Humanity

Seeing what became of Its elves, The Magus was not particularly bothered. With their long lives, infrequent births, and inherent caution, they had been rather boring. It created a few more elves, hiding them in the far reaches of the world so their cousins could not easily find them. Once It had done this, It turned to Its next project. These, It decided, would not be so boring.

They looked almost elven, these new creations, though they were stronger in build. These, It turned greenish-gray, and It gave them short, brutal lives. They had sharp teeth, and were completely unafraid.

But It made their lives too short. They had little care for the long aeons ahead. These creatures, It named orcs, and they did spread to many parts their predecessors had left untouched in their fear. They formed large, warlike bands, creating a rough, cruel society. For a while, It was content to watch their incessant infighting, but It quickly became bored.

And so it went.

The Magus created many races in this way. Some had long lives, some had short. Most were unafraid of the dark, many could see with little light. It even revisited the elves, twisting Its creations into new forms.

But none of Its creations held Its attention long.

Finally, It focused Itself. Its new project had to have a shorter lifespan than the elves, or It would get bored of them quickly, but longer than the orcs, or It would have little use for them in the long run. They couldn't be timid or fearful, but nor could they be completely unafraid. They wouldn't be as strong as the orcs, nor as fragile as the elves. This new creation would be a middle ground, a compromise between all Its previous creations.

And they would be perfect.

It called them humans, and they quickly outstripped the orcs in their exploration. They had lives just long enough to taste eternity, without being frozen by it. They planned for a future they would never live to see. They had genius, they had madness, they had paragons and villains, they had brutal destroyers and peaceful healers.

They were chaos.

And The Magus loved them dearly.

Plague

It came to pass that Dios favored a certain group of mortals greatly. These mortals were called elves, and they were full of life. The Magus's power shone brightly in them. They were the first mortals It put Its entire self into creating, and that light was a beacon. Every elf that gave praise to the Sun, gave praise to the Light, was another spark of The Magus's power reclaimed.

Nyx grew envious.

She had no mortals of her own to play with. The elves, as She knew, feared the Night, for they could not see in the darkness. In the beginning, the elves were the only mortals worth playing with: they were the only mortals who could think. They made plans, they had dreams. No other mortal could boast such things.

And so Nyx went down amongst the elves at night, disguising Herself as a beautiful, if blind, young woman.

"Why do you hide?" She called out to them, standing in the town square.

One very brave elf cracked open the shutters to his window to respond. "It isn't safe," he explained. "You should go inside."

She shook Her head. "The Night is beautiful, if only you could see It." She beckoned the elf, and he closed the window to Her.

So it went. Nyx would cajole the elves to leave their homes, and one by one, the elves refused, until at last, a small child left her empty home. Nyx knew this child. Once in the forest, her family had been slaughtered by wolves. Nyx had watched with interest, but had not intervened.

"They won't come," the child explained. "They are too afraid."

Nyx smiled down at the child. "Why are they so afraid, little one?"

"The darkness hides fearsome beasts," said the girl. "We cannot see them to fight back."

Nyx rested a hand over the girl's eyes. "Then I will give you sight to pierce the darkness," She spoke, and so it was. The girl could see in darkness.

"The creatures are too strong to fight, Mistress," said the child.

And Nyx shifted Her hand, resting it atop the child's head. "Then I shall make you strong enough to face any challenge. No beast will be too great for you."

The Goddess did this for each member of the clan Ba'naelro, and She became diminished for her efforts. Her spark shone dark, shadowing The Magus' own, and her people were strong.

God-touched, Her children did not age. They were masters of all beasts. They were strong, and they were cunning. However, although as creatures of the light they had been able to suffer the darkness, as Children of Night, the reverse was no longer true. Sunlight burned them, as did places and things consecrated to Dios. Submersion in fresh waters weakened them, burning their skin like acid.

However, the Night was beautiful to them, and they were powerful. They became content with their new place in the world, and Nyx was content with her single clan of mortals.

One day, Dios learned of this treachery.

He raged endlessly, unable to find, much less punish, the wayward tribe. In His stead, He sent His most powerful clerics, and His fiercest warriors, to kill the Night Children.

The Night Children sent the warriors and clerics back in pieces, suffering only few losses.

So it continued for some time, and this grieved Nyx. She is above all else, a goddess of healing, not war. Her children's deaths weighed heavy on her heart, especially as they could not reproduce as mortals did to replenish their numbers.

In her grief, Nyx bestowed upon her children new powers. They would be able to become as beasts, or fine mist, and they could heal any wound

Most importantly, by sharing their blood with a true mortal, they could create new Night Children, and thereby replenish their ranks. These new creatures were the first vampires, and they did not have the divine spark their parents were given. They craved it, needed it to sustain their power - no, their very lives. Before long, they turned on their parents, killing almost every last elf of the clan Ba'naelro.

Then, when there were no more Children to be found, the vampires turned outward. They hunted down any elves they could find. Some did choose to expand their numbers, creating a great many vampires. Many did not, choosing instead to leave a wake of drained bodies behind.

So ended the time of the elves.

Creation Myth - Harte

All things are born of The Magus. In the beginning, It created the Day and the Night, the Light and the Dark. This is why these things remain the easiest to conjure; Dios and Nyx are The Magus's oldest, and most powerful, children.

From the beginning, there was conflict, for the first children were too different, and each abhorred the other. "I will not share the sky with Her," said Dios, and He tore the very eyes from Her face. These became the moons, Nyx's firstborn, and her blood pooled between them, forming the great oceans.

Nyx struck back unerringly, for Her eyes still saw Her Enemy. She ripped a single eye from Dios's face in retribution, and this became the Sun. With her clever claws, She shredded His body, and His flesh became the Earth, his blood becoming the rivers and lakes.

So it came to pass that between Them, They formed a world, around which They circle endlessly, each waiting for the other to step falsely.

Other great spirits then came to be. Aqos, Nyx's left eye, watches over the waters, while Fyra, Nyx's right eye, burns constantly in pain, for He is scarred and unwhole. His fragmented self became the bloody red moon and the many stars in the sky. He governs Fire, that mortals may burn as He does.

Arya, the great spirit of air, formed around the world when Dios and Nyx lay together, panting and spent, exhausted from their first battle. She is their shared breath, and governs Air. Arya refuses to take a side in the great war, for she loves Her parents equally.

Eiran, Dios's second child, formed the Earth to His liking, shifting it in great, heaving shakes, as His body is Dios's cast-off flesh.

Dalia, the Sun, works with Aqos and Eiran, to help all living things to grow.

All living things are born of The Magus. It seeded the world with mortals of every shape and size, for only a God as mad as It could create with such variety, and all mortal beings are Its playthings.

Despite this, no sane mortal worships The Magus, for none would survive Its full attention long.