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In the Beginning...

In the swirling mists of the primordial realm, a nameless god towered. Amidst the celestial nebulae, their form shifted. Their eyes, if one could call them that, reflected the twinkling galaxies of the primordial plane. Around the ancient god, the fabric of creation pulsed and writhed, an endless canvas for his divine experimentation.

Fascination and frustration.

The god patiently mulled over the decree of the Ponderous One. It had taken eons for the Greater God to come to a decision, but alas, it had. So, the Cosmic Records had been updated. Fascination! And yet...Frustration. Yet again, the stiffness of mind of the greater gods did so frustrate. 

One corporeal form. One intangible soul. That was the decree.

How...dreadfully limiting. 

The Timeless One reached into the primordial soup floating about and cupped a handful of unattuned plasma. With the barest effort, the plasma squeezed under the might of the old god and formed into a painfully mundane corporeal form. It lay vacant and still before the Deity, lacking the infinite dynamo of a soul to drive it. How wonderful would it be to push beyond a single soul? How far could such a creation be pushed? 

Irrelevant, as such questions would be answered in time. 

The creative one extended a scheme of subtle complexity. It pierced through the gossamer veil of the higher reality. A rend opened, allowing the creative one to reach past the Hungering Void and grasp at a single handful of nascent souls adrift in the cosmic ether. 

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The souls flowed toward the vacant vessel but paused at the threshold. The Cosmic Records would not allow it—they could not allow it. That was the simple nature of a Decree written upon the Records. 

The Thoughtful One noted this behavior but was unperturbed. They reached once more for the primordial soup, gathering more creative essence. Power shook the heavens, as the God forced its will upon the lifeless matter. 

It spun, compressing smaller and smaller until it began shedding the mortal mass that composed its nature. It expanded, as if relieved to give in to the centrifugal force acting upon it, and opened a simple hollow container. The Victorious One exulted -- though it was silent as sound did not exist in the primordial plane -- as the Vessel sucked in the handful of nascent souls hovering at its threshold. The souls flooded into their new home and merged with the vacant shell mere moments afterward.

For you see. 

No decree demanded that ethereal forms be limited to the potential of a single soul. 

The Ancient One lifted its newest creation ponderously. Years passed as the God pondered. Power trickled into the Vessel as it slowly took a mortal shape. It didn't take up any familiar form. How could it with such an aberrant soul? This creation was no ordinary beast or human being, but a chimera.

A Hydra. 

A brand seared itself onto the creature's chest. A singular final boon. One that would bridge the gap between mortal and god. And one that would tell all the Worlds without a shadow of a doubt who created this creature. 

With one final preponderance of sentiment, Discord ferried its youngest creation to the primordial boundary and let its corporeal form solidify upon the verdant grass of a blossoming forest.

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