To call the place formed by the corpse of Something the bitter fields is misleading. The world was not called this due to the prevalence of grasslands within it. In actuality the bitter fields are called such because in the infinite grey recesses, beings of strange forms emerge inexplicably, like crops from the earth. Many of these being defy explanation, and, before clocks and calendars and weekends, they churned against each other eating and being eaten. This churning pitted infinity against itself, and allowed no peace within the world. Of the creatures to form in this world, only the great and clever were able to persist, and of these, the greatest were the serpents and the most clever were the gods.
The serpents were very large, very powerful creatures, but they possessed animalistic intelects. Because of this combination, often they would grow so long that they would forget where their tails were. This did not trouble the serpents because they knew that only another serpent would have jaws strong enough to injure them, and they avoided each other's hunting grounds. Still, the longest of serpents would circle back centuries later, and, upon seeing their own tail, think it the tail of a rival, bite it, and tear themselves apart. The amazing aspect of the serpents though was that they were also natural magicians. Often times their coiling would mirror the exchange, and sections of their long bodies would fall out of the bitter field all together, to occupy some other space.
The gods, not unlike humans, thrived by virtue of cooperation, and in the midst of the terrible churning were able to build Peladokus, the first city. Inside Peladokus, the gods studied many things, and over time some of them learned secret things from echoes, and others found remnants of the exchange in the action of the churning: some of the gods became magicians, and others grew wise. The gods who held the wall of the city became great warriors and the gods that gave themselves over to passion became great artists and lovers.
All of this happened and Peladokus flourished. Peladokus was the gem of the world, and it was all the gods cared for, until it was eaten by Monmigut, a great blind serpent. Few of the gods survived, and the wise men among them discovered something first-hand: it is better to be great than to be clever.
The serpents were very large, very powerful creatures, but they possessed animalistic intelects. Because of this combination, often they would grow so long that they would forget where their tails were. This did not trouble the serpents because they knew that only another serpent would have jaws strong enough to injure them, and they avoided each other's hunting grounds. Still, the longest of serpents would circle back centuries later, and, upon seeing their own tail, think it the tail of a rival, bite it, and tear themselves apart. The amazing aspect of the serpents though was that they were also natural magicians. Often times their coiling would mirror the exchange, and sections of their long bodies would fall out of the bitter field all together, to occupy some other space.
The gods, not unlike humans, thrived by virtue of cooperation, and in the midst of the terrible churning were able to build Peladokus, the first city. Inside Peladokus, the gods studied many things, and over time some of them learned secret things from echoes, and others found remnants of the exchange in the action of the churning: some of the gods became magicians, and others grew wise. The gods who held the wall of the city became great warriors and the gods that gave themselves over to passion became great artists and lovers.
All of this happened and Peladokus flourished. Peladokus was the gem of the world, and it was all the gods cared for, until it was eaten by Monmigut, a great blind serpent. Few of the gods survived, and the wise men among them discovered something first-hand: it is better to be great than to be clever.
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