Base Form:
Myrtu can be perceived as a towering equine being, with a singular crystaline horn, and wings created out of the light of rainbows, stylized as feathers. Their glossy coat of fur is not simply white- they are every color all at once. Blindingly bright during the day so as to appear white, yet reflecting the light in a pearlescent sheen, with hues that shift through the rainbow, as the light hits their hide in differing angles; yet, deep and black as the darkness itself at night, reflecting the moonlight in a dazzling iridescent display that glitters as rainbow starlight.


Aspect: F R E E D O M
"Wild and free! To choose, to roam, to explore, to do as the will doth guide thee!"
They are the instinct to break the cage, the chaos contained in the whim, a desire to break the rules, the inspiration drawn from a freefall. She is the darkened impulse that drives one to kill at random- he is the instinct of the opportunistic thief- they are the desire of the slave to break their chains. This is the essence of true free will- to choose death in combat or death at the edge of a cliff. He is the freedom of the wanderer, she is the freedom found in the strict code of the hermit, they are the freedom of birdsong changing melody in the wind. Freedom found in the strict order of the universe- freedom in the wildness of the universal chaos.
Freedom to do as the heart desires, to see a task through to the end, and to grab hold of fate itself!
OR NOT.
For that is the true heart of freedom!

Persona:
To be free, one must be creative and passionate, yet willing to put in hard work and effort, but not so serious that the joy of being free is overlooked! He can be all of these things, in such a dizzying display of inconsistent attitude, it can be frustrating for others to deal with. From one moment, willing to plod along and put in determined effort, to deciding perhaps a RUN or FLIGHT is more freeing in the next, to being cold and aloof as the impulses of violence turn her brutal- they are a difficult to summarize and even more difficult to understand. One thing is certain though: freedom can be incredibly selfish.

Myth:


Musical Theme:

Base Form: From holy ground, the very place where the energies of creation first swelled in the crowning of the world's birth, sprouts a sickly tree. Its trunk, knotted and gnarled, holds aloft a vast canopy devoid of green. Naked branches weeping a dark crimson sap entwine and interweave such that light reaches the stained ground below stifled and suffocated until it is but an echo of twilight even at the height of day. Though it seems in the throes of grisly death the tree yet stands taller than many a mountain. Such is its scale that a hundred men could not link arms around its base, even perched atop and the vast roots that rise to meet it like a hillside of their own.

Among mortals, in the fullness of time, it will be known as the Mother of Magic.

Aspect: It is said that when Anath Homura created the world she began with the first four elements, Earth, Fire, Water, and Air. What is forgotten by mortal and divine alike is that there was yet another. For there can be no great creation without energy, whether it stems from the power of the divine or the rumbling of titans, and energy endures even after it has seen its usefulness come and go. The Mother of Magic stands atop the very site where the afterglow of creation is most keenly felt, and not without reason. It is that energy, the residue of creation itself, that makes Magic.

In the world's construction there came an ocean of it. Elemental power, magic. Forever attuned to that which it helped bring into being, constrained by its last true purpose. Yet, not untappable. The Mother of Magic, born amidst the creation of the world as a living outlet of surplus potential, the waste product of a new reality, acts as the will of those energies which are shed by all the divine.

Though others may tap into such power there can be no question that it is the Mother which most seeks to see it used and embraced, for good or ill. The vast old tree, capable of comprehending the magic that radiates from divinity and flows through the world, holds within it many gifts for the mortal peoples of the world. Ways to see the world as it does, in magic, and ways to harness that power regardless of its source.

The Mother is ever crafting new magics, ones that use the very elemental energies the Great Tree thrives on, and ones that utilize the rarer powers of the pantheon itself. Though mortal mages cannot truly understand what goes into the construction of new magics they show no feebleness in their use once taught, and indeed many a mage have used the Great Tree’s magics in ways and to ends the Mother could not have anticipated when it created them.

Persona: ((General moral alignment, ambitions, personality traits, etc.))

Myth: ((OPTIONAL; Share a scene from what you imagine the myth of your god to be. Maybe it’s a story of one time the god performed a miracle, maybe it’s an old hermit sharing some scripture on the god’s wisdom, or maybe it’s a scene of the god doing something godly.))

Musical Theme: ((What’s their jam? Optional.))

((Lastly, remember to read the OP thoroughly!))

Jeon is an androgoenose cat-dragon-fawn-thing most often seen dressed in light flowing garbs and armed with some roguish or swashbuckling weapon like a rapier, short bow or set of knives. Her head hosts androgenosue face and sits surrounded by flowing bleach blond locks crowned in a pair of ivory white horns with bands of blue running across them at points. He has lightly tanned skin on most of his body, except his feet and heels which are the padded and clawed paws of a panther, and his dragon-like tail that ends in a fluffy fan.



To go into the great unknown, to seek out fame and fortune, to do daring deeds and overcome the odds, that is how adventurers do, and that is what makes them Jeon’s favorite kind of people. He is the patron of all who would take up arms and a coil of rope and delve into the depths of the world, of those who would go deep behind enemy lines to strike a blow or those who would take a blade to a twisted knot of intrigue and plot infesting their homeland.

If there is a band of 5ish dangerous people messing shit up, then Jeon will be right behind them cheering them on and also occasionally dangling a carrot in front of them to make sure they keep making things interesting.

Of course, what is an adventure without a bit of adversity? A boring time that’s what Jeon thinks, and so he is almost as likely to toss a box of starving crazed weasels in the way of a band of heroes as he is to toss them a sword to strike down their problems. Plus if things get just way to bland he might just set up a whole scenario for people to deal with, and what does it really matter if a few villages get burned down by goblins if someone takes them down in the end, and gets stronger as a result.


Jeon is more or less just here to have a good time. Of course his idea of a good time is a pulse racing adventure where blood is spilled and dramatic twists and turns are to be had, so there are bound to be a few casualties along the way. To this the god would shrug and say, “hey, plenty more adventures to be had in the afterlife, long as you don’t end up in hell and who cares about the rotters that end up there anyway”

Jeon is quick to laugh and almost always smiling and joking around, because for him life is all one big game. That doesn't mean he can't be serious of course, or at least that he can’t pretend to be, the god occasionally putting on a persona or four to set up some evil or other for heroes to overcome, building up some nefarious jerk with power and prestige, all so that they can be taken down in dramatic style later on.

As for the other gods, well, Jeon can never be serious with them either. They are all playing a game of the gods and it's no fun if everything’s running smoothly and predictably so he is likely to be a nuisance. He can also be an unreliable ally to those shaking things up, though they should expect him to doublecross anyone who looks to be getting too close to any kind of apocalyptic victory. The best kind of games are those that can go on forever, and the best stories have a happy ending with victorious heroes.



“It’s over baron! Release the Princess and maybe we’ll let you live!” barked a valiant knight flanked by a cleric and a mage as all three stood arrayed at the entrance to a dark and foreboding throne room that had been converted into a ritual site.

Human cultists and goblin scoundrels were scattered about the room, either gormlessly standing in the open in the cultist’s case or ducking for cover behind various overturned furnishings in the goblin’s. Behind them stood the baron in question, draped in crimson robes and holding a sacrificial knife aloft, ready to plunge into the breast of the bound princess who lay before a swirling portal which contained a hulking skullfaced apparition that was pressing a clawed hand against some kind of barrier preventing it from entering the mortal world.

“Oh it is over, but not for me you fools! With the blood of this royal maiden, the barrier between worlds shall be broken, and my grandfather shall be free at last from Aldion’s clutches. Then, together, we shall topple the throne and claim this land as our own!” The baron monologued, before raising the dagger high into the air to do the deed.

Before he could bring it down however, a stained glass window suddenly shattered to his right, and in through it came first a grappling hook that latched onto a hanging chandelier, followed swiftly by a roguish fellow came swinging in on the hook’s rope. Before anyone could react he was snatching the princess from the altar and swinging up and away, towards the safety of the rest of the band of heroes.

They in turn unleashed their fury, spellfire and smite hammering the minions while the knight raced forwards to challenge the barron head on. Blades clashed till the knight had the baron on the back foot and scored a deliberating blow.

“Gah, you might have beaten me, but I’ll have the last laugh!” he claimed, before flipping his knife and driving the sacrificial blade into his own chest.

“No!” the knight cried too late to stop him. Then the armored warrior thought for a moment and noted that “Wait, I’m pretty sure you're not a virgin so…”

The dying grin on the baron’s lips did not fade whoever, and instead he beamed as there came the sound of glass shattering, and a deep booming voice spoke out “well done” as the skull face entered the world while slow clapping thunderously.

Then all of a sudden the smoky illusion of the hulking demon vanished, and was replaced with a youthful being with long flowing hair and a pair of dragon-like horns adorning an androgenouse face, while down below a swishing tail flounced behind it as it patted forwards on pair of cat’s paws.

“you solved my demon summoning puzzle!” the being said with a light and chipper voice, while still clapping, an applause that was joined by the remaining goblins (much to the confusion of their cultist allies) although this seemed to be as much for the creature as the heroes considering the cheers it was getting.

“Thank you, thank you, you all did wonderfully. Especially you Skishnick, great work on that death trap room. Loved the blade pendulum!” it called over to one of the goblins who just moments ago had been trying to shank the wizard.

“Eyy thanks boss! Worked on that one all night I did” the female goblin in question called back, mighty chuffed to have been singled

“Wah, wait. That trap room killed Jimmy, you bastard!” the knight sputtered, raising a blade towards the creature, who tisked and raised a finger to tilt it away again.

“”Oh don’t worry about him, the Ferryman’s taken him safely up into the great adventure in the sky by now” the being said with a shrug before kicking the corpse of the baron (who had died of blood loss with a stupefied look on his face a few moments before the kick) “unlike this guy who’s going right down to Aldion where he belongs”

“How dare you! You're the one who turned my dear sweet uncle to the side of evil!” came a cry from the princess, to which the being just rolled its eyes and replied “Ha! Hardly. That guy was already going down to horny boy before I got to him. Allllll I did was tempt him with a little power and get his awfulness out into the open. Trust me, he’d have knifed you in the back before too long sweetie, but now he’s dead and your throne is safe!”

“Dozens of people are dead because of you, and you want us to thank you!? For. For orchestrating all this!?” the knight sputtered “why are you even here? Just to gloat?”

“Oh no no no, I’m here to give you your reward for completing that quest I set you off on” the being waved a hand over its face to briefly turn it to that of an old hooded man the heroes had met in the dark counter of an inn before waving the hand back and the creature’s grinning face returned. Then it pulled out from behind its back a massive ruby, one the size of a human head that caught the eye of every person in the room.

“This, to be exact, on top of everything you’ll loot from the baron and your royal reward of course” it said, holding out the gem to the Knight. The warrior, however, had gotten over his shock and decided where he stood in this situation.

“No. no no no I will not accept this blood stained prize” he said, and then silenced his party members with a raised hand.

The creature gave an elongated sigh before shrugging and saying “shame”

“Hey! Hey boss! Can I have it if they don’t want it?” Skishnick the trapper goblin shouted, reminding the heroes (and princess) that there were still a bunch of goblins and cultists in the room.

“Eh, sure why not,” the creature replied, before tossing the gem over to the goblin and turning away.

As it walked away all hell broke loose behind it, as the gem catching goblin immediately made a run for it with her prize, prompting the rogue and wizard to go chasing after it with a cry of “get her!” breaking the spell that had overtaken the room as every other goblin and cultist made either a break for it, committed to a last stand or, in a trio of goblin’s cae, making a suisidal attempt at kidnapping the princess all over again while giggling like mad

“Hmmm, maybe don't pull up the curtain so obviously in future I suppose” the creature said to itself while sauntering back to the portal, only to go “hmmm” and glance back at the knight who had tried and failed to stab it in the back.

“Tisk tisk, not very chivalrous of you Mr Knight” the creature said with playful admonishment.

“I. How! Who… What are you?!” he demanded to know, to which the creature replied “Why I’m, Jeon Du Termas of course, the prince of peril! Queen of all that is yet to be found! Patron of all who would seek out fame, glory and, most importantly, adventure! You know… Your god?”

Jeon turned, smiling despite the futile attempt by the knight to take his life, and tapped the offending blade which was engulfed in with a magical blue glow “and you, you I like, so have a little something extra from me”

“Now, I really must be off, you all weren't my only irons in the fire after all, but I do so hope we’ll get play again some time” he said, blowing the knight a kiss before turning away again and swishing his way back into the portal, leaving the mortals to clean up the mess of his little game like always.

Seele is the personification of Pride, in all its terrors and all its glories. Seele does not display Pride as wanton pettiness for insignificant slights, for to admit that someone can easily tarnish your Pride would be to showcase its fragility. She cares little for the insults of others, and frequently finds their attempts as amusing as they are pathetic. Seele takes Pride in much of her abilities and power, but more than anything, she takes Pride in her patience.

She is not an omnipotent being, this much she knows, but those who dare to boast their power or make overtures of superiority simply play into her hands- for her all-devouring Pride see's the power of others and refines it to more suitably fit a more perfect master. Many skills and powers Seele possesses seem unusual, but they are the simple result of pompous individuals attempting to eclipse her infinite Pride.

Many a mortal or less legendary being has learned the hard way of empty brags. If you boast your superior knowledge of magic, you will soon find yourself second to her. Display the capacity for a hundred bullseyes blindfolded with a bow, and she shall display to you a hundred and one. Proclaim yourself the greatest swordsman of all, and suddenly find your blade can find no purchase against her divine swordsmanship. Usurping the power of a god is no simple task, nor one lightly undertaken, but all those gods who go before the Sovereign of Pride know to tread lightly, for who would wish to risk that the ever-hungry spider might consume that as well? Logic would dictate that no God can usurp the Aspect of another without the destruction of the God in question, but a knowing smile and a veiled word is all Seele needs to feed an unfounded fear.

Seele makes no claims to omnipotence for she knows she does not need it. The universe contains everything there is to obtain, and the universe shall bring to her what she requires, for the Sovereign of Pride is all she needs to be when she needs to be. Her capacity to grow with her imperative to outstrip others comes not from her individual focus on a singular concept, but by her capacity to absorb many things and use them in unison to outmaneuver her enemies. She may not outdo a god of Swordsmanship with her own bladework, but need not do so when she has encompassed other aspects that she may overwhelm her opponent in areas of expertise in which they do not touch.

Seele is neither Good nor Evil. She's often seen as universally selfish, but in truth, she's simply whimsical. She loves and hates freely, shares and takes without regret, and can take Pride in others deeds as much as she can her own(or close to it, at least). Her initial origin was from arachnids, or so she claims, and her numberless children see their Sovereign as their one true master. She is a mother, a teacher, a terror, a calamity, a messiah, she is whatever she wishes to be. The one thing she refuses to be- is bored.

When one falls into the mud in pain and defeat, those who find the strength to look up just might find Seele standing above them, smiling down at them. For Pride is above the qualms of Good and Evil. Pride is about value, and can only find meaning when a spark of it burns in your own heart.

And Seele's favored children and chosen find their Pride as the source of strength they so often desperately need.

Personality wise, she can often surprise many who visit her. While she is capable of grandiose and extravagant mannerisms, it's not uncommon to find her remarkably reticent. Sometimes she is simply not in the mood to be overtly social with others, to the point that she could be described as quiet and soft-spoken, as well as easily distracted by other tasks. It is unclear precisely what causes these episodes of seeming social fatigue, but it is the time she is safest and most dangerous to be around. Those who are polite and respectful find her easier to talk to, but those who annoy her with rudeness or disrespect can find her fatigue translates into impatience, dismissing you from her presence or even growing violent if she begins to interpret defiance as a declaration of hostility.

But one thing is for certain in the enigmatic figure that is the Sovereign of Pride- those who are her allies find her a stalwart companion, and those who are her enemy soon find that their own Pride becomes their downfall.

Seele leaned back in her throne as she watched events unfold within her domain. Many brave, bold, foolhardy fellows had descended into the deep darkness that lied beneath the ground, all for their own reasons. Their numbers had been many once, but it was not long before their numbers had dwindled, most due to cowardice. It had been a disappointing show at first, watching their numbers rapidly shrink, none showing themselves worthy of attention. Except one.

One remained, and even as she was awash with visible terror, she did not turn around. She ventured further and further into the darkness, a lantern and a dagger all that she had to preserve herself within the caverns, tunnels, and caves that contained so many of her children. She did not stop, even as she began to see the thousands of glowing eyes in the darkness watching her, waiting, pondering.

Her gritted teeth was the preamble to her running; a foolish decision, but it was one not born of fear, but defiance. Well, perhaps a little fear based on the tears running down her face. But she ran forward.

It was a shame that there was a cliff there.

Seele watched as the young woman exited the tunnel and soon found herself in thin air, running off the edge of a cliff without even realizing it. She tumbled down the rockface, bouncing several times before landing with a sickening crunch.

Seele watched as the young woman, barely alive, began to push herself up, but quickly screamed as she fell back down- she wouldn't be going anywhere with those shattered legs. The goddess leaned forward as she watched curiously- as the girl began to crawl. Her lantern in pieces and her dagger lost, she crawled toward nowhere, but her expression...

So defiant. So consumed by willful stubbornness.

"I... won't lose. I'll... show them all."

Seele found her lips curl up at those words as the girl snarled them out. She did not know what had brought this mortal down here, what legends she was chasing- not yet.

The girl began to scream as Seele raised her hand, looking into her palm where a tiny image of the girl laid. She tugged at the girls legs, humming as she worked, listening for prayers for mercy or weakness, but as she expected, she heard none. She heard only curses of pain, the slamming of first against stone and the swiping of her hands at an 'attacker' she could not see.

Soon enough, her work was done. She watched as the woman panted, the pain gone, only exhaustion remaining. The girl opened her eyes, blinking as she now saw in the darkness as she could not before. She attempted to rise from the ground and found the task easier than she expected. Her eyes drifted down at the gift Seele had bestowed upon her- her weak and broken legs no more, replaced by the lower half of a spider, eight strong armored legs and the abdomen fitting an arachnid.

She stared only in disbelief for a moment before her eyes drifted up, for only now did Seele allow her to see- that she was standing in the palm of the goddess hand, a goddess whose perceived size dwarfed her by a magnitude beyond comprehension.

The goddess' smile broadened as she stared down at her new adherent.

"I do believe I like you. Tell me..."

Seele raised her hand to be more level with her face, her eye far larger than the half-spider girl.

"What is your name?"

Base Form: From holy ground, the very place where the energies of creation first swelled in the crowning of the world's birth, sprouts a sickly tree. Its trunk, knotted and gnarled, holds aloft a vast canopy devoid of green. Naked branches weeping dark crimson sap entwine and interweave such that what light reaches the stained soil below has been stifled and suffocated until it is but an echo of twilight even at the height of day. Though the seeming image of decay the tree stands and has stood unwavering. Taller than many a mountain and with a breadth that a hundred men could not link arms around, the giant sinks roots into the earth that define foothills of their own. Among mortals, in the fullness of time, this first tree will be known as the Mother of Magic.

Aspect: It is said that when Anath Homura created the world she began with the first four elements, Earth, Fire, Water, and Air. What is forgotten by mortal and divine alike is that there was yet another. For there can be no great creation without energy, whether it stems from the power of the divine or the rumbling of titans, and energy endures even after it has seen its usefulness come and go. The Mother of Magic stands atop the very site where the afterglow of creation is most keenly felt, and not without reason. It is that energy, the residue of creation itself, that makes Magic.

In the world's construction there came an ocean of it. Elemental power, magic. Forever attuned to that which it helped bring into being, constrained by its last true purpose. Yet, not untappable. The Mother of Magic, born amidst the creation of the world as a living outlet of surplus potential, the waste product of a new reality, acts as the will of those energies which are shed by all the divine.

Though others may tap into such power there can be no question that it is the Mother which most seeks to see it used and embraced, for good or ill. The vast old tree, capable of comprehending the magic that radiates from divinity and flows through the world, holds within it many gifts for the mortal peoples of the world. Ways to see the world as it does, in magic, and ways to harness that power regardless of its source.

The Mother is ever crafting new magics, ones that use the very elemental energies the Great Tree thrives on, and ones that utilize the rarer powers of the pantheon itself. Though mortal mages cannot truly understand what goes into the construction of new magics they show no feebleness in their use once taught, and indeed many a mage have used the Great Tree’s magics in ways and to ends the Mother could not have anticipated when it created them.

Persona: Magic suffuses the world, but like any element it streams toward stagnant pools and old places in time. It concentrates and ossifies. The Mother sees this not as a distant danger, the abstract consequence of deep time, but as an urgent and pressing concern. Perceiving itself not as the ruler or creator of magic, but as a part of it, the Great Tree views any future where magic is left fallow as one where it is excluded. Ostracized from a land it belongs to as none other than its own creator does.

It seeks, above anything, to escape that fate. While The Mother may not feel any deep attachment to, or love for, the mortal creatures of this world it does see their utility. Magic must be perturbed, bent, utilized, and so those best for such an undertaking are used for it wittingly or not. The wide canopy of the first tree drips crimson sap saturated with knowledge and like insects, mortals the world over flock to it. They drink and receive their blessing, their new sight, and then they go forth. Bees carrying the Mother’s will across the world. Agitating magic, forming the formless, and helping the Great Tree sink its roots ever deeper into the heart of the world.

In eons beyond counting the Mother wishes to remain. In times when the land itself crumbles and fractures, the Mother wishes magic to endure. However that must come to pass. Whatever must be done. Forever and always.

Base Form

Maat'eyi resembles something between a traditional angel and some incomprehensible clockwork contraption. The core of her body resembles that of a human woman, but the cylindrical helm she wears hides any emotion she might otherwise display, making her seem quite alien. Large, feathered wings stretch out from her back, but they are dwarfed by the immense device she always carries with her. Its two arms and the three concentric circles behind Maat'eyi are arrayed with gears and other moving parts, constantly turning towards some end unknown to all but the goddess herself. The truth is, it was not the angel that created the machine, but the other way around. Maat'eyi - the real Maat'eyi - is the clockwork device, while the biological parts of her are simply a creation of hers to act as a mouthpiece to the other beings of the universe and to make her seem less alien to them.

Aspect

Maat'eyi is a goddess of invention. Though she is a patron for all craftspeople, she only tentatively sponsors the majority of them. Her real passion lies with those few who have the audacity to innovate. What has been made before is drab and uninspired, but what is new is a spark that lights up the mind with ideas and motivation.

Maat'eyi is that spark. In both the metaphorical spark within the inventor's mind and the literal one that lights their forge, Maat'eyi manifests. She is in the hammers and the tongs, the documents and the diagrams. She is nights spent wide awake, dreaming and planning and drawing in your mind. She is days spent toiling away, returning home each night drenched in sweat and oil. She is hundreds upon thousands of failed prototypes, and the cries of jubilation when one finally works. Between creativity and intelligence, there is innovation. That is Maat'eyi.

Persona

Maat'eyi's personality is split between two stereotypically divergent branches. Along one branch, she wields a piercing intelligence with a disconcerting ability to deconstruct the world around her - even literally, in some cases. She has a great capacity for logic, but resultingly tends to see things only in very precise terms; not that she can't comprehend shades of grey, but that she only sees them as the exact shade that they are. Empathy does not come easily to her.

Juxtaposing that cold logic is a passion for the new and the inspired. To most, Maat'eyi might seem to have a short attention span. But the truth is simply that few things are complex or clever enough to really have her attention in the first place. In the event that something does, it might be her obsession for days or even weeks at a time before she is ready to move on. Maat'eyi is in more or less a constant cycle of searching for new ideas to occupy her, finding them, exhausting every possible idea that could branch off of them, and then moving on.

Myth

It was on a sharp winter's morning, the kind when the sun hangs low in the cloudless sky and casts its rays long and bright, that I found the Stones. Weathered though they were, and half-buried under earth and snow, there was no mistaking their design. Angles and edges such as those do not appear in nature, nor do any natural stones arrange themselves so geometrically as these had been. No, these Stones were placed by human hands, and carved with human tools. Some ancient people, their name now lost to time, made this site by their own intent.

Prior commitments called me forth, but the memory the Stones drew me back. I felt a calling from them, as though the rock itself were vibrating with energy, with a soul. I made it my life's work to learn all I could about the Stones. And so I settled down, the shack I called home for that winter and countless more not but an hour's walk from the Stones. Perhaps it would have been easier had I lived closer still, but I could not bear to settle too close to them. It would've felt... improper, somehow.

Unearthing the Stones was a task that rich and powerful men would have two or perhaps three dozen for. But I was alone, and so it took me a great length of time, longer than I wish to remember. But they were not wasted. I found inscribed upon them runes, proof of human design. A fool could've seen they held meaning, but only a sage could say what it was. Alas, I tried. Paper copies of the runes quickly swamped my small home. They became an obsession for me, more important than eating or sleeping. But nothing came of my endless endeavours. Until I saw Her.

It was in the depths of a dream when She made Herself known to me. Like the apocryphal runes, my mortal mind could barely make sense of Her form. She was in some parts human, in some bird, and but most of all She was forged of metal - metal in shapes and arrangements unlike any I have seen before or since. But they moved, as alive as the rest of Her. She spoke to me in a language I had never heard before, yet understood intrinsically, and after mere moments I was awake once again, my mind alight with inspiration.

In a fever I set out on a work the likes of which I never been able to repeat. In a cosmic sense, all made sense to me now. Angles of the sun and the stars interlocked with the phases of the moon in my mind. In those moments, I ceased to believe in a distinction between the natural and artificial. I saw that what we call natural for what it truly is: a design of beings vaster than we could ever imagine, and for whom my prior visitor had been an emissary to me. The ancient people that had made the Stones had known it, too. The method by which they had found such enlightenment was carved there upon the Stones, for those with the imagination to comprehend it.

The understanding that I reached that day took its toll on my mind. The pieces I put together that night have never quite fit right to me since. I am left with the mere memory of understanding, and I fear I shall never again possess the energy I had in those days. Yet I do not regret my choices. I wish all would see the true wonders of the cosmos as I have, even if but for a moment.

Theme

Oa’qeisskesi

The Mother of monsters
The Queen of the abyss

Form

Divine form: Oa’qeisskesi in her divine form takes the shape of a shadowy being with blood cracks resembling crevices on its skin, having four arms with blood red eyes. Its form almost resembles a lady in a dress covered in shadows. Her heart if seen or core is a black flame with a red aura, around it dancing in an erratic way. Her core aura is also one that surrounds her almost all time in her divine form, one that disappears in the darkness in the world.

Presentable form: Oa’qeisskesi when in her more presentable form is a knight, wearing a dark tattered cape with armor beautifully designed with inscriptions written in the Abyssal tongue, along with symbols that resemble the dark sun underneath. When removing her helmet, Oa’qeisskesi shows a being with red eyes, tainted pale skin with dark veins and hair that is both black and white. She has golden horns that form a crown atop her head.



The Abyss; the domain of nightmares, the kingdom of monsters, the dominion of the Dark Sun, the aspect of Oa’qeisskesi. The Abyss or the realm of Dark Sun as its heart is called, contains dark powers beyond belief. The realm is home to monsters, known as the Oeianakus - Fiendish creatures that haunt the minds of mortals, until they manifest and wreak havoc on the material world. Within its dark ocean akin to tar, swimming through it for a mortal being, will kill it instantly and its soul will be devoured, becoming fuel to make more Oeianakus or allow them to take physical form. The Abyss is known to corrupt mortals, when near they feel sick and become emotionally erratic, turning them into diabolical beings or simply servants of the Abyss. Sometimes mortals, either due to willpower or luck, are spared of its corruption and instead feeling uncontrolled heights of joy, mental madness, hatred and rage. The domain lies in darkness, illuminated only by the glows below from the dark Sun itself, dancing in its center. From outside the Abyss itself, radiates a faint illumination out of the center of the Abyss itself, like a faint light that appears once in a while. For deities, the area almost feels repulsive to the eye, when first seen but one thing is sure for all. None can see what lies within, but all can see the million white eyes that stare from the void straight to your soul.

The Dark Sun is the core of the Abyss and is found within Oa’qeisskesi, carrying within her mind and heart. The sun is separate, yet it is her, both are and not are each other, both carrying the powers of the Abyss. She is the one who gives shapes to the monsters or grants them the right to make themselves physical beyond the Abyssal sea, granting her the name Mother of Monsters and Queen of Darkness. The powers granted beyond the ability to make Oeianakus and monsters from will are many. Oa’qeisskesi commands the dark fires of the abyss, the spawn from the dark sun, the very essence of the Abyss, the form of a warm yet cold flame. It spread itself through life corrupting it and killing it but also manipulating the minds of mortals around her, she seeks the power to command the night to devour the light and to engulf the world in darkness.