Necromantic
You faker than some Sweet 'N Low
"My child...You were not meant to die so soon."
That's the first thing you hear when you wake up, bewildered by the situation you were in. Oh, yeah. That's right. You'd just died- By murder, of illness, suicide, whatever it was, you could distinctly remember how you'd just died. But, then, why were you here? The deity speaking to you gently carreses your cheek, affectionately, and yet you can see sadness in their eyes. They regret something, and you can tell.
"And for that, I'm sorry. Your purpose in life was ended, due to my own negligence."
What was he talking about?
"I can't give you your old life back, so I hope you'll accept this as an apology. I'm going to give you and the others a new world, for you to do as you please with, in your ideal form. You will be the Gods of your new world. Enjoy your new life, please have fun."
You have so many questions. And yet, he doesn't give you time to ask any of them, as if he doesn't consider those important. Perhaps they aren't important. He vanishes, leaving you in a banquet hall filled will food, and several other newly born Gods. At the head of the table, there's a book, surrounded by several jars containing lights that glitter like gems but but float around as if they're alive. Perhaps they bring back childhood memories, of catching fireflies and keeping them in a jar. Each one has a name on them, signifying who they're meant for. Off to the side sits a gem, which glows like the moon and sits atop a note that says Skyler Michaels, for creation of the Underworld.
The book is open to a page.
What's contained in these jars are called Sparks of Life. They are used to create souls for the races that you will be creating. The yellow ones are used to create sentient mortal life, while the white ones (not pictured) are used for animals. There's a fixed number of yellow souls to initially create your people with, while white ones will replenish over time so that you may continue to create new species of fauna as you see fit. Think carefully when making the mortal life, as you will not be able to create a new mortal race without harvesting the souls of mortals to recycle them. Only a God of Death may perform such actions. Each one of you has been provided with a jar containing a sufficient amount of Sparks of Life to create a population of your own people. The Sparks of Life will only react to the person they're designated for
This book will record all events that happen in this world, without the need for any of you to write it down. Anything important, such as the races you make (so anything posted in the Book of the World), will be marked with a bookmark for ease of finding information.
Go forth, my children, and fulfill the purpose you were always meant to.
That's the first thing you hear when you wake up, bewildered by the situation you were in. Oh, yeah. That's right. You'd just died- By murder, of illness, suicide, whatever it was, you could distinctly remember how you'd just died. But, then, why were you here? The deity speaking to you gently carreses your cheek, affectionately, and yet you can see sadness in their eyes. They regret something, and you can tell.
"And for that, I'm sorry. Your purpose in life was ended, due to my own negligence."
What was he talking about?
"I can't give you your old life back, so I hope you'll accept this as an apology. I'm going to give you and the others a new world, for you to do as you please with, in your ideal form. You will be the Gods of your new world. Enjoy your new life, please have fun."
You have so many questions. And yet, he doesn't give you time to ask any of them, as if he doesn't consider those important. Perhaps they aren't important. He vanishes, leaving you in a banquet hall filled will food, and several other newly born Gods. At the head of the table, there's a book, surrounded by several jars containing lights that glitter like gems but but float around as if they're alive. Perhaps they bring back childhood memories, of catching fireflies and keeping them in a jar. Each one has a name on them, signifying who they're meant for. Off to the side sits a gem, which glows like the moon and sits atop a note that says Skyler Michaels, for creation of the Underworld.
The book is open to a page.
This book will record all events that happen in this world, without the need for any of you to write it down. Anything important, such as the races you make (so anything posted in the Book of the World), will be marked with a bookmark for ease of finding information.
Go forth, my children, and fulfill the purpose you were always meant to.
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