"And so the first age began, a testimony to the birth of corruption. One shadow stood higher among the many monoliths, mere darkness among tangible reality. What a fool that shadow was, for it did not realize how much pain and torment, how much strife and damnation, would spring from its whispering fingertips."
- The Old One
This is the opening stage of the tyrant: a black void, a lack of perception itself, encompassing the senses. Within this void there is nothing, except a few vague forms utterly alien to their surrounding darkness. These take the forms of towering men and women, Lords and ladies, saturation and color gone from their skin amidst the backdrop of the abyss. They wander, their eyes, bodies, and minds aimless as they await a spark, a smoke signal to set this place on its inevitable path.
So marks the beginning of the first age, the age of a new creation, a new world. Artukos, one of the greatest of the Lords in the hole throughout existence, wished for something greater than uninterrupted silence. Through some outside influence, that of which even Artukos himself was unaware, he suddenly saw the inky blackness in a new light. He began to see his fellow Lords and Ladies not as entities separate from himself, but as pawns worth controlling, servants worth ruling over. In that day and age, power and hierarchy had no name, for it was an idea that had never been conceived within a mind. However, Artukos was the first of the many to see in terms of superior and inferior, strong and weak. In a bout of glorious drivel, Artukos proclaimed himself as the highest within what he referred to as his great Lordly Pantheon. "Through my strength, you shall be made purposeful," he said, "through my resolve shall we build something out of this nothingness," he promised, yet he did not understand his own words or what they truly meant. This flood of sudden understanding and pride had blinded him to all logic and reasoning, but the ignorant silence of the other Lords and Ladies nurtured his confidence and resolve. He wished to enlighten them about what he had suddenly come to understand, but Artukos did not yet comprehend the corrupting nature of pride.
As empty shells of what they were destined to become, the others did not understand Artukos. Even a whisper had never been uttered in this dark void, and so the sound of a voice was an utterly alien stimulus. The silence and confusion of the others angered Artukos, and so with his newfound understanding of power and pride, he seized Viabaas, another of the mightiest Lords. Artukos screamed and hissed at the peaceful visage of Viabaas, an endless stare into the bleakness of eternity. With this, those glazed eyes, lost in the depths of thought, suddenly snapped to, truly opening for the first time in existence.
Viabaas was the second among the Lords and Ladies to be awoken from their slumber, and he too saw a concept in his mind that had never been realized before that moment. In an instant, Viabaas beheld the gilded edges of caregiving, of compassion, and of family. His mind unshackled, he understood the meaning of what Artukos had said to him moments ago, in that forgotten dream Viabaas had been entombed within. With company Artukos' resolve softened, and so he went to explore everything that lay within that damned abyss; However, Viabaas did not join him. Instead, he went to awaken the other members of the Pantheon from their slumber through the touch of his right hand. This power of touch meant more than either Artukos or Viabaas could ever understand at that moment. The physical touch of a Lord or Lady of the Pantheon marks the creation of sentience in their likeness. For this reason, Artukos and Viabaas willed themselves to be intertwined through fate, and Viabaas' thoughts towards the others of the Pantheon caused an inseparable bond to form between him and the rest of the Pantheon. Unwittingly, Viabaas had doomed himself to be the fated leader of the soon-to-be-created, and Artukos had made himself the outcast of the world soon to be formed, only tied by the single thread that was Viabaas.
With each new mind awakened, each gained a strange new understanding of their new existence. Some understood wrath and anger, while others understood peace or prosperity. Some knowledge or wisdom, some deception or charisma. However, one of the many, Akina, one of the most resolute and powerful of the countless Ladies, gained no understanding of herself, but rather understanding of the others. She shared this epiphany, and Viabaas suggested that Akina should act as the records keeper of the Pantheon. With this, Akina became the Lower Lady of Secrets and Doors, the first to gain a domain of the world.
Almost as if it had already been decided, the Pantheon, who had not seen Artukos, wished to name Viabaas their leader. Viabaas, who remembered the hazy words of Artukos, told the others that there was another, one who had awoken him and spoken of his own great power, pride, and resolve. The Pantheon remained dubious towards this so-called leader and began to whisper among themselves, saying how Viabaas may have dreamt it. Akina, who could hear these whispered secrets and had remained loyal to Viabaas, asked where this being had gone, and so Viabaas led the Lordly Pantheon to find the one who had first awakened.
The Epiphany of the Wraith Globe
"And so a world of slavery and pain was born. A world of tyranny and blindness. The binding seal was set upon the highest peak, something was created from nothing, and even the mind of the creator was enslaved."
- Viabaas, The High Lord of Compassion, Angels, and Family
With his exploration outwards, Artukos found nothing except darkness and despair. This place was a lack of everything, a damned crater from something that should have never existed, even for an instant. However, with this blank canvas Artukos suddenly saw an opportunity: a new creation. With a flourish of his uncorrupted hand, faint and blurry shapes lept into sight for a moment, only to fade away in the next. Artukos stared at his handiwork in awe, unsure of what he had done, but just a moment later he realized his greatest tool of all: the power of creation. As the first awakened, Artukos' very being was gifted a one-of-a-kind connection to The One who had set all of this in motion, and so from Artukos' hands could spring to life almost anything he could imagine.
From Artukos' mind and fingers lept the grandiose of a massive mountain peak, a spear through the all-encompassing oblivion. The darkness was finally pierced, and a craggy shape emerged and towered over the small shadow who had formed it. Artukos' marveled for a moment, admiring his work, but he was not yet finished. He wished to create more: a paradise and testament to his newfound pride. Artukos envisioned beauty incarnate, and earth erupted around the stony peak. Moss and foliage cropped up from the cracks within, and water burst forth from all sides of the mountain, flowing through the land as it unfolded from nothingness. Artukos pushed his mind further and further, pressing his ever-expanding lifeforce against the barriers of the hole in the world, and his creation followed suit, expanding until it fell off into the worlds surrounding.
During their search for Artukos, the other Lords and Ladies of the pantheon stood shocked as color swept its way through this place that had been dark for nearly a millennia. From this, they hastened to the source of this great wave of creation.
Much like an intricate jewel, Artukos wished for his great creation to have many facets, and so he created smaller worlds within his paradise. Some were just mere echoes of the most brilliant facet of all; Those which represented the ever-changing, the static, the dreary, and the beautiful. However; others were unique: a great clock to maintain the flow of time, a place of order to serve as Artukos' personal orchard, and andless sea that would be a blank from which something new could form. Those sixteen that were unique Artukos placed upon his finger as a ring, for he especially enjoyed their luxuries and wished to keep them for himself.
As he placed that ring of sixteen stars on his finger, the rest of the Lordly Pantheon found their way to Artukos. Many questions were had by the mob, concerns of the creation or of his leadership, but even the smallest question was a spiteful slight against Artukos' self-proclaimed authority and most importantly his pride. He lashed out at the others, angered as to why they would question him, as he was the first awakened. The others had no rebuttal to this, and Artukos realized in his mind that authority and power required an iron fist of leadership in order to succeed. From this thought were birthed the five brainchildren of Artukos', the terrible Fegnaór legionnaires.
Their visage embodied the malice behind Artukos' realization, five winged amalgamations of crimson and jagged bone, prejudice incarnate. The Fegnaórs' minds forever laid alongside their creator's, and so their only servitude lay in Artukos. Just as the thoughts they were birthed from, the Fegnaór's only purpose was to prevent rebellion against the perfect will of their master. As the five twisted figures appeared in a swirling of cinder and whispers, Artukos felt another surge of power as he was once again assured that nothing could stand in his way. With that, he ordered the rest of the Lordly Pantheon to watch quietly while he completed his masterwork. As they had no understanding of the domain of pride, the other Lords and Ladies complied, still believing that Artukos was benevolently creating a world simply for the sake of beauty and majesty.
The Birth of the Finite Races
"The astral whisperings... There is a reason they come from the stars within Viabaas' ring: If you peel back the constellation above us, all that is left is the void within each of us."
- Unknown
With his creation of the Fegnaór, Artukos no longer felt a connection to the Lordly Pantheon. He felt a creeping loneliness invade his mind, a sensation that reminded him of his long slumber, his long ignorance. This made his pride reel, so as a remedy Artukos wished to create a being far weaker than himself or the other Lords and Ladies of the pantheon. However, weakness and frailty were not in his mind, so he could not do it with his own power. Instead, he reached up towards the swirling black canvas above and plucked it from its pedestal, hoping to use it to form a being in his likeness.
As Artukos did this, the space behind the darkness revealed a pale grey haze stretching off into the vast infinity. This was the emptiness that stretched to the boundaries of that which was destroyed, and so the sky would remain a symbol of loss and dreariness until the end of the eighth age. The sky would remain this hue of grey until the end of the Early Wraith War and would act as a reminder of what came before.
Artukos laid out the billowing tarp of black before his feet and, with just a moment of hesitation, reached his arm within the void. He sifted his whispering fingers left and right through the thick liquid until he felt his hand clench around something solid and slightly warm to the touch. Pulling it out, the shape appeared to be a wisp of white flame: a mortal's soul. With this, Artukos had found his company. He placed the billowings of the void within the depths of the great mountain peak he had erected and set out to begin his greatest work yet. With a goal now clearly set in his mind, Artukos saw no further reason for the other Lords and Ladies to remain, and so he bid them to explore his creation as much as they please, at least for the time being. As of yet, no other Lord or Lady save Viabaas had any idea of what Artukos' true intentions were. As the second awakened, Viabaas suspected that Artukos stood for that against his own domain of caregiving, compassion, and family. In order to guard against foul play, Viabaas did not stray too far from the mountain peak at the center of Artukos' creation, observing the actions of the creator Lord.
With the help of the Fegnaór, Artukos withdrew nearly three thousand mortal souls from the void within the mountain, and so he formed a vessel for each in his own likeness. One by one, each mortal gained a new physical form, a form imbued with a tinge of Artukos' own tendency for pride. With this, Artukos had become exhausted after his countless exertions, and so he willed the Fegnaór to watch over the mortals he had created while he rested at the peak of the mount. Because of this, the craggy peak became known by the name Karar'at, which means "first awakening and slumber" in the tongue of the Lordly pantheon.
In his deepest sleep, Artukos had a vision, a glimpse into a future that would never occur. This was one of the curses the Lordly Pantheon inherited: dreaming of timelines that withered and died in their infancy. However, this chronicle is not the place for that first dream of the Creator Lord, so it will be excluded. I wish that cursed wisdom upon no one but myself.
After his sleep, Artokus awoke, ready to continue the design of his paradise. He strode down the side of Mount Karar'at, his voice booming to the mortals that he had formed. With these words, he divided the mortals into 9 races: the Cuirdhainn, the Gemmar, the Haerus, the Logius, The Vandor, the Ge'Nash, the Midaelus, the Teditum, and the Serbantu.
The Cuirdhainn were the first created by Artukos, and most resemble the form of the Lordly Pantheon. Much like the Pantheon, their expertise and skill range widely. Some would serve as tinkerers, others as builders, and some even as mortal warriors in the Artukos' legion. In the common tongue of the Finite Races, they would come to be known as the Human.
The Gemmar were the great stone masons and miners of Artukos, hewing away the interior of Mount Karar'at for his great palace. Stout yet skilled with their hands, they often became excluded from the other 8, diving into deeper and deeper crevices to seek an ounce of peace in the midst of their slavery. In time, they would become known as the Dwarven.
The Haerus came to upkeep the eighteen planes within Artukos' starlit ring. For this reason, they were far more long-lived than the other mortal races, for Artukos' poured the most willpower of the 9 into the Haerus. Their elegance and wisdom reflected their original purpose, but the pride they inherited from Artukos made them see themselves as higher than the other races. The Finite Races would come to know them as the Elven.
The Logius were the tinkerer race of the mortals. They shared the facial features of the Haerus for their purpose of upkeeping the great clock of the world (which they would come to name Mechanus during their slavery under Artukos), yet their fine craftsmanship gave them a stoutness comparable to the skilled Gemmar. Some of the Logius would eventually grow bored of the predictability of machinery and would strive to explore the intricacy and art of nature. Among the Finite races, they were called the Gnomish.
The Vandor were designed as the specialized entertainers of Artukos. He gifted them as much nimbleness and luck as he could muster so they could awe and amaze him with their wonderful exploits. However, they were not the only source of entertainment for the Creator Lord. In the common tongue of the Finite Races, they would come to be known as the Halfling.
The Ge'Nash were Artukos' first attempt at creating an army, but they ultimately failed in the High Lord's eyes. Great in strength and stature, Artukos wished to draw from the menace and hatred of the Fegnaór to create an easily replicated warrior, but even with all his life force, the Creator Lord failed to spread massive strength and physique equally among so many. Ultimately, the Ge'Nash would make up the lowest rank in Artukos' legion, even below the messenger Senmaar. They would become known in the mortal tongue as the Orcish.
The Midaelus would become the mortal guardians of the lower levels of Artukos' labyrinthine palace, and they were designed with this role in mind. Many of the Midaelus could barely control their unbridled anger towards those found within their perimeter of the tunnels and caverns, but with the resolution of the Lords' Rebellion, some of the Midaēlus gained a semblance of thought and wisdom. After their freedom, they would become known as the Minotaur.
The Teditum were acrobats and climbers, filling many roles for Artukos' wishes. Some acted as spies, some as scouts. Others assisted the Vándor in their mischievous entertainment, but most of the Teditum acted as pets for their powerful creator. Some say that this is why the Mortal Races became fond of housecats once they gained their freedom from the original oppressor. In time, they would be known as the Tabaxi in the common tongue.
The Serbantu were the last created by Artukos, and for good reason. These serpentine peoples would act as the slave masters of the other 8, obeying and relaying every command the Creator Lord gave them. They embodied much of their creator's hatred and spite towards all who opposed him, including the other Lords and Ladies within the Lordly Pantheon. The Serbantu would become known as the Yuan-Ti after their exile from the Material Plane.
In this great proclamation during his descent from the mount, Artukos would further bid his new creations to begin the construction of his great palace. This great structure would cover the full circumference of Mount Karar'at and would grow roots deep into the mountain's core, where the billowings of the void lay dormant. Their roles appointed and their natures decided, these three thousand strong would begin tireless work under the supervision of the Fegnaór, first building up hosuing for their Lord and his legionnaires at the very pinnacle of Mount Karar'at, then building quaint housing for themselves near to its base. Beginning with very little thought of their own, the first generation would slave away, building the foundations of the palace, procreating and increasing their number all the while. The second generation of mortals would do much the same, but through their parents' acts of creation that made them, a degree of freedom would be born in their minds. They would begin to strive for more than their endless work; They would strive for love, for joy, for growth and beauty. Towards the end of this first age, birth would become the symbol of rebellion against the tyranny of their Lordly master.
To finish his time of creation, Artukos called forth one last being into existence, a keeper of the billowings of void and of the souls within. This being took on the visage of a small dark bird made in the image of Artukos, and so Clamor, the first Kenku and the keeper of the Well, was brought into being. Clamor would be appointed to watch over the subterranean sea that was the Billowings of the Void, and soon enough Artukos would gift clamor a weapon most dangerous and contrary to the very creation he had made.
The Early Life of the Finite Races
"The slaves, the trials, and the entertainment. The Finite Races were all of this and more to Artukos, the Lord of Wraiths."
- Kairus Jarkal, Historian of the Order of Wizardry
As generations died and sprouted anew like the cycle of the seasons, the construction of Artukos' great palace was complete. The name of this palace can never be uttered again, for its name was blotted from language forever during the resolution of the Lords' Rebellion. Its splendor was indescribable, its majesty was all-encompassing. If Artukos' wish was to represent the pride he had for his creation with one monument, he succeeded with this great palace. However, it was not without great sacrifice. Shunning the continual stream of disgust from the other members of the Lordly Pantheon, Artukos sucked every ounce of strength from the Finite Races. They served as his slaves during the creation of his great palace, and so it became a monument to tyranny rather than majesty. The only mortals that were spared from this time of suffering were the Serbantu and the Midaelus, along with a few who were lucky enough to gain some sort of pity from their creator. The tens of thousands left were not so lucky, either laboring diligently until they fell dead from exhaustion or rebelling against Artukos and dooming themselves to the worst fate of all: the Trial of the Disobedient.
The Trial of the Disobedient was a way for Artukos to manipulate and play with those who were foolish enough to wrong him. Many mortals were cast into the depths of the Well of Souls, left to wander the dangerous depths of the palace, including the Soulful Depths, the Powder Kegs, the Foundry of Karar'at, the Trash Heap, and even greater challenges for those who managed to claw their way up further through the maze. Artukos even recalled Midaelus near to the exiled mortals so as to not spoil his fun. The trial was a death sentence, no matter how long one survived or how high one traversed. If one were to approach the Citadel of Wraiths, Artukos would comfort them, telling them that he would forget their transgressions against him if they simply rang the bell at the peak of the citadel. It was always a lie, a ploy to bring the exiles a glimmer of hope only to extinguish it in their greatest moment of despair. No mortal before the Lords' Rebellion climbed further than the citadel; they were always cut down by the Wraith and Spectre legions that Artukos set in place, waiting for their master's cruel deception to be sprung like a trap.
If one were to even reach the pinnacle of the Citadel of Wraiths, they would be met by one final guardian of the bell: Koudoúni, the Bell Keeper of Karar'at. Towering with twisted metal engraved into its skin, Koudoúni held a crooked scythe with the Bell of Karar'at hanging on one end, completely silent. It is said by some that Koudoúni was even more formidable than the Fegnaór, for it was birthed from both the mind of Artukos and the work of the laboratory below. The sole purpose of the Bell Keeper of Karar'at was to torment the Finite Races, so it embodied all of Artukos' hate and loathing towards the weak and powerless. With its great cleaving blade, it was an entity that represented a son of Artukos, a grafted child of the Wraith Lord. It used its scythe like a masterful musician uses their instrument, dancing and whirling in a beautiful cacophony of disorder until any who stood before it were slashed to pieces.
In the face of these countless uprisings, Artukos put in a place a structure to return order to his opulent palace. The Will of Artukos was born, a police force created to stifle all forms of rebellion through the city. However, this was only in part through intimidation and brute force. In the upper echelon of the palace, bordering the spires of the five Fegnaór and even the abode of Artukos himself, was built the grand archives, the mind and central node of the Will. From the minds of genius Haelus and Logius sprung a machine within the archives, one used to cloud the minds of the mortals within the palace and to tear down rebellion at its root. This would become the foundation of the Will of Artukos, which would flourish udner Artukos' dominion until the end of the first age.
Although the greatest honor a mortal could achieve would be to find themselves in the ranks of the Will, a similarly high honor would be that of a solider, either voluntary or not, within the grand legions of the Wraith Lord. Although the Ge'Nash were originaly made solely for this purpose, they soon become the lowest within the legion, simple fodder in their Lord's campaigns. As the Will of Artukos grew within the minds of the palace's inhabitants, all mortals were encouraged to fight in the name of their creator, joining alongside the Ge'Nash to fight in half-forgotten battlefiled across Artukos' creation. Some among the Ge'Nash would fall in love and have children with the other mortals within the legion, although such children would be outcasts among their Ge'Nash brothers and sisters, a prejudice that would continue until the fifth age.
With the failure of the Ge'nash as more specialized warriors, Artukos instead chose to form a new army one by one, taking great care to produce in each of them immaculate killing prowess. In this way, the Lord of Wraiths was able to fully unleash his wrath that had been so present when the Fegnaór were birthed from his mind. the majority of this new legion was divided into five species of ruthless killing machines: the Vitsodens, the Zilevū, the Senmaar, the Myrkurs, and the Kipát.
The Vitsodens and Zilevū represent the middle ranks of the legions, those who would be called Wraiths. The Vitsodens delight in physical torment and pain, especially in harmful vices. They served as the torturers of Artukos, and so they became colloquially known as the Nine-Tailed Wraiths. The Zilevū are the deceivers of the Mortals races, those who kept many in line by assuring their thoughts that Artukos meant the best for them. With a silver tongue, the Zilevū were able to deceive all but those of the Lordly Pantheon of Artukos' hidden intentions, and would become a common sight within the grand archives of the upper palace as well as the Will of Artukos.
the Senmaar, Myrkurs, and Kipát represent the lower ranks of Artukos' Legion, those who would be called Spectres. The Senmaar acted as the messengers of the legion, delivering missives between the Fegnaór or even to Artukos himself. Some even say that one can etch messages into the spines that protrude from the Senmaars' winged form, which can be launched at high speeds over relatively long distances. It is said that such spines were marked with curses and hexs as they were launched into the ranks of Artukos' enemies, throwing them into confusion. The Myrkurs represent the power and darkness of anonymity, disguising themselves as members of the Finite Races to keep the peace from within. Often, the Myrkurs would be sent by the Zilevū on covert missions to control the flow of information between the mortals. The Kipát, much like the Myrkurs and Zilevū, also dealt in deception but focused their sights on individuals rather than the whole, worming their way into the mind of one rather than many.
Other, more formidable Wraiths and Spectres would be created all throughout the first age, but the creation of these greater forms would be reserved for specific roles on the battlefield or in the palace. Artukos would not create something so majestic unecessarily, for there would be no pride in such an endeavor.
All of the warriors within Artukos' great legion of Wraiths and Spectres possessed significant combat prowess beyond their specialized purposes. They were a force to be reckoned with, an iron fist that Artukos believed could never be broken, for they controlled both the tide of battle and the tide of minds. In this way, Artukos, the creator Lord, gained a new name that he would be remembered by until the end of the eighth age: The Lord of Wraiths.
And so, the forces of the Lord of Wraiths dominated and oppressed all within the world Artukos had created, even the remaining Lordly Pantheon. In this way, the young world gained a name: the Wraith Globe. Soon enough, knowledge of the Lordly Pantheon as well as the Lords and Ladies besides Artukos would fade from the memories of mortals. All that they now knew was the tyranny of their creator.
Artukos' Inner Circle
"We are all fools, scrambling for a blooming flower that is soon to wither. I am the greatest among these, for I do not even begin the journey."
- The Philospher
The interworkings of the great palace on and within Mount Karar'at would grow more convoluted as the first age waned silently and out of sight. the title of Fegnaór would gain two more holders, although this intertwined duo would not be born from the thoughts or mind of Artukos; They would be born from the sweat and tears of Viabaas. The occassional shooting star would leap across the blank canvas above the Wraith Globe, crashing into the earth below them. Emerging from within were a select in the form of the pantheon, a form purer than that of the mortal Artukos had created from the void. For these were stars born from the tears and sweat of Viabaas laboring in some distant realm, but that is a matter we will come to shortly.
These first Lordborn were drawn to the scent of authority, for their nature compelled them to find a domain befitting of a Lord or Lady. With the influence of the rest of the Pantheon all but absent, these children of the Lord of Compassion would set their eyes on overthrowing Artukos. One by one, all of them would fail. No child of Viabaas would dethrone the tyrant creator, but one child would get close. Only I remember her true name: Agape. She would enter the palace in the shadows, initially rejecting her call to authority and instead trying to restore compassion and family wherever she went. Her passion for art would cause a shift in the minds of many mortals within the palace, inspiring and raising up a lingering hope amidst the static and despair of the first age. However, her nature continued to nag at her mind and body until she finally gave in and attempted to spearhead an uprising within the palace. The revolt failed, but the Lord of Wraiths took notice.
Artukos saw potential in what Agape had created, not only her following but her art. After years of resisting her nature, the Lordborn's health had deteriorated, her skin becoming pale and smooth. If she did not take up a place of authority soon she would wither away, and so Artukos offered her an accord. The Wraith Lord would make Agape one of his legionnaires, giving her a taste of the lifeblood she so desperately needed. She would become Artukos' hands, sculpting creations that he saw fit. Out of desperation Agape took the deal, coming under a new name: The Dollmaker.
The Dollmaker would become the new hands with the authority to form mortal bodies, and Artukos would gift her with many tools to expedite this process. All the chisels and scalpel she would ever need were given, a mask to steady her hands and sharpen her skills was gifted to her directly from Artukos himself, and she was given a workshop, a plane isolated much like the sixteen stars upon the Wraith Lord's ring. This place would become known as the Castelet by Wraiths and Spectres through word of mouth and a number of lullabies, an urban legend that represented a way to appear in the dreams of their Lord:
You seek the halls of glass stained with color That place in which corridors bend back upon each other unto insanity You seek the eyes without eyes, eyes within eyes Hark, the organs sound as the maker’s call of death…
The Dollmaker would make the Castelet in the image that she found most pleasing: a warping labyrinth of halls made entirely from stained glass, only swirling purple cosmos beyond. From this seat of artistry she would carry out many wishes of the Lord of Wraiths, the foremost of which being the creation of the Dragonkin and the mother of all dragons, Drakorn.
When Artukos had first set forth in the creation of the Wraith Globe, small cracks in the grand design had begun to reveal themselves, and nowhere was this more evident than Onus, the primordial stanchion. This space flowed through all others, the pillar of pure elemental strife that forever pierced the center of the Wraith Globe. This was the place from which he drew most of his creation, although Onus had already been laying dormant even before Artukos began the creation of the Wraith Globe. It's potency was far greater than anything he created.
The weight of such strife upon the world was causing cracks in the very fabric of the Wraith Globe that would begin to grow into pure elemental chaos. In order to bear this weight, the Wraith Lord tasked the Dollmaker with knitting together a new mortal form, one strong enough both in body and resolve to carry the weight of Onus. The result was Drakorn, the grand archwyrm that would become the mother of all Dragonkin. Along with the creation of Drakorn, Artukos helped the Dollmaker mightily in the construction of a crucible to contain and Condense Onus, and thus the Elemental Crucible was born, created from solid gold, infused with fumes from Artukos' laboratory below, and carved with the first alphabet of the language of the Dragonkin.
The crucible was set deep within Mount Karar'at, below even the Well of Souls, and underneath its unbearable weight was placed Drakorn, Dragonkin's sole purpose to hold up the cosmic weight of this world's elemental foundations.
After the seeming success of the Dragonkin, the Dollmaker fell into a sudden and deep depression. Her skilled hands had proved useful to the Lord of Wraiths, but this caused doubts in her pivotal choice to resurface, to bring her spirit low. From this the second persona of the Dollmaker was born: the maskless mind, the Philospher. The Philospher would see the stain that Artukos had left on his mortal creation, he would see the hopelessness of it all, and ultimately Artukos would share the truth of his deepest sleep with the Philospher in private. This truth would break the Philospher, who had at that time become the seventh and final Fegnaór. His mind broken, he would lead a simple life until the end of the first age, when he would kill himself and leave the artist beside him alone to wander the world, a shade of her former self.
The five Fegnaór legionnaires within the spires, the original brainchildren of Artukos, would continue to vie for power over one another. These are the scars that the five legionnaires of Artukos left upon the first age:
The Fegnaór of lust, Lorintus, would become a manipulator of countless mortals within the palace, raising up commanders of lust besides himself known as the Lechers of Lorintus. For escape from the work and toil the mortals knew so well, Lorintus asked for full reign over their bodies, dooming them to far more toilsome days of pain and pleasure intermingled into the Fegnaór and his lechers had either taken a liking to a particular mortal or grown bored of them. For the former a life of twisted luxury awaited them, but for the latter a fate worse than death was in store. For all those that he grew bored of, Lorintus would dispose of them into the billowings of void within the mountain. Warped and twisted by their time with the lechers, these poor souls often lost limbs, which regrew as spined wings and jagged claws. These harpies of the void remained there until the fall of Artukos, only able to experience the endless torment placed on them.
The Fegnaór of greed, Lacomix, would strike up countless deals and barterings among the mortals in the palace, both wanted and unwanted. Often discussing himself as shopkeeps in the upper layers of the palace, Lacomix would swindle the mortals who had managed to work their way into the semblance of a pleasant life, taking their goods for his own and hoarding them in his spire, a chamber made from solid gold. During these excursions out of his dominion Lacomix would take the form of countless worms undulating in a vaguely humanoid form underneath a long sapphire cloak, allowing him to disperse into any crack or crevice he pleased.
The Fegnaór of wrath, Aanira, would act as the fist behind the expansive legions of the Wraith Lord. Reveling in pain and bloodshed of her enemies, allies, and even herself, Aanira uses shards of steel puncturing her skin as jagged armor across her body, earning her the title "The Champion of the Jagged Mask." Having mastery over three weapons she has on her person at all times: a lumbering greatsword forged from singed steel, a greatbow strung with self-mending demon's thread, and a hooked halberd to pull in easy prey, her devotion to war has caused her to sever the pinky and ring finger or her bowstring-pulling hand, cementing her love for violence above all else.
The Fegnaór of envy, Invido, was the lowest of the five legionnaires before the clouded fronts of the Lords' Rebellion began to wane in the Pantheon's favor, allowing them to topple Aanira. Invido above all else envied the beauty, power, and knowledge of Artukos himself, and so he wormed his way into his creator's studies within the secluded laboratory beneath the mountain. Through this he gained a great gift shrouded in the fumes, a pair of prismatic wings that would allow him to learn magics before they had fully come into the world.
The Fegnaór of pride, Mândri, was entrusted by Artukos as his leaser counterpart of pride to guard and watch the upper reaches of the palace with a great hanging ivory blade carved by the Wraith Lord himself. During the final siege of the first age this great sword towering at nearly 100 feet long would cleave through anything that dared to enter the upper reaches of the palace without the blessing of the Wraith Lord himself. Mândri would also have dealing in the upper city, although these dealing were nothing like those of Lacomix. Instead, Mândri would form a devout group of followers known as the Prideful Few, marked with the clutch of an ivory ring depicting a salamander.
With the help of his closest legionnaires and leaders, Artukos would create an iron fist clenched tightly around the confines of his palace, the wills of the mortals inside, and the reaches of the land outside.
The Lords' Rebellion
"Viabaas is the embodiment of justice, goodness, and light. He is the Lord of Lords, the savior of the Finite Races, and the liberator of the entire Wraith Globe. Without the influence of Viabaas, I would be afraid to see our world."
- Jac Sorras, Cleric of Viabaas
After far too much time of this tyrannical dominion, Viabaas gathered up all his knowledge and connections to end this cruel abuse of the infant Wraith Globe. He gathered the Lords and Ladies of the Lordly Pantheon together, hoping to gain their power and influence for his master plan. Many of them had now adopted a domain within the world, whether that would be light or dark, nature or technology, war or peace. In the end, each and every one of the gods had a singular and united purpose: to provide balance to the Wraith Globe and to finally end the overtaking of too many poor wills to count. All of the pantheon elected Viabaas, now the High Lord of Angels, to be their leader in this rebellion against the Wraith Lord, as he was the one who first purposed this dangerous path forward.
However, Viabaas had already begun to devise a plan to finally free the pantheon, as well as the Finite Races. A few of the pantheon had bravely ventured beyond the boundaries of their void within the multiverse and had found other worlds waiting for them: the Far Realm. Through divining unknown, Viabaas had learned of a forge unlike anything within the Wraith Globe. This bubbling crater was the remains of a fallen behemoth, one of the great leviathans floating among the twisted stars of that distant realm. The blistering heat is the remnant of the internal biology of the colossus, and the cinder and ashes that billow through the thick air are not ordinary; Palpable magic emanates from the massive corpse. Viabaas believed that if a powerful weapon were to be forged in this great foundry, it would be something unlike even what Artukos could conjure with his power of creation.
Viabaas gathered the Pantheon together one last time before he left for the Far Realm, wishing them the best in the coming crusade:
"After watching the mortals Artukos created for long enough, they have a hope that I admire. It gives me a solemn wish that the life force of Artukos has benevolence, but even those who are closest to each other must sometimes show compassion by letting the other go. I now head to the space beyond our world, an unknown frontier. I wish you all strength and bravery during the coming rebellion, and I ask that you await my arrival, for I believe it will define the final combat of our great uprising. I promise you, above all else, that I will return with something capable of ending the tyranny for countless revolutions. Now go, and fight with the strength of the Pantheon!"
And so the Lord of Compassion ventured to the edge of the Wraith Globe, a swirling wall of twisted starlight. Viabaas cautiously yet courageously stepped across the boundary, and his mind warped in on itself. He saw his mind warped into a collection of pale white starlight and his body covered in a sea of frozen ethereal tears. However, the wisdom of those in the Pantheon is great, and so the transition between realms is baffling but manageable. This place would become the gate by which the Lordly pantheon used to travel between these realms, and so it would become known as Schimbaru, which translates to the Gateway of the Creation in the tongue of the Pantheon.
These two realms have systems of logic that are fundamentally unique, such that the planes of that distant world are like the stars in the Wraith Globe's sky, such as with the legendary Starlit Lantern of Atheron the Keeper. A curious thought I have had during my long exile: what would occur if the Lantern were to be brought within the boundaries of the Wraith Globe? Would the stars expand into an amalgamation of planes, or would their state remain the same? If only it were a hypothesis that could still be tested, but that time has sadly passed.
During his bizarre adventure through the Far Realm, Viabaas saw many things that even he could not comprehend. However, he also encountered a figure that prove to become vital in the future of the Wraith Globe: Volthunae, the Unending Maw, a towering goat-like creature made completely from swirling shadows. Contrary to his appearance and domain, Volthunae proved to be a friendly figure, recognizing Viabaas' power at first sight and asking him what he was seeking. Viabaas answered, and Volthunae warned the Lord of the great heat and intense influence of the Inceendiar Foundry, which was this realm's name for the place which Viabaas seeked. The Lord of Angels thanked him for his concern, but his resolve was absolute. He continued his journey to the foundry, but Volthunae would remember this brief encounter. When Viabaas reached the Inceendiar Foundry, the heat was beyond anything Viabaas had felt before, but he would not turn back now. He began to purify the steel of the Wraith Globe, and so the forging of Daemor, the Great Wraith Slayer, began.
The forging of such an otherworldly artifact would take almost two rotations to complete, and the Lords' Rebellion would progress slowly during that time. The Wraith and Spectre legions of Artukos were spread densely through all of the planes of the Wraith Globe, but the power of the Lordly Pantheon combined caused a mighty reckoning. One by one, the Lords and Ladies of the Pantheon claimed dominion over the planes. However, the great palace of Artukos was a citadel that could never be breached, even with the combined strength of the entire pantheon. With this threat to his sovereign rule, Artukos began to strengthen his legion with the fruit of his arcane laboratory and his three great tomes, leveling the playing field between these two mighty forces. Nonetheless, there was about to be a turn of fate within the conflict...
The Duel of Karar'at's Crown
"The divine flames housed within Aurindus, the Great Arcane Flare, will burn you to a crisp with a nuclear furnace straight from the Incendiaar Foundry! There is no hope of survival!"
- Tiktalak, Great Being of Nuclear Flame
The legendary forging of Daemor, the Wraith Slayer, was a task that would have consequences, both beneficial and harmful. Hammer blow after hammer blow, the weapon slowly took its shape as a great glaive, stretching nearly 14 feet long. Made from the purest adamantine of both the Wraith Globe and the Far Realm, Viabaas had poured all of himself into this creation, even part of his life force. As a result of this, Daemor began to gain a sentience of its own, taking on the fragments of the colossus' mind left behind. Viabaas himself also changed, not only in form but also in mind. The influence of the colossus Daemor remained great, even long after its death, and so Viabaas inherited some of its starlight. His mind was strengthened, but his resolve and domain remained.
As Viabaas strained and toiled, sweat and tears ran down his body, forming the first of the Lordborn. Some would remain in the Far Realm and die off, withering a place contrary to their own nature. However, others like Agape would fall as stars back to the surface of the Wraith Globe, futily trying to take authroity from Artukos, a precursor to Viabaas' coming grapple with the Wraith Lord.
However, not all life born from the Forging of Daemor was that of Lordborn. The great brimstone that flew off of Daemor strike after strike began to coalesce into a conscious form, a newly-born Great Being of the Far Realm. This was Tiktalak, the Great Being of Nuclear Flame. She was the flame of Inceendiar incarnate, born from the heart of the colossus Daemor itself. Tiktalak conversed with Viabaas, completely aware of the nature of Daemor and of its sole purpose to slay the Wraith Lord. In the end, Tiktalak would choose to leave her birthplace of the Far Realm, but only once she would receive her greatest tool as a gift from the old Order of the Art: Aurindus, the Great Arcane Flame.
After nearly two years, Daemor was finally complete. With great conviction and renewed vigor, Viabaas rushed back into his home realm of the Wraith Globe and reconvened with the rest of the Lordly Pantheon. Many were surprised by how much Viabaas, a High Lord, had changed, but it was clear that this was the strength needed to finally overrun the palace of Artukos’ perched upon Mount Karar’at. One final assault was planned by the Pantheon and the few members of the Finite Races who had escaped the cruelty of Artukos: a combat to trump even the power of the Creator Lord and his vast legions.
The Lordly Pantheon and the mortal forces of the rebellion would serve as a distraction while Viabaas snuck into the utmost heights of the palace to face Artukos in one final duel.
In a great offensive, Sadao, the Lord of Combat and Battle Strategy, led the charge for the cataclysmic conflict. The force of Artukos' legions was that of a razor's edge, for their method was brutal yet surgical. All of the Fegnaór but the Philsopher led the charge, but Sadao had other prey in mind: Koudoúni, the Bell Keeper of Karar'at. With swift agility, the Lord of Combat cut down all foes in his wake with his towering curved sword and climbed gracefully to the peak of the Citadel of Wraiths, where the great child of Artukos stood watch. However, the hideous guardian was already engaged with a group of mortal exiles at the end of their inevitable trial, and so Sadao was struck by curiosity and observed the encounter unseen.
With unexpected prowess, the mortal company brought the wrathful beast to its knees, but Koudoúni had a well of strength that even it was not aware of before that very moment. It crumpled to one knee, its form tense and its breathing heavy, but in a voice never used, it uttered words brimming with mortality and hope:
"I am not the bell… I am not the bell… I do not belong to the bell, for I AM THE KEEPER OF THE BELL. Thank you for helping me realize the truth: I AM HEIR TO THE CREATOR LORD, THE SON OF ARTUKOS! I destroy you, not for others, BUT FOR MYSELF! I shall tear you until your very souls wish for an end to the torment! I will finish this, or all of the blood shall drain from my body. Now, FACE ME LIKE THE CHOSEN YOU ARE!"
In one swift movement, Koudoúni ripped his own spine from his twisted body and hung the goliath bell at one end, using the string of bone and brass as a devastating flail. For the first time in many rotations, the Cathedral of Wraiths resounded with the clang of the bell as it was smashed violently around the battlefield, crushing anything or anyone in its wake. With this new development Sadao would no longer simply observe out of curiosity although he knew that this brave group of heroes were strong enough to face such a powerful foe. For this purpose he would send his great hawk to survey the battlefield and aid the mortals. Ultimately, just as the Lord of the Duel had predicted, the resolve of the mortal fighters did not waver, and they just managed to overcome the willpower of Koudoúni. He could finally rest having regained a semblance of his humanity. With that, they rang the great bell of the cathedral, and the resonating chime resounded loudly throughout the Material Plane, a symbol that the rulership of Artukos was at its end.
Just as the Lord of Compassion had planned, the legions of Artukos were misdirected and distracted, and so he took his chance, ascending to the peak of Mount Karar'at with Daemor in hand. From this pinnacle, Artukos was able to survey the entire siege at once, but the crown of the mountain would turn out to be the perfect sparring ground for the two High Lords. As the bell of the cathedral sounded ominously in the distance, Artukos was at his most distracted and distraught. The Lord of Angels could have easily dealt a powerful blow to the back of the Wraith Lord; However, Viabaas did not take advantage of his stealth. Rather, he said one thing to Artukos, words that would define both of them throughout all of the eight ages:
"This is not pride, but weakness. I know you will reclaim your domain with time."
With a chuckle filled with self-certainty and utter depravity, Artukos turned, raised his towering greatsword the Crimson Thread, and the Duel of Karar'at's Crown began in a flash of Lordly might.
The duel lasted three days and three nights, during which neither Artukos nor Viabaas could gain the upper hand on the other. Dancing and dodging around and around the massive monument in the Creator Lord's image, Artukos believed himself to be the stronger of the two beings, and so he put off calling for any form of reinforcements from his legions, which were currently defending the lower levels of the Wraith Lord's palace. Even with the newfound vigor which Viabaas had gained during his time spent within the distant Colossus Daemor, he was struggling to keep his footing against such a terrible opponent. Artukos attacked with seemingly infinite ferocity, carrying his blade with both momentum and willpower. The Lord of Pride was a treacherous and deceptive opponent, wearing a cloak wreathed in cinder and blood which he would swing about himself to smother and mesmerize his enemies. Slash after lunge, neither Lord was touched by the blade of the other; However, the wisdom of Daemor was all but unknown to Artukos. Daemor, infused with a fragment of the behemoth's mind it was forged in, was slowly beginning to understand the nature of his own opponent: the blade of Artukos, the Crimson Thread.
The Crimson Thread was an artifact of pure insanity. Created from the agony of the mortal races made carnate, the sword was devilishly skilled at finding the most painful chinks in an opponent's defense and guiding its own blade toward them. However, the blade had no mind, and so Daemor was able to exploit its wielder's predictability. On the third day, with one great slash, Daemor brought itself down across the grain of the hulking sword, severing its blood-red blade in two, scattering its fragments across the mountainside. Artukos crumpled to his knees as the sword fell from his hands, knowing in a single thought that he had lost. He looked up at Viabaas with vicious and defiant eyes, but his gaze was only returned by the gentle yet determined expression of the Angel Lord. Viabaas lowered himself to his knees, embraced Artukos, and drove the head of Daemor, the Great Wraith Slayer, straight through the heart of Artukos. And so the first of the Lordly Pantheon fell, and the tyrant of the first age was finally defeated.
The Freedom of the Finite Races
"Ah, the Union of the Finite Races under the banner of Artukos' death. If only it had lasted. If only we had not kept a piece of the Wraith Lord inside of us."
- Vaha Sydän, the Final Torchbearer
The Fegnaór along with the Wraith and Spectre legions, knowing that their master had been slain, retreated to those sixteen planes that were kept inside Artukos' starry ring. The Lords' Rebellion was finally at its end, and the Finite Races along with the Lordly Pantheon were finally free. Viabaas, the Lord of Angels and now the new leader of the Lordly Pantheon, descended from Karar'at's Crown with his great glaive Daemor raised high above his head. With their minds now freed from the influences of the Will of Artukos, the Finite Races felt a great presence emanating from outside the depths of Artukos' palace, one like nothing they had ever felt before. Free from resistance, the mortals stepped out of the great gate of the palace and beheld their savior, their Lord of Lords, descending from the peak of the mountain they had learned to call home.
The bravest of the mortals conversed with the pantheon face to face and reunited with those who had already been freed, thanking them greatly for their efforts. Viabaas was contented with the nature of the mortal peoples, and so he told them to explore this great globe that Artukos had created and to learn to call it their own. Furthermore, he reassured the Finite Races that the Lordly Pantheon would remain to keep the Wraith Globe a place of order and sanctuary. Viabaas then produced the starry ring that he had plucked from the Wraith Lords' cold whispering fingers and threw it towards the sky, where it became Viabaas's Ring, the lone constellation in the previously empty pale grey skies. The sky radiated with a sapphire blue, and it remained that way until the end of all ages.
Pleased with their work, the Lordly Pantheon dispersed to set order to the outer sixteen planes, which now lay between the Phase Lands and the realms beyond. However, with time, Viabaas would position his most trusted followers among the mortals to guard the Wraith Lord's arcane laboratory and countless trinkets, for he knew that they were devastating yet sturdy artifacts of uncertainty. He would need time to learn how to destroy them properly and without great consequences.
Eden, the Angel's Blade, the first mortal to join the Pantheon's uprising, would be sent to guard the entrance to the labyrinthine laboratory deep below. There she would find many things of magic and of the soul, but they would not be revealed to the outside world until the Lords' Hammerblow.
Ishmael, the Angel's Shield, would act as the bastion guarding the 3 tomes of the Wraith Lord, hidden depth within the Palace of Artukos. However, the corruption of the tomes would prove to be greater than Viabaas' expectations.
Marba, the Angel's Bow, would safely keep the Gateway of the Creation from those who might aim to misuse it, but the Lord of Chaos would prove to have different plans for the highway to the Far Realm. The bow would break under the stress of the second of the linked life force.
With their newly-won freedom, the Finite Races set up temporary camps across the surface Mount Karar'at. Nonetheless, many wished to build their own settlement, for they did not wish to reside in the palace in which so many had perished. They scavenged what they could from Artukos' palace, but this period of time brought about the popularity of Wuruk, known as the meal of the traveler in the common tongue. Composed of a stone-viper steak and a few green leaves sprinkled with rosemary, it was a somewhat balanced, easily created, and a readily available meal within the twisted desolation surrounding Mount Karar'at. With collaboration, the Finite Races were finally set on a path toward advancement.
However, not all of the Finite Races were lucky enough to receive such compassion and accommodation from their Lord of Lords. The Yuan-Ti slave masters of Artukos along with a few of the mortal warriors within Artukos' legions had barely escaped the devastation of the Lordly Pantheon, for they had chosen to side with Artukos rather than Viabaas. They fled to the darkest corners of the palace, inadvertently traveling to the depths of the Shadowfell, the dying reflection of the Wraith Globe. These exile peoples wouldnot to be seen again in the world at large for many years.
The first leader of the Finite Races, whose name has now been lost to time, led the mortal peoples forward into an era of exploration, one that would allow them to finally explore the expansive creation of the late Artukos. This mythic hero of Viabaas would breed a legacy that would continue to live on until the end of the world. A half-Orc by birth, this man had been ridiculed his entire life under the rule of Artukos, despised by his comrades and counterparts. Nonetheless, he took solace in values and code, that which would never be swayed, no matter what hardships came. Although quiet among those who deemed him inferior to themselves, the hero's heart was strong, and so he persevered through the ranks of the legion not only for his own survival in that all-encompassing hell, but also for the hope of gaining the power to help every mortal: the downtrodden of the world. On a battlefield that would ultimately be forgotten, he saw a gleaming figure of silver floating above the chaos of war, wielding a massive glaive. For a moment, their eyes met, and Viabaas saw a reflection of his own domain: a visage of pure care, honor, and respect. This mortal would ascend to the status of Lordborn, a mortal incarnation of Viabaas' honor and compassion. The moments before Viabaas ascended the crimson towers of Karar'at Crown, the Lord of Angels would find this mortal and tell him what he was destined to become: the mortal equivalent of Viabaas, the uniter of the Mortal Races as one. This figurehead of the Finite races would frontier a new age: an age of exploration and unity.
Nonetheless, with exploration would also come the uncovering of some twisted secrets of the world, knowledge that introduced a potential for disaster and downfall.
Another Path Forward - The Age of the Dark Halo
"I do not expect you to join me, but I expect you to at least see me as I am: not a tyrant against the people, but a martyr against fate itself."
- Artukos, Grand Lord of Wraiths, Spectres, and Pride
Although unlikely, perhaps one of the first Lordborn of Viabaas survived, much like Agape, vying for Artukos' throne. Perhaps one of the scribes of Sea Haerus of the plane Certitude heard out their advesary, the growing limbo spreading across the tranquility of their home star. Perhaps the young and influential leader of a crime syndicate in the lower palace became a trusted monster hunter of the upper echelon, falling from grace when their glassy eyes of influence were stolen from them. Perhaps a sapphire Kobold, born from the sweat and toil of their elder Dragonkin at seeing their people crushed underneath the weight of the Elemental Crucible, would take up a sharpened scale as a sword and climb to reclaim their wings and their honor.
This is the story of the Cerulean Sparks, a group of unlikely and at times uneasy companions that would topple the inner circle of Artukos and spin the Wraith Globe on a new and uncertain axis.
Growing from humble origins, each of these individuals would find themselves at the start of the Trial of the Disobedient within the Well of Creation, near to the end of the first age and the beginning of the siege of Artukos’ palace. Slowly clawing their way out of the trial, they would catch the attention of the Dollmaker herself, eventually reaching the foundation of the Elemental Crucible and ascending to the domain of the Dollmaker. After a heated combat the group of outcasts, now known as the Cerulean Sparks, would prevail against the Fegnaór and reach the central layers of the palace.
Gaining renown among the freedom fighters of the city, the Cerulean Sparks would break down the defenses of the Will of Artukos, even bringing the ivory blade of Mândri low. With this, the Cerulean Sparks would learn of what Artukos had seen in his deepest sleep, and against all odds would choose to form a sudden and uneasy alliance with the Lord of Pride.
This alliance would involve the betrayal of not only the allies they had gained along their journey, but also the betrayal of Viabaas himself at Karar’at’s crown. Artukos even promised his own death to the Cerulean Sparks, but only after his ultimate goal was achieved, his true intention to set the Wraith Globe on an unlikely course he had seen within his dream. The Cerulean Sparks had a few of their own terms, but ultimately obliged.
Ascending through the upper layers of the palace upon Karar’at, The Cerulean sparks dethroned and beheaded each of the five Fegnaór legionnaires one by one, the Kobold devouring their minds to gain a form with strength rivaling that of Drakorn herself. Upon reaching the pinnacle of Mount Karar’at, Viabaas learned of these mortals’ sudden betrayal and was defeated, losing all hope and abdicating his domain of Compassion, Angels, and Family, disappearing to unknown fate.
The mechanical masterwork of Artukos, a gold mechanism resembling that of a sundial within the towering statue of the Wraith Lord, began to whirr to life, activated by the blood of its creator. Artukos and Cerulean Sparks ascended to a shrouded sanctuary hidden in the clouds above, an observatory of an unfathomable being wearing sheep’s clothing. With great effort and the shattering of Artukos’ ring of stars this cosmic being was slain, altering the future of the Wraith Globe irrevocably.
Descending from this fateful Conflict, Artukos would kill himself upon the peak of Karar’at, the broken blade of the Crimson Thread buried there. The Cerulean Sparks would go on to shape the essence of the coming age.
Asherah Nepsis, Chaoswalker of Limbo, returned to her home plane of Certitude to dethrone the late king of Certitude, setting into order the consumption of the tranquility of Certitude by the growing chaos on its borders. From this the plane of Limbo would be born, the waterborne cities of the Sea Haerus resting upon the surface of this chaotic sea. At the center of Limbo, the capital of the Sea Haerus would become a planar port, a central hub for interplanar travel. Asherah herself would graft herself into the collective hivemind of Limbo while maintaining her individuality, tying her lifeforce and health to that of the plane of chaos.
Tyrannis Siderum, the survivor Lordborn of Viabaas, had taken both the domains of Viabaas and Artukos, forming the new domain of Leadership. Taking advantage of the time of change within Artukos’ late palace, she formed the House of the Blue Hand, a religious and technological group that would bring order to the palace but maintain the freedom of the mortal races. In this endeavor Tyrannis would take counsel with the rest of the Lordly Pantheon for the first time, telling them the truth of what her and the other Cerulean Sparks had done regarding Artukos and Viabaas. With Tyrannis’s overwhelming wit and a bit of support from Akina, the Higher Lady of Secrets and Doors, Ranni would become the new honorary leader of the Pantheon just as Viabaas had been before her. The Mortal Races would spread out from the mountain and populate the expanses of the Wraith Globe, but the central city on Karar’at would remain prosperous, which Tyrannis would rename to Stellatara. The House of the Blue Hand would become a place of innovation, catapulting the Wraith Globe into an age of steam power.
Asherah Nepsis and Tyrannis Siderum would be married to one another shortly after, forming a union between the new Lady of Leadership and the Chaoswalker of Limbo. All were invited, much feasting was had, and the success of the Cerulean Sparks was celebrated once more.
Cobold of the Dragonkin would awake from their long slumber to a strange and new sensation: perception from 6 different heads. As the newly birthed Erṣetu with six metallic heads of gold, silver, bronze, copper, brass, and adamantine, they would descend to the resting place of their kin underneath the Elemental Crucible. With the help of the Chaoswalker, Dragonkin would ascend to the ring of stars in the sky and gently pour Onus into the sea of Limbo, setting Dragonkin as the Onus’ new guardians. to go and serve Ranni in the House of the Blue Hand, and for the remainder to enter the elemental planes and guard them fiercely.
The bearer of the Dollmaker’s Glassy Eyes, the hunter of monstrosities, would take up the Voidwarden sigil and guard the boundaries of the Wraith Globe, hoping to stop an unknown and inevitable cataclysm. Although, even with research aided by that of Volthunae, Atheron, and other great beings of the Far Realm, a lasting solution would not be found, and the Age of the Dark Halo would remain an age of uncertainty.
Finally, as an ultimate testament to the party’s legacy, an artificial constellation would be put into the sky above the Wraith Globe, standing proudly next to its bigger sibling, the Cerulean Ring. The Cerulean Sparks, five grand stars shining proudly outside the reaches of the ring, would forever commemorate how four lowly mortals, abandoned and discarded, as well as one that was found along the way, would journey to the heights of the world itself and spin the Wraith Globe upon a new, more hopeful axis.
However, the five stars of the Cerulean Sparks held a dark secret, for they were not just stars, but eggs. Eggs ready to hatch powerful yet twisted angelic guardians of the House of the Blue Hand. All that was needed was the sounding of great horns repurposed from the golden machinations of the Wraith Lord’s monument: One kept on Tyrannis’ own person, and the four others spread throughout the most prosperous cities under the control of the House of the Blue Hand. Perhaps the influence of the tyrants was not yet in its grave…
