Malus's Story

All throughout her friends, for she had yet to find conflict with a single one of her peers, argument, the woman, clad in soft, whispers of white cloth that formed robes, which fell upon her body intricately, sat upon her throne, decorated in many hieroglyphics that read off plans of mass chaos and destruction, each plan used somehow in one of the many, many wars that man-kind had participated in. She listened, she watched, and she thought.

After allowing them to simmer and fume with and against each other a bit longer, Kallistrate, ever the voice of reason, rose.

"My fellow Gods and Goddesses, I see not why we must argue. Does that not make us just as bad, if not worse, then the mortals? We sit and we spew, we fight and we argue, yet it accomplishes nothing, now does it?" she asked, her voice soothing and calm, bringing order to the arguments that had been flying back and forth.

She took a few steps to look down at the mortal world, her expression thoughtful.

"Although I do not wish to choose sides, and I am attempting to do exactly that, I do, indeed, have a plan. If you will all hear me through, you will not regret it," she told them, fixing a solid gaze on each one. When no arguments arose, she turned back to study the world below them, her brown hair cascading down her shoulders and to her waist.

"We should not allow them all to be killed, for they have progressed far too quickly and immensely that it would be a complete and utter waste to do so. However, it would be foolish to only let a few live, seeing as those remaining would grow to resent us for allowing their loved ones to die. There will be no second chance, but I do believe it would be a good idea for each and every one of us to, as most of you have already done, pick an Avatar, who will meet with and represent us on Earth. In order for us to choose who should live, and who should die, and I believe we should turn to looking into the lives of those who we find interesting, and see if they are worthy to continue being alive. We should, of course, choose the most intelligent ones. The doctors come first, so as to prevent the new civilization from dying off due to illness and other factors that could kill each and every one of them. For those that we choose to live, though, I have found that, as I said before, humans grow to resent whatever it was that killed their loved ones. I think it would be wise to erase any memories they have of their loved ones that died, and only retain the memories of the ones that are living," she concluded, finally turning back to face the other deities.

"As I said before, my friends; there is no need for us to argue, especially in times of crisis such as these. We must all remember to keep a cool head and to not overreact. Now, please return to your thrones and mull over what I have said, for I do believe it is the answer to our problems.

She shook her head as she watched Arcturus' tirade within the hall, his voice just another one to add to the constant bickering of the assembly. Why she even bothered to turn up was beyond her, as had always been the case she simple toiled away for eternity till her skills were requested by one of her brethren. Sighing and clicking her tongue slowly, she ran her fingers through her wild and unkempt hair which caused a cloud of dust and soot to be disturbed and discarded.

She jumped down from her throne and wandered towards the map of the world below, readjusting the leather straps of her overalls across her shoulders as she did so. She examined the simple design of the device, one of her early works, an overlay of the planet shaped and carved with every detail that mortal and immortal hands had placed upon it. She lightly traced her fingers across the surface in an attempt to examine the destruction more closely, however it appeared to be moving slower than it should for a device designed to mirror the vision of a god. She knelt beside it and had a look underneath, muttering to herself as she did so. Typically the mechanism had been dented by one of the gods during one of the countless disagreements these meetings provoked. She pulled out a small set of tools from her belt, flipped them through the air and caught them again before lying down on her back so that she could get to work with this mechanism. She softly whistled to herself as she did, clicking her tongue again whenever she encountered something requiring more focus and thought.

Finally satisfied that the machinery was working again she pulled herself out from beneath to notice that Arcturus appeared to have left and the 'Trinity' had made their presence known, most likely the latter had had some hand in the formers departure. But it was of little concern to Nuri, for the real reason they were here was to discuss the future of the mortal realm and if it was to be destroyed then it would allow her children to reclaim a home for themselves in the world below. She had no great dislike nor love for humans, but their purge of the giants back during the so called mythological age of mankind had irked her greatly.

She stood up and began to lightly juggle a small wrench in her right hand while she lightly traced the fingers of her left across the smooth surface of the world, smiling as it responded instantly to her touch. At last she found what it was she'd been looking for, something which they would most likely require in the time to come, after all the recreation of a world needs the influence of its gods. She began to focus upon what she'd found, to make sure it was the exact thing she sought.

A small mountain region. Focus.
A small town left in ruins. Focus.
A small mine near the top of one of the nearby mountains. Focus, focus, focus.
A man standing alone. Perfect.

---

He sat on an old wooden crate, looking down at the pickaxe held in his hands. He was shaking slightly. The wind from the mountain top was cold and deadly, but he couldn't feel it. His skin was worn and weary, and so was his heart and soul. His breath was short and strained as he fought down the urge to vomit. He raised his gloved hand to the head of his tool, and lightly brushed the slowly congealing blood from the metal; some of it dripped onto the earth but most of it simply turned the sheen of the metal a dull red.

A voice echoed from the darkness leading down into the mine behind him "Is it safe?"

He turned and moved suddenly towards the voice, calling out in answer "Keep the children back, it's safe. But don't come out." He looked on with slightly hollow eyes as a pale face appeared at the edge of the mine, her eyes were scared but her stance was strong. She saw his wounds, saw his weapon and saw the churned earth and bodies beyond. "Thank you..." She half whispered before she vanished again, leaving him alone with his actions.

When the world had turned upon itself, humanity leading the charge all concept of honour and comradery vanished in the twilight. At first they'd stood as a town against the madmen from beyond but in time that all melted away. He'd seen friends and family kill each other for the last drop of water or a morsel of food. He'd taken his family away from that, up into the mine that he'd worked with his friends for years, as had his father and his father before him. He'd made sure they'd survive but the town had came for them, madness had overtaken their senses. The choice had been the innocents or the corrupted, and he'd chosen the innocents. Him and his sister had taken the children of the town away, kept them safe and alive for a few weeks while him and a handful of others defended the mine. In the end they had been overrun because some of them had decided the children weren't worth it. He'd put them down, and become the monster he'd fought against. But the children were worth it and they were safe now.

He lay in the dust and the blood soaked ground, his pickaxe falling from his hands as he cried. The world around him began to burn as the lowlands were ignited in fire and death. The cloud of ash billowing out began to engulf the world. His life ended as a new fire surrounded him, and his final moments were the sound of hammer and anvil ringing out.

Garviel had been given another chance.

---

Nuri smiled to herself as she withdrew the maps viewpoint back to that of the entire planet below.

"So when do we start the reshaping of the world, and by 'we' I mean when are you going to ask me to start work as usual?" She chuckled darkly as she hopped back up onto her throne, her head now level with many of her kin, rather than having to force them to look down at her. As she'd usually speak to their torso rather than strain her neck looking upwards all the time. "Or is this going to be one of those times when we all pitch in and get a hard days work under wor belts?" she looked around those assembled as she twirled her wrench again before lightly throwing and catching it as she awaited a response

Ulmo couldn't help but chuckle at Nuri's sense of humor. She was a good goddess and have proved abnormally patient for their kind. To tell the truth, he didn't know if he would have spared the humans after nearly wiping out one of his creations, though they had proven to pollute the ocean more than he could have ever imagined. He nodded at her in thought.

"Even you cannot reshape the world on your own, Nuri. You will have the might of the Seas and its Master to work beside you, something even your toys have not matched yet," he told her, a twinkle in his eye as he good-naturedly ribbed her. After a moment, however, the Sea God turned series. He glanced at the others and continued.

"This will be a momentous undertaking. We will need every deity we can pitching in," he stated seriously before glancing at a butterfly at the edge of his vision, "And we will need someone to grant the gift of life once more."

Asiysia... It grieved his heart for her to isolate herself from her kind as well as the others. She was a beautiful creature. If any of them was perfection, it was her. He had known her since she first filled the empty depths of his kingdom with life. It was something he had never conceived of in all the eons he spent alone, but in that moment, he realized how empty his kingdom had until then. She was always so regal and so sad. He only wished...

"Enough of your inattention, Ulmo. At any other time, I would have stiked you down and took your Throne for my own. You did not have the strength to possess her in your glory, but maybe when she is gasping for breath as all life ends, eh?" Nex asked mockingly, an ugly grin ons his face. Ulmo clenched his trident.

"Just be prepared to do your part of the work, Nex!" he snapped, the floor rumbling like an earthquake or the surface of the Sea in a storm as Nex smirked and the air turned dry as desert sand.

As the aforementioned events conclude, a rustling can be heard emanating from yet another throne. This throne is constructed from intricate Tomes of varying Sizes, Cover Aesthetics, Subject Matter, and Language. The Book serving as the seat of this throne casually opens itself, revealing a swirling mass of papers. From this maelstrom of parchment emerges a humanoid figure, looking to be a man of no more than fifty, his brow wizened with great age and even greater knowledge. Upon fully dislodging himself from the throne and taking his seat upon it, the deity known as Doren Del chimes in:

"Myes, myes, what the devil is it that you all need now? I was nearly done cataloging the eighteenth century -dull period toward the end, in my opinion, but there ARE bigger things going on, so I won't hold it against them- but as I was nearing the onset of the nineteenth, I received an 'urgent' message to make my way to these chambers posthaste. Now that you've managed to pull me away from my work, and there's only more piling up for me while I'm away, what is it that you need me for?"
"Ah, the senile one has chosen to grace us with his presence," retorts Nex, "and he's got quite the mouthful for us upon entry. Well, just to let you know, your self imposed 'task' has just recently become pointless. Well, MORE pointless."
"What do you mean?" says Doren.
"I MEAN, the Humans are all about to destroy themselves in a most fiery and spectacular fashion. The bombs are flying, and when they fall, there won't be any more for you to catalog, at least not for quite some time."
"Oh..." muttered Doren, as if in shock. "Well, in that case, I'm afraid I'm only wasting time here. I've got to return to my library and finish my catalog as soon as time permits." Doren then begins to sink into his throne, but hesitates, and rises instead, saying:
"But, before I go..." he continues as he steps toward the map below "... I'm going to need help preserving their knowledge of the past..."



William was having a pleasant day. Granted, the looming threat of flying atomic death might cut said day a tad short, but all in all today was a good day. He'd had the library all to himself, an opportunity that'd not presented itself for some time. Glasgow was widely considered to be a center of culture, but that'd not been something that he'd gotten to enjoy. Perhaps it was the neighborhood he had no choice but to inhabit. His family was never poor, but they'd not have been able to afford a house in a more... pleasant community. The Community College he'd attended had a magnificent library, but it was never quite as empty as he'd have liked. He'd never functioned well in crowds, and especially not the kind of crowds the library usually attracted at about this time of year. Mouth-Breathers and Philistines packed shoulder to shoulder, studying in vain for exams they'd not bothered to prepare for. That was the only time any of their ilk could be seen in the Library, and it sickened and confounded William. How could someone be so callous to the beauty of the written word? If he'd had more time, he might have visited the art museum down the street as well, but given the levels of radiation all of Scotland was about to be bathed in, he'd been forced to choose. Alas, it was a tragedy, but there were still a great many books he'd not been able to finish in his previously brief moments of solace in the Library. He could've ran into the woods like his parents and siblings, perhaps believing that they'd be alright, but he knew better. Even if they did manage to escape the radiation, no matter how much they may have believed themselves prepared, they'd not be suited toward life in the wilderness. He wouldn't be suited to it either, but at least he was capable of recognizing it. Perhaps he'd see them again in whatever ethereal realm lay beyond his own, but that was a bridge he'd cross when he came to it.
While musing upon this, something begins to happen to the book he'd been holding. Just a moment ago, it'd been a rather weighty Anthology of Science Fiction that he'd been meaning to finish, but as he looked back at it, it began to change shape. When it had finish shifting and molding into a new structure, it looked amazing. It had a cover carved from old oak, and bound with rune-etched plates, its binding resembled links of chain forged from a dark, cold metal, and its pages were composed of the most exquisite vellum. As he finished admiring this new book, it occurred to him that opening the book might yield interesting results. He was not wrong, for when he opened the book, he saw blank pages that immediately began to write on themselves. At first, they resembled esoteric markings of a nature beyond his ken, but these began to unfurl themselves into a more familiar language. The first block of text to become fully readable turned out to be instructions. Actually, they were more like orders. They read:

"You must go to the Museum. There are important documents in its basement. More importantly, the students and teachers of the local Schools have decided to take refuge in this place. They will not be safe there. Bring them back here, and further paths will open themselves."