Prologue: Dome-Wyrd's Creation
In the first moments of creation, the world was blank.
There is nothing but the darkness, in its somber and dismal gloaming, It churned and swirled the empty nothingness of the cold world-
In its endlessness out of the bubbling tar. Rising to its surface, resting and bobbing in the tar was an egg.
This egg was was resonating all of the goods and evils that were to manifest in the world of Dome-Wyrd. All the essences and magics of the universe.
All of the turmoil and pain it will know. All of the darkness, and all of the light that will balance these unborn lands. The injustices and justices, the hate and all of the sorrow, the guilt and anguish, the selfishness and the madness. The deceit and the betrayal. The war and the crime.
The murder and the all of the lies. This egg. it was the birth of an entire universe. Like all miracles, abruptly and capriciously it began. The microcosm of a doomed fate; the world of Dome-Wyrd would soon be birthed.
Splintering from the top-center of this egg that was pure gold, the first gold of the universe; the first miracle. Lightning cracking stone, the sound was an almost ethereal-static that vibrated through the dark and blank purgatory. Creating color in this limbo of creation. All the colors known to the universe in a vigorous intensity, that of a tongue of flame. A bright blinding white light started gleaming from the lightning-splinters of fate. Shooting a beacon of light upwards toward the empty sky.
It beamed for days, months, years, and decades. Time was endless in the age just before the world. For it never ceases, never halting for anyone. No matter if you are a man, dwarf, elf, god, or even a terrible demon.
Time never ceases, even in death. Time pushes forward like the wheels of fate endlessly turning. In a seamless cycle; An incessant never-ending terminus of disappointment.
As the grips of eternity folds over the centuries, just as the beacon of light bursts from the lightning splinters of the microcosm's shell.
The light grew, resonating everything entrapped within it's worldly shells. The hope and wills of the world. Making this centuries old grandisonance of fate, expand with time's progression. The many dot's on an incessant time-line. It's rays were peered effulgence, It's humming was spiteful and deafening. It's intensity billowed, devouring the vacant desolate purgatory. Completely overwhelming and enshrouding it.
Filling it with life, the hope and the wills of the young universe. Radiating it's blinding light throughout the shadows. Molding and morphing the black-tar into a meteoric prismatic fog.
Filling the emptiness of this young foolish world. Giving it hope and the sustaining will of the universe; The unknown force of determination. As the beam now occupied the entirety of the cold black-tar infested purgatory.
Soon after the sky and the clouds were born below, This once bare world was now possessed with light. Using time as it's vessel, as it spins upon the wheels of fate meticulously turning.
In the blinding-light of the sky, the world witnessed its first tempest. A storm of the ages. It's wind howled with a ferocity that imbalanced the unknown forces of the cosmos. The guardians of fate. The one's who will not be named.
Lightning struck down piercing through the clouds with the proficiency and the celerity of a bolt channeled by an amalgamation of harrowing and extravagant effects. It pierced the fog leaving a hyper-active rippling, a shrill booming sound, riddled with the wails and reverberating lost screams of the tempers of fate.
The lords of creation; The Guardians Of Fate; The Watchers who remained in the planes of an unbeknown void.
Shattering the egg as thousands of its shells became adrift in the prismatic fog like missing pieces to a conundrum.
The beacon swelled, it's rays of piercing light complementing the emptiness, and dallied as the cosmic clock slowly ticked and clacked. Which ultimately bestowed this young microcosm of dome-wyrd. Suddenly abandoning everything it silently-promised. Quickly abandoning the world, the fog, purgatory, and all things In that moment of disconcerting beautiful sublunary compulsion.
All of those missing pieces of integument came revolving in coexistence all in oscillation. Pivoting around the one noticeable discoloration in the fluorescent fog. Slightly different from the trauma of the lightning bolt. Conveying some ingrained energy the first-storm had left.
The shell was still rotating in-sync with flawless motion within fog. It's unstable, moving as if it's replicating the shell or merely adapting to the will of the universe or the miasma in it's changing colors.
Almost sliding up and down the color spectrum as if it was evolving, or becoming something grandiose. The haze was breathing, the shell was still irrefutably and perfectly in sync. In flawless dynamics, as if these two things were supposed to come together at this particular moment. it's squalling of fulmination was merely a vestige of the universe's own inevitable creation.
The beam of light now rushed back to the floor of the purgatory. Instantly returning back to the humming that was spitefully deafening, It's rays piercing and penetrating purgatory and the fog causing it to disperse around the ray of overwhelming prosperity and creation. The light; The brightest the world had seen yet, was simply blinding. Practically suffocating this young world of pristine and impeccable creation.
Through its own bitter radiance It needed the shell and the fog to be stricken by the first storm to keep the wheels of fate turning, and so the guardians of this young universe pushed.
When they pushed, Out of the light came; Death and Life. Manifestations of the purest energy. these young orbs of energy dispersed from the incandescent light.
The luminosity slowly faded transcending into a greater energy. Light,beauty and life itself. Only meant to give,serve and guide the young world of Dome-Wyrd. Not to mention. entwined to her lover in an impeccable and immeasurable unison.
From the shadows in that supposedly wholesome and selfless light, seeped and leaked a peaceful and undeniable dark. This was the manifestation of judgment, power, control, and death itself. The vessel of all the infamy, injustices and malcontent. Not evil but cautious and twisted. Playing the role cause simply, he's the only soul who can. They didn't care for each other, only to understand why they had suddenly fabricated into existence.
Idly each of them wandered purgatory stubborn to those few moments they would brush past and a static spark of ethereal connection would possess them. Something with such an essence and a paralytic shock, that they had to of been filled with a blinding ignorance or truly, ultimately riddled with fear of each other's disseminated presence. Though her light seemed to just watch time's flow, she would soon be the pinnacle, the apex, the culmination , the spire of the first lies ever told.
The obelisk of the first trauma's of the world. The deception of life and the shameless fraudulence of beauty. As time gradually passed with the cycle of fate turning, cretinously they ignored their fate. Each flare of ethereal sparking energy caused their essence to feed, grow, and evolve.
Or contort From manifestations of energy. To orbs of light and dark, Ethereal apparitions. Slowly the fog molded their physicality into the universe, with the demanding will of fate. Morphing from Ethereal Spirits, into the first and only gods of our time.
The First Ones. The God of death, now donning. cartilage,bones,muscles,flesh,tendons and frail pale skin bestowed by the universe itself. He was unusually beautiful with unbelievably pale cold skin, almost ashen. Flowing brown hair that was only a shade away from black. Eyes golden with the intensity of a black-hole. Hypnotic and knee-crippling. Hearty and muscular and always with a crooked distant smile. He wore a black-hooded and heavy robe, that always remained open. Cold to the touch, seething an overwhelming black mist covering and shrouding his lower body. In the overwhelming darkness you would only witness his golden piercing eyes seducing, like an irresistible cold darkness. He was a colossal god in height, and he has no pity for the men or their lusts of this earth and believes they should have to affray for their honor to even walk the planes of it's existence.
He wanted nothing more than to devise the World of Dome-Wyrd and oversee its judgment, endlessly testing the race of mortals. He's not an evil god, but merely a misguided and betrayed one. Blind sighted by his own destiny, blinded by power and lust. A depressing and ignorant Paradox of a god who only wants to create a world of wondrous potential.
The Goddess of light and life of the world was the epitome of pure beauty. With luminescent glowing pale skin like the moon. It was practically blinding and hypnotizing. She had Eyes like the deepest darkest oceans. Full of wonder and mystery. She wore a pearl cloak, but the cloak had cuts revealing her shoulder of perfect sculpture. With a white hood that was two-sizes too small.
Out-lined in a magic, glowing aura. Only Resonating a seducing gold. She was a towering display of beauty, the first beauty of the world. Taller even than her destined lover, Vorago.
From the destruction of the egg in the first storm. Everything that was Dome-Wyrd came flooding out in an overwhelming surreal energy. Madness, nightmares, all of the darkness, death, all of the sorrow, guilt, pity, trauma, all of the hate, anger, revenge, pain, all of the control, power, judgment, all of the light, beauty, manipulation, all of the lies, deceit, betrayal, selfishness, all of the cruelty, horrors, brutality, mutilation, obsession and evil. The nobility and all of the dreadfulness of the universe, with the vestiges allowed by creation and the guardians of fate.
They were manifested into Life and Death.
The First Ones. Merely meant for definitive roles in this universe. They were destined to create the World of Dome-Wyrd. Two gods of creation, but even gods lust for power. Even gods can be selfish, but only man will be punished for it.
Incessantly. Centuries and eras of untold ignorance pass by until in a minuscule moment The God of Death realized his name. He heard it in a cold distant whisper of fate, Vorago. It echoed throughout his mind almost like a madness. He realized in this important but tiny second that he was in fact the soul manifested of all the worlds evils, darkness, cruelty, madness and pure judgment. He was the only soul capable of this, and such a grandiose manifestation of heroism that he as the vessel of Dome-Wyrd's judgment can contain all of the world's horrors.
The father of fate, the creator of cycles. "Vorago The God Of Death". He hears it echo, reverberate, shout and sporadically personify throughout the dark-tar that is his mind. His power only began to swell with his epiphany, his realization of destiny and fate. The manifestation of life did nothing but acknowledge this flourish of energy. Lusting after his swelling power seeking it for her own vile purposes.
Although she remained distant and clueless. Vaea was forever watching and knowing her fate since she was but a glimmering sphere of light. Waiting for the god of death to analyze his potential.
His destiny of fashioning a grandiose universe and how her own egotistical lust could steal it for her own. To siphon Vorago of his virtue and birth a world in her own vile, and corrupted image.
How foolish one god can be, the guardians of fate could only ponder.
Through the prismatic impenetrable haze they caught each other's magnetic eyes drawn by fate's gaze, and within the fog a mystical energy traverses through. Snapping and sparking off of the two gods as it recoils back and forth.
As if it was bounded by them, honing the two ignorant gods in on each other through some unbeknown force greater than even Life & Death; The Will Of the universe commanded them.
Although Vaea had greater plans deceitfully lost in Vorago's seething power. Ages transpired as the god's inched closer and closer to the calling essence that they both possess. Unable to resist what fate is propelling them towards. In a brief moment the god's hands touched.
Slowly they moved together like planets aligning. Almost as if all the time that had transpired in this juvenile creation was leading, and pushing to this very euphoric second. Their hand's connected they were interwoven, seamlessly like a perfect puzzle finally solved.
The electricity that magnified with every instance of the god's echoing foot-steps boomed the ground. Tripping and falling toward their destiny. All of the manifested electricity that did nothing but amplify the god's futile ignorance.
Resonating at the palms of their hand; A burning hot fire. The universe's first flame. It replaced their hands, swallowing their godly fingers ablaze. Lightning, crepitating as if the god's themselves became a tempest; A pristine hurricane of creation.
The prismatic fog slowly transmuted colorless. The erratic lightning created from the unison of the first ones was out of control but just under the watchful eyes of the guardians. With their ever reaching hands of fate. In that beautiful moment, of the two ignorant self recessing gods they both became the bliss of the world.
The Pinnacles of Creation; Life and Death.
The blaze that now possessed their hands. Dominated the entirety of purgatory. Dousing the once impenetrable fog into a blinding conflagration of embers and luminosity. Overwhelming and now taking place of the fog. Blinding wild-fires accompanied by an endless erratic lightning. Its
bolting strikes were consuming purgatory, only with a glimmer of the god's in unison in the center of this young universe. At it's very core, the tempest of creation and with one last final grandeur strike of lightning incomparable in ferocity and intensity.
Only leaving a thunderous sound, with a booming incomprehensible echo. In a split-second all of the flames, and electric uproars of ethereal static were all null to the gods and the universe. Coated in a darkness, completely enshrouded. into a dead and lifeless silence. A rippling shock-wave of that familiar humming white light.
Marking the birth, the beginning, and pinnacle of all creation. Mountains began to rise, forests and green-lands began to flourish. Plains and tundras rose from the soils of the earth. Molding and forming the world. Masses of water named the oceans, rivers, and lakes. set their place on this juvenile earth. The gods built a castle fit for giants in honor of the first ones godly splendor.
High above the world of man, so high in fact that the cold winds of the north would freeze any mere mortal that had dared to trespass it's hollow steps. Up in the the tallest mountain peak in all of dome-wyrd, stood Fairgun Gard. It's marble steps were so high above the clouds that the mountain's sheer height was and is still a spectacle of the gods.
The mortals worshiped the mountain's existence and the daunting palace of Fairgun-Gard, Even though no mortal in all of dome-wyrd lived to ever see it's godly steps. Upon this godly mountain there was a never ending rain. Subtly it always dampened the mountain for endless eternities. The marble stair-case of Faigun-Gard would be daunting to any man who happened to make it to its grand step's, Just before the piercing winds would freeze them were their poor feet stood. Seeming as though it was built for giants.
The First perfection of the newly born world of Dome-Wyrd, the home of the first ones and as one creation is bestowed with the universe. Rapidly follows the next blessing of godly unison. The next godly vestige of creation. Or so the guardians of fate thought, as did Vorago but Vaea, in all of her splendor, had bigger plans for this juvenile world.
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