The Creation of Yanor

Millenia ago, there lived a great wizard named Doenranak. At the early age of three-hundred and eighty-nine, thanks to some rather fancy age-enhancing magics, he decided that he deserved more than a handful of simple, earthly enclaves and lairs. In his pride, he formulated and penned a massive incantation, one which would tear a place in those Blinding Eternities, make a pocket in which he could utter the ancient words of creation - a plane in which he could become a god.

He spent days, weeks, months on this spell. He spent countless hours scouring the known planes, bringing together the knowledge of the ancient forces to gain the knowledge he needed. He pulled all the strings he could, used all his connections, cashed in on all his favours… He had created a spell of unknown potential.

Gathering the most precious of his alchemical and arcane devices, he casted this monumental spell, creating a massive plain where once there was only darkness. Within this tear, he uttered those words of creation, casting a spell no less monumental than the one he used to create the pocket in nothingness that he had. This spell established natural laws, providing order and sense to his dark plane.

Having the groundwork laid out, he began laying the ground. Content with his feat of creating another reality, he made himself but a single island in the centre of it all, transporting his things onto it. Here, he created life - a handful of constructs of various base ‘things’. Four characteristics of the natural world he made, personified in the basic elements.

Doenranak was set. With his expertise, he could have lived well into the future millenia, but, as is human nature, he desired a companion. He was distrustful of the other races, considering himself the pinnacle of humankind, and even, sentience in any mortal. Essentially, he had become a god, and had created his own throne. This distrust, despite his burning wish for companionship, caused him to trap himself within his plane. He created an immense ward around the whole of the reality, one so powerful and immense that it was always visible, even in the light of the sun he made to revolve around himself.

He lived like this for nearly fifty years, attempting to ‘befriend’ the constructs he created when he found them to no avail. As they created worlds and suns, he sat brooding in his lofty tower. It was here, in his darkest thoughts, that he realized that the thing he desired was not just companionship, but intelligent companionship… Sentient companionship. Trapped in his own world, he set out to make an equally powerful spell as the first, attempting to recreate what the gods made in him and made in each living being.

Once more, he took his pen to countless pages of notes, scribing once more a spell of immense power. It’s goal was to create sentience inside of the constructs he created, whom he loving called his “Apokryvei”, in attempt to give him a true companion. Gathering them all together at the top of his tower, he casted this spell upon them to detrimental effects…

Binding together at the behest of the gods, these creatures became one in a fiery conflagration, killing dear old Doenranak before he could know what was happening. In his place rose this newly-created construct, one made of all the mose base of physical and metaphysical characterics combined. It was the construct not of earth, fire, air, or water, but of the Arcane.

This creature departed the scorched island of Doenranak and travelled to one of the worlds created by those who were used to create him. This world later became known as Eyrus. It was simple, orbiting a basic star, having the form of nothing but a flat, dusty surface with small pools of water intermittently placed. This Arcane construct sought to change this.

Creating more constructs, similar to those made by Doenranak, he tasked them to fill the world with beauty. The construct of earth spoke into existence mountains and valleys, the construct of water made vast oceans and gentle brooks, and the construct of air gave the whole place sound and dynamics. The construct of fire, however, only burrowed deep into the ground, toiling away from the eyes of his peers.

For an indefinite period of time, this shaping went on, turning the planet from a void wasteland to a land teeming with beauty and form. It was inhabited by other, more minor Apokryvei created by the five main constructs. Despite all this, though, the construct of the Arcane could not shake his desire for companionship, passed on to him (as well as all the knowledge and experiences) from Doenranak.

Trying anew, he created two great beasts for each of the elements. One who rode upon the waves, one that shook the voids below. One who rode on the wing, one that could ride through anything. One that rode on the hills, and one that rode under them. As for the construct of fire, he, now calling himself Doenranak the Construct as if some sort of reincarnation of the wizard, was clueless as to how to best represent his attributes. Travelling below the earth, he came to the great, fiery caverns and seas devouring the planet from the inside.

Doenranak the Construct was displeased. While life flourished above, nothing existed under here, save for the construct of fire. The caverns of the construct, if expanded as was his plan, would eventually devour the land above. Doenranak could not have this. Calling together a meeting of the Apokrevei, he presided over a discussion of the matter. Across the board, save for those minor constructs created by the construct of fire, there was an agreement - the destruction of the depths must end.

The construct of fire was displeased. Rising up with his band, he struck his peers of the other elements, destroying the three major elemental constructs before as little as a defense could be put up… Not that a defense could be made against his anger and passion. Doenranak, standing among this wanton destruction, spoke a word so base and so powerful in his subsequent rage, that it wiped the construct of fire from existence. In the wake of this great destruction, the very plane shook and shuddered, the wards surrounding it cracking, causing everything within to break up. At the epicenter of this shattering was Eyrus, not in two great pieces.

Doenranak, heaving a great sigh, watched as one mighty piece of the land become consumed by fire and magma. Quickly, he salvaged the other piece, pulling everything to himself as he surveyed the damage. Seeing what was done to this plane - his plane - he knew that he would have to sacrifice himself in order to hold it together.

Before he did, however, he created a creature of irony to represent the construct of fire. He made those first humans, strong and of great renown, that were bound to degrade and to split as did the plane.

Doenranak, laying his eyes on the beautiful fields of Eyrus for one last time, descended to the deepest pits of the planet, binding the whole of the plane to himself, using his sheer power to hold everything together. Not wanting to completely disconnect himself from the creatures he made, however, he made a great entrance to the center of the world, and an equally great exit. He also opened up his mind, allowing the creatures above to access the plane of power he used to bind the reality of Yanor - the Arcane.