Medievia Mudslinger

August 20th, 2002

Creator of Dreams - By Cylara

Cylara nibbled on the tip of her diamond scepter nervously. Her golden, sleeveless robe swayed as she paced her already cluttered office. The contest ended in just two days. As a newly immortalized building goddess, she felt she was hardly worth noticing, and yet she felt this was the chance to gain the recognition she craved. She dreamed of the chance of a promotion, and the recognition, this contest would provide, instead of continuing on as a third-rate goddess. If only she'd known what she was getting into when she accepted the job. Attention had to be paid to the minutest detail. Even worse, if you wanted to get anywhere you had to be good at creating.

She thought back to the day of her promotion. There were so many texts to read, so many newly acquired creation skills to learn and master. It was overwhelming. She had been assigned a mentor, someone to help make the transition from mortality to godhood easier. Unless she asked the appropriate questions, and it was difficult to know which questions to ask, her mentor could hardly help. Cylara remembered the difficulty she'd had getting a portion of her town created so that it could be reviewed by a World Room Editor. The way she had to struggle and work through the troubles of creating a road just perfectly, and not just one road but many of them - all similar, yet each with distinctly different features.

She grinned when she thought of the poor mail imps, whose services she abused horribly. They had carried so many letters to her mentor, Master World Builder Gorn, continually asking the various questions that arose as she delved deeper into the world of creation.

"Dear Gorn,
What about all these doors!? Roads aren't supposed to have doors, yet they keep coming back!"


It's been awhile since I wrote you. I figured I'd send all my questions at once. How do you decide what level to make the mobiles the players will be fighting? How do you make mobiles wield their weapons when they load? How do you turn a room with a mob, into a store?..."

"Gorn, How do you..."

It's a wonder he hadn't asked to be reassigned.

Cylara sighed and brought her mind back to the present. She was currently experiencing builder's block, a condition she'd heard of frequently but had never had the chance to experience. Creating even the simplest bedroom had become an agonizing experience, where it had once brought such a feeling of self-satisfaction and success. Now she worried and fretted over the smallest details that had once come so easily. Cylara would have dearly liked to blame the contest that the Director of World Development, Ikuska, had foisted upon the immortal community, and yet her problem had begun even before the contest had started.

The contest was really a brilliant idea on the part of the higher immortals, in Cylara's opinion. It was designed to help motivate builders who were faltering, to encourage the builders who were unsure of themselves, to create a spirit of friendly competition amongst the builders, and to generate many new places for mortals to explore and dwell in. The challenge of the contest was to compete with the esteemed goddess Ikuska in the ability to create a zone within a specified amount of time, and create it well. No lackadaisical or half-hearted work would be accepted in the competition.

Cylara sat at her dark walnut desk, setting her scepter down on its polished surface. She pensively thought over the work she'd done so far, and the work that still needed to be finished. Her castle was almost completed. The furnishings of a few rooms remained, but the building itself was done. The next step would be the inhabitants of the town and their belongings. To get the entirety of their personalities and characters thought out, and then to will them into existence. She rubbed her temples slowly. Maybe it had been a mistake to become an immortal.

She thought back to the time she had been mortal. Her father had been a kindly, older man with laughing blue eyes, who indulged her shamelessly. He had given her the best of everything - the best clothes, the best toys and, up until she was old enough to attend school, the best nannies. He had sent her to one of the most prominent Healing Guilds in their district. It had been in this guild where she'd had her first encounters with the rich, the beautiful, and the polished members of her town. While Cylara knew she couldn't compete with her fellow students in those respects, she tried, and succeeded in besting them at their mutual studies.

It was this competitive spirit that had eventually led her to become a goddess. She had done amazingly well in her studies. So well, in fact, that she'd attracted the notice of the headmaster of her guild. He had encouraged her to succeed, and when she finally graduated with honors, he introduced her to a High Priestess of one of the local abbeys. This contact and his influence obtained an apprenticeship for her. It was during this apprenticeship that she had petitioned the gods to grant her immortality so she could create her dream. Cylara abruptly remembered the book her father had given her on the day of her graduation. It contained several quotes, but one in particular which stuck with her. "This world is but a canvas to our imaginations" - Henry David Thoreau

As Cylara reflected on that quote, she realized immediately what her problem was, and the reason for her builder's block. She had gotten so caught up in the difficulties of the problems before her, so distracted by her need to compete, that she'd lost sight of the reason she wanted to create in the first place. She had lost sight of her dream and thus failed to bring that dream to life. She had been so focused on gaining recognition and praise for what she was doing that she'd forgotten why she was doing it. Cylara smiled as she picked up her scepter and translocated herself from her office to her unfinished castle. Now she could create a dream to be proud of.


Cylara relaxed against the back of her delicate, wooden chair as she surveyed her finished work. She had finally completed her castle, and the finished product was far better than she'd ever allowed herself to imagine it could be. Not in time to be considered for the competition, admittedly, but she didn't consider that a bad thing. Her ambition had gotten away with her and almost caused her to fail the one thing she wanted to succeed in the most - her ability to make dreams become reality. She smiled to herself, as she thought that if she continued to succeed in her creation of dreams, eventually the recognition she desired would find her. As long as she didn't lose sight of the dreams her time would come.


Copyright (c) 1992-2018, Inc. All Rights Reserved
Mudslinger is a trademark (Tm) of, Inc.
No portion of the MudSlinger may be reproduced without the express written consent of, Inc.