Gods in Bavelion Part 1: Ascension and Death

Thousands of years ago, the gods were far more active on the material plane. There was almost as many gods as there were cities, towns and villages, enough gods to answer every prayer of every lost soul in the world. Gods were different in those days, you see, gods were more like wandering miracle workers and saints. They were not as powerful as the few gods of today and they acted far more as otherworldly humanoids instilled with a divine purpose that was among their namesakes. Things were much less complicated in those days.
The gods had originated from a beautiful and divine land known as the Mountain and Garden. The mountain was where the gods would hold council with each other and speak with their eldest and most powerful, at this time the eldest god among them had been Annam the first giant, and Moralin the maker reborn. Both gods occupied similar domains, as both were gods of some form of creation, but handled these domains with much difference. Annam was an ancient and wise god of creation who had moved the mountains and oceans and created the giants to live as the benevolent guardians of the small folk, and Moralin was the god of dwarves who instead inspired creation and inventions of his followers instead of his own and chose to teach the means to make beautiful creations of stone, metal or anything they had wished to create rather than to craft himself. And yet they would find a middle ground to agree upon, allowing the gods to have wise and concise council.
In those days of yore, it was not unusual for a god to fall in battle against a devil, demon or some other evil, and as such their power would still remain within the world. This power manifested itself as a path, a path anyone could walk down and by emulating the actions, deeds, and morals of that path they could in turn become the reborn manifestation of the fallen god. Ul’Betex, god of shadows and the night, was the first god to meet his end at the hands of a mortal, and since that point it had been accepted by gods that they could die just as mortals could, albeit only by the action of being killed and even then it was far, far more difficult.
In those days, there existed only the magic of the gods, which they would bestow upon their loyal followers, or use this magic to help their worshippers or those who were in need. It would be unheard of for a humanoid to challenge a gods magic, however such a truth would not hold forever.
That was until something changed. There was once a king who loved a god, their names are long lost to time. The God was a benevolent beacon of knowledge, she used her powers to bestow upon her people the knowledge of medicine, agriculture and science that wouldn’t be discovered for hundreds of years, and alongside the nobility and generosity of the king their humble kingdom had prospered. However the God had always lived her life with much melancholy for she knew that she would die before her love, and that she would die soon.
The God came to the King that she had wished that when she would perish that he would walk her path and take her place. The King attempted to calm her worries, and told her that even such a noble god such as herself could be wrong, and that so long as they were together nothing would divide them. In secret, the king was distraught, and would stop at noting to save his beloved. He had sent wave after wave of archaeologists and adventurers to pillage ancient ruins, and requested scholars and librarians from all across Bavelion to search for a way to change the Gods fate.
Over time his coffers would drain but his desperation and paranoia would only grow as his Beloved grew only more and more dour. Soon enough none would heed his penniless pleas, and his people began to see his actions as that of a crazed madman. One day an adventurer would bring to him a wretched blade, with a jagged sickly violet edge. This was a Shard of corruption, said to be taken from the very flesh of the makers and one of the only means with which one could kill a god, so the King had his brother swear an oath to forever hold the blade, and to take it far from his beloved until the end of his days. His brother was outraged at this, but chose to obey his kings will.
Soon enough, only the king would remain to seek out the answer to his question. After months, perhaps years of seeking, the king came across a burned and ancient castle of a cruel tyrant who had lived far beyond that of most men. Within the ruins were accursed tomes who would spell out the means of the darkest magics. But the king had come too far to come home with nothing, and read the ancient scripture written upon pages made of shadow and ink of blood. Within he learned the secrets of magic that could make one Invulnerable to death and everlasting. Relived and tired the king made his journey home.
After an equally perilous journey home, the king returned to his lands to find them in ruins, villages burned and mobs cried out in anger at his presence. He quickly fled through the fields of ashen crops, only to reach his castle ablaze, atop it stood his brother wielding the Shard and saw as it came down upon his Beloved gods neck, killing her instantly. The King immediately fell to the ground with grief and tore his hair from its roots, and his tears flowed red with rage.
After days, weeks possibly months of grieving alone in the countryside, the king had changed. His grief had consumed him whole as he wallowed in it, but soon it would instea sharpen him with purpose. His beloved had but one wish when she would pass, to follow her path, and that was what the king would do. The king knew his beloveds every, action, feature, and belief as he was consumed by thoughts of her. following her path would be a treacherous journey of philosophical and physical tests and torment, the contents of which are lost to the ages. However, while he followed this path, the king had learned of his beloveds every memory. She had known of her death as well as the other gods had, and yet they did nothing to intervene. The gods had long accepted their fallibility and accepted it was a part of sacrifice one made to become a god, and as such could not and would not do anything to stop the demise of their fellows. His grief spurned to rage, not only to gods, but to every man, woman and child who had stood by and watched him be consumed by his rage and fear and done nothing. He became hate itself, a pale sickly reflection of his beloved and perhaps out of some fleeting sense of sentimentality for his passed love he chose not to tarnish her name once he had completed her path and instead chose a name that would go on to inspire fear and dread to all those who would hear it for centuries to come. And that name, was Vecna the whispered one.
Vecna returned to his brothers new kingdom to find it in peace, and with his newfound power and death magic he easily tore his way unto the castle he once called home, until he reached his brothers chamber. He struck his brother aside, paralyzing him instantly. Vecna tortured his brother in unspeakable ways for weeks and weeks, his screams heard by all those who looked on in horror at the castle drenched in blood. In one last act of vengeance, Vecna bound his brother to fulfil his oath, and instead the blade would forever hold him. Vecna took forth the horrific corruption within the blade and swallowed it whole, and tearing his brothers soul from his body and into the blade to be forever tortured unless it would bid the last wishes of his beloved and forever protect Vecna.
Vecna would stand out upon the balcony of his desecrated castle, looking upon his subjects who stared back at the horrific monster before them. Vecna tore open the skies and brought down hail of green and black spears of shadow, that tore the crowds apart limb from limb. Vecna took their souls within himself and turned himself into an undying lich, placing his Phylactery within an unknown plane of existence. Gone was the feeble flesh of the man who once was, and along with him any trace of humanity. It would not be long before the gods would send envoys to search the ruins and find what had happened to the king, and they were lead by a god of life and nature named Danu who intended to repair the damage done to the land. Vecna emerged from the castle, speaking not a word he tore the god limb from limb to the horror of her followers, and consumed her flesh and with it her power became his. He looked upon the crowd once more and spoke. “For too long you have toiled in your slavery and chains, and now you are free. Behold your savior, Vecna the All god, and the reign of your masters is over.” Out of fear or agreement many among the followers of Danu joined Vecnas cause, all the rest had their souls torn from their flesh and were cursed to undying servitude of the All god.
Vecnas army continued to swell with followers, and from among them he chose one to wield his brothers weapon. A man named Kas, little is known of whom Kas had been in life, took up the blade of Vecnas brother and became its new master, and with it Vecna took the secret and ancient knowledge of Vampirism and bestowed it upon his lieutenants, foremost among them being Kas. And as this unholy army would cover the world in a blanket of dread their armies grew and the Age of Vecna had begun.