This is my first Black & White fic, The creature concept will be introduced later in the story. But for now enjoy this tale as it unravels. I may or may not begin a sequel when this concludes depending on review response.
DisclaimerI don't own Black & White, any related creatures, miracles and any other content, the plot is based loosely on that of B&W 2 however any original elements, names, people or any content not in the games is mine, I will tolerate the reproduction of any of my original ideas so long as the author in question asks me first.
So without further guilding the lilly and with no more ado, I am proud to present...
Black & White
Arik awoke, a meadow, a soft breeze blowing through the tall grass the scent of it wafting in to his nostrils. He had nostrils? It was certain, he had a body.
"This isn't what you promised Tiberius!" He yelled skyward, his voice was not deep, it seemed he had been given a body which was proportionate to his age as a God. Rather than count their age in years Gods tended to count the time from their awakening in millennia, which in this form made him roughly twenty.
He was in full armour, the classic greek circular shield on one arm and a sword at his belt, he wore no helmet and conjuring a pool of water he beheld a clean shaven, handsome, chiselled face, one that seemed it had been cut from the palest marble. The brown of his chin length hair was rivalled in beauty and magnificence only by the emerald green of his eyes.
"There is no use in yelling to Tiberius, friend." Th voice was that of an elderly man, wearing a blue cloak and hood over a darker tunic. Like all his people he wore sandals for comfort. He was a little shorter than Arik, or it could be how he leaned on his gnarled old staff, surely almost as old as he. His face seemed like a dried out old prune, shrunken and contorted, framed by his long, snowy white hair. "The old Gods have abandoned Eden."
Arik had yet to overcome his disgust toward being confined in this manner but he thought it best to start his task as soon as possible. "Surely that is not so." He began, "Why, his temple still stands at the edge of the town there, would such a structure stand if it were not the will of heaven?"
"A reminder of a crumbling empire, stranger, Tiberius has not spoken to us for nearly five decades now. Our borders are undefended, our farm lands are nothing but scorched earth and we pay tribute to the other tribes. Heaven's will has overlooked us I fear."
"Perhaps Tiberius does not speak because you are idle and do not defend your borders." Arik peered toward the temple, squinting against the rising sun, "The sun rises, why are the people not going for the morning's prayers?"
"No one pays homage to Tiberius any longer, he does not speak, so most people have stopped asking for his voice."
"Take me within the temple." Arik commanded, "I will make him speak."
The temple though old and vine ridden, was not without its own elegance. Its tall pillars stood out from the non-descript landscape it was situated on and the old fountains around it, though similarly vine covered, gave the crumbling building a real feeling of importance.
"What is your name old man?" Arik asked as they proceeded up the steps.
"Augusto." The old man answered, "I was once a priest here, before these dark times, at first the Norse would not let us practice our faith, they guarded the temple day and night, but when Tiberius left it wasn't necessary any longer. The people are content to cringe, lest they be sent to the prison, or even worse the torture pits."
"Excellent." Arik exclaimed, "We'll go there next."
"But the pits and prisons are guarded my young friend, Norse warriors do not tolerate any Greek wearing armour or bearing weapons, unless it be Norse iron and it is borne for a Norse cause."
"Well the Norse are going to be very upset, because there is no way they are getting their hands on my armour, nor my shield and they certainly don't want to end up on the wrong end of my sword." The two cleared the last few steps and forced open the huge stone doors as they entered the temple.
Inside lay a few rotting wooden benches and a marble alter below a hole in the centre of the domed ceiling. "A shame it is that the Norse took all the relics from this place, our prayers might have been answered if only we had possessed a strong enough talisman."
"Fear not old priest, I think your prayers wont go unanswered any longer."
"You are a strange young fellow... what did you say your name was?"
"My name is Arik Avan."
The priest stopped and mumbled under his breath, "Tiberius, Animus..." He paused a few moments, no doubt reciting the other countless gods names in his head, "Ah yes! Arik Avan! Second of The Trinity, The Balance. Your father named you well, you were the middle child my boy?"
Augusto obviously didn't believe he was the Arik Avan, so the deity decided to play along, "I suppose you could say that." He came to the altar and laid his hands upon it, "Hm, still warm."
"Ha, this marble has been cold for most of my life m'boy. No warmth in these old stones."
"You're wrong," Arik gasped, he felt energy rushing in to his body from the altar, energy dormant for decades, "I can feel it."
The clouds split wide and a great shaft of light cam down, passing the the dome and shining down on the altar, illuminating both Arik and the cold stones, vines and moss were swept away and the temple began to restore itself. Chips of stone, shards of glass all began to return to their rightful place.
Arik turned away to watch the restoration of the rest of the temple, at once the priest fell on his knees, "My Lord Arik!" He cried, "I had no idea! My mortal eyes could not perceive who you were, please forgive a thoughtless old man!"
Arik stood over the aged man and smiled, "Rise, I need a High Priest to run this temple, gather what followers the old Gods have left and bring them here."
The aged Priest stopped shouting and rose, leaning heavy on his staff. Arik looked at it, proof of how fragile mortals were. "Carry out this task." He said, "And you shall be rewarded."
He looked once again down at his armour, "Give me your cloak."