It shouldn't exist. Simple as that. Inkling should not exist. Why? You ask. I'll tell you, no place in the entire universe should contain as much crazy as this place does, it's utterly insane. Off it's head! You can forget Wonderland, Wonderland is logical compared to Inkling. The gods were having a joke when they created this place-- a laugh! Inkling was a mere joke, as were the people on it. It was a crazy, upside down place with no real laws and no real sense of place. From the lilac beaches to a forest where it's constantly fall, the place is so utterly odd that many think that the gods were insane to start with, that or completely drunk.
Art was a gift all these people were given, they could draw a tree and there it would stand. They drew beautiful things! They drew, they painted, they sculpted! They watched as creation after creation came alive beneath their fingertips. It was truly wonderful! While the gift of art was here it seemed the place had a purpose-- to inspire. To help breath life into the art. The artists brought creatures to this world, strange imaginative creatures that you may still find around today.
Then, it went all wrong. Why? I know little more than you. The gods, the laughing gods which found the place as funny and as enchanting as the inhabitants went insane. Some screamed while others laughed, their sanity gone within days. The gods which had once brought vibrancy and life to the place were now twisted and dark, unable to see sense. The gods had never been truly sane, they were always a little mad. Not like this, they'd been known as The Laughing Pantheon, because nothing had ever been serious in Inkling. All I really know is that the gods went insane at around the time the factories went up... The gift of art vanished, many of the artists died unable to really live without their work. It's been many years since the gods (and goddesses) went insane. Artists are now born, few and far between. Like rare animals they are hunted by some while revered by others. Many go insane from the pressure they are under, they tend to hide away from the main population of Inkling. They keep themselves to The Painted City, sometimes selling the creatures they create, other times just hiding away.
In short Inkling is a strange, almost twisted realm. Where art is often feared and many of the creatures bleed ink. It's an insane place, dark, chaotic even. Still there is some hope. One of the god's oracles spoke of an Artist that would bring life back into the ruins, an artist that would bleed paint themselves. An artist which would put Inkling back at rights and restore the gods back to what they were. As no one knew of the tragedy yet to come, no one payed attention to the oracle. Especially since everyone was an artist back then. Many artists have had the Oracle's words thrust upon them, most quailed under the pressure.
Art was a gift all these people were given, they could draw a tree and there it would stand. They drew beautiful things! They drew, they painted, they sculpted! They watched as creation after creation came alive beneath their fingertips. It was truly wonderful! While the gift of art was here it seemed the place had a purpose-- to inspire. To help breath life into the art. The artists brought creatures to this world, strange imaginative creatures that you may still find around today.
Then, it went all wrong. Why? I know little more than you. The gods, the laughing gods which found the place as funny and as enchanting as the inhabitants went insane. Some screamed while others laughed, their sanity gone within days. The gods which had once brought vibrancy and life to the place were now twisted and dark, unable to see sense. The gods had never been truly sane, they were always a little mad. Not like this, they'd been known as The Laughing Pantheon, because nothing had ever been serious in Inkling. All I really know is that the gods went insane at around the time the factories went up... The gift of art vanished, many of the artists died unable to really live without their work. It's been many years since the gods (and goddesses) went insane. Artists are now born, few and far between. Like rare animals they are hunted by some while revered by others. Many go insane from the pressure they are under, they tend to hide away from the main population of Inkling. They keep themselves to The Painted City, sometimes selling the creatures they create, other times just hiding away.
In short Inkling is a strange, almost twisted realm. Where art is often feared and many of the creatures bleed ink. It's an insane place, dark, chaotic even. Still there is some hope. One of the god's oracles spoke of an Artist that would bring life back into the ruins, an artist that would bleed paint themselves. An artist which would put Inkling back at rights and restore the gods back to what they were. As no one knew of the tragedy yet to come, no one payed attention to the oracle. Especially since everyone was an artist back then. Many artists have had the Oracle's words thrust upon them, most quailed under the pressure.
