Mostly a quick story I wrote to help me with my writing skills (which suck, BTW). It details (sort of) the pre-history of the world I Gen'd. Dunno if I'll continue it. Gimme some feedback.
WARNING: WALL OF TEXT
Like so many tales before, it began with the gods. They had many names, for there were many races. There was Frigor; also known as Impulsus By dalesmen and Tikari by the race of Nords, who’s Sphere was Misery, Torture, Greed, Chaos, and War. Unguis; known as Unguis the Outrageous by Dalesmen, Nonub Greatshove by Dwarvenfolk, and Loista the Questing by the Nordics, whose sphere was Valor, Courage, Victory, and Celebrations. Nebula, known as such by Dwarves and Men alike, whose sphere was Knowledge, Twilight, Darkness, Night, the Moon, Stars, and Planets. There was Battuo, by the Dalesmen, Sedil the Truthful by the Dwarves, Hallinta by Nords. His sphere was Justice, Laws, Order, Duty, Oaths, and Inspiration. Last of The Five, and forgotten by all but the Sylvans was Oris, Goddess of Agriculture, Harvest, Nature, Weather, and Forests.
The Five ruled over their lands, with Frigor upon his Island of Jate to the east, Battuo, who ruled over the southwestern Peninsula of Rytmi. The goddess Nebula, residing within the stars, Unguis, who ruled the mountains, and Oris, who lived within the northern forests of Ilda, at peace with all. But alas, The Five grew bored, and so they created their own subjects, their playthings, their worshippers and their warriors. They created life. From Oris came Sylvans, creatures of beauty and precision, formed from the boughs of trees. Nebula brought forth the race of men, formed from stardust, so that she may watch them and lead them. From Unguis the Dwarves were hewn from the rock of the very center mountain itself. From the Heartstone, the Zanorlam. Battuo created Dragons; great, powerful creatures that could breath fire and grow larger than mountains. And from Frigor came all that was hated. Formed out of the deity's own flesh came the Goblins and Orcs; evil, vicious creatures. It was not enough. Then came The Fallen; the risen corpses of the dead. Nor was this enough. He created many monsters. Thousands of abominations. And the Shades as well. The Void-Dwellers. The ones that were neither here nor there, the ones that didn't exist.
But Frigor was not content to sit upon Jate with his fiends. Not when the Others had more land than he. And so Frigor released his hoard upon the earth and left it to burn. The Sylvans were slaughtered, but soon rebuilt bigger, stronger. And they developed the first weapons, for Chaos breeds Creativity. The Dwarves, more interested in geology than the affairs of the surface, simply hid within their fortress of stone. This was not enough, for the hoards of Frigor found their way underground. The Dwarves created the first armor. Warriors clad in metal and stone fought the abominations beneath the earth. Their clashes were so fierce that the very ground shook, and could be felt throughout the world. The early men, who had more valor than most, but -- ironically, perhaps -- were lacking in intelligence, fought the Hoards head on. They did not stand against the abominations, for they were a young race, and were the last to create tools of war. If not for the help of Dragons, who had no home themselves and fought only for the safety of others, they would have been all but eradicated.
The gods, while interested, did not take an active roll. Unguis watched with pride as his dwarves drove the Fallen out of their tunnels, and Nebula found herself nudging her fledgling races to prosperity. Oris pleaded with her Sylvans to stop fighting, but they would not listen, for they feared death more than all. Frigor simply laughed and slaughtered millions. The Flames of the Gods raged on for hundreds of years, while the various races leaned Farming, Hunting, Building, and Art. Soon the gods grew bored once again, and Frigor began taking huge swaths of land from the Mortals. Oris grew angry for the first time in history, and she did something never done before, or since. She, the Goddess of Nature and Weather, called upon her sphere of influence to destroy the Abominations. The Sylvans drove the hoard back, and with the combined effort of Dwarves, Dragons, and Men, took the Island of Jate for their own, as four gods fought amongst themselves while the fifth, Battuo, looked on with disinterest. In a fit of rage, the Three made Frigor mortal, and destroyed him, along with most abominations and demons. Some escaped the wrath of the gods and remain hidden underground, and deep within the forests and mountains. But before he was no more, Frigor cursed Jate, marking it as his own with the taint of evil, forcing the armies of the Mortals to flee.
And so ended the Mythic Era, and so began the First Era. One Thousand years of peace and prosperity between the races. The men built monolithic structures and immense cities that spanned miles. The dwarves dug hundreds of miles of tunnels and built Fandhur, the City Within the Mountain. Sylvans devoted their lives to nature, and through their magical studies, and because of their fear of death, grew the most long-lived of the mortals. One thousand years of technological advancements was the First Era, but the second was wrought with despair.
Frigor's defeat was not the end of him. As a god, he could not truly be destroyed, only torn from his body. But only long after his defeat, one thousand years to be precise, did he begin to plant the seeds of madness within the minds of the weak. Soon the races, which had for so long stood together against the Blight, began quarreling amongst themselves. The men grew paranoid, the Sylvans grew wrathful, the dragons and Dwarves were touched by greed. The gods had lost interest by now -- not dissimilar to how one loses interest after watching ants for a while -- and the Mortal races were left to fend for themselves.
And so the Races warred.
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Topic: Namsil: The Destined Plane (Read 610 times)