In the beginning there was On, and On was Life. Out of On came the Abstracts, the manifestations of the ambiguous nine fountains of On: Will, Charity, Wisdom, Peace, Ambition, Trust, Perfection, Creativity, and Joy. From the fountains of the Abstract flow all life and Light, and every good thing. In these fountains of creation the Animus were made.
The Animus, known as the Nine Divine Children and the first of On’s creation, compose the nine Astral planes of the Etherium, one for each Abstract. The Animus are both the landscapes of the nine planes and sentient beings with their own aspirations, wants and desires as they respond to the flow of their Abstract. The Animus grew in their own ways, and out of their love they formed the first beings, the Regents of the Etherium, known today as the gods and goddesses that govern all of creation.
For countless ages past, the Regents of the Etherium delighted themselves in creation, forming many of the races as they are known today. With unimaginable skill and power they formed the first Houses of Legion in their image to be the angelic hosts of the Etherium. Precursors to the sentient races as we know them today, they took the raw Abstracts from the heart of On and formed them into the beginnings of war, art, and knowledge.
Birth of the Primordium
So passed timeless time, ageless age, and another gift was given into the bosom of creation. On breathed a reality into existence, wholly different to the realms of Spirit ruled by Life and Light and the Abstracts. With finger, compass and rule On created governing dynamics, the pins and powers of force and distance, of time, heat, and mass. It is what is now studied by the Alchemical Academy as the Primordium .
Though ancient by the timelines of mortals, the Child-Animus were still yet young when On brought them the primordial babe known as the Primordium. The Animus were delighted to play with their counterparts, and became familiar with her four-fold nature: Earth, Air, Water and Fire. As the Primordium aged, out of the shapelessness came the Elementals, beings of pure elemental force. Without spirit, they behaved curiously to the Regents and their Houses, lacking emotion and ambition, yet still exhibiting motivations. Nonetheless, they were embraced and enjoyed by the Animus.
The delight was not shared by all however. One god whose name is no longer known took deep umbrage at these beings who lacked spirit. This Nameless One, the most prideful of the gods, feared that On’s interest in the Etherium waned. He feared that On no longer enjoyed or appreciated the works of their hands. As the ages passed and the Nameless One watched the interactions between the Etherium and the Primordium, what began as a mote of darkness grew deep and gnarled within his heart, corrupting his eyes and poisoning his mind. After eons, he was too consumed with bitterness to think of anything else. Petrified with the stupor of bitterness, he sequestered himself from his kindred, preferring the sterile deserts and empty expanses.
Eons of interplay between the Etherium and the Primordium occurred before On’s plan was revealed to the Immortals. With the weaves of the Etherium in one hand and the weaves of the Primordium in the other, the Maker knitted together their threads in the womb of the sky. He took Earth and made a body, Air to be its skin, Water to nourish, and Fire to sustain. He charged the Elemental Lords with governance to sustain this fetus. From the Etherium On fed the body the nine fountains of the Abstracts. And this was how Sudar (child in Celestial), our world, the World-Child, was conceived.
Delighted by the newest addition to the family, the Animus and Elementals doted Sudar with gifts to give. Together with the Elemental Lords, the Animus fastened the beings that shared flesh and spirit. This is how the mortal forms of Humans were born, made by the Animus into the image of On. In addition to this gift, the Animus each provided their own tributes.
During all this time, the Nameless One walked deserts unending to be alone, consumed with his bitterness. On the day of Humanity’s First Step, Myrkul, friend of the Nameless One, came to him across the bare expanse to share with him the tidings of the new World-Child. To the Nameless One, this was the resounding confirmation that all his fears were base and true. On that day, what was left of his twisted and broken mind snapped completely. In desperate angry revenge, he began to plot what would be the demise of the Gilded Years.
Over time, humanity was taught by the pantheon to care for Sudar, and how Sudar would care for it in return. Wonders were made that can only be imagined, and the wisdom of mankind expanded inconceivably. In these days the gods and goddesses were kind and nurturing, teaching mankind new forms of art, strength, and wisdom In those days magic was wilder, moving in untamed storms that rippled across the landscape. The Regents taught humans how to harness the magic, to use it to mold great cities. For thousands of years mankind prospered while the gods looked on in favor.
In return, the ambition of the short-lived creatures inspired the Regents and their Houses. So great was the love for this child that they resolved to create mirror that would portray Sudar the way they saw it. Gade, Fayeni and Gamaliel pooled resources to form a mirror reality, known in Common as the Feywild, known to the elves as Illuvium, Gamaliel formed the second corporeal race. From the primordial forests of the Illuvium came the Fey, a race of exceeding beauty, grace, and intelligence, from which elves descend. Possessing a superior mind and body, the Fey learned many things which they would pass onto humanity.
Of the Gilded Age came the three-fold races of Man, Fey, and Do’Sumai. The Do’Sumai, progenitors to the Dwarves, Halflings, and Gnomes, were created as caretakers for the heart of Sudar, the Erebor.