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asgardeventide2013-01-13 12:47 am
asgardstricks) wrote in asgardeventide2013-01-13 12:47 am
Entry tags:
- !npc,
- alastair stara,
- aleos neruyl,
- allen walker,
- archer (heroic spirit emiya),
- data!roxas,
- draco malfoy,
- euridice taverna,
- evelyn samson,
- eyes rutherford,
- fuuka yamagishi,
- gwaine,
- hisao nakai,
- inoue orihime,
- lancelot,
- leonardo,
- leonardo da vinci,
- leonie barrow,
- luka megurine,
- norman babcock,
- regina berry,
- rider (alexander the great),
- rin tohsaka,
- roxas,
- sophie gargamel,
- sora,
- the eleventh doctor,
- ushahin dreamspinner
NPC POST - LOKI - VIDEO
[This time, the bracelet will flicker on regardless of what you're doing. It's an important announcement, though Loki's sitting cross-legged on the top of his desk as if it's nothing big.]
Hey, kids. You might want to sit down, 'cause today we've got major news for you.
We're going to have Story Time With Uncle Loki, how great! Pay close attention, because this is your chance to make a big decision. You've been insisting on having input for a long time now, so we're giving you a chance. Try not to fuck it up.
[A pause, and deep breath, and he continues, eyes closed as if reciting something from memory.]
Once upon a time a world was born out of void. Whether it grew quickly or slowly doesn't matter, because "time" means nothing with nothing to keep it. Either way it grew, bigger and bigger until it was a nice, stable plane. The world was made up of magic -- so much it couldn't be contained in the stone and soil and sand. And so the world made life. Grass sprouted, trees grew, and all sorts of birds and beasts and other things came to inhabit it. But the world was still too full, and after some time the pressure led magic to burst out of the world in little fragments. The body of the world left only a few fragments, large and deeply connected to the land. These fragments took form and became the chief Giants. The soul of the world left more, smaller but brighter fragments, attuned to the spirit of the world and all the things living on it. These fragments became the first gods. The tiny splinters that showered on the world became the sapient peoples, elves and men and all their cousins under the stars.
It was given to gods and giants to care for the spirit and the body of the world, but from the beginning the two couldn't act together. The pressure that created them also splintered the world itself, and soon it began to grow many other, smaller worlds on its back. Soon it was becoming too big to support on a cracked foundation, and it was apparent that the world would eventually cease to function, leaking magic into the void until it dissolved away. But the world, for it was a living thing itself, with a broad, warm mind of its own, didn't want to die, and didn't want to see its people die with it. And so, in those very earliest days, it told its future.
One day, the gods and giants would go to war. They would die, and their magic would return to the place from which it came. The last to stand would be the Queen of Frost, and it was given to her to go to the heart of the world and give her life to freeze the world, keeping it safe in ice as it healed. When it melted, everything would be reborn, and the survivors chosen by the world would go on to create new life. But there was something else in that future. Time, it seemed, did not run straight. It twisted, curved and altered things. And so, after quite awhile, the world began to whisper:
"Perhaps," it said, "there can be healing."
And so began the true war. The Giants, long settled in the superiority of their prophesied victory, began to work to speed the foretold future. The Gods, desiring to save themselves and their people, began to work to find a cure. But a sickness came to the center of the land. Perhaps it was an illness of the world itself, perhaps it was something more sinister, but the result was the same: the land began to wither, and the magic began to seep away. The Queen of the Oldest City faded with it, and in his mourning the King began to despair. And so he went to the depths of the world, to look upon the countless child-worlds and search for answers. Perhaps, he reasoned, some of the life given to those children could be brought back to the mother. And so he and those Gods who followed him opened their very souls, binding people from the child-worlds to them and themselves to those people. The cure, it seemed, worked. It seemed that maybe, with effort, the very mother world herself could be healed.
Of course, the giants moved. Many lives were stolen from the world, among them the god whose heart desired peace more than anyone's. And so the rest mourned, as that shining essence faded to return to the world. Only something wasn't right. It was felt deep in the beings of all Gods and, surely, all Giants, but most in the soul that mirrored his. She fled, swearing vengeance on the City if she could not find her peace. And so the Gods looked again in the depths of the world, and found there the evidence of something fouler than Ragnarok itself. The Queen of Frost, it seemed, had gathered that Immortal essence. For what reasons, no one but she could possibly know. The Queen was a patient, clever being, and one who cared for her power above anything else. Then again, she was born of the world, and perhaps had her own plans to save it.
There was a choice to be made, then. To set out against the Queen and reclaim the Lost God, or to accept her plan and neutralize the Mad Goddess. The way to do either was hard, secret, and locked away in a place unreachable by the Gods, deep under the sea. Anything born of the Mother World was rejected from that place, though it held knowledge untold in all the millennia of the world. Fortunately, the Gods had on hand those born of the child-worlds, who could, for just a short time, access the Root of all Knowledge. It would be risky, and would only come at the aid of the Lady of the Sea, but it could be done. And so the Gods set this choice before their allies, and prayed that all would be well.
[He loosens his shoulders after that, suddenly all casual smiles.]
So. Will you save him, destroy her, or do nothing? This time it's up to you.
Hey, kids. You might want to sit down, 'cause today we've got major news for you.
We're going to have Story Time With Uncle Loki, how great! Pay close attention, because this is your chance to make a big decision. You've been insisting on having input for a long time now, so we're giving you a chance. Try not to fuck it up.
[A pause, and deep breath, and he continues, eyes closed as if reciting something from memory.]
Once upon a time a world was born out of void. Whether it grew quickly or slowly doesn't matter, because "time" means nothing with nothing to keep it. Either way it grew, bigger and bigger until it was a nice, stable plane. The world was made up of magic -- so much it couldn't be contained in the stone and soil and sand. And so the world made life. Grass sprouted, trees grew, and all sorts of birds and beasts and other things came to inhabit it. But the world was still too full, and after some time the pressure led magic to burst out of the world in little fragments. The body of the world left only a few fragments, large and deeply connected to the land. These fragments took form and became the chief Giants. The soul of the world left more, smaller but brighter fragments, attuned to the spirit of the world and all the things living on it. These fragments became the first gods. The tiny splinters that showered on the world became the sapient peoples, elves and men and all their cousins under the stars.
It was given to gods and giants to care for the spirit and the body of the world, but from the beginning the two couldn't act together. The pressure that created them also splintered the world itself, and soon it began to grow many other, smaller worlds on its back. Soon it was becoming too big to support on a cracked foundation, and it was apparent that the world would eventually cease to function, leaking magic into the void until it dissolved away. But the world, for it was a living thing itself, with a broad, warm mind of its own, didn't want to die, and didn't want to see its people die with it. And so, in those very earliest days, it told its future.
One day, the gods and giants would go to war. They would die, and their magic would return to the place from which it came. The last to stand would be the Queen of Frost, and it was given to her to go to the heart of the world and give her life to freeze the world, keeping it safe in ice as it healed. When it melted, everything would be reborn, and the survivors chosen by the world would go on to create new life. But there was something else in that future. Time, it seemed, did not run straight. It twisted, curved and altered things. And so, after quite awhile, the world began to whisper:
"Perhaps," it said, "there can be healing."
And so began the true war. The Giants, long settled in the superiority of their prophesied victory, began to work to speed the foretold future. The Gods, desiring to save themselves and their people, began to work to find a cure. But a sickness came to the center of the land. Perhaps it was an illness of the world itself, perhaps it was something more sinister, but the result was the same: the land began to wither, and the magic began to seep away. The Queen of the Oldest City faded with it, and in his mourning the King began to despair. And so he went to the depths of the world, to look upon the countless child-worlds and search for answers. Perhaps, he reasoned, some of the life given to those children could be brought back to the mother. And so he and those Gods who followed him opened their very souls, binding people from the child-worlds to them and themselves to those people. The cure, it seemed, worked. It seemed that maybe, with effort, the very mother world herself could be healed.
Of course, the giants moved. Many lives were stolen from the world, among them the god whose heart desired peace more than anyone's. And so the rest mourned, as that shining essence faded to return to the world. Only something wasn't right. It was felt deep in the beings of all Gods and, surely, all Giants, but most in the soul that mirrored his. She fled, swearing vengeance on the City if she could not find her peace. And so the Gods looked again in the depths of the world, and found there the evidence of something fouler than Ragnarok itself. The Queen of Frost, it seemed, had gathered that Immortal essence. For what reasons, no one but she could possibly know. The Queen was a patient, clever being, and one who cared for her power above anything else. Then again, she was born of the world, and perhaps had her own plans to save it.
There was a choice to be made, then. To set out against the Queen and reclaim the Lost God, or to accept her plan and neutralize the Mad Goddess. The way to do either was hard, secret, and locked away in a place unreachable by the Gods, deep under the sea. Anything born of the Mother World was rejected from that place, though it held knowledge untold in all the millennia of the world. Fortunately, the Gods had on hand those born of the child-worlds, who could, for just a short time, access the Root of all Knowledge. It would be risky, and would only come at the aid of the Lady of the Sea, but it could be done. And so the Gods set this choice before their allies, and prayed that all would be well.
[He loosens his shoulders after that, suddenly all casual smiles.]
So. Will you save him, destroy her, or do nothing? This time it's up to you.
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