The Lore of Mythos
There was once a time when there was nothing—a vast, vacant, empty nothing without a single thing in it. That is except for one single being.
Ursus.
Surrounded by untamed starlight and extensive darkness, Ursus was adrift with no purpose. So a purpose he decided to make for himself; he decided to make time, energy, matter. From his will atoms and molecules coalesced and began to form raging rivers, grass that his feet could stand on, and mountains that reached out toward the stars.
From his will came her: the Allmother.
Everything he was not, she was his perfect counterpart. The missing half that he had been yearning for in the vast open space that is now Mythos. She nurtured the land where he created and destroyed it, following her will and changing even the smallest of things until it was perfect. Wherever she wished for a river to flow he would make it so, and however many mountains she wished to see he would build.
Once everything was complete the Allmother then took the very stars that had come from Ursus’ own will and gave him something he had never dreamt of before. Eight children. Each perfect and unique, Ursus loved them almost as much as he did the Allmother. They were a new beginning, filled with so many ideas and thoughts that he would stop at nothing to see come true. He wanted to give them everything.
And that is where Ursus went wrong.
Ursus.
Surrounded by untamed starlight and extensive darkness, Ursus was adrift with no purpose. So a purpose he decided to make for himself; he decided to make time, energy, matter. From his will atoms and molecules coalesced and began to form raging rivers, grass that his feet could stand on, and mountains that reached out toward the stars.
From his will came her: the Allmother.
Everything he was not, she was his perfect counterpart. The missing half that he had been yearning for in the vast open space that is now Mythos. She nurtured the land where he created and destroyed it, following her will and changing even the smallest of things until it was perfect. Wherever she wished for a river to flow he would make it so, and however many mountains she wished to see he would build.
Once everything was complete the Allmother then took the very stars that had come from Ursus’ own will and gave him something he had never dreamt of before. Eight children. Each perfect and unique, Ursus loved them almost as much as he did the Allmother. They were a new beginning, filled with so many ideas and thoughts that he would stop at nothing to see come true. He wanted to give them everything.
And that is where Ursus went wrong.
Love, when it becomes too strong, can slowly change. This change is never good, for it takes something once perfect and pure and corrupts it until the love that was once there is no longer recognizable.
That is what happened to Ursus.
Controlling them under the guise of wanting to protect them, Ursus had grown greedy in his desire to give everything to the Allmother and his children. Nothing was good enough for him anymore. There had to be more—more, more, more.
Like a festering wound, he tried to change and achieve all for them until the Allmother could no longer take it. The Mythos they had created together had slowly become something else—an extension of Ursus that mirrored his greed and growing selfishness.
The Allmother wanted none of it, and she told Ursus as much. Wanting him to know that the love and care he showed Mythos and their children before was all they needed. Ursus, however, was not so easily convinced. He took the concern that the Allmother showed as a sign of disrespect; he took it as a sign that she did not support him. Which was something he could not believe.
After all, he had given them everything. Done everything for them. How dare she.
Indignant, Ursus did the unforgivable.
Mythos rumbled and shook, and the land's once perfect edges began to fall away as gaping chasms ripped open the earth. Tearing mountains apart and cleaving fields into two. Soon the once perfectly crafted Mythos slowly became something else. Something far more unrecognizable.
Had Ursus’ seen how the Allmother had openly wept as the land she loved changed beyond recognition perhaps he would have stopped. Or, perhaps not.
What was done was done though, and the pain that the Allmother felt was so great that she could not bear it. So, without a single goodbye to her beloved children or to her once beloved Mythos, she disappeared.
And the world grew that much darker in her absence.
That is what happened to Ursus.
Controlling them under the guise of wanting to protect them, Ursus had grown greedy in his desire to give everything to the Allmother and his children. Nothing was good enough for him anymore. There had to be more—more, more, more.
Like a festering wound, he tried to change and achieve all for them until the Allmother could no longer take it. The Mythos they had created together had slowly become something else—an extension of Ursus that mirrored his greed and growing selfishness.
The Allmother wanted none of it, and she told Ursus as much. Wanting him to know that the love and care he showed Mythos and their children before was all they needed. Ursus, however, was not so easily convinced. He took the concern that the Allmother showed as a sign of disrespect; he took it as a sign that she did not support him. Which was something he could not believe.
After all, he had given them everything. Done everything for them. How dare she.
Indignant, Ursus did the unforgivable.
Mythos rumbled and shook, and the land's once perfect edges began to fall away as gaping chasms ripped open the earth. Tearing mountains apart and cleaving fields into two. Soon the once perfectly crafted Mythos slowly became something else. Something far more unrecognizable.
Had Ursus’ seen how the Allmother had openly wept as the land she loved changed beyond recognition perhaps he would have stopped. Or, perhaps not.
What was done was done though, and the pain that the Allmother felt was so great that she could not bear it. So, without a single goodbye to her beloved children or to her once beloved Mythos, she disappeared.
And the world grew that much darker in her absence.
He was the reason she had run; the reason she could not bear to stay. Ursus would not let the Allmother get away so easily though.
She belonged there, in Mythos, with him. She was not needed anywhere else. He would bring her back.
He simply had to find her.
A task harder to accomplish than expected since none of their children knew where she had gone. A fact that Ursus only realized to be true after he had threatened their children to no end in an attempt to make them tell him where their mother was.
They truly did not know though, and so it was up to Ursus to find another way.
So Ursus created something that embodied both creation and destruction. He created a creature that he knew would be able to find that which he had lost.
Greater Celestials, made of stardust and dark matter, were the solution to Ursus’ self-made problem. With them at his disposal he would find the Allmother in no time. She would be brought back and then all within Mythos would be at peace again.
How the Celestials brought the Allmother back Ursus did not care, he only cared that they returned her to him as quickly as possible. A condition that Ursus’ Celestials took as the all-clear to do whatever they needed to to get the Allmother back.
Even if it meant destroying Mythos further in the process.
She belonged there, in Mythos, with him. She was not needed anywhere else. He would bring her back.
He simply had to find her.
A task harder to accomplish than expected since none of their children knew where she had gone. A fact that Ursus only realized to be true after he had threatened their children to no end in an attempt to make them tell him where their mother was.
They truly did not know though, and so it was up to Ursus to find another way.
So Ursus created something that embodied both creation and destruction. He created a creature that he knew would be able to find that which he had lost.
Greater Celestials, made of stardust and dark matter, were the solution to Ursus’ self-made problem. With them at his disposal he would find the Allmother in no time. She would be brought back and then all within Mythos would be at peace again.
How the Celestials brought the Allmother back Ursus did not care, he only cared that they returned her to him as quickly as possible. A condition that Ursus’ Celestials took as the all-clear to do whatever they needed to to get the Allmother back.
Even if it meant destroying Mythos further in the process.
In their search for the Allmother the Celestials had quickly absorbed the very life from the land. Molten rock, dead trees, barren soil—Mythos was dead. The home of Ursus’ and the Allmother’s eight children was dead.
It hurt the eight children to see their home in such a state. Something had to be done, but what that something was only a few of them dared to think, while none of them dared to say it out loud. Not until one of them was attacked, that is.
Unprovoked, the Celestials fell upon the child named Simia one day, and it is only through the help of her brothers Barbus and Celaeno that she lived to see the next. As a result of this attack Simia finally realized that she, like her mother, could no longer stand for any of this. So, with her sharp tongue and steeled resolve, she had approached their father in hopes of achieving something.
With no plan in mind though Simia failed to accomplish anything. Besides, their father was beyond reason. Crazed and determined to see the Allmother back, he cared naught that his Celestials had attacked one of his own children. So Simia returned to her siblings with the intent to persuade them that they had to do something.
And persuade them she did.
In no time a plan was crafted and each child knew that they would stop at nothing to see their once beautiful Mythos restored to its former glory. Not only because they wished to see it that way, but because they knew their mother would have liked nothing more than to see the Mythos of old back again.
Which, they soon believed, just might be the way to bring her back.
It hurt the eight children to see their home in such a state. Something had to be done, but what that something was only a few of them dared to think, while none of them dared to say it out loud. Not until one of them was attacked, that is.
Unprovoked, the Celestials fell upon the child named Simia one day, and it is only through the help of her brothers Barbus and Celaeno that she lived to see the next. As a result of this attack Simia finally realized that she, like her mother, could no longer stand for any of this. So, with her sharp tongue and steeled resolve, she had approached their father in hopes of achieving something.
With no plan in mind though Simia failed to accomplish anything. Besides, their father was beyond reason. Crazed and determined to see the Allmother back, he cared naught that his Celestials had attacked one of his own children. So Simia returned to her siblings with the intent to persuade them that they had to do something.
And persuade them she did.
In no time a plan was crafted and each child knew that they would stop at nothing to see their once beautiful Mythos restored to its former glory. Not only because they wished to see it that way, but because they knew their mother would have liked nothing more than to see the Mythos of old back again.
Which, they soon believed, just might be the way to bring her back.
Nothing was easy about destroying the very thing that had created you. Being the most powerful being, Ursus’ children knew that not even all eight of them would be able to completely overpower him.
Instead, they would have to trick him.
Something that they truly believed would be easy to do. If only because Ursus had long grown hysterical in his search for the Allmother. He was beyond desperate, and the mere mention of knowing where she was would be more than enough to convince Ursus to go somewhere—the smallest hint from one of his Celestials about the Allmother’s location had been enough to draw him away before.
Before they could think of drawing their father away to his demise though, the children first needed to prepare the place they planned to bring him. One out of many, a volcano to the west was the location they had chosen, and all the children slowly began to imbue the land around the volcano with life. Making barren land green once more and forcing trees to bloom.
Almost as if the one that had once nurtured the land was there, hiding.
Quickly then, before all died once more, the child named Proteus ran to his father, yelling about how it was a miracle. About how there was green where once there was death.
Crazed and frantic, Ursus took off to the volcano with haste, Proteus right on his heels. Once Ursus laid eyes on the land around the active volcano he had hysterically cackled, believing he had finally found the Allmother despite her attempts to remain hidden forever. So he quickly climbed to the volcano’s summit, peering down into its throat without care.
And that is when Barbus appeared. Sword in hand, Barbus did not hesitate to strike, sweeping the blade of his sword against Ursus’ legs and causing the god to plummet into the molten lava below.
Instead, they would have to trick him.
Something that they truly believed would be easy to do. If only because Ursus had long grown hysterical in his search for the Allmother. He was beyond desperate, and the mere mention of knowing where she was would be more than enough to convince Ursus to go somewhere—the smallest hint from one of his Celestials about the Allmother’s location had been enough to draw him away before.
Before they could think of drawing their father away to his demise though, the children first needed to prepare the place they planned to bring him. One out of many, a volcano to the west was the location they had chosen, and all the children slowly began to imbue the land around the volcano with life. Making barren land green once more and forcing trees to bloom.
Almost as if the one that had once nurtured the land was there, hiding.
Quickly then, before all died once more, the child named Proteus ran to his father, yelling about how it was a miracle. About how there was green where once there was death.
Crazed and frantic, Ursus took off to the volcano with haste, Proteus right on his heels. Once Ursus laid eyes on the land around the active volcano he had hysterically cackled, believing he had finally found the Allmother despite her attempts to remain hidden forever. So he quickly climbed to the volcano’s summit, peering down into its throat without care.
And that is when Barbus appeared. Sword in hand, Barbus did not hesitate to strike, sweeping the blade of his sword against Ursus’ legs and causing the god to plummet into the molten lava below.
With Ursus gone his children, while not expecting it, had hoped that things would immediately become better. That, however, was not the case.
The Celestials were still prevalent in Mythos, and so the children took it upon themselves to eradicate each and every one of them until there was nothing left of Ursus’ creations. Mythos would not be safe until they were gone, and it is only once all the Celestials were vanquished that the Eight began to restore what Ursus had destroyed.
Inch by painstaking inch the children swept across the land of Mythos and healed gaping chasms that split lands into two. They brought life back into the ground and watched as grass and flowers grew where nothing once would. The children did this until everything was as it once was when their mother was there.
Almost everything, anyway. For no matter how hard they tried they could never get anything to grow around the volcano Ursus had fallen into.
The reason as to why escaped them, but the child named Sorex took this as a sign never to forget what had happened. It was a physical reminder that would never disappear just as the volcano Ursus had fallen into would never grow dormant.
Still, it was concerning, and out of caution Celaeno urged their brother Barbus to cleave rocks into two and to build a barrier of mountains around the still barren volcano that would never be moved. Barbus did this all without complaint, and it was only after this was done that all eight children finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Then they waited for their mother to return.
And waited.
And waited some more, until so much time had passed that new life had found a home on Mythos and the land forgot what it once looked like after the Allmother left. The Allmother’s children did not understand why their mother had yet to appear, but as life continued to change and grow while they remained stagnant they soon realized they could not stay.
They needed to wait elsewhere.
So to the skies they turned with Terra, Barbus, and Proteus each throwing up an item of their choosing to map the sky in the East, South, and West that might help their mother find them. While the others worked together to make a single flame that lit up the Northern sky to let the Allmother know they were still there and hadn’t left.
Crystals were erected in the four major regions of Mythos and, imbued with the power of the Eight, were named Guardians. It was these Guardian Crystals that would one day gift their power back to those worthy of protecting Mythos, if not the Eight themselves.
Then the Eight all joined their creations up above, watching and waiting for the day their mother might return.
A day that might be closer now than ever.
An old and broken continent, drained of its magic, Edana was risen from the sea by the Allmother. In her efforts to save the magic-drained continent, she unknowingly exposed the realm of Mythos to the Magic Eater, Laela. This event culminated with The Summoning, wherein the Allmother broke free of Laela's control and saved her people from the Shadow Princess.
Freeing Edana from the wrath of the Magic Eater, it is free to be explored and cleansed of its brokenness by denizens of Mythos. Edana is reachable only by boat, Guardian portal, or a long and arduous flight.
A Tale of Two Sisters
The Parable of Anwara
The Great War
The Rise of the Lightbringers
The Celestials were still prevalent in Mythos, and so the children took it upon themselves to eradicate each and every one of them until there was nothing left of Ursus’ creations. Mythos would not be safe until they were gone, and it is only once all the Celestials were vanquished that the Eight began to restore what Ursus had destroyed.
Inch by painstaking inch the children swept across the land of Mythos and healed gaping chasms that split lands into two. They brought life back into the ground and watched as grass and flowers grew where nothing once would. The children did this until everything was as it once was when their mother was there.
Almost everything, anyway. For no matter how hard they tried they could never get anything to grow around the volcano Ursus had fallen into.
The reason as to why escaped them, but the child named Sorex took this as a sign never to forget what had happened. It was a physical reminder that would never disappear just as the volcano Ursus had fallen into would never grow dormant.
Still, it was concerning, and out of caution Celaeno urged their brother Barbus to cleave rocks into two and to build a barrier of mountains around the still barren volcano that would never be moved. Barbus did this all without complaint, and it was only after this was done that all eight children finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Then they waited for their mother to return.
And waited.
And waited some more, until so much time had passed that new life had found a home on Mythos and the land forgot what it once looked like after the Allmother left. The Allmother’s children did not understand why their mother had yet to appear, but as life continued to change and grow while they remained stagnant they soon realized they could not stay.
They needed to wait elsewhere.
So to the skies they turned with Terra, Barbus, and Proteus each throwing up an item of their choosing to map the sky in the East, South, and West that might help their mother find them. While the others worked together to make a single flame that lit up the Northern sky to let the Allmother know they were still there and hadn’t left.
Crystals were erected in the four major regions of Mythos and, imbued with the power of the Eight, were named Guardians. It was these Guardian Crystals that would one day gift their power back to those worthy of protecting Mythos, if not the Eight themselves.
Then the Eight all joined their creations up above, watching and waiting for the day their mother might return.
A day that might be closer now than ever.
The Lore of Edana
An old and broken continent, drained of its magic, Edana was risen from the sea by the Allmother. In her efforts to save the magic-drained continent, she unknowingly exposed the realm of Mythos to the Magic Eater, Laela. This event culminated with The Summoning, wherein the Allmother broke free of Laela's control and saved her people from the Shadow Princess.
Freeing Edana from the wrath of the Magic Eater, it is free to be explored and cleansed of its brokenness by denizens of Mythos. Edana is reachable only by boat, Guardian portal, or a long and arduous flight.
The History of Edana
During Edana's greatest age, there lived two sisters. The princesses of a magnanimous king and the embodiments of elegance and power, the girls were known as Anwara and Laela. Born from a line of potent magikal capacity, the girls inspired insurmountable loyalty in their subjects. And, as they grew into young women, their magik prospered alongside their beauty. Anwara was eloquent and soft, a generous gift to the people who often frequented their ranks. Laela, the youngest of the two, heeded her sister's every step. Not so unlike the citizens of Edana, Laela idolized Anwara, and the two shared a bond so deeply profound that no sibling rivalry could pierce it.
But perfection was not to last.
Like so many things, the royal family's happiness burnt into dying embers. As the King retired his throne in favor of his eldest daughter, shadow began to wind its way to the capitol walls. A manifestation of decay and rot, the dark magik that haunted Edanian fables showed its face to the youngest of the princesses on the night before her sister's coronation.
Laela, who had perhaps never burned quite so brightly as Anwara, felt her heart quiver. Her soul shuddered in the presence of evil, and the hellish bindings of black magik pulled a noose around her throat, choking the kindness from her being. Within the golden hallways of the castle, one of Edana's two starlit princesses fell into shadow.
With malevolence coursing through her once kindly veins, Laela succumbed to the whims of the entity. Over the days to follow, she bent beneath its whispered insecurities and violent intentions, and she snapped hatefully at anyone who dared to inquire after her. She was reclusive and cold, and many chalked her behavior up to no more than the abrupt insolence of a jealous sister, envious of Anwara's throne. Before long, Laela and the shadow were one. She was no longer puppeteered, but rather commanded by a will more forceful than she'd ever had the capacity to be. She was no long a dutiful daughter, nor a beautiful princess - she was darkness come to life, eager to shatter the flame of her sister and Queen.
Three weeks after her sister’s coronation, the Shadow Princess heeded the call for blood. On the turn of a dime, Laela began with the slaughter of their father, painting the walls of his chambers with red before she disappeared in a cloud of smoke, retiring to the outskirts of the northern mountain range and abandoning her sister and their nation to sorrow.
In the months to follow, Anwara and her people failed to conclude the origins of Laela's turncoat behavior. Indeed, Laela's sudden change in disposition was thought to be fueled by hateful envy, and as they mourned the late King, they damned the princess. Through their loathing, few thought to deduce the reasoning behind the many disappearances that took place on the outskirts of small villages. For weeks, the young and the weak disappeared from their beds, leaving frantic families to bemoan their loved one's absences.
Chaos ensued, accompanied by tragically incensed citizens, demanding their queen do something to return their lost kin. Anwara turned desperately to her advisors, finding comfort in her Commander, Einar, and the men and women that'd served her father. In her adamance to protect her people, the Queen sent a group of her most trusted warriors and spies on a mission to follow their scarce and few leads. The grisly path left by Laela's antics painted a trail of blood into the northern mountain pass, and Anwara's loyal soldiers paused in horror as they beheld the dark skies and the desolate wasteland that awaited them on the other side of the mountain.
Unsure of just what sort of evil they'd witnessed, the group of soldiers returned to the castle to report their findings - but Laela arrived sooner, accompanied by an entourage of undead monsters, feeding upon the fear of townsfolk. As a message to her sister, Laela decimated the smaller villages in a rapid blow, reminding the Queen of Fire that she couldn't protect her people, let alone herself.
Shattered by the loss of innocent lives, Anwara turned to the magik she'd know all of her life. She had no way to spread it evenly throughout the realm, nor did she have the means through which to shield every village and every traveler from her sister's blight. And so she turned to volunteers, calling upon her citizens to come to her - to forsake their mortality for the good of their nation.
Seven answered. Aala and Aldis, a childless couple from the north who'd watched their neighbors be slaughtered. Kalen and Saffi, two sisters who'd lived a life as lawless rogues. Sohnian, an artist who found no beauty in a world of blood. Nerissa, a merwoman who feared the red waters and the taste of death in the air.
And Einar; the warrior who loved the queen.
To defeat her sister, Anwara spread an equal amount of her magik to each Firebringer, imbuing them with the powers of eternity, filling their veins with fragments of Edana's insurmountable magik. And though the Queen was grievously weakened by the loss of her magik, she smiled and wished her Court well - and, together, they plotted Laela's demise.
Each Firebringer made for the their designated posts. Aala and Aldis were to lead an army in the North, while Kalen and Saffi would roam the midlands with a brigade of thieves and spies, searching for the dead and the captured. Sohnian and Nerissa collaborated to scour the coastlines for signs of the blight's spread, while Einar would be the one to lead Anwara's troops into the Outlands.
Together, Anwara's Firebringers burned away the disease that had riddled their darling nation. And though there was no saving the lost, nor would there be any way to purge the evil from Laela's veins, they drove the undead shadow back into the Outlands. Through months of toil and weeks of seemingly endless battle, through bloodshed and loss, Edana and the Firebringers fought for the living. They fought for their lives.
Beaten into submission, Laela fled, abandoning her dastardly creations to their ravenous, mindless whims, leaving the people she’d once loved to recover from the carnage. Abandoning the Outlands, unable to recover from the deep scars of her blood magik, to its fruitless eternity. Some say the Princess of Shadow dissipated into a cloud of smoke, while others pray she was killed on the battlefield.
And though Edana was saved and peace was gradually restored, happiness was not to last. Anwara, weakened by the loss of her magik and broken by her sister's treacherous deeds, succumbed to the welcome embrace of death. Unable to recover from her broken heart, it is alleged that the Queen died in the company of her beloved Firebringers, wrapped in the safety of Einar's embrace.
Statues were erected in the Queen's honor, and before long, she was revered as a Goddess of Edana: the martyred queen who gave her heart to her nation.
But perfection was not to last.
Like so many things, the royal family's happiness burnt into dying embers. As the King retired his throne in favor of his eldest daughter, shadow began to wind its way to the capitol walls. A manifestation of decay and rot, the dark magik that haunted Edanian fables showed its face to the youngest of the princesses on the night before her sister's coronation.
Laela, who had perhaps never burned quite so brightly as Anwara, felt her heart quiver. Her soul shuddered in the presence of evil, and the hellish bindings of black magik pulled a noose around her throat, choking the kindness from her being. Within the golden hallways of the castle, one of Edana's two starlit princesses fell into shadow.
With malevolence coursing through her once kindly veins, Laela succumbed to the whims of the entity. Over the days to follow, she bent beneath its whispered insecurities and violent intentions, and she snapped hatefully at anyone who dared to inquire after her. She was reclusive and cold, and many chalked her behavior up to no more than the abrupt insolence of a jealous sister, envious of Anwara's throne. Before long, Laela and the shadow were one. She was no longer puppeteered, but rather commanded by a will more forceful than she'd ever had the capacity to be. She was no long a dutiful daughter, nor a beautiful princess - she was darkness come to life, eager to shatter the flame of her sister and Queen.
Three weeks after her sister’s coronation, the Shadow Princess heeded the call for blood. On the turn of a dime, Laela began with the slaughter of their father, painting the walls of his chambers with red before she disappeared in a cloud of smoke, retiring to the outskirts of the northern mountain range and abandoning her sister and their nation to sorrow.
In the months to follow, Anwara and her people failed to conclude the origins of Laela's turncoat behavior. Indeed, Laela's sudden change in disposition was thought to be fueled by hateful envy, and as they mourned the late King, they damned the princess. Through their loathing, few thought to deduce the reasoning behind the many disappearances that took place on the outskirts of small villages. For weeks, the young and the weak disappeared from their beds, leaving frantic families to bemoan their loved one's absences.
Chaos ensued, accompanied by tragically incensed citizens, demanding their queen do something to return their lost kin. Anwara turned desperately to her advisors, finding comfort in her Commander, Einar, and the men and women that'd served her father. In her adamance to protect her people, the Queen sent a group of her most trusted warriors and spies on a mission to follow their scarce and few leads. The grisly path left by Laela's antics painted a trail of blood into the northern mountain pass, and Anwara's loyal soldiers paused in horror as they beheld the dark skies and the desolate wasteland that awaited them on the other side of the mountain.
Unsure of just what sort of evil they'd witnessed, the group of soldiers returned to the castle to report their findings - but Laela arrived sooner, accompanied by an entourage of undead monsters, feeding upon the fear of townsfolk. As a message to her sister, Laela decimated the smaller villages in a rapid blow, reminding the Queen of Fire that she couldn't protect her people, let alone herself.
Shattered by the loss of innocent lives, Anwara turned to the magik she'd know all of her life. She had no way to spread it evenly throughout the realm, nor did she have the means through which to shield every village and every traveler from her sister's blight. And so she turned to volunteers, calling upon her citizens to come to her - to forsake their mortality for the good of their nation.
Seven answered. Aala and Aldis, a childless couple from the north who'd watched their neighbors be slaughtered. Kalen and Saffi, two sisters who'd lived a life as lawless rogues. Sohnian, an artist who found no beauty in a world of blood. Nerissa, a merwoman who feared the red waters and the taste of death in the air.
And Einar; the warrior who loved the queen.
To defeat her sister, Anwara spread an equal amount of her magik to each Firebringer, imbuing them with the powers of eternity, filling their veins with fragments of Edana's insurmountable magik. And though the Queen was grievously weakened by the loss of her magik, she smiled and wished her Court well - and, together, they plotted Laela's demise.
Each Firebringer made for the their designated posts. Aala and Aldis were to lead an army in the North, while Kalen and Saffi would roam the midlands with a brigade of thieves and spies, searching for the dead and the captured. Sohnian and Nerissa collaborated to scour the coastlines for signs of the blight's spread, while Einar would be the one to lead Anwara's troops into the Outlands.
Together, Anwara's Firebringers burned away the disease that had riddled their darling nation. And though there was no saving the lost, nor would there be any way to purge the evil from Laela's veins, they drove the undead shadow back into the Outlands. Through months of toil and weeks of seemingly endless battle, through bloodshed and loss, Edana and the Firebringers fought for the living. They fought for their lives.
Beaten into submission, Laela fled, abandoning her dastardly creations to their ravenous, mindless whims, leaving the people she’d once loved to recover from the carnage. Abandoning the Outlands, unable to recover from the deep scars of her blood magik, to its fruitless eternity. Some say the Princess of Shadow dissipated into a cloud of smoke, while others pray she was killed on the battlefield.
And though Edana was saved and peace was gradually restored, happiness was not to last. Anwara, weakened by the loss of her magik and broken by her sister's treacherous deeds, succumbed to the welcome embrace of death. Unable to recover from her broken heart, it is alleged that the Queen died in the company of her beloved Firebringers, wrapped in the safety of Einar's embrace.
Statues were erected in the Queen's honor, and before long, she was revered as a Goddess of Edana: the martyred queen who gave her heart to her nation.
The mother of all: the Queen of Firebringers. Anwara is the warrior goddess of Edana and the shield from all doom. The goddess once reigned as a mortal Queen, a benevolent lady who guarded her people and her home from the insidious Shadow of her sister, Laela. She was the slayer of the dark and the guiding light to Edanian citizens. Her name was spoken in reverence, and for a time, the kingdom was content.
But Laela’s powers rippled on the outskirts of Edana, pulsating and alive, and her serpentine tendrils invaded the continent with such malevolent strength that even the light of Anwara could not hold her sister back. Dark creatures sprouted from this blight, beings of living decay that thrived on fear. The outermost cities fell first, and Anwara was horrified by the slaughter of her people.
To battle the forces that lingered outside of Edana’s borders, the Warrior Queen recruited her beloved Firebringers: a court of volunteers who sold their mortality to their homeland. Seven were chosen, and Anwara sacrificed her magik to share her powers among those seven. And so they were graced with immortality, fire cleansing their slates, and endowed with a power so immense that they were able to guard Edana from shadow...
But Anwara? Her once immense powers were diluted to a mere ember, and though her spirit walked a teetering tightrope between life and death, she held fast through the Battle for Edana.
In the wake of chaos, however, Anwara fell; brittle and grey without her magik, spent from years of sealing Edana from her sister. Her beloved Court of Firebringers went on in her absence, and the nation never forgot their lost Queen.
In the aftermath of Edana’s unlikely success, the people praised Anwara’s name, and it was not long before temples were erected in her honor. Years went by, and the Warrior Queen and her Court became a fable, a legend. Before long, she was revered as a Goddess: the Sun within the sky, keeping the night at bay.
But Laela’s powers rippled on the outskirts of Edana, pulsating and alive, and her serpentine tendrils invaded the continent with such malevolent strength that even the light of Anwara could not hold her sister back. Dark creatures sprouted from this blight, beings of living decay that thrived on fear. The outermost cities fell first, and Anwara was horrified by the slaughter of her people.
To battle the forces that lingered outside of Edana’s borders, the Warrior Queen recruited her beloved Firebringers: a court of volunteers who sold their mortality to their homeland. Seven were chosen, and Anwara sacrificed her magik to share her powers among those seven. And so they were graced with immortality, fire cleansing their slates, and endowed with a power so immense that they were able to guard Edana from shadow...
But Anwara? Her once immense powers were diluted to a mere ember, and though her spirit walked a teetering tightrope between life and death, she held fast through the Battle for Edana.
In the wake of chaos, however, Anwara fell; brittle and grey without her magik, spent from years of sealing Edana from her sister. Her beloved Court of Firebringers went on in her absence, and the nation never forgot their lost Queen.
In the aftermath of Edana’s unlikely success, the people praised Anwara’s name, and it was not long before temples were erected in her honor. Years went by, and the Warrior Queen and her Court became a fable, a legend. Before long, she was revered as a Goddess: the Sun within the sky, keeping the night at bay.
After the death of Anwara, the prestigious line of the Galathiel family lay claim to the throne. Through riches alone, the eldest son was named King. Although perhaps not as kindly as his predecessor, King Galathiel I nonetheless lead Edana to prosperity and regrowth, mending the wartorn land beneath the thumb of the watchful Firebringers.
But years passed, and as the Firebringers wandered from their posts, disappearing from the eye of man, hunger for power became ravenous in the eyes of Galathiel Kings. For nearly 500 years, the family reigned supreme over Edana. And each King was madder than the last.
Tensions reached an insurmountable high beneath the reign of King Galathiel IV, and the healing world of Edana splintered into two groups. The wealthy, living lavishly within the capitol of Edana, hardly minded the King's reign - but the pious and the pure revoluted violently against his apathy, his taxation, and his careless rule. As the King declared himself godly, destroying temples and idols dedicated to Anwara, the world devolved into chaos.
Militias rose and rebellions stirred, and, inevitably, the King called upon a force so devilish that no Edanian had thought to anticipate it.
Through careful breeding, the Galathiel line had contained a population mixed delicately with mortal equine and the undead remnants of Laela's blight. From this combination came a strange, carnivorous equine: the Dracolisk. Bloodthirsty and feral, the Dracolisks of the wilds heeded King Galathiel IV as their master - and they answered his bidding with mindless agreement. Although cognizant of their own brutality, their removal from society and their inherent need to follow a leader left the Dracolisk’s compliant to their chaos. And so, readily, they decimated Edanian society.
Horror spun across the land for months on end, yet the rebels fought on. Some allege that the Firebringers kindled their breaking spirits, while others swear upon the strength of men alone. No matter the case, Edana’s fire was reborn in the spirit of its soldiers, who fought valiantly against their impending defeat.
But as fate would have it, the tides changed, and the air grew warm with hope.
The Dracolisks, a tribal people who had lived on their own for centuries as a species cursed with immortality and inherent barbarity, grew curious of the morals of men. With time, they understood the horrors they were inflicting - and they understood who the enemy truly was.
Bound by the proverbial chains of ignorance, and by a savage life that they hadn’t asked for, the Dracolisks began to comprehend the blasphemy of their very existence. Their rage turned from the citizens of Edana, and onto the family that had created them.
The revolt began with the few Dracolisks that had learned empathy and compassion, and it boiled into a raging inferno that burnt out the Mad King’s reign, incinerating the proverbial shackles he’d placed upon his citizens.
War came to an abrupt end, and with it, the monarchy crumbled into pieces - leaving three kingdoms, bound by their irreverence for tyrants and their fear of darkness.
But, in their fear, the three infant nations - the North, the Midlands, and the South - turned upon the creatures that had nearly annihilated them. The unwanted creations that had nowhere to go, and no command to heed.
Exiled to the Outlands, a place reeking of Laela’s evil, many of the Dracolisks went mad; driven feral by the erraticity of their unending lives. They ceased reproduction, and they fell down a spiraling path of debauchery in the company of their Shadow Kin. Many are thought to have lost all sentience, and the majority of the winged beasts pose a dangerous threat to wanderers in the Outlands.
The Kingdoms, however, joined themselves in an alliance - a promise to never succumb to the whims of one man, and to heed the beacon for help if ever it was lit. As separate entities, they swore to protect one another as sister-nations. With a treaty, signed in what would be known as the Valley of the Kings, they parted ways to heal their homes at last.
But years passed, and as the Firebringers wandered from their posts, disappearing from the eye of man, hunger for power became ravenous in the eyes of Galathiel Kings. For nearly 500 years, the family reigned supreme over Edana. And each King was madder than the last.
Tensions reached an insurmountable high beneath the reign of King Galathiel IV, and the healing world of Edana splintered into two groups. The wealthy, living lavishly within the capitol of Edana, hardly minded the King's reign - but the pious and the pure revoluted violently against his apathy, his taxation, and his careless rule. As the King declared himself godly, destroying temples and idols dedicated to Anwara, the world devolved into chaos.
Militias rose and rebellions stirred, and, inevitably, the King called upon a force so devilish that no Edanian had thought to anticipate it.
Through careful breeding, the Galathiel line had contained a population mixed delicately with mortal equine and the undead remnants of Laela's blight. From this combination came a strange, carnivorous equine: the Dracolisk. Bloodthirsty and feral, the Dracolisks of the wilds heeded King Galathiel IV as their master - and they answered his bidding with mindless agreement. Although cognizant of their own brutality, their removal from society and their inherent need to follow a leader left the Dracolisk’s compliant to their chaos. And so, readily, they decimated Edanian society.
Horror spun across the land for months on end, yet the rebels fought on. Some allege that the Firebringers kindled their breaking spirits, while others swear upon the strength of men alone. No matter the case, Edana’s fire was reborn in the spirit of its soldiers, who fought valiantly against their impending defeat.
But as fate would have it, the tides changed, and the air grew warm with hope.
The Dracolisks, a tribal people who had lived on their own for centuries as a species cursed with immortality and inherent barbarity, grew curious of the morals of men. With time, they understood the horrors they were inflicting - and they understood who the enemy truly was.
Bound by the proverbial chains of ignorance, and by a savage life that they hadn’t asked for, the Dracolisks began to comprehend the blasphemy of their very existence. Their rage turned from the citizens of Edana, and onto the family that had created them.
The revolt began with the few Dracolisks that had learned empathy and compassion, and it boiled into a raging inferno that burnt out the Mad King’s reign, incinerating the proverbial shackles he’d placed upon his citizens.
War came to an abrupt end, and with it, the monarchy crumbled into pieces - leaving three kingdoms, bound by their irreverence for tyrants and their fear of darkness.
But, in their fear, the three infant nations - the North, the Midlands, and the South - turned upon the creatures that had nearly annihilated them. The unwanted creations that had nowhere to go, and no command to heed.
Exiled to the Outlands, a place reeking of Laela’s evil, many of the Dracolisks went mad; driven feral by the erraticity of their unending lives. They ceased reproduction, and they fell down a spiraling path of debauchery in the company of their Shadow Kin. Many are thought to have lost all sentience, and the majority of the winged beasts pose a dangerous threat to wanderers in the Outlands.
The Kingdoms, however, joined themselves in an alliance - a promise to never succumb to the whims of one man, and to heed the beacon for help if ever it was lit. As separate entities, they swore to protect one another as sister-nations. With a treaty, signed in what would be known as the Valley of the Kings, they parted ways to heal their homes at last.
Explained during the Allmother's conclusion to the Summoning, the Lightbringers were a sect of people who combated the gradual return of Laela 800 years after the Great War. They, ultimately, lost. Edana was thrust into chaos, its people either slaughtered or dispersed upon the wind, and the continent was ravaged by the Magic Eater.
Reduced to ruin, what is left of Edana is to be healed, slowly, by the peoples of Mythos. As magic returns, so, too, does light.
Reduced to ruin, what is left of Edana is to be healed, slowly, by the peoples of Mythos. As magic returns, so, too, does light.
