then it becomes, it becomes, it becomes a problem, then--

[monzun]

Monzun watches over their people. They teach their Creature. That was all they knew and all they really wanted initially, when they were freshly-created, and perhaps it ever would have been if another god's cruelty hadn't cut in.

Their goal had never been to be the only god. It was that, and then it had been surviving to oppose Nemesis, and now he was gone, and it seemed they were the only regardless.

("Eh, screw 'em! What've other gods been but trouble for us, huh?")

("Well...It is a bit lonely. And Khazar's actions are the only reason we're around today, isn't that right?")

The power of the Creeds trickle back alongside the power of the people. And then torrents, and a flood. The Miracles they use grow stronger beyond even Wonders' assistance.

Generations of their people live and proliferate and die, and Monzun's strength doesn't waver, but increases even as the populations settle lower than the war efforts and post-war burst their levels to being.

("Yeah! We're badass! Even if it could use a lil more fireballin' to make all this peace more exciting, Boss.")

 Their Creature and people are safe. They revel in being only gentle without consequence but worshippers' occasional disrespect, and they find they care little about that--unless they harm others in their village, and then Creature gentle scolding or abrupt relocation across the land tends to work nearly as well as lightning would have.

Their intervention is needed less even as they notice more. Little beacons where their people were, somewhere well beyond the seas, still worshipping where it once couldn't reach. 

And something else. A shard of something.

Another...another god? Near their people? The numbers waver, some converting to the other, fewer converting to Monzun, as reasonable without them there to demonstrate their power. 

They need to look. 

("Could be a fresh threat we need to squash.")

("Or they may be a new god in need of a Guide?")

A fragment of them even hopes...

...

...Nemesis' brutality means their consciences say nothing while their Teleports are slowly practiced until they look something closer to a Vortex the old gods used.

It's not quite as large. Redder. But far more than a simple Teleport.

The day comes where they reach across the Lands and place it where they sense their lingering people and that god.

("Let's go!")

("It's so exciting! But we don't need to rush quite yet--")

Monzun takes some time to look over their nearest people and discuss. Khazar brought them Disciples; they could bring some possibly willing to convert to another, although they seem confused by the conversation. Do any of theirs know Miracles? Oh? Yes? One of Sable's decedents picked up the Wood Miracle, they hadn't realized that was possible--

A part of them is distant, distant, distant.

Monzun reaches for their Creature and finds they stare down into the Vortex.

Ah. 

It seems their impatience was noticed and acted upon.





In another part of Eden, a Vortex opened on the side of a mountain that Monzun's old Temple still stands on. The air splits with a shocked bellow as a massive Leopard Creature steps onto nothing and tumbles down into the water.

Ouch.

Only a little ouch. It wasn't that far, but Sweetheart wasn't expecting it. She stands and shakes the water off a little--oooh, fish. Scoops up a handful of fresh fish to eat, and then turns around to claw up the mountain to peek over the edge.

There are a few people! Worshipping wrong, or maybe just frightened. That's okay. She's pretty different now. She doesn't mind when they take off running when they un-freeze.

...Most of the trees she grew are missing. She doesn't like that, she worked hard on those.

She climbs up all the way--oh, the Temple's smaller, or she's so big as to match?--and immediately gets to Miracle Watering the withered ones in the worship sites left.

Comments

[lethys]

For decades following the thunderous implosion of silence that echoed from a distant place, Lethys was nothing if not cautious. This was nothing to prove Nemesis was gone; nothing to say this wasn't some newly-implemented skill in his arsenal to hide himself away and burn back down on Eden and itsremaining gods like a meteor strike the moment the world's guard was down.

Even so, Nemesis' hand might be stayed by proving his usefulness for a little longer. And beyond that, survival first. So in those first decades, rather than resting on his scant, pitiable laurels, Lethys picked up the pieces of his last bastion of faith, kept his guard up, and eventually ventured down from the lofty peak territory of his retreat.

The two peoples of the plains were few, especially those closest, but that meant they were amenable to what little aid and few boons Lethys could offer in his diminished state - and anyway they remembered him, in handed-down history. Perhaps some mortal guilt remained in their blood at their own conversion.

None remained in the rest, as far as Lethys could tell from his probing. And probe he did, though caution kept any real godly actions close to his temple and away from the further villages, until more than a few generations had come and gone. No matter how much his proximity to the void chilled him, and no matter his fears of Nemesis somehow returning to find him idle, the thought of seizing villages in the same rush as before has been somewhat soured.

Lethys is not the only one with a change of habit. Laetes takes to roaming - or more accurately, pacing long, loping miles between the villages. He stops when his god orders him to, waiting with a distant stare and bared jaws, only to wander again, restless, when Lethys' attention is pulled elsewhere. Waiting for something, or perhaps worrying about something. Any similarities to Lethys' own behaviour is missed by both.

It is during one of these tense, explorative wanderings that Laetes' ears prick up in alarm and his head snaps around to pin his eyes firmly on the distant shape of the enemy's temple. After barely a moment's consideration, he begins a beeline - but a god is always faster than a Creature, and in top frantic form, an icy-blue streak passes overhead.

An intangible glow of belief and power does not skid to a halt, though perhaps a particularly eccentric poet might describe it that way when Lethys comes to an abrupt stop in the sky beside the Temple.

Several hundred thoughts and fears push to the front of his mind and begin to line up in order of likelihood as he simply hangs in the air and watches, laser-focused, as the gigantic Leopard gardens the Temple of Monzun.

Lethys is unable to come up with anything to say. Still, older Creatures are cleverer than to be underestimated. He manages something - eventually.

"You," he addresses her, "Creature." There is another long, cavernous pause, and the next part comes out far more uncertain. "What is your business here?"

[lethys]

There are few affairs that might be called tradition among gods; their natures are very often too different, and reigns that last for millenia can sometimes make tradition feel quaint. But the cyclical nature of night and day does lend itself to planning things at certain times. A god does not need a flair for the dramatic to recognise that many natural things begin at dawn, or else begin at dusk, or span the brief window of time between.

At the mountain pass that leads from the lowland village to the nearby mountain, the inscrutable glow of winter-blue glinting by the sheer cliff face declares that Lethys has chosen a time shortly before dawn.

The swirl of his symbol hangs perfectly still over the dark ground, silent and unmoving as if it did not belong to a thinking mind at all.

A little way off, the soft thudding of impossibly-sized wolf pads draws nearer. Laetes has been instructed to go quietly, and so he is being unusually careful while passing through the warren of little human houses, striding slowly and methodically by buildings and through fields (despite his efforts, leaving some rather large paw-prints of broken crops in his wake). The sound only wakes a few, and not enough to cause much of a stir.

He finally catches up with his god and slows to a halt, peering silently up at Lethys with sharp, contemplative eyes. Maybe he would like to ask, but even Laetes suspects his god doesn't know what will happen today, either. Their mutual uncertainty is best kept to silence.

Lethys doesn't move. He is waiting, but not only for Laetes.

From here, the bright cold light of his symbol stands out like a star in the night from the vantage of Monzun's temple, especially painted against the backdrop of the dark cliff behind him. He is deliberately obvious.

There is no doubt that Monzun will see him. How soon they're ready to get on with whatever strange challenge they and their own Creature have agreed upon is entirely up to them. Although - Lethys may be aware of some perceived hierarchy, but he won't wait forever.