The Champions of Mara
Once upon a time, many ages of men ago, a single spark of light dwelt in the void alone. It was a content spark, happy to simply shine and illumine the vast darkness of the cosmos, at least for a time. For endless eons it was solitary, simply musing, thinking, but eventually it grew restless; what good was light if none were there to appreciate it? This spark desired companions, others to gaze upon the beauty of its form; to be cherished and adored.
And thus from its thoughts beings sprang, spirits of lesser brilliance and gorgeous array. And the spark was happy once more, for together the light and the spirits danced and communed, talking for long ages of the wonder of existence and the emptiness of the void. The more luminous of the spirits took on their own names, and their own forms, clothing themselves in shapes magnificent and strange; the spark was glad, for in their minds sprung thoughts it could never have conceived alone, thoughts of the surpassing ingenuity and grace.
At long last the spirits grew restless; the void was so formless, and they desired ought to occupy their time, something to mold. They grew tired of the spark's musings and esoteric discourses, impatient with its placid ways. The light saw their unhappiness and was down-hearted as well; for if its children could not be happy with it, how then could it be glad? Finally it happened upon a way to ease their disquiet.
Within the void it spun itself together, the spark changing and molding itself far beyond the glorious splendor of even the most magnificent of the spirits. Struck speechless by its brilliance the spirits could only watch as the spark became Mara, the Earth, a realm of immeasurable splendor and unknowable secrets. Forests beyond the ken of their minds grew from the rocky veins of the realm, oceans vast and tempestuous, and the spirits descended into the firmament to gaze upon the wonders of Mara.
Last of all the spark left its children a gift; beings walked upon the world, beasts, birds, fish, and finally man. In man the remnant of the spark burned brightest, and the more luminous of the spirits took it upon themselves to guide man, to help him on his course. Man walked in the lush gardens of Mara and was happy, for the radiant spirits walked with him, speaking with him, counseling him.
But in the hearts of the cleverest of the spirits a new thought awoke, a black thought; with the spark gone and these men existent upon Mara, they could gather power and beauty for themselves. Some lights thought to themselves that they could gain dominion over the others, be powerful, grow more like the spark had once been.
And that, gentle listener, is where our story began. But time has wound on, and new pages have been written in our tale. Powers have arisen upon Mara, Divines of great strength and influence that seek to bend the ways of man to better paths, as they see them, Divines wielding the power of a deity. They were not the only sons that the spark left upon Mara, however, only the most prominent. Other spirits and lights still walk the mortal plane, cloaking their forms in flesh like the sons of men. Demigods, Champions, they commit feats of great valor, sometimes acting in concord with the Divines or an individual deity, sometimes striving against the purposes of the brightest lights upon Mara.
This is where your chapter of the story begins.
And thus from its thoughts beings sprang, spirits of lesser brilliance and gorgeous array. And the spark was happy once more, for together the light and the spirits danced and communed, talking for long ages of the wonder of existence and the emptiness of the void. The more luminous of the spirits took on their own names, and their own forms, clothing themselves in shapes magnificent and strange; the spark was glad, for in their minds sprung thoughts it could never have conceived alone, thoughts of the surpassing ingenuity and grace.
At long last the spirits grew restless; the void was so formless, and they desired ought to occupy their time, something to mold. They grew tired of the spark's musings and esoteric discourses, impatient with its placid ways. The light saw their unhappiness and was down-hearted as well; for if its children could not be happy with it, how then could it be glad? Finally it happened upon a way to ease their disquiet.
Within the void it spun itself together, the spark changing and molding itself far beyond the glorious splendor of even the most magnificent of the spirits. Struck speechless by its brilliance the spirits could only watch as the spark became Mara, the Earth, a realm of immeasurable splendor and unknowable secrets. Forests beyond the ken of their minds grew from the rocky veins of the realm, oceans vast and tempestuous, and the spirits descended into the firmament to gaze upon the wonders of Mara.
Last of all the spark left its children a gift; beings walked upon the world, beasts, birds, fish, and finally man. In man the remnant of the spark burned brightest, and the more luminous of the spirits took it upon themselves to guide man, to help him on his course. Man walked in the lush gardens of Mara and was happy, for the radiant spirits walked with him, speaking with him, counseling him.
But in the hearts of the cleverest of the spirits a new thought awoke, a black thought; with the spark gone and these men existent upon Mara, they could gather power and beauty for themselves. Some lights thought to themselves that they could gain dominion over the others, be powerful, grow more like the spark had once been.
And that, gentle listener, is where our story began. But time has wound on, and new pages have been written in our tale. Powers have arisen upon Mara, Divines of great strength and influence that seek to bend the ways of man to better paths, as they see them, Divines wielding the power of a deity. They were not the only sons that the spark left upon Mara, however, only the most prominent. Other spirits and lights still walk the mortal plane, cloaking their forms in flesh like the sons of men. Demigods, Champions, they commit feats of great valor, sometimes acting in concord with the Divines or an individual deity, sometimes striving against the purposes of the brightest lights upon Mara.
This is where your chapter of the story begins.
Charming OOC
Heat. Dripping sweat, the stillness of a day before a storm. In the east, chasing the noon-rising sun, dark clouds gathered, thunderheads rising rapidly to blot out the sky. They were black with rain and under their eaves flashes of broken light flitted across the plain that was Godshome. But that did not concern the figure in the ditch: the figure, clad in only a crude tunic, that lay in the dirt staring up at the whirling of the invisible stars beyond the pallor of the sun. She had a name, yes? Yes, Rena, Rena Essex. With languid grace she pushed herself up from the dirt, and took stock of her person. No food, little water, and nothing save this crude animal hide to wear. She shaded her eyes from the glare of the fiery orb above, and swept her gaze about her. To the north a smudge of dark green in the green grass might be a forest- cool wooded boughs where the heat would not beat down on her so. It was a fair walk, but not excessively far. To the south she could make out a nearby hut, and beyond that a streak of gold in the emerald foliage.
It is hot, Rena Essex. What do you want to do?
