Awakening
ganonso
Compulsive Quest Starter
- Location
- PACA France
Awakening
In your first youth, you were born in space, aboard the everships of the First Race, the Old Ones and the Urfolk. You don't know if you were crafted as a shadow of their forms, molded at their image and resemblance and you didn't care. They were bright figures beyond your ken, beings whose mastery of the cosmos confined to the divine. They were not gods though but flesh and bone and blood who did not intrude on the material universe but were born on it. They made you as vigilant servant of their wills and as you pushed your birth-scream you saw the countless stars of heaven's fields contrasting with the carved stone of your ship. You looked at the stars and your first question was "How many are they?" The voice of your masters thundered in your skull, telling you all would be brought to light and life under the wise dominion of the Old Ones. Brothers you had in this time, crawling from the same pools as you. With them you attended lessons where signs of the stone shifted to the voice of your lords telling you of the Laws who arrayed the universe and the means to change it. Life was good then, full of possibilities.
You saw the world in its utmost youth filled with life waiting for your masters' firm claw. Dragons and Ogres with the bodies of dragons fought in the mists while giants walked the land, forests growing on their backs. You changed all that and more. You took the world in your hands and carried it closer to its sun. You shaped a moon and set it to light the night. You looked at the seas and said to them: "No more! Here will break the pride of your waves." You commanded to the seasons, put the cycle of water in place and froze the surface of the abyss solid. From living clay in pools of stone and glass you crafted the strong Sauruses and the agile Skinks to help and serve you as you helped and served the Old Ones. Other races were destined to other tasks, some of which you are not sure. For the elves and their gods came from seeds brought from afar and humanity's many throng arose from simian stock, the Dwarves of the mountains were meant to build the world and defend it against the Empyrean while brutish ogres and nimble halflings were unfinished sketches, made just before the great catastrophe.
Shining gates opened by your masters' word connected the world to the rest of the universe. Sometimes you remember they opened on the chaos of the Warp, tamed by science older than the world, sometimes you saw the inkling of some place who was neither the Empyrean nor the material universe. When they crumbled you had already been bloodied by war with the Orks escaped from their confinement pens but you couldn't imagine what would happen. Even to this day you don't know what brought Chaos to your world even if you thought sometimes to spy an inkling of an answer when looking at the elves. You had the vision of creatures much like them birthing a monster in the throes of their decadence, losing both their crown and their soul to their son-daughter. Even if those on your world were blameless you decided to shoulder the war alone, especially after your masters disappeared and your prayers went unanswered. What happened to them who were mighty as gods as the daemons rampaged through the wreckage of their portals you don't know. You directed your servants to their worship but in your heart ever dwelled the blasphemous thought they had decided to abandon you to the mercy of the devouring gods.
You fought the endless war from the beginning of the world to its fiery end. You stood with all your brothers and armies of lizards and beasts against the first tide of daemons threatening to consume your world. You discovered loss at this time as your brethren were slain until only one remained of the first spawning who had seen the world from the outside before stepping on it. You fought the Eidolons of the Primordial Annihilator, corrupt gods in their own right as they came to you in an endless wave of filth and impurity. You saw them face to face and forbade them access into the world. You, a part of you, first among those of the first spawning, lord of the first city ever raised on the world, you died to their claws but that was not the end. The Green Sun itself struck you down with his blade, splitting your mortal flesh in twain but you refused to die. Your spirit rose like a white cloud and you became more powerful than you could ever have imagined, mighty enough to banish the daemons from your home.
You refused to die. Whatever happened to your people, you refused to die and let go off the world. Daemons came in their hordes, then those of the elves who had forgot who you were, then the loathsome children of Yakeen Voidsinger and you didn't submit. Plague came and shrouded your cities in its embrae and you didn't submit. That caricature of a moon brought upon in the First Coming of Chaos was broken asunder and the fragments hurled to the world and your last act was to limit the devastation as well as you could. Even as you died in the flesh you refused to give in. You felt the world roll merilly from your grasp into the abyss but you willed yourself to endure, shielding your souls from the madness of Chaos and devouring those who wielded the power of the star into their beings. You saw your creation disappear in the Warp, like some imperfect sketch an artist throw into the fire and yet you didn't submit to oblivion's embrace or betrayed your oath to your departed masters. Your scream made this place and from the jaws of the Dark Gods you took the corpse of the world that was, happy in even this insignificant victory.
Your power crafted this place, this realm, so similar to the sights of your youth. A realm where distance is but a fleeting dream and one can step on stars to get to the next destination. A realm cold and uncaring you share with the storm who will destroy the enemies of creation. Something in your old, cold heart warned you about something when you realized that despite your powers, despite the vast expanses of stars, planets, and other celestial bodies produced by your magic you couldn't create life save for the ephemeral images of your troops. So you willingly went to sleep, letting your body be carried on the winds of space.
There was also another reason you went to sleep. In the World that Was you carried the old designs of your forgotten masters. You failed and now, for the first time in your life you are free. It is not something you are accustomed or even prepared for, so you decided to flee the realization by sleeping the sleep of the ages. Perhaps you would never wake and thus be spared the harsh decisions of independence. Alas it is not the case and you stir.
You sensed in your dreams the coming and goings of great many people filling the emptiness of space, some were born of your primeval scream, others, like you, ran from worlds long destroyed. There are gods and monsters and heroes who hunt across the stars and hate the scions of chaos as much as you do.
Where do you wake up?
[] Sun: You awake near the golden orb of a sun letting the golden light melt away the coffin of ice you were encased in. Near the burning stars you can see temples where priests with masks of gold offer thanks to the king of all kings.
[] Moon: You awake near the silvery orb of a bright moon letting the ice covering you disappear in the bright radiance. You look at the ever-shifting moon and see you are in a system of celestial bodies where the howl of wolves is loud enough to shake the very stars.
[] Stars: You break your cocoon in the sea of stars seeing old cities similar to yours. Humans skulk in the ruins offering thanks to the Morning Star and trying to divine the dictates of Fate. They are beset by demons and monsters and hide in great edifice of carved stone.
[] The World that Was: Your journeys brought you back to the old world shining in the darkness. You will feel perhaps sadness or shame looking to this errant orb but you also notice a storm is brewing near your position, burning with great power and waiting for the moment the clouds will be pierced lightning and the rain pours.
Also how do you feel?
[] Determined: Your problems came from the fact you didn't leash the younger races enough and they fell to the wiles of Chaos. Even before the Skavens were a problem your armies didn't leave Lustria. That should cease. You are the oldest foe of Chaos and will be respected as one.
[] Regretful: You failed the world entrusted in your care because you didn't cooperate enough with the younger races. Many of the horrors who befell the world could have been avoided if you communicated clearly with at least the elves. You are free now from the mandate of the Old Ones and you will try to change your ancient ways.
[] Vengeful: Chaos took everything from you. Your masters, your brothers, your people, your world. Looking back you didn't hurt them back nearly enough. No more. You are filled with a cold reptilian fury and you will harness it to great intent. Chaos will suffer. Its innumerable children will be cleansed in fire and with their corpses you will build monuments to the price of their insolence. Their gods will die and their taint will be expunged from all universes that ever was.
In your first youth, you were born in space, aboard the everships of the First Race, the Old Ones and the Urfolk. You don't know if you were crafted as a shadow of their forms, molded at their image and resemblance and you didn't care. They were bright figures beyond your ken, beings whose mastery of the cosmos confined to the divine. They were not gods though but flesh and bone and blood who did not intrude on the material universe but were born on it. They made you as vigilant servant of their wills and as you pushed your birth-scream you saw the countless stars of heaven's fields contrasting with the carved stone of your ship. You looked at the stars and your first question was "How many are they?" The voice of your masters thundered in your skull, telling you all would be brought to light and life under the wise dominion of the Old Ones. Brothers you had in this time, crawling from the same pools as you. With them you attended lessons where signs of the stone shifted to the voice of your lords telling you of the Laws who arrayed the universe and the means to change it. Life was good then, full of possibilities.
You saw the world in its utmost youth filled with life waiting for your masters' firm claw. Dragons and Ogres with the bodies of dragons fought in the mists while giants walked the land, forests growing on their backs. You changed all that and more. You took the world in your hands and carried it closer to its sun. You shaped a moon and set it to light the night. You looked at the seas and said to them: "No more! Here will break the pride of your waves." You commanded to the seasons, put the cycle of water in place and froze the surface of the abyss solid. From living clay in pools of stone and glass you crafted the strong Sauruses and the agile Skinks to help and serve you as you helped and served the Old Ones. Other races were destined to other tasks, some of which you are not sure. For the elves and their gods came from seeds brought from afar and humanity's many throng arose from simian stock, the Dwarves of the mountains were meant to build the world and defend it against the Empyrean while brutish ogres and nimble halflings were unfinished sketches, made just before the great catastrophe.
Shining gates opened by your masters' word connected the world to the rest of the universe. Sometimes you remember they opened on the chaos of the Warp, tamed by science older than the world, sometimes you saw the inkling of some place who was neither the Empyrean nor the material universe. When they crumbled you had already been bloodied by war with the Orks escaped from their confinement pens but you couldn't imagine what would happen. Even to this day you don't know what brought Chaos to your world even if you thought sometimes to spy an inkling of an answer when looking at the elves. You had the vision of creatures much like them birthing a monster in the throes of their decadence, losing both their crown and their soul to their son-daughter. Even if those on your world were blameless you decided to shoulder the war alone, especially after your masters disappeared and your prayers went unanswered. What happened to them who were mighty as gods as the daemons rampaged through the wreckage of their portals you don't know. You directed your servants to their worship but in your heart ever dwelled the blasphemous thought they had decided to abandon you to the mercy of the devouring gods.
You fought the endless war from the beginning of the world to its fiery end. You stood with all your brothers and armies of lizards and beasts against the first tide of daemons threatening to consume your world. You discovered loss at this time as your brethren were slain until only one remained of the first spawning who had seen the world from the outside before stepping on it. You fought the Eidolons of the Primordial Annihilator, corrupt gods in their own right as they came to you in an endless wave of filth and impurity. You saw them face to face and forbade them access into the world. You, a part of you, first among those of the first spawning, lord of the first city ever raised on the world, you died to their claws but that was not the end. The Green Sun itself struck you down with his blade, splitting your mortal flesh in twain but you refused to die. Your spirit rose like a white cloud and you became more powerful than you could ever have imagined, mighty enough to banish the daemons from your home.
You refused to die. Whatever happened to your people, you refused to die and let go off the world. Daemons came in their hordes, then those of the elves who had forgot who you were, then the loathsome children of Yakeen Voidsinger and you didn't submit. Plague came and shrouded your cities in its embrae and you didn't submit. That caricature of a moon brought upon in the First Coming of Chaos was broken asunder and the fragments hurled to the world and your last act was to limit the devastation as well as you could. Even as you died in the flesh you refused to give in. You felt the world roll merilly from your grasp into the abyss but you willed yourself to endure, shielding your souls from the madness of Chaos and devouring those who wielded the power of the star into their beings. You saw your creation disappear in the Warp, like some imperfect sketch an artist throw into the fire and yet you didn't submit to oblivion's embrace or betrayed your oath to your departed masters. Your scream made this place and from the jaws of the Dark Gods you took the corpse of the world that was, happy in even this insignificant victory.
Your power crafted this place, this realm, so similar to the sights of your youth. A realm where distance is but a fleeting dream and one can step on stars to get to the next destination. A realm cold and uncaring you share with the storm who will destroy the enemies of creation. Something in your old, cold heart warned you about something when you realized that despite your powers, despite the vast expanses of stars, planets, and other celestial bodies produced by your magic you couldn't create life save for the ephemeral images of your troops. So you willingly went to sleep, letting your body be carried on the winds of space.
There was also another reason you went to sleep. In the World that Was you carried the old designs of your forgotten masters. You failed and now, for the first time in your life you are free. It is not something you are accustomed or even prepared for, so you decided to flee the realization by sleeping the sleep of the ages. Perhaps you would never wake and thus be spared the harsh decisions of independence. Alas it is not the case and you stir.
You sensed in your dreams the coming and goings of great many people filling the emptiness of space, some were born of your primeval scream, others, like you, ran from worlds long destroyed. There are gods and monsters and heroes who hunt across the stars and hate the scions of chaos as much as you do.
Where do you wake up?
[] Sun: You awake near the golden orb of a sun letting the golden light melt away the coffin of ice you were encased in. Near the burning stars you can see temples where priests with masks of gold offer thanks to the king of all kings.
[] Moon: You awake near the silvery orb of a bright moon letting the ice covering you disappear in the bright radiance. You look at the ever-shifting moon and see you are in a system of celestial bodies where the howl of wolves is loud enough to shake the very stars.
[] Stars: You break your cocoon in the sea of stars seeing old cities similar to yours. Humans skulk in the ruins offering thanks to the Morning Star and trying to divine the dictates of Fate. They are beset by demons and monsters and hide in great edifice of carved stone.
[] The World that Was: Your journeys brought you back to the old world shining in the darkness. You will feel perhaps sadness or shame looking to this errant orb but you also notice a storm is brewing near your position, burning with great power and waiting for the moment the clouds will be pierced lightning and the rain pours.
Also how do you feel?
[] Determined: Your problems came from the fact you didn't leash the younger races enough and they fell to the wiles of Chaos. Even before the Skavens were a problem your armies didn't leave Lustria. That should cease. You are the oldest foe of Chaos and will be respected as one.
[] Regretful: You failed the world entrusted in your care because you didn't cooperate enough with the younger races. Many of the horrors who befell the world could have been avoided if you communicated clearly with at least the elves. You are free now from the mandate of the Old Ones and you will try to change your ancient ways.
[] Vengeful: Chaos took everything from you. Your masters, your brothers, your people, your world. Looking back you didn't hurt them back nearly enough. No more. You are filled with a cold reptilian fury and you will harness it to great intent. Chaos will suffer. Its innumerable children will be cleansed in fire and with their corpses you will build monuments to the price of their insolence. Their gods will die and their taint will be expunged from all universes that ever was.
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