Atstus, God of the Hunt When the world of lions and gods clash, things are bound to change. Balance must shift, for who among feline kind truly deserves to walk among the divine? Even among the hybrids, this is an honor few could claim. And who can say a meeting with the gods would not end in disaster?
None may know, and when the meat trails run dry with the change of the seasons and cubs cry out for food, it is a risk that must be taken. Atstus took to the plains, claws digging into solid earth that kept the grass and herbs from growing. He would use his strength to protect his pride. The hunting knowledge of the lion, the power of the tiger. Through both his pride would survive.
In time, after fruitless hours following dead end after dead end, he found his quarry. A large stag. It would not satisfy them all, but it would be enough. Enough to stay the paws of death from taking the young before their time. Enough to give his huntresses strength. Enough to survive until the herds returned.
The hunt was fierce. Stags are notoriously difficult to fell for they fight with antlers and hooves. And a well-placed kick or hit can end the strongest. Atstus refused to give up. Claws ripped through flesh as teeth took hold and by the setting sun, he stood over his fallen prey, panting but proud. Fulfilled. His pride might yet survive...
"You have hunted well, Atstus. Few can succeed in felling the God of the Hunt. But do you understand the consequences of your actions?"
The tigon turned, claws bared at the voice that spoke. A shade of the deer by his paws stood before him, tall and proud. His voice echoes around them on the silent air of the plains and the leader watched him warily.
"What do you mean the consequences?"
"Life for life. Balance for balance. Though your hunt was noble and your intentions pure, you took a life not meant to die. A death that must be repaid. You, Atstus, must take my place as God of the Hunt and restore the balance, or the world as you know it...will cease to be."
Tigon and shade faced off over the fallen stag. He was no god. He was not to walk among the divine. He sought only to feed his children. To let his people thrive. But if he refused...they would fall. His head turned towards the caves in which his huntresses rested, saving their strength for hunts few and far between. To cubs weak and unable to play.
"For the sake of my young. The lives of my pride...I will take your place. But should harm come to them because I do this..."
"Fear not. You may return to them. Watch over them and guide them. But you must now guide the herds. Fulfill your duties well, and your pride will prosper."
"Very well."
The shade approached, pressing his muzzle to the tigon's head and phasing into him. Filling him and changing him. Atstus no longer walked the mortal realm. He could see the trails of the herds, hear the call of the hunt, the cries of lives taken before time or needlessly slain. See where the trails were strong. How many could be slain to maintain the balance.
Always maintain the balance.
This he could go. He would fulfill his role. And his pride...would survive the change of the seasons.
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Oias God of Fertility Two souls, one body. Twins who should have run and played together joined at birth and unable to play as cubs are meant to do. One meant to be a God of Fertility. Bringer of cubs to eager wombs. The other the paws that brought such New Life safely into the world. Two souls to work as one, but fate had other plans.
Fate decreed their mother Diasis must watch them grow weak. Watch them struggle. Watch them fade until her dear sister guided them to the afterlife. There, in the embrace of the gods and not bound by mortal laws were her cubs allowed to thrive. They had access to the strength that let them run and play as best they could. Young hearts pulling pranks on the gods to bring them joy.
When play was done, they shadowed their mother, following in her paw steps and learning what it meant to be protectors of life. How to bless the lionesses who cried out for cubs of her own. How to guide souls into the world. How to help them avoid the fate that marked them at birth.
They learned and studied well. And on the day lionesses began to give birth, they were there. Watching. Guiding. Protecting. And some say that cubs who are a little more chaotic, a little more mischievous...are touched by Oias at birth. To carry on the play they wished they could have done.
•☆•~~~•☆•~~~•☆•~~~•☆•
Diasis Goddess of life Paw to barren earth and grass grows and thrives. The walks of Diasis are always known, for the earth grows so vibrant and lush, and the air of mischief is in her wake from the antics of her dear Oias. A life she cherishes, and yet the cruel hand of fate still makes her heart ache when she sees the life they should have had...
But Life must not mourn long those who pass. She is the light that guides the plants through the barren ground. The call of birds over the plans with the coming of spring. The watcher of lives through their journey before the sun sets and it is time for them to pass on. For lions who pranced and played under her gift to turn now to Unas, her twin and watcher of souls.
She allows herself to mourn a little. The sudden showers that fall outside of the wet season. Though no storm since has rivaled the one that followed the death of her twins. The sky shook that day, the earth was ravaged. The wind roared in echo of her own. That day...the Goddess of Life broke. That day, she grieved...
But Life must continue. It must flow. And so...she stood tall. The sun returned...and paw again met the earth...and she brought the joys of living back to the mortal plane, the air of mischief heavy on the air behind her.
•☆•~~~•☆•~~~•☆•~~~•☆•
Unas Goddess of Death Sun. Moon.
Day. Night.
Dark. Light.
Life. Death.
All things have a counterpart. An opposite that keeps all things in balance. As there is a Goddess of Life, so must there be a Goddess of Death. As there is a beginning, there must be an end.
Smoke dancing with colors follows the white specter on her journey to guide the passing. No one knows what these colors mean, but Unas can read them. And she always knows when a lion is about to enter her realm. Sitting by their side, hidden from the grieving, she waits. A warm smile and a soothing voice to the souls who awaken outside of their mortal form.
Some are scared. Some are tired. Some were pure. Some were evil. Death is the one true end for all. It brings all into a common field. For here, the mightiest King is no better than the lowest thief. So she greets them all the same. Soft. Soothing. Bringing them into her fold and into a pride that knows no end.
Yet she knows every voice that answers her roar. The Kings who tell tales of their deeds. The cubs who listen in awe. The outcasts who find souls like theirs. The mothers grieving because they were taken from their babies.
She knows them all. Guards them all. And, in the rare chances such an act may occur, she will guide select souls to her twin, to her beautiful Diasis, and allow them to return to the mortal fold in a new life until the time comes for them to join her again.
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