In the realms of the Gods, where countless divine and not-quite-divine creatures existed, each god was unique. While many shared similar interests and hobbies, like minded deities often formed guilds or organizations. Some were dedicated to remarkable pursuits, controlling the great forces of nature, such as the Great Wind Ventus Ecclesiarch or the Society of Oceanus.
Others focused on more mundane or personal interests. There was the venerated Duck Watching League, the powerful Village Members Association, and even the new but wildly popular Fencing Association, a game in which opposing teams took turns seeing how long they could sit on a fence.
The highest ranking gods were typically occupied with governing the realm through the High Council, but that didn't stop some from participating in lesser events and hobbies. The great and mighty Dynamite Blood Axe, often worshipped for his raw destructiveness, was one such example. A permanent member of the council tasked with moderating interdimensional conflicts, he was also a passionate beekeeper.
A god's status and literal power were ultimately determined by creation and worship, which shared a runaway relationship. The more worshipped, admired, and beloved a god became, the more powerful their essence grew. Creatures born of a god held a natural affinity for their creator, often regarding them as a parental figure. Though that didn't stop creatures such as goblins, ogres, and the ever fickle humans from granting their worship to others.
It was well known among the divine realms that the surest path to adoration was through creation. Gods with long lists of successful creations were held in high esteem. As a result, many spent unfathomable amounts of time dedicated to the crafting and cultivation of new and unique life forms.
Of course, all of this operated on the timescale of immortals. Being divine beings of wit and intellect did not inherently mean they were clever, and many gods were inclined to work at their own pace. Long stretches of reflection, meditation, or aimless distraction were often punctuated by brief but intense periods of progress, growth, or accidental regression.
A god could only continue to create as long as their soul had the capacity for it. The more love and worship they received, the more their soul expanded, allowing for greater acts of creation. It was, by design, a paradox and perhaps even a touch cruel.
Turi herself was the creator of a curious creature. A species of sentient Turnip called Nipnips that grew in soil and eventually made their way to emerging above soil. Although early in societal development, the one colony she has nurtured have been able to develop rudimentary hovels in soil. Turi, creating a sentient Turnip, was not unexpected or surprising. Turnips were core to her being and soul, during the essencing phase of creation, she added several of her own Turnips into the mix, imbuing the little creatures strongly with her imprint.
Calm Breeze at this point in his existence, being several millennia old at this point and considered young, had possessed only one creature he could claim as his own. An odd little duck, it was small and gelatinous, slightly blue tinged, formless, transparent and seemingly completely brainless. It was the unfortunate result of Calm Breeze suddenly having to sneeze during the essencing phase, resulting in the ill-fated result. Generally, Gods are given some leeway, a do-over, if the first attempt ends in failure, Calm wasn't fortunate enough to get it though. Remarkably, to Calm's horror, the bubbling, brainless creature managed to coalesce into existence, and they imprinted on each other.
Young gods were typically granted special access and support for their first creation as a way to help them establish standing. When the result was a failure, it often led to years of embarrassment and stagnation.
But today, Calm Breeze was determined to change all of that. He would correct the misstep of his first attempt. Afterward, he would surely be promoted, awarded his own immaculate estate, and granted a legion of loyal servants. He was certain of it.
His plan was ready. It was flawless.
Turi looked at him and smirked.
"There... it's perfect."
Calm stared into the mirror and nodded. His disguise was complete.
Using the juice of her turnips, Turi had concocted a red dye and used it to color Calm's naturally dark hair. He now wore a white tunic typically associated with reincarnation workers. Perched on his face were a pair of immaculate, black-rimmed sunglasses. He was sure no one would recognize him. Seeing himself like this stirred an unfamiliar sense of unease, his disguise was cunning, perhaps too cunning, he didn't want other Gods to get the wrong idea of him.
He turned to Turi.
"Thank you for coming to your senses and helping."
He gave a confident smirk.
"When I become a powerful member of the Council, I won't forget this."
Turi stood silently for a moment. Her eyes closed, and she smiled brightly.
"Oh, of course. I just hope you remember little me when you're too busy ruling the realm."
Her voice was hinged with sarcasm and amusement, although Calm was oblivious to it.
"So. What's next, oh mighty God Calm?"
He coughed gently.
She must finally be starting to understand.
Reaching into his pocket, Calm withdrew a palm-sized gem, bluish and opaque, with a dark core at its center.
"With this," he declared, brandishing it with a grin.
It was a rare crystal, composed of pure magical essence. Valuable to mages and casters alike, it was sometimes used as payment for entry into a private crucible, though this was generally frowned upon. Still, with the upcoming games straining the realm's resources, exceptions were not unheard of.
Calm had acquired it while cleaning up the remnants of a particularly unpleasant creature. Perhaps its former owner had simply forgotten it. Regardless, Calm couldn't risk using it openly. Questions would follow. Where had he gotten it? What else did he have? Had he been scrounging through discarded magical debris? Was he accustomed to trash diving? That kind of rumor could be devastating.
Turi stared at him for several seconds, her expression unreadable. Calm's smile began to falter.
Then her face split into a wide grin.
"BAHAHAHA."
Her laughter echoed through the cottage, rattling its foundation. Before Calm could interject, she hunched over, holding up two fingers as she struggled to breathe.
"This is your plan? Really? How long have you been working on this..? since lunch?"
Calm's expression didn't change. He waited. Her laughter gradually subsided, and the two gods stared silently at one another, blinking occasionally.
"Well?" Turi finally said.
Calm sighed.
"Shut up and let's go."
He tossed her a jacket and stepped out of the cottage.