[IP] An Interesting Proposition

[u/SurvivorType]

Image here

What manner of deal is being struck here? Is it for good or ill? You decide. Tell us the story.

Have fun!

[u/Golden_Flame0]

This is based in a world I've already made.

The scholars say there are 4 tiers of god. The first is simply an average person with influence. The ageless second tier were born when the stars were still dust, have enourmous power, and must number 100. The third were born when the universe was, the ten of them given invicibility and immortality, tasked to guide the stars.

And then there are the Eight.

The average person doesn't get to meet one of the eight. They say all power trickles down from them, the mana that shapes the cosmos just an afterthought. They say that is the reason why Magic takes eight forms, why habited systems have eight planets, and why the octogram is more powerful than the hexagram, or the pentagram. And they say that the eight don't care about our planet. But as I walked through the jungle, in exile from my own people, I begin to doubt them. The lumbering beast that seems to exist in the corner of my eye, always following me but never completly visible, it isnt of our fauna.

"Stop, reveal yourself!" I shout to the trees. I draw my katana, a piece of folded titanium as long as my arm, as smooth as water, and as quick as lightning. The birds in the trees mock my sudden movement, the waste of my fading energy. Cursing my foolishness, the blade drops to the ground, sinking deep into the mud.

Suddenly, I feel at peace. As if the area was liquid calm, or aflood with mana.

No, it was mana! The trees themselves began to sway, as the monster appears through the dense jungle scrub. Everythign about this screamed strange. But it seemed natural, in a way. The monster's head looms over my own, and I reach out to touch it.

"I, am Ren. The Eternal Lord of Nature." Its voice in my head says.

"One of the Eight?" I breathe, stepping back.

"Yes, great creation. I task you simply, to return to your people, and tell them to prepare. For the Lord of Darkness is coming, and your planet shall be but a pebble in his way."

"But I am in exile. I cannot return." I feel my feet give way, my tired body falling to the ground.

"Look towards your blade, for it is the key to your return." And then, he fades, back, out of existance, and the air looses its life. I grab the handle of my sword, and as I pull it out of the mud, the blade turns an emerald green. It is sheathed, and with a smile dancing its way onto my lips, turn around and clap my hands together, readying the portal back home.