Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time, during an age that only the stony crests of the mountains remember, the world was little more than black chaos. There was no light, and no heat, and there was no darkness and no cold. There was no ground beneath your feet, and no roof to this world that did not even exist. For us, in our modern world, this complete nothingness is incomprehensible, but nevertheless, it existed. Until the Four Deities found this emptiness, and they combined their powers. Earth, fire, water, and air, flawlessly fused to create our home, and then us.
We were clumsy, primitive, feral. We were imperfect and flawed, and we were lost. We stumbled our way through the world, blind and underdeveloped, but they never left us. As Gods, they guided us, and shaped us. When we blundered towards the fire, the Deities placed a hand on our shoulders and turned us aside. They showed us how to walk in the light of the flame, but not fall in. Through the eons they helped us grow, and they loved us like a mother dotes upon their children. Unimaginable time had passed, and although the Deities didn't age as beings of the purest power, they began to feel their years. They were jealous of the creatures that they had created, and they longed to abdicate from their power to walk among us as equals.
So they did. Each one abandoned their power, and their immortality, and they took mortal bodies. Not once did any of the Deities regret their decision, as each one took a mortal partner, and bore a single child. Unknowingly, the concentrated power that still coursed through their veins was granted to their offspring. The power of the Deities lived on, even after their mortal bodies aged and weakened, within the descendants of the Four Original Deities. The power of each Deity was passed on into their children, and their children's children, and so on.
But we were still young. We knew not that our Deities walked among us, and we continued to obliviously worship them in our caves and our temples. Each individual loved the Deities without restraint, except a few. Across the world, there were people who resisted, who refused to bow to the great powers that had fathered them. They were not blind as we were. They sensed the power that graced the world, and they wanted it for their own. Together, they sought out the descendants of the Deities and caught them, knowing that not even the Blooded knew their power, and they partook in a sample of blood from each Deity.
Then came the change. In consuming the raw power that ran in the blood of the children they had captured, the non believers had bared their souls to the river of power, and they forfeited them. Humanity was taken from them. Their right to death of age was taken from them and each individual who had tasted that forbidden delicacy fell into darkness, and became mockeries of the creatures that they had dreamed of becoming. The children escaped. Those individuals, soulless and inhuman, fell prey to an inconsolable addiction. With the loss of their souls, those individuals whose empty eyes gave them the name Demon, found that only one thing would sate the curse of their persistent agony - the Blood of the Deities. And this was the birth of the Demons, and they were doomed forever to roam the Earth and hunt the Blooded.
Time passed. The Deities lived on, and so did the Demons. The scent of the power faded, and the Demons grew weak. They knew then that if they did not consume that raw power, they would loose their newly found powers. They would be condemned to an eternity in a wasted body, as their minds screamed in the agony that their addiction had gifted them with. But the scent was gone, and so was their hope. As the only way to conserve what little energy they still possessed, many of the Demons became dormant, and they waited. We worshiped our Deities, still, though their active influence was gone from the Earth.
Just as all hope for the Demon's was about to fade, the scent returned. It was strong, and swift, and undeniable, and the chase began. The need was irresistible, but they were so very weak, and it took them so long to find those that they hunted. And when they found the Blooded ones, their power had grown. It was stronger as the Blooded knew what it was that they possessed. Their was a battle, and many Demons were vanquished back to the shadows. The Deities won, but as they were injured when they left the scene of the battle, puddles of their blood congealed with the dirt on the stone that they had won on. Reduced to mindless beasts, the weakened Demons took what blood they could.
Thus was the pattern for the ages that came to pass. The Demons would roam the Earth, their powers weakened, and they would wait to catch just a hint of the scent. And then they would hunt. But each time they chose a direct approach, and attacked the Blooded, they failed, and their numbers were diminished further. Until four Demons came together. The Vulture, The Spider, The Snake and the Wolf formed a pact of their own precious blood that they would capture the Blooded before they truly became aware of the infinite power that they possessed. As the strongest Demons, their pact was irrevocable. They schemed that they would gain the trust of the Blooded, and teach them so that the power would become strong, and then they would strike at the crucial moment.
Source: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/RolePlayGateway/~3/E3E1YqEZlIw/viewtopic.phpTags: carrie underwood Romain Dauriac Espn.com evelyn lozada cedar point
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