Revision as of 17:22, 8 June 2010

Something I came up with because I was bored and amused at the same time.

Creation: A Comedy of Errors

Act 1: Why The World Isn't Round

Gaia: ... Y'know, I'm really bored.

Cytherea: Yeah, me too.... Hey, I know, let's make something.

Gaia: ... Make what? I thought we'd made everything we could think of?

Cytherea: Oh, good point. Hey wait, crazy idea here. Let's make something that's not part of ourselves.

Gaia: Yeah, but what're we going to make it out of? All this Wyld stuff is unstable and kooky.

Cytherea, with a wicked grin: C'mere.

Gaia: Hey, wait! What are you doing!? DON'T TOUCH ME THERE! EEEK!

There are many screams as the extant unshaped raksha and shaped raksha flee Gaia's explosive new growth, capturing some in the process.

Gaia, as the body of Creation: Well, this is different.

Cytherea: Okay, now to go get the crippled kid to build stuff to populate it. HEY, AUTOCHTHON, GET YOUR GOLD PLATED BUTT OVER HERE!

Autochthon: Gold hasn't been invented yet, so my butt isn't gold-plated. Come to think of it, buttocks haven't been invented yet either.

Cytherea: Yes they do! I invented them, just now.

Autochthon looks behind him: So they have. So what do you want, oh shrill and tasteless one?

Cytherea points at the warped body of Gaia, Gaia waves meekly.: Make Creation out of her and make things for it.

Autochthon looks at the distorted Gaia, then at Cytherea, not enthusiastic at all: Right... and why should I do this?

Cytherea: BECAUSE I SAID SO, LIMPY MCLIMPSALOT!

Autochthon simply glares at Cytherea.

Gaia looks at Autochthon with huge puppy-dog eyes: Please?

Autochthon sighs, exhaling a gout of black smog-stuff: Oh, fine. Just remember you two owe me. So what kind of Creation do you want? Big, small?

Cytherea and Gaia together: BIG!

Autochthon nods, continuing: Aaand, did you want it to grow or shrink?

Gaia: Grows!

Cytherea, at the same time as Gaia: Shrinks!

Autochthon nods, and holds out a piece of paper and a pen: Okay, you two just sign the work order here and here, and you'll have one Creation made to order.

Cytherea signs: But will it shrink or grow?

Autochthon helps Gaia sign the paper: Yes.

Cytherea stomps her proverbial foot: Which is it? Grows or shrinks.

Autochthon, absently, looking over the paperwork: I already said yes, it does. Okay! Everything is in order.

Cytherea is about to ask her question again when Autocthon produces a large crystal sphere from his toolbelt and drops it on Gaia's heart grace, transforming them into the Five Elemental Poles. Gaia's essence-self ripples and undulates as the device changes the blank slate of her Creation face, forming the landscape of the world.

The other Primordials walk up.

Malfeas walks up to Autochthon and shoves him down: Heeey, look everybody, the cripple made something! What'd you make, Gimpy? A toaster oven with sparkles on top?

Autochthon, lying face down in the Western Oceans: Gaia and Cytherea had me help them make something called Creation.

Adorjan zooms by everybody and into Creation: Whoot! A new place to do things in! I'll make something called wind and it'll be all capricious and stuff.

Szoreny, as an aside to the other Primordials: Yeah, because she's a big bag of hot air. Anyhoo, I'm gonna go throw a housewarming party for Cytherea, guys wanna come along?

The Primordials exit, chuckling and nodding in agreement, leaving Gaia and Autochthon behind.

Gaia: Um... aren't you going to get up, Autochthon?

Autocthon, still lying face-down in the oceans: No, I just invented something I call sea life and decided to beta test it.

Sometime later...

Cecylene sits down, wiping her forehead of sweat: This isn't much fun anymore... when did Creation become work?

The other Primordials shrug collectively, saying variations on "I don't know".

She Who Lives In Her Name: ... Why don't we get the feeb over there to make us some servants to do all the grunt work for us?

The Ebon Dragon: Yeah, and that way we can devote more time to playing this game I found lying around.

Cytherea: What? How would you just /find/ a game laying around? One of us had to have made it or it wouldn't exist.

Ebon Dragon: I don't know, I just found it laying around in the Wyld.

Malfeas: Ooh ooh, game! I wanna see it!

The Ebon Dragon whips out the game box and holds it up proudly for all assembled Primordials to see. It reads "THE GAMES OF DIVINITY (c)" in large friendly letters, and shows several non-existant Primordials playing the game on the front. There's a look on the faces of the Primordials of instant envy/addiction/desire.

The Primordials: Ooooh, I wanna play!

She Who Lives In Her Name: Yeah, but first we gotta ditch the hippy and the walking defect over there. *jerks her thumb over at Gaia and Autochthon*

Gaia and Autochthon are over in the East discussing something about trees and how lovely they are, and that there really ought to be more shrubbery.

Kimbery, imitating Gaia mockingly: Oh, but who'll take care of Creation? Who'll make sure it works out okay? Autochthon and me can't do it all alone!

Cecylene: Yeah, while you're doing that, I'm gunna go make a place for us to play. I'll call it Yu-Shan and it'll be our private little penthouse.

She Who Lives in Her Name: And for giggles, we'll make our future servants all sit there on that big island there and watch us have fun while they're slaving away. Ha ha ha!

Malfeas: And we can give them free will so that when we visit we'll be surprised.

Ebon Dragon: But what happens if they decide to rebel against us?

He-Who-Holds-In-Thrall: No problem! We'll make swear oaths on their own names that they can't raise a hand against us.

Ebon Dragon: Ooh, good idea, they'll never get out of that one. Hey, I'll go convince 'Great Maker' to do it.

Cecylene and the others depart as the Ebon Dragon approaches where Autochthon is working on a lump of white jade and looking rather frustrated. He looks up from his work.

Autochthon, sighing: Is it pantsing day again already?

Ebon Dragon: No that's tomorrow, but thanks for the reminder, chum.

Autochthon glances at the stubborn lump of jade and chucks it over his shoulder: If you're not here for cruel jokes and taunt me about my health, you obviously want something made.

Ebon Dragon: You got it, machine man.

Autochthon: ... And why should I make anything for you or the others? All you do is torment me.

Ebon Dragon smiles with all the smarm he can muster, clapping Autochthon on the back: Because, Autochthon, you're not like the others. You actually enjoy making things and watching them work. You like the challenge and the intellectual stimulation of it. It's a part- Nay! Your fundamental nature to create and tinker, your divine heritage! It was what you defined yourself by when you thought yourself into existance, and what you are bound by the laws governing our very exsistence into doing!

Autochthon: Just like the reason you're the slipperiest silver-tongued bastard there'll ever be?

Ebon Dragon: PREcisely, my good fellow!

Autochthon: Well, you've got me pegged, I do like a challenge. Okay, so what do you want?

The Ebon Dragon explains what the Primordials want in brief.

Autochthon: Huh... so you say you guys want to ditch what you do in Creation to go play a game?

Ebon Dragon: Yep. Oh, and I'm terribly sorry, my dear fellow, but the other Primordials would rather you don't participate in the Games. I tried to convince them, but well... you know how loud and insistant Adorjan and Cytherea get. And then the others, they-

Autochton, interrupting the Ebon Dragon: Oh, no, I'm fine with it. Who needs games when you've got all this to work with? *He gestures to mean Creation*

The Ebon Dragon spies something in Autochthon's hands: What's that you've got there, Autochthon?

Autochthon: Oh, I call it a mortal, and it's the First of its kind. I made it out of some funky jade I found in the ground. I think I'll call it a Jadeborn, and tell it to go find more weird lumps of white jade and make more of its kind. Go on little guy, be free! *Autochthon sets the First down upon the Elemental Pole of Earth and turns back to the Ebon Dragon*

The Ebon Dragon watches the First walk around aimlessly for a moment, wheels turning in the infinite schemes of its minde: Oh, sorry, where was I...? What? Wait! Mortals? Jadeborn? When did you make those?

Autochthon: Oh, I made them while you were talking about how I was bound by my definition to create things. See, I figured out that the weird jade has trapped raksha in it, and-

Autochthon goes into a very long and lengthy explanation of how he made the First, at which point the Ebon Dragon's eyes glaze over and he simply nods and says 'Uh huh' at the appropriate points.

Autochthon: ... and that's how I made the first mortal, which I call a jadeborn.

Ebon Dragon: Huh? OH! Right. Brilliant idea, Autocthon, keep 'em coming! Hey listen, make sure the gods you create swear on their own names that they won't raise a hand against us. I mean, who knows what might happen if the little midgets get uppity!

Autochthon: What about any mortals that end up being made?

Ebon Dragon: Mortals? Eh, who cares? They're too puny to ever threaten our Primordial power. Just let them roam free and do amusing but insignifigant stuff. Oh, and I'd love it if there was a race of dragons that weren't... soo.... y'know... elemental or bitey. They can be the kings of dragons, really... Dragon kings! And put them there in the corners of Creation. Make 'em really tough, but not so tough they don't die. Oh, and you could have them reincarnate as themselves.

Autochthon nods, writing things down as the Ebon Dragon prattles on...

Act 2: The Ever Present Loophole

Malfeas, Adorjan, and He-Who-Holds-In-Thrall are picking on Autochthon, with He-Who-Holds-In-Thrall holding Autochthon upside-down and shaking him.

Autochthon: Please stop, I think I'm getting a nose bleed...

He-Who-Holds-In-Thrall: I'll stop when you cough up something fun to toy with, feeb. Malfeas, work the breadbasket.

Malfeas obliges by belting Autochthon a few times in the gut, working him over a few times. Cogs and plates go flying everywhich way. One of Autochthon's eyes goes flying out and lands somewhere in Creation, along with less powerful bits like an astrological calendar that lands in what will become Varang, and a inspiration thought-entity that gets stuck somewhere near where the future Haslanti League will form. A herd of furnace rhinos flies out as a result one of the blows and lands in the South.

Adorjan looks at Autochthon with false pity mixed with the selection of a seductive shape: Aww... come on Autochthon... no more toys for us to play with? If you make me a new toy to play with, we could have so much fun together...

Autochthon: But all you guys ever do is beat me up, make me the butt of your jokes, and mock my health! Everything I make you end up wrecking with what you call playing! I'm not going to let you guys break my stuff anymore!

The Ebon Dragon walks up, carrying something: Eh, forget him. He's useless to us now... BUT! He can witness as we take apart one of his many inventions. *The Ebon Dragon holds out in his hand The First, wriggling and struggling to escape the clutches of the Primordial* Does this look familiar, you pathetic excuse for a Primordial?

Autochthon, with tears welling up in his eyes: I- I thought you were my friend, Ebon Dragon...

Ebon Dragon: Really? Because I thought you would have gotten all the hints I'd dropped over the past eternity that I wasn't. Wasn't Pantsing Day a huge clue? I mean, really! *he puts on a handsome/wicked/devilish smile, taking on the shape of interminable evil hiding behind a pleasing face* I guess I defined myself to be more clever than you defined yourself to be, Autochthon. Even if you're unwilling to give your secrets to us and hide them instead, we'll simply tear apart what you've already made to steal your knowledge and use it for our own purposes.

Autochthon, flailing uselessly against the virtual stranglehold upon him by He-Who-Holds-In-Thrall: No! Don't do it! I beg of you, don't do it!

The Ebon Dragon simply smiles that irresistable devil's grin of his, and begins taking apart The First. The resultant screams of pain would never be wholly replicated in Creation, as the imperishable body and soul of the First is rent apart and rearranged in ways that only a Primordial could dream of. Many times The First wished himself dead, but found no release, no escape of the soul to the safety of the jade womb. From the torment of The First was drawn the template for humanity, whose birth cries are faint echoes of the First's screams.

The Unconquered Sun, Luna, and the Six Maidens are standing around on the Elemental Pole of Earth, looking up.

The Unconquered Sun, pointing up: Hey, do you ever wonder what it is the bosses do up there in Yu-Shan?

Everybody looks expectantly at Jupiter, who looks back at them: What?

Venus: Do you know what they do up there in Yu-Shan?

Jupiter shrugging: Why should I know?

Mercury: Because you're the Maiden of Secrets, not the Maiden of the Obvious, sister.

Maiden of the Obvious: Yeah, that's myDarzoni/I> job!

Jupiter smiles enigmatically, finger waggling: If I told you, I'd disappear in a puff of logic.

Luna stares at Jupiter, exasperated: ... You don't know, do you?

Jupiter, finger waggling at them again: That is a secret!

The rest of the crowd groans and shakes their head at the statement. Suddenly a massive eye peers out from a crack in the sky that has been opened up.

She-Who-Lives-In-Her-Name: HEY, are you guys plotting again? Cuz if you are, I'll give you such a BEATING...

The Celestial Incarnae, quickly covering the mouth of the Maiden of the Obvious so she can't speak: No oh glorious master, we're not plotting anything!

She-Who-Lives-In-Her-Name: GOOD, because then I'd sack the lot of you if you were.... Carry on!

The Unconquered Sun, after She-Who-Lives-In-Her-Name departs: I'm really sick of being threatened and mangled every time one of them comes down here to play.... Plus I want to know what it is they spend most of their time up there doing.

Mars: Yeah... I'm tired of being threatened and beaten up too... I mean, that's what <i>I'mDarzoni/I> supposed to do, for crying out loud.

Venus: And the devastation they bring to all the mortals... poor things, I don't think the humans have even discovered what steel is yet because Malfeas keeps stomping on their largest villages for the fun of it.

Jupiter: They ask me to keep the most awful secrets...

Mercury, shaking her head: Not to mention the havoc they cause with travel, what with breaking whole chunks of Creation up just because they're bored and want something to do. UGH.

The Maiden of the Obvious: Primordials suck!

Luna: Yeah, and the only one that's any fun in the sack is Gaia...

The other incarnae simply STARE at Luna incredulously.

Luna: ... What?

The Unconquered Sun, shaking his head: ... Nevermind. You've been really quiet, Saturn, what's your thoughts on the matter?

Saturn says nothing, but draws her finger across her throat.

The Unconquered Sun, clapping all four of his hands: Great! So Saturn says it's time to end the Reign of the Primordials... so how do we do that if we can't do it ourselves? I mean, we've got an iron-clad contract! Have any of you actually READ this thing? *The Unconquered Sun produces a ludicrously huge and thick tome entitled Spirit Employment Contract, and waves it around, accidentally knocking over Mars with its ponderous bulk*

Jupiter, smiling quietly: I have.

The Maiden of the Obvious: She knows a secret!

Luna: Oh, like that's anything new...

Mars, picking herself up and nursing the wound the Spirit Employment Contract gave her: ... Jupiter, if you don't tell us what in blazes they do up there, I'm going to get the rubber hose...

Jupiter, scowling: Okay, fine. They play the Games of Divinity. There, you happy?

The rest of the Incarnae get instant envy/addiction/desire in their eyes: Ooooooh... and what are the Games of Divinity.

Jupiter shrugs: I dunno.

Mars: WHAT?! HOW DO YOU <I>NOTDarzoni/I> KNOW?! THAT'S IT! THE RUBBER HOSE FOR Y-

Maiden of the Obvious: Because they didn't tell her!

The Unconqured Sun blinks at the Maiden of the Obvious: How did you know that?

Maiden of the Obvious: ... Um... I'm the Maiden of the Obvious?

The Unconquered Sun, smacking his forehead: Oh, right, forgot about that. So... we'll plot their-

The sky opens up again to reveal a green sun peering out.

Malfeas: You guys had better not be plotting against us, you hear! Or it's the rubber hose for you all!

Maiden of the Obvious: Of course I'm plotting against-

Maiden of the Obvious is smote from existance with green fire, leaving a crater and a massive chunk of starmetal.

Luna, looking at the remains of the Maiden of the Obvious: Now that was bound to happen sooner or later, right Saturn?

Saturn nods quietly.

The Unconquered Sun, also looking at the Maiden of the Obvious' remains: ... Did we even bother giving her a name?

Venus: Did we even care enough to? I mean, she was on the job for two weeks and the Employment Contract says you don't get a name until your three month probationary period is up.

The Unconquered Sun: Point taken. But still, that's the seventh Maiden of the Obvious we've gone through this season... Maybe we should stop hiring them.

Saturn nods in agreement at the Unconquered Sun's idea. And that's why there isn't a sixth Maiden.

AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHALOLFTW!!! ~ Han'ya <i>is feeling shallow today