The Birth of the Multiverse and the Rise of Netheril
In the boundless void, there exist two primary mechanisms for the birth of a universe.
One stems from the explosive release of an infinitely dense singularity, tearing through the fabric of nonexistence to create an expanding cosmos.
The other is a slow, controlled expansion from a singularity, a process that gave rise to the vast and layered Multiverse.
The Multiverse is not governed by a single set of laws; each plane within it follows its own rules.
These countless planes, floating like ephemeral bubbles in the void, vary in size and nature.
Unlike in a conventional universe, the gravitational pull of a plane is not dictated by its mass but by the power of its Plane Core.
These cores do not distribute force evenly, giving rise to the strange and awe-inspiring structures known as the "Heaven-and-Earth Rings," where the very nature of space distorts beyond mortal comprehension.
Eons passed, and the Multiverse continued its endless cycle—planes were born in silence, and in silence, they perished.
Then, on one fateful day, the Multiverse awakened.
It became self-aware.
Its name was Io.
Io was the Multiverse itself, and his greatest desire was to ensure its stability and continuous evolution.
But his dream of eternal balance was short-lived.
A predator had arrived.
The Invasion of Ms. Pain
From the depths of the void came a being of destruction—Ms. Pain.
To her, slow and natural progress was meaningless.
Instead, she thrived on plunder, reaping the fruits of others' labor to fuel her own power.
And this time, her eyes were set upon the Multiverse.
Io would not stand idly by.
The moment Ms. Pain set foot in his domain, the war began.
A battle between two beings of incomprehensible power raged across reality itself.
The very fabric of existence trembled as the two Void Lords clashed, their wills shaping the destiny of countless worlds.
In the end, Io triumphed.
Ms. Pain had underestimated her opponent.
Wounded and weakened, she found herself trapped within the Multiverse, unable to escape.
With no other choice, she retreated to her last remaining stronghold—Sigil, the City of Doors—where she hid, biding her time, waiting for an opportunity to strike again.
But Io had no time to celebrate.
The war had left deep scars upon the Multiverse.
Reality itself had been ripped apart, leaving gaping wounds in space-time.
These wounds leaked the essence of the Multiverse into the void, a beacon of weakness that drew countless abyssal predators, each eager to feast upon the very foundations of existence.
If left unchecked, these creatures would devour everything.
Io was powerful, but even he was exhausted from the battle.
If another Void Lord arrived before the wounds were sealed, the consequences would be unthinkable.
He needed a solution—fast.
The Birth of the Gods
But Io was not a craftsman, nor a tailor who could simply stitch the Multiverse back together.
He needed something—someone—to fill the gaps.
And so, he devised a plan:
He would create gods.
Godheads were forged, divine constructs designed to patch the wounds of reality.
These godheads would be bound to mortal beings, elevating them to divinity, allowing them to wield the power of gods in exchange for service.
The gods, in turn, would sustain the godheads through the power of faith, creating a self-sustaining cycle of divine energy.
It was flawed, but it would work.
However, there was a risk.
The ones who sought godhood were not altruistic.
They were ambitious, greedy, and arrogant—the kind of beings who hunger for power above all else.
Io knew they would never accept eternal servitude.
Given time, they would seek to break free, to escape his control, to claim absolute dominion.
He could not allow that.
So, he left a failsafe.
The godheads he created were not simply sources of power; they were cages.
A hidden mechanism ensured that the longer a god wielded their godhead, the more their emotions eroded.
They would slowly lose their anger, joy, sorrow—everything that made them mortal.
In time, they would become nothing more than cold, calculating machines, utterly obedient to their purpose.
Machines did not rebel.
Machines did not hunger for more.
Machines simply functioned.
Of course, the gods were not fools.
The first wave of "blessed" individuals soon realized their fate—their emotions, their desires, their very identities were fading away.
To accept the godhead was to die as a person and be reborn as an empty husk of divine will.
This, they could not accept.
And so, resistance was born.
The gods searched desperately for ways to break free from their shackles.
Some found success and hid in the cracks of the Multiverse, living in constant fear.
Others failed and were reduced to nothingness, erased from existence.
But their godheads remained, passed down to new victims, repeating the cycle.
The foolish never learn.
Time and time again, new gods rose, each convinced that they would be the exception.
Each believed they could defy the inevitable.
And yet, one by one, they fell.
Io saw this cycle unfold and, satisfied with its self-sustaining nature, fell into a deep slumber.
Even gods need rest.
The Rise and Fall of Netheril
But the Multiverse did not remain idle.
Life, driven by the endless pursuit of evolution, sought greater heights.
Two dominant paths emerged: Magic and Martial Might.
Of the two, magic developed at an astonishing pace.
And in an obscure plane, a civilization unlike any before was born.
A civilization that challenged the very gods.
The Netheril Civilization.
Propelled by the genius of the Arcanists, Netheril's influence spread like wildfire across the Multiverse.
Before Io even became aware of its existence, it had already surpassed the gods themselves.
This was a threat.
Io, still weakened from his battle with Ms. Pain, could not act directly.
Instead, he commanded the gods to destroy Netheril.
They failed.
The gods, arrogant in their supposed supremacy, fell like insects before the might of Netheril's ultimate weapon—the Floating Cities.
Their defeat only made Io more wary.
How could he allow mortals to escape his grasp?
Desperate, he made a choice.
Using what little essence he could spare, Io created his most loyal servants—monstrous abominations of writhing tentacles and eldritch horror.
To mock the civilization he sought to erase, he named them after Netheril's homeland: Ferren Mokui.
The war was long and brutal.
In the end, Netheril won, but at a terrible cost.
Though they managed to seal away Ferren Mokui, their civilization collapsed.
But Netheril was not gone.
The survivors remembered.
They plotted.
And in the shadows, they worked tirelessly for the revival of their lost empire.
The Calm Before the Storm
The Multiverse now stands on the brink.
And in the endless void, a single flame ignited.
The flame of Netheril's Glory.