There were more powers in the world than gods in those times.
The oldest of the Others was the great serpent, Theoph.
For him, little has changed in the ages of Man. For Theoph, power has not waned in the same way as it has for the rest of me and mine. His role has remained for the most part steady, and because of this he may yet be referred to in present terms.
Guardian of wisdom, and by that title champion of chaos, Theoph has jealously guarded the secrets of the world since the beginning. He protects the World Tree, itself still a present belief in the hearts of Man, though the roles of both have been reversed in the recent age; Theoph has become the perverter of wisdom, the evil in the world; the Tree, a symbol of wisdom yet not the world. The Norse remembered him well in Jormundgr, as did the Hindu in Vritra. The Greek made many children of the parent, and there his power only grew, for they made him manifold, yet his role remained singular: Hydra, Typhon and the serpent of the Hersperides, all protected the secrets of the world.
Guardian of wisdom, and by that title champion of chaos, the ways to protect the secrets of the world often brought him into conflict with me and mine, and the children of me and mine. He has been defeated countless times, in countless ages, but eternal as he is Theoph emerges over and over.
In the ages when I ruled the world, Man knew his ancestry to the first.
And the first, Mannu, my mortal son and the father of men and born from the earth, took the wisdom of Theoph for himself in place of the everlasting life of a god.
In the first flush of Man, Mannu and his children began to grow in number. And at this increase Theoph trembled, for he knew that Mannu and his children had the power to take from him the secrets of the world. And so, Theoph thrashed his great length, causing the waters of the world to rise and crash down over the lands where men roamed. Seeing the massive wave that swept towards his people, Mannu raised a mountain, saving him and his and the animals who took refuge on the slopes. And so the children of Mannu were saved, and the creatures they hunted were saved, though fewer in number.
And Mannu grew angry. When the waters receded, he sought out Theoph.
Great was the battle. From the depths of the world Theoph rose, his many heads thundering their ire. Ready and braced, Mannu took his blade and struck at Theoph. One head after another he took, and with each head Mannu's wisdom grew. The secrets of the world revealed to Mannu more and more ways in which he could defeat Theoph. And Theoph, knowing this, retreated.
So Mannu and his children became wise, and learned the ways of the world, and Theoph, fearful of the wisdom Mannu and his children possessed, remains wrapped around the World Tree till the end days, protecting it and but only seldom striking out, biding his time.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Monday, October 30, 2006
The Beginning...
Many are the tales of this world's beginning. Every one of which, within the house of its belief, is true. This is mine; earlier far than the Yggdrasill of the Norse, or the family feuds of the Greek; and more frank than the self-important myths of those who followed me and mine. Humility is a hard thing for a god to learn, but ages of standing powerless before the growth of humanity undoubtedly helps.
In the beginning (for where else could we start) all was dark.
The world -- such as it was -- existed, as did the animals and plants of the world. They, the world and the animals and plants, had existed for a timeless age beyond reckoning, unknowing rulers of creation. It was this ignorance of their power which made the world dark, though a sun shone fiercely above them through the day and the moon glowed mightily by night.
The world -- such as it was -- was a moment, suspended in time. Moving from one instant to another without regard for what was to come, forgetting the past as soon as it was done. And then... Awareness. A spark, a bright flash which ignited the fires of humanity, and mankind was born.
Then there was light.
And with awareness, a wondering. A force within the world existed which had never been before. Belief. The first of the gods were born from this wonderment. Dghom and I, Dyeus, Earth and Sky, were the most primordial. From me, and Dghom also, the world could not have existed, and thus before Dghom and me the world had not existed. We were mother and father to all creation, and how did we revel in this. The powers granted us by the belief of humanity wrought the world anew, though our powers were only conduits, analogues for the changes wrought by mankind themselves.
And so, as Man grew in power and diversity, discovering more about their awareness and function, so did me and mine.
We bore children, Dghom and I.
From Earth and Sky came the nurturing sun and rain. Hausos, the dawn, brought forth the light of the day which warmed; and Perku split the clouds with thunder and quenched the thirst of the world. Man's foreknowledge of death brought shadow to our realm, and Dghom's son Dan ruled the dark places -- both of the world and the soul. To him fled the souls of the dead, and to him ran the oceans of the world.
And so our pantheon was established, and an endless cycle of cause-and-effect as well. Me and mine were created from the world, and from us was the world itself brought into being. From us, as analogues, the foibles and traits of mankind were established. And for long ages, we grew and became more numerous. The tales of our offspring, however, are tales for other days...
In the beginning (for where else could we start) all was dark.
The world -- such as it was -- existed, as did the animals and plants of the world. They, the world and the animals and plants, had existed for a timeless age beyond reckoning, unknowing rulers of creation. It was this ignorance of their power which made the world dark, though a sun shone fiercely above them through the day and the moon glowed mightily by night.
The world -- such as it was -- was a moment, suspended in time. Moving from one instant to another without regard for what was to come, forgetting the past as soon as it was done. And then... Awareness. A spark, a bright flash which ignited the fires of humanity, and mankind was born.
Then there was light.
And with awareness, a wondering. A force within the world existed which had never been before. Belief. The first of the gods were born from this wonderment. Dghom and I, Dyeus, Earth and Sky, were the most primordial. From me, and Dghom also, the world could not have existed, and thus before Dghom and me the world had not existed. We were mother and father to all creation, and how did we revel in this. The powers granted us by the belief of humanity wrought the world anew, though our powers were only conduits, analogues for the changes wrought by mankind themselves.
And so, as Man grew in power and diversity, discovering more about their awareness and function, so did me and mine.
We bore children, Dghom and I.
From Earth and Sky came the nurturing sun and rain. Hausos, the dawn, brought forth the light of the day which warmed; and Perku split the clouds with thunder and quenched the thirst of the world. Man's foreknowledge of death brought shadow to our realm, and Dghom's son Dan ruled the dark places -- both of the world and the soul. To him fled the souls of the dead, and to him ran the oceans of the world.
And so our pantheon was established, and an endless cycle of cause-and-effect as well. Me and mine were created from the world, and from us was the world itself brought into being. From us, as analogues, the foibles and traits of mankind were established. And for long ages, we grew and became more numerous. The tales of our offspring, however, are tales for other days...
Friday, October 27, 2006
Welcome mortals
In ancient times, before the rise of the Greek, the Norse and the Celt, before even the Vedic gods, nigh the whole world paid its homage to me. I, Dyeus Phater, the Shining All-father governed the gods of the world, and by that right the world itself. Then came a time, after countless generations of worship, when the tribes of old began to settle the lands in which they roamed. Separation and isolation from the grand nomadic hegemony led to distinct cohesion of beliefs.
Belief having the power it does is as a fine blade... but as with all weapons, a blade can be pointed both ways. The rise of the new gods edged me and mine even out of memory, for their purpose was identical in most ways to our own, and the names they took to themselves were near enough ours that the people believed they were one and the same. And as the new gods rose and developed, so we were pushed farther into obscurity and impotence.
Only by their power -- much like geese in a slipstream -- and isolated pockets of humanity who still held to the old ways, did we yet survive.
And when the great Lonely Gods arose from the fertile plains, the Gods of Moses and Jesus and Mohamed, who supplanted the new gods in their turn as surely as me and mine were, all that was left was a flickering spark, almost expunged but for the hearts and dreams of a very very few in the western realms, and the power of the Vedic gods. There at least, the "slipstream" of power fed me and mine; and more than it did the Norse or Greek or Celt, who were condemned to crippled analogues of their former selves -- folk heroes and boggarts, goblins and pixies.
So we continue, me and mine, in starvation and near impotence. But hope is in the very ether, for we are reborn under the strange succour of Academia. For every one student who stumbles across the origins of the gods of the world, our power grows -- albeit subtly -- as the belief required in study is closely allied to the belief of worship. And so we rise, slowly, slowly, never to our former strength, but out of the depths we have inhabited for an age and more.
Belief having the power it does is as a fine blade... but as with all weapons, a blade can be pointed both ways. The rise of the new gods edged me and mine even out of memory, for their purpose was identical in most ways to our own, and the names they took to themselves were near enough ours that the people believed they were one and the same. And as the new gods rose and developed, so we were pushed farther into obscurity and impotence.
Only by their power -- much like geese in a slipstream -- and isolated pockets of humanity who still held to the old ways, did we yet survive.
And when the great Lonely Gods arose from the fertile plains, the Gods of Moses and Jesus and Mohamed, who supplanted the new gods in their turn as surely as me and mine were, all that was left was a flickering spark, almost expunged but for the hearts and dreams of a very very few in the western realms, and the power of the Vedic gods. There at least, the "slipstream" of power fed me and mine; and more than it did the Norse or Greek or Celt, who were condemned to crippled analogues of their former selves -- folk heroes and boggarts, goblins and pixies.
So we continue, me and mine, in starvation and near impotence. But hope is in the very ether, for we are reborn under the strange succour of Academia. For every one student who stumbles across the origins of the gods of the world, our power grows -- albeit subtly -- as the belief required in study is closely allied to the belief of worship. And so we rise, slowly, slowly, never to our former strength, but out of the depths we have inhabited for an age and more.
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