Stormwaltz 2016 Q&A/Questions 2 & 3

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Question 1	Cosmogony, Gods, and the Empyrean	Questions 4

Question 2: Origin of the Empyrean

September, 2016 - [No Link]

Q: There are a few scraps of lore that hint at the Empyrean not being native to Auberean, but it has never been stated outright that this is true. What was the origin of the Empyrean? Are they from somewhere else, and if so, where? Why did they come to Auberean?

A: (I'll address this further down.)

Chris "Stormwaltz" L'Etoile

Question 3: Cosmogony

September, 2016 - [No Link]

Q: The history of Auberean involves great struggles between godlike beings. These beings include Au (the sun/light), the Nameless (the shadow), the Kemeroi (also shadow related), the Slithis/Old Ones, the Gromnatross, and the Deru Trees. The Menhir rings and Ley Lines are also related to all of this. How are these beings and objects related to each other? What was the world creation story?

A: Pour a coffee, this will take a while.

I'll summarize to begin. There are two axes in the cosmogony, lying orthogonal to each other:

There is a struggle between divine forces of order/awareness and of chaos/madness.

There is a struggle between natural forces of growth and of decay.

In the beginning, there was the Nameless. It was not a creature or god as we would understand it. It had no consciousness and no true form, though it was composed of matter; an infinite sea of matter, non-discriminate, constantly changing form and composition. An entire universe composed of a single entity of pure, unrelenting, reflexive action and change; all-encompassing and all-consuming.

This came out of an idea I had, strongly influenced by HP Lovecraft, that "god is a verb." A deity is an entity that causes change to the reality around not due to any conscious effort, but because its very nature causes it. I liked to describe the Nameless as "a virus with the power of god."

You don't get to look upon the Nameless and keep your brains. Or your eyes. Or anything, really. Long before you could get close enough to perceive it, it's already ripped apart your soul and body. This is described in "Brink of the Abyss." Evaen experiences the Nameless' presence when he enters portalspace during a Shadow Spire pulse:

We thrash. No. No arms. No legs. What struggles? Only essence, stripped of ego. Who are we? We are….

Coming apart.

We do. We are nothing. There is only all. We are the Hand. We grow.

To quote an old dev doc, "It is an impression of looming, suffocating darkness; a cold, damp touch that causes flesh to run like water; gibbering madness; the moment of uncomprehending, recoiling horror between a nightmare and full waking."

The Nameless is a universe of pure matter and pure chaos.

But there's another universe.

It's a place devoid of matter entirely. There's only energy. It's a place devoid of change or chaos. There's only pattern. This is the home of what we call the Light -- "Au" in Yalaini. They're not only entities of light in the sense of physical illumination, but also in the sense of intellectual comprehension.

Why are the Light plural versus the Nameless' singular? I don't remember. I may never have answered that at all. There's a good possibility it came out of my personal belief that what we tend to define as "evil" is ultimately selfishness, and that which we call "good" is ultimately selflessness. To be good, there have to be others to be selfless towards.

The Light are also described in "Brink of the Abyss." When Asheron's steps forward and says, "Zojak Quaau," he's invoking the Light, and Evaen feels their touch:

Although she was behind me, I could sense Kei as a radiant impression of curiosity and wonder, a warmth on my back. Celdiseth, at my side, was a dark, mighty knot of worry, fluttering like a proud old hawk with a broken wing. I could smell the small flowers being crushed beneath my feet, and hear tiny insects frantically digging themselves deeper underground. I could see every leaf on every tree along the shore as they showed their pale undersides in the wind. I saw a miniscule hole in the bark of a sapling on the shore, and knew that it was the abode of a small worm, hibernating until it could be reborn as a tiny winged insect that would live but one day. I could have wept for its tragedy.

This is not our magic. Our magic doesn’t do this. It was as if I’d spent my life half-asleep, and had only now woken fully.

The Light are "an impression of clarity, heat, and contemplation; a feeling of being watched and considered from a great distance; a sudden flash of understanding that makes even a drop of water seem both simple and miraculous."

Two universes, polar opposites, each inimical to mortal life as we understand it.

Between them, a third universe containing nothing at all.

A world without form or void, energy or matter, change or pattern.

The Light stretched forth their powers. They passed into the third universe and blessed it with their own essences, transmuting themselves to pattern and light, imposing structure and rules.

Then they moved beyond. They opened a path to the Nameless' reality. From that entity, they blessed the third universe with matter, and the capacity for change.

There spun forth clouds of dust and gas, and stars, and worlds uncounted. Drops of teeming matter between empty void, islands of change bound by patterns of natural law.

Everything. Creation.

In one place, a great outpouring of radiance marked the place the Light had entered the third universe. Uncounted years later, the Lugians would regard this nebular complex, filling one-third of their sky, and come to the understanding that led them to create forges. They now call this astronomical object the Forge of Heaven. Indeed it is.

But as there was a "hole" to the universe of the Light at one place, in another location there was also a "hole" through which the Light had brought forth the raw stuff of the Nameless.

The Nameless was not asked its opinion on this. Not that it would have had one. But it reacted to the actions of the Light. Evaen sees this too in "Brink of the Abyss":

It is all. They take It away, piece by piece. Cruel with fire. Burning away the beauty. It squeals and recoils, lashing at them. They imprison It in small patterns. It is not theirs. It precedes them. The great crime. We make it right. We take it back. It becomes again.

Everything on Auberean (and Ispar, Tuu, Ezheret-Hazahtu, wherever the olthoi are from...) comes apart by reflex at the approach of the Nameless and its minions because every bit of matter in this universe was once part of the Nameless. While the Nameless doesn't "want" anything, its matter reflexively tries to return to it, and it reflexively "reaches out" to take it back.

The Kemeroi are extensions of the Nameless' essence extruded into the third universe, given quasi-intellect by the nature of this realm's patterned reality, and trying to reabsorb its stolen matter. They have no form of their own, but possess and adapt the matter of this universe. Thus the translator's note in the text of Aerfalle's Letter:

By turns, kemeroi is used to express the concepts of stillborn offspring, unwelcome emissary, unseen or stealthy movement, corrupter or tempter, nightmare, madness or terrifying hallucination, unbidden thought, parasite, scream uttered at awakening from a nightmare, thing that causes melting, liquid given form by a vessel, the touch of something frozen, and night that moves as a liquid.

Jhirvall, the Kemeroi that turned Ilservian, had infested the Nameless-matter that composed a massive cave spider. Thus, the creature Ilservian spoke to was perceived by him to be a monstrous, shadowy spider.

So. At this point we have the Light with their precious new matter/energy universe, and the Nameless trying to reabsorb they matter they stole to make it by sending forth what would become known as Kemeroi. How to stop this?

Soldiers. An army that could seal the breach between the created universe and that of the Nameless.

The Light touched matter and imposed patterns upon it, creating warrior-entities of tremendous wisdom and power, blessed with wings to travel the void that lay between spinning motes of matter.

Much later, these entities would be known as Gromnatross. They are the archangels of Asheron's Call.

The Gromnatross fought the Kemeroi, and slowly coalesced a vast shaping of mass and mana-energy in the void surrounding the portal to the Nameless' realm. Bound by the patterns of gravity, it assumed a spherical shape.

Then the Light created a second order of "angels." They would not need the ability to fly, but they required a greater facility with manipulating mana-energy. This was built into their pith and essence. They would perform their work on the surfaces of the mass moved around the Nameless' gate by the Gromnatross. They were given legs to move, and hands for detail work.

The Empyrean.

Millennia later, the Dericost undead Talaagran would unwittingly hint at the Empyrean's origin and purpose in his Scrawled Note. While describing the Virindi surgically implanting organs in Drudges to allow them to manipulate mana, he notes; "This is, naturally, sacrilege, as we all know the ability to wield the subtle energy is a gift from the gods. It is long proven that no particular organ in the Empyrean species circumscribes the ability."

This is true for the Empyrean and the Gromnatross, but not necessarily for other species. Mana was part of their nature, an integral part of the whole. Every cell of their bodies naturally affects mana. That's why they don't need to wield a casting foci.

As the shell of matter solidified around the Nameless' abyss, the Gromnatross and Empyrean wove the mana of the universe into a vast binding pattern of ley lines. Anchored by nails of menhir rings, the ley lines formed the bars of a cage, locking the gate to the Nameless within the depths.

The Nameless and its Kemeroi fought these efforts, in their own way.

The Gromnatross, though immensely enLightened, were ultimately made of the same Nameless-matter as anything in this universe. That matter could be corrupted. The curse inflicted on the Gromnatross Auraken spread like an infection, and over time the once-divine race fell to madness and barbarity. A relative handful of uncorrupted survive to this day.

The Empyrean were differently gifted. Though also creations of Light, their abilities dealt more with physical matter than the energies of the soul. The Gromnatross could only be corrupted; the Empyrean could be wholly subsumed. The Kemeroi stole the Light from uncounted numbers of them, changing them into Shadows. (The power of the Nameless did not manage to absorb a Gromnatross until the coming of Bael'Zharon. He was the one who blended the flesh and soul of a single Gromnatross and many Empyreans to make his "Thorns," the Shadow Spires.)

The Gromnatross and Empyrean completed their great cage. The last portion of the web was a door of sorts, a final gate slammed shut behind the Nameless and its minions. It barred a path straight through the shell of matter, down into its fiery core and beyond, to the maw of the Nameless' realm.

As the shell of matter aged and changed, the hole to the center was filled with earth. Later still, it flooded with water. The structure of gateworks would later be known by many names - Killiakta, Ireth Lassel, Dereth - but far below the caved-in door of the Inner Sea, the Nameless still gnawed restlessly.

The world called Auberean spun through the void, confining the maw of hell deep within itself.

The Gromnatross that hadn't lost their gifts from the Light remained as stewards, watching from on high. To their dismay, over generations their lesser siblings, the Empyrean, did not remain as true. Always more worldly than enlightened, the mass of them slowly forgot their purpose and divinity. Facts blurred into legends; commandments into mere habits. Even their kinship to the Gromnatross was forgotten. Though the Empyrean always revered the Gromnatross, the madness of the corrupted left many viewing them as animals.

Some of the Empyreans' creeping ignorance came through their own foilable natures. Some of it came from lies spun by Auberean's native life.

You might have noted that all the players I've discussed so far - Kemeroi and Shadows, Gromnatross and Empyrean - are ultimately the creations of actors from outside the universe.

As Humans rose on Ispar, and Tumeroks, Lugians, Olthoi, etc. rose on their own worlds, so did life evolve on Auberean. But here, intelligence came to the plant kingdom rather than the animal. Largely sessile, the creatures bred incredibly slowly. But they gained intelligence the more they grew, and they never entirely stopped growing. They went undiscovered for millennia, because there were never many of them and their native language was one of scent.

They led lives of slow contemplation, growing in knowledge, ignored by the evanescent attentions of animal life. Yet over time, even the plant-intelligences were influenced by what lurked at the world's core.

Those that remained on the surface evolved into gigantic, immobile trees; avatars of growth and wisdom that fed on sunlight, soil, and rain. This race was later called the Deru by the Falatcot. To the Yalain, who never recognized their intelligence, they were larchess trees. The largest could be hundreds of meters tall.

Others withdrew underground. They evolved into a more fungal aspect; avatars of decay and egoism that fed on rot, darkness, and stagnant water. They kept their ability to move, though only in their most distant extremities, which would thrust up through the soil. This race attracted many names, for they liked to be flattered by titles. They were known as the Watchers, or the Old Ones, or the Slithis. The largest could be the size of mountains. Wise by their own estimation, the Slithis each sought to overturn and devour their kin, to be the final and ultimate power of the world.

They felt the dark power sleeping in the depths beneath them, and sought to draw upon it. But they were cautious, then. They wanted only to tap the darkness, not release it.

Eventually, the Slithis of Killiakta were discovered and contacted by a regressed Empyrean culture known as the Falatacot. The bloated fungal intelligences were only too happy to represent themselves as gods to the swamp-dwellers. Over time, they corrupted the Falatacot, teaching them magics of decay and entropy in exchange for service. The Falatacot tribes warred against each other for the benefit of their vile gods. The avatars of decay grew fat on the corpses of their sacrifices.

At the behest of the immobile Slithis "gods," the Falatacot dug geomantic dungeons into the earth, intended to draw up the power that lurked deep in the world. But the Slithis were clear to their followers - they mustn't disturb the menhir rings. That would release the power which they wished only to steal from. Aerfalle's Note recalls:

The texts of the Falatacot are maddeningly vague about the constructs. I doubt they knew much more than we, only that they stood before their forefathers crawled in the mud, and are places of great power. The only words the Old Ones ever spoke of them, if speech it may be called, amount to, "Do not ask us of these artifacts, and do not disturb them."

The Slithis/Old Ones/Watchers didn't know where the menhir came from because the stones long predated them. But they were loathe to admit their ignorance, and had realized their importance in holding the darkness in the earth at bay. So they simply told their worshippers, "don't ask."

The Deru were honest about the menhir to their followers. The Tall Trees on Marae Lassel whisper:

Beast you are, Watcher, and no planter of stones. We shall have our own. Her eyes shall be clear water. She shall stand at the side of the great and chosen, though not always both at once. She shall whisper in the dark, and that shall resound evermore.

The woman who was "the Deru's own" was Adja of Ithaenc. Prophetess and priestess, she was the last full-blood descendant of a line of Falatacot who communed with the Deru. (Her ancestry is suggested by the distinctive Falatacot turquoise eye color.)

The Deru spoke to some among the Falatacot in growing alarm at the actions of their cousins. They never presented themselves as gods, but as wisdom-keepers, sharing a scope of experience that dwarfed even the long-lived Empyrean. Their priestesses represented a synthesis of half-remembered Empyrean divinity and the Deru understanding of the natural world. They did not flinch from blood-letting when necessary (in battle, or during ritual vision questing), but any sacrifices were self-inflicted and made of free will.

The priestesses of the Slithis sacrificed victims to seize immortality through undeath. The priestesses of the Deru transferred the life-energies from one person to another they loved, granting long life and protection... but never eternity. Death was part of the cycle of life. The Deru and their followers accepted this.

Another important point of the Deru-Falatacot philosophy was that of avoiding the use of magic for trivial purposes. The Deru had perceptions different than the Empyrean, and had lived long enough to notice that every use of magic drained the mana bound in the ley lines. It would replenish over time, but excessive use might weaken the cage. They didn't know precisely what was held within, but knew it unwise to risk. Centuries later, Maila's Journal noted:

In the darkest hours, Adja brought me a thick blanket. Imagine, a powerful sorceress giving her fellow a blanket instead of a small warming spell! She has never offered an explanation for her people's belief that every use of magic has a consequence. I think it may be the influence of the swamp people that once called her island their home.

Eventually, some of the Slithis had their minions dig too deeply and too greedily in their quest to tap the darkness and overpower one another. Some of the Kemeroi slipped into this universe again. They pulled the Watchers down into the depths.

The Falatacot who worshipped the Slithis were likewise devoured... until the Deru and their witches triggered the Cooling of the World, a mini-ice age.

The remaining Slithis went into a torpor from which they never fully awakened.

The remaining Deru went to sleep, like trees through a long winter.

The Kemeroi secreted themselves in places of power, and waited.

The Falatacot survivors fled to Dericost, and you know the story from there.

Here's a summary image I made during the preproduction of AC2:

Chris "Stormwaltz" L'Etoile