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« on: March 24, 2014, 07:57:48 pm »
He slipped into the world after it had been made and others had entered. The Trickster cast his gaze about and saw a configuration of worlds that he was unused to - strange simplicity and yet innovation on the part of their Originator. But the others he spied were the same as ever - they made, they sculpted the universe their Overgod had made into twisted reflections of their own psyches, created without asking why. It was almost as if they'd had this information programmed into them and now spread it endlessly - for immortals, these gods always longed for the familiar - what they called sun, a sky, land to make adoring legions of followers on, to build a domain on. They longed for substance.
The fools.
He heard the Word spoken by the creator, and shifted in discontent. He had intended to steal language from fate here, for the originator of it would have great power over all instances of it.
The Laughing One was seized by a sudden burst of bitterness as he gazed upon the world as it was becoming - merely another repetition of the same concepts of consciousness he had seen throughout countless eras, no innovation, no difference - they made imperfect dolls of mud and wood and air and they thought themselves worthy of the power they squandered recklessly? He snorted, and then caught his breath as it left his nostrils - he would need it. He took it in both of his three hands and breathed his bitterness into it before tearing it in three. He then released them, and watched as they went to what they were bid to do.
The first segment ghosted down to the first tree from the darkness above. It roiled and frothed as it glided down the trunk of the tree and spread out amongst the base. It would soak into the hearts of those who were set to guard it and be forgotten, stiffening them and slowing their minds. No longer would they be stalwart guardians of the World Tree; instead they would sleep often, and it would be possible for the clever to escape their notice if they wished to go to the World Tree.
Split an Act into 3 Minor Acts.
1 Minor Act: Curse the Treants with lethargy, causing them to sleep for long periods and be slow in their thoughts and bleary in their eyesight.
His second breath became even more insubstantial as it wound its way round the minds of the ghostlike beings on the second sphere of rock, swelling them uncomfortably and elevating their perceived visions of themselves. No longer would their pursuit of knowledge be purely for its own sake, but instead out of a ravenous desire to advance their own interests. He had excised trust from among the Specters.
1 Minor Act: Curse the Specters to have extreme amounts of arrogance as a racial trait, as well as narcissism, paranoia, pride, greed - essentially, turn them all into sociopaths.
Finally, his breath travelled to a race still being birthed from their godly womb. They were the most fragile of the mortals, and comparatively children, so they were made as such.
1 Minor Act: Curse the forest elves to have the personalities and morals of small children - a bruter kind of psychopathy than the Specters, but still selfish, lacking in common sense, innocent of atrocities even as they commit them, etc.
The necessary imperfections given, Trickster divorced himself from his breath. He knew this dance of gods well, knew their easily-nettled pride, and wisely hid himself from them for now.
1 Act: Remove any traces of Trickster from the breath that corrupted the mortal races to prevent the vengeful gods from knowing his identity - in meta speak, disguise my acts so the other players don't auto-know it was me.