Intermission: The Divine Marionettes

Somewhere, on a completely isolated plane of existence, there was the sound of banters, of laughter and quarrels. There was the sound of dice being cast, of cards being dealt and of game pieces being moved.

There was a giant table with nine legs and the color of ebony, on the table, a plethora of curious objects could be seen. A humongous tapestry covered the entirety of the table surface, woven together with dew-like material, colors of blue, of green, of crimson and all the colors of the world.

The world.

The world that they created. They, the 6 divine beings, those who have ascended from the mortal world with unknown, indescribable methods - power, lust, greed, or maybe it's their own selfish desires.

Everything was fitted inside the Cycle - life and death. Those who were born will one day return to death. Their souls scattered, purified and cleansed back to a blank canvas, mixed and matched with other pieces of souls and finally returned to the living world, inside another creature, perhaps. 

But not them, they who created the world. They are invincible, impervious to all deterioration, wandering the empty plane of existence without any goals. They are eternal. Are they truly living or do they just exist? No one can answer that, not they themselves know the answer.

Naturally, it is boring just to exist.

And it was Tymora - the goddess of good fortune and adventure, who made up the first game to be played on the mystical plane of the gods. A creation contest, or so it seemed. They were to build something that they wanted, and then share it with the other gods. Gond - the god of craft, took the initiative and raised an ebony table out of thin air. Nine legs it had, with all kinds of carving and etchings. 

"Put them on here" He commanded "Those that do not fit this table will not be counted"

A selfish declaration, but not one argued. They were all enthralled, focused on what they wanted to create. 

Tymora, with a flick of the hand and a youthful laugh, summoned a roll of woven tapestry. She let it roll on the table surface, revealing a bland, white canvas. Then one, two and three claps, the tapestry changed color, first was a deep red crimson, then dusty gray on top, and finally ochre yellow, covering the whole thing. The patterns were seemingly random, unidentifiable, some were protruding upward and created mountains and hills, some sunken deep, creating chasms and basins. Then there was a gentle blue, creeping from the edge of the canvas, wriggling around the ochre, filling basins and chasms and apertures. Came green, lusting, refreshing green. 

"You… are…not playing fair…little Tymora…" said a radiantly beautiful woman, her hair red, her eyes blue. A smile so kind yet so mysterious. Indescribable. One could say her beauty is out of this world. "You created…so many…things…"

"Nuh uh! I said, "Create what you want!" Tymora snorted, poking her tongue out playfully.

"Very… well… then… "

Sune, the goddess of love and beauty, leaned down on the lusty green land and gently blew a long breath on it. A mystical fog encroached the land, and the first life was introduced. Wild animals, primordial races and unseen creatures have found themselves a place to inhabit. And they multiply so quickly, so fast, clearing out the green, gathering the gray and covering the ochre. 

"My… little… something…" Sune said suggestively.

It was then two gods stepped on both sides of the square table, they eyed each other and nodded, as if some form of communication was established between the pair. 

Myrkul and Lathander - the god of death and god of birth and renewal, both snapped their fingers. Immediately, living things started to perish, constructions weathered and destroyed. But their numbers kept up, one civilization fell, another one stood in its place.

"Gond, my dearest craftsman…" Lathander smiled

"Alright alright… you don't have to ask…" Gond replied, eyes closed as if tired. He rubbed his hands together over the land and a powder poured out of his palm. The sentient creatures then had access to the intricate art of crafting and smithing and building. Tools were made for constructing and sewing and gathering, weapons were made for hunting and fighting monsters.

Fighting monsters? What about between the races blessed with intelligence?

It was then that Myrkul looked longingly at Tempus, the last of the Gods, the one who hadn't brought something to the table.

"Fine." Tempus scoffed. 

And then war broke out in the land between.

Tymora chuckled, sproinked excitedly and introduced the second game to the gaggle of Gods.