What Might Have Been Picture

"What gets me is that it's Lugh." Simon climbed up the face of the rock, the wind whipping up a bit as he made it to the top and laid his hands upon the green grass. It was cool. Calming. Grown up enough to be soft but not enough to be wet and overwhelming or wrought with mud and grit. Other than the grit from the statue's face he had just scaled. Simon pulled himself to top of the helmet, folding his legs into a comfortable cross and leaning in, taking in the view. "Weird seeing him out 'ere in nymph country."

"I'm surprised this one's still intact." Leona looked out over the jagged landscape, dotted with patches of grass and soil before ending with a the brush they had emerged from. "I used to pass a few destroyed ones on my way to the lumberyard every day."

She recalled her pathway between villages. A cold, barren plain with a few lonely trees and cliffs far from the road. About a mile outward she the road found itself between a split in a cliff, and each side contained the remains of what looked like a torso. Starting from the waist upward on the right side, and the chest upward on the right. Each appeared to be carrying something, but anything after the chest had been reduced to rubble by the nymph reserve. Lazily, of course. This was the North. Not much going on around these parts. But the heads and tools had all been wiped off of the mountainside. Like bad stain.

She didn't understand it. The bodies were obviously tinyfolk. But the clothing was alien. Bulkier and plated. Not quite like what her people wore. Though her father had a few pieces of clothing hidden away that didn't fall too far from those of the statues.

"Who's Lugh?" Claire cocked her head and leaned in on Simon, her mass of black hair flowing in the breeze.

Simon blinked and then turned to face her, then taking in a breath as he always did before he inundated the girl with information. Leona saw it coming. The way he sat up straight, composing his facts into a coherent package that was digestible but still overwhelming. Simon's routine "information dumps" were both impressive and needlessly exhaustive.

"Okay, so the theory goes that each species on Earth was born from the heavens by a god or goddess. For every single species there is a single deity that played a part in it's creation. Tinyfolk included. We've gone over the deal with demons."

"Yes we have." Claire said.

"So, Lugh is the god that created the brownies. A proud, burly, manly craftsmen who loved the Earth and all it's resources. Iron. Wood. Clay. Stone. Copper. Any kind of metal that had practical application. It was said he forged the tools for every other god in existence, because he was given his hammer from the higher-higher ups. The ones who created the gods. Or the one. Theories differ." Simon pointed to the forming rectangle near the statue's chest. Simon could make out Lugh's hammer anywhere. Rectangular with slanted edges. A firm oak handle. Leather strap. Nice strong steel.

"See, the hammer is a symbol, because out of all our tools it's the most applicable to both craft and combat."

"Like grandpa?" Claire cocked her head in the opposite direction, recalling the Outsider's own hammer.

"Exactly. Two principles of brownie people." He sat himself cross-legged across from her and held out his hands. One sat open below the other, which had balled into a fist.

"You have to build..."

Simon then dropped the fist into his open palm and closed his hand around it.

"And you have to break."

Claire took the information in for a moment, quietly replicating the action to herself, dropping a fist into her palm and looking at it with intense curiosity. "Do you believe that?" She perked up and looked back at him.

Simon shrugged. "Mm-mm." He turned outward and let his feet hang off the statue's face.

"What about you, Miss Leona?"

Leona smiled and shrugged. "I suppose there's some truth to it. Though I have to wonder what is and isn't now." She laughed quietly to herself, stewing over how the existence of demons and asrai had shifted her world view, even though it wasn't too concrete to begin with.

"So...no one knows?" Claire raised a brow and looked from one to to the other in hope of getting a concrete answer.

"Nope." Simon said.

"Not even Grandpa?"

"...y'know I bet he knows the answer...we should ask him when he gets back..."

Tired. Story. Environments. Fantasy. Cosmology. Herby the robot. Fuck that shit.

Continue Reading: The Creation