Once there
>were gods great and beautiful, whose palms crushed
>whole villages, whose smiles ensured mortal love. They
>reigned over their world with words that shook the
>hearts of mountains, and their exploits became myths
>without number. From thrones (carved of clouds and
>bejeweled with snared lightning) they presided over a
>land teeming with monsters, men, and heroes. Passing
>eternity warring with each other and those that
>thought they could best a deity, they were slowly
>stripped of their supremacy brick by brick until
>they slid into memory.
>
>But gods do not die, forgive, or forget. Once again
>they are waking up but in bodies strange and
>impermanent, bodies that will die. Their powers fizzle
>as they toil away in mortal flesh; memories slink away
>to private parts of the brain. Mount Olympus only
>visits in the secret places of dreams. They wear the
>faces of boys and girls but below the brain, below
>the fumbling of earthly fingers, they are so much
>more. Its been so long! They may remember, finding
>their own faces in others likewise divine; they may
>slip into the mortal coil, and stray through lifetime
>after lifetime, never grasping what glories they once
>had.
>
>And here, we begin.
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