So, one of the game’s I’m running on Myth-Weavers just started, and as a sideshow to the actual game I’m writing a narrative to show the progress of the trio of gods who just managed to save a few of their people from a fallen planet. In a move somewhat reminiscent of the Biblical Account of the Tower of Babel, a number of the survivors were shunted across space and time into a new world, where they were dropped into groups of about sixty by race. Sadly, the halflings didn’t make it. This act should have burned out entirely the two gods taking part in it, and did kill all the mortals involved, but something happened….
A table of congealed cloud rested between two gods, and a small array of the most powerful mortals and immortals in the world. This clandestine meeting, representing the most power gathered in one place since the great war had begun, was shrouded by the power of the twins, each a complement and contrast to the other, and took place in an abandoned castle far behind enemy lines, so long abandoned that trees had begun to grow through the flagstones, though many were warped and twisted. The white goddess spoke first to the gathered group. “The fiends have overrun the world, my kin are almost routed entirely, and your peers are a dying breed. Our world is dying, in a word.” Her brother, a huge dwarf shaped godling darkly clad in metals and carrying an enormous scythe nodded in agreement. “We have all foreseen it, those diviners among you have seen it as well. There is but one hope for our world.”
The air in the room crackled with power as each god targeted half of those gathered and directly spoke to their mind, streaming a complex strand of images and calculations into each. Inspiration hit those gathered, as well as small bursts of anger or hope. “This spell would kill us, every one! And both of you as well, even gods are able to die. What you propose is suicide!” The outburst, from a young human, who would have spent decades gathering the power he now held in another age, held both disbelief and a note of fear that was mirrored in most of the others. Hope had long since left those present, and all wished to go out with a fight.
Both gods nodded, the brother speaking after a moment. “Yes, you will all die, and even if my sister and I were to survive, our time would be even more limited; we barely exist now with as few worshipers as we have, and many of our kin have already fallen. What we offer is a chance that some shall live, some to remember this sacrifice, and some to begin anew.” A rain of fire began outside, the land itself was beginning to resemble the hells and abyss that its conquerors had crawled out of. “We have searched far, and one greater than us guided our search. The conditions are right, this world will support a number of races, is young, and will seal itself shortly. Our people may yet be safe there.”
Several of those gathered began to nod, fey and ogres, orc shamans, human and elven wizards, and even an ancient lillend. All gathered were among the most potent channels of magic their world had seen in ages, and all tired from long years of fighting an endless enemy. The lillend spoke, a haunting voice etched with a tiredness few deities would have known. “I will support the spell. Better a few with a chance, than none at all.” Others began to voice their support, among them, finally, the young man who had initially voiced disbelief.
The goddess took them all in and nodded. “I will keep the memory of this event and our world alive, I promise you this. Our people have a fighting chance there. Thank you all for this sacrifice.” And so, over the next day, the great ritual was begun. A few groups of beings would be saved from the damned planet, not many, not even most, but a remnant. The blood of twin gods would be spilled, their power mingled with mortals and then expired in a single moment to shunt the fortunate few into a world unknown. A slender birch tree in the room twitched. The world ended as a red sun rose from the dawn.
Omega ended as home to numerous races and gods mere hours after the Migration had been completed. The world, under siege for so long by innumerable and relentless fiends, now stripped bare of all divine protection and that of its last few remaining great powers simple capitulated. Small patches of survivors were overrun as their illusory protections were stripped bare, or wards failed as their creators fell. The red sun rose over a world washed in blood. Lifeless, but for parasites not native to it, and unattended to by the gods who had crafted it.
Elsewhere among the stars, not Omega’s stars, but stars somewhere, a bright yellow sun rose above mountains topped by clouds and climbed into a young blue sky. Three figures lay sleeping, each on an entirely remarkable bed of metal, wisps of cloud or soft heather. These beds were remarkable, in that they each held a god, and had formed of their own to cushion their divine charge. Across the world, dozens of small groups of survivors roused themselves, some in forests or steppes, others in hills or fjords, others even under the face of the world.
The gods rested, dreaming the unknowable, and slowly began to awaken. Twin sister and brother woke first, confused and alarmed first at their own waking and second at this new setting. This world was not their own, neither was it their domain from what seemed not so long ago, before the war. No, this was a new world, with new laws, lands and even gods. The third roused itself, creaking up from his bed of heather and settling into the ground, roots latching through the heather to gain sustenance for itself.
The birch was the first to speak, creaking grumpily after having straightened itself out, with a slow earth drawl. “So thats what you two have been up to this whole time is it? World going to ruin and you pack up to leave, where have you even taken us too anyway?” Tegid, god of trickery and death, for that was the true identity of the birch, loomed over the other two gods as he spoke.
Lampros, goddess of air and beauty, stared back glacially and gathered her hair behind her as she replied, “Would that you had come to us to aid, rather than creep about as you always do, we might have spared some few more of our mortals. We have been carried along with those we were able to save to a new world, Genesis. Saiwn and I both thought our pure essence forfeit in this gambit, yet your strength added merely left us drained. Even you are diminished here, with none of your dead to rely on.”
Tegid arched an almond eye and mossy brow at the accusation. The dwarf god, skin bronzed by the sun and forge, beard as black iron and eyes burning coal and far beneath both of his kin, reached under his cloak and withdrew a great scythe, a scowl on his face. “My sister convinced even I to commit to this sacrifice, but I am glad of your contribution, forced though it may have been, if not for your presence. Our people are here on this world, a mere fraction of them true, but a fraction nonetheless. We must guide them as best we are able now, lest we become as wraiths, forgotten and lifeless.”
The lone goddess smiled with a nod. “Of our many races, only six now have been preserved. I would put forward that each of us tend to two apiece, shaping them as we will and aiding them in this new world. I can already sense other races native here, and even other gods beginning to take notice. We are weak yet, with few followers and limited resources. Our efforts must be combined that we all might live.”
Saiwn nodded slowly at his sister’s words. “Aye, there be wisdom in the faerie’s words.” Lampros shot a glare at his familiar term, but let him continue. “I will take custody of the dwarves and ogres, they both know to respect the earth and might benefit from my guidance.” The other two nodded, accepting his decision.
“And I will tend the humans and gnomes, fair creatures they are, both have much potential to guide.” Lampros set steely eyes at Tegid and lightning crackled through her hair with the breeze. “That leaves you the orcs and elves. Do not set them upon each other Tegid. The dead may be yours, but the living are ours, do not expedite the process.”
Tegid smiled slowly, as trees are prone to do, and nodded grandly. “I see. I shall refrain from influencing the orcs and elves against each other, and guide them to prosperity.” The twins nodded, carefully and regretting the need to split their people like this. “Then I suppose we should begin our tending. Farewell for now, dear cousins.” The last Lampros and Saiwn saw of Tegid was a small sapling vanishing into the ground, as if time had reversed the life of a tree to seed. All the while Tegid smiled happily to himself. “But nothing to keep me from setting them on the others….”