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Forum Games and Roleplaying / Re: Godhood
« on: May 04, 2010, 02:07:39 pm »
It started as a curiosity. It ended in disaster.
A new star, or so it seemed at first, appeared in the sky of Aether. It was dim at first, barely visible in the twilight glow of Maia. But it gradually became stronger, brighter. It wasn’t long before the elves realized the truth. Something was coming.
Though the elves realized this, they couldn’t have guessed the devastation it would bring. A great sphere, glowing a fiery red as it plummeted through the atmosphere of Aether, slammed into the crystalline sands and fields, gouging a huge crater and shattering into pieces. The impact sent up a plume of unnatural smoke, smelling of acrid poison. The elves fled from the impact site, fearing the unknown, but in doing so they unwittingly brought death with them.
Those who first breathed the smoke were the first to show signs. Their bodies became weak, their breathing rapid. They began to sweat, and grow pale, turning a snow white. As time passed, blotchy bruising would spontaneously over their skin, and they began coughing up a pale blood. Almost invariably, they died from their hearts seizing up suddenly, or from being struck within their minds, or simply from losing too much blood and passing out, until their breath gradually stilled.
At first, it was just the few who were at the impact site. But then others around them began to show signs of the plague. The elves fled from anyone showing signs of paleness, unwittingly serving as carriers to infect new settlements. The plague became known as the ‘white curse’ as a local illness rapidly spread to become an epidemic. The Rhea became very busy collecting the souls of the dead, and the elves tried to halt the white curse by burning the bodies on large funeral pyres. Oddly, the greatest mercy and aid came from those who endured the plague and survived, for once the white curse had come and gone, they would never again contract it.
Luna looked down on the suffering that the plague brought, and she wept for her creations. But she was not a goddess of healing, and knew not how to stop this disease. Desperate, she called for help. Far and wide, over all the planets and even to the demigods and gods, dreams came to them. They saw images of the elves suffering from the plagues, and heard a pleading voice begging them. “Please, help my children.”
Act 3: Send out a dream call for help to all the races and gods.
A new star, or so it seemed at first, appeared in the sky of Aether. It was dim at first, barely visible in the twilight glow of Maia. But it gradually became stronger, brighter. It wasn’t long before the elves realized the truth. Something was coming.
Though the elves realized this, they couldn’t have guessed the devastation it would bring. A great sphere, glowing a fiery red as it plummeted through the atmosphere of Aether, slammed into the crystalline sands and fields, gouging a huge crater and shattering into pieces. The impact sent up a plume of unnatural smoke, smelling of acrid poison. The elves fled from the impact site, fearing the unknown, but in doing so they unwittingly brought death with them.
Those who first breathed the smoke were the first to show signs. Their bodies became weak, their breathing rapid. They began to sweat, and grow pale, turning a snow white. As time passed, blotchy bruising would spontaneously over their skin, and they began coughing up a pale blood. Almost invariably, they died from their hearts seizing up suddenly, or from being struck within their minds, or simply from losing too much blood and passing out, until their breath gradually stilled.
At first, it was just the few who were at the impact site. But then others around them began to show signs of the plague. The elves fled from anyone showing signs of paleness, unwittingly serving as carriers to infect new settlements. The plague became known as the ‘white curse’ as a local illness rapidly spread to become an epidemic. The Rhea became very busy collecting the souls of the dead, and the elves tried to halt the white curse by burning the bodies on large funeral pyres. Oddly, the greatest mercy and aid came from those who endured the plague and survived, for once the white curse had come and gone, they would never again contract it.
Luna looked down on the suffering that the plague brought, and she wept for her creations. But she was not a goddess of healing, and knew not how to stop this disease. Desperate, she called for help. Far and wide, over all the planets and even to the demigods and gods, dreams came to them. They saw images of the elves suffering from the plagues, and heard a pleading voice begging them. “Please, help my children.”
Act 3: Send out a dream call for help to all the races and gods.