GodNES - The Beast with a Thousand Backs

[KaiserElectric]

The Gods are already fighting. Soon the mortals will do the same. Zaepheta may be lord of death, but it is I who will deliver it.

Dear Primanus will sow life on the world. Soon s/he will see his creations slaughter one another by the million because of me.

Wise Gnotia will bring wisdom and knowledge to light the way. Soon he will see his gifts purged by fire and sword because of me.

Mighty Artharax will deliver order and law to hold back the chaos. Soon his rules will be perverted and lend itself to the endless carnage because of me.

The world... the world will burn, and death will reign supreme, all because of me.

...

I'm so sorry...

 

[Patchy]

Angst you alive man?

 

[KaiserElectric]

Didn't he say he was busy?

 

[Angst]

And again I forgot to post in the thread. I chatted on #nes about this yesterday for a few minutes, but only to Terrance and Iggy. Sorry.

The update will be up today, 100% surely.

 

[Angst]

Update underway. There's a secret half-spoiler present somewhere in the thread. Won't say where. I do that sometimes.

 

[Angst]

Update 2
Cosmic Clock

It was the First Age. And of its Second Æon, the Oracle chronicles:

It was silent nonhours as the noisy flesh of the Old One began to croak a melancholic song. It was the Beginning of Time as Ceradus coiled his great peak. With it, a plethora of non-clocks were swept away into the silent Void and time ticked, granting momentum to being as moving forward.

The First Sun was finally born to have done its undeed of the First Æon; cast from the Afaja's Dead Right Eye, Solonos brought the Dead Left to the Heavens and burned a ball of fire to light up the world. Solonos was one with the ball, bound to cast fire onto the world. And he the wild stallion became shackled with it, the First Sun, and its scorch, a flaming peril, too hot for any life to live on, a molten wasteland to forever burn. Time clocked in.

And the brooding depths and loose nonearth was without order or function. A hammer shook the crumbling Void, as Artharax bellowed for order. Artharax, Solonos and Ceradus now faced each other and the Primordials. This was the start of the Rule of Being; that some things were orderly, some things were beyond to happen, some things could be outside the gods' control, perchance Afaja's, if he was ever living.

And of the Primodials, the Oracle chronicles: Tsamnir and Primanus saw the good of balance in ther meet. Near the law of balance, life prospered. It would symbiose and coexist in interdependence, often with a morbid sustenance on itself as fodder. Some funghal fields retracted for the benefit of colorful, alien things: They sprouted into plant, and off them fed strange, slimey worms, erupted from the bottoms of the funghi. All in interdependence. But in the realms far from it, life collapsed upon itself. The raging fungus trees grew bigger and consumed all plant life that would come there, with an acid-like venom.

Indeed, some things had not come gently with the Beginning of Time. The Scales of Balance had been tipped just before it happened; so with the newfound force of gravity, they smashed and bent. Tsamnir took them away from his plains and brought them away. He raised a great mountain and took them inside; in the ground they would remain, forever trying to have virtue and vice coexist and preserve. Between the Mountain of Earth and his meadow, he carved a deep chasm that mortals would hopefully never cross.

The Curator watched the incoming Tide of Time in fear. Before it arrived to his realm, he made it so that the Afajan Spine would never be halted by the change of time. Inside it, nothing would age, nothing change, nothing give birth. And he erected the Museum. It was impervious to the Tide, a timeless palace with old memories to be stored forever. Little did he know that two books had been stolen by Thwapp: The Book of The Dead Names, and The Book of The Force.

Thwapp had taken the books, and they were placed places he chose to forget himself. Angered, The Curator disallowed him to ever enter the Museum again. Secrets that should not have been passed now were.

Borog first waited. His being was terrified of the revolution. Afaja's death caused him toil and tiring; much more sorrow and frustration. When visited by his brother Thwapp, he would hurt him. And then Borog moved.

He seeded the Earth. Primanus would have rejoiced if they were fruitful sprouts, but they were beckoning tendrils that dug deep into the bowels of Afaja's corpse. The caverns would be the Night Roots and perforate all, granting him place to hide. Tunnels dug him his home, and then he struck gold, a wetness. He shaped a mile of the Abyss into a chunk of ur-sea known as the Font. From here, a channel of mist poured towards the surface and Artharax' chants of Law made it heavy. Rain came for the first time, and against the bright sun in the sky, a rainbow appeared. Borog never saw this from his bedrock.

Thwapp had helped Borog with the tunnels, but betrayed him, digging few holes that would cast sunlight deep below. He also seeded them with turmoil, cursing the unlucky entrant that would explore. Later, he regretted, and tried boarding up the lights, but a few remain across the world, showing the above world that something lies beneath.

It was Pantheon: The Primordials Five of the Curator, Primanus, Thwapp, Tsamnir and Borog, and the Children of the Second Æon, Ceradus, Solonos and Artharax.

The next Æon would see the next generation of Gods. They were: Kylmyys, Merphous, Madris and Jarquin.

Such chronicles the Oracle.

​

I hope I didn't miss anything. Tell me if I screwed up.

Stats are updated. Orders (and god submission) deadline is Sunday 8 PM gmt +1.

EDIT: Lol I accidentally made Thwapp's tunnels happen from Tsamnir's plains. Hm. Might retcon that a little bit. But tomorrow if so (And otherwise, I'll just add them in next update.)

 

[Arrow Gamer]

Woohoo! I got into the game.

Story at some point tonight, probably.

 

[merciary]

Hooray I'm in now lets see how much more madness I can make in this already mad world.

 

[thomas.berubeg]

Quiver of a mind/
------------- /Shadow of a thought
-----discon/ected
-----------/Emotion
Joy/
--- /A god lives

lives only in the minds/
--------------------- /of the faithful
------------------------------ /none exist
------------------------------------------/as of yet
--------------------------------------------- /Lust as the basest
----------------------------------------------------------------- /Born of death
Born IN death
--------------------/A mind with/out/ thought
--------------------------------------------raw emotion
no conscience to create complexity

 

[ChineseWarlord]

Dang, I got bumped back farther. Oh well, this is still pretty cool.

 

[thomas.berubeg]

there is something in the water
a burning
Thwapp and Primanus
unwittingly
united
to create new
From Primanus comes the life
From Thwapp comes the unexpected
From the dregs of both comes the divine
a madness, a joy for life, for living
unknown to the world
unknown even to the all seeing
unknown to the allknowing

 

[Nivyi]

A world with only life
Needed a balance between the forces
All light needs an end
Things don't live forever
A new god was being created,
Zaephta, god of death
the second force of life.

 

[Arrow Gamer]

Freedom

It had never felt so alive. Had it ever felt alive? It didn't know. The tiger bounded across the plain, its long white tail ruffled in the wind. The possibilities were endless, branching into the infinite void.

And yet, who would act on them? The gods? He had little control over that pack of mewling children. The lifeforms? Little more than amorphous blobs.

No. There were no agents of change but him and those few gods who he could recruit. He would bring about his own reality.

Quickly, he searched the threads, and saw the first step was the creation of the Weavers.

And so it began.

Actions

Create a group of demigods, preferably humanoid in shape but NOT humans with limited time manipulation ability. They will be used to aid my efforts in determining the best future to pursue. They are to be titled "the Weavers."

 

[Lord_Iggy]

OOC: That's a cool idea Arrow, but isn't that lifted from Miéville? It might be better if you change the name, so you can make it your own.

 

[Lord_Iggy]

I remember well the age before the Age of Time, though its structure is now alien to me. It was the eon before the birth of Ceradus, and the dawn of causality. It was a different age, when thoughts and beings mixed more freely, and when results and actions flowed together like miscible fluid. It was a time that shall not be repeated until Ceradus returns to the Void from whence he came.

I recognize well the irony of describing the time before time using temporal metaphors, but I find it to be a necessity. The beginning of the Age of Ceradus affected each of the primordials, rendering that which came before alien to each of us. The first day exists now only as a surreal half-dream, patched together by minds to whom its nature is now strange and foreign. Outside of the realm of Curator, there are no mouths which could adequately describe it, and no ears which could comprehend such a description.

I do not recall the precise moment that it began. The realization came to me slowly. I was deep beneath the surface when it happened. Preoccupied with my tunneling, I began to sense something amiss. I noticed, for the first time, a repetitive pattern to my actions. The idea of repetition itself was bizarre to me, and gave me pause. As my work resumed, my unease grew ever greater. Things were not as they should have been. I had to begin the creation of a tunnel before I completed it. The waters of the Abyssal Font flowed outwards, for the first time with meaningful direction.

I thought of all that I knew, all that had happened... before. With horror, I felt what I now understood to be the past, sinking ever further away from me. Already had the unity of existence been broken with the murder of Afaja. Now, my own heritage, my connection to my father, was being ripped away from me, slowly and inexorably. It was drifting out of my reach, fading as it sank away from the present, the rolling cage in which I was now trapped. Worse still, as I searched through the moments of the first day, which were now confined to my memories, everything that had happened was now melted together in a chaotic jumble- consequences without actions, existence without context. I was powerless to halt the expansion of the growing rift between myself, and all that was holy to me.

I screamed and bellowed, expanding myself into a great and terrible mass spanning the furthest reaches of my realm. It was a futile display, and time did not release its hold on me. I roiled and thrashed against these causal bonds. Yet beneath my rage lay a profound terror. Something, somehow, had imposed this upon the universe. I was mercifully aware of what had changed, but what if that had not been the case? What if some power possessed the ability to reshape existence, without attracting the slightest attention? The implications filled me with horror.

My wrath was soon exhausted, replaced by a trepidatious fear. I needed to understand what had happened. I set out immediately to the halls of my brother, Curator. The journey was long, as time granted meaning to the great distances that separated us.

As I entered the Museum, I at once felt the flow of time leave me, as if I had shut a door on a gusty day. Within this space, my jumbled recollections of the time before time made sense once more. I rejoiced, yet also felt sadness and betrayal. Curator had known of the coming of time. His preparations had been thorough. Yet never had he spoken of this to me.

I was prepared to berate him for hiding this from me, but something gave me pause. Something was amiss. I paused, and felt that something was broken in my brother, something had formed a crack in his stoic armour. I reached out, and felt the heart of Curator. It was heavy, and burdened by a profound sense of sadness and loss. I recognized it well, for my heart too bore the weight of such emotions. I had lost everything with the demise of the primal darkness, save for my own, long-prepared refuge. My elder brother was now no different. All that he sought to preserve was now doomed to fade, fated to sink into the foreign realm of the past. I wept for my brother's loss, sharing in his grief and offering my sympathies.

The moment passed, and though time in the Museum is without meaning, it felt as if it endured for many days. I returned to the initial purpose of my journey, and implored him for answers. Between the shared moods of our minds, understanding flowed freely. I beheld, for the first time, the being Ceradus, and the scope of his creation. I understood the Museum, a small shelter from the God of Time. Strongly did I wish to stay here, in Curator's temporal fortress, and live out my life in a realm where my past would never leave me. My brother felt this desire, and I felt his thoughts within me once more. I understood now that I could not remain. I could not abdicate my role, abandon the darkness to the depredations of the light. I could not abandon the outside world, and let the shadowy essence of the all-father fade. I had to return.

Time would pass. This was to be my new reality. I would adapt, as would the others. Time presented a great and terrible challenge, but it also presented opportunity. In a temporal world, victories with meaning could be won, enemies could be consigned to the past, and thereby banished from existence- an impossible feat in a world not bound to the arrow of causality.

As for my past... for this, I would mourn. Outside of the Museum, my earliest memories would be in a state of incomprehensible disarray. Every instant, we grew still more distant from Afaja. But I would remember what once was, what had been. I would gather my memories into a format that was comprehensible to my new state of being, and carve them into a Black Book, so that they would be forever preserved. I would uphold my father's legacy. I would avenge his murder, and restore the primal darkness to its rightful place.

My mental embrace with Curator came to an end. I thanked him, and bid him farewell. My thoughts then turned from my elder brother to my younger, Thwapp. Concern wrenched at me as I considered the coming of the sun, and the coming of time. What terrible loss might beset the third Scion of Afaja? I spun about, prepared to question Curator further, but he was gone, and I was returned to the outside world. The winds of time beset me once more.

 

[Jehoshua]

It fed eternally from the cosmic essence of the void, formless and ever-changing, dreaming silent dreams in the emptiness beyond the confines of the world.

It grew fat upon the universes decree that creation be governed, and engorged itself on the dreams for power, and the joys of victoriously obtained dominion flowing from the gods. It listened to darkness rage and time rejoice, united in their will that existence be subjected to their names. It listened too to the echoes of existence of the timeless time when all was one and bound to the will of Afaja, and to the lamentations of the world in the wake of the sundering of existence into life and death, light and darkness, past and present at his passing, feeding on their subjugation and remembrance both.

Thus it fed as it dreamed of the day it would awake into the world, growing ever greater, its mind coalescing in the formless emptiness, as the world entered into the passage of time in the absence of a master.

 

[Angst]

Freedom

It had never felt so alive. Had it ever felt alive? It didn't know. The tiger bounded across the plain, its long white tail ruffled in the wind. The possibilities were endless, branching into the infinite void.

And yet, who would act on them? The gods? He had little control over that pack of mewling children. The lifeforms? Little more than amorphous blobs.

No. There were no agents of change but him and those few gods who he could recruit. He would bring about his own reality.

Quickly, he searched the threads, and saw the first step was the creation of the Weavers.

And so it began.

Actions

Create a group of demigods, preferably humanoid in shape but NOT humans with limited time manipulation ability. They will be used to aid my efforts in determining the best future to pursue. They are to be titled "the Weavers."

Not that I dislike your contribution, but you have to change that submission format to something more organised.

 

[Arrow Gamer]

@Iggy: Afraid I don't know who Miéville is.

@Angst: Wasn't really a submission format, seeing as I'm in the game. Was a (short) story plus my orders.

 

[Angst]

@Iggy: Afraid I don't know who Miéville is.

@Angst: Wasn't really a submission format, seeing as I'm in the game. Was a (short) story plus my orders.

I understand from this you haven't paid much attention to the thread.

I don't blame you that much.

First off, if they were orders, I explicitly highlighted the format in Post #1.

But, secondly, they aren't orders. When allowed through the queue, you have to resubmit your god.

I refer you to this post:

http://forums.civfanatics.com/showpost.php?p=12786327&postcount=222

<3

 

[Grandkhan]

[QUOTE="The Tome of Laws]
Verse 6

And Artharax looked upon the universe, and saw the Primeval Chaos bending to the Will to Order, and he saw that it was good. But far from his Seat, he saw that where there was Life there was Chaos, and the eternal struggle between the fungus and the worms and the fungus trees that did grow there.

And Artharax was enraged, for this struggle was Unordered. And he flew into a great rage, and the red lightning of his Form smote much Chaos around him, and the Chaos drew back in fear of his Might and his Will. And Artharax said, "All shall be Ordered and follow my Laws!" and he moved his Form unto the Fungal Fields where Life did reside.

And Artharax appeared before Primanus in his full glory, and said unto hir, "Here I am, in all my Might and my Will. Bend before the Will, and banish the Chaos that is Life from the universe."

But Primanus mocked Artharax, and did curse him, and did not acquiesce to the Will. And Artharax was enraged, and cursed Primanus for a servant of Chaos, and fled in a great rage.

And Artharax said, "Life is naught but Chaos, a constant struggle in the face of my Might and Will, for it changes without pattern and without Order. Such travesties cannot stand, for all shall be Ordered by my Will."

And Artharax took some Chaos, and said unto himself, "Life lacks Order, and is Chaotic. It must follow the Laws, such that it may be bent and be still." And by his will he did force some Chaos to assemble, and he said unto it, "Now you shall be Ordered."

And he said unto the Chaos, "You shall be Ordered, and with this Order you shall form my Weapon against the Chaos that is life. You shall infect the beings that form Life, and corrupt them until they sicken and die, becoming still and thus Ordered. And you shall force the corrupted to create more of your infection, and thus shall Life be destroyed. And ye shall be known as the Blight of Order, my weapon against the Chaos of the Other Gods!"

But the Chaos resisted, and cried "We shall not bend to your Will!" But Artharax smote it with red lightning, and they did accept his Will and became the Blight. And Artharax released the Blight among the Fields unto Life, and saw that it was good.
[/QUOTE]

Actions
1PP: Artharax shall create the Blight of Order, a virus made from raw Primeval muck that he has bent to his Will. The Blight shall be released on the fungus in an attempt to kill the chaos and disorganisation of Life. The Blight infects organisms, using their inner workings to create more copies of itself, before killing the organism and releasing its copies onto other instances of Life, thus spreading the Blight.

Artharax will take residence the lands despoiled by the Blight, calling them the Lawful Lands and making them his Realm.

OOC: Because who said order is nice? Sorry to use your character Milarqui, hope thats okay. I didn't really want to have Artharax getting in a fight with Life itself because that would just be silly.