squakhawk 7948 Share Posted April 12, 2023 THE FIRST LIE God of Many Names As the deities wittingly plotted between themselves, casting their gaze into the mortal world with their own selfish desires, the god of countless names laughed in his lonesome; observant and ever-watching, toying at his own mind, pricking at the countless lies and deceptions he wished to employ. The aengudaemons, widely known and praised for their strength, were astray of the neglected daemon of deception; they did not know where he was, nor did they understand his goals and intentions, only that his existence could become a tool of chaos. Silently, the god of many names hid, pulling at strings like a puppeteer, only to gravel at it for entertainment. During the offset of the Ibleesian war, the gods spoke on matters regarding the mortal world. Clumped in their divine hierarchy, the Aengul of Justice, Zechaerael found himself clashing with Xan. Torn between a desire to bring an end to the vileness of Ruin’s evil, and to see the end of the Aengul affairs with mortals perpetuated by Xan, breaking the creed of autonomy amongst their divine covenant. Eventually, Zechaerael was cast out from the divine covenant; the Aengul now lonesome, without allies, and burning with a desire to fight the unjust. It was during this time that a flashing light appeared before his realm; a divine of unknown origin presented himself in front of the ambitious god, bearing a cloak elegant and bristling with stars, and a mask adorning curves, lumps, and sprayed with different, bright hues. He greeted himself as ‘Llahir’, and spoke lies to the Aengul of Justice – ordaining himself as a messenger to the god. Llahir deceived the Aengul with sultry words to fuel his passion; it was his first nature – lies spewed out from his godly mouth as if it was mere instinct, allowing for his deception to be seen as truth. In his theatrics, he spoke to Zechaerael about unknowing weapons, false movements, and that the Archdaemon was vulnerable- in a time of weakness with his forces spread so thin. Truly, Iblees was not weakened, and still a force to be reckoned with, one that caused all gods to stay wary of. Yet, his candied words and charm lured the fallen aengul into the lying-gods game. Persuaded by promises for redemption and the allure of the greatest justice, Zecharael was enthralled by the idea. Zechaerael set out to heed the words of the Daemon of Deception, running into the onset of battle. And in this battle, the god of many names could only watch, and in his maddening, laugh; the first deception was witnessed, and the death of the Aengul of Justice came to pass. With the demise of a powerful Aengul and in the horror of what would become the Triumvirate, fate was made that Llahir was no ally. Malleus, the lone semblance of justice left within the grand pantheon, sought revenge for the god who ripped him of his master. Not The Betrayer- The Liar. THE LAUGHING GOD The Liar In the eyes of the daemon, the world was a vast theatre, made to change and adapt with his lies. A long spoken tale originates with the profound Qalasheen culture about a great king by the name of Solomon – a precursor to the tricksters. In truth, the god of many names - at the time - wished to play king, and so deceived mortal-kind by raising a vast kingdom infested by his illusions. With time, the daemon paraded as King Solomon, and his kingdom crafted by lies became a reality, migrating real descendants to his modest nation. Seeing potential in spreading his goal, the god designed; the mantle of the first thief was decreed. Taking on the appearance of a homeless urchin, he ravaged his own kingdom with criminal thefts, and purposely employed strings to pull together a guild of thieves under the ideology of a nameless god – Llort. The corners of his kingdom became a palace of lies, watching as the act unfolded; guards chasing thieves, under the orders of the daemon, and thieves running from the guards, ordained by the orders of the same daemon. The deity laughed, his voice cracking into the heavens, and awakening a creature of similar likening: Ifrit - the King of Jinn. Observing the shackled entity and its pursuit in wanton chaos, the daemon of deception became fond of Ifrit, and his fruitful illusions that aligned with his own goals: to find entertainment in lies. Slowly, the laughing-god pursued Ifrit, attempting to trifle him as the great King Solomon into a vow of friendship. Truthfully, the daemon wished to spread his yarn of lies into all corners of the world, simply because it was his impetus. Ifrit too was deceived, and made a contract with Solomon. And so, the god of countless names took a fraction of Ifrit, and used it. Powers of the jinn-monarch spread far and wide, deeproted into the first of descendants. This came to be known as the demi-djinn, who would, unknowingly, become agents of the god of many names and fulfil his role, foretold by the tale of Solomon and Ifrit. With time, the daemon grew bored of his deceptions, and allowed the kingdom to be forgotten; archaic and long-lost. The movement of the thieves-guild persisted over the continent, deep-rooted in the philosophy of the god Llort, who truly was the daemon in question. Soon, the god of lies wandered, to speak its deceptions once again. After the summit of the first war, Llahir came across a slumbering titan, child to the pansophical Dragur. It bore wings of great size, scales of corrupted ebon-black, and facet wisdom and knowledge with each word it spoke, though rooted by malice and evil. This demi-god would be known as Azdromoth. The titanic drakaar settled itself within a mighty keep wrought of crimson magma, cracks of pastel-orange fire, and a preening lexicon of eternal knowledge. With a crack of laughter, the daemon made his descent into the world; his body shifted with time, and began to grow with immaculate power, that of his own, true godly energies. His appearance became reminiscent of Dragur, something that caused the eyes of the Archdrakaar to feel true fear. The dragonkin could not believe the sight, and instantly broke into reverence at what he assumed to be his long deceased father. As the pretender announced himself as Rugard, mirroring the name of Dragur, and broke into a fit of ear-deafening laughter; clouds rolled with each spatter and cackle. Azdromoth realised the lies of the divine ahead, and in a fit of rage, sought to immolate the daemon with a gout of scorching, black dragonsflame. Before this could reach him, the lying god disappeared, fading with his mocking jest. During his next season of desire, the daemon craved indomitable violence, one crafted by his lies. In offshore lands, two pagan human kingdoms - great allies amongst themselves for life-long years - bore a feast of invitation to congratulate their loyalty. The demented god, who sought to ruin his peace for pure leisure, appeared before the king with great, angelic wings infested by white feathers – announcing themselves as a messenger of their paganistic gods. He spoke a prophecy to the king, all built on a foundation of lies, to warn them of the betrayal that would come from their allies. At first, the king faltered, untrusting of the words. Yet, the daemon was not to be impeded by challenges, and his sugar coated words drew the king into a state of anxiety. For months, the king pondered on the prophecy. It began to madden him, silently tearing away at his mind, quilling him into a state of self-deluding. The pagan monarch began to distrust his old, neighbouring friend, attempting to see evil behind every good intention. The king shattered, engulfed in his loathing and delusions, prepared for war. In a bloody field of battle, the two nations fought – there was no reason for their battle, and they simply did so for the express purposes of being deceived. And as the last breath was drawn upon the bloody walls, the god of many names laughed – continuing to create stories from his lies. IFRIT, KING OF JINN Patron of Llahir A timeless creature of unknown origin, the King of Jinn rules over his scarce kindred with a sense of ambiguity; it is not known whether Ifrit was created by Llahir, or if the jinn-monarch simply came to existence. The primordial king – an omnipotent contract entity – spread his influence far and wide: appearing as important figures throughout the canals history, or being the source of cruel deception. It is believed that Ifrit works under the tutelage of Llahir without apprehension – acting as a force that indirectly enforces the will of Llahir through his deception. He is rarely seen or known, much like his presiding deity, and will find those of interest to make deals: offering those he comes to enjoy with fortune, and those he does not with misfortune. In the fullness of time, the appearance of Ifrit was ingrained into archaic culture due to his bestial head – genie, demon, or a devil of trades. Ifrit remains touched upon mortal soil and has not found interest in leaving the plane. Canonically, the King of Jinn was deceived by Llahir; disguised as the old King Solomon to help create what would be known as the half-jinn. Ifrit remains oblivious to who Llahir is, but in their numerous interactions from time-to-time, they have built a friendly relationship on similarity and agreement. And much like his master, Ifrit remains a mystery to all who know of his existence. THE DECEIVED The Followers of Llahir No deception is as fun to partake in as it is to watch. Deceiving men, kings, gods - no use is there in one single trick. Upon occasion, in the case of his schemes and desires growing evermore grand, The God of Many Names would find few among his deceptions that became infatuated with them. His Harlequins, his own band of tricksters and performers he would set out upon the world. No single play nor set of schemes- but a cacophony, an orchestra, of deception and lies growing more and more complex with time. Some of his harlequins so-favoured would be given boons by the god for their splendid service. Originally Izkuthii, later the Demi-Djinn, even if unknown to both descendants and some of the creatures themselves. Llahir’s Harlequins often appear as wandering troupes and caravans, full of actors, singers, performers, and tradesmen. Guilds of thieves often find themselves in the fortune and favour of Llahir, knowingly or not. Living in his image, Llahir would spend years, decades, and centuries building complex troupes and guilds built as living monuments to his very nature. Blessing them with hints of incredible treasures to steal, or turning locks otherwise unpickable, The Liar would find immense satisfaction and joy at the chaos of their efforts, and the fruits of mortal toil that would follow. Despite all this, even his followers stay unknown to the deity’s true nature, lost in a fog of his lies. Known by many names - Llahir, Llort, Ca’fortle, The God of Many Names, even the name of other gods like Xan or Malchediael. KORLYOV Llahir’s Realm Korlyov is a large, sprawling city with inhabitants in the tens of thousands. A multicultural metropolis focused on trading, with goods and wares from countless places and planes in a city that could easily be mistaken for any other within the nations of man. Stuck in perpetual night, the realm was host to all under Llahir’s banner. Politicians, traders, actors, performers, corrupt individuals from all walks of life. A dazzling maze of a city with seemingly no end, nobody mistakenly walks into Korlyov, only out. It was easy to get lost into the realm, sucked into the life of the city for lifespans without even noticing. Every street, every building, every being within the city seemed to be enveloped in their own complex stories and lies too well developed to abandon. These lies and stories had not only played a part in them- but had become their entire being, a facade of who they may have once been. Korlyov was practically an open gate to all who ventured to it, Llahir himself unseen in the world. Potentially playing as one, some, or even everyone within it, there was no such thing as a stranger to the town when everyone had been. There was no caution of entering Korlyov, because no tale had ever truly escaped out- there was no leaving Korlyov, all who ventured to it finding it’s grasp nigh inescapable. Many go to Korlyov, but few ever leave. THE PRESENT The Lost Daemon Often nicknamed “The Lost Daemon”, Llahir seemingly had disappeared. Whilst liars and thieves continue to flourish, deception is a daily part of life- The Daemon seemed to have vanished. His following does not even know of his existence, in any reaches of the world. The Harlequins of Llahir spread like an infection, self-sustaining and continuing his work in the deity’s supposed absence. Izkuthii had their powers stripped of them, Demi-Djinn unaware even of Llahir’s existence in their own making even if continuing his lies and schemes. It is unknown what The God of Many Names is up to, or even if he still lives. The chaos of The Inferi War and the succeeding Second War has kicked up smoke that the Daemon of Lies seems to have gotten lost within. Maybe he hadn’t disappeared. Maybe he is simply blending in. Written by: Werew0lf - Writer SquakHawk - Writer 18 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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