Before everything, when the sky was dark and the earth was nothing but fire and rock and there was not a living thing to be found, there were the Gods. In the days before there were days, being a God was not a rare thing. There was a God who made the clouds and a God who made the sea and a God for every tree and flower and creature. And, being Gods, all they wanted was to be loved by something.
Today, we have new Gods to worship and new stories that tell us where things came from. And these Gods are just as real and these stories are just as true. Now, the Old Gods have been forgotten, which, for a God, is the same as having never existed in the first place. But there is still one thing that survives from these times: The Legend of the Beastblood.
The story goes like this. There was a God who made the humans. He wasn’t like the other Gods, with their horns and teeth and scales. They called him the Little God. And he was proud of what he’d made. The humans weren’t thirsty for war like the orcs. They weren’t conniving and deceitful like the sphinx. They weren’t proud and debauched like the dwarves. All they liked to do was gather and build and farm and live.They didn’t need claws or fangs to survive and prosper.
But the Little God was fearful. As the world grew, the other Gods became desperate to make their mark. If they could not be loved, they chose instead to be feared.They made volcanoes and thunderstorms and earthquakes. And the darkest, most desperate Gods made monsters. The Little God was afraid for his humans’ future. He wanted to arm them against the terrors that had been set loose in the world. But he was not the sort of God who could imagine something strong and horrible enough to fight the monsters. And even if he were, he didn’t want to change what he loved so much about his humans.
But the Little God was cunning. Secretly, he gathered a handful of his favourite men and women and made them the guardians of humanity. It would be their job to fight the terrors of the world on behalf of all humankind. To arm them in their fight, the Little God granted them a special power. But he didn’t make them strong. He didn’t make them fast or stealthy. Instead, he gave them the power to change their shape.
For every kill the Little God’s warriors made, be it beast, barbarian or brute, they would claim its spirit. Every notch on their sword was another shape they could take. This way, they could use the power of their enemies against them. No matter what horrors the other Gods could conjure, so long as the Little God’s warriors were worthy enough to kill but one, they would always match them. And so these warriors became known as the Beastblood. Not quite animal and not quite human, but enough of each to be the perfect defenders of humankind.
The warriors did their duty and the humans prospered. And soon, the humans had no more use for the Beastblood, and so too had they no use for the Little God. And though the Little God vanished along with all the other Old Gods, he left behind his gift, content in the knowledge that if the forces of darkness ever rose again to threaten his beloved humans, the Beastblood would reawaken, ready to fulfill his legacy.
Centuries have passed since the last Beastblood fell, but today a new champion will awaken. Who is it?