Thread:JeloElducal/@comment-27480112-20190614125712/@comment-26574738-20190622071911

Lol.

In the beginning, when the Tree of Creation was planted, all things were given form. The great waters of the abyss heaved in protest, but even this bent in subjugation upon this new beginning. In the aftermath, many gods were born of this schism, many forgotten, but one of them was Nythral.

Nythral was a small deity for his kind, hiding amongst the shadows of his greater siblings, but Nythral, he knew himself and he knew the abyss. So blessed and cursed by awareness, he felt pain and loneliness, and looked beyond the depths: but the thought of the light and the shade of the tree pained him more. Existence was pain, and he would have no part of it. It would be better to not exist. It would be better for all things not to exist.

Nythral clawed his way out of the great abyss, consuming several of his brothers and sisters in the meantime, for they would rest for eons, they were of no concern to him. From there he built his kingdom of darkness, a parasite on the great tree, and with his servants, souls harnessed from the lands of rest or those subjugated under Nythral from the abyss, he took a new name, Vyzth-Norg Krath, the Eclipsor.

The Eclipsor began his war on Creation, a war that rages on to this day, conquering world after world, strengthening the Eclipsor but blinding him with his own pain. Worlds which resisted fell under heavy assault. The tree festers with pockets of chaos and travel between these worlds became only feasible by the brave, the blessed and the mad.

Many gods felt his power. The twin forces of Light and Dark, The Jester with Many faces, The Blinded One, Vortigon the God Killer all know the wrath of the Eclipsor, and perhaps one day, they too will answer his call.

It shall not be said that the King was unopposed in his conquests. Many gods and heroes among mortals struck back at the invasions of their worlds, serving under countless banners. But they fell, in time, and their ages are past, and they are as blood and dust.

The Eclipsor and his armies approach the Taproots, the centre worlds, in all his wrath, and all his hate, and all his spite. He reaches out to corrupt and consume and destroy. Even now his presence is felt. Time slips away. The Inkling Goddess is broken, Athena has fled. The heroes are gone. The Eclipsor’s servants are already here, making straight the path for his arrival.

With this arrival the Tree shall die, and all creation shall die with it.

High above, the Ones above all watch the war unfold, hovering over the depths. As they always have. They know the outcome of the war, for they are the beginning and end of all things, but they do not speak of it.