In the days of old, many cultures believed the world was created by demon kind. While the majority of the world today worships the dragon gods, there are still small pockets whose prayers are directed toward the oldest gods. In dark ruins and ancient temples on the fringes of the civilized worlds, those worshipers read from decaying texts, spreading the tales of the very creation of the world itself. What follows is one such account…
Time passed in Sribinet and it did not, as is the way in the demon realm. The passage of ages was not as mortals would one day know. The
The feelings between childe and mother grew. Luln had wanted to become father. Mother, The Darkness, allowed him his wish. A second copulation happened, the screams and howls tearing the very fabric of being. Thus were the nine born during their fornication.
Braxult recognized the chain. Creator abused created. She reasoned that it was her duty to create and abuse as well. The demon of death needed life to fulfill this
With the needle and thread, Braxult strengthened her creation. It created great depressions in the ground where it crashed into this new world. She opened the vial of tears to fill them, creating Oceans and rivers.
The port of Melilsaridon had quieted now, as less merchants were willing to set sail this time of year. In summer months, it was bustling with activity. Dwarves and humans roamed the seaside inns along with other, stranger folk. Their songs were lively, their voices harsh and loud. But now there was only the song of the sea, as cold, foamy waves broke upon creaking timbers. Those few sailors that were to be found walked briskly, interested only in what meager business lay before them. Rarely did anyone wander outside of their own accord in this weather.
“Ay! Lass! What is it?”
The voice boomed from the man by the window. It sounded raspy and congested, raw and deepened from the sea air. Aglanthol hoped he was yelling to the woman at the other table, but knew it was unlikely. She sat silently, continuing to stare into the flames.
“Ay! You got an ear, yah? What is it? I got some time to murder.”
Gerund motioned to the innkeeper for two more drinks. The elf responded, albeit with a look of slight contempt. Aglanthol picked up on the exchange and placed five elnar on the table, enough to pay for what they had with some left over. The first mug had eased her spirits a bit, relaxing her. She felt more willing to listen to the sailor now. He was brash, but he did seemingly mean well.
“No, you are right. That was far from the end.