Allamattre and Pelor: An Old Woman's Tale
The Gods of Origin -- A Piece of Lost History
It is said that once, there was only the still embrace of Nothingness. It was calm, and quiet, and safe, but also joyless, lifeless, and cold. And so Nothingness remained, sleeping eternally… until something mysterious happened. A spark, borne somehow of Nothingness, came alight. A raging inferno; it burst into existence with such a fervor that it quickly began to consume itself, and so Nothingness finally awoke and sprang to its aide.
Covering the spark like a blanket, she decanted his excess energy into herself, creating the cosmos all around us. Naming her flame-child Pelor; she took on the mantle Allamattre and together they harnessed the spark to create life on the planet, naming their home Fuin a Galad. Here the mortal peoples thrived under their radiant daylight and velvet nightimes. Over and over, the millennia fell away. Pelor and Allaamatre reigned fairly until their human people became so prosperous, they forgot the importance of their creators.
It is said the dishonourable human Ssyab of Valinor was responsible for the Snuffing Of the Sun, a period lost to our history as the fabric of creation fell into disarray. When things finally reassembled, they were different. Corrupted. Pelor and Allamattre had been forced apart, and could not muster the strength to reunite. Trapped now in an eternal push and pull that keeps them from each other, Allamattre’s Essence became a beacon in the sky as the moon while Pelor’s took to the heavens with his flame. The rest of their fragments had twisted and reformed themselves into warped versions of gods. Weaker of spirit then their forbearers, these new gods were cruel and capricious. Forming their own mortal races they fought endlessly in the War of the Great Divide and the mortal souls all suffered.
Their ire faded in time, and the gods began to seek to best each other through other means. And so the dwarves were born; a new sort of mortal more steadfast and clever than humans. Next came the elves, graceful and near-eternal, a true masterwork of creation. Darker fragments, doomed by the fall, created the infernals and splitting Fuin a Galad into layers known as Planes. More and more they created, until they upset the balance once more and the world shifted. The continent of Valinor was dumped onto the material plane, trapping many of the lesser gods along with Allamatre and Pelor’s essences. Their energy too great to contain to the skies, it began to seep into the earth itself.
As the mortal races became accustomed to life on the material plane, they began to seep up this energy as it bore tunnels known as leylines, veins of pure chaotic primal energy; untameable, immutable. Learning to harness this energy, the peoples of Valinor called it magic.
Life was prosperous again, though never as glorious as it was before the Snuffing of the Sun. Allamatre and Pelor were worshipped still by the mortals, known as All-Mother and Holy Father, their piety lending the dieties some measure of strength again. All-Mother’s cloak of darkness carries with it a cool healing touch, and she protects her dear children through the darkness of her night as she sends them sweet dreams of Nothingness. Holy Father’s mighty flame empowers those he touches, his eternally hungry flames yearning to consume, expand and grow. The Holy Father’s adored sons carry his power with them, and through them he fuels his flames. They dance in a cycle of power that crushes the less ambitious. As a result, the gentler children who preferred the All-Mother’s embrace became nearly snuffed from the face of Valinor. Her healing touch nearly forgotten, it is only in recent centuries that the mortals have begun to remember her. Slowly she is regaining strength, waiting for her moment to restore the balance between Nothingness and The Great Flame.