Copyright© 2011 by Celtic Bard
Out of darkness we were brought forth into the Light of the Divine, forged by the hands of the fifteen Lords and Ladies of Heaven to bring wisdom and justice to those who came before us. For we were the Second Divine Miracle, the second time those who watch over creation came together to combine their might. My consciousness awoke to the feel of Sol, Dispenser of Justice, raising me in front of him with a slight smile of pride and satisfaction. As were they, we numbered fifteen, each to go to he who championed the God who chose him. Sol himself brought me to my first master, a powerful yet compassionate warlord bent on creating a strong nation where he and his fellow Humans could live in peace. I was passed down through the ages, traveling the length and breadth of Titia-Lohr with masters of all description. Rarely did I encounter my brethren, and glad was I of that, as those few times I did encounter them I was forced to aid in the vanquishing of their mortal masters.
But as those mortals blessed enough to be favored by the Gods ventured forth with my brethren and I, the Schism began. The Second Divine Miracle would be the last, as the Gods began to turn upon one another in their petty jealousies and dark suspicions. Zondro-Xhan, Lord of the Dead and Creator of Sorcery, struck out at his siblings Sol and Kreu-Garra in jealous rage. The cunning and opportunistic Ptavre-Dei joined his hand to that of Zondro-Xhan, striking their father Lun, dividing his mind and causing his madness to ally with them. In the dark times which followed, the races of Titia-Lohr were scattered before their Gods. Not all races survived the Time of Chaos, and more would follow their fellows into the shadows of legend.
Then the Darkness came. Wars broke out all over Titia-Lohr. The Dei-Xhan collected to them the disenchanted, the poor, the outcast, and the simply evil in an effort to fight off the followers of the other Gods led by Sol and the Illuminants. The masters of the Celestial Objects came together in opposition to the masters of my brethren, Soul-Drinker and Darkblade. Jonas Justinian, a Human and my last master, led the last of the waves of forces who tried to defend the northern reaches against the Dei-Xhan, but to no avail. Despite fortunes, I drank deeply of those bent on evil and injustice. But things turned. Cut off by winter and the creatures of the Netherlands, Jonas' forces were badly outnumbered and fell to defeat. Jonas himself was the last to fall, taking the twenty men sent to secure me with him into the next world. With Jonas' death, the wars ended. My brethren and I found ourselves overcome by the Darkness itself.
When the Darkness broke and the Light returned to Titia-Lohr, I found myself encased in rock and ice. The wind moaned unhappily through the mountains surrounding my prison, my poor master's once hale body frozen upon the mount on which we took our last stand. What light and warmth there was did not last very long in the frozen wastes I felt about me.
I felt lost.
I felt alone.
And not since the first day of my birth in the hands of Subteo and Sol, there were no living sentients within range of my perception. The Gods had forsaken me in their quarrels and my latest master felled in his flight from dangers too great to overcome. I despaired and prayed to Genifer-Elia, Bringer of Light and Mother of the Universe.
To my great amazement, she answered. Bide your time, great cleaver of Sol, for there will come a time when you and your brethren shall once more walk this place which we have created. And when this time comes, so shall come the great and mighty heroes and villains worthy of you all. Then her presence was gone and I was left alone once more with the wind and the ice and the things which haunt the nether regions of my entombment, to dream of the one who would come. The one worthy...