Estoil
The Dreamweaver - The Starlit Prince - Muse of the Void
To gaze upon the the nightly heavens is to gaze upon the work of the Starlit Prince. To close ones eyes upon their rest is to sit as the wondrous feast of the Dreamweaver. To find the clergy of the Muse, one need look nor further than the mother telling a child their bedtime story, or the hushed whispers of friends around a crackling campfire.
For Estoil is not a Lord of Man. Though he takes their form, he is as much a creature of the world before the Dawn as he is of the Children; primitive, untamed and unfettered. He is the half-imagined shadow on the waters of the still lake at night; the glimpse of something out of the corner of your eyes at dusk, the hammering of the heart as fear... as passion... and excitement coursed through the veins as night fell upon the young world.
From him came the First Story. And it will continue so long as there are stars and people to look upon them.
As the Dreamweaver, his tasks are many, for the Domain of Sleep is but a simple blink to enter. He steps through the dreamland like a man would walk through his home, offering guidance to those in distress, changing the Dreaming to his whim, and inspiring any who caught his eye. With the faintest gesture, he can send all but the strongest willed mortals to slumber, often preferring this method than direct combat.
Though certainly an skilled and able combatant, proving more than a match to any number of mortal opponents by himself if the situation requires with his divine weapon, Ensis, the sword constellation, flitting around his opponent like a formless shadow.
The the times of Old, Estoil would honor those of his choosing by placing their fascimile in the heavens. Theses constellations; powerful
creatures or
mighty heroes composed of celestial starstuff, still follow their creator, even after his betrayal, and will come at his call.
The Illu - Millenia before the height of the Etruscans, when Man was young and dwelled within cave and plain and forest, were the Illu. It was from their tribe that came the first story. A story that grew into fables, and then legends, and then histories.
They would prick the bud of the poppy and drink it's milk. They would slumber and dream, and the milk would show them Estoil and he would walk amongst them. He sat at their fires as the elders told the story of their people. He would watch with the children as the shadows flickered on the cave walls as the Raven stole sparks from the sun, as the Fox tricked the Wolf for his food, and as the Snake slithered its way to the Great Water. For centuries did the Illu live, and knew this world to be but a phantom. For when the harvest failed, or when the stag too elusive, in their sleep lay the lands of Bliss and Plenty. And so slowly did each new generation each dreaded the morn and saught the night, if but to gaze upon the stars and tell stories and slumber to paradise.
Time would consume them and their complacency. Tribes became kingdoms, kingdoms became empires, and the Illu fells behind in advancements from their complacency, until their numbers were pulled into the Etruscans. Though it is whispered that within certain regions there still exists Cults of the Star... groups who still drink the milk of the poppy and gaze upon the constellation above, waiting for the day the stars will aid their prince in his escape.
Demons - Despite the fanatical whispered teachings of the Illeun descendants, the Etruscans tell a different story. To the descendents of Erya's chosen there is but one truth, and they see through eyes that are not blinded by milk of the poppy.
It is said that when the War of the Dawn began, there was a Child who Served. He guarded the dreams of the mortals and saught to drive back the darkness with lights of purity. When he stepped upon the battlefield, he was joined by the heroes and creatures of old, who fought alongside Man. With the other Children, they struck blow after blow to the Demons of Old. And when the mortals shouted thanks and praise, the Prince was glad, for they were all his children.
But a Child of Shadow came to him and whispered sweet promises in his ears. Long into the night were words traded and sold, until at last the Star that had shone so brightly in the heavens Fell into the Darkness. For the Prince who thought himself a god was as human as the mortals he watched over, and within his heart of hearts there lurked desire and envy.
The mortals gave thanks and praise to the Light, but was it not He who lit the darkness? Was it not He who stood sentinel over their sleep? Did he not fill the ranks of their armies with wonders of yore, bringing the very heavens to fight so they did not? He, who stood greater than any amongst his brethren, yet was treated as their equal?
No.
With his Child of Nightmare cradled to his breast, the Prince turned on his Brethren. The heroes immortalized in the stars turned on their allies, and no man was safe behind the walls of sleep. He need not aid the Demons directly; his betrayal was more than enough.
But he would wear the Crown of Stars - And he alone would rule.
Before the Dawn, there was the Night. For how long I don’t know – how can the unborn know of time? I waited in the blackness, stirred by unknown hand, blending, changing, from man to beast, then back to man again. Never thinking of the future, nor of a past that never was, but, waiting.
Then as humankind became aware, I was born. And it was somewhere within this time of shadows and unknowing that Man first looked up at the night sky, and he gazed in wonder for the first time. Born of their need for more than food, for wanting, no, needing something to help them find their purpose. And in that cave, lit only by one flame, plants became colour, and colour became a vision, and that vision became a God – and I became that God. Borne from the wishes of the simplest of minds it was my destiny to stay, and protect.
So, at first I ruled as the Star and the Story. Invoked with blood and sweat and the chase. I followed the hunt through the forest and it was I who bent the branches to scratch and tear and cut. For without effort, what is the point of life? Without the story, what would feed the spirit? Without need, all life would die. So, their sorcerer stood in bloodied skins, and raised his hands and called my name. Then he fell to the ground and skin became fur, and feet became hooves. Blood gushed as my antlers pushed through bone and sinew to arise with a thousand tines, one for each of the moving lights within the blackness above. Stood before them I held my head proud and tall – none met my gaze, they just breathed the stench of death and the copper taint in the blood filled air. They breathed this and it filled them with the hunger, ready to face their own death in order to feed the tribe. Drums suddenly filled the silence, and the hunters danced my dance, invoking my spirit into there bodies. Giving me more life, and more power. Until, proud in full glory I screamed my name again and again, and they span around the fire, their throats calling with the guttural call of their ancestors, their triumps, their defeats, their story, telling those spirits that the tribe must live! And it must die for the tribe! Then in an instant they were gone – as the drums suddenly stopped they disappeared into the forest without a sound.
So I waited and watched and then in the shadow I heard the cries of the World. For out of the Shadow stepped a threat to Creation, and it came thrice in quick succession. So I went back into the Light and was reborn, not once, but within the hearts of millions. I picked up a sword within every hand and crossed the Walls of Sleep to protect my Children from darkness. And I screamed victory with every death on every day, caked with blood, sweat and mud. I was reborn again, and again, within each brave heart, and I choked on blood, and felt the explosion of flesh and bone, but I kept going until the threat had passed.
I've waited long enough for them all to come around. And though my siblings may plead and threaten, the stars will not fade quietly. And all will know the wonder of my dark and jeweled sky when all the world is wrapped in an eternal lullaby.
WIP
Vec
kapuchu
