In the beginning, there was Hesiod the Hairy: who wrought the gods, and the ages, and the heroes, and the great compromise. Then came Snorri Bigmouth, with an iron axe and a frothing jug of ale. And Uncle Jo, who never lacked for a answer or a square peg for a round hole. These are the ancestors.
And behold, the Cosmic Gregness chewed the inner munchiness of the ancestors, and dreamed great dreams and visions dark. He wrote with sentences small but replete. And there came to be Glorantha. In bits. And it was good.
There came the Ages of the Demi-Gods of Yore, the Gifted Three who bought System, Order and Humour unto the tribes.
First came the Perrinous Steve, he of the rattan cane and 3D6. System he gave, and romance, and it was very good. And the word spread of the great munchiness of Glorantha, and behold, the people rejoiced, even though they all lived in Pavis. And long were their combats, though one-use were their rune-wrought spells.
Then came the bearded Sandy, son of Peter, stout of heart and belly. Out of the wilderness he came, pursed by tentacles writhing. Order he brought, and vision, and a filing system that worked. Great were the days of his Empire, and many and distant were the lozenged lands he surveyed. And the people rejoiced: long were the combats still, but many the spells, indeed even sorcery for those brave of heart and ready with calculator. The tribes now worshipped many gods. They took to their mounts, and their yurts, and they journeyed: to Kralorea, to Fronela, to distant Pamaltela. Much did the Sandy render, and it was mostly good, though there were a few Maidenstone Archers and dropped oil lamp tables on the edges.
Then fell a great darkness, and the Daughters of Darkness walked the hills of Avalon, and the foul hand of Dobroyski rendered coarse the vision once splendid.
But out of the darkness, from a small wet island in the northern slough, there came the Divad Llah,. Great was his heart and reserved his disposition. A band of heroes he gathered, a mighty Megacorp, and long they toiled with paste and paper and a 64K Amiga. Humour they brought, and MGF, and the age of the fan-creator. Spellchecking they brought, and long were the gasps of wonder, and loud did the tribes rejoice. To Hayward the Onion the gathered heroes prayed. The Nickster scolded all, and wrought with the Gidlowed Chris a Red Vision Splendid. The DogBoy Dan wrought sketches rather nice, and found colour in the night. From the farthest antipodes, the Mobster wrote rumours and tooled scenarios well-warped. Many were the heroes gathered beneath the Divad's banner, and the mysteries of the kremlined Empire, and the unmapped Sartar, and the well-knotted Prax all were revealed to the peoples. Combats were still long, but behold, we could laugh about it. And it was very good.
At 11:29 AM 10/12/2007, you wrote:
>There is only one Greg, and Glorantha is his creation.
>
>There have been three prophets of Greg, blessed and anointed by him.
>
>The first was the Babbling Brooke ("Mr Gloranthan Insight 1997"). He
>is the Lost Prophet. In a time of great darkness he brought us all
>great insight, knowledge and acceptance of the Lunar Way (and
>Yurts). He was blessed with much perception and freely shared it
>with everyone until he lost his path and fell into the Gidlow
>heresy. Alas, his fall was swift and the heresy was anathematised
>and totally expunged from our canon. Some heretics still secretly
>follow this way, but they hide in fear for inevitably they shall be
>driven out by our informers and purged - however unspoken their
>words may be.
>
>The second was Stevie, the Goat Prophet. May the person who brought
>him to Greg be eternally cursed and exiled to a faraway place of
>heat, dust and endless barbeques! Stevie was blessed by Greg and was
>his Divine Messenger. He had the power, but he grew foolish &
>arrogant with it. He took upon himself the title of Prophet,
>tricking Greg and locking him away in an inviolable prison, while he
>plotted to transform himself into the New Greg. Only a small band of
>seven brave heroes, led by the Mighty Minty Breath (the true Divine
>Messenger), was able to unmask him, cast him down in his evilness
>(with just recompense), and release Greg from his imprisonment. We
>do not speak his name now for it is accursed. Vile! Hateful! Evil!
>Accursed Goat!
>
>The third prophet is Jeffogato, the One True Prophet. He is blessed
>by Greg in word and deed. He is wise and far-travelled and has never
>been defeated in argument: it is simply not possible. He is also
>known as the prophet of the Last Word, for it must be so. He is
>loved and blessed by the people and must be obeyed in all things as
>if he were Greg himself. We worship him and we abase ourselves
>before him for he is certainly the last prophet. Rejoice! Rejoice!
>
>May the light of divine Greg inspire this document and protect it
>from the vile co-creators of the so-called Gloranthan Commune!
>
>All Hail Greg! YPWV!
>
>Divad Llah
>Semi-Divine Messenger (ret'd)
John Hughes
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