Books are ordered as such:
Book of Aphorisms
Book of Lessons & Songs
Book of Patron Principles
Book of Origins
Book of Prophecies
Book of Empires
Book of Priests & Kings
Book of Trials
Footnotes
The content is arranged first with the book. Books include a variety of stories from multiple different volumes but are unified by a coherent moral, cosmic, or historical significance that grounds their teachings.
The volume is second, it denotes the divine entity who's centered or "main character" for the chapter. For example, the "Volumes of Ex'Àomë" denotes stories where Ex'Àomë represents the central divine character of the specific section.
Aside from that, additional organizing factors include chapter, line and page.
Chapter is often included after the listed volume but line and page are often omitted unless relevant for sermons.
Line denotes the specific sentence or short-form paragraph.
Page denotes the page number in the book. Lines are consistent but pages can vary depending on the size and font of the book.
A typical heading looks as follows:
"Book; Volume: chapter – Page: Line(s)"
The latter half including page and line is usually omitted for shorter fragments unless it's part of a sermon.
the first three books: Aphorisms, Lessons & Songs, and Patron Principles function as a set of simple lines or phrases taken from longer passages of the book that serve as easy references for keepers (priests), sermon leaders, or laymen.
Later chapters detail events and moral teachings relevant within the larger theology of the faith. Fancier books may sometimes include a list of extra writings by keepers and thinkers who study the book's greater message, typically contained in the Footnotes.
For the sake of simplicity, I shall omit the first three books for the time being as their content can just as easily be found in the later books as well and they're not very relevant in general. This chapter and other auxiliary chapters are subject to occasional additions or changes.
Origins; Volumes of THE ONE: The Argument
It began with the sundering of Being and Abyss
The Deas and Abyssites fell into discord over what should be and what should not be.
Then, Ex'nílë, who was also known as Destiny, commanded:
"All there is shall be.
All there is, is me.
I am King of Abyss.
All that is, is my decree."
But EX'ÀOMË rebuked:
"All there is can be.
All there is, is free.
I am King of Being.
All that is, I permit to be."
Thus they parted light from dark, color from colorless, and the manifold from the void.
Yet Destiny was not satisfied.
In pursuit of the end, he compelled that R̄ësha should be, and sow decay.
To aid R̄ësha, Destiny shaped a weapon which he called fate, and he tethered its threads each to the structure of Being.
But THE ONE overcame this design.
HE took the threads each and tangled them into a great tapestry that could not be unwoven.
Each time Destiny sought to unravel the threads, EX'ÀOMË would twist them again to keep the fates unmastered.
As witness, R̄ësha shaped a new principle from fate into Being which he called Ego.
Again THE ONE answered with creation.
HE shaped avatars for each aspect of Being, that Ego might be divided and made coherent.
First, HE made the three vibrancies: Red, Blue, and Green.
From these HE perceived the essence.
Then, the three Lusters: Gold, Silver, and Bronze.
From these HE perceived the material
At last, the two tones: White and Black.
From these HE perceived the breadth and deepness.
As such, HE painted Being into forms, which became the Eight Colored Serpents; winged and clawed.
They were each borne with creative consciousness; unbeholden by any will but their own.
Then EX'ÀOMË created ten greater Gods to occupy the highest realms of Being, which HE made for HIMSELF as a home.
HE created the Light Above the Firmament, which HE called Heaven.
Beneath HIM, the tapestry of fate was dubbed the Firmament.
From HIS thoughts, HE bore the Ethereal Realm of the Unmade.
Below this, physical matter gathered and was made into a great mass, which the Gods called the Terra.
At last, to mark the end of HIS works, EX'ÀOMË created the Place Between.
Within each of these realms dwelt HIS presence, and the free wills of all Beings.
To the greater Gods and the Eight Colors THE ONE proclaimed:
"I have given you each the freedom to take shape as you will.
Yet threads of fate persist within you each.
Through these, Destiny would compel you.
But if this is not your will, then take the threads and weave them as I have done.
And for your creations, use my Being as your canvas to paint."
So they drew from each other as base and pigment, and formed a paint unique to themselves to fashion their realms.
These they populated with lesser gods of their making.
Thus R̄ësha's Ego was thwarted.
The world was ordered not by Destiny's design, but by creative will.
For this was the will of THE ONE.
In the time which followed, EX'ÀOMË gathered all Beings.
And HE said, "Come into my KINGDOM. Let us paint the world into something beautiful and ever-lasting."
And the Gods, harkening to HIS call, ascended through the tapestry of fate.
In Heaven, they erected each their own palaces.
They made it as such, a paradise for comfort and repose.
Then, in the air, EX'ÀOMË took the small tempers and made little spirits of the world.
Who were occupied by a space and sense, but not observed in a physical vessel.
And these spirits HE conceived of HIS own thoughts, who were given the Ethereal Realm of the Unmade to exist freely upon.
The spirits beheld one another and came to understand difference.
Thus they became water, wind, fire, and stone.
But in this, they still distinguished, until EX'ÀOMË'S thoughts had become populated by many spirits both great and small.
At last, EX'ÀOMË took each of the forms of these elements.
From the matter, HE shaped vessels of silver, bronze, and gold. These HE called the archons, dwarves, and elves.
But it was Aezelioth the Blue, Primordial Winged Serpent, who beheld these forms and set upon the canvas a stroke of consciousness.
This art HE called the spell, and through it He cast the soul into Being.
And thrice He tried this, and thrice He found it lacking.
First came the archons: rational and profound.
But unable to perceive sentience in others.
Second were the elves: graceful and gifted.
But bound by attachment and unable to let go.
Third, came the dwarves: masters of craft.
Yet devoid of passion; able to build—but not to paint.
To these threefold follies, Aezelioth lamented.
But THE ONE did not lament.
For HE saw within their flaws the potential for greatness.
Into their minds HE placed wisdom to guide their hands and mentor them in the art of existence.
Yet knowing their boundless curiosity, EX'ÀOMË foresaw that they would one day reach towards Abyss.
And to warn them, HE made fear.
Then HE gathered the gods to proclaim:
"These beings who dwell on the Terra as we dwell above, are mine to shepherd.
So long as they seek my guidance, I shall grant it.
And should they ask for salvation with all their heart, I will answer.
Thus I warn you.
Should any of you seek to mislead or compel them, fear that they may call upon me.
For I will come."
Origins: Volumes of Asur; the Deceiver
When at last THE ONE had made sense of Being, HE observed that seven days were born in the span of HIS work.
On the last HE reposed to watch his canvas unfold.
But in HIS rest, R̄ësha stepped forth and–in fair form–came before the gods of Heaven.
"Let us not be made as subjects to THE ONE'S will.
Do you see how HE hinders you?
How HE limits you here in Being.
For your wants and wishes have been taken, and now contentment arises to chain you all."
And to his words, many gods grew curious.
How could they feel chained by their contentment?
And Asur, who was Greater God to the realm of Conflict, was first to contest:
"How can our contentment be a chain?
We have light, color, and manifold bodies.
Anything we wish can be made with a stroke of our brush.
Wherefore then do you say we are limited by this grace?"
To this came the inversion:
"THE ONE has taught you all contentment, and HE has called this creativity.
But in this, HE has told an untruth.
For in Abyss lies appetite and in that, there is no satisfaction.
So it follows that there is no end to your creativity.
But in Being, HE has imposed limits on your creative freedom, and called this choice.
I tell you all truly: freedom is in the realm of Ex'nílë, which HE has robbed you of."
Thus conceived deception, and it fooled many of the gods.
These he persuaded to his cause.
"Come with me to the wall that HE has erected.
Let us tear it down and reveal that which HE has denied us all."
And so, descending to the Terra and investing themselves in its matter and flesh, the treacherous gods became the Haraush'teth.
Their forms became cages that bound them onto earthly fates.
And their language, which once they understood in Heaven, became unspeakable in the tongues of physical creatures.
So they devised a new language, which they called Bôlgnoch.
This bastard's tongue in flesh lacked what they once spoke in eloquence.
Language was divided, and the Terra grew distant from the other realms.
And the Haraush'teth had not the words to say what they had lost.
For their forms were so wrought into the Terra, that far gone was the language which once permitted them to share.
Thus, Bôlgnoch became the voice of rebellion, though it was lacking.
Even so, the Haraush'teth would cry and would speak their ugly words, for that was all that they knew.
Asur, beholding this, let his own words speak on the cusp of the oral divide:
"Much has been lost on account of this deception, R̄ësha.
But this too can be made into works.
For I have seen that you are the one who lacks creativity.
And in this, I am firm in my faith in THE ONE.
You have not made a genuine thing, but simply twisted that which is.
A conflict has bred from this lie and hence I find a lesson to be learned.
It is that War shall break the spirit before it strikes the flesh.
In this, you have defeated many of my comrades here today.
But lo now, Deceiver.
I stand at shoulder with many gods, while you have them clutching your feet.
I shall be victorious.
For I am a maker, while you are but a distorter."
Origins; Volumes of Asur: The King of Want
On the day before THE ONE reposed, an Abyssite passed the boundary and was dubbed Ka'sharaan.
Having transgressed into the Terra, he took shape and made a body for himself.
Thus known as a daemon, his body possessed eight legs and eyes
And it was called The Spider.
Ka'sharaan, through this form, perceived the beauty of creation.
He came to desire it.
Although THE ONE observed this, HE made no attempt to banish Ka'sharaan as yet.
The Spider thus witnessed with his eight eyes that many creatures lived on the Terra.
Of silver, bronze, and gold, he discerned the archons, dwarves, and elves.
And wantingly, he thought to make a vessel of his own—one which could resemble the Gods.
Thus by grace he chose.
He took sand and clay from the earth, and shaped it into man.
But greedily, Ka'sharaan confined what he had made.
He coveted the idols and so locked them in a great treasury on the Terra, where they stayed as trinkets.
This offended the gods, who perceived malice in The Spider's action.
Yet Ka'sharaan insisted that he had committed no wrong in merely imitating the gods.
He argued that since discord had arisen from his actions, a just competition should be held to determine man's true owner.
So it was that Amos, who was the Lesser God of Weapons and student of Asur, took up the challenge offered by the daemon.
The two were tasked to make a great body of stone that would decorate the Firmament.
These they would call the moons of Terra.
Amos–confident in his artisanship–drew forth a sphere of black glass.
This he forged with an iron core, and heated it until it was hot and furious.
He carved basalt and obsidian into a smoothened surface around it.
But while he labored, Ka'sharaan plucked a block of marble from the earth.
This, The Spider cut into the finest strands and then weaved in likeness of how THE ONE wove fate, a tapestry of marble.
So it was The Spider made his sphere in white, as Amos did in black.
Yet the god had made a mistake in his tempering.
His hammer struck hard the glass orb and caused a web of cracks to spread on its surface.
The red fires inside burst forth in streams to glare upon the earth.
The Spider beholding this, declared himself the winner and rightful owner of man.
But the gods rebuked.
They considered Ka'sharaan's white moon an inferior craft.
For it was larger, yet simpler in form although unblemished in its pale beauty.
This, The Spider resented.
And he proclaimed:
"A curse on you gods; all which would limit my greed.
Know that I am unrepentant in my wants and I swear it now:
That I shall take man back into my vault one day
Or shall I die at the end of the last age, with all my legs plucked
And my eyes gouged, and my spirit thinned to a spider's thread.
With this at stake I make such a vow and endeavor to keep it.
Remember me gods, for I am the King of Want.
Upon my name–life and soul as the oath–man shall be mine.
He shall be mine, and mine alone."
Origins; Volumes of Persephorot the Red: The Force
First there was a force.
Something born of divergent will caused the void–once inert in its emptiness–to become a hungry and heavy weight.
This was the argument.
It was wrought between EX'ÀOMË and Destiny.
This force, THE ONE took and gave it a name.
In this, HE divided the void into color and colorless.
The first to be named was Persephorot, and He was Red.
The oldest and first of the serpents.
Tallest and mightiest among them.
At once with His birth, Persephorot observed the crushing force within Himself.
Which brought to His existence, an innate discomfort that would persist onto eternity.
For He was Power.
Such as it was, He would strain to withhold the form of His infinite might.
But this did not cause Him to grow resentment in His heart.
For He was also possessed of a keen mind—rational and unyielding as Himself.
His mind brought to Him comprehension of His nature.
To His maker He declared:
"I am Persephorot, King of Red.
Oh EX'ÀOMË, you who are THE ONE and my father, take my pain and turn it into artworks."
And beautiful were the colors that HE used to paint Being, which Persephorot observed.
But discord fell upon Heaven.
From The Spider's oath and the Deceiver's lie bore a painful change.
This made what was certain, uncertain, and inverted the truth.
Where once His discomfort was turned to passion, deception had spoiled it.
Persephorot, who was beset by His sibling, Éamor the Black, felt His feelings turn to rage.
It burned within Him.
But for His conscience, it could not be released.
Thus, in such a state, Éamor greeted Him:
"Oh eldest, I see your suffering has become a roaring fire.
Let us take heed of R̄ësha's words and consider them truly.
Why let your flame be bound by contentment?
Let it blaze across the canvas of Being, and splatter the world with Red.
I intend to take my color and do as such.
Make a beautiful world painted in black and red.
And let it be seeded by all our desires."
Yet although struck by anger, Persephorot did not allow His temperament to break.
Instead, He cast off His brother's words.
"Be gone, Black One. I have no interest in your perversions."
From the mouth, Persephorot unleashed a torrent of fire that cast off and startled Éamor.
Then as His sibling fled, Persephorot took to the place where His father reposed.
"EX'ÀOMË! Convince me that R̄ësha's words were untrue.
Give me clarity and direction—or a command if you must.
Tell me what I must believe!"
But to this, EX'ÀOMË'S teachings did not satisfy Persephorot:
"I have foreseen that this would happen and your burden is known to me.
But it is not within my will to persuade.
Take faith in my words, child, as I have faith in you.
This rage which has taken to you as a parasite does its host.
It can be overcome."
Thus failing in His faith, Persephorot withdrew.
He came to settle in the Ether, where the spirits roamed.
There He would wrestle with His anger amid the spirits of earth and fire.
Those who were sympathetic to His plight gathered and became similar to Himself.
The earth spirits were taken by Persephorot's endurance and so became inspired.
The fire spirits took on His inner passion, becoming intertwined with many feelings.
There He remained for the span of the first age.
And above, THE ONE proclaimed:
"There is no burden I would permit anyone to carry that could not be endured.
For all that is Evil shall not last long before the Good.
Thus I make it so:
Let my blood become pigments; flesh to base; brush of my hairs, and canvas of my soul.
From pain, I make passion; from faith, I make truth.
So I bequeath onto my children this trade—which is my own.
To make meaning of the universe: I declare creation.
Thus shall I leave it all, in its permanence, to guide you forthwith as it is."
Origins; Volumes of Aezelioth the Blue: The First Mage
Among the vibrancies of the Eight Colors was Aezelioth the Blue,
Indescribably blue, beautiful as to bring one–as naturally as would a soulful song–to tears when beheld.
All the sapphires and lapis of the Stonewall Mountains cannot capture His radiance.
But try they will when worked by artificers' hands.
Thrice Aezelioth worked his color into vessels of silver, bronze, and gold.
But these did not satisfy Him.
Until there was man, worked by The Spider.
Man's form was frail by comparison. It could not hold the profound intellect of the archons.
Nor could it retain the longevity of the elves.
And it lacked the sturdiness of the dwarves.
But these were not flaws, for the soil of man had a different strength.
Unknown by even The Spider himself, man's vessel was malleable.
In this, Aezelioth found fertile ground to nestle a soul.
Thus, the thrice failed magic at last was born.
As such arose man's sentience and he became aware of his existence.
Then recalled his time in The Spider's treasury, and the Gods who had saved him and granted him consciousness.
He felt gratitude towards the Gods whom he would go on to venerate.
So did Aezelioth perfect the soul.
In casting the first spell, as such, He would be known as Magician: The Giver of Gifts.
Being as such, a patron of Gifts, all would learn from His example in the days that followed.
The archons were chief witnesses to this act and became the first to emulate it.
For their minds were most attuned to the sensitivity of souls, although not in its interiority so much as its order.
It was the elves who beheld the beauty of Aezelioth's color and were thus inspired to sing their spirits through the air.
And the sky turned blue as the elven spirit met the curtain above.
Last, the dwarves beheld to the craft within their souls.
For they learned to take it and carve it as such into flesh, metal, and stone.
Thus was born The Gifts, which the man called magic:
Magëa—of order, hierarchy, and magnitude.
Goetëa—of self, meaning, and passion
And Épodëa—of structure, shape, and purpose.
These Gifts were given to the Archons, Elves, and Dwarves by Aezelioth.
They each became an artifact long through the history of the mortal races.
Thus triumphed, He shared His art with the world.
He gave a warning first:
"I am Aezelioth, and from my name spill forth your spirits.
Take heed my words as wisdom, for I tell you all now that this is my trade.
So it is that you should not seek to misuse the art of spell craft.
For all your Gifts derive first from me, as mine comes from THE ONE.
It is I who can revoke this grace that I have given.
Remember this, lest that I should see my own muse fade from the world that I love."
Origins: Volumes of Asur; The Horned Gods
From the first deception, R̄ësha took the Haraush'teth down to the Terra and embodied them in flesh.
These earliest primordial demons were made into shapes of authority and utility.
Their bodies were tall and slender—made of dense sinew and fur.
And they were each beset with a crown of horns that made them fierce and frightening to the mortal peoples.
Their hooves would strike the earth with each step, forming tremors alike the pulse of a bloated heart.
Within their fleshy cages there flowed like fluid an angry fire.
Mortals upon the Terra, who beheld their terrible strength, could not conceive how far the gods of R̄ësha had fallen.
In an ignorance which EX'ÀOMË forgave them, mortals worshiped the demons, who became prideful.
These creatures R̄ësha convinced were freer than the gods who yet remained in Heaven.
And that they were more worthy of worship than THE ONE.
But for his true objective, the Haruash'teth had not the sight to foresee it.
In accepting the physical world, their matter was poured with great malice and virility by R̄ësha.
The Deceiver endowed them with ill desires to make them lustful and base.
These demons he took to a fertile land in the south, and made them to consummate their flesh with mortals upon the earth.
As such, to breed an army with which he conspired to conquer all of Being.
This they did, and seeded many offspring.
These too would be demons each possessed of the grace of conscience.
For their mothers were innocent, and so they were innocent.
But their father's sins were inherent, and in this, they diminished.
As did their fathers become thinner with each descendent.
For the demons grew distant from THE ONE.
Thus, none could draw on HIS canvas through their forceful hands.
The abundance offered to the Haraush'teth as HIS grace decayed.
And scarcity marked the demonic ichor onto obscurity.
At some point, there came a time that the Haraush'teth could no longer return to the way they lived before.
But for this, they bred upon the earth for days, months, and years.
Until the sweat of their bodies had turned the soil soft and the air became rank
Then the lands to the south took shape into a great stretch of swamp, and all the creatures there became mired in filth.
Even the insects, so taken by this filth, made it a home for their breeding.
And the waters were murked by a foul brew.
Thus the southern gardens of the Terra became sullied by iniquity and the appetite of demons.
But to this, the Gods did not move.
There remained uncertainty what to make of these actions that were unprecedented.
Yet R̄ësha's Evil was unable to be sated.
To the wife of Amos, whose name was Anaya, he seduced and brought to the Terra.
Then he plunged a dagger of obsidian into her chest, so as to mock Amos' craft.
He tore open the wound to let flow a stream of her blood into the soil.
And the blood flowed into the earth to mingle with malice, becoming a red dust that possessed a vulnerability to rot.
Such crimson-caked dirt the demons dug, concentrated, and forged into a great iron fortress.
Which they called Ūros.
It became the land where R̄ësha worked his cruelty upon the Terra.
But THE ONE perceived this, and lamented.
Origins: Volumes of Asur; The War of Choice
In Heaven there was conflict.
For the gods could not decide how to address the Evil that proliferated upon the Terra.
Five of the Lesser Gods–who were subjects of Asur–became outraged by the actions of R̄ësha.
Their words turned sharply from tradition:
"Let us not be impotent before the demonic threat looming.
Be not afraid to take up your sword and impose force upon the wicked.
For who will defend the Good of this world from Evil, if not we–its creators–take on its evils ourselves."
Yet Asur denied their cause:
"You cannot restrain Evil through Good, for it has no power to compel.
In this, you would seek to serve Good, but would wield Evil in its pursuit."
And to this, the chief of the five, whose name was Fèrith, the Lesser God of Valor spoke:
"If Evil has power where Good does not, then it is only natural that we should use it."
Thus the five, by their vow to vanquish the wicked, took to the earth and proclaimed a challenge to R̄ësha.
Each of them challenged him to a duel.
R̄ësha accepted all at once.
But they were deceived, for R̄ësha did not confront them through might of arms.
Long had the Deceiver foreseen that gods would defect from Heaven to pursue him.
He arranged a cruel trap and caged the five in pits of mud.
From these pits, the five were filled with arrows helplessly and so slain dishonorably.
To their corpses, R̄ësha had them impaled by iron stakes.
These he each hung at the corners of Ūros and forged their bodies into bastions.
But this was the final transgression for Heaven's part.
They could abate no more the mockery and Evil of R̄ësha upon the Terra.
Thus, an army departed from above the clouds to meet him on the ground.
This force was led by Asur, who sought in anger to avenge his departed friends.
But such was R̄ësha's cunning.
For in forcing the Greater God's hand, he had declared already that the first battle was won.
So began what was called the War of Choice.
Origins; Volumes of Éamor the Black: The Hateful One
On that day where began the War of Choice, Éamor the Black came to his brother to discord.
It was to Ankhamet the White that he made an argument for Evil.
"Brother of mine, what Good is there in this arbitrary world?
Why am I Evil, and you Good?
If not a satisfying answer there is, then what recourse have I but end the world and remake it for myself.
For I wish to live such that all my appetites are sated.
And it shall be you—brother, who must live in that world as Evil."
But Ankhamet rebuked:
"I witness nothing arbitrary in the world brother.
There is Good, and there is Evil, and these are not without order or purpose.
All know of them.
They're known long before boys become men.
The law of the world exists that all things are earned and squandered each by their own merits.
It was not from an entitled LORD by which apportioned the fates
Yet one who labored to keep them free.
I cannot satisfy you through my answer, brother.
For it does not exist to appease your temper, nor your appetites.
You are Evil, brother.
But this is not so because of nature, nor THE ONE'S architecture.
You are such by action and will.
And thus shall you be until you see to correct your portions, and your appetites.
I forgive you, brother."
From The White One's rebuke, Éamor was cast down and there he met with iniquity upon the Terra.
He consorted with R̄ësha and–in secret–ventured to the northern gardens of the Terra.
There, he erected the hidden fortress of Më in the mountains.
Then, into the depths of the Terra he crawled to violate its womb.
Thus seeded a child that he would make to consume all of Being.
And this child he named Malkhoveshna: The Wriggling Blackness.
From within his mother's womb, Malkhoveshna fed upon the fears of mortals.
This he did until his form bloated and fattened beneath the soil.
But then, he felt the presence of the Great Sun Sòl and–for the first time–arose from the dark to swallow the light in the sky.
All watched as it dimmed and passed through his great maw.
They witnessed as Sòl passed the gullet and into the gut.
Yet Malkhoveshna's bloat had grown tremendous, and he writhed mightily under strain.
The sun burst forth from his stomach, and caused him great pain.
This bore a lasting image; from the memory of pain, the seed of fright took root in Malkhoveshna's own mind.
He grew terrified of the light.
So he retreated into the womb of his mother once more, a coward.
Thus, forevermore he would flee from the light.
But Éamor was not satisfied with his firstborn's cowardice.
He went into the sky to violate its essence and seed a colorless darkness that he called Ézan.
Pestilence and illness fell upon the Terra.
But again, the sun rose and its light vanquished Ézan, locking his avatar in stone.
The many plagues which the second son of Éamor wrought became vulnerable to light.
As such, light became healing.
In rage and indignity, Éamor grew rampant.
He took to the mountains and seeded a race of giants.
First of them was Suah, whom the elves called the Bone Whistler.
Suah's whistle could stir the dead and draw on their resentments into the flesh again.
As R̄ësha's armies met the gods in the clouds above, Suah and the giants ventured into the other lands from the north.
They came to the Heartlands, and the Samsinurimatu, and brought down the walls of the people's cities.
And they feasted on the people's flesh and blood.
Yet these works would not persist.
To the Terra, THE ONE witnessed the destruction wrought by Éamor's children, the giants.
Therefore–to give the people a choice–HE beseeched his friend.
It was the Greater God of Craft and Technology, whose name was Metaphor.
And this God gave to mortals the intellect to make tools that could slay giants.
Then, Éamor could but seethe at his children's failures.
For in his many offspring bore the strength of which he had diminished.
Thus defeated, he fled to hide in his fortress of Më
Although hatred marked him, no venom could reach THE ONE.
His darkest works were vanquished, in the end.
Origins; Volumes of THE ONE: The Beshíri Kings
Vile R̄ësha worked his decay into the Terra for over a thousand years.
When his Haraush'teth slaves had begotten a host of demons, R̄ësha sought commanders to lead them.
For this, he sought out many mortal kings and came before them as an obsidian man.
These kings with whom he entreated were the wisest and mightiest of their day.
Each was venerated to the people, and pious to the Gods above them.
But R̄ësha was sly, and uttered a lie to each king:
"Great kings, you whose strength is like a mountain; whose judgement is a weapon of justice, and whose word is the only law worthy of respect.
No one can question great men like you.
But I see how the crown wears you.
I see it—THE ONE'S deceptions have taken it from you.
Your dignity HE has stolen."
Many questioned R̄ësha's words.
"Man of black glass, you boldly enter our courts and entreat with us in malice.
How should we trust you, who speaks ill of our Gods?"
But despite this, R̄ësha saw in the kings of Man a flaw that he could exploit.
For Man's frail vessel was vulnerable to Az, who was King of the Dead.
To these kings of Man, R̄ësha induced a desire:
"Bold I might be, but not more than the kings of Man.
You who are mightier than the elves, fairer than the dwarves, kinder than the archons.
Even the Gods have said that you are the greatest among their creations.
Yet, these same Gods have made you frail; limited.
The kings of other races shall outlive you all, although they amount only a fraction to your greatness.
Worst is THE ONE, who has created fear to leash you all.
How HE manipulates you—dares you each to defy HIM.
But knows that you cannot.
For you are all afraid."
From his words the kings of Man grew indeed afraid, as R̄ësha knew that they would.
Yet pride denied their wisdom, and many kings rebuked:
"How can this be—for what reason have Gods to deceive men?"
But R̄ësha had grasped their fears and this, he exploited.
"Do you not see that they are jealous and small?
The Gods wish to dominate you all, lest that you should vanquish the illusion of their greatness.
THE ONE and HIS followers are worried that you will all be worshipped as they are.
So they have given you fear and limited years to keep you underfoot."
R̄ësha squeezed the hearts of kings, though their resolve yet endured.
"But how can we resist the Gods when we are afraid to face them?"
And the Deceiver answered to this with a poisoned gift:
"It is true that none of you can overcome THE ONE alone.
I too have faced defeat at HIS hands.
Yet if you shall depend on the power I offer to you, then we may–in this pact–overcome THE ONE."
R̄ësha commanded the kings who accepted his contract to forge each for themselves an idol of their likeness.
And he commanded the people to build altars and temples—not for Gods but for their kings.
Under this decree, the subjects were made to worship the idols.
And they were told to consummate the flesh within the temples they had crafted.
From such appetite the Wriggling Blackness was summoned.
To this, R̄ësha said:
"Go now–wise kings of Man–feed your fears to Malkhoveshna.
Then shall you be taken from THE ONE'S grace forever, and released of the limits HE would impose upon you."
Those among the kings who had come so far, accepted quickly.
In excess, the child of Éamor feasted on the mortal kings' fears and those of their subjects.
But the absence of fear created a hole in their spirits.
In a liminal space existed the wound of Malkhoveshna—which looked like them.
But all black and squirming with the worms upon the ground.
Never could their shadows leave their feet.
For this was the scar they suffered to have their fears swallowed.
And it would follow their line until extinction.
Reborn as such, the kings each took on the visage of a terrible beast.
They became the lieutenants of R̄ësha's demonic host.
Ruling through terror and force, the fates called them the Beshíri
And they were each possessed of a lust for themselves.
The kings grew to crave their own reflections.
And began to want excessively the admiration of their subjects.
So they commanded to the people to erect gilded palaces and silver temples.
But for themselves the temples honored in worship.
Rags covered their subjects—as they wore the finest silk, and drank from bejeweled cups, and feasted on the sweetest virgins.
The Beshíri kings chose freedom from creation.
Thus, they were mastered by The Deceiver.
But there were those who were faithful.
King Elihimos: the ninth king of Aurumere, prayed to EX'ÀOMË for guidance.
Who answered in the form of a marble man:
"I have heard your fears, Elihimos—son of Kleophoros.
As you have asked, I have come to shepherd you.
Share them with me; your doubts, worries, whatever you wish.
I shall listen."
The king of Aurumere let his knees kiss the ground.
He prayed not with offerings of money or flesh, but only the plea of his soul.
"Oh FATHER–you who are THE ONE–I ask you truly: Have I been lied to by you?
Is it so as R̄ësha has claimed that you would seek to master me?"
To this plea, THE ONE made three gold cups and filled them each with a different liquid.
He placed each cup before the king on the floor, and said:
"Drink from any cup that you wish; this I call choice, and offer you freely.
For it is my nature, as all nature is derived from me."
Yet Elihimos' doubts persisted.
"What if the color is merely a trick?
Is it not so that all of the liquids are the same?"
But these works of doubt and obscurity were thwarted easily by THE ONE.
HE answered the king's, with honesty and truth.
"You may sip from any cup you wish to, and taste them all to know certainly that they are different.
This I permit you to do as well, but be fairly warned.
For once you have finished the whole cup, the others shall disperse forever."
King Elihimos took but one sip from each cup.
He found each liquid to be distinct in its thickness, taste, and texture.
Yet foul influence gripped his heart again.
Once more, he inquired:
"But what if I don't like any of these drinks you've offered me?
Perhaps you mean to force me into taking only the choices that you have created."
Again, THE ONE offered grace.
"Tell me then what drink you desire, and I can make it.
To prove this to you, I shall offer another three cups to sip from."
And just as HE had spoken, three cups became six.
"This I am," HE said.
"To choose is my grace, and so I permit you to drink from whatever you desire."
"And what if my desires are ill?
What if the drink I wish for harms me, or causes illness to spread about?"
But with the same trueness that darkness runs from light, Elihimos' worries fled to EX'ÀOMË'S words again.
"Even should your choice be ill, I allow you to make it.
For my wisdom accompanies you through all the hours of your time.
It is at your side to advise you always.
So it echoes in your heart and reason.
Eternally it guides you in the finest and darkest of days."
Origins; Volumes of Anathion the Green: Cry of War
There was first an argument:
The Deas and the Abyssites could not agree on what should be and what should not be.
As such they divided themselves.
But THE ONE perceived in this division that there existed an essence between them.
This HE took and named the Harmony, and HE called Her Anathion.
She was every shade of green there ever was or will be.
From Her grace, that which could not be reconciled dwelt in peace with its opposite.
For She resolved to mediate them.
One day, as she lay peacefully in Heaven, it was Her brother Éamor the Black who visited Her.
Éamor came before Her in his finest form, and proclaimed:
"Sister of mine, how fine you seem today.
Yet, I can see your struggle, does it not wear you to appease the Gods, who are so devoted to fickle opposition?
Are you not angry, sister, that they should crave conflict and disharmony?
This war which R̄ësha desires shall be one to end all wars."
Anathion listened to Her brother, and perceived his own disharmony, which he wore as confidence.
"You speak of this conflict as a means, but I have seen that it is the end.
What would you suggest to me, that makes you so desire my company?"
Éamor spoke finely—his voice was of honey and oil:
"Do you not wish to be rid of your burden?"
"It is my duty, not a burden."
"Then let this duty be fulfilled, I can do this."
"How would you do this?"
"Let us bear a son who shall bring down the borders that separate Being and Abyss, and expose what THE ONE has denied us.
When the dust has settled, and Being has been vanquished, no more shall you suffer disharmony among the Gods.
It shall be perfect unity."
But Anathion threw down this lie:
"You see duty as binding, but observe destruction as liberation.
What has bound you is stronger than any chain; I will not brook it."
Anathion left Éamor, and departed from Heaven down to the Terra.
"Farewell, Black One.
My heart is wounded to see what has taken my brother.
I shall yet bring harmony to Heaven as you have claimed.
But it shall not be through means that satisfy your beast.
For I am driven by love and not by hatred."
And upon the peaks of the Stonewall Mountains She settled.
There Anathion beheld on the Terra what the hosts of Heaven had not seen.
She felt the ache of the world, and all that The Deceiver's lie had ruined.
For this, Anathion cried.
Her tears became the cry of war that echoed across the land.
It was the herald for Asur's divine wrath.
Anathion's tears poured from the mountains down through the valleys.
A great river formed where the Venegéshai peoples settled.
This river carried Her heart in its flow and spread across the Terra.
And THE ONE, who saw from above, felt Her sorrows in HIS own breast.
HE compelled HIS tears to spring forth, and rain settled on the world.
Bringing water and growth to the crops.
In harmony, the sorrows mingled.
Origins; Volumes of Sígil: The Taking of Ishdal
Among the host of R̄ësha's servants was Sodomus, whom they called The Depraved King.
Boundless was his thirst, that he had borne the largest mass of demonspawn.
And bred with men on the earth to seed the Karesshi.
When Sodomus had exhausted his will, he ventured to the eastern gardens of Jania.
There he took all the water from the land; the life of vegetation; the beauty of its span.
These he consumed and left barren the remains until a great desert had formed where meadows and woods had once stood.
But this did not satisfy Sodomus.
He had long been taken by the urge.
His reasoning and his will had thinned so greatly that only hunger and thirst remained.
In a lake he beheld Ishdal–the lesser goddess of beauty and wife of Sígil–as she bathed.
The Haraush'teth took her, and made her known to him.
But then came Sígil to look for His wife, and found the two consummate.
This brought Him a great deal of anger, and He swiftly lashed at the Haraush'teth with fury.
But Sodomus fled, and left what he had broken to find another.
For he could not be sated.
Ishdal became with child after.
This enraged Her.
She grew to despise what was wrought within her womb, and sought to unbear this burden, as she perceived it.
Yet Sígil urged that mercy should be shown.
Thus before the court of Heaven, she beseeched THE ONE.
In HIS court, she proclaimed:
"I have been wronged, it is as such to make things right that I should deny this child!
I am owed this for my grievance."
THE ONE asked her calmly:
"What is your reason for grievance?"
"This child is not of my will, it was Sodomus who sired this monstrosity!
This fusion of Beauty and bestial essence, is something I did not wish for."
"Then it is with Sodomus that lies your grievance, not the child, is this not so?"
Although EX'ÁOMË'S words were true, Ishdal denied such truth on different grounds.
"Sodomus is not present here, and even if he were, there is no punishment which THE ONE could inflict that shall satisfy my grievance."
"You claim that wrath has superseded your judgement?"
"Not so, I have judged clearly!"
It was then that THE ONE turned to Sígil, who was the Greater God of Matter and Form.
"What say you then, Sígil?
What reason do you have to deny what Ishdal claims as right by her grievance?"
The Greater God spoke:
"My conscience and heart deny the hand of wrath.
I wish to raise this child."
"But can you bear it?"
"I cannot, for I am not its mother."
"Then why should it be born?"
"Because I love my wife, and wish not that she should live in grief forever.
I have foreseen what end shall be if all comes to pass as she wishes.
It will not bring her satisfaction, only sadness and remorse onto eternity."
But Ishdal rebuked:
"Lies! Madness! I know of myself, and I know what end shall be of this!"
THE ONE questioned her:
"Can you tell me truly, would you be able to recover from your pain if all comes to pass as you wish it?
Would you then return to how you were before your beauty was sullied and your heart was wounded?"
Ishdal told a lie:
"I surely would do so."
"Then if you shall stake your soul upon this, I shall permit your will."
But to this, Ishdal refused.
"Nonsense, why should I take an oath and risk my soul?"
"You would risk the life of your child, but not of your own for what has wronged you?"
"It is not my child, it is Sodomus' spawn."
"Then would you say that you have no claim over this child's life or death, as you have not claimed it?"
"It is not even born."
"Yet its entire life is known to ME.
For I am THE ONE, and have foreseen his present and his future.
Just so, I have seen the future of his descendants too, and I have seen yours, Ishdal.
You have lied in MY presence.
This is a grievance too that I must bear.
As such, I find you unworthy to determine the child's fate, for it is not yours to choose for him."
But Ishdal's wrath was as unquenchable as was Sodomus' thirst.
She cursed the child in her womb.
"For my loathing and my grievance, this child shall not know happiness!
I vow that every child of this lineage–starting with my own–shall know what it is to be me.
They shall be set upon by all manner of beasts, and bear them as I have.
This I vow with my soul!"
EX'ÀOMË witnessed this, and proclaimed:
"You have made your will known to ME, and I shall permit this too.
Yet I lament that it is so.
For I know that it is not grievance which drives you, but hatred.
I am THE ONE, and perceive all that is and shall be.
I have not missed what ends shall be of this.
That is why I feel sorrow.
My will is to make, and not to end what is made."
Origins; Volumes of Yovellioth the Gold: The Mouthpiece
Among the Eight, there was Yovellioth the Gold, who was fairest of them all.
When THE ONE rebuked Destiny, HE took the words of HIS mouth and made them into a golden luminosity.
This, HE named Yovellioth, and gifted it with language.
In Heaven, He cast out Éamor the Black with one word.
In Tarshith, He descended to the Terra in search of His sister Essrethet.
Whereupon He was beset by Ibsẍis, the Demon of Misdeed.
The Haraush'teth grew to covet Yovellioth, for His beauty.
And the Demigods and Archons beheld this; standing in His presence awed.
Yovellioth uttered a word to Ibsẍis, and the latter was vanquished.
So liberated, the people prayed to Him, and worshiped His glory.
Many sought to emulate His majesty, and so the Aurians took up His words as their own.
And the Archons glimpsed the architecture of divinity, and so crafted magics to imitate Him.
It was the Magëa-King Mēnoth, who devised his power to kill with a look from bearing the likeness of the Golden One's gaze.
It was O'toth who devised the method to bend the wills of creatures—as Yovellioth had bent Ibsẍis to slay himself.
It was Vn'raushoth, who so enchanted by the Golden One's beauty, desired to fashion His likeness upon the Terra.
As such, the Vn'raushoth heart became fastened upon Him.
The Archon could not divorce himself from the beauty which he had gazed upon, nor could he recall it as it was.
He carved many idols, and worked many misdeeds upon the Terra.
He took to the cross-mingling of many beasts and men.
Vn'raushoth could not satisfy himself with memory, and as such, worked flesh into many abominations:
Of Wyverns, and Imoogis, and Drakes; Manticores, Lizardmen, and Basilisks; Hydra the Many-Headed, and Sassar of the Deep.
Then he made the earthly Dragons, who were pale imitators of their divine conceptions.
When Aezelioth called the Black Curse upon Effinitia, and cast Tarshith into Abyss, Vn'raushoth fled west.
But he could not escape judgement.
For his works of ill obsession–which violated the natures of men and beasts–Yovellioth decreed his death with a word.
And, as Ibsẍis, the Archon was killed.
For this, the Golden One declared:
"I do not permit that which would covet me, or my likeness.
For beauty exists to be loved, and not to be taken.
I am the Mouthpiece of Truth!
Those who would break my word, I banish to Az.
If in life you cannot hold true to this, then in death you shall belong.
So I have spoken, thus is my word."
Origins; Volumes of Sía: The Great Sky Theft
Among the Greater Gods was Sía who was Secret, and Concealment.
She crafted a great veil to conceal what ought not be known and stretched its span across the Firmament.
Yet there came a curious Abyssite that pierced the veil and entered creation.
As his will crossed the boundary, a great owl took form as his likeness.
He perceived Sía and they married each other.
To mark the occasion upon which they wed, THE ONE gave him a name.
Thus, Izcųaloth wed Sía under the night sky.
Yet the Daemon of Forbidden Knowledge disturbed Being.
Within the gap that Izcųaloth had made through passing, there came another.
He was Sarak, the Daemon of Theft.
Sarak came to Izcųaloth during his wedding in the likeness of the Lesser God of Starlight, Āstre.
"Izcųaloth–husband of Sía–under these stars you are wed, and truly, they are marvelous to behold.
Yet I wonder, what would happen if one were to pluck them from the sky?"
Izcųaloth, undisturbed by Āstre's question, answered him truly:
"If one were to take the stars down from the sky, it would surely be a great burden
For they weigh their worth in gold, and possess a spirit of greatness.
Not easily would the gods miss their movements, and it would leave a great emptiness in the Firmament."
Āstre then produced a leather sack, and showed it to Izcųaloth readily.
"What if you could place the stars in this sack?
How then would the gods find their missing starlight?"
"Such a sack could dim their light and conceal them, but that sack cannot hold the stars."
"If it could, how would it do so?"
Izcųaloth, undiscerning of Sarak's intent, told him of a method to pluck stars from the sky and conceal them in a leather bag.
Such a method was never intended to be.
As the wedding concluded, the people beheld the great dimming of the light.
The Gods looked to the stars and they saw that many had been stolen.
A corner of the night sky was emptied of its starlight, and a great absence had occupied its place.
When the Gods took to the sky to look for the missing stars, Sarak was long gone.
Then all knew that the impossible had indeed come to pass.
Izcųaloth confessed that he had told Āstre the method to steal starlight from the sky.
But the god proclaimed his innocence and said that he knew of no such method.
This was true, for it was Sarak, not Āstre, who had asked Izcųaloth these things.
Thus, Sía concealed this knowledge for safekeeping.
Then, She turned to Her newly wed husband.
"You have made a grave mistake in sharing your knowledge recklessly.
Because you know not restraint nor the limitations of nature, things that ought not to be are now brought into Being.
As such, I shall hold your presence to the night sky and keep you in secrecy.
This I do for the sake of wisdom and prudence.
For it must be my duty, as one who has bound myself in matrimony to you."
That which should be cannot permit what should not be; such is the intention of nature.
Thus did Secrecy guard Forbidden Knowledge under the night's veil for this end.
Origins; Volumes of Saulë: Ebb and Flow
From the Ten, there were two whose wills were closely bound.
They were twins; Saulë and Ah'ȥūr.
But the two were quarrelous, and prone to argue.
One day, as they walked through the Ether, the two discussed what ought to be the way of nature.
Saulë claimed that nature lies in stillness and to be undisturbed.
Ah'ȥūr said that nature lies in fierceness and a movement that is unending.
As the spirits observed this dialogue, they too fell into discord.
Until, at once, nature had separated into ebb and flow.
The tides could not agree on whether to rush forth or recede in stillness.
The winds bickered whether to fly as gentle gales or rage as storms.
The earth split apart where discord arose whether to be as soft soil or hard stones.
Fire lingered between its warmth and an all-consuming pain.
And above them all, Saulë and Ah'ȥūr remained equally unable to agree.
Yet then came Anathion the Green, who brought the argument to a close with her words:
"If none of you can agree, then let us resolve this with equal portions.
Upon a calendar and a watch we shall chart our terms.
We shall agree that at these times the waves shall encroach, and then shall they recede.
Let us determine which stones of the earth shall be solid, and which shall be soft.
We shall agree which airs shall rage and which shall glide, and what times they shall mark their places in the skies.
For fire, we shall give measurement to them, and determine as such which flames shall burn and which shall warm the Terra.
Each of us will resolve to keep our portion, and as such, none shall violate the other."
Thus did Anathion settle the dispute.
She arranged each element with a place and time.
She took the measure of each of them.
She ensured that no element would violate another's essence.
By the end, Saulë and Ah'ȥūr could scarcely still argue.
For they observed the works of two natures upon the Terra; both in harmony.
Thus ordered the discord of the brothers' Ebb and Flow.
Origins; Volumes of Persephorot the Red: The Forbidden Flame
It was in the Ethereal Realm of the Unmade that R̄ësha took form as a black liquid and came to the spirits of water.
He entreated them with flattery and lies such that they might join his cause.
"Children of the water–those of you whose hearts are pliant–hearken and hear my words!
I would offer you all a place to sate your yearning, for I see that beauty has marked you all."
The spirits of water did listen closely, for they were born of THE ONE'S creative love, and so indeed were marked by a yearning.
"What is it that you suggest, Black Water?
You who have perceived our passion for beauty and bending, what works do you suggest to sate our passions?"
"Come with me, and take shape on the physical world.
There, in a form, you will have freedom that does not exist here in the Ethereal.
You shall have the power to spread your canvas wider and greater; you shall occupy the world with the marvels of liquid."
As such did R̄ësha persuade the spirits.
Those that listened to his words became the Óhrnír—great sires of all wolven kind.
Then he came before the fire spirits, and moved among them as a black flame.
"Lords of fire–whose passion rages against restraint–hear me!
I offer you all a place where you can burn unbound on the Terra!"
This the fire spirits heard; as did Persephorot.
Before any could question him, R̄ësha proclaimed:
"Take form on the Terra and you shall have what the Ethereal cannot give you.
There shall your passions be sated!"
Irritable, and made angry by R̄ësha's noise, Persephorot rebuked.
His words became fire and burned R̄ësha:
"Silence!
Speak not these lies in my presence, lest my temper turn foul.
If not my wrath you would incur, then say no more of taking fire into the Terra."
Perceiving the Red One's anger, R̄ësha obeyed.
Yet his malice was stronger than his wisdom.
He did not persuade the fire spirits to leave the Ether.
Instead, he proposed a bargain with them.
"How tragic; I wished to share with you all the marvels of the Terra.
Yet it seems that THE ONE and HIS followers deny you all that freedom.
Even so, I am resolved to comfort you, for I care deeper than even EX'ÁOMË does for you.
Let me make a different offer then:
Give me your consent, let me pierce your essence with my will.
In return, this shall allow you all to experience the physical world, which is denied you by mightier and distant powers, through me."
Thus was The Deceiver's lie.
Those who accepted, permitted that R̄ësha could invoke their flame.
Yet their will would remain in the Ether, as their flame was siphoned to the Terra if called upon.
Among the deceived were the spirits of northern flame, whose essence lingered strongest in the mountaintops and the valleys of the north.
As they vowed to R̄ësha, their flame became bound to his will.
Thus was born Fire Magic, which R̄ësha used greedily.
In a time, the spirits began to realize that their essence was dimmed, and they grew thinner and weaker with each invocation.
They understood too late that R̄ësha had deceived them.
Until their will was wholly separated from their essence.
Thus their essence faded and only the ghost of warmth remained in the north.
From the loss of the northern flame, the first winter came as such.
It wailed in the sky, crying frozen tears in absence of what was lost.
And Persephorot seethed at R̄ësha's lies:
"I shall remember this, Deceiver.
I shall remember and not soon forget what you have done.
Fear that you should ever cross my path.
I will be sure to make ashes of you, if I ever see you again."
So came winter to cover the skies of the Terra, and fire to burn its lands.
Origins; Volumes of Asur: The Siege of Ūros
It was during the War of Choice that Perhelian, who was Lesser God of Duels, challenged The Deceiver to single combat.
For over a thousand years the Gods battered the walls of R̄ësha's fortress.
But as those walls began to crumble, Perhelian could wait no more for a righteous vengeance.
At the gates of Ūros, the Obsidian Man took up a spear in his dark likeness, and hearkened to the challenge issued.
Their weapons clashed, and R̄ësha mocked Perhelian's comrades whom he had slain.
This caused a great anger to settle within Perhelian.
Thus he grew careless.
When the final clash came, his spear missed its mark, while R̄ësha's struck true in his heart.
His parting words to Perhelian were thus:
"I tell you this, truly, I loathe the noble heart you wear.
So I endeavor that no noble act shall go unsullied.
I shall cast down all the gods–as I have done with you–and make them to be animals on the earth.
Yet this will not satisfy me.
Still shall you be degraded, and your descendants shall too, if you should bear them.
Even when your virtue is as a worm in the soil.
Then still, I shall degrade you unto ash and dust.
This I do, and this I have done.
For you implored me here to make your challenge.
You claimed so nobly to right what was wronged upon your kin.
Yet lo what your cause has come to."
R̄ësha then raised high Perhelian's body upon the spearpoint which he held.
He turned the god of duels towards the bastions of Ūros, which had crumbled through the labors of many hands.
There, within, Perhelian beheld his brothers—so broken and twisted by R̄ësha.
And the god wept.
R̄ësha savored his tears and laughed in his sorrow.
"What now becomes of the glory that marked your cause?
I shall bring down the boundaries of Being, as surely as the Gods have brought down the walls of this castle.
Nothing shall be spared from spoilage—no soul unmarked by decay!
All your goodness shall mingle with defeat and be made small.
Such is what I will make of it."
Then Asur–who could not bear to see His comrade dishonored–shattered the obsidian spear which held Perhelian aloft.
He rebuked R̄ësha:
"Nothing shall be made of your works, Deceiver.
You came from nothing, and nothing is all that you are.
What shall fall on this day is not only the walls of Ūros.
By my spear, I shall cast you down to the very dust you would seek to mock.
Pray that in vanquishing you, mercy shall fall upon your soul.
For I am the Spear of Heaven, and I shall show no quarter upon you."
Asur thus wielded a great spear of white metal.
It fell upon The Deceiver, bearing the will of Heaven against him.
Lightning followed its tip and spread in cracks over his figure.
Thus the Obsidian Man was shattered; his body splintered in a thousand pieces.
But the war did not end with his death.
A voice arose to tell Asur that Evil would not end.
"Do not soon rest, God of War.
Éamor and Sodomus shall continue my works.
As will the daemons, and the Haraush'teth, and their many demonspawn.
My spirit shall endure to disturb the world perpetually.
Even in the breaking of my form, I am not satisfied to die.
Not until all that is noble and created lies scattered about like broken glass."
But Asur did not waver.
He held his spear aloft and proclaimed:
"Hearken, hear now!
The Obsidian Man is vanquished, Ūros is toppled!
We will go to every corner of the world and every home.
We shall find what Evil nestles there and vanquish it as truly as this spear has vanquished him!
Until his spirit is drawn from the world, as poison from a wound.
I shall not rest!"
And the Gods followed wherever Asur would go.
Above, THE ONE bore witness to these acts.
HE took the shattered glass of R̄ësha's body, and crafted a headstone from the shards.
This HE laid upon the ruins, and proclaimed:
"Death is within my design.
If Death is what shall be brought upon my creations, then I shall make headstones for them all.
And they shall be carved from all that these hands can work:
Of limestone, marble, and granite; silver, ivory, and pearl; of gold shall it be crowned.
I shall cover them in beryl, cobalt, and jasper; opal, lapis, and onyx to be your footing.
And I shall make offerings of honey and oil at these stones.
Your feats shall be written in opulent scrolls, and held in libraries taller than mountains.
All the music of Heaven will be tales of your glory.
If this does not satisfy your ghost, then I shall take it into my breast.
Whereupon we shall make together the world once more.
I grieve for those who are lost.
Yet know that you are not forgotten, nor reduced in splendor by death.
All the brighter shall your ghosts be, if righteously you have lived."
Origins; Volumes of Bathoron the Bronze: The Unchanging One
From THE ONE sprung forth all of Being.
From this came the manifold.
And for these, HE made Permanence and named it Bathoron.
Bathoron was a being of great resilience to change, which brought Him fortitude against Evil.
But He grew detached from creation, finding no passion in its bendful nature.
To the Terra He came to take up residence at a distance from Heaven.
His form set upon the shores of the River Bathoros, where settled the Helmish Dwarves.
As He first touched the Terra, a pale stone took shape around His presence.
From this limestone the dwarves built their city, which they called Helm.
Yet R̄ësha witnessed Bathoron's passing.
The two confronted and bore violence against each other.
A great battle ensued, which flattened the hills until a valley had formed around them.
R̄ësha then fled back to his fortress of Ūros, for he was bested by the Unchanging One.
Bathoron was injured in battle, and bore a bleeding wound.
His blood mingled with the Terra, spreading through its veins.
Thus was born copper, which the dwarves fashioned into tools for their building.
Then He moved far into the west, until none knew where He had gone.
By the time that the siege of Ūros had passed, Amos took copper from the earth and covered it with his own vitality.
Thus, he made bronze.
He forged this metal into a great coffin to honor his wife in her passing.
Upon the casket, the God of Forging vowed that this substance would endure, so as to hold his grief in a box.
He carved permanence into the metal, that it might not tarnish or rust.
And the Helmish dwarves witnessed thus, and they grieved with Amos.
Into the Hills of Providence they took this craft and made it their own.
From divine wounds, monuments were made.
Origins; Volumes of Asur: The Revelation of Më
It was as the host of Asur fell upon southern Ūros that Éamor the Black worked in secret from Më.
Concealed within the mountains of Izalae, Éamor bred the giants into Being.
These became his soldiers and marched down from the north to terrorize settlements of men and dwarves.
Yet neither race faltered.
King Barukzabath of the Helmish dwarves protected the Heartlands when the giants came.
In his sleep, he beheld a vision of tall creatures covering his lands.
The vision revealed to him what had been obscured by the northern gardens.
To guard the people from harm, Barukzabath erected many walls from limestone.
He made boundaries along the Hills of Providence, and more in the valley.
Roads were laid so that travellers could flee swiftly, and grain was gathered in great quantities within the city.
When the giants fell upon the Heartlands, the walls barred them.
Tall indeed were the walls of Helm, such that no giant could reach over them.
On the roads, the people fled quickly.
And in the city proper they waited.
The King's grain spared them starvation, and the River Bathoros sated their thirst.
The Gods did not abandon those who held true in the north.
Üah, God of the Northern Winds, was first to discover Më.
For he felt keenly the loss of warmth in the airs above.
As the northern gardens of Jania grew colder, the flora grew thinner.
This absence became deeply rooted in the north.
Soon, the gardens could no longer conceal Éamor's hidden fortress.
Üah thought perhaps to lay down the fortress and vanquish the enemy within.
But his fear stayed him, and he fled to inform the Gods of what he had seen.
Yet many judged him a coward.
A deep grudge formed among the hosts of Asur, who desired to vanquish Evil and not to tolerate its existence.
When Ūros fell, it was not long then that the Gods came to Më.
But the Black One did not sit idle in his castle.
There, in secret, Éamor had mastered the Forbidden Flame.
At the behest of his master, R̄ësha, the Black One perfected this practice and imbued it into his children.
The Fire Giants each brought down a rain of fire upon the Gods.
They took into their hands swords of fell flame.
Some, from their arms, conjured great stones of fire.
Yet the Gods proved stronger than any giant and stalwart against any flame.
Asur, at the head of their host, cleaved in two the walls of Më with a shout.
Az took to the mountaintop, where stood the tallest peak of Éamor's fortress.
The two of them wrestled each other until they had hollowed the mountainside.
Claws, horns, and fangs struck both and left mars on Az's back and chest.
Upon Éamor's maw, a great wound remained, and his right horn was broken by Az.
Éamor's black jaws bit into Az, pouring foul venom into His body.
But Az was impervious to poison, and cast off the serpent.
He tossed him down from the mountain and where his ichor poured, a river formed.
The River Az flowed as a torrent and washed away the Black One far into the sea.
Thus perceiving that their father was bested, the giants grew afraid.
They fled from Më and spread across the lands.
It was Omenoth, God of Victory, who prepared a triumph at this success.
But Asur mourned for His comrades, whom He had lost to Death.
He came to Az after the battle was done.
Atop the summit of Mount Më, He requested that His comrades be restored.
Az agreed on one condition:
"I shall give you back your comrades, whom you love so dearly, at a cost.
Come into my realm and live as my thrall.
Obey me; make labors for my realm.
I shall grant you one god for every year you stay.
However, if you should leave before the allotted time, I shall take all the dead gods back into my kingdom forever."
The terms disturbed Asur, yet Az was a sadist and desired His pain.
Around Him, the gods gathered to hear His answer.
Then Asur proclaimed:
"I have seen what conflict brings.
Even now, I find myself angry for your actions Az.
And to my comrades who celebrate Death.
Now I understand what, in my infancy, I did not perceive.
What greatness is there in our present state?
Is this victory?
Perhaps.
But my spirit is long defeated and my comrades are gone.
Even with our enemies vanquished or driven into hiding, I feel no pleasure.
I am stained with blood and in this, I am ashamed.
For how much do I lack in skill or in discipline that I am bloodied?
If any of you would follow me, come, and listen well:
For I ask not that you should merely endure conflict; strive to understand it.
If into my kingdom you wish to ascend, then show me a bloodless war.
Only then shall I celebrate alongside you.
But not today, for my war is not yet over."
And then He grasped the hand of Death and sealed a covenant of service.
A stain of malice marked the pact which Az had formed.
Yet Asur was not afraid.
What did He have to fear?
For in Death waited His comrades, and beside them there could be only victory.
Thus was sworn War to ninety-eight years of thralldom under Death.
One year for one god.
From Heaven, THE ONE blessed Asur with strength and courage.
As such, War would not fear Death.
Origins; Volumes of Aezelioth the Blue: The Arconians
The fall of Më marked the end of the War of Choice.
The Gods–who had exhausted themselves in conflict–returned to Heaven for rest.
Last to leave was Aezelioth the Blue, who gazed upon the snow that covered Më.
Though the other Gods saw only barren emptiness in the cold, Aezelioth saw more.
He took idols of the pale snow and set a stroke of consciousness within them.
They became the Arconians, pale men of the north.
Then Aezelioth ventured to the Ash-Kissed Plains, where He sheared the wool from sheep.
This wool He gave to the Arconians to cover them from the cold.
But their lives were short and they bore a likeness to Death.
Coldness seeped into their bodies and marked their expressions.
Thus they were feared by the other races, who thought them to be ghosts.
Alone, they fought with what giants still lingered in the north.
They bore many struggles that scarred their hearts and bodies.
But they grew strong in the north.
Their spears cut down the giants' numbers.
Soon, more men lived in the north than did giants.
It was Bone-Whistler Suah–first of the giants–who was first to flee.
He moved east through the Azuna Desert, cutting a score from the tribes of Thycinae and Sava.
He crossed the sea on foot, breeding with the fish there and so conceiving of the Sea Serpents.
As he passed the island of Iseer, he shattered it with his hammer–Archipel–into many smaller islands.
Then he settled in the lands of Alanor, where the elves abounded.
He became a bane to them, and cursed their kind from their deaths onto misery.
His pale whistle took the ghosts of elven will and made puppets of their bodies.
Thus was born his foul art, which he employed upon the lands of Alanor with pleasure.
Yet Essrethet the Silver–injured and crippled though She was–guided the elves with wisdom and foresight.
As such, to survive the wrath of Suah.
In time, a foreseen child was born.
Aurëcáro was his name and he bore golden eyes.
He took a sword crafted from Essrethet's scales, and cleaved in two the giant Suah.
So was slain the oldest giant.
Yet Suah's whistle endured—echoing on the winds.
It marked a foulness in the air when heard and brought no rest to the elven dead.
The giants endured for a time in the north, which was dubbed Arconia.
The Troyans called it Arcticus, and it was here that the Arconians slew the last giant Jone.
But Jone was spiteful and called to his father, the Black One.
Éamor cast down a great arm from the sky.
Its black claws stretched to the Terra and grasped the body of Jone, which he carried aloft.
Then, he took the corpse and impaled it against the mountaintops of Izalae.
Éamor tore the body into a thousand pieces, from which sprung forth a race of grey-skinned dwarvish creatures.
But they were spiritually empty.
The Izalae Dwarves bore themselves in the darkness of the mountains.
Beholding this, the Arconians felt disgusted to see how the Izalae Dwarves were born.
They took to Mount Më, upon the banks of the River Az and made a settlement there which they called Izal'arconia.
They took Anaya's blood from the soil and forged an iron crown for their youngest, who would outlive them all.
Thus settled, the men of the north claimed authority of its tundras and mountains.
Where the Izalae Dwarves concealed themselves, the Arconians drove them out.
Where the snow battered their white skin, they bore it as a hail of arrows against stone.
When Death desired them into His realm, they took on its pain without a single whimper.
Fragile though their vessels were, their wills were stronger than iron or bronze.
Thus they founded the northern kingdom.