“Did everyone sleep well?”
Lyssa pulls back her chair and sits down, joining her companions eating their breakfast. She looks across the table. They look like they’ve had a night of sleep. Who would have thought their first night in Abaddon would be in a nice bed?
“Very well”, Bruq says and he takes a quick sip of his mug. “I stayed up late, reading the book Sa’arlach and Daemion gave me. Fascinating how well those translation stones keep working. It would be impossible to read without them.”
Oslando moves a strand of blond hair with his middle finger, locking it behind his ear and keeping it out of his drink.
“Anything worth sharing or something that’s important before we go visit father Karrion?” The half-elf looks at the satyr over the rim of his mug. “We might as well use it to our advantage.”
Bruq raises his shoulders ambivalently, but nods his head quickly after.
“I only read about how the pantheon of Abaddon came to. There are forty Parents and Gor-Thar is from the second generation of the three. Achalion, the deity who’s all about Balance, is the child of Gor-Thar’s sister, Metrona. Not much that we didn’t already knew about that. I could search the book for more details if you think that’s useful.”
Mero shakes his head.
“Can’t we just go and talk to the priest?” He makes a soft screeching sound when he moves his head from left to right. “I’m sure he’s willing to help if we say we’re here to lift the curse. I mean, why wouldn’t he?”
Dargothoth nods and he stands up.
“The puppet is right. We should go now instead of wasting our time here.”
Lyssa groans in discontent as she points at the full plate in front of her.
“I just started eating!”
“Then take two big bites and get up. We’ve got a curse to lift and a world to save.”
She looks at the preaching sivak with her eyebrows raised. She jams her fork into whatever it is that’s on her plate without breaking eye contact and shoves it into her mouth.
“Very good, Lyssa”, he says with a smile, obviously pleased with himself. “Let’s go see father Karrion.”
Luckily, in such a small city, everything lies relatively close together. The way over to the temple is a short one and gives them a look at the few inhabitants of Saal that walk around. It’s a rather sad sight. Most of them are blind and are trying to find their way around the city. Only three of them, for so far they can observe, are able to see and guide their sightless fellow citizens.
Ingeniously, they seem to have found at least one way to make sure everyone stays at least a little autonomous. Wooden and metal poles are spread across the few streets and are all connected with string. The demons without others guiding them hold on to the robes, following it to, hopefully, reach their destination.
“Innovative,” Oslando says to himself under his breath, “but so tragic.”
He wonders how many citizens are left. Did most of them just sit around, waiting for the curse to strike them, or are there so few demons on the streets because most of them fled this place? Whatever it is, it’s a somber sight.
“I think that’s the home of Phenilias Arkhon, based on the description the patron gave us.”
Bruq points to their left, his finger aiming at a building that looks twisted and uncanny. The building is partially sunken into the ground and is tilted slightly to the right. On top of the rectangular house stands a cylindrical tower, gradually leaning more and more over the street as it reaches for the sky. How the mage ever lived in that part of his house is a mystery to the satyr, but so are many things to him. A spellcaster often live in strange or vagarious places, making a home out of them with their enchantment or transmutation spells.
“Well, we know where to go after we visit the priest”, Mero says, his curiosity ignited.
As they walk past the peculiar house, they focus on what lies ahead of them. They notice a big statue in the middle of a garden, which is split in twain by a stone path. The flowers on the right side are a sight for sore eyes: vibrant orange, yellow and red flowers stand up straight, their stalks strong and their aromas sweet. It’s a big contrast with the other side of the garden. Withered plants with black and dried up leaves, hanging heads and a musty odor fill up the entirety of the left field.
They walk straight down the path, distracting by these signs of nature in a land that seemed mostly barren. In front of them is the statue of who they assume is Achalion: a tall and thin body, its hips, arms and torso decorated with bones and small horns. The head however is what stands out the most. It’s a large cube with a face on each side. It looks like they’re made out of something like marble and each face has a horn coming out of its forehead, bending across the side of the face towards the chin. It becomes a more horrid spectacle when they close in and see the smaller details of the statue. The vertical edge of the cube facing them is opened slightly and small demonic hands seem to try to claw their way out of the head.
“Will there ever be a statue that won’t scare the living hell out of me?”
Lyssa says it with a faint smile on her face, hoping their visit to an altar won’t be as intense as their previous one.
“Achalion jzerai, gamin verai.”
They hear voices coming from behind them and as they turn around, they see a man and they assume it's father Karrion: a demon with three heads stacked upon each other.
woensdag 26 februari 2020
woensdag 19 februari 2020
Lore 3: The Five Born from Sin
La’ava Sheran, Mother of Sins, saw how her sister Metrona was continuously busy with creating new life together with their brothers. She did not envy her, even though that was one of the sins demonkind associated her with, but she did want more children of her own. She consulted her brothers, trying to find something she could give them that her sister hadn't already given him. They all found something.
Neg’Crûn wanted to use his own realm to count souls in and toy with them, but he wished he could bring a part of that world into Abaddon. The dismal grey tones contrast the red and earthy colours of Abaddon, just as his cold contrasts the world’s hellish heat. His last son, Baphaan, would become the Father of Darkness. He darkened the nights and blew freezing winds across the land. When mortals got lost, Baphaan would guide them away from civilization and onto a path towards the realm of his Father. Within the black smog that left his body he made his followers invisible for their enemies. They never saw them coming and after that, they didn’t see anything ever again.
Gor-Thar noticed something else, beside fear, drove the demons and devils of Abaddon: their desires, their lust for carnal pleasures. Uninterested to do this on his own, he imposed a new daughter with this task. Graxi’Bela, Mother of Temptations, looked into the hearts of demonkind and clouded their minds with false promises and superficial delights. Looking upon her face made everyone see whoever they desired most and listening to her voice made their wills waver until nothing was left but the yearning for their Mother’s approval. Even the invaders of Abaddon weren’t immune to her mind numbing influence. They laid down their weapons wherever she appeared and followed her to her chamber, walking the illusionary path straight into the burning seas of the demonic plane.
Mahaeleax saw the most inspiring sights when looking into the planes next to Abaddon, but there was truly only one thing he always came back for. The majestic presence of dragons seemed to leave the mortals of the other worlds in awe. They followed their commands, collected treasure for them. They adored or feared them. That’s why the Father of Magic created a dragonkind of his own, starting the draconic lineage with his latest child, Kihil’Varex, Parent of Dragons. Being both male and female, Kihil’Varex created its own dragons without the help of the other Parents. Theoretically, his children were mortal, but they would not die of old age. They could be wounded, but demonkind was wise enough to not taunt them. Very few had aggravated a dragon and lived to tell the tale.
Ur-Gha-Belesh wanted only one thing: to expand his army even further. His demons and devils were loyal and expendable, but their enemies knew what to expect from them. He needed forces they had not seen before, creatures with even more bloodlust and rage. And so his final son came to be. Zhun Xeron, Father of Monsters, did not create one or two creatures to add to the races of Abaddon, but tens of them, one kind even more horrid and dreadful than the other. With these titanic terrors they wiped out a lot of the angelic forces that invaded Abaddon the second time. After seeing the destruction Zhun Xeron’s monsters brought, even the demons and devils felt intimated. They were unwelcome in cities due to their size and brutal nature. They were destined to walk the uncultured lands of Abaddon, swim the burning seas or roam the sky, all ever watching and waiting for their Father to call them to his aid once again.”
“It all started with Baltor and Vexys and finished with their children’s children. Forty Parents to those who walk the world of Abaddon. One more powerful than the other, one more worshipped than the other. They all watch over Abaddon as demonkind lives its life. They see when they are born and when they die. They see who enters their world and who leaves it. At this point in time, their attention is drawn to five strangers that have come to save their plane. They will play their part in the pantheon’s plans, each hero for his or her own Parent. They just don’t know yet which one they will choose in the end.”
zondag 16 februari 2020
Lore 2: The Children of The Abaddonian Pantheon
“Metrona, Mother of Creation, was the only Parent who didn’t need someone else to create life. Before she wanted to help their siblings with expanding their pantheon, she decided to create two children of her own. She created Achalion and Zhylech, the Twins of Balance and Chaos. She understood the delicate balance of the plane she lived in, how one power needs to be in equilibrium with another. Her children, both neither male or female, became her observers, both tipping the scales into whatever way was necessary to keep their plane from falling apart.
Together with Neg’Crûn, Metrona had the most children. Over the course of time they had seven, starting with Eskellen, the Father of Slumber. As his Father sees death as the eternal sleep, he wanted a son to guide the souls of Abaddon into their next life. The souls didn’t wander the realm of Neg’Crûn forever, for these souls were to be divided between his brothers and sisters, maintaining the balance Metrona and his Parents desired so deeply.
Family Tree: The Twins of Metrona and the Children of Neg'Crûn and Metrona
Together with Neg’Crûn, Metrona had the most children. Over the course of time they had seven, starting with Eskellen, the Father of Slumber. As his Father sees death as the eternal sleep, he wanted a son to guide the souls of Abaddon into their next life. The souls didn’t wander the realm of Neg’Crûn forever, for these souls were to be divided between his brothers and sisters, maintaining the balance Metrona and his Parents desired so deeply.
To increase his own power, a second son came to be: Gairyun, Father of Diseases. When a single life was to end, but there was no time of war to help claim a soul for the afterlife, sickness needed to take them instead. The natural causes of death were called forth to the world to make sure no mortal would ever become immortal.
Some mortals were lucky enough to never be struck by whatever illness Gairyun created. Another way to make sure demons and devils didn’t live too long needed to be created and so came forth the third son. Az-Kamal, the Father of Suffering, came for those who took too long to be reunited with their makers. When the body didn’t get struck by the hideousness of disease, the mind makes an excellent target as well. Az-Kamal’s whispers drove them insane. After their will became twisted enough, they would take their own life and became one with all other souls once again.
The problem with diseases is they can be treated and cured, at least most of them. A different approach of diseases needed to be created and some forth the Twins of Plagues, the Father Hortherom and the Mother Gyryxa. New diseases, brought forth by the creatures they both created, spread across the land at an alarming rate, cleansing overpopulated land and expanding the population in the land after Abaddon.
Some mortals found their way to outlive every child of Neg’Crûn with magic or pacts with other beings of other planes. Immune to disease and their minds belonging to other gods, beyond the reach of the Abaddonian Parents, the Father of Death created a son to walk the land and destroy their bodies in other ways. Neg’Krell became the Father of Decay, able to lay waste to flesh and bone, freeing the soul from its mortal cage and taking it with him when it was set free.
The last of Death’s children was Ves’Quia, Mother of Pestilence. She took away the cattle and ruined the crops when her siblings were occupied with death elsewhere or when her Father wished so. Many ways to die came to be when Neg’Crûn’s family grew and some questioned how necessary and useful her way was. When she unleashed her locusts and spiders, no one ever doubted her power once again.
Together with Gor-Thar, she had five children. The Father of Fear wanted his first child to be the direct consequence of his own power, a child that would embody the hopelessness of his victims. Phaeler, his first-born and Father of Despair, appeared everywhere when Gor-Thar walked the earth, reaping with his Father had sown.
To cope with fear, rest was necessary. Gor-Thar made sure that sleep would become the enemy of all his enemies. His second child was a daughter, Valdrad. As the Mother of Nightmares she took away the comfort of sleep, making those who opposed her Father more susceptible to his ghastly influence.
But then magic interfered. Mages learned spells to protect themselves and others from the effects of fear and they needed to amerce. His third child, Gyla Kalera, became his executioner as the Mother of Punishment. She bound Gor-Thar’s enemies in chains, pulverized their bones and flayed their skin. Effigies were made in her name, made of the spines and limbs of those sacrificed to her. Some of those dreadful sculptures still stand today, as wide as the fields the farmers tend to and as tall as the towers of the castles of kings and queens.
When the first great pest spread across Abaddon, the fear of starving to death became a harsh reality many of the inhabitants. The Father of Fear tapped into this terror with his fourth child. Krranz, Father of Famine, became a very powerful Parent in a short period of time. His followers symbolized his ever growing hunger. They lost their lower jaw and their mouth reached all the way down to their abdomen. Even after the time of shortage and deprivation the demons and devils prayed to him, hoping it would never happen again.
His last child was his daughter Jez-Behla, Mother of Tragedies. Fear inspired the hearts of many to act too rash, leading to disarray and disruption. From there Jez-Behla took over. After the right push, she would weave further on the tapestry of the future, spreading sorrow where sorrow needed to be.
Together with Mahaeleax she also had five children. The Father of Magic took less interest stabilizing the realm with death, fear and war, like his brothers. He wanted to discover what world lied beyond Abaddon and what kinds of deities and magic could be found there. Knowing the followers of his brethren would abuse this information, he locked it all away in his first son, Xaviziel, Father of Forbidden Knowledge.
With all users of magic worshipping him, Mahaeleax took a special interest in the covens of witches. Their resourcefulness was remarkable and their rituals exciting, but they required more attention. Too curious for their own good, always pushing the lines of what they were supposed to know. The witches needed a patron for their own and so they found one in his second son, Dhae-Laher, Father of Witchcraft.
Every creature must follow the path laid out by fate, but those paths are unclear, even to the Parents of Abaddon. Uncertain when disaster would strike, the Father of Magic wanted to help fate to pave the paths. He knew trying to entirely control the future of every living create would take away the entire point of creating mortals, he found a different way. If he could shift disaster and misery from one person to another, he would have at least some influence on the times yet to come. And so he had his first daughter and third child, Mor’Chadalla, Mother of Misfortune.
His followers learned other ways to influence their own fate. With the powers of the different schools of magic granted by Mahaeleax, some of them learned how to speak directly to him by diving into divination magic. At first he was impressed with the innovativeness of his worshippers, but he grew tired of answering every question on every meaningless little thing in live. They stopped living their own lives and focused solely on reading the near future and acting on the knowledge they acquired. He wanted this no longer. To contact the pantheon of Abaddon, they would have to bring a sacrifice to a different Parent, to his fourth child, Ozephelyx, Father of Oracles.
After this, it took a long time for Mahaeleax to have his last child, a final daughter. With his first child, Xaviziel, he hid much knowledge away from his kin and mortals, knowing they would abuse it if they got the chance. However, just as he expected, the magic users of Abaddon found ways on their own to discover the methods of magic too dangerous for demonkind. He commanded some of his archmagi to stay in their own plane of existence as punishment for needless explorations. The most well-known mortal would be Oanoa, one of the first mortal children of the Father of Magic. Those who rebelled needed to be silenced. So came to be the legendary tale of Iavolof, his other mortal son, driven mad by knowing everything but unable to share his endless knowledge. This sentence was passed by his second daughter, Al’Kra Daresh, the Mother of Secrets.
Together with Ur-Gha-Belesh she had six children. The first child was not to created to wage war on mortals created by their Parents - the Father of War kept this pleasure to himself - she was created to devastate their resources. Both the walls of their castles they hid away in and the instruments to take them down took away too much of the more primal form of combat he liked. And so the Mother of Destruction, Shea’Val-Zara, came to be. Wherever she walked, everything built by demonkind came crumbling down and returned to dust.
The demons and devils of Abaddon learned to coexist. Beside the few minor struggles that remained, it was peaceful. The Father’s thirst for bloodshed remained unquenched and he needed to rekindle the fires of rage within demonkind. He had his second child, a son named Vor’Tros. He became the Father of Hate and inspired the inhabitants of Abaddon to never live in peace for too long. It was never his intent for all mortals to kill each other, but without war, he would become absolute, at least until the first invaders came for their world.
Sometimes, Ur-Gha-Belesh didn’t need an entire war to get what he wanted. Sometimes, it were just some individuals who imagined they didn’t need to follow orders. When a warlord claimed to be Avatar of War or a false prophet claimed to speak for the Father of War, that person needed to be eliminated. The third child, Mari Hatesh, Mother of Murder, whispered the command to one of their many followers and the deed was done. The Father of War didn’t give second chances.
During battle, killing wasn’t the only solution to win the war. During the invasions of Abaddon, information was necessary and the ways of torture invented by the Father of War were nearly endless. Pain became the most important instrument and so he created the Mother of Pain, Gladryhix. Whenever a blade became the tool of interrogation, it became her blade. She always found the perfect way to break the body and then break the mind.
During the wars, some followers turned to other Parents, but during the invasions, some followers turned to a different pantheon. So was the case when the Enochian forces of the archangels began the war for dominion over Abaddon. Ur-Gha-Belesh didn’t came for those who still prayed to his family, but he did not tolerate these blasphemous acts. Two sons came to be, twins, named Ur-Ka-Mahesh and Namun-Ahr, the Fathers of Vengeance and Treachery. While the first of the two came for those who abandoned their Parents, the second one came to influence their enemies, turning them on their masters. Without them, the number of casualties would have been so much higher. For that, the Festival of Blood is annually thrown in their name.”
Some mortals were lucky enough to never be struck by whatever illness Gairyun created. Another way to make sure demons and devils didn’t live too long needed to be created and so came forth the third son. Az-Kamal, the Father of Suffering, came for those who took too long to be reunited with their makers. When the body didn’t get struck by the hideousness of disease, the mind makes an excellent target as well. Az-Kamal’s whispers drove them insane. After their will became twisted enough, they would take their own life and became one with all other souls once again.
The problem with diseases is they can be treated and cured, at least most of them. A different approach of diseases needed to be created and some forth the Twins of Plagues, the Father Hortherom and the Mother Gyryxa. New diseases, brought forth by the creatures they both created, spread across the land at an alarming rate, cleansing overpopulated land and expanding the population in the land after Abaddon.
Some mortals found their way to outlive every child of Neg’Crûn with magic or pacts with other beings of other planes. Immune to disease and their minds belonging to other gods, beyond the reach of the Abaddonian Parents, the Father of Death created a son to walk the land and destroy their bodies in other ways. Neg’Krell became the Father of Decay, able to lay waste to flesh and bone, freeing the soul from its mortal cage and taking it with him when it was set free.
The last of Death’s children was Ves’Quia, Mother of Pestilence. She took away the cattle and ruined the crops when her siblings were occupied with death elsewhere or when her Father wished so. Many ways to die came to be when Neg’Crûn’s family grew and some questioned how necessary and useful her way was. When she unleashed her locusts and spiders, no one ever doubted her power once again.
Family Tree: The Children of Gor-Thar and Metrona
Together with Gor-Thar, she had five children. The Father of Fear wanted his first child to be the direct consequence of his own power, a child that would embody the hopelessness of his victims. Phaeler, his first-born and Father of Despair, appeared everywhere when Gor-Thar walked the earth, reaping with his Father had sown.
To cope with fear, rest was necessary. Gor-Thar made sure that sleep would become the enemy of all his enemies. His second child was a daughter, Valdrad. As the Mother of Nightmares she took away the comfort of sleep, making those who opposed her Father more susceptible to his ghastly influence.
But then magic interfered. Mages learned spells to protect themselves and others from the effects of fear and they needed to amerce. His third child, Gyla Kalera, became his executioner as the Mother of Punishment. She bound Gor-Thar’s enemies in chains, pulverized their bones and flayed their skin. Effigies were made in her name, made of the spines and limbs of those sacrificed to her. Some of those dreadful sculptures still stand today, as wide as the fields the farmers tend to and as tall as the towers of the castles of kings and queens.
When the first great pest spread across Abaddon, the fear of starving to death became a harsh reality many of the inhabitants. The Father of Fear tapped into this terror with his fourth child. Krranz, Father of Famine, became a very powerful Parent in a short period of time. His followers symbolized his ever growing hunger. They lost their lower jaw and their mouth reached all the way down to their abdomen. Even after the time of shortage and deprivation the demons and devils prayed to him, hoping it would never happen again.
His last child was his daughter Jez-Behla, Mother of Tragedies. Fear inspired the hearts of many to act too rash, leading to disarray and disruption. From there Jez-Behla took over. After the right push, she would weave further on the tapestry of the future, spreading sorrow where sorrow needed to be.
Family Tree: The Children of Mahaeleax and Metrona
Together with Mahaeleax she also had five children. The Father of Magic took less interest stabilizing the realm with death, fear and war, like his brothers. He wanted to discover what world lied beyond Abaddon and what kinds of deities and magic could be found there. Knowing the followers of his brethren would abuse this information, he locked it all away in his first son, Xaviziel, Father of Forbidden Knowledge.
With all users of magic worshipping him, Mahaeleax took a special interest in the covens of witches. Their resourcefulness was remarkable and their rituals exciting, but they required more attention. Too curious for their own good, always pushing the lines of what they were supposed to know. The witches needed a patron for their own and so they found one in his second son, Dhae-Laher, Father of Witchcraft.
Every creature must follow the path laid out by fate, but those paths are unclear, even to the Parents of Abaddon. Uncertain when disaster would strike, the Father of Magic wanted to help fate to pave the paths. He knew trying to entirely control the future of every living create would take away the entire point of creating mortals, he found a different way. If he could shift disaster and misery from one person to another, he would have at least some influence on the times yet to come. And so he had his first daughter and third child, Mor’Chadalla, Mother of Misfortune.
His followers learned other ways to influence their own fate. With the powers of the different schools of magic granted by Mahaeleax, some of them learned how to speak directly to him by diving into divination magic. At first he was impressed with the innovativeness of his worshippers, but he grew tired of answering every question on every meaningless little thing in live. They stopped living their own lives and focused solely on reading the near future and acting on the knowledge they acquired. He wanted this no longer. To contact the pantheon of Abaddon, they would have to bring a sacrifice to a different Parent, to his fourth child, Ozephelyx, Father of Oracles.
After this, it took a long time for Mahaeleax to have his last child, a final daughter. With his first child, Xaviziel, he hid much knowledge away from his kin and mortals, knowing they would abuse it if they got the chance. However, just as he expected, the magic users of Abaddon found ways on their own to discover the methods of magic too dangerous for demonkind. He commanded some of his archmagi to stay in their own plane of existence as punishment for needless explorations. The most well-known mortal would be Oanoa, one of the first mortal children of the Father of Magic. Those who rebelled needed to be silenced. So came to be the legendary tale of Iavolof, his other mortal son, driven mad by knowing everything but unable to share his endless knowledge. This sentence was passed by his second daughter, Al’Kra Daresh, the Mother of Secrets.
Family Tree: The Children of Ur-Gha-Belesh and Metrona
Together with Ur-Gha-Belesh she had six children. The first child was not to created to wage war on mortals created by their Parents - the Father of War kept this pleasure to himself - she was created to devastate their resources. Both the walls of their castles they hid away in and the instruments to take them down took away too much of the more primal form of combat he liked. And so the Mother of Destruction, Shea’Val-Zara, came to be. Wherever she walked, everything built by demonkind came crumbling down and returned to dust.
The demons and devils of Abaddon learned to coexist. Beside the few minor struggles that remained, it was peaceful. The Father’s thirst for bloodshed remained unquenched and he needed to rekindle the fires of rage within demonkind. He had his second child, a son named Vor’Tros. He became the Father of Hate and inspired the inhabitants of Abaddon to never live in peace for too long. It was never his intent for all mortals to kill each other, but without war, he would become absolute, at least until the first invaders came for their world.
Sometimes, Ur-Gha-Belesh didn’t need an entire war to get what he wanted. Sometimes, it were just some individuals who imagined they didn’t need to follow orders. When a warlord claimed to be Avatar of War or a false prophet claimed to speak for the Father of War, that person needed to be eliminated. The third child, Mari Hatesh, Mother of Murder, whispered the command to one of their many followers and the deed was done. The Father of War didn’t give second chances.
During battle, killing wasn’t the only solution to win the war. During the invasions of Abaddon, information was necessary and the ways of torture invented by the Father of War were nearly endless. Pain became the most important instrument and so he created the Mother of Pain, Gladryhix. Whenever a blade became the tool of interrogation, it became her blade. She always found the perfect way to break the body and then break the mind.
During the wars, some followers turned to other Parents, but during the invasions, some followers turned to a different pantheon. So was the case when the Enochian forces of the archangels began the war for dominion over Abaddon. Ur-Gha-Belesh didn’t came for those who still prayed to his family, but he did not tolerate these blasphemous acts. Two sons came to be, twins, named Ur-Ka-Mahesh and Namun-Ahr, the Fathers of Vengeance and Treachery. While the first of the two came for those who abandoned their Parents, the second one came to influence their enemies, turning them on their masters. Without them, the number of casualties would have been so much higher. For that, the Festival of Blood is annually thrown in their name.”
woensdag 12 februari 2020
Lore 1: The First Fathers and Mothers of Abaddon
Page out of the book Bruq received, globally showing the family tree of the Abaddonian Parents.
Akaleth, the Unborn God, was to be the successor of his Parents combined, but since it was his Parents' first attempt to create life, they were inexperienced. Akaleth was a chaos of divine power, a raw and unpolished being, never destined to survive his power.
Their second child was perfectly in balance, a pinnacle of might and magic, a worthy combination of the first two Parents. Long after his brothers and sisters were born and started to have children of their own, he abused his power to create his own descendants, creatures more powerful than Baltor and Vexys allowed. After a titanic struggle between the second-born and his family, he was locked away far beyond the reach of any creature. His identity was stripped and his name was taken away. Only one name was left for him: the Faceless God.
The next two children were twins: Neg’Crûn, the Father of Death, and Gor-Thar, the Father of Fear. Neg’Crûn became the advisor of his Parents, while Gor-Thar became their fearsome general.
Creating their children out of their own energy took a toll on Baltor and Vexys. If they wanted to expand their family any further, they needed someone whose whole being was based on the creation and development of life. And so the first daughter came to be: Metrona, the Mother of Creation.
Unwilling, but mostly unable, to shape the children of their children, the First Parents decided to create three more children to complete their pantheon. With already three main aspects of life in it - the beginning of it, the constant fear during it and the end of it - their next wish was to combine all of them with their next son. Mahaeleax, the Father of Magic, became the origin of all spellcasters that were to walk the land of Abaddon of in the future.
Their second-to-last child was Ur-Gha-Belesh, created when the Faceless God became to show signs of disobedience. They wanted a true Father of War. With Gor-Thar’s understanding of what their enemies dreaded, they needed someone who could be the brutal fighter, their warlord. Ur-Gha-Belesh became the most powerful Parent of all, at least physically, and he would be prayed to whenever blood what spilled in the name of the Abaddonian pantheon.
After the war with their second-born was over, Baltor and Vexys allowed the creation of other life than their own. Creatures, made in their own image, needed to walk the land of Abaddon. These devils and demons needed principals to life by, they needed a mother to learn them the correct way of living, living by their rules. They created the Mother of Sins, La’ava Sheran, to oversee all mortal life on Abaddon.
And so the first ten out of forty came to be and where these First Parents walked, many would follow.”
vrijdag 7 februari 2020
Chapter 5.6: The Sightless Citizens of Saal
After the waitress guided the sole demon customer out - both bumping into some chairs - everyone sits down at the biggest table, the one the minotaur was already sitting at. The patron sits at the head of the table. The weight of his arms makes the table creak with every movement.
“I don’t know what we did to deserve a punishment like this”, the hezrou says while he stares at his empty mug. “Maybe someone in Saal upset Achalion and this is his way of punishing us, but he never did something like this before. I talked to our priest, Karrion, about this curse. He prays for us every day, but apparently our Father can’t help us or doesn’t want to. The citizens are becoming desperate.”
Dargothoth doesn’t interrupt the demon, but he recognizes the feeling he describes. To be left by a god makes a man grow restless, doubting every little thing he does and obsessing over every sign that might be sent by his deity. Luckily, with Nerull out of the way, he now has a truly powerful god to follow and he hasn’t felt as good as this in a long time.
“I don’t remember exactly when the curse struck, but I remember who got struck first. Phenilias Arkhon, our village elder and mage, went blind first. When his first attempts to cure himself failed, he turned to our local priest for help. When the priest visited Phenilias, the mage told him he might have found a way to get rid of his affliction after all, but that he needed some time to prepare the ritual. He asked Karrion if the could borrow one of his disciples to help him get everything ready. When Karrion returned with one, Phenilias was nowhere to be found. We’ve looked all over for him, those few of us who can still see, but sadly I must say we all gave up after a while. Vaza jezeha.”
They nod in agreement: such a tragedy.
While their conversation with Barberon, the patron, continues, Dargothoth stares into nothingness as everything around him starts to sound foggy. With every spoken sentence he can hear fewer words until the only thing left is a silence. The air grows cold and an eerie feeling crawls down his spine. And then, as loud as raging thunder, a deafening voice booms within his head.
“Dargothoth.” The echoes create a piercing headache. “I have a task for you.”
The sivak recognizes his deity immediately. It’s been less than a day since he converted to the Faceless God and already he hears his divine voice again. He feels his power and focuses on him and only him.
“Tell me what you want”, he thinks to himself, assuming the god can hear his thoughts, “and I will do your bidding.”
(Deception 14 versus Insight 5)
“We should inspect the mage’s home and try to find out whatever ritual he was preparing. We know a few things about magic. Maybe we can perform the ritual and solve the entire problem. It’s worth a try.”
In silence and disbelief, the conversation falls quiet and his companions all look at Dargothoth.
“Well, if you think that could work, that would be great!” Barberon leans backwards in his chair and raises his arms in rejoice. “You should go to his home first thing in the morning. You can easily recognize it from afar. His home looks like a crooked tower. Phenilias’ name is written next to his door. Should be easy enough to find.”
“Hold on”, Lyssa says and she points at the cleric. “You normally never help, but now you seem hell-bent on finding the mage. Why is that?”
Suspicion. Always suspicion. Well, they would be fools to not doubt his intentions. Luckily for Dargothoth, most of the time he’s an excellent liar.
“Apart from me proving my crucial part to our little travelling company”, he says defiantly, “I do prefer to help the citizens of this plane to please my god. And maybe, if we are lucky and we succeed, there’s something in it for us that we can use. A small reward, a trinket... This time given more willingly than your special arrow, Bruq.”
The cleric makes a small gesture towards the satyr, who stares back at him with a pondering look on his face.
“I don’t know what kind of problems you’re having”, the patron says, “but I think you should start at Phenilias’ house. Or no, maybe it’s better to start with father Karrion to find out what the talked about with him. I’ll show you the way tomorrow.”
He stands up and collects the mugs near him.
“You can take any room on the upper floor, except the one directly across the stairs. The minotaur sleeps in that room. I’ll call you when breakfast is being served. Have a good night.”
The demon slouches towards the kitchen, his slow steps accompanied by the clinging of empty mugs.
Without saying too much, they decide to go upstairs and rest. It’s a rest long deserved.
“So that was our first day in Abaddon”, Mero says rather cheerful. “At the end of the day, it wasn’t too bad, right?”
He looks over his shoulder as he moves up the stairs. His glowing gaze meets Oslando’s eyes.
“I’m glad the day is over”, the half-elf says with a smile, “but you’re right. It wasn’t as awful as I feared. We have many days left in his plane. If most of them will be like today, I think we might just survive long enough to see the end of our quest and tell the tale.”
It sounds a bit unlike his stoic self, but Lyssa thinks this day might have changed him a bit. She knows how Oslando always talks about improving himself and wanting to do good, but she can’t help like feeling it’s all part of an act, even though he might not see it like that himself. Maybe she’ll talk to him about it another time. Now, she just wants to sleep.
“Care to hand over the book Daemion gave you?”
Dargothoth looks at the hunter.
“If you don’t mind, I would rather keep it for tonight”, Bruq answers. “I want to read about some stuff. I can give it to you tomorrow, if you’d like. Okay?”
The sivak murmurs something inaudible and disappears in the nearest unoccupied room.
“Suit yourself”, the satyrs says with a cocky grin across his face and he opens to the room next to the cleric. “Time to learn something about this world and my new god.”
“I don’t know what we did to deserve a punishment like this”, the hezrou says while he stares at his empty mug. “Maybe someone in Saal upset Achalion and this is his way of punishing us, but he never did something like this before. I talked to our priest, Karrion, about this curse. He prays for us every day, but apparently our Father can’t help us or doesn’t want to. The citizens are becoming desperate.”
Dargothoth doesn’t interrupt the demon, but he recognizes the feeling he describes. To be left by a god makes a man grow restless, doubting every little thing he does and obsessing over every sign that might be sent by his deity. Luckily, with Nerull out of the way, he now has a truly powerful god to follow and he hasn’t felt as good as this in a long time.
“I don’t remember exactly when the curse struck, but I remember who got struck first. Phenilias Arkhon, our village elder and mage, went blind first. When his first attempts to cure himself failed, he turned to our local priest for help. When the priest visited Phenilias, the mage told him he might have found a way to get rid of his affliction after all, but that he needed some time to prepare the ritual. He asked Karrion if the could borrow one of his disciples to help him get everything ready. When Karrion returned with one, Phenilias was nowhere to be found. We’ve looked all over for him, those few of us who can still see, but sadly I must say we all gave up after a while. Vaza jezeha.”
They nod in agreement: such a tragedy.
While their conversation with Barberon, the patron, continues, Dargothoth stares into nothingness as everything around him starts to sound foggy. With every spoken sentence he can hear fewer words until the only thing left is a silence. The air grows cold and an eerie feeling crawls down his spine. And then, as loud as raging thunder, a deafening voice booms within his head.
“Dargothoth.” The echoes create a piercing headache. “I have a task for you.”
The sivak recognizes his deity immediately. It’s been less than a day since he converted to the Faceless God and already he hears his divine voice again. He feels his power and focuses on him and only him.
“Tell me what you want”, he thinks to himself, assuming the god can hear his thoughts, “and I will do your bidding.”
(Deception 14 versus Insight 5)
“We should inspect the mage’s home and try to find out whatever ritual he was preparing. We know a few things about magic. Maybe we can perform the ritual and solve the entire problem. It’s worth a try.”
In silence and disbelief, the conversation falls quiet and his companions all look at Dargothoth.
“Well, if you think that could work, that would be great!” Barberon leans backwards in his chair and raises his arms in rejoice. “You should go to his home first thing in the morning. You can easily recognize it from afar. His home looks like a crooked tower. Phenilias’ name is written next to his door. Should be easy enough to find.”
“Hold on”, Lyssa says and she points at the cleric. “You normally never help, but now you seem hell-bent on finding the mage. Why is that?”
Suspicion. Always suspicion. Well, they would be fools to not doubt his intentions. Luckily for Dargothoth, most of the time he’s an excellent liar.
“Apart from me proving my crucial part to our little travelling company”, he says defiantly, “I do prefer to help the citizens of this plane to please my god. And maybe, if we are lucky and we succeed, there’s something in it for us that we can use. A small reward, a trinket... This time given more willingly than your special arrow, Bruq.”
The cleric makes a small gesture towards the satyr, who stares back at him with a pondering look on his face.
“I don’t know what kind of problems you’re having”, the patron says, “but I think you should start at Phenilias’ house. Or no, maybe it’s better to start with father Karrion to find out what the talked about with him. I’ll show you the way tomorrow.”
He stands up and collects the mugs near him.
“You can take any room on the upper floor, except the one directly across the stairs. The minotaur sleeps in that room. I’ll call you when breakfast is being served. Have a good night.”
The demon slouches towards the kitchen, his slow steps accompanied by the clinging of empty mugs.
Without saying too much, they decide to go upstairs and rest. It’s a rest long deserved.
“So that was our first day in Abaddon”, Mero says rather cheerful. “At the end of the day, it wasn’t too bad, right?”
He looks over his shoulder as he moves up the stairs. His glowing gaze meets Oslando’s eyes.
“I’m glad the day is over”, the half-elf says with a smile, “but you’re right. It wasn’t as awful as I feared. We have many days left in his plane. If most of them will be like today, I think we might just survive long enough to see the end of our quest and tell the tale.”
It sounds a bit unlike his stoic self, but Lyssa thinks this day might have changed him a bit. She knows how Oslando always talks about improving himself and wanting to do good, but she can’t help like feeling it’s all part of an act, even though he might not see it like that himself. Maybe she’ll talk to him about it another time. Now, she just wants to sleep.
“Care to hand over the book Daemion gave you?”
Dargothoth looks at the hunter.
“If you don’t mind, I would rather keep it for tonight”, Bruq answers. “I want to read about some stuff. I can give it to you tomorrow, if you’d like. Okay?”
The sivak murmurs something inaudible and disappears in the nearest unoccupied room.
“Suit yourself”, the satyrs says with a cocky grin across his face and he opens to the room next to the cleric. “Time to learn something about this world and my new god.”
Abonneren op:
Posts (Atom)