The First Ones

Time Immemorial

A'grappa grumbled. He paced. His room had several long accubitum with footstools and tables of various foods. Its walls were open so that the air and view easily made its way in. He could feel the winds pass along his face, playing with his hair and beard. He overlooked a large swath of the multiverse from here, going down to the mortal realms now and again for some fun. He did have to make sure they remembered that he existed. It would make sure the prayers were consistent. But, here at Heron's Gate, a place that the mortals began calling heaven, things were too peaceful.

Heron's Gate was both the name of the large golden and mother-of-pearl gate that kept the mortals from this place and the name for the land surrounding it. Marthukas thought himself wise by naming it in such a manner after the first mortal he ever created. Heron himself was long gone. The surrounding lands were white beyond white, paler than pale. A large sandstone building was erected in the very center overlooked by a sprawling garden of various flowers. There were no doors only archways that led from room to room. Eight rooms were designated for A'grappa and his siblings, the rest were common spaces. Marthukas had begun building some other structures in the nearby vicinity, which he said was for a select group of mortals that had curried favor with them. Everything had been crafted from mana. As such, the plants were living creatures that could send the mana they soaked up from around the multiverse to A'grappa and his siblings.

Marthukas sat high above them all, holding them to the plan. They were siblings in the loosest sense of the word. None of them shared the same lineage. What they shared was how they came to be. Nothing just existed from nothing. Well, almost nothing.

A'grappa hated Marthukas most of all. He had waged a pitched battle against all of his siblings at one point or another. That was his kind of fun. But, some of them made him furious. Marthukas, Hered, Rhumer, and Galadyn. He understood each one of them had a part in the plan. He just hated theirs. He could leave or take L'hrad and Lestho. Esperyn was probably the one that held everyone together. She got along with everyone, perhaps a little too much.

"Go and commit chaos, he says. Upend order. Then, he forbids me to do anything. Stupid Marthukas and his forsaken plan." A'grappa protested. He continued to pace.

"Complaining again, A'grappa?" A voice echoed from the archway of the room.

"Rhumer." He spit as he turned to face the voice. 

A young-looking woman in her mid-twenties stood before him, grinning. Her white hair came down to the middle of her back. Her skin was as pale as frost and bore the Nordic runes for ice queen down the right side of her face. Her eyes were as cold blue as ice, piercing through to the very core of whoever they gazed upon. Upon her head, she wore a circlet made of hewn stone beset by crystals of never-melting ice. Her armor was that of Nordic design as well. Leather, fur, and mail woven together. It was more of a fashion statement than anything else. In her left hand, she held a long staff of black ice taller than she was by at least a meter.

Looking at Rhumer always made A'grappa feel underdressed. His furs were not as nice as hers. And while he used them to cover his most vulnerable spots, his scales really did the job. He wore his beard with a ribbon tied around it, crisscrossing along the length. He didn't bother wearing any jewelry, like she did, or even Marthukas for that matter. Marthukas was only outdone by Lestho, who looked more like a gaudy pig swaddled in the tackiest and most ornate golden trinkets.

"You need to stop worrying about your part in the plan." She chided, as she walked into the room. Her voice sounded like rushing waters. "Marthukas knows what he is doing. We each have our part. More is not always better. Everything in moderation."

"Easy for you to say, Rhumer. Marthukas has given you one of the less complex parts where you get free reign to do as you please." A'grappa scoffed. "I am constantly being constrained in how I perform my duties. I am told to go forth and commit chaos only to be told that I lack control. Chaos is the very essence of the devoid of control." He paced even more furiously. "How am I supposed to do what he asks, if he is literally contradicting the very thing he is asking of me?"

"Adapt." Came her response. Her grin grew wider. "Besides, I came here with a solution to the problem."

"I'm listening." A'grappa stopped pacing.

"I brought this idea up with the rest of our siblings." Rhumer liked to hold onto the suspense as long as she could. That bothered A'grappa, who was pretty impatient as it was. "What if besides the mortal races, we created beings similar to us that can work in our stead? Their acts would bring more praise to us, strengthening our power, and they could serve as our mediators in our place."

"Demigods?"

"No. They would be gods, just like us, just less powerful. In this way, they could never contest us." Rhumer sounded oddly compliant. She didn't obtain the moniker The Destroyer for nothing. But, she also was the only one who had two monikers. Why she was called The Timid One still perplexed him.

Something about what she said sounded too good. A'grappa was unsure. He didn't want to decide on something so spur of the moment. Especially, not something that could create discord as more than he needed. Despite his nature, he didn't want to have to destroy. He did it because that was the role he was given. Did he enjoy it? Sure. Did he want to do it? No. He took it as a means to get his frustrations off his chest. But, this chance wasn't going to come again. It meant that if it worked he could spend his days doing next to nothing. A vacation of sorts. Before Marthukas came to ruin it by giving him something else to do.

Damn Marthukas and his lording over us like he is our king. Just because he has the most power of us all, he thinks he is the best of us all. I don't care if his part of the plan is the most important. He's not better than me.

"Perhaps, they could govern for us, guiding the mortal races to follow our plan." A'grappa said aloud, mulling over the idea. "We may need to also find or create champions that embody our ideals for the mortals to look up to." Finally, a smile edged its way across his face. "Think of all the mana that will circulate." He had a feeling that if they did this, Marthukas would be pleased. An indirect way to complete their task. As long as it was done, he didn't care.

"So, I'll take it you're on board with the idea?" There was something off about Rhumer at that moment. A'grappa couldn't put his finger on it. Something seemed like she was all too eager to have him side with her on this. 

"Rules, Rhumer." He quickly tried to break her high. He didn't want her too happy. "We need to have some semblance of order, even for us. If we don't have some structure, how can our vassals be held accountable to do as we instruct them?"

"What did you have in mind?" He could tell he piqued her intrigue.

"We can't make too many minor gods or champions. Secondly, we should share the plan with our contemporaries, just not the why. I'm not so sure they will do as we ask of them if they know why." A'grappa calmly dictated. "Everything has a reason. They just don't need to know why."

"And, what do you propose we call these minor ones?" A voice called out from the hall, sounding like the crackling of a fire. A man whose skin was as black as the void with eyes of starlight. His purple hair was brushed over one side of his face and fell about shoulder length. He wore a white tunic that fell to his knees and was belted by a golden rope around his waist. He carried himself with the allure of superciliousness and arrogance. "We have to have a way to show our superiority to them, don't you think?" 

"Exactly that, Hered." A'grappa answered. "Minor Ones. For our champions, we shall call them Fractions, for they will wield but a fraction of our power." He began to feel a little more at ease about his position amongst his brethren. Perhaps this will be worth the effort. It's not like they would ever try to upstage us or rebel against us. Right? We would be their masters, their creators. We would be their parents for lack of a better term.