The deities of the World of Arl

The Kingdom of Cadia was rare amongst those nations that opposed Trchkithin during the days of the Trchig Invasions, choosing to combat the might First One's armies and magicks by themselves, too proud to accept others in allies. Though they succeeded in bloodying their enemy's nose on more than one occasion, their arrogance ultimately proved their downfall, as they were outnumbered and eventually overran.
In the early days of the war a call to arms was issued to every able bodied man, and thousands responded, beating pruning hooks into spears and ploughs into swords, until a mighty army was formed. A valuable resource was missed though in this time, that being the willful Cadian women; despite this, dozens, if not hundreds, attempted to join the legion, cutting their hair and stuffing their breeches to remain close to their loved ones, to better serve and protect them. Only a handful of women-at-arms lasted in the army, the majority quickly being found out and sent home to their stoves.
Adyl was one such woman, following her sweetheart to war, her once soft heart hardening, forging its own armour when her lover's blood was splashed across her armour. Taking his sword in hand, she remained in the army, going on to fight in dozens of skirmishes and battles against Trchkithin, cursing the First One's name with every swing of her blade. In all this time no one caught on to her true sexuality, her strength and sense of loyalty turning her into the epitome of the Cadian army.
In a few short years she gained great recognition for her bravery, leaping into the breach and holding the line countless times, and was knighted by her King. Still carrying her dead lover's longsword, hammered and sharpened countless times, she continued to fight the good fight, gaining dozens of minor victories against Trchkithin's war engine, gaining her the favour of her liege.
But with the rise of this young warrior, so too rose political rivals to Adyl, threatened by the titles and priveleges that the Royal house showered upon her. Seeking dark secrets and past indiscretions to blackmail her with, these nobles quickly came upon her one true secret, that she was no man-at-arms at all. It did not take long for them to present their evidence to His Majesty.
Adyl was brought before the king, jeers and insults accompanying the accusations and testimonies in a long and tedious trial, with many traditionalists calling for the knights head. His Majesty merely nodded as his sycophants spouted their self righteousness, eventually raising a hand. With a wry smile on his face, he pronounced her innocent of the many trumped up charges, and returned her sword to her.
It was not long before she was once more on the front lines, her battalions slowly being forced back by Trchkithin herself. In a desperate gamble she led her closest followers in a counterattack, striking hard and fast at Trchkithin's base camp, slaughtering hundreds in their charge. The First One herself answered, entering single combat with the lady knight. Adyl escaped, bloodied and bruised, by the skill of her swordarm and the luck that her soldiers had lacked, each of them cut down to the man.
In an attempt at redemption she sought out a coven of sorcerers, drawing on their magicks to heal her wounds, and returned to stand in the Trchig Army's path, a single figure, her long dead lover's bladein weary hand, ready to face them down. As they approached she called out the First One, demanding a duel for the fate of her beloved kingdom. Trchkithin agreed with a smile, walking towards her foe with her own greatsword in hand, terrifying sorceries wreathing it in multi-hued flames.
The two blades had no chance to meet, Trchkithin merely lifting her sword in one hand and stretching out with the other, opening a dozen tiny rents to some foreign world all around Adyl, tearing her apart. Smiling, she ordered the advance.
But Adyl's tale did not end on that blood soaked killing field. In her many years of service to the crown the common people came to know her name and her story, naming her a saint and a saviour, despite her eventual failings. As Trchkithin's army razed Cadia, their voices cried out to her, the choir of dying prayers tugging at her lost spirit, drawing it back to Arl's world.
Seeing the loss of her homeland, Adyl did nothing so weak as shedding a tear, and instead drew upon her new found power, creating a sword. The knight would ride again.

In the days of Trchkithin's reign, many lay down their lives in the defence of their homes, and more besides lost what innocence they had with the blood of others on their hands. One such woman was Ssai, the ruler of a small nation, that of Tjace, that found itself caught up in the counteroffensive against the Trchig.
The turmoil of war drew Ssai away from those things that she was fond of, dancing, archery, and singing, as well as from her lover, a man who's name has been lost to history. With his mistress attending to ever more grave matters, he slipped away, turning his back on the chosen and choosing a younger, more carefree partner. They passed their days in each other's companies and their nights in one another's arms, an innocent passion in a time of war, like the single rose amongst thorns.
But their love was not to last. Discovering her lover's treachery, Ssai's heart went cold. Taking her bodyguard's blade, she entered the adulterer's room and shed the blood of her young rival, before turning her attention to him. Only those unfortunate enough to retreive the body would know the truth of what she did to him, but his screams and pleading could be heard throughout the chosen's palace that night.
This one event served to twist her once pleasant demeanor, turning her into a creature of darkness. But as one love falls, so another rises, and her heart turned to the thrill she had experienced creeping into that room, weapon in hand. Over the following weeks she allowed her duties to suffer, lesser men and women taking responsibility for their small army's strategies. More blood was spilt as the Trchig forces pushed against them and their allies, until Ssai raised her head once more. She had spent her time and her subject's lives well, turning her natural talent to training until it came out as polished skill, her blades deadly in her hands and more so in her foes' throats.
Trchkithin's forces had little choice but to retreat from Tjace's borders after their chain of command broke down, individuals turning up dead in the most inexplicable of places.
Ssai lent her skills to the alliance that went after the Trchig homeland, slipping unseen through defences to be the knife in the dark while her allies hammered on stone and shield alike. The Trichig were soon left with little, withdrawing into their fortress cities to weather the assault of the besieging Cayim Amiy and their remaining armies.
In the years following Trchkithin’s fall, Chosen and First One alike raced to fill the power vacuum she left behind. Locie was one such individual, a Chosen one of great power who established himself as a warlord in one of the conquered Trchig cities, laying claim to the vast libraries of knowledge left there. In one such tome he found rituals detailing several of Trchkithin’s secrets, sorceries to draw power to oneself.
Having spent days preparing to weave the magicks around himself Locie was fatally interrupted by Ssai, the Chosen having snuck into his new city. Despite the First One’s power and magicks, the brief fight ended with a knife in his throat, and Ssai standing bloodily over him. Several hours passed as she barricaded the library silently, casting her own magical wards all over as she familiarised herself with Locie’s notes.
With the ritual already half-complete, and the knowledge of how to complete it at her fingertips, Ssai plunged her own dagger into her chest, magicks being unleashed all around her as she ascended, abandoning Tjace to fend for itself without a leader.

Many heroes and villains secured their places in history during the Trchig wars, committing great crimes and great acts of kindness to their fellows. One such individual was Orakt, a mighty warrior, unparalleled in the arts of combat even by his fellow First Ones, and both terror and saviour to hundreds, if not thousands.
In the early days, few nations, regardless of their race and creed, was without a First One to lead them. Despite having once had a loyal country of followers, Orakt lost his people; whether he dismissed them wilfully or having had them taken from him by force, no one is sure, though the latter seems absurd.
When the great war came to Arl’s world, Orakt had re-established himself with a loyal army of mercenaries, some ten thousand men all skilled at arms and proficient in magicks, drawn from every land and background, and trained under the First One’s own supervision.
Orakt and his men were late to join in the great alliance, Trchkithin and her armies making headway on every front. He was eventually persuaded to assist after a shadowy meeting with Jaegis, the captive First One guilty at his many deeds. They fought their first battle breaking the siege of a Cayim Amiy fortress, a tactical point commanding a strategically important pass leading deep into allied territory.
His force smashed into the Trchig’s supply line, destroying the reinforcements and turning their supplies and siege weapons to a higher cause. The catapults broke the besiegers’ picket lines, ceasing long enough for Orakt’s horsemen to break through, knocking a hole through the hastily formed infantry line. When the mercenary footmen arrived, the Trchig armies were routed almost immediately, and the siege was broken.
They won a long string of victories over every commander Trchkithin threw at him, whether they met on solid ground, shifting sands, or on rocking ship decks, breaking their foes on any terrain that they were forced to fight upon. Despite their resilience, the Trchig kept advancing, finding that the mercenaries were unable to hold the lines on all fronts, using their superior numbers to choose their battle wisely, breaking allied lines where Orakt was unable to bring his strength to bear.
After a particularly devastating defeat off the coasts of Cardia, an allied kingdom slowly losing to the Trchig and their thralls, the mercenary fleet burning hundreds of Trchkithin’s ships. Infuriated at the losses Orakt kept inflicting upon her men, the great First One turned her attention to the young warrior.
The two First Ones met at the very same fortress where Orakt had originally made a name for himself, breaking the Trchig lines. Finding the Cayim Amiy defenders once again besieged, the mercenaries marched night and day for many miles, their flags and banners coming into sight with the dawn, sending the attackers fleeing at the thought of facing them.
News quickly reached Trchkithin of her foe’s location, and she summoned her guards to herself, a dozen mighty daemons, and walked the paths of sorcery to hunt him down.
As the allies retreated, outnumbered vastly, the mercenaries mounted a rearguard, halting raiders and skirmishers in their tracks; that is, until Trchkithin herself arrived. She broke the mercenary lines with a maul in hand, shields bending and armour rending under her onslaught while those who moved to oppose her were decimated under waves of sorcery. Despite the ferocity of the First One and her daemonic cohorts, no man or woman of any ethnicity fled, each giving their lives and blood in the defence of their allies.
Crying out at the news of his comrades’ deaths, Orakt called for his spear, grasping it on both gauntleted hands, and set out to deal with Trchkithin himself.
His first thrust struck a mighty daemon, a lord in its own realm, splashing inhuman blood over his red tabard as he pulled the spear out again, a high slash opening its throat. Pressing on, he disposed of two more of the creatures before meeting Trchkithin. Mercenary and beast alike fled from the encounter as sorceries erupted, the many wards upon Orakt’s armour deflecting the attack as they closed, spear and maul dancing, sparks flying as the two weapons came to life in their owners’ hands.
The spear splintered in Orakt’s hands against one mighty swing, but a pair of shortsword quickly appear in his hands, taking them from his fallen followers. In a flash, blood spurted from Trchkithin, a blade opening up her pauldron, digging deep. Her retaliatory strike was somewhat more effective.
Flames erupted from the ground, stunning the brave mercenary as the ground shook and opened, dropping him into a chasm, snapping a leg with an unlevel landing. Throwing up every defence he could muster, Trchkithin unleashed her many sorceries, exhausting herself breaking through his shielding before launching a final spell in his direction.
Orakt died as his heart ruptured and his skin peeled, but this was not the end of his tale.
Arl had watched Trchkithin’s armies suffered dozens of setbacks at this young First One’s hands, and so drew upon the many souls unleashed by Orakt’s swordarm, thousands of spirits that had followed this avatar of death that he used to power the mighty rituals he now weaved.
Lifted by his creator as reward for his many deeds, Orakt ascended.

In the earliest days of Arl’s ninth world, he created the First Ones, having seen the Chosen Ones as a failure. Of these, the most famous is Trchkithin, known for her wars, her power, and her vicious followers, but another who’s name survived the tests of time is that of Ldura, a wise, kind man.
Ldura was one to neglect his people, leaving their rule to lesser mortals, while he engrossed himself in books, gathering tomes and manuscripts from all corners of Arl’s world, as well as several others. This disregard for his country’s fate was not on behalf of any evil within him though, he was merely a man for whom people and their relationships held little to no appeal, finding himself escaping into worlds within pages, absorbing knowledge and the wisdom of others, for his power was one of learning, becoming adept at things within a matter of hours, and an expert after days.
Trchkithin coveted his power, attempting to take it for herself, but he thwarted her at every turn in the days before the Trchig wars, learning of her weaknesses and patterns, and of ways to deal with her from ancient tacticians.
While he remained mortal, Ldura was one of Arl’s most favoured First Ones, a true son of the Elder God, and so was blessed. But this was not an unrequited love, for Ldura raised monuments to his father, and strove to be ever like him. In one ancient tome, written by some associate of Arl’s in the days before he himself ascended, Ldura stumbled across some cryptic notes towards the gathering of power, alluding to some comrade who had undergone the preliminary stages in their ascension.
The first step before him, Ldura spent years hunting for further works by the author, until eventually he received word of a book, in the hands of a younger First One. The First One, aware of his wish to possess the book, she demanded outrageous compensation, a price he was unwilling to pay. Returning to his old palace, he mustered his armies, and waged war on the young woman, smashing through her city’s defences and quickly besieged her palace. After months of starvation, the First One offered him the book in return for the lives of those of her people who still lived. Ldura accepted, leaving the fledgling nation in ruin.
Now with two of the books in his hands, Ldura started weaving rituals, power flowing into his body until he stood as a mighty man, the elements themselves bending to his will, but, still, this was not enough.
Following clues that he found while travelling with the young Jaegis, in the years before the Trchig wars, the First One trekked across the world, his bodyguards falling to the wayside as he closed with a small rocky landmass known to the fledgling Cayim Amiy as Arcatmara. Within, he found a single tablet of some stone even he did not recognise. Upon reading the half dozen syllables that he found upon it, the stone crumbled to sand in his hands, and light rushed into his body.
As he ascended, the volcano erupted, coating those that had journeyed with him in burning ash. None who witnessed his rise to godhood would survive to tell the tale to his people...which raises the question, where does this story come from?

Many grieved in the years that followed Trchkithin’s defeat, and many celebrated, but all but the most honourable of those in power raced to seize the remnants of the, now ascended, First One once great empire. Wars were common in this age, as Chosen One clashed with First One and brother fought with brother.
Many innocents lost their family and loved ones at this time, and amongst this multitude was a young, charismatic man called Azmodius, named after his father. A First One, Ozdreux, had brought war to the region in his pursuit of a powerful magical artefact that Trchkithin had gifted to a loyal follower, and one of his campaigns saw the death of Azmodius’ family, his mage cadres razing the town, in which he lived, to the ground.
This single event shaped the young Chosen. Swearing vengeance, Azmodius gathered the survivors of his town into a ragtag militia, and struck at Ozdreux’s supply lines. His few followers suffered greatly, and many were lost, but he successfully commandeered several wagons of arms, equipment, rations and uniforms.
With the news of his small victory, his considerable charisma, and the stolen gear he now brought with him, the number of his followers quickly burgeoned, until he felt he was ready to strike out again. Azmodius led his men in raids and guerrilla strikes against Ozdreux, cutting supply lines, razing frontier villages, and destroying border watchtowers.
Unable to both defend his own lands and lay waste to that of his foes’, Ozdreux retreated, his army seeking to destroy their enemy, now gone to ground. He was unable to find him though, only rumours from villagers about a beast who came in the night and started fires and killed men, for Azmodius had returned home to a hero’s welcome, his exploits and those of his followers having become well known to his countrymen.

Written by Sharyk Lyn-ak
In the years before the Trchig war, a small nation, known as Oplessan, dwelt in the desert that would later come to bear its name. The First One of this nation was known as Soag Chi, a determined, headstrong woman who encouraged her people to be independent. Soag Chi spent little time with her nation, travelling far and wide across the world, and so her people learned to live without her. They governed themselves, but when the war came to them, they were unprepared and without a strong leader.
The Oplessan desert held considerable strategic value for Trchkithin and her armies in western Humyti, for it controlled access to the lands of the Camiy Ayim to the north. Having secured the forests to the south for supply lines, her armies moved into Oplessan, conquering and enslaving the population with relative ease.
When Soag Chi returned from her travels, she found the situation very different to the one she had left. Armies of foreign soldiers patrolled the cities of her people, hunting down any who tried to resist the invasion.
Resistance itself seemed futile, for Trchkithin was determined to secure the region. Her allies brought great contingents from their armies to garrison the area, while men and women from their own nations quickly settled in to ensure complete control.
However, this influx of new citizens provided Soag Chi with an opportunity. She managed to enlist in the Qubik army, and from the moment of her recruitment chaos and fear began to spread throughout the garrison forces.
At first, the crisis seemed relatively confined, food supplies going missing, the occasional barrack burning to the ground, but as Soag Chi worked her way up the command chain, the disruptions became more and more widespread. A pitched battle in the centre of the Oplessan capital between Qubik and Trchkithin forces was traced back to orders for several armed patrols to move through that area, commanded to engage any other force on sight. In the darkness, and without any knowledge of other patrols in the area, the separate forces collided and began to fight.
As the chaos became more and more widespread, rebels amongst the Oplessan became more confident, striking across the nation at their oppressors. Finally, Soag Chi began to organise an insurgency. Her people were armed, supplied by weapon caravans led astray by her orders, and finally they rebelled. The garrisons, short on food, suspicious of their allies, and without enough weapons to equip the men at their disposal, were easily overrun.
It was then that the plan began to go awry. Trchkithin, at the head of her army, was returning a war to the east. She passed through Oplessan, expecting to be resupplied there, but instead found her depots in the hands of rebels. Determined not to make the same mistake twice, the command was given to wipe the pitiful nation from the face of the earth.
Only a handful of men and women survived the slaughter that followed, but amongst them was Soag Chi. They fled to the west, sailing over the horizon, and were never seen again. In that far away place however, Soag Chi met her end, and Ascended to take her place in the pantheon.