Welcome to Gaia! ::

(( Blame my Western Civ class. xd ))

The bad guy, Atnek, has won. The world has completely started over. Unfortunately, he had a heart attack before he could do anything about it and the remaining fragments of humanity are left to their own devices. The world, let's call it Sylvarestaurant, is now 60% Water, 20% Forest and Jungle, 15% Desert and Canyon, and 5% Modern World Ruins. Each of these areas have their own distinct properties and wild life, but the Ruins house mutated animals. Your job is to cultivate, populate, and ultimately either bring civilization back to its former glory or ruin it for the rest of us. It's up to you.

You could be one of the returning heroes shunned for your failure but with some divine tool...


A hunter with a tribal existence? Or you could just be a douchebag.

Yggdrasil has surprisingly survived and flourished in this environment. Its roots housed and protected those humans and elves from the catastrophe and now provides nourishment for all but the most scorched of lands. The spirits may yet even now lay in wait, in slumber.

~*~*~*~*~

"s**t..." A boot made contact with dirty soil and a man with lettuce hair stepped out from a giant whale-like ship, Waylord. They'd barely managed to return from the moon, which played host to their epic defeat, and now their ship was devoid of power or mechanical motion. He surveyed the area from atop the enormous cliff they'd made their makeshift runway and all he could see were trees and the ocean; not a single remnant of the cities he'd known.

The man, let's call him Lance, fell to his knees.

"Costapalma... Galdsein... Kuthmal... This is all my fault..."

(( Cliff? How about Megiddo? xd ))

"Aoiiii~!" A bratty looking teen with raven hair whined to the brunette beside her, "I'm sick and tired of taking this [HONK HONK!!]'s orders!"

They were hauling the Evil Empress Claire's stone for whatever purpose with the sound of cracking whips at their backs.

Aoi growled at her 'life partner', "Just keep hauling, Aka. Otherwise, you get the whip!"

"No whip! No whip!" And they hauled. They hauled a**. "You know what stinks about being a slave? The hours!"

WHIP!

"AUGH! Aoiiii~!"

"S-Steven!!"

Shocked, Lance shot up like a bullet and held Steven by the arms, shaking the poor guy as he exclaimed, "I thought you were all dead!"

The fallen hero told of their defeat and the subsequent reboot the world went through, that the people down here had gone through firsthand. There was no end to the worry of what may be different, but Steven was proof enough for the heroes that not everything was lost.

Lance lowered his head and his spear and spoke with much duress, "I do not know... Things seem bleak. I cannot see a single soul around."

Just then, as these things ALWAYS happen to happen JUST THEN, a pink-haired demon flew through the air and lightly bumped into the spearman. Arche was as bubbly and crazy as always.

"Aww, don't be such a fuddy duddy, Lancey-poo! I kinda like all this fresh air!"

Not just the air, they both knew it was something else. Mana was brimming all around them as abundantly as if the planet hadn't ever suffered such a terrible war. It was hard to argue against Atnek's contribution, and yet all those people... Was it worth so many lives?

What help was available gathered some supplies off of the ship and stacked them against a tree while the more magically inclined began building a fire for the cooking of that night's meal. The smoke, it was hoped, might also draw others. The Waylord would make for good shelter but their supplies wouldn't last forever. Other means would be necessary.

(( Arche = Philia's anti-thesis? ))