Tsaimath
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Holiday Special
🕑 Added 2019-12-25 17:00:04 +0000 UTC
Come on, Children, gather around the hearth and sit down. Sit down and listen.
Now, that the nights are long and dark, let me tell you of times long past. History has many lessons for us and if we don’t learn from it, it might just repeat itself. Tonight, I will tell you the story of the Severing, a tale of the horror’s brought about by lust for power and fanatical devotion to a cause. Some say, every being is willing to become a monster for the right cause and whether you are good or bad just depends on the cause. But I digress.
Our tale starts long, long ago, when the world looked very different, when the Gods themselves could walk on Mundus as they pleased. It was a time of wonder, a time of plenty, but even back then, it was not a paradise. You see, even today, the murderous minions of Zeus try to force their dominion over the world, deceiving some by claiming they gave them the Gift of Fire and others by calling them their most favoured Messengers.
Back then, we Elves were numerous, linked to the World-Tree itself, the great Yggdrasil, sharing it its immortality, just as we now share with the great forests of Arbotoma and the Eldrabor. So much was lost.
But I was telling you about the time of wonder, when the Gods of Asgard walked with the elves and the Valkyries ruled the skies along them, carrying messages along the branches of the World-Tree and to us, living in the vast forests below. It was a good time, because even as the Gods were in conflict with the minions of Zeus and his cursed daimons, the Gods themself knew that, if they were to take the field of battle Mundus itself would shatter in the wake of their conflict. Instead, they guided us mortals, teaching us in their temples and in turn we worshipped them. That is why you should listen to your teachers, children, they took over the task the Gods no longer could do.
Sadly, not everyone was willing to be guided by the gentle Gods of Asgard, the fierce Aesir and the gentle Vanir, they shunned them, instead following the Minions of Zeus and their daimons. And from those poor, misguided souls, disaster arose when one day a young Sorcerer decided to dedicate his life to Ares. His name is erased from history, the only name we remember him by is the Sunderer, the terrible mad-man who burned down the world-tree, severed Mundus from the gods and broke the world, boiling oceans, breaking continents and burning the sky.
We know little of his origin, he was born Human, in the Empire of Emor, the ancient Roadbuilders. While they were enlightened in many ways, they were a proud and numerous people, spreading all over the world, building their Roads even in other Kingdoms to facilitate trade. They were closely allied with the Nagas and together, they connected all civilised beings. But, while they were peaceful and enlightened in some ways, they refused to see truth, clinging to the Minions of Zeus. Even to this day, after all the horrible things their Gods have caused, they worship at the Tower of Flames, in the middle of their Capitol, remembering the glory of their ancient Empire.
And in that Empire, the Sunderer was born, the son of a noble family and a talented Sorcerer. The stories tell of his great command over Fire but also of the lust of power that burned in his soul. Some stories tell that he was a true Genius, able to feel the Astral and directly extract runes from it, long before the Gods ever gave him his class, a born Sorcerer and once the Gods bestowed his Class upon him, he yearned to make his Legacy, to become one of the great Sorcerers of History, his Classes and Traditions shaping the System itself.
And so, after he learned what the Temples could teach him, he went to learn from the Gods themself. His interest, magical aptitude and character, they all drove him to seek out one of the worst amongst the Minions of Zeus, the great Hound of War, Ares. The stories tell of flames burning out of control on the day he entered the Temple of the Hound of War, as if the fires knew that they would be stoked until the world would be covered.
At the Temple of Ares, he learned and studied, becoming more and more fanatical in his belief in his God, believing himself to be the Chosen of Ares, destined to strike at the Gods of Asgard. Maybe he was, maybe he was just deluded, it hardly matters.
Ironically, the first step on his path of Conquest were his own people who he brought under his reign by overthrowing their old rulers and making himself Emperor. And his thirst for power didn’t stop there, no, it was just the beginning. He wasn’t stupid and knew that the roads that previously allowed wares to be traded all over Mundus would allow his troops to travel vast distances in short times, making his already strong armies a force that might just conquer the world, especially as the Nagas supported the young Emperor.
His own people, you ask? They were hardly given a choice, either the Sword or the Flame, if they chose the Sword, they were pressed into his armies, made to march to war, if they chose the Flame, they were burned alive, alongside their families. Not a choice I wish upon anyone.
He managed to conquer cast parts of the world, killing countless beings in the process, but when he started to march on the rainbow bridge, planning to besiege Asgard itself, the Gods finally decided to intervene and to take the field themselves. Little is known about the event that happened next, the Gods themself almost silent, only speaking with regret about the massacre they had to commit to stop the Sunderer. But while his armies were shattered by divine might, his people scattered, the Sunderer himself managed to get away. Some say it was Ares himself that spirited him from the field of battle, daring the Gods of Asgard to attack him and start the final battle that would destroy the world.
But even though the Sunderer was saved from death at the hands of the Gods of Asgard, he hadn’t learned his lesson, no, he only became more fanatical, now that he had lost his Empire, this throne and his people. And so, he started to seek ways to make them pay, looking for a way to slay a god. We don’t know where he travelled, whom he met, but there are tales of a dark wanderer, his form black, his eyes burning like glowing embers, that remain to this day, all over Mundus. Some claim he went into the north, where he found Trees of Crystal around a pond of liquid ice, others say he went into the south, where he found a black lake of burning wind and a few people even claim that he ventured into the Wyld Lands, learning from the Fae. But that might just be superstitious nonsense, nobody ever went into the Wyld Lands and returned.
Whatever he did in that time, he managed to find what he was searching, a way to make the Gods pay.
Somehow, he found a Place of Power where the Astral River was so dense that it manifested itself in the real world, a place thick with the stream of Fire. And into that Fire he went, trusting on his ability to change the world with his will, to strike against the Gods and defeat them.
The result was horrible, our stories speak of the pained groans of Mundus itself as her bones were ground against each other, making the the earth shake in pain. They speak of the sky burning before turning dark with Ash, as the Sunderer managed to set the world-tree itself on fire, making it burn for forty days and forty nights.
And on the final day, the world-tree itself fell and with it, the connection to the Gods of Asgard was severed. But the madman had made a mistake or maybe he just didn’t care, as the connection to the Gods of Asgard was broken, his own Gods, the Minions of Zeus, were banished just like them, driven from this world. And in the Severing of those connections, the areas around Asgard and Olympus were devastated by the unleashed power.
After the Severing, the world had changed, the Astral River itself was roiling and all beings were driven from their homes. The Valkyries gathered in the highest mountains, making their homes as close to the sky as they could. The humans, they abandoned most of their former empire, settling in a small area around their Capital, well, small compared to their old Empire. The daimons, they claimed one of the newly formed continents, broken from the rest of the world in the Severing.
And finally, we elves, we took a seed of Yggdrasil and planted it in the southern forests, a diminished people after the great northern Forests and Yggdrasil itself were destroyed.
But, thanks to the seed that grew into Eldrabor, we managed to overcome the Severing and made our home here.
Now, say your prayers and go to sleep, it will be a long day tomorrow.
AN: Happy Holidays, everyone, and thank you for supporting me.
