"Well done, Paloria." Dymos commented. Thinking aloud brought very fast results. He was quite pleased. But he felt anxious, like he was... missing something. He had a slight feeling, a hunch, that their were great things in this reality, yet to be uncovered. Treasures to find. And Dymos HAD to look. Bidding the others an awkwardly abrupt farewell, Dymos wandered south.
The Frost Giants would work as planned. As they roamed, with each breath they took, the planet grew cooler. This accelerated the worlds aging, hardening the surface of the world much faster. Though it would still take a millennia, to gods and their giants it would only feel like days. As this happened, valleys were carved by earthquakes, Mountains by volcanic eruptions and mud-seas by Geysers. When the geysers and volcanoes calmed, the sky cleared at last, revealing a beautiful blue color.
-#-
Dymos would find flatland of carved orange stone. Canyons formed around grey slabs. Black, impossibly needle-esque mountains. All the while shattered memories of a past life where all that mattered was pleasing his Father, despite perfection around him. And finally, in a red, dusty land he would rest. Only one thing occured to him. He had no use for any of it himself, if not to make the Allfather impressed. He knew what to do: He regurgitated his mighty creativity, ambition, and orderliness into his mouth, and spat on the dust. He rubbed molten hands together to form particles falling into his puddle... Soon, an organism grew. Not a plant, something more robust, more complicated. This creature he named 'Lech', for it was like lichen. "Go and spread. Eat and grow. Build, and when you come to an impasse, find a new way through, always." It slithered away, to find food...
