Blessings flow as mead to be amongst a crowd even so lonely as this. Come stranger, listen to this story of mine. Allow this old bard, so full of stories, to regale you a tale, on this lonesome and wistful night. Surely you’ll stay to hear of the story, the true story, of this our land of rain and castles? A story of ritual, of wrath, of whimsy, of love, and of noble good and cunning evil! Please friend, hold your gin steadfast, and listen to our tale, for you will know its truth by its cut. You will listen, yes?

Good. 

I shall start at the beginning, the very beginning. There was once a time before history when the Gods were of pre-established glory. Then came the Allmother and Allfather seeking a home, and it was to our inevitable fortune that they chose here. The Allmother spread the bounty of nature o’er all the land, wandering north, south, then north again, jumping the vast Midriver, and landing in the hands’ embrace of the curling mountains, and it was there that she ascended to where the Allfather had made Their castle, halfway to the sky. From that revered mountain peak, the Allfather watched above as a quartermaster o'er Her fruited harvest, tallying stock and culling rot. So it was that the Allmother and Allfather brought Their powers of life and death, for that was balance. 

Their nuptial bliss begot twins: the light above, Er'yn of Sun, and the space around, Arwen of Sapphire. The two Celestials were to rule the realm, keeping watch, and passed the time with their petty quarrels. The Goddess of Sun would warm the earth and seas, but without the God of Sapphire’s clouds, there would be drought o'er the realm. And with the God of Sapphire spreading the dew and fog too thickly, without the Goddess of Sun’s heat and light, the land would surely drown. The two would fight o'er each and every detail high above in the heavens, for that, in its own way, was balance. 

To amend this, the Divine Couple bore them siblings: the Flamekeeper, Moraji of Sparks; the Loamtender, Yati of Silt; the Skylord, Vosam of Storm; the Shoresbane, Epis of Sea. To their Secondborne, They gave dominion o'er the Elements, and dutifully these noble Gods took care of the nature the Allmother had bestowed to them. They brought their magics into being and tamed the land into proper form. The hills rose, the rain fell, the rivers flowed, the lightning crashed, the plants grew, the seas bellowed, and all of creation sung praises to the noble Elementals in a dance of ebb and flow. As the Elementals kept the land peaceably, and as their mother and father rested upon the revered mountaintops, all the while, Er’yn and Arwen sat above the realm, watching, now merely passing the time with naught by their petty quarrels made pettier.

It was, of all things, a scarab, which started it all. As the Goddess of Sun watched the realm pass by, the glint of its shell drew her eye. She called upon her younger sister Yati, and asked what it was. The Loamtender eagerly brought them to the Sun, as it was a favorite of her creatures: resilient, humble, and beautiful. So iridescent was their carapaces in the light of the Sun that, in her vanity, Er’yn sought thanks from it, and so went to her mother. The impetuous Sun sought that which would bring life and spirit to the beetle so it may praise the light she gave it. The Allmother, in part amused by Her child’s request and in part to quell her desires, gave of Her very soul to Er’yn a gift that she could use to make life, as she had requested.

The Allmother gave Er’yn Her Luck, and so arose the Tychenine. 

With her mother's generous gift, the Sun had pulled forth a brand new being from the scarab's form. The once meager scarab now stood with a god’s stature.  Pleased with her creation, the Goddess of Sun told a lie to them. She told them that it was she who was the creator of all things, the spreader of nature, the taker of life, the lord o'er the elements and all the realm and spaces in between. In awe, or perhaps fear, the Tychenine became devout to the Sun. In this, Er’yn took great pleasure.

  All their lives, the Tychenine were devoted wholly to swarms of worship and offered unending prayer to their herald, to the point of personal neglect and inevitable sacrifice.  Their deaths, unlike that of other mere beasts of nature, left remnants of power, their shards of Soul from the Allmother, and so entered into the realm new vistas of magic from their graves.

It was only a short time later that the omnipresent Arwen of Sapphire discovered the Sun's new Tychenine. Her brother was so appalled at the indulgence of his sister and the discarded Souls of her creation, that he vowed to do right by these unfortunate mortals. He too went to their mother and asked, boldly, for a gift. Bemused by her Firstbornes’ quarreling, and still ever generous, the Allmother gave to Arwen what he asked of her. With the Allmother’s gift in hand, Sapphire went into nature and imbued the essence of gods into the tallest of trees.

The Allmother gave Arwen Her Humility, and so emerged the Diaphanine. 

Enormous mortals with a breadth of kindness to match, the Diaphanine were mandated by Arwen to take care of the Tychenine, ensuring their precious souls were not wasted.  These giants became their colony matrons, protecting them and their innocence with their masterful abilities of concealment, so great that not even the Sun could find them. The Diaphanine told the Tychenine of the true nature of the realm, of the Allmother and Allfather, and the Elementals, and so the two races lived harmonious and gracious. Her lies exposed, the Sun grew to rage, but she could never find her Tychenine whilst under the care of her brother’s Diaphanine.

So outdone by her brother, Er’yn of Sun went again to her mother, asking for a new gift to create better than her brother had.  A newly proud Allmother gave to Her first daughter another gift. With anger in her heart, and her divine greatsword, the capricious Sun hew the greatest of beasts of the earth and sea in two, and to each bestowed a likeness of the gods themselves.

The Allmother gave Er'yn Her Patience, and so roused the Duanine.

Twained beast with god, the Sunborne wretches were quick to become the uncontested masters of predation. Quiet, cunning, and solitary, the Duanine showed no mercy to any beast or race, and surely no reverence to the gods.  To the deserts, the deepest woods, jungles, and darkest seas did they occupy in wait. The Shoresbane smiled sadistically upon them alongside the triumphant Sun, as her new children sought and tore through the Tychenine and Diaphanine alike. The Sun showed no regret. Arwen was again, appalled, but this time, spite grew within him. 

Sapphire went to their mother, and he asked for one more gift from Her, something that he would use to combat his sister’s wanton carelessness, and to show her the error of her ego. The Allmother, expecting this, excitedly gave a great gift from Her very soul to him. Twisting with anticipation, his mother watched as Arwen took beast in hand and gave unto them this gift, and built them up to be as proud, jealous, and lofty as the Sun. 

The Allmother gave Arwen Her Wit, and so ascended the Pneumanine.

A perfect blend of God and beast, the Pneumanine were and are a proud, haughty race. They became the immediate pinnacle of the realm, and thought of themselves as gods. This, the wise God of Sapphire thought, would certainly be the ultimate downfall of his sister, for her own semblance would surely tear itself and her asunder. 

Alas, poor idealistic Sapphire underestimated their strength of will, and with the rise of their castles they gave praise to the Sun for the light and warmth of day. Even as they drove back her Duanine to the corners of the realm and the rest of nature was cut aside, the praises of these perfect mortals were all to Er’yn’s great pleasure; they could do no wrong by her. Arwen felt betrayed by his own children in witness of the mighty spread of Man, victors of the day and the best of mortals. 

So very ashamed was the God of Sapphire by this that he withdrew in exile to the edges of the realm, ever watching with ten thousand eyes, yet only a whisper in their minds of Man, forever overshadowed by the blazing Sun. Er’yn rose high o'er the Pneumanine as they rejoiced under an eternal day, but the debts of the Celestials would come to bear their ugly harvest: a darkness was stirring in the Allmother. 

Without Her Luck, She attracted misfortune. 

Without Her Humility, She grew arrogant.

Without Her Patience, She became temerous. 

Without Her Wit, She went mad. 

 From a churning in the gut, an inky darkness seeped from the wistless Allmother, drawing itself o’er the curling mountains. She lashed out fiercely against Her devout, the Allfather, and at this, He wept. Her youngest children begged their mother to stop, but She would reject them, and lay a dark hold o'er them, making them powerless against Her.  No appeasement could satisfy Her, no reason She could heed, and Her darkness grew and spread. That is when the nightmares began, and gave rise to hideous things.

Storm clouds billowed, looming. Vosam was first to notice the danger, and fled. Before the other gods could sense it, the thunder broke loose a torrent, not of rain, but of pure Madness: waxen gobs of daemonic flesh, twisted spindles of iridescent bone, and the blood, my friend...the horrid spouts of tornadic blood; not red, no, but an animated color of amaranthine Madness, tinged by the gaze of midnight's eyes. 

The Elementals struggled to balance the realm now thrown into chaos. Moraji pleaded and withheld their mother desperately, failingly. Epis aligned the Duanine's Dragon King with the Pneumanine's rising Empress to fight against the new devils with her buzzing blade to guide them, tenuously. Yati withdrew with the last of the Diaphanine and Tychenine to the far reaches of the wilderness, guiltily. All of creation screamed to the heavens, and the Sun listened. 

Er'yn, the indomitable Goddess, lept from the panicked embers of her beloved and burning empire of Man, jumping to the Curling Mountains, and confronted the Allmother in the midst of stormy shadow.  It was only her light, she thought, that could hope to squelch this darkness in Her. However, with no immediate heed of her lofty words, instead the Allmother struck Her daughter. The two took to dreadful blows, blazing blade against slivers of Madness.  The race of Man cheered the combat, but, saw bright blood eke from their Goddess, trailing luminous streaks across the sky. Er'yn swung her tremendous blade tirelessly, yet to no avail, and as she still fought, the Allmother's shadow finally engulfed the Sun. 

Day turned to night. 

For the first time, Man was fearful. Only by keeping their Wit could they hope to survive and fight this new menace, those awful and powerful things that corrupted the very blackness around and inside them. They clung to their fading embers of fellowship, and so turned to the Flamekeeper for guidance, beseeching him for greater strength and magics.

Naively, he agreed. The darkened generation of Pneumanine became early conscripts of magic, giving rise to wizards able to keep their homesteads and ruinous castles safe once more. But this power was not just used against the nightmares. Their forebearers urged another crusade against their recent allies, the Duanine, as they once had. It was a great revenge fueled by treachery and magic, and soon, the high drakes of the apex Duanine, and even the Dragon King himself, were slain in the ultimate conclusion of the Dragon Wars. The survivors left to the where Man held no dominion: the deepest depths in the Wall of Water beyond the Midriver.

After teaching them what little he could of his magic, Moraji, in turn, went to his own father for guidance. Though weakened and depressed, the Allfather told His son and each of His hapless children that there was a way to save their mother. It would take an eternity, and would come at great cost, but it could be done.

The Allfather told His Secondborne to choose a Champion, a member of each Race to represent and guide them and their kin. Imbued with divine providence, perhaps then these mortals could begin to drive back the hordes of monsters among them, and return peace to the realm. Moraji chose of the Pneumanine, Epis chose of the Duanine, Yati chose of the Tychenine, and Vosam chose of the Diaphanine; and so all mortals would be attuned with a patron Elemental and their magics. This was the first step of His plan to save their mother, who had bestowed them their blessed Souls.

Then, the Allfather, unable to create life, but able to craft with it, made the Birthstone. Atop the curling mountains, it lays, and circulates the divinity within all the Races; each Soul is maintained, made clean, and reborn. This was to stop the loss of the Allmother’s essence within each mortal into the nature around them. The emanating Veil of magic from the Birthstone would see to it that the lost and hidden souls would return, in time, to the cycle of life. This was the second step of His plan to save their mother, who had discovered, explored, and nurtured the entire realm and its inhabitants. 

Finally, to the throne in His castle atop the curling mountains beneath the Birthstone He went. With all His children watching, He gave each of them a final wisdom and removed His very Soul, connecting it to the Birthstone directly. The Allfather became a vessel for the Veil, for nothing lesser could hold the energy of every soul, every life, every memory, every Fated event to come, and ensure that the Birthstone would indeed even reincarnate the Allmother Herself. This was the last step of His plan to save their mother, His beloved.

The gods cried that day. 

And they were never seen again. 

It is presumed by Man that Er'yn went again to fight their shadowed mother, and that Moraji sought Vosam to haul her away, time and again, and that Epis went into the sea with the remaining Duanine, and perhaps Yati is still in hiding with the Tychenine and Diaphanine. Who can say truly but the Sapphire above, hm? Regardless, the morning crowned, the chaos simmered, and the Empire of the Sun again rose high and bright across the realm once more. The night has been kept calm, but only just. Generations and heroes have passed by since the prehistoric glory of the gods, and even today heroes are still to be found...