

If before the stars were irked now they seethed.
Those who had held no strong hate of the new beauty in their hearts, those who had been content in their whirling beautiful dances had their glorious coats stolen away just as the worst amongst them. It was that terrible slight which now united the stars in shared rage.
In this tempest of anger their individuality was swallowed, in that moment of selflessless they lost themselves in eachothers heat - one body swallowing up the next until the whole of heaven was flame. This new being, alike to Sol but wholly different, swept down apon the land and endless see, the fiery blanket it formed sweeping over the chromatic orbs that stood in its way.
The flames first target was the new home of stolen beauty. From the seething bulk a spout of irascible flame ploughed into the adorned mountain, earth turning to slag beneath its touch, the fire awakened the slumbering heart of the island - the magma tearing through the earth with a riotous explosion.