I love mythology. Norse, Vedic, Egyptian, Greek, Chinese... And thus, I am going to pinch and steal from everybody and make somewhat original stories. And where else to start but at the beginning?
The Great Croak (note: this story is not in continuity with the following ones. It is a one-off tale)
In the beginning, there was nothing. The nothingness was pure chaos. A river, a sea, a pond. From the nothingness sprang a cosmic egg. From the egg hatched a creature very much like a tadpole. The tadpole swam in the chaos, doing what tadpoles do. In time, the tadpole grew legs and its tail faded. And the frog swam on, doing as frogs do. Swimming and snatching at small pieces of matter with its tongue. But a frog cannot swim forever. The frog began to drown. On it's last legs and last breath, it let out a small, quiet death-cry: "ribbit". It sunk in the nothingness. And then it came up again, for the universe it just created floated up and gave the frog something to perch. The frog was pleased with both his creation and his newfound voice, and so began to sing. With the song the universe grew larger and larger, expanding with each note whilst the frog stayed the same. Galaxies swirled into existence. Nebulas formed. Stars burst into life. Planets were molded. Moons and satellites splintered. The earth was shaped, lit ablaze, watered, treed, and peopled. And the universe grew ever-larger. Finally, the song stopped. The universe was the right size for the frog's whim. The Frog at this point in time was the same size as that of a regular frog. And so, the demiurge, the singer of existence, the Genesis Amphibian, the creator of all that is leaped into a nearby pond and lives there to this day, hopping from rock-to-rock and eating flies. THE END
The following stories are going to be a continuation on each other, taking place in the same universe.
Come, my children. Come and I will tell you a story. A story so big, so large, so all-encompassing, that you and I are characters within. Are you sitting comfortably? Good, then let us begin... In the beginning there was nothingness, and a god with no name. This god was chaos and order, light and darkness, creation and destruction. The deity with no name was also pure goodness, and created the universe perfectly, with no flaw in form or function. The Deity then created servants to advise him on the creation of races. The Deity's servants, having no achievements of their own as everything was already created, become jealous of their creator and sought to break free of his influence. They stole his power and shared it amongst themselves, becoming the Demiurges, and continued to build upon creation according to their whims. At first the Deity did not mind as the works were wondrous and the races prospered. The Demiurges created the elementals to maintain the world, the gods to represent object, location, and concepts, and man to build upon what was already there. But war came, and famine, and pestilence, and all other terrible things. Thus the Deity did know that the Demiurges were toying with their new responsibilities. They cared little for their subjects and the consequences of their actions, seeing their works as little more than a game. Allying himself with the alliance of man, god, and elemental, the Deity struck back at the Demiurges, managing to steal back a portion of his former power. The Deity transformed himself into a crystal dragon of infinite length, and used himself as needle and thread to ensnare and stitch together the Demiurges, in a place beyond space and time. The Deity had become the prison, the lock, the key, and the warden of his wayward children. The Deity had become the Savior. But the Demiurges would not fall without wounding their enemy mortally. As they were dragged from their thrones they shattered and ruined much of the earth in rampages, cursed the gods, and mortally wounded the great elemental creature-kings. To this day they writhe in their prisons made from themselves, wallowing in their own bitterness, making bitter mockeries of their own creations, and sending said mockeries through the prison into the earth to serve their ends. A desperate plan was hatched by five minor godlings to save the creature-kings. They wounded themselves also, and sought to sacrifice their life magics to the elemental lords, hoping that their blood was what was needed for the creature-kings to survive. They were right beyond their wildest dreams. The two sets of beings merged together, creating something that was part god and part elemental, but also far more. They attained power that rivaled that of the greatest of gods. They learned wisdom unsurpassed. And most wondrous of all, they attained enlightenment, learning of their place in the universe as well as that of all things. Thus was the elemental Beasts born, and all of creation did sing praises of their arrival, and did not understand why. For where the gods would rule as kings and emperors, the Beasts would teach as sages and guides. And for a time, all was well. Until...Oh wait. That's an episode for another time. Good night, children.
Trying to think of ways to make it less Exalted-like and failing miserably.
edited 23rd Oct '11 8:24:36 AM by Kraken
The first word of the universe is ribbit? How unusual I like the idea of singing to change reality. Also, is the frog gonna be immortal? Are frogs worshipped as gods? I'm reading the two stories as in the same continuity, like the frog in the first one is the "Deity" in the second one . That's how it's supposed to be, right?
edited 24th Jun '11 10:40:16 AM by melloncollie
Thanks. Yes, the frog is immortal. This story is actually the basis of a religion that teaches reverence to all things, as everything could be a god or a demiurge in disguise. And I should have made it a little clearer, but the first story and the second are not in continuity, as a light-hearted tale of a frog ribbiting the universe into creation doesn't quite fit into a world of tragic tales, epic deeds, and flawed gods and heroes. The next few segments all take place in the same universe.
Fuzzy Orange DoomsayerYou're writing this and the superhero series at the same time?
That's Feo . . . He's a disgusting, mysoginistic, paedophilic asshat who moonlights as a shitty writer—Something Awful
I do a lot of things at the same time. Truth is, I'm still fleshing out both projects. When the kinks are ironed out the actual writing will start.
edited 24th Jun '11 9:48:14 PM by Kraken
Lady Sun, Whore Moon Good evening, my people of the hours, followers of the lady-goddess Arcyana. Good evening, followers of her esteemed and exalted family. Good evening, boys-who-will-be-men, maidens-that-will-be-women. Good evening, all assembled here. We are gathered here on this road to pass on the knowledge and the wisdom to our sons and daughters. For this is the Rite of Dawning Youth, and in the times to come you children shall travel much, see much, learn much, and do much. But that shall come in its proper time. I speak now of our lady, her gifts, and her burdens. Our tale begins not in the morning, but in the night. For every sunset Lady Arcyana, goddess of the sun and moon, She-Of-Two-Faces, steps off her skyship on to the Night Harbour, snuffs her sun-face, lights her moon-face, and steps on her serpent-barque. From there she sails to the Dock of the Day, across the sky. Her robes are liquid silver, her hair is as black as obsidian, and her bright eyes are lazy. From her sighs of boredom comes a mist of light, which rises to the north, which we name borealis. As she travels, she becomes so very bored, and passes the time in whatever whim she pleases. Some hours she hunts, shooting down the sky-crows of Criera, which only serves to anger the rage-goddess. Some hours she dives off the deck into the homes of men, filching trinkets and treasures, baubles and novelties, like a magpie. Some hours she re-arranges the stars, writing insulting messages to her family. Some hours she eavesdrops, and spends much time snickering to herself at jokes and japes not meant for her. And some hours she visits the bedrooms of handsome young men, making love to them, bringing either pleasure or terror to their dreams. When she reaches the Dock of the Day, she gives birth to a thousand children at once in a flash of fire and light, which snuffs her moon-face, ignites her sun-face, and burns all that she has stolen. A thousand albatrosses carry these infants to their fathers. Exhausted, the goddess nonetheless girds herself for battle. Upon her head she places a golden crown, reflecting the light into every direction. Upon her breast she places armor, polished bronze like that of a mirror. By her side she sheathes a short sword which is an unquenchable flame, a gift from her lover, Suzayor the Firebird. Upon her back she slings a quiver of arrows, the burning rays. In her four arms she carries two bows, crafted from the crimson tusks of Ysorn, the Elephant-That-Tramples-All-Things. Thus prepared, she sets foot upon her sky-ship of burning flame, and rides off into battle, her pilot the half-goddess of no legs, Childless Irosta. Some of her foes are servants of those she offended the previous night. Some are brainless heroes who wish to challenge her supremacy. Some are those who wish compensation, a pound of the goddess' flesh. And some are her own children, who have grown without a mother's care and have grown strong, bitter, and angry. Arcyana raises her bow, brings the string to her cheek, and looses her arrows. Each pierces the heart of her targets perfectly, and they fall to the ground, burning into nothingness. Each time she kills her children, she weeps, for her light aspect cares for many things. Her tears bring us rain, and her sorrow brings us growth. For this was her curse, for betraying the Demiurges. To be cruel and do callous things in the night, and pay for it all in the day, every single day. Glory is hers, as is ruin. We sing paens of her deeds and dirges of her transgressions. Above all, we give her pity. So know this, children. Gods have two faces, as do all men. Be wary and pay heed to them both.
edited 15th Jul '11 6:15:42 AM by Kraken
Does Lady Arcyana visit the women too?
Probably. No reason why she shouldn't. For this one I drew inspiration from the many offspring of Zeus, and thought "What would abandoned demigods do if they didn't have anyone around to guide them in divine ways?"
Go crazy and partay, of course.
Diaspora Bereft of the Demiurges, man began to turn to the gods to guidance. Although the Demiurges were tyrannical, cruel, and vindictive masters, they had always made their intentions known and seemed to possess some manner of a grand plan. In hindsight, the rebellion did not seem like a bright idea now that the deed was done. Priesthoods were given, temples were raised, pilgrims traveled, and followings gathered around the new religions. The prayers of mortals fed the gods, and the gods did find themselves increasing in power, majesty, and pride. Some men attempted to proclaim themselves as gods, using trickery, illusion, or simple competence in battle or counsel. Humanity splintered, warlords and chieftains arose, and nations shattered into warring states and raised swords against each other. "The men look up to us." the gods said. "They are without knowledge, without wisdom, without power. We must rule over them, to prevent them from harming themselves." "What you say is true." said the Beasts. "They certainly lack in knowledge, wisdom, and power. But that can change, must change, and will change." "And who will teach them?" asked the gods. "We will. With discipline of the body and martial arts we shall show men the path to enlightenment. With sorcery we shall show men the path to mystical power. And with cantrips and charms we give them protection." replied the Beasts. "Then we shall do the same." answered the gods. "But in our own way. All that serve us shall have a spark of our magic. All who pray to us will take our likeness, as a marking. And all who sacrifice to us shall be blessed." "I am the sun and the moon." proclaimed Lady Arcyana. "I am victory and war and valor. Those who serve me shall be strong in arm and mind as the dawn. Those who pray to me shall blaze like the noon. And those who sacrifice to me shall know the peace that night brings." "I am the ever-changing sky." sobbed Criea. "I am rage and pain and suffering. Those who serve me will draw strength from the pain they feel. Those who pray to me shall have skin forever inked and illustrated and have the skies itself as clothing. And those who sacrifice to me will crusade against the suffering of the weak." "I am the breath of the grave." whispered Srayang. "I am theft and cessation and endings. Those who serve me may hide themselves in shadow, stealing trinkets as easily as I steal lives. Those who pray to me shall have sharp of bone, white of skin, and cold of eye. And those who sacrifice to me will have the wisdom to weigh the worth of one heist against another." "I am the lord of creatures." chittered Ozchdai. "I am the hawk and the tiger and the grasshopper. Those who serve me may merge the human form with that of a beast. Those who pray to me may take the forms of animals within themselves. And those who sacrifice to me may understand and speak the claw-tongue." "I am the river of life." rendered Aspina. "I am healing and mercy and mendings. Those who serve me may break or heal with a touch if they have the knowledge. Those who pray to me will have wings of light and film. And those who sacrifice to me may have their blood become balm." "I am the arranger of stars." drawled Felinai. "I am fortune and calamity and trial. Those who serve me may take the luck of others. Those who pray to me shall be as a thousand thousand sparks. And those who sacrifice to me shall have the vision to not simply plunder fortune, but to appraise, explore, charter, and quarter-master these stores carefully." "And we shall take the rest." spoke the Beasts. "But not yet. Philosophies and logic systems are not borne in a day, nor a night, nor a year. For this time you may ascend yourselves higher than all others and make all men worship you. But in our own time, after we have meditated and practiced and devised and formulated, we shall return, and we shall take from your acolytes and make them into our disciples." Thus did the gods take mankind, divide it in six parts, and raise nations in their own image.
edited 12th Oct '11 5:36:48 PM by Kraken
Demoniac Mechanics For many years, the gods ruled as the sole masters of the world, building cities and towns in their own respective goddoms. The gods instructed the priests, the priests instructed the rulers, the rulers instructed the administrators, the administrators instructed the people. And while many works of wonder were created and civil advancement was at its accelerating peak, man felt a void that could not be filled. The gods instructed them on how to build, how to work, how to fight, and how to rest. But they did not teach them how to live. They felt that there was right and wrong in the world, but they had no definitive authority, which they craved. Until the beasts returned, each in their own time, each in their own way, each bearing their own message. Xelai the Feathered Serpent (Lady of Time and Air) lectured on the importance of saving time, understanding the significance of each moment, and choosing the right action for the right time. In her citadel above the clouds as well as across the globe she formed vast universities and schools dedicated to academic research of both mundane works and sorcery. Pasaitrov the Drill Mole (Sage of Secrets and Earth) taught on the importance of tradition, unearthing of lost knowledge, remembering those who did good and forgiving those who did wrong, enduring life's woes, and the importance of building a stable existence through cunning investment and thrifty spending. In his caverns beneath the earth, Pasaitrof unearths the lost lore of the Demiurges, as well as trading works of art and culture for magical artifacts or knowledge. Suzayor the Firebird, (Prince of Flame and Passion) walked the earth, preaching a message of blazing passion calmly restrained and harnessed, of purity of mind and spirit, of undefeated faith and strength found in purpose. He founded soldier brotherhoods and martial arts schools, and taught feats of arms as well as codes of honor to servicemen. His many volcano temples (which he visits only occasionally) are places of wild music, furious sparring, and intense training. Gencai the Great Turtle (Mother of Protection and Water) sat beneath the waves, sending forth crones and shamans that man might learn of fluidity in action, the importance of keeping mercurial minds, the principles of action and reaction, and the means of wearing thin every possibility. Her instructors taught mothers cantrips to whisper over cradles, mantras for monks to chant, wards for guardians to draw, and totems for healers to carve. Sadtesai Diles the White Tiger (Savant of Wood and Growth) spread legends of all-knowing gurus which he would masquerade as, teaching such things as living life to its fullest, sowing the seeds of righteousness, pruning one's growth in maturity, and uplifting all that one can. He taught alchemists how to change several things into one potent substance, herbalists how to heal, poison, curse, or kill with common and exotic plants, and the principles of geomancy. All this they taught and gifted, and much more. And all they asked was one thing: that their adherents would scatter and move to other kingdoms and start missions, sowing seeds of diversity and difference. But even the enlightened beasts who counted on man's ingenuity and innovative prowess did not expect the rate of acceleration of advancement and what happened next. Combining nearly every principle that the beasts taught with the raw power of the gods together into a single rite, mankind learned to make pin-pricks in the Deity's prison and draw out one of the cursed races, either binding the creatures (which they named demons) to their bidding, or imprison them once again in weapons or tools. The practice of demon summoning and/or binding soon became common, useful, simple, and cheap, changing the face of industry and trade practically overnight. If man had its way, every single object would be demon-bound, and such a thing would indeed be reality had their magics always hold. This new development threw the gods and beasts into and even wider schism, within the two factions themselves. Some gods looked favorably on demon-binding, seeing it proper that the servants of their former enemies be their slaves. Some beasts liked the practice also, but for the practicality. Some beasts opposed the summoning of demons, for they had spent time with the creatures and found them to be pitiful slaves who had simply changed masters, while other gods foresaw a great disaster. The great disaster did indeed happen, as over-night thousands of bound demons broke free of their bonds through technicalities in the magic and set free their weapon-locked brethren. The demiurges would have been loosed upon the world if not for the unending efforts of the gods' and beasts' human diplomats and peacemakers, brokering peace, founding partnerships, and forming alliances with each other, which allowed the tide to be turned. The histories remembered this as the First Demon War, and many seeds of man's future suffering were sown like thorns. Shortly after that, it was proclaimed forbidden that demons be summoned and bound, although the practice still continues to this day in secret.
edited 9th Jul '11 7:50:36 PM by Kraken
With supernatural martial arts shall show men the path to enlightenment.This sentence made me giggle a little bit, probably because "supernatural martial arts" is an inherently funny phrase. "Discipline of the body" or something similar would have a more solemn tone. I like the parts where the gods divided up the mortals, although I disliked how Criea and Srayang come off as Obviously Evil. "Oh hey, let's make our followers suffer/be dicks to everyone." Can't they have some positive traits? You seem to have two entities with very similar names (Felinai and Feilinai). In general: I do like it, 'twould be nice to have a small-scale story so we could see the details and diversity of the setting.
edited 5th Jul '11 2:56:41 PM by melloncollie
I didn't really try to make Criea or Srayang evil. They're dark, destructive, and ultimately a real bitch to hang around with, but they ultimately serve good and necessary ends. I wanted to make Criea a broken goddess who still possesses strength of will, a compassionate crusader of the downtrodden. Sryang was supposed to be sort of like a psychopomp god, who makes sure people die by taking their life when they suffer mortal injury or undergo sickness, a necessity in the universe. It's just that he looks at it as a sort of duty mixed with a game. Also thanks for pointing out the similarity of the names. I should have thought of it a little better, but I made those names up as I typed.
edited 5th Jul '11 3:57:55 PM by Kraken
Ah, ok. Makes sense. I do wish those parts about strength-of-will and necessity of death made it in the story draft, because it's not apparent from what's written right now that these gods have positive traits and serve a necessary purpose. Oh, hang on:
Those who serve me will draw strength from agony.I interpreted this as meaning that they're sadists or masochists. Your explanation looks a lot more positive. Ok, so I misread Criea's stuff. But Srayang still looks like the kind of god that only dicks would want to worship, if his perk is being really good at stealing stuff. Or maybe I'm just looking at this thing like it's a big RPG.
edited 5th Jul '11 5:21:11 PM by melloncollie
Edited once again for clarity. And yeah, Srayang's got good points but the toys he gives are only ever useful for detectives, thieves, and archaeologists.
New Arrivals Suzayor, the Firebird speaks on the Eleaii and the dragons. How did the Eleaii come about...well, you already know that they were the youngest of the humans. It was shortly after the First Demon War that we discovered the first dragon egg. Of course, we didn't name it that then. The creature hatched from it was a lithe reptilian the size of a large dog, with iridescent wings and a head like that of a dragonfly, vine-like goat limbs, golden scales and elk-like horns, and bright blue eyes. She was strong as well, as it took Enutrof himself to wrestle her into submission. We took the animal to Heaven, and inquested as to whom was responsible for its creation. Ozchdai denied any involvement, and it was clearly not a demon. The creature was immensely intelligent, powerful, grew at an alarming speed, seemed to possess a connection with an unknown being, and could use magic in a way we had never seen before. And that's saying something, from the ones who invented magic. Also, she really liked apples for some reason. Apples and fish. We named the creature Karya and over time she did not become our pet, but our friend. Many a day we spent discussing philosophy and painting, just me, Karya, and Xelai. Ozchdai named it "Draco Chimaerai", or "big-lizard-year-old-she-goat". Within a few days, similar creatures appeared across the world at what seemed to be random places. Enormous numbers of them. Some were large, some were small, some could breathe strange green fumes, some could vanish into thin air, some could spout torrents of water from the mouths, some vomited blue jets that poisoned and burned...but all mixed-and-matched traits that we saw in Ozchdai's kingdom. The only consistent constant we observed was that all the creatures were reptilian-based, and were of a lesser power scale than Karya. It was chaos. Imagine scattering within countless different ecosystems thousands of different animals who severely outclassed the top predator in the area even in its juvenile state. We sent out hunter-seeker parties of our finest trackers to capture as many of them alive. The gods gave their followers further power to combat the threat, and we taught special tactics and the making of special weapons to subdue the dragons. But our followers feared too greatly, and rightfully so. Too many relatively-innocent dragons died senselessly, in my opinion. In the end, we were left with a little more than a handful, some one million dragons. While we were rather hotly discussing how to handle the situation - and I was getting tired of all the shouting - I felt someone tug on my cloak. I turned around, surprised to see a mortal-looking girl of around five years old. I asked if she was a goddess, and she looked surprised, before smiling and saying that yes, yes, she was. She introduced herself as Elea, a new goddess of space and boundary, created by the demiurges in hell as their doll-daughter, who were actually kind to her. She created the dragons as her artistic works, and the demiurges breathed life into them. She argued with her parents, and left hell by stepping into one of the demon-summoning spells. Elea stated that the dragons needed masters in order to be controlled, and so we agreed to choose ten thousand of our followers to be her followers, to bond directly with the dragons and share their lives. And thus was the seventh tribe born. At least, that's the story that we told the mortals. For it would not do for them to believe that they shared a planet with a million strangers, so instead we lead them to believe that there were merely ten thousand. The truth was that all the new-comers were refugees from a world that existed close to ours, and escaped its destruction through stepping sideways in space. But space reacted to being stepped on in the wrong way, and ejected them all across the world. The truth was that there were one million beings who were that world's version of humans, who were direct siblings of the dragons, each Eleaii connected to another dragon. The truth was that Elea and Karya were the brood-mothers of the entire spawn of Eleaii and dragons. The truth is that we are blessed with beings so strange, and that we should rejoice. Breathe not a word of the truth to anyone, my friend, lest our works be undone.
edited 10th Jul '11 2:22:01 AM by Kraken
Fire-Eater It was during the early days after the establishing of Pyreanism that the Beasts first discovered heresy, that it could actually exist. There was a thriving village blessed under the auspices of Suzayor and Arcyana, whose people were pious, humble, and content. Their hives brought honey and riches, their fields brought forth food aplenty, and the rivers brought sweet water. Perhaps they had grown discontent with their simple, homespun, workman philosophies as compared to the newer cosmopolitan ideas that they now faced. Perhaps they had grown too rich too fast. Perhaps it was simply the way of man. Whatever the case, the cloister of that region began to take prosperity and pleasure for themselves in excess. They began to gorge themselves on passion through extended periods of meditation lasting days or weeks, storing up massive reserves on lust and motion and the friction of the mind. Upon reaching their limits, they would release it all in wild coitus with their beautiful wives and husbands, in furious duels of fist or incantation, in wild ravings of prophecy, in ecstatic performances of music and theater. Soon, the entire community was following in their wake, emulating their workings or trying to taste favor in their lips. The faithful wisely and quietly moved to the surrounding villages, bringing as many bees as they could. The sect called themselves the Fengzi, the "flames-on-the-wind, " but were known by their neighbors as the Fa-Peiros, the "eaters-of-fire". At the behest of the faithful who prayed for the salvation of their back-sliding townsmen, Suzayor himself came to the town. Instead of rejecting him and showing open displays of hostility, they welcomed him with open arms, ready and eager to show him the new truths they had uncovered. And why not? For the Firebird was known to embrace innovation and new philosophies more openly than the rest of his brethren. But Suzayor had not come to learn. Their great teacher had instead come to call them to recant, to repentance. In spite of his great warmth, magnetism, and openness, they rebuffed him at every turn in complete politeness, like a loving son who simply does not understand why it was not proper to eat where one defecated. Suzayor stated that although the force of their explosive emotion was unparalleled, that their songs and hymns were truly beautiful, that their sculptures were full of life and their developments in meditation techniques innovative, he did not approve of their methods. They reasons that they were fully keeping in with the codes of karmic temperance. He replied that he was not concerned with the codes, but with the harm they were doing to themselves. What harm was there, they asked. The danger that comes when one wears oneself down with repeated ignitions, like an old rocket. They replied that they were in complete control and he did not have to worry. This repeated conversation and justifications went on for eight days. Finally, Suzayor sighed, his bright eyes dimmed. In sadness, he got up from the table and said one last thing; "Beware, my children. Although you may be the flames on the wind, see that the wind does not blow you into a wild-fire. Although you eat the fire, take pains that the fire does not consume you instead." With those words, he left, tears shimmering into steam in his eyes. It was not long after Suzayor's visit that the attacks began. One fire-eater had broken down, his mad passion growing and mutating until it became a malevolent disease, spread through a bite that drew blood, an attack both physical as well as spiritual. Their bodies became slimed, florescent, almost transparent, like sightless worms. Upon their heads sprouted a thousand writhing tendrils to suck warmth like a leech. And in their mouths grew row after row of tiny, hollow, drill-like teeth filled with paralyzing venom. Within one night, fifty of them became monsters. Within a week, there were no more human souls left breathing in the town. They would have scourged the world entire, had Suzayor not blessed them with the means to be killed. Pasaitrof's silver and Sadtestai's garlic and Genca's rivers are anathema to them, but only Arcyana's fire will slay them. Once the children of the sun, they were now shunned by the sun. The gods sent forth their finest warriors once again, and this is why we hunt vampires, son. Now go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.
Inspired by the rsis, the tapas-gorging yoga sages of Vedic mythology (of which I can find nothing online), vampires being creatures of the sun, shunned by the sun.
edited 23rd Jul '11 7:31:38 PM by Kraken
This hat doesn't fit!So, meditating for too long results in crazy karmic overboosts that eventually turn you into a slimy vampire, or am I missing something?
edited 23rd Jul '11 7:47:44 PM by RocketDude
Meditating for the purpose of storing up huge amounts of energy so you can blow it on sex and art is going to corrupt your mind, break your soul, and put a hole where your heart should be, upon which you will spend the rest of your immortal undead days trying to fill with other people's blood and passion. The philosophies of the Suzayorites is based upon explosive passion restrained within a temperate shell, like a tank of gasoline carefully used little-by-little whenever appropriate. The vampires were children who dumped their gasoline in the fire and danced in the flames.
This hat doesn't fit!Ah.
A dragon with elk horns? I must see a picture of this NAO I do like the dragon story, I want to see more about them. Although I think the tone seems less fairy-tale and more "so the other day I went to Washington and saw some crazy government hijinks".
"Beware, my children. Although you may be the flames on the wind, see that the wind does not blow you into a wild-fire. Although you eat the fire, take pains that the fire does not consume you instead."This was cool. Definitely sounds fairy-tale like.
edited 30th Jul '11 8:32:21 AM by melloncollie
Creatures Ozchidai was alone. He didn't even know if he existed or not. There was only the mind. The mind imagined, and gave birth to a self, having consistency. Ozchidai continued to think, his mind growing hot with the friction of contemplation. Ozchdai lay with his eyes closed. Between head and breast an ardor burned within him, like water seething in silence. Above him, waves crested, the waters flowing ceaselessly against his warmth, the hidden flame. Ozchdai did not know the meters, but still sensed something in his psyche. He saw a chant, reached it, was burned by it, and let it out, and saw what was needed. Ozchdai bent into himself, gathering power. "Settle down, " Ozchdai told himself. "Needs a solid base." He took shape, and did become a small thing. Something so small, it could not be seen by eye. The thing divided itself, and became two things. Together, they swam in the primordial jelly. They divided once more, and the things became four. This shape did not agree with Ozchdai, and so the four things became three things and one Ozchdai. And Ozchdai saw his brood, regarding them with yearning, watching them drift away in the primordial waters. We call these creatures mikros, the miniscule. The Progenitor drifted, wanting to take shape once again, and reached into the mantra, and took a new form. Crust enveloped his tailed body, sensitive whiskers sprouted from his jaws, eight sharp legs formed, black beady eyes in his translucent shell. Deep within him formed a womb, and he did stir his own seed to mix with his own eggs, and laid them forth in the waters. The eggs hatched, emerging shiny and new, their own shells half-formed. Again, the form disagreed with him, and Ozchdai evicted from it. He still did not know what to name them, but they are to us the shrimp. He reached again, and took another shape. This time it was oblong, covered in scales, slits along his throat to breathe in the water, and a powerful tail to propel in the depths. Upon our table is one of his descendants, the fish. Ozchdai sensed he had a companion, a second being within him. It was his accompanying being, the female form, Kaio. He looked within himself, and let her rise like a continuous stream of milky-white liquid from his mouth, without beginning or end. Ozchdai felt a strange feeling, and swam towards her. Shrinking, Kaio mimicked Ozchdai, taking the same shape. From her womb went forth the eggs, resting upon a stone. Pride and the desire to prove himself filled him, and he shot forth his seed, to mingle with the eggs, which hatched and grew, only to disappear. Kaio, her duty done, shifted back to the liquid, and mixed with the waters. Ozchdai, jealous and angered at her leaving, tried to swallow her up, but could only drink a small portion of her. Kaio rebelled against him, raging against his stomach. Ozchdai shifted to ease the pain once more, and shed his scales. His gills fell off, blubber growing over his now-cold skin, and grew to gigantic proportions. Power filled his veins, and he burst to the surface, and sang with all his joyous heart. We call this creature a whale. After singing himself into exhaustion, Ozchdai fell on the beach, unable to move. His flesh sloughed off, becoming countless maggots of blubber, and swarmed back into the sea to reform, leaving Ozchdai in his shapeless form again. Upon the beach was a lotus leaf, newly fallen. Tired as he was, Ozchdai pushed the leaf out to the water, lay down, and drifted away. When he awoke, he was not alone. Five shimmering presences appeared in his midst, blazing. Before he could even speak, they spoke instead. "You are a god. Concept and shape. We are the Demiurges, power and power and power. What is your name?" they asked. "I...do not have one." "Then you are Abahb, existence." "No, that is not who I am." "You are Ihdob, awakening." "No." "Uhdnad, connector." "It does not fit." "Avras, everything." One-by-one, they thrust upon him a name, but each slipped off his intangible form. Finally, "You are Ozchdai, progenitor." They said finally. "Yes, that is what I am." "Now finish your duties and shape creatures for this world." they said, before turning away. As they hurried away, Ozchdai glimpsed a bright head of tawny waving hair, a white shoulder, a shape that cast a spell in one of the dark-shrouded Demiurges. "Oh, if only she would come back..." he thought. "I would like to join myself to her..." And so the concept lust was created from a god desiring a Demiurge, like steel scraping flint. In a dusty learing, Ozchdai sat. He reached into the mantra, and generated power. Finally, after nine days and nine nights, he lifted his arms. Upon which light streamed from his armpits, shooting off and burying in the sky, becoming a thousand winged and feathered birds. One alighted on his head, and he let it be his brain. He cut out a section of his heart, and tore that up. He scattered it to the wind and the forest, and they became great cats, clawed and nible and lithe and strong. One small one stalked back to him, mewing, and he let it be his liver. Ozchdai sat on the ground, and sloughed off pieces of his spent skin, the palms of his hands rubbing furiously over his essence-belly, his legs. He gathered a great lump, and from that lump hatched millions upon millions of skittering, flying, hovering insects. A grasshopper jumped on his shoulder and started singing, and he let it crawl in the spaces in his marrow. And so for a long time Ozchdai took pieces of himself and made new things, unknowingly slowly emptying a vast ocean. The Demiurges appeared again in the sky, bringing with them his brothers and sisters, unformed. Ozchdai determined to help, resolving to give each of his siblings a gift. After the Demiurges poured sunlight and fire into one and turned to make another, he shot forth an albatross into it, and became the first bowman. In the one they mixed silver sand and dust, he threw a jackal. In the sister they molded the sky and the thorns from, he snuck in the ravens. In the amalgam of stars and fortune, one of his cat's brood. In the mix of herbs and sparks, the butterfly. And so he continued, until he got caught. The Demiurges, seeing what he did, angrily struck at him, breaking him apart, before absentmindedly turning back to their work. The world was dense. Ozchdai lay on his back, empty of his essence and feverish. Fire flared in his broken joints, needles filled his marrow. The pain was unbearable. How long would this last? He felt the mantra that sat in his head and its thousands of variations drift away and disappear. He bade farewell to each one, speaking the words aloud. He felt he had run the whole race. Then someone came to moisten his lips. The firstborn gods returned, each sheepishly wrangling one of his mantras. They had caught as many as they could, but many still escaped. The gods took their own powers, chaining the mantras within Ozchdai's form, finally giving him a coherent shape. But they could not restore him to youth, and so he sits in his forest, an old, bearded, and withered god.
This hat doesn't fit!Nice work, but is it bad if I giggle at these?
He looked within himself, and let her rise like a continuous stream of milky-white liquid from his mouth
Upon which light streamed from his armpits
Go ahead. I deliberately tried to make it somewhat silly, somewhat sexual.
It's not much weirder than many myths. The armpit thing showed up in Norse mythology. Keep your thread going Kraken, I like it :) Poor Ozchdai.
edited 3rd Aug '11 9:47:58 AM by melloncollie
TV Tropes by TV Tropes Foundation, LLC is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available from firstname.lastname@example.org.