Tale of the Gods Pt. 2

The Light of a Flame

Now, one should never discount the power that the mortals themselves could wield. Thanks to Tissave, magic was present in every world, and in every world it wrapped itself around not only the earth and nature, but the people as well. Like the striking of a match, an Eternal Flame sprang into being, fed by the love, passion, and unity that exists in the heart of every mortal and family unit.

From the flames, sprang the god Hawallach, who thrived on the passions within others. They glow with light of the flame, which gives them such an exquisite beauty. They are drawn to others who also possess exceptional beauty, and they flit from one to another, or several at a time.

The goddess Shopil, created from the flaming embers of the Eternal Flame, emerged as its protector. She sits at its hearth and tends the flames. Within the flames, she can view the bonds of family. She is known as the Goddess of Marriage and Family.

While Shopil sat at the hearth, she was approached by the primordial Anabra. With a weary sigh, Anabra dropped to their knees and warmed themselves from the heat. With concern, Shopil knelt by the primordial. She asked what had occurred that could tire a god such as them so.

Anabra answered that it was the mortals. With their watchful gaze, they watched the beginning, middle, and end of each mortal life, the animals, even nature itself. Anabra was pulled in so many directions by the flow of time, that they felt they could not keep up. So, they had come to flame to rest.

Shopil asked why Anabra must do it all themselves? Several of the gods, her included, used Attendants to lessen their loads. Could Anabra not make the same use? The older god chuckled. 'You think a mere Attendant could monitor the flow of time like I do? Only another god could do that, and I could not bear to bring this stress on another.' Shopil went quiet as they thought. Finally, they spoke. 'Must it be just one? Why not one for the beginning, middle, and end?'

This idea intrigued Anabra, and to be honest they felt silly that they had not come up with it themselves. Anabra looked at Shopil. 'That is a good idea, but I am too tired to do it on my own. Would you assist me?'

Shopil dug beneath the flames, and pulled out three handfuls of ash. With each handful, she sculpted three dolls. In turn, Anabra took the dolls and blew life into them. And so, the god Ulrren, and goddesses Glagreh and Nalnan were created.

Ulrren is the God of the Past. Within the Memoria Aula, he stores a record of every second of every world. He is joined in this endeavor by Anawallane, who provides the details of the individual mortal souls to the collection.

Glagreh is secluded in her home, which is immeasurably large. By mere will, she is able to obtain whatever the latest craze might be, but only for that moment. Her attention wanders so fast that even her parents have trouble keeping her focused for more than a minute. She is the Goddess of the Present.

The youngest, Nalnan, is in the form of a perpetual child. She sits at her mother's knee by the Eternal Flame forever sketching with a piece of charcoal. On the floor surrounding her, are sketches of every possible future that could be. For the ones that come to pass, her brother comes and collects them to add to his library. For the ones that are passed by, those sketches are thrown into the Flame. She is the Goddess of the Future.

The Precocious Librarian

Ullren's library, the Memoria Aula, is so large that it occupies his whole Realm. It is where he stores the records of every living thing from the past. Every event, every decision, is painstakingly recorded. His and his Attendants days are filled documenting the events as they fade into the past, and then shelving them in their proper places. Some of them are accompanied by the pictures drawn by Nalnan.

Anawallane had her own wing of the library, to store the records that she and her Attendants collected from the dead.

One day, Ullren ventured into the back of the library. A discrepancy had creeped up in his latest project, and for accuracy he wished to consult the original words. When he got to the book in question, he discovered that not only was it not on the shelf appropriately, but that inside the record had changed. Someone had written new details into the margins or marked out entire sections. In fact, he discovered that several of his records had been changed the same way.

It wasn't just the books that were changing. Several of the painting or artifacts that they had collected also began to change to fit the new stories.

Ullren became very concerned and set his Attendants to finding out who the culprit was. It wasn't long before his Attendants brought before him his very own daughter, Shamser.

Shamser, who had wondered how long it would take for her to acts to be discovered, smiled brightly up at her father. She expected to see the same, impassive look on his face as always. She was wrong. For the first time in her immortal existence, she saw anger and rage on her gentle father's face.

Ullren demanded to know what right Shamser had to defile history. To corrupt his sacred recordings with her inane reimagining's.

Quickly Shamser explained that the new tales were not her own. She had been going to the mortal realm and spending time with the mortals. She sat in their pubs and listened to them embellish and hyperbole even the smallest of events. She drank with them as they sang her legends and tales from their ancestors, with each successive generation adding their own details and forgetting others. She stood in the crowds and watched as they recreated or reimagined their own histories. All Shamser wanted, was for the official records to reflect these changes.

With a heavy sigh, Ullren sat heavily in his throne. He was silent for several moments, before he spoke. He told Shamser, how the mortal truth and the truth that was kept in their library were different, for a reason. The history that he and his Attendants recorded were the facts with no embellishment, no narrative, nothing but the indisputable truth of what had actually happened. The stories that her mother, Anawallane, brought to the library, the tales that the souls of the dead told themselves, weren't the same. That's why Anawallane's books were kept separate.

Ullren looked down at his daughter, and saw that the brightness within them had begun to fade. He went on, and explained that mortals needed those stories, those retellings, and those reimaging's to feel in control of their lives. At their core, they all know that their present and their future are based on what transpired in the past, but at the same time they desperately wished to change their fates. That desire to change themselves and their lot in life, was a gift from Anabra, to keep the mortals from being too monotonous.

As Shamser lowered her head and hid her face, her father told her that she must learn to separate the truth from fiction. There was no room in the annals of the past for untruth. After Ullren finished speaking, there was silence in the room.

The silence stretched on, and Ullren wondered if he had been too hard.

When Shamser finally met her father's eyes, a new light, a new fire, burned within them. 'You are wrong' Shamser said. 'The history that I was told might not be true factually, but if it is the history that the mortals act upon, then it is true to them. The stories that mother records might not be true in the broadest sense, but they are true to the individuals who told them. It is those individuals who act and create the events that you record. Individuals who are motivated by the truths and history that they are told and presented with. So what if they embellish? So what if they rewrite the past so that they can affect the future? Those stories are just as much a part of their past as your writings.'

Ullren leaned back as he considered his daughter's words. Truth be told, her argument was very similar to the same kind Anawallane had given when she'd asked for her stories to be included. He smiled. This girl with the fire in her eyes was truly their daughter. Her grandmother should be proud.

'Fine, you make an excellent point.' Ullren stood and approached his daughter. 'However, I cannot condone you changing my books. Even if what I have written is not what the mortals tell, it is still the Past. To lose it would be a great loss.' Instead, he proposed that Shamser collect the tales, stories, and songs, in order to fill her own wing of the library.

Shamser agreed enthusiastically, and from then on was known as the Goddess of Creativity, and Celestial Patron of the Arts.

How to Talk to a Girl

As part of her duties as the Celestial Patron of the Arts, Shamser would frequently visit those who impressed her with their works of art. It did not matter if it was a painting, sculpture, prose, poetry, song, or dance, the creator would be given the chance to make a request of Shamser. Most of the requests were easy enough to accommodate, while others were more of a challenge.

One of the requests, was from a young man whose work of prose had saddened Shamser to a point no other had done before. The request, was for Shamser to help him learn how speak to a woman who had caught his eyes. The young man had tried, but every time the woman was around him, he got tongue-tied. He believed it to be a problem only a god could solve.

Shamser left the young man, and went to think on how to solve this problem. While she thought, she was approached by Hawallach. When Shamser told him of the request, it was Hawallach who had an idea. Why not give the young man a doll to practice on, a doll that looked just like the woman in question.

Shamser agreed and left. From another artist, she commissioned a sculpture that was identical to the woman. She then gave the sculpture life and presented it to the young man. At first the young man was tongue-tied as well around the sculptured woman, but with time he grew more comfortable.

When he finally felt ready to speak to the real version of the woman, he sought her out. However, he discovered that he was too late. She had already been claimed by someone else, the god Hawallach. Hawallach had not only taken her as his own, he had also impregnated her with his seed.

Heartbroken, the young man left the town. He left the sculpted woman behind, because he could not bear to see her face.

The sculpted woman, upset at having been abandoned, went to face the cause of it. In the middle of the night she stole over to the woman's house. Upstairs, the woman was asleep in her bed. The sculpted woman stood over her. This was the first time she had seen the woman's face. She marveled at how pink and light the woman's bed skin was, compared to her own marbled white tone. She reached out and lightly caressed the skin, surprised by the warmth.

The woman in the bed was woken up by the sudden coldness on her cheek. When she saw the white reflection of her own face above her, she screamed. She quickly crawled out of bed, yelling at the sculpted woman to be gone. The sculpted woman tried to calm her, but the panicked woman would not be calm. She went out the door and to the stairs. So distracted she was by the sculpted woman coming towards her, that she missed the first step.

With screams and cries the woman fell down the flight of stairs. When she hit the bottom, she was silent, and her face faced her back.

Stunned, the sculpted woman did not know what to do. She called out for Shamser.

Shamser arrived, and when she beheld the scene, was speechless. She demanded to know what had happened, and the sculpted woman explained. She also explained to Shamser that the child the woman carried was Hawallach's.

Shamser knelt down to the dead woman, and placed her hand on the woman's swollen belly. The babe within was not yet ready to leave, but would surely die if they did not. The godly blood within them would not sustain them for much longer. There was only one thing the Goddess could do.

The Goddess stood up, approached the sculpted woman, took her face in her hands, and kissed her deeply. As she did, she imparted her own godly essence into the statue. Whereas before she was just a statue that could move, think, and feel, now she was a real person. Shamser transferred the child over to the newly created woman, who immediately felt her belly swell with the life. To ensure the child's survival, Shamser imparted some of essence into the babe.

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The new woman took over the previous woman's life, and a couple of months later gave birth to a beautiful daughter named Dropesh. They lived together in a small home just outside of the town. The woman was afraid of her true origins being revealed. It also did not help that she was constantly pursued by Hawallach.

Hawallach knew that the woman was not the same woman, but he did not care. He relished in the woman's perfect sculpted beauty, and wished to have her all to himself. When Dropesh was a teenager, Hawallach became increasingly forceful. On one occasion, Hawallach almost succeeded in whisking the former statue to his home realm. In a fit of fear and anger, Dropesh lashed out with her innate godly powers to save her mother and managed to turn her mother back into a statue. Amused, Hawallach took the statue and disappeared.

Dropesh called for Shamser, and explained to the goddess what had transpired. Shamser was shocked, for she'd never heard of a demi-god like Dropesh being capable of such feats before. She assumed that it was because of the extra bump of power she had given the fetal girl, and that she was now much more than just a demi-god. Shamser advised that she could not help and go against Hawallach, but that she could aid Dropesh in doing so.

Shamser pulled out a knife and cut first her own hand, and then Dropesh's. She then combined the two hands, and allowed her own blood to flow into the teenager. The Goddess of Creativity's blood burned away the last of the girl's mortal blood, and she became a full Goddess in her own right. Dropesh became the Goddess of the Lost and the Missing. She and her Attendants search the cosmos and realms for her lost mother. Hawallach, amused by the turn of events and determination of her daughter, finds enjoyment in keeping the statue hidden.

In the same token, Dropesh also became the Goddess of Celebrations. After being human for so long, and then suddenly a goddess, she realized how precious life. She realized the need to celebrate the little moments of life, before they are gone forever.

The Gods of Law

As the mortal numbers grew, and they developed into societies, their needs changed. The developed codes of laws, and rules for their societies. However, not every set of laws fit into every society, and with each new law, statute, and rule that was tossed away, it was fed into the Eternal Flame.

The Flame fed off of all this, and the ash of these ideals were released into the cosmos. Tissave, the God of the Cosmos, gathered all these pieces of ash that cluttered his space, and formed them into three beings, brothers.

Vogenn is the God of Common Law. In his courts, precedent and standards mattered. His Attendants were adept at researching past cases within the Memoria Aula, to ensure that the same outcomes were given. Cases were presented in front of jury's full of the accused peers. Vogenn's role as judge, was to ensure that a fair case was presented, and to be impartial.

Xishai is the God of Statute Law. In his courts, it does not matter what the precedent is, only the facts of the current case are up to be judged. Instead of a jury of peers, the case is heard and voted on by a pool of higher officials, past mortals who had showed incredible judicial wisdom and intellect, and who have taken an oath to be impartial, and to hear the facts. In the role of judge, Xishai confirms the impartiality of all involved, and leaves no room for emotion in his court.

The final brother is Torneh, is the God of Religious Law. In his courts, the laws of society and government have no power. Torneh's courts are the most varied, because they can judge cases of instances where Followers go against their own Gods. These are very rare, and are usually handled in-house. Torneh is mostly commonly called upon to determine verdicts between other Gods, where their domains may overlap. Most of the time when his courtroom stands empty, he is called to be witness to in-house judgements and trials within the mortal churches.

In all matters, the three brothers are impartial. They cannot speak, for they are there to observe, not mediate.

The Allure of Knowledge

The Memoria Aula is more than just the home of Ullren and Shamser. It is more than just a library and collection of the events of the past, both real and reimagined. It is its own Realm, its own world that soaked up all the power and emotions of the godly beings that have traversed its halls and corridors. As a consequence, the Memoria Aula developed its own power, and its own conscious.

As the mortals learned and gained new skills, a new wing appeared in the Memoria Aula, a home for the knowledge of the mortals. Along with the wing, two guardians were created, the married gods of Vastrand and Kincinnal.

Vastrand stayed behind within the walls of the Memoria Aula. He and his Attendants categorized and bound together the books that filled the shelves. Their books were filled with techniques that would otherwise be lost to time. Farming practices that had fallen to the wayside, a way of crafting a suit of armor that was both durable and flexible, or a song that would coax the greatest silk from even the most aggressive of spiders. Even building blueprints after they were demolished, or lost and forgotten. Under his watchful gaze, no scrap of information was left to fall by the wayside. Thus he became the God of Knowledge. If for some reason he did not have the answer in his books, he knew where it could be found.

To collect the information, Kincinnal was sent off into the realms and worlds. She would traverse the different worlds, usually accompanied by groups of adventurers. Within her journals she would write down the techniques, and when the journal was full she'd send it to her husband. Also along her travels, she would come across information that had no business being recorded. Dangerous secrets that would, in her opinion, cause nothing but pain and misery to the realms she traversed. These secrets she kept with her, contained within a special journal. She was known as the Goddess of Secrets and Adventure.

With all knowledge, there are those who do not have the best of intentions for its use. The best example of this, was with Zhagra. Zhagra was a follower of Hawallach, who traveled with Kincinnal for part of her journeys. Zhagra came to desire the beautiful Kincinnal, and wished to possess her. When he tried to force himself upon the Goddess, she lashed out and nearly killed him.

If Hawallach had not stepped in and saved him, Zhagra would be dead. But, Hawallach did, whisking the critically injured Zhagra away from Kincinnal's reach. He used his own godly powers to heal the wounds as best he could, and told Zhagra that he would reside in the Astral Realm until he was healed. Then he left.

As soon as Zhagra was able to walk, he began to explore the world of Hawallach. Hawallach's realm was filled with the most beautiful examples of all the mortal races, and even some of the fey. Nymphs flitted about the space in the forests and the waters as they catered to the needs of its residents. Zhagra was given anything, and anyone, he wanted within the Realm.

One day as he spoke to a nymph at the water's edge, he told her of how he had come to be injured. Of how Kincinnal had rebuked him. The nymph sympathized, and didn't see how she could have refused him, when he so much better looking than her husband Vastrand. When Zhagra inquired further of the husband, the nymph got a mischievous gleam in her eyes. Instead of simply telling him of the husband, she took him to the Memoria Aula, so that he may lay his eyes on Vastrand himself.

When Zhagra beheld the sight of the stooped and bespeckled man hunched over a book, his blood boiled. How could this pathetic excuse for a man claim to be a god over him? The nymph, terrified of the anger roiling off of Zhagra, quickly whisked them back to Hawallach's home. However, Zhagra would be satiated.

On his own, he crept back into the Memoria Aula and browsed its shelves. He studied how the gods came to be, and how they received their powers. He came across a story in Shamser's wing, of a great battle that was fought on another realm. To win the battle, the epic heroes had needed an artifact. Through a deal with Felarc, they had acquired a pair of rings. The bands were made of pure silver. One ring had a large lapis lazuli gem in its center, and was surrounded by a band of smoky quartz. The other ring was similar, but in its center was an opal instead. Using the rings and a specialized ritual, the band of heroes were able to draw the power out of their foe and use it themselves to achieve victory. At the end of the conflict, the rings had come to reside with Shamser.

Zhagra did not hesitate to take the rings for themselves, along with the tale that dictated the ritual. He returned to Hawallach's realm, and began his study. When he was ready, he left the realm and searched for Kincinnal.

Knowing that he would need help, Zhagra surrounded himself with a band of followers. It was easy enough to locate the goddess, she did not try so hard to conceal herself. Zhagra appealed to Hawallach, to assist him in getting revenge on Kincinnal for the pain she had wrought on him. Hawallach agreed.

In the tavern, Hawallach approached the goddess, two tankards in hand. He offered it as a token of comradeship. Kincinnal was suspicious of his motives, but still she drank from the offered tankard. What she did not know, is that the same potion that had brought Erexeb and Meglin to their incestuous affair, was also within the tankard that she now drank from.

As Kincinnal felt her inhibitions lift her mind became fuzzy. Hawallach whispered into her ear that it was time for her to return to the Memoria Aula, to the loving embrace of her husband. With the god's words in her ear, Kincinnal allowed Zhagra to lead her out of the tavern and away into the night.

When she next awoke, she was bound to an altar. She was naked, and a symbol had been carved into her chest. The ring with the opal center sat upon her finger. No matter how much she struggled, she could not break her bonds.

Zhagra approached her, the ring with the lapis lazuli setting on his own finger. He held a silvered dagger in his hand. He traced her form with the dagger. 'There was once a time when I desired this form, but now no longer. Now what I desire, is the power held within it.' Zhagra started the ritual, his followers chanting around them and echoing throughout the chamber.

With every word Kincinnal could feel her very essence pulled from every fiber of her being. The ring on her finger grew hot, and she could smell the flesh of her mortal body as it burned. She struggled, fear beating in her ears. Above her Zhagra's eyes shone with an unholy light. His mouth was twisted into a depraved smile as he watched as pain racked the goddess's body. He lifted the dagger up into the air, and with one thrust buried it into the middle of the symbol on her chest. She felt the dagger pierce her heart.

The essence that had been pulled towards the symbol, began to travel through the blade into Zhagra. His face lit up in ecstasy as he felt the strange new energy fill his being. He felt the power of the ring on his finger, as the energy passed through it and into him.

Unbeknownst to Zhagra, the nymph who had showed him the way to Memoria Aula, had gone to Vastrand. She told him how Zhagra had looked at him, and what desires he held for his wife. Vastrand, knowing that he did not hold the power himself to protect Kincinnal, went to Ullren and Anawallane and begged for help. It was Anawallane who stepped up. She had encountered many a mortal like Zhagra, and knew how dangerous they could be. With Vastrand in tow, they went to the Eternal Flame to consult with Nalnan on what the future might hold.

The child goddess did not speak, but only held up two pictures. One picture showed Zhagra as a full god, and a thirst for power. The other picture was of his severed head held aloft by a shadowed form.

It was Vastrand who recognized the shadow as that of Zhonnic, the god of storms and competitions. The two of them quickly went to him. They showed him the pictures, and explained how they believed Zhagra to be a threat, not just to Kincinnal, but to all the deities. Zhonnic agreed to help. He gathered his forces, outfitted in new gear from Felarc, and went to Zhagra.

It was easy enough to track him down. The ritual had already started when Felarc and his forces attacked. The battle was bloody and intense.

Zhonnic forced Zhagra away from the dagger and Kincinnal. Though he was new to the power, Zhagra used the godly might that flowed into him to put up a fight. The space filled with cacophonous booms of thunder as Zhonnic fought the impersonator back with his warhammer. In the end, Zhagra and his followers escaped.

In the middle of the chaos, Anawallane rushed into the room. She freed Kincinnal from her shackles and whisked her away to safety. Kincinnal was near death with most of her godly essence having been stolen by Zhagra. Anawallane hid her friend so that she could recover. She did not tell a soul, not even when Vastrand begged her to know what had happened to his wife. For her friend's safety, she could not say anything.

Though Zhagra managed to escape, he was not unscathed. He was also not complete. He had stolen enough of the godly essence to arise to the level of a god, but it was not enough to give him the immortality of a god. He needed the last of Kincinnal's power to make him whole. In the meantime, the new God of Forbidden Secrets and Cruelty ordered his followers to make sacrifices to him. Until he could finish what he had started, he would exist off the energy of the mortals.

The Replacement

With his wife in hiding, Vastrand was no longer able to put together his books. Unlike his wife, he did not have the skills to travel the realms and glean the information. He needed help, he needed a replacement.

With a heavy heart, Vastrand went to the mortal realm. He entered a tavern, sat in the corner with a tankard, and looked. He looked for a suitable mortal to serve his needs. One who was brave like his wife had been, and as beautiful. When he found one who was suitable, he approached her. He led her into the woods behind the tavern, and confided in her who he was, and what he wanted. As long as Vastrand promised to collect the child quickly, she was not opposed.

Vastrand kept his word, and collected the child before the mortal mother could even hold their son. The child was named Rerric, and within the confines of the Memoria Aula grew quickly. The idea of traveling and getting into dangerous situations was not one that the young god relished.

Instead, he preferred to collect the trades-and craftspeople. Why wait for the techniques to be on the verge of extinction before recording them? Rerric gathered the best of all the disciplines, and invited to leave within the grounds of their home. He called these ascended 'Legends', as their skills were destined to become legendary. These new Legends were ecstatic to be among those ranks. The life within Rerric's Realm was easy, comfortable, and everything one could ask for. They just had to be the very best. The Legends were not gods themselves, but they were still afforded many of the same perks.

All too soon, a mortal on a realm proclaimed that their carving skill was better than those of legend. Rerric approached his Legend, and asked if this was true. The Legend scoffed and denied it. He was the best, and his being by Rerric's side was proof of that. With a soft smile, Rerric told him to prove it. He ordered the Legend to challenge the mortal to a duel, with the place by Rerric's side as the prize. With his hubris ringing in his ears, the Legend agreed and traveled to the realm. He gave the challenge out, and it was accepted. In the end, though the Legend produced a masterful piece of work, the challenger did it in half the time with more skill.

With a roaring laugh Rerric brought the challenger to his realm as the new Legend. The defeated Legend, was stripped of his position, and thrown into Anawallane's realm to await judgement on what his afterlife would be.

That move shocked the other Legends. They had assumed that if they lost the challenge, they would simply return to their lives on their home realms. They had not even considered that they would go straight to the afterlife. After that, every Legend worked every day to hone their skills. Complacency meant death during the next challenge.

As much as the Legends worked to keep their places, the mortals worked to reach that level. They did not know what happened when a Legend was dethroned. The chance to challenge a Legend was used as motivation within the guild and trade houses. No one knew when Rerric would choose to issue a challenge, but all wanted to be ready to head the call.