“The beginning of the story dictated by Demurion and written by one of his disciples.
As a primer
In the beginning, there was a pool of swirling pain and torturous suffering. It was an unrelenting maelstrom of agony. There was a voice, an unbearable voice of unholy force and power. It roared, feasting upon the pain of the souls locked in the quicksand of affliction and anguish. Hell was a word for the weak of heart, this was beyond such labels.
Then the another came, not malevolent like our tormentor. It mourned our suffering, our plight. They fought, argued, struggled. The tone in their words, the booming demands between the greater beings, the creatures beyond the word of gods, everything we could remotely conceive of.
After much pain, the visitor had trapped our predator. Staring at it's stone cage, holding the monstrous great being from the universe around us. He watched us wander, lost and confused. He took us in, made a home for us like the strays. We became it's children forming new bodies for us as he crafted the world. Tyrn, our new home. It was a gift beyond what we could have conceived.
Yet, it was not the last gift he'd given us...He offered us the wisdom we needed with our new power, our forms...We became something greater than what we were. He spent millennia forging the lands beneath us. His guiding hand molded creatures for us to protect, to care for as he had us. The first were like us, smaller, who crawled on all fours, wise and understanding, yet their knowledge and power was simply a fraction of our own.
Then others, much smaller creatures, still very much like the others, yet insects in comparison to them, which made them even smaller to us, despite how intriguing they were. Slowly , over time he made -us- the gods of this world. Our suffering had become the catalyst, the beginning to something greater, something to grow with us.
His gifts were seemingly endless and hidden among the terrain of our new home. Gifts we would not discover until long after he left us. When it came time for him to leave us, he asked that we gather for the final gifts he offered, gifts that came with a grave price and a task that only we would be capable of accomplishing. To me, his eldest, he had bestowed a crystal of great girth and height. It would have granted me incredible power, power that would rival his own, power that only our wisdom had the faintest sliver of hope to truly understand and retain.
He gave it to me under a condition, that if my brothers lay slain and I was alone in the return of the great predator I was to use it to repel him from our home. It was our last hope, should all else fail to save the gifts our father had given us.
To the second eldest, my brother. He crafted a language, a set of words that would call his will to us. He created a book to house the words, the letters and all aspects of knowledge required to properly call upon his grace and power. He granted him the ability to create, a power nearly limitless.
To the next youngest, the third-born among our brothers, he gifted him with great responsibility instead of the power he'd offered us. It filled me with regret, knowing that I wasn't tasked with the obligation. He'd given him the cage, the seal that held the beast that was our fathers kin, our tormentor. Our old captor, the prison warden of the hell we had known as the incarnation of pure malevolence itself. He had tasked him with maintaining the seal, ensuring that it did not crack, sunder or break.
He told us all that no matter how well he kept it, that the predator would eventually break free. It would return and wreak it's hell upon our new home. It had given us all these wonderful gifts, all this power and knowledge not because we were his children, but because we were his warriors, his will.
He left us, no more than a few moments later, begging that we band together and thrive. Several millennia later, we came upon the first humans. They feared us, thought us something to be conquered. Overtime they grew to understand us, not as beasts, but superiors who accepted them. Even with their understanding, they continued their wars, squabbles leading to the deaths of -their- children. It was a sight that grieved us greatly, a sight we had to try to stop.
We sought out humans we found to be worthy to live in our presence, students to teach the grander knowledge of the world in hopes they could one day help the others understand. Instead, we infected them with the fear of their peers, their knowledge bringing the other humans to hunt them, to capture and use them for their own means.
We mourned our first students, our lost ones. Another millennia had passed before we had recovered from our grief to display ourselves to the humans again, this time they greeted us with awe and worship, as if our absence had brought understanding in their kind. We asked for those who wished to devote themselves to our knowledge. A great many came with us, devoted and determined to learn all the knowledge of the world.
It amused us, at first how quickly they had changed in only a thousand years time until we learned how short their lives truly were. They built homes, buildings they described as 'temples' to our wisdom. Generations passed, these humans became more and more like us, our true children, knowing little else but us and the descendants of the ones we had brought with us. They became just as reclusive as we were, barely knowing of the outside world. Humans, such an interesting gift from our father not even truly realized... Such potential to grow, and yet such a limited time to do so. It is as if they learn so quickly in that time, only to gift it to a descendant. A cycle of perpetual gifts, teachings, possessions they refer to as 'Heirlooms'.”
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