Once upon a time there was a man turned god. He was small and sharp and used what little breath he had to start battles. He had a friend, a man with a wolf’s smile, who finished them.
Around them, a bigger war started, one that plunged their land into violence and decay. The man turned god wanted to fight, wanted to curl his golden fists and stop it empty handed. The man with the wolf’s smile did not want to fight. Wolves don’t fight until they have to, until they want to survive, until they want to protect. The man with the wolf’s smile, prompted by the man turned god, enlisted for war.
The man with the wolf’s smile was good at war. There was a certain fierce pleasure to be taken when a bullet hit home, as he sat tucked into the trees. The first time he used a knife to slice a man throat, his blood sang with fierce victory.
Yes, the man with the wolf’s smile was good at death, both giving it and evading it, but a wolf is always caught sometime.
An animal trap of lungs burning and ragged screams, the man with the wolf’s smile smiled no more, bared his teeth instead in a grimace, in a snarl.
This man, with teeth like knives, had one weakness–the man who turned god, the man he thought of as gentle and good.
The man who turned god followed war like a lover–there was no gentleness in his broad hands.
The man of science saw the good and saw the violence and told the man who turned god, I will turn you into a weapon.
The man who turned god listened, and made his choice.
The man walked small into the machine aided by the woman with blood on her lips and the man who was creator, and stepped out large, stepped out turned into a god, into spun gold.
There was an unreality to the man who turned god now. Eyes too blue like a banked sea, muscled legs moving with the power that was always hidden inside of him. A godling, this man became. A man who would become legend and myth.
He became a circus show, an act to promote war but not to wage it, and the man who turned god was many things, violent, angry, reckless and stubborn, but he was honest and this felt like a lie.
It felt like a lie until the day the woman with blood on her lips sat with him for his next show, until the man who was in charge told them, The 107th is taken and the man who turned god heard, The man with a wolf’s smile is gone.
The woman with blood on her mouth took one look at the man who turned god and let him loose.
And here was the thing, wolves were dangerous, feral creatures. Wolves were loyal, protective, survivors. They wreak havoc in their own right for their pack, leave blood and bodies in their path.
But here was the other thing–nothing compared to the destruction done by gods. A god can be merciful–and the man who turned god did have mercy on the others trapped. He let them go, and like predators they unleashed carnage. The man who turned god favored one most of all and it was he that he went to. It was he that he saw, strapped down, eyes blank.
It was he that he touched, hands large on his shoulder and the man with a wolf’s smile stared up, up at him and said, I thought you were smaller. The man who turned god became gentle and the man who was not smiling at all leaned heavily against him.
There was a man with the man with a wolf’s smile. Another man of science, this one, standing with a man who had delusions of a god. A man of science who didn’t ask permission to change a man into a weapon.
The man with a wolf’s smile was a weapon long before the man with science got to him. The man with a wolf’s smile wanted nothing more than to rip the man with science’s throat out with his teeth, but he and the man who thought himself a god disappeared in the smoke.
Behind them, a true god’s destruction reigns complete, and they jumped, together, a god and his wolf.
War was not pretty or victorious or a path to righteous glory. It was dirty and dark and blood and mud caked under fingernails, grit stuck between your teeth.
But, the man who turned god had followers and the man with a wolf’s smile had pack. For them, when all they ever had was each other, it was good. It was the happiest times of their lives.
And then the man with a wolf’s smile fell.
And then, the man who turned god became the god of war, Ares willing to burn the world down to get him back. The woman with blood on her mouth, with blood on her teeth and dark eyes, turned it inward, and instead the man who turned god destroyed himself.
And this was how the man who turned god became legend, myth, a story to tell children as they grew.
The woman with blood on her mouth became the woman with blood on her hands in a war that never openly shed blood.
As the god slept, the man with a wolf’s smile became lone, feral wolf.
As the god slept, the feral wolf taught a girl who was spider his tricks.
As the god slept, the spider escaped her web and learned to create her own, and a man, just a man, showed her the benefits of being human.
As the god slept, a man born of the creator turned himself into a man of iron.
As the god slept, another god, far older and far wiser and far more bloodthirsty than he made Earth his dwelling for a brief time.
As the god slept, a man who turned beast wreaked the destruction of gods.
As the god slept, a man with wings lost another to fire and explosion.
And then, the god woke, and a new era was born, one where a spider, a man, an iron weapon, a beast, and another god came together, then drifted apart.
The man who turned god did the duty of a man with no choice, then did the duty of a man born to violence. The spider stayed. The spider stayed and saw something familiar, something like the feral wolf of long past.
Here, the man who turned god met the man with wings who was wingless, and the man who turned god loved the man with wings because the man with wings did not treat the man who turned god like a god. He did not worship him. The man who turned god had plenty of those, and none of the others. (The spider turned her web–the man who turned god was almost caught).
Later, later, everything fell apart. The man with one eye, fearsome and important like an ancient god, was dead, and the spider followed the man who turned god to the man with wings.
Following them was a man who was friend, a man who tricked and killed. A man who cornered the man turned god and, eyes mean and dark, hissed, It’s nothing personal.
There was another man too. A shadow man, and he pulled more strings than a spider, had them all in his web. An old god, this man, a titan.
The man who turned god ran with the spider and the man with wings, ran until they couldn’t because a wolf was in the road. A muzzled wolf with gleaming silver, who tried to sink his teeth into the man who turned god’s neck, who tried to slit his throat, until the man who turned god tore the muzzle off his face and.
There was silence.
The man who turned god said the man with the wolf’s smiles name. There was no recognition in the wolf’s eyes, and he was gone.
Then there was noise.
The man who was friend shackled them all.
The spider said to the man who turned god, It isn’t your fault.
The man who turned god did not say a word.
Later, an ancient god reborn, one eye staring them down.
Later, a spider destroyed her own web.
Later, a titan overthrown by an ancient god with one eye.
During, the man who turned god and the wolf fight, blood against blood. What the wolf was made to forget was this: a god always wins. A god looked at a wolf who was made from a titan, and the god looked at the man with a wolf’s smile, and the god put them together.
A wolf remembered.
A wolf saved a god.
They did not live happily ever after. But they survived.
you are the BARD of DOOM in the LAND OF HELLFIRE AND DECAY and boy you feel like home,hypothetically speaking.your land is nothing but a hot,putrid,and terrifying hellscape and you are enjoying every minute of it
your land is pretty barren,only scorched trees populating the surface.the sky is pitch black,lit up by what appears to be hellfire.ocassionally the earth cracks and splits apart,revealing more hellfire! ..but this time various decayed bodies are crawling out of the pits,unaffected by the unholy fire theyre engulfed in have fun with those things it stinks of burnt corpses,rotten meat,and brimstone,but you never seemed to mind any of those,since you smell like 2/3 of those things on a daily basis
quest: your land,as your name suggests,is a living hell.you must delve deep into the planet’s core and bargain with your denizen to stop the fires,or at least free those poor zombified motherfuckers and return them to their previous state of living.however,this quest sounds too smart and orderly for your taste so you end up killling the shit out of everything for funsies….surprsingly,,the plan works,partly.
imps and whatnot: you see those hell beasts in the far off distance? yeah,have fun with those
‘ only scar the parts of you people can’t see, my dear. if the LIGHT cannot touch it, it can be ignored. ‘ motherly warmth mingles with the knife-edge of a sharpened tongue, a weapon now her hands had grown weary, now her lands had diminished into decay. she offers a smile that speaks of union, but her hands are clasped upon her stomach. she is not one to be left defenseless.
You are the Rogue of Time on your planet, the Land of Hands and Decay (LOHAD).
You enter your first portal and are met with outstretched arms without bodies. They are grow out of the uneven plains ahead of you like stalks of corn, but they all direct themselves towards you. Uncertain and uncomfortable, you proceed along the dusty path laid out in front of you, but each hand that you pass begins to wave frantically. You find a clearing inhabited by your consorts, and they whisper that your denizin had found them unsightly and placed a curse on them. Soon, they will all decay and be forever gone, but once the hands are gone, the planet will begin to wither away. Your job is to master your abilities as a Rogue and provide extra time for the hands on the Land of Hands and Decay.
you are the SEER of TIME in the LAND OF CLOCKWORK AND RUST and you feel like dying,seriously.the rust in the air is terrible for your lungs.by the look of your decaying land you wont be leaving your house too soon.just as you planned…
various machineries and gears scatter your land ,ticking and puffing and what not.a good majority of the machines,however,stopped working.the gears arent moving anymore,all because of your stupid denizen who cursed the entire metallic land to rust slowly.it’s terrible.nothing appales you more than rusting metals,hell! your right leg is made out of metal! how could you not hate this land! the only good thing is your scratch construct,which is supposed to be in the center of your land,under the appearance of A HUGE ASS SYNTH,damn,you love synths.
quest: other than cleansing the land of rust youre not really sure what you can do on this piece of shit.the machines? you know how they work,your consorts know damn well how they work,and to your luck,they all work perfectly fine….erm…minus the rusting part
but..whats the use of cleaning the rust when you never leave the house? ;)
goal: in the meantime you set your own goal here,your own self made personal quest…and that is…… *drumroll* doing jack shit! yep,you heard it! the only thing youre good at for now is just sitting back and relaxing while looking at your other friends doing their quests and shit through your system of screens,and when the right time comes,you will be there (not physically of course) to guide them throughout the session.easy as pie!
consorts: silver alligators
imps and whatnot: they keep piling up around your house so you need to take some measures soon
“Forests, lakes, mountains. Link must fight many enemies in a beautiful and natural world. We can be pretty certain, however, that some good-natured people living in these places will help him out and be his allies in his fight against evil.”
-The Legend of Zelda Manual
The Overworld is the name given to Hyrule’s countryside, littered with dense forests, vast lakes and rivers, harrowing mountain ranges and sprawling grasslands. The Overworld is an ancient place, scattered with an array of abandoned crypts and dungeons and sparsely inhabited by mankind, allowing forces of magic to thrive and dwell. However, Ganon’s corruption has caused the lands to begin to decay and has severely weakened the myriad of spells and beings that once protected the land from such power. The mystical protective relic known as the Triforce has also been stolen, contributing to Hyrule’s demise. Fairies have been driven out of their once lush and and beautiful forest homes, now reduced to stench-filled, rotting jungles with evil permeating from every tree. Lakes, rivers and ponds turn out tons of mysteriously dead fish, the dead rise from their slumber to roam the earth once more and worst of all, Ganon’s army of beasts and demons have taken over the land, killing everything that gets in their way. Hyrule’s Overworld has become a dark, dangerous and sinister place. One in desperate need of a hero.
Belle and Rumple fought all they could to keep their little girl. Each time Hades had found a way to change the rules. Both decided to stay in the Underworld till they could get their child back. However, they were banned from seeing her.
Hades, was going to use the child in a spell to go back in time but when the baby was born, he took the child and besides the power it offered, he thought the child would make a good example o why the underworld needed to remain hopeless. For with every bit of hope, something grew in the land of decay.