The Merciful Mind
The History of the World of The Merciful Mind.
As Told by the Truth of Ehnofel.
In the beginning, there was dust.
Ehnofel, the Father of Light, looked upon the dust, and was saddened. Where there could be life, and light, and hope, there was silence. As he shone his light, there was only more dust, and dust does not need light. Ehnofel looked to Jisan, and spoke.
“Jisan, build of this dust, a world for which can receive my blessings.”
Jisan ran her hand through the dust, and where her fingers passed, were chasms. She picked up the dust, and cast it up, and there were clouds. She piled the dust, and there were mountains. But it was not enough.
Hajama came to the fore. His voice rumbled off the mountains.
“Jisan, you craft, but you do not challenge yourself. Hajama will show you!”
Hajama slammed his foot down into the mountains. They cracked, and out poured the fire inside. Hajama grabbed the dust, and crushed it, and out poured water, filling the chasms. Hajama slammed the ground, and the wind rose, and the clouds did move.
Jisan was angry. Jisan’s voice twined through the clouds, piercing through the seas.
“Hajama, you know nothing of creation. All you have done is destroy. Look, my mountains do weep fire, my chasms are hidden, my clouds flee from their place!”
Jisan knelt to the earth, and placed her hands over the seas. Where her hands touched, ice rose up, clear and white. She grabbed the cracked mountains, and pushed them back together, till only a few spat their fire. She grabbed the seas, and hurled them at the clouds, slowing them, and filling them with water.
Ehnofel stepped between the two, and held his hand out.
“Look. There is a land worth of being blessed.”
And it was. Trees sprouted, animals ran through the fields, and out from the trees we came, eyes opening, looking up at our creators.
As written, in Oghma’s Tome of the Infinite.
In the beginning was darkness. Zara, she of shadow and the arcane, rejoiced at this. Her power swelled, so that she almost eclipsed the other gods.
Gavir stood, and demanded she bow down, for all must stand as equals in the Pantheon. She was ignored.
Ehnofel stood, and unleashed his light against Zara. But it dwindled and died. For all light creates it’s own shadows.
Oghma, still seated, deep in study, spoke but a word, but with the weight of one who knows all behind it.
Zara, cowed by Oghma, stepped back, allowing the light to creep back, and on the divide between light and darkness, a world began taking shape.
Gavir imposed on it the law of the elements. Jisan crafted the mountains and valleys. Ehnofel planted the trees and beasts.
As the planet grew prosperous, Farel strode across the land, and wherever she stepped, a new people, a new nation was born. Human, elf, dwarf, gnoll, minotaur, all sprouted from Farel’s footprints.
Oghma, ever diligent, looked down into his tomes, and smiled, for everything that had happened had already been written.
As written in All Life is a Dream, by scribe Elyas Freewinter.
It is told, among those of us who follow Vaaes, that this world is not the first. Countless exsistences, each beginning at the end of the last. Each nestled inside another, a dream, within a dream, within a dream.
When we die, we do not vanish into the Aether. Nor do we go to sit by our chosen divine’s side. We awaken from this dream we call life, and enter another.
But what if this is the final dream? What if, upon awakening from this existence, we find ourselves outside? No dreams, no gods, nothing.
I put to you, that there is no “outside.” We are all encapsulated in the dream of Vaaes, and each dream will lead into another, for eternity. Until Vaaes herself awakens, and we are as we were in the beginning, merely a thought, a wisp of imagination. One day, Vaaes will awaken, and with her, existence will finally reach it’s end.
All the gods, all the people of the world, the rocks, the trees, the beasts, are all figments of Vaaes’ ever shifting mind.