#world buildling

So man came into possession of music. From that small village the knowledge spread like wildfire, and with it came discoveries of things such as painting and writing. Man found his life greatly improved with the introduction of these gifts. There was a new vigor and meaning to his existence. Through music man first discovered emotion, happy, both good and bad. He learned to feel and he reveled in this wisdom.

The Gods do not speak as you and I do, with words and such. No, the language of the Gods is far more beautiful and complex, their language is music itself. It was through their song that the Gods were able to manipulate the essence of the Void and create all that exists.

When the Gods created man they agreed that their music should be kept secret from him. They feared that if man was able to create his own music he would be as powerful as they were. So they acted with great care whenever they appeared before any of their pets, determined that they should never taste the sweet sound of their native tongue.

Without music, life was an empty experience for those first people. They went about their daily tasks without passion or emotion. There was no fire to their existence. Yet, as man had never known music, he did not mourn its lack. He was content to live as he always had, only dimly aware that something was missing.

Fate was displeased with the Gods, that they should try to contain their omnipotence through deceit. So, as Fate often does, she intervened.

In a small village enfolded in Seren Valley lived a boy named Lirit. The eldest son of a poor widow, Lirit was fiercely protective of his mother and sisters. He would go to any lengths to ensure that they lived comfortably, including hunting in Malsor, the dark woods. Few were brave, or foolish, enough to venture into these woods. Strange things happened there, strange, foul things. Yet when a famine struck Lirit’s village he dutifully picked up his father’s bow and set out for the final refuge of all things wild.

Immediately upon entering Malsor Lirit stumbled across the tracks of a great deer. He followed this trail carefully, unaware that it had been laid for him by Fate. It wound through the trees, leading Lirit deeper and deeper into the forest until he was abruptly dumped out into a meadow and the tracks ceased.

Annoyed, Lirit was about to turn back when he heard a strange, beautiful sound. It was like a breeze,  a brook, and a sparrow, all in one and it tugged at his very soul. Turning in a slow circle Lirit peered across the meadow and through the trees for the source of this sound.

There, crouched down in the tall summer grass, a child.

Lirit approached slowly, cautiously, so that he would not alert the child of his presence. She was crouched on her knees, long blonde braids brushing the ground, and…talking flowers into being. No not talking, the noises that spilled from her lips were like water, far more beautiful than talking.

A sudden realization struck Lirit so hard he actually lost his balance and fell over. That was no ordinary child, it was Avia, the child of spring. Hearing Lirit fall she stood and spun around, catching him in her green gaze.

“Who are you?”

“Lirit, M’la…dy…majesty…your honor.” Lirit blushed, how was one supposed to address the Gods?

“Avia.”

Oh. “Avia,” Lirit confirmed, nodding.

“You were spying.”

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help myself. Those sounds you were making, they were so captivating. What was that, if I may ask?”

Avia looked nervous, almost stricken, “Singing.”

“Singing,” Lirit approached the little Goddess slowly, reverently, “Would you, could you, teach me singing?”

Avia’s eyes widened in outright panic, “I can’t, you mustn’t know music. Mother will be furious if she knows you heard. Man mustn’t know.”

“But why?”

“I’m sorry,” and she was gone, leaving in her wake a dusting of daisy petals.

Lirit stared at the spot where the tiny Goddess had once been, debating what to do. Duty called him to return to the woods and pick up the trail of the deer, but that sound of the child singing had awoken something dormant within Lirit. He couldn’t just forget what he had heard.

A skylark flew overhead, singing to the sun.

As a child Lirit’s father had told him stories of how the Gods lived in the great mountains beyond Malsor. Standing tall Lirit turned east, using the sun as his compass, and set off towards the mountains. So the Gods wouldn’t give man this music, Lirit would steal it.

The journey to the Gods’ mountains took many days, but Fate cared for Lirit the entire way. She set easy game before him, and ran brooks by his side. No foul creature bothered him and her magic shielded him from the Gods’ watchful eyes.

When Lirit reached the mountains he was taken aback by their great might. Yet though they seemed unyielding, Lirit pressed on, the thought of music driving every step. For six days Lirit climbed the tallest of the mountains, and on the seventh he reached a great door, its frame decorated with carvings of the history of the Gods. He had arrived.

Fortunately, or perhaps, fatefully, the door had been left ajar just wide enough for a gangly teen to squeeze through. Just wide enough for Lirit.

Inside the mountain Lirit discovered that the Gods were having a feast at a great table, celebrating their power. Lirit watched from the shadows as they ate, drank, and were merry. When the Gods had finished their feast each picked up a strange tool. Some looked like polished sticks, others were collections of taunt strings, and others were like barrels topped with hide. After each of the Gods had their own peculiar tool the Ais nodded and they began to play.

Avia’s pretty song was no match for what Lirit heard now. Hidden in the shadows he was treated to a concert the likes of which only the Gods could hold. Their song was rapturous, it captured Lirit and through it he lived life a thousand times over, from the universe’s conception, to its end. In that song he knew every emotion, every experience man could know and he reveled in them all, whether pleasant or foul. He watched the Gods carefully as he listened, studying how each controlled his tool.

As the Gods’ enchanting concert dwindled Lirit was filled with a renewed determination to bring the gift of music back to his people. So he waited patiently in his hiding spot, though his legs began to cramp and his stomach bite with hunger, until night fell and the Gods retired to their chambers. When Lirit was certain that all were asleep he began to creep through the fortress, going from bedroom to bedroom stealing the Gods’ instruments. Fate assisted Lirit, making each instrument so tiny when he picked it up that he could slip it onto his necklace as a charm.

It was just as the sun was beginning to rise that Lirit retrieved the last instrument, the pipes of Yanisee, the Spirit of Death. Yanisee slept with her pipes held fast to her chest. Picking up a book from a nearby desk Lirit carefully switched it for the instrument. Yet Yanisee awoke promptly, sensing that her precious pipes had been stolen.

Few had come face to face with Yanisee and survived to tell the tale. Lirit wasn’t about to stick around to learn first hand what happened to those who crossed the Goddess.

Yanisee raised the alarm as Lirit raced from the fortress, pipes clutched tightly in his hand. Immediately each of the Gods woke and pursued the audacious thief. Yet again Fate intervened on Lirit’s behalf, setting out obstacle after obstacle to slow their chase.

The race back to Lirit’s village seemed to last but an hour at most, the boy covering days of land in mere minutes. He tore out of Malsor at full speed, and his heart leapt at the sight of his own house, only a mile away. Yet a hand suddenly grabbed him from behind and Lirit was pulled to a stop. Turning round he found himself face to face with Ais, the great goddess herself. His heart iced with fear.

“You have committed a heinous deed unparalleled in wickedness. You have stolen from the Gods; you have taken our music, the very foundation of our power.” The Goddess’s eyes erupted with anger.

“I’m…sorry?” Lirit whispered.

“Can you even fathom the consequence of what you have done?”

“There is none…”

From out of the wind stepped a tall figure, cloaked in mist. The Ais fell into a deep bow. For a moment Lirit looked from the Goddess to the strange figure, then he too knelt.

“You could punish the boy with the greatest anguish you can inflict, but it is already too late. Man has discovered music, there is nothing you could do to the boy that could eradicate that knowledge. Knowledge transcends life. Let the boy be.”

“As Fate wishes.”

Lirit was looking from one divine being to another so quickly he was beginning to feel faint.

“So, I’m not going to die?”

Though Lirit couldn’t see Fate’s face within her hood, he had the distinct impression that she was smiling.

“Go to your mother boy, she has missed you greatly. Teach all you know what you have discovered. Man will cause no harm in his possession of music.”

Grinning, the boy stood and took off for his home. When he reached the front yard he found his mother and sisters waiting, arms outstretched. Greatly relieved that they had not lost Lirit to the evils of Malsor they wrapped him in hugs and covered him with kisses.

“You’re in big twouble Lyre,” said his smallest sister sternly, “You had mama so wuh-wied.”

Since Leonore is utterly hopeless with helping with personal problems people may face, there is usually a designated “helper” in each district of the city. They can deal with a wide variety of problems dealing from “My kids won’t listen to me!“ and “Why is my friend mad at me?” to life-threatening injuries or two magic people fighting which can cause a large amount of damage. 

The original group of people refused to worship Leonore and the title used was Helper. There were no requirements and it was during a time when only a few people had medical or mental health training. However, early during the city’s formation there were several violent riots. Leonore took certain measures and changes were made. Helpers are now known as Priests/Priestesses, even if that doesn't accurately describe their job, and fulfill an additional religious role with worshipping Leonore.

Seems the usual thing is to refer to canon Undertale Sans as being from the Alpha/main timeline, and having other Sans-es refer to him as “Sans” “UT Sans” or “Classic Sans.” This has been bugging me for a while, since why would any Sans believe that specific Sans is the original universe? Wouldn’t they either have no idea which is the original universe or not even consider that?