This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/xviila on 2025-06-30 12:17:56+00:00.

“There! There he is. The strange creature.”

The gods looked at the scrying circle, showing them their creation.

“Why is he walking in the woods, can he not live underground?” asked the Stone-Father, God of Dwarves.

“It is almost dark, how can he keep safe from the animals and monsters?” mused Ethral Lumensong, God of Elves.

“Why is he burning wood! Can he not feel how he is harming the forest? Does he not have magic to create light and warmth?” lamented Sylthaea, the Goddess of Nature.

“Which one of us created him?” asked everyone in unison.

“He isn't one of my fair folk. He isn't imbued with magic and mystery.” declared Ethral.

“He is too tall to be of my doing. I haven't forged mastery over metals and machines in him.” professed the Stone-Father.

“Puny. He no strong like orc. He no have might or mayhem.” spat Vrothak the Maw-Bearer, the God of Monsters.

“He isn't one of my children. He isn't born from the meadows or mangroves.” said Sylthaea.

“He is mobile, he is neither of mountains and minerals nor mires and mud.” Gaia pointed out.

Death’s ghostly voice echoed, “He is mortal. He fears me and his thoughts are macabre, but he is not of me, for I can only reap, not sow.”

The god of the Sun and the goddess of the Moon stood silently opposite of each other. Behind them stood the circle of planets. All of them ignored the scrying circle. He was of Earth, he was minuscule and meaningless to the Heavens.

The gods of Earth looked at each other, uneasy.

* * *

“Fear not my friends. This strange creature shall not trouble us much longer. One of my ursine children has caught his scent. I have guided him not to fear his fire.” Sylthaea reassured everyone.

The gods peered at the unfolding scene in the circle. Suddenly they recoiled in dismay.

“My child is in so much pain. How can his spear have such penetration without dwarven masterwork metal?” Sylthaea wailed!

“His speartip is crafted obsidian, chipped into perfect sharpness. He has worked stone on his own!” the Stone-Father couldn’t believe his eyes.

* * *

Spring gave way to summer and autumn and soon it was Gaia’s turn. “Fear not my friends. Winter is soon upon him. He has no shelter inside the bosom of my mountains like the dwarves.”

“Nor in my forests shaped by the elven magic. Neither does he have plants to pick or game to hunt, for all my children have scurried away.” Sylthaea added.

The gods gathered again to watch. Again they recoiled as Sylthaea screamed in pain.

“He has felled so many trees! He has not grown them with magic, he has twisted them into shape with force! I felt every cut as he struck them with his tools of stone.” The anguish was visible on the Goddess’ face. “Their dead form shelters him from Gaia's winds, and even more he burns in his hearth of stone. He wears the skins of my children, even as their flesh hangs dried from his ceiling, removed from the cycle of my life!”

“How he has twisted the purpose of our creations!” They all lamented.

* * *

“They die of old age, yet their numbers grow. They need no magic to sustain themselves. They don't feel the pain of the land, the damage they do to Sylthaea’s forests, to Gaia’s rivers.” Ethral spoke.

“They have turned wood into coal, their hearths now burn so hot they can shape metal! A lump of iron and nickel from the heavens, a vein of copper from the exposed rock on the surface. They have learned to work it all without my guidance!” the Stone-Father spoke incredulously.

“Others of their kind have taken my weeds and grown them over and over, selecting which to keep to make them grow bigger with more seeds. My flowering meadows are now their fields, growing their grains that I had no hand in shaping!” Sylthaea was reduced to tears, her beauty tarnished.

“They have even taken my stones and harnessed my wind and water to grind the seeds so they can make them edible with their fire. My air acrid with their smoke.” Even Gaia bore scrapes and sooty marks on her visage.

“They no fight fair. No might. Build wall, can not reach. Shoot arrow. Orc die. Dire beast die. All die. They no die.” the Maw-Bearer complained. He looked diminished.

* * *

The gods of the Heavens continued to stand by dispassionately. The creatures were of Earth, they did not concern them.

Centuries, millennia passed, and the gods of the Earth diminished and disappeared bit by bit. But the Celestials were timeless and eternal. Beyond mortal reach.

It was only after Luna felt the impacts of their first probes that the gods of the Heavens had to take notice.

* * *

At the end of Time only one last god remained.

Death didn’t need to look in the scrying circle to see the creature. Man was standing there with him.

“Have you come for me?” the unbreathing voice of Death echoed in the void, it sounded thin and hollow.

“Yes.” said Man.

Death tilted his head, giving his rigid skull the appearance of a grin.

And there was only Man.