#naesaru

Enrwk became god of time, Divination under Cognition.

Tulen became god of the mortals, Emotion under Order.

Made immortal, they too watched their world pass by. Rwk was a reclusive sort, content to stay in his temple. To do his duty and nothing more. He watched the timelines, sorted them, and told of coming futures.

Tulen took to his new duty fully as well. He learned the hearts of men, heard their sorrows and their rejoicing, and acted as their voice in the high court of the gods. Tulen was much beloved by his followers and loved just as much in return. In fact, so great was his love that it overshadowed his loyalty…

The high gods grew distracted, as often high gods do. There are many worlds they care for, and when they fell into crisis, none could blame them for turning away from small and content Naesaru briefly. None but Tulen, at least.

The people were growing restless in the absence of divine protection, and he grew restless with them, feeling all their emotions well in him. But while they were only mortal souls, Tulen was a god. He was not so powerful as the higher gods, but he did know them just as well. He knew their hearts like any others. When he struck he did so truly and mercilessly.

A barrier was raised, anchored by a great spire. Fueled by the souls of the world and by Tulen himself, it cut off the world from all of the others, barred the high gods entry to their own creation. To break the shield would be easy for them, but to undo it, would also be to unravel the protection of the rest of the rotation.

To reclaim Naesaru, they would sacrifice their other creations. A silent challenge: Pick a Favorite Child.

The barrier did not fall.

The God King Tulen’s reign began with a golden age. Returning to his Homeland, he ruled all the world and did so with a grace unseen before.

He chased out injustice, turned away disaster, raised the poor and tempered the greedy. He felt and knew the hearts of those who came to him and sought their joy above all else. He also felt the ire of his patron, turned away by her creation by his betrayal. His workings kept the high gods’ wrath at bay as well.

To Rwk he came with news of conquest and hope of advice, but in the diviner’s temple he found only silence.

And so he ruled alone. Naesaru’s only deity.

To do the work of the pantheon alone was a great effort, but one he shouldered as best he could. His duty was to his people, and his followers deserved nothing less than his full attention.

Centuries passed, and as they drifted, so came the pull of rest to Tulen’s mind. Not a simple tiredness, but the draw of cyclical sleep, the deep, divine rest. Passing. He resisted, of course. He could not rest for he was alone. Who would hear prayers while he slept? Who would hold the sky and direct the storms? Who would hold the barrier?

His work fell into swift efficiency. It kept him occupied. It kept him awake.

Centuries passed.

His kingdom reached to all the world yet some mortals still clung to their worship of the old gods. It was the desire of their hearts and their joy, which he welcomed, yet now he found the prospect scared him in the back of his mind.

Had he disappointed them?

Had the others gotten in?

Was this such a good idea?

Centuries passed.

The draw of sleep was fading, barely felt at all. Instead, there sat a great discomfort that tugged on something within him. Something had changed.

Centuries passed…

The first true resistance was brief yet bright. A tiny sect of mortals on the fringe of the southern continent that rose and fell in a blink. But it was something feared regardless.

The second came shortly afterward. Had he been neglectful to them? Was his care too much?

By the third, his fear had turned to irritation. He was king! He was god! All he did was for mortal happiness and they denounce him? Something had changed…

Inshulka, they called themselves with their discontent turned at him like spears, preaching of the old gods. But Tulen found comfort in his own. His followers were true and just, and he would see them dismantled.

Heretics. That is what they were, no? They had always been there. Everywhere really. His temples had expelled the old in a way, but there was never a reason to truly chase them out. No… Something had changed.

His response drew more from them. To see such things crushed only saw more grow in their place. Like a plague it spread, to be met with holy fire. His command raised armies of the loyal and the loving. His word turned out betrayers and those who would see his work undone. His war only fueled the flames of dissent. Something had Changed.

His generals waged holy crusades in his name and his own home grew restless around him. Tulen himself took to his spear. He would be savior to his people. To his world. To himself. He brought his priests close and in guarded company, sought their hand and help in a final blow. They delivered their promise to him in spearheads. He had ended wars many times in his long life, but this was different.

Something had changed.

The spell which killed the god king was a powerful one, sown by hands that had witnessed his slow, sleepless decent into madness. It was careful, meticulous even, and most importantly, it was designed to destroy.

However gods cannot be killed. Not entirely.

Regardless, the warring world embroiled in its unending crusade was made to watch as what remained of their kingdom tumbled before their eyes. Even as Tulen lost grasp of himself and his sanity and drove his followers to violence, his hands continued their work by the shear habit of it all. He held back storms, and earthquakes, he held the minds of his people, he held great cities on his proverbial back like atlas under all of Naesaru. He held the barrier strong.

When the spears of his betrayal found his heart and tore him from his very core, all things fell.

In mirror to its predecessor, the third age began dim and clouded and bloody. The world over suffered the shock waves of the universe snapping back into its natural order after thousands of years of softly pulled blows.

The crusade faded into mindless battle for shelter from the barrage. A single global kingdom shattered into its parts, and once the politics had settled, the people turned to themselves to pick up what was left and start again.

As it always had, the barrier remained, weak but intact. It’s tie to the collective pulse of the planet kept it raised even in the absence of divine power. The God king’s temple had all but fallen apart, and without it, the pillar went neglected. The force of the wall grew weaker still…

For the first time in ages, the high gods could see. Not clearly, but the smallest bit of sense returned. A magical pinhole.

But they had worked with less.

Unable to reach into the world, they could only observe and record. A century passed, and then another as a new plan formed. The mortals below had survived the ordeal if only barely. Tulen himself was certainly still there, but dormant. Without divine duty fulfilled, Naesaru would slow and stagnate, but no god could exert their will from the outside.

This left Rwk, who would no doubt be waking from his own passing soon, but no one god could handle divine duty alone. Tulen himself was evidence of that.

But what of other minor gods? Of course, none could enter the realm from outside, but could a new pantheon be formed from those already within?