Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Origins, Part 1
I suppose I should tell you, shouldn't I?
Barovania was an accident. Akenia is the digital echo of a distant past. The world itself is half a Blazing Garden with the other a Wistful Dark.
Oh, that doesn't tell you much at all, does it?
So a long time ago, a God-King from another world was wandering the Wyldspace. An odd combination of curiosity and weariness had overtaken him - he left his birthplace in hopes of finding the answers to the questions that torment a god.
In this realm of total possibility he discovered one of them. This God-King was a talented craftsman you see, and he had found a place to build. He set upon his labors in a fervor and created a perfect dodecahedron.
One of the things that troubled him most was that his home had many imperiled peoples on it. He concluded that this planetoid could be a sort of refuge for them; Each side would be its own world, and each world would be designed for specific ways of life. It was a monumental task, and he would need help.
He set upon fashioning a helper. In an uncharacteristic moment of vanity, he fashioned this assistant in his own image. He gifted it with colorful clothing and a talent only rivaled by his own. This string-less marionette was named "The Wondersmith" and due time they were working alongside each other in near perfect harmony. Landscapes were hammered out, oceans filled, and life moved gently onto its surface. The place they had made was beautiful, and the God-King named it "Promise". The last thing created was a great, protective sphere to be placed around it - its creator knew how harmful Wyldspace could be to such a world. Satisfied, he proceeded to seal it away forever.
The Wondersmith watched passively initially, in till it realized what had occurred - neither of them would ever look again upon the thing they had made together.
"Why!?" It demanded, confused and angry. "What if it needs us? How will we know?"
The God-King smiled, and placed his treasured cap on the Wondersmith's head. "This land will be without gods, my child. We are a petty lot, and we tend to ruin what we touch."
"Our time here is over." He continued, turning away. "You may follow me, child. One day you will understand."
But the Wondersmith did not follow.
And it never understood.