Eldritch Ichor primer

Izzard "Izzy" Exogryph, Eldritch Ichor primer
Many souls have considered my choice of profession, that of a historian, as a laughable one. None have proven them right more than my university teacher. I distinctly remember him speaking of the Age of Strife between the Old Gods and their predecessors if for no other reason than he called it "a colossal cagematch." Truly, he was in the wrong profession. However, if it weren't for him I wouldn't have the same profession myself, but that was only because he was the only history professor there that had tenure.

The stories are indeed fascinating, but today I am here to discuss the results of one pseudofactual aspect of their great battles: Eldritch Ichor. True to its name, it is the blood of the gods that had been slain. Today we have collected many old artifacts and stories about divinity when fathers fought sons, when mothers snuffed the life of daughters. We know that battles themselves as indisputable fact. It is the method and the results that are in dispute.

As such, the mere idea of godly blood is not out of the realm of possibility, nor of its rumored mutagenic capabilities. Whether they are naught but stories, or one unlucky soul imbibed or absorbed some kind of substance relating to such beings. I have long proposed that such Ichor was actually the predecessor to the narcotic we now know as Deluge, which also has its roots deep in the Age of Strife and share many of Ichor's side effects. But I am getting ahead of myself: let us discuss the purported effects of Ichor. According to the most commonly held beliefs, Eldritch Ichor, once imbibed, bestows a blessing, some say curse. There is no consensus as to which god Ichor comes from, if it is resulting from the combined blood of multiple gods, or just the detritus left behind after the Age of Strife, like what is left behind after all wars. One theory is that it is the result of Edon slaying his uncle Era'doth, something which I heard whispered before I started this very lecture by one of you sitting in this very hall.
I am getting ahead of myself again. Ichor's effects. Purportedly, the effects vary widely, from enhancing one's physical or mental capabilities to demigod like effect, to cursing someone with some wicked form of effluvial effervescence. There is no commonality to the effects, with the actual results varying as widely as the number of fish in the ocean.
So if there are no confirmed effects, what can you, as historians in training, glean from such scant and uninformative information? Well, analyze human nature. History is not just about documenting, researching, understanding, and cataloging events with unbiased accuracy. It is about understanding the mind, the nature of people and why they tell things the way they do. Additionally, if you cannot find a consensus, it is your job to do further research and discover what is true to the best of your ability. If one person tells you it is raining, and one person tells you it is a clear and sunny day, it is not your job to write them both down as fact. It is your job to stick your head out the window and discover which one is lying.
Of these stories about Eldritch Ichor, there tends to be the commonality of diametric opposition. Does Ichor have positive effects? Negative? It is a gamble what you might get if you were to theoretically drink such a substance, and that I turn provides you with a clue. Uncertainty. Fear of the unknown. Gods have a tendency to kill their parents, and you wish to drink the fruits of divine wrath?
Fear of the unknown and fate are common themes in literature and our nature. Perhaps it is just a story one divine told their child: don't drink something when you don't know what it is. You must use your critical thinking skills and follow these paths, understanding what people think, what people thought, what people will think later.
Now as for those who have historically imbibed Eldritch Ichor, or claimed to have done so, I bring two forth now, each one a diametric opposite as previously discussed. Lord Danin of House Austyria four hundred years ago was looking for a cure for his only son Daniel, who after a violent fever was rendered bedridden for life and prone to fits. He performed the usual motions of doing so before a trader came forth with an elixer he had dug from the earth. While digging a well for his farm where what would later be the city of Mir, the ground beneath him gave way and he fell into a small cavern filled with some noxious liquid. The shock of the landing made him accidentally inhale and drink the fallow substance, and later, according to the record, he could see in the dark, although he could no longer bear the harsh light of the sun anymore. Believing it a miracle substance and his civic duty to help his lord, he brought a flask to Lord Danin.
This is where records differ, but Danin would not give his son something he was not prepared to take himself. Danin drank the liquid and, as he exclaimed, "felt no fear for Daniel." Danin himself put the flask to his son's lips. Daniel was awake the following morning.
Daniel had also torn open the throat of his serving maid before noon with his teeth.
Needless to say, the farmer did not make a return trip to his homestead, although the headsman did earn a new pair of boots. A search of the farmstead turned up no more of the liquid, although silver was soon discovered in the area and the bloody hand of commerce quickly developed the city of Mir we now enjoy today.
But what of the fate of Danin and his son Daniel? Truly, Danin was given the title of Danin the Fearless for his martial prowess, be that due to the skill of his hand or some unholy substance, no one knows. As for Daniel, no records exist of him after killing his serving girl. Did his father cover for his murder? Did Danin put his son out of his misery? No one knows.
That's what good historians are for, aren't they?

Type

Divine