Post by (The) Herald on May 23, 2012 7:11:49 GMT -5
~ b e g i n n i n g
In the legends of Himaryn lore, the beginning of the universe began with a single Thought. It was a tiny Notion that tumbled out of nothingness, from absolute space and un-born time, barely a speck of conscience against the massive canvas of eternal designs that was the most of beautiful, simple, and perfect of harmonious silences.
And Thought was its first child, and she became known as the Creatrix.
Thought filled the universe with her whimsical desires and fantasies, and gradually she shaped formless space into all things that exist. She made many things, some an innumerable amount of creations, but her favorite among them all were her Children, whom she gifted everything she knew, even fragments of herself.
To give her Children, the demi-gods, some place to play, laugh, sing, and dance, the Creatrix made a great island of gardens and floated it in the heavens, high in the sky. She gifted them happiness, goodness, beauty, prowess, and intelligence. She even gifted them vanity and the power to rule over the universe when they asked, because the Creatrix was kind and refused nothing. The Creatrix was kind and refused nothing. The Creatrix was kind and refused nothing. It happened again and again, and the Creatrix never refused her Children of any request.
Thus were created the demi-gods that became the masters of the universe. And no one saw any ill, because the world was happy and no one had the desire to complain.
There was, however, one trivial restriction the Creatrix had for her Children, and no matter how much they asked, this was the single and only gift she would never grant her Children, nor would she explain why.
At the center of the floating Isle in the heavens, there was a great pillar known as the Himaryn. It was inexplicably large—some several thousand meters high and certainly larger than anything that existed. It never appeared to have a purpose, as it was merely a giant stone pillar, and the demi-gods had long overlooked the existence of the Himaryn, as it was as natural a sight to them as the sun or the moon.
Of all things, Thought refused to allow her Children to climb the Pillar of Himaryn. Not that anyone would ever dream of climb an unadorned flat pillar as high as the sky anyways, but the Creatrix made it explicitly clear no one was ever to do so. Not ever.
And this did not bother the Children for the longest while, as they were satisfied with all the other gifts they endlessly received. For timeless years, decades, and centuries, they hungered ravenously over their extravagant gifts, forgetting the Pillar in its entirety, pleased but not quite ever completely satisfied.
A filling meal never felt full. The most delicious nectar of the heavens and earth tasted bitter. Extreme happiness and celebration even felt depressing. The contradiction left the Children upset and confused, for they wondered why their dear Creatrix's gifts always seemed to get worse in quality. They were, simply, jealous.
"What was it up upon the top of the The Himaryn that the Holy Spirit selfishly did not want them to see?" They remembered with sour recollection.
And thus was sparked within them the great desire to climb the Pillar of Himaryn. Lacking the means to scale the pillar, the demigods worked together and combined their wits. They asked the Holy Spirit for wings, and they were granted wings. They asked the Holy Spirit for control over air, water, fire, and earth. They were granted control over the Heavens and Earth. They ask the Holy Spirit for control over the sky itself. And the Holy Spirit was kind and refused nothing.
And then, finally, the demigod Icarus, the oldest brother, took himself into flight and soared into the heavens. He flew above the Pillar, and saw that it was flat and smooth and empty stone at its peak. But he floated down and drifted on to the rock nonetheless, and the universe seemed to silence itself in dreadful anticipation of the ultimate and only disobedience.
Suddenly there were great rumbles and groans that came from the earthen wares of the floating Isle Himaryn in sky. It creaked in pain, flexed, sheared, roared, and seemed as if it would be torn apart in thunderous noise. And it stopped in silence for a moment.
And then the floating Isle crumbled, and it fell. It fell and fell and fell and fell. It fell until it struck the earth, a rawer place where demons lurked. It fell, and everything shattered. The mountains of Himaryn shatterred into rumble. The lakes shattered, and the beautiful temples shattered. But that did not matter because the Earth would nurture these shattered fragments and nurse them one future day into something green and wonderful and natural.
But the Thought's Children, trapped in a falling Isle, also fell and plummeted with the Himaryn, and even their divine bones shattered when they struck the earth. They felt pain then and they cried to their kind Mother to stop it stop it stop it!
And the Creatrix was kind and refused nothing. Thus was created Death, and the Eternal Heaven her Children went to reside over.
The only thing that survived the Fall unscathed was the Pillar (which was indestructible), and atop it Icarus, who floated down on soft wings of petals. Icarus wept, wailed, cried, begged, and even threatened the Creatrix for everything to be undone. But then Thought paid no heed, for she was kind, and already had given all her Faith.
In the legends of Himaryn lore, the beginning of the universe began with a single Thought. It was a tiny Notion that tumbled out of nothingness, from absolute space and un-born time, barely a speck of conscience against the massive canvas of eternal designs that was the most of beautiful, simple, and perfect of harmonious silences.
And Thought was its first child, and she became known as the Creatrix.
Thought filled the universe with her whimsical desires and fantasies, and gradually she shaped formless space into all things that exist. She made many things, some an innumerable amount of creations, but her favorite among them all were her Children, whom she gifted everything she knew, even fragments of herself.
To give her Children, the demi-gods, some place to play, laugh, sing, and dance, the Creatrix made a great island of gardens and floated it in the heavens, high in the sky. She gifted them happiness, goodness, beauty, prowess, and intelligence. She even gifted them vanity and the power to rule over the universe when they asked, because the Creatrix was kind and refused nothing. The Creatrix was kind and refused nothing. The Creatrix was kind and refused nothing. It happened again and again, and the Creatrix never refused her Children of any request.
Thus were created the demi-gods that became the masters of the universe. And no one saw any ill, because the world was happy and no one had the desire to complain.
There was, however, one trivial restriction the Creatrix had for her Children, and no matter how much they asked, this was the single and only gift she would never grant her Children, nor would she explain why.
At the center of the floating Isle in the heavens, there was a great pillar known as the Himaryn. It was inexplicably large—some several thousand meters high and certainly larger than anything that existed. It never appeared to have a purpose, as it was merely a giant stone pillar, and the demi-gods had long overlooked the existence of the Himaryn, as it was as natural a sight to them as the sun or the moon.
Of all things, Thought refused to allow her Children to climb the Pillar of Himaryn. Not that anyone would ever dream of climb an unadorned flat pillar as high as the sky anyways, but the Creatrix made it explicitly clear no one was ever to do so. Not ever.
And this did not bother the Children for the longest while, as they were satisfied with all the other gifts they endlessly received. For timeless years, decades, and centuries, they hungered ravenously over their extravagant gifts, forgetting the Pillar in its entirety, pleased but not quite ever completely satisfied.
A filling meal never felt full. The most delicious nectar of the heavens and earth tasted bitter. Extreme happiness and celebration even felt depressing. The contradiction left the Children upset and confused, for they wondered why their dear Creatrix's gifts always seemed to get worse in quality. They were, simply, jealous.
"What was it up upon the top of the The Himaryn that the Holy Spirit selfishly did not want them to see?" They remembered with sour recollection.
And thus was sparked within them the great desire to climb the Pillar of Himaryn. Lacking the means to scale the pillar, the demigods worked together and combined their wits. They asked the Holy Spirit for wings, and they were granted wings. They asked the Holy Spirit for control over air, water, fire, and earth. They were granted control over the Heavens and Earth. They ask the Holy Spirit for control over the sky itself. And the Holy Spirit was kind and refused nothing.
And then, finally, the demigod Icarus, the oldest brother, took himself into flight and soared into the heavens. He flew above the Pillar, and saw that it was flat and smooth and empty stone at its peak. But he floated down and drifted on to the rock nonetheless, and the universe seemed to silence itself in dreadful anticipation of the ultimate and only disobedience.
Suddenly there were great rumbles and groans that came from the earthen wares of the floating Isle Himaryn in sky. It creaked in pain, flexed, sheared, roared, and seemed as if it would be torn apart in thunderous noise. And it stopped in silence for a moment.
And then the floating Isle crumbled, and it fell. It fell and fell and fell and fell. It fell until it struck the earth, a rawer place where demons lurked. It fell, and everything shattered. The mountains of Himaryn shatterred into rumble. The lakes shattered, and the beautiful temples shattered. But that did not matter because the Earth would nurture these shattered fragments and nurse them one future day into something green and wonderful and natural.
But the Thought's Children, trapped in a falling Isle, also fell and plummeted with the Himaryn, and even their divine bones shattered when they struck the earth. They felt pain then and they cried to their kind Mother to stop it stop it stop it!
And the Creatrix was kind and refused nothing. Thus was created Death, and the Eternal Heaven her Children went to reside over.
The only thing that survived the Fall unscathed was the Pillar (which was indestructible), and atop it Icarus, who floated down on soft wings of petals. Icarus wept, wailed, cried, begged, and even threatened the Creatrix for everything to be undone. But then Thought paid no heed, for she was kind, and already had given all her Faith.
~ e p i l o g u e
Icarus, in the mortal world, became a father of many sons and daughters. He mated with the demons of the earth, and begot many children of different shapes and forms, all of whom were the ancestors of the Seir today.
His intelligent children constructed a great city at the site of the Himaryn's Fall, although the fragments of the Isle itself had long disintegrated and fallen haphazardly across the face of the World. And as Icarus continued to produce heirs of his legacy, the great city of Nairsov eventually became crowded, and his sons and daughters itched to leave to populate the expanse of the World.
And the Father of the Seir eventually capitulated, and the Seir departed in great numbers to the north and south and east and west. Some of these fortune-seeking children would forget their heritage and become the primitive barbarian nomads who inhabited the steppes, and others would go on to found great kingdoms greater than Nairsov else-place far from their home of common origin. The diaspora of Seir would reach the far corners of the earth, forgotten, and Icarus was their father.
Such was the story of beginning.
Icarus, in the mortal world, became a father of many sons and daughters. He mated with the demons of the earth, and begot many children of different shapes and forms, all of whom were the ancestors of the Seir today.
His intelligent children constructed a great city at the site of the Himaryn's Fall, although the fragments of the Isle itself had long disintegrated and fallen haphazardly across the face of the World. And as Icarus continued to produce heirs of his legacy, the great city of Nairsov eventually became crowded, and his sons and daughters itched to leave to populate the expanse of the World.
And the Father of the Seir eventually capitulated, and the Seir departed in great numbers to the north and south and east and west. Some of these fortune-seeking children would forget their heritage and become the primitive barbarian nomads who inhabited the steppes, and others would go on to found great kingdoms greater than Nairsov else-place far from their home of common origin. The diaspora of Seir would reach the far corners of the earth, forgotten, and Icarus was their father.
Such was the story of beginning.