Xeriar/MakingofOblivion
Occasional copies of this book may be found in certain First Age ruins. It has no claimed author.
This book is bound in black leather and traced in silver. Its pages are written with a reverent script, if not necessarily tone. It is clearly ancient, written before the Usurpation, though perhaps only decades before.
This is the History of All that Is as Gaia herself tells us. Autocthon, while he was present among us, did not dissent from this tale.
Once, in a time before the Gods, there was a Primordial greater than any other. Perhaps the first, or perhaps not, but such speculation is pointless now.
Vast and terrible, it shone with a thousand thousand times the light of the Unconquered Sun, so great was its might. Much like the Unconquered Sun, it would pass its light over Gaia routinely, not basking what lived upon her in warmth, but in a scorching flame that cannot be seen by Mortal eyes, but burns and blisters nonetheless. Though many attempts were made at life, its continuous wrath seared nearly every attempt of Gaia and her peers. Some survived, however, and
Each time it grew wroth - and this was often - Primordials trembled in fear, for the very breath of its anger seared them, scorching and sometimes even extinguishing their souls even when it did not show its terrible face.
But, unlike them, its brilliance could never be eternal. While no other being - not even the other Primordials combined - could hope to harm the being, its own angered flusters ever weakened it.
Eventually, its wrath reached such an extent that it tore itself asunder in its fury, unleashing the greatest destruction ever to happen before or since. Even the infinity of the Wyld knew fear that day, for even the deepest reaches of chaos were - if only just this once - touched by its light.
It was all Gaia could do to protect herself, much to her dismay.
And the sorrow of those that once lived upon her, now only Shadows.
"Never again." She said.
Even after its final throes, this greatest of beings was not done for. A dark husk remained, of such intensity that no light that shone upon it would return. Light shown around it, even, would twist and warp, leading travellers to believe that it came from a place that was not, and, though rarely, lead them so to their doom.
Disgusted and terrified, the Primordials hid it Elsewhere. It did not mind, for its new form was not one to be wroth. Its terror was no longer its might and invulnerability, but its intractibility and inevitibility.
In time, it sundered off parts of Elsewhere, to make its own mockeries of Creation. In time, these would be called the Labyrinth and the Underworld, and it would be called Oblivion.
It cared not. It knew that all would be one with it in the end.
Oblivion was a shadow if its full existance, however, and the other Primordials drew great strength from the dying remnants it cast off in its final fury.
All fashioned new souls for themselves. Ligier was one such soul, though there were many others, even for that which would be Malfeas.
They soon gorged themselves on this, however, and only a tenth of its husk was used so. They deigned then to create new breeds of servants. The greatest of these masses became the Unconquered Sun, greater even than Ligier himself, for this one could be controlled by all of the Primordials. They named him a God, and he was Incarnate among them. He would warm Gaia's flesh regularly, as it was needed to sustain life.
Second among these was Luna, and only second by a slight margin. Created to provide what light was present when That Which Became Oblivion was yet not in the sky. She was made closer to Gaia and so, Gaia soon took her as a lover.
Five more Incarna they made, plucked motes in comparison to the great masses that became Luna and the Unconquered Sun, but great they were still. These became the Maidens, and by their hands would the future of Creation be guided. By the making of the Incarna, another tenth of That Which Became Oblivion's husk was used.
Another tenth was cast into the winds, and they became the lesser gods. With these gods, and the Incarna, they bound to powerful geases, by which they could not rise against their makers. To ameliorate the burden of these servents, Gaia, in her infinate love, bound another tenth to share with the Gods. She created the Five Elemental Dragons, and, following her design, the Gods repeated her works in the form of the Five Great Elementals.
These servents were not enough for the gods, however, as they, like their masters, would thrive off of worship. The Primordials deigned to make servants, and servants of servants - the Dragon Kings, Behemoths, and animalkind were but a few of the results of this.
But Creation was a static thing, the Primordials drugged on the game and, of all of their creations, only humanity - intentionally the weakest of those sentient beings - had the actual power to Create. Not just in raising builtings, but in invention, in souls, in ideas. But all that they made was crushed under the weight of the Primordials, the Raksha, the Behemoths, the Dragon Kings, and others.
This did not suit Gaia. Creation could be a grand thing, a grand tale. As things stood, however, there was nothing.
This did not suit Autocthon. Humanity could build great works, perhaps to even rival the Primordials. Harrowed as they were, however, humanity would not be allowed that chance.
Autocthon had an idea. Gathering another tenth of That Which Became Oblivion's husk, he showed the Incarna how to make Shards, by which they could infuse the greatest among mortals to make them greater still. Two hundreds were granted to the Unconquered Sun, a like amount to Luna, and twenty each to the Maidens. Each was attuned to a specific legend amongst Humanity, and could build greatly on these legends.
And they would become the greatest of the Exalted.
Gaia herself had her own method. Her Dragons mated with mortal men and women, giving birth to children who would come to know significant power, though not so great as the Celestials. Called the Dragon-Blooded, they were given centuries to spread their numbers, and tens of thousands of them would be among Creation when the time came.
That time came in the form of a great ambush. Though it was far from perfect, many Primordials were vanquished, others merely lost souls. In the end, only two surrendered entirely intact.
This story, however, is known.
Despite the greedy gatherings of the Primordials and the Gods, much of the husk of That Which Became Oblivion still remains. Some of it lies beneath Creation's skin, waiting to be unearthed, sealed remnants of That Which Became Oblivion's Final Wrath.
Heavier than lead and black as iron, this dark substance contains a fraction of the brilliant light which heralded Oblivion itself. To hold it for too long is to invite illness, for it was not meant for touch of man or beast.
Combined with other archaic substances, set with proper mechanics and detonated with refined firedust, a force will be unleashed upon Creation that, for but a moment, greatly outshines even the Unconquered Sun himself.
Its destructive might is equal to the wrath of the Primordials, and a block weighing a twentieth that of a man can level even large swaths of a Deliberative city, if put together crudely. By more careful preparation, such a device is believed to be able to annihalate our great Meru in but a single flash...
The book goes on for some time about just what substances are required for this terrible device, and how it could possibly be put together. One wonders what kind of person would even record this information...
Or why.
