The Descent.
The planet spread out beneath them, a wild and contrasting world where expanses of greenery and majestic mountains coexisted with dilapidated cities and thatched-roof villages. The seven gods, from their ethereal ship, floated in the air, observing this new land, a flame of satisfaction in their eyes. This world, raw and harsh, had everything to please them, while moving away from the civilized skies and rigid rules that they had fled.
Their ship began to descend in a graceful spiral, tearing through the clouds like a hunting eagle. In the distance, mortals looked up at the sky, their gazes filled with a mixture of fascination and fear.
Nyssa, goddess of the arts, observed all this with a thoughtful air. "Look at this pure, raw aesthetic. It is primitive, certainly, but so... striking. A tragic beauty. »
Vahan, the god of anti-capitalist economics, nodded. "This world seems like a permanent paradox. The famine and inequality here seem almost sculpted from reality. A most cynical work, I like it."
They landed on top of a hill, a little away from a village. Around them, dense and wild vegetation spread, sheltering animals they had never seen before. Distant howls of hunting animals, the cracking of leaves in the wind, and the eerie silence of the forests: all this echoed a natural order to which they had not been accustomed for millennia.
---
After letting their divine aura evaporate in order to reduce their power, Ezekiel cleared his throat and declared in a solemn voice: "My friends, this world does not know our name. This is the perfect opportunity to impose one on them. Something… memorable."
Nyssa took a deep breath. "How about… the Old Gods?"
A puzzled silence followed this suggestion. They exchanged glances that were halfway between confusion and half-contemplation. Finally, Asher, the god of divination, burst out laughing. "Yes, Old Gods! That sounds… oddly ironic. Perfectly in keeping with us."
After a minute of heated debate, they decided to adopt that title. From then on, the entire world would know them as the Old Gods, and anyone who dared question their greatness would be met with a condescending look from Nyssa.
---
Below, the villagers were now gathered in a compact mass. With downcast faces and tense shoulders, they murmured prayers to the spirits of nature, hoping that these newly arrived beings would not be hostile. The village chief, an old man with features marked by years, stepped forward, leaning on a cane made of gnarled wood.
Ezekiel, placing his foot on a large stone that raised him a little higher, cleared his throat and gave the villagers a confident smile. "People of Earth, rejoice, for you are honored by the presence of the Old Gods! We come to guide, to reform… and to add a touch of grandeur to your existence."
The old chief frowned, eyeing Ezekiel warily. "We… we do not know your people. Are you sent by the spirits of the forest, or do you belong to the spirits of the shadows?"
Ezekiel stifled a laugh, but held it back, searching for words so as not to scare them. "Let's just say we're above all that. The spirits you worship… are part of an ancient and respectable order, yes, but a little… let's say, outdated. They're boomers."
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The villagers exchanged worried glances, some murmuring prayers to appease the spirits. The chief frowned. "You dare speak like that about our ancestral guides? They protect us, watch over our crops and our families. And what does boomer mean?"
At this remark, Vahan, the god of economy, took a step forward. "You know, the spirits may watch over you, but that doesn't seem to protect you from famine and misery, does it? It's time we had gods who took matters into their own hands."
Asher, sensing the tension rising, approached in turn and declared, his voice soft and reassuring: "Do not be afraid. We do not come to judge your traditions. We come… to improve them. We are artisans of change."
---
One of the men of the village, a massive hunter with a bushy beard, leaned towards his comrades and whispered: "Perhaps this is a test of the spirits… to see if we remain faithful."
Nyssa smiled and said in a seductive voice: "People of this world, we are not here to divide you. On the contrary, we offer a breath of fresh air. A world where you could aspire to… something other than mere survival. To greatness, perhaps?"
As she spoke, a child stepped forward timidly, his eyes wide with wonder. "Are you gods? "
Aphrael, the goddess of beauty, leaned over and stroked his hair gently. "Little one, we are more than gods. We are guides from elsewhere, to bring light where there is darkness."
The boy, visibly impressed, whispered something in his mother's ear, who looked at Aphrael with a mixture of fear and hope. Slowly, she knelt down, soon followed by other villagers, forming a respectful circle around the gods.
"Thank you for using your persuasive aura," Ezekiel whispered in Mavora's ear.
"I was starting to get impatient. You are so useless, you can't even convince, a village of primitives. "
---
Suddenly, a cry of alarm rang out. Armored warriors, armed with spears and shields, were descending from the mountainside, looking resolute. At their head, a captain with a scarred face stood tall, his gaze fierce. He stopped a few meters from the gods, a defiant glint in his eyes.
"Who are you?" he called, his voice thundering over the hill. "These people are under the protection of Markow, lord of these lands, and the spirits of nature. If you have any evil intentions, I advise you to leave." while pointing his spear at Ezekiel
Ezekiel looked at him with a smirk, showing no trace of concern. "Ah, the cavalry. Always a pleasure. You see, captain, we are here in divine mission. We, the Old Gods, come from far away to guide your people. We do not need your permission."
The captain gritted his teeth, casting an indignant glance towards the village. "These people already have their beliefs, they are already protected. They do not need... new gods from elsewhere."
Vahan then stepped forward, with a wry smile. "And yet, they seem curious. Perhaps even a little tired of their old ways?"
The captain raised his spear, ready to retaliate. But before he had time to say a word, a cloud of multicolored flowers and petals rose around him, forming a dizzying spiral. Nyssa had stepped forward, sketching graceful gestures to create this dreamlike vision. Spellbound, the captain slowly lowered his spear, his eyes lost in the colorful whirlwind.
"This is just the beginning of what we can offer," Nyssa murmured in a soft, hypnotic voice. "A world where beauty can soften even the fiercest of spirits."
---
The villagers, dazzled by this demonstration, now seemed convinced. They approached the gods, asking them all sorts of questions. Aphrael answered elegantly, Ezekiel simply smiled mysteriously, and Vahan launched into a tirade on the fair distribution of wealth that left the villagers a little perplexed but admiring.
After a few hours, the entire village was under the sway of the newcomers. The Old Gods had conquered their first stronghold.
---
That night, around an improvised campfire, they gathered to take stock.
"Well, first contact successful," Ezekiel declared, casting a satisfied glance around him.
"We didn't follow any of the procedures laid out in the First Contact Guide," Glaber sighed, looking defeated.
"And that's why our old worlds loved us," Asher replied, a wild grin on his face.