12
« on: July 14, 2008, 05:01:55 pm »
Name: Aquil
Spheres: Fate, Learning, Reality
Form: Aquil usually takes the form of a young human with a torn page of parchment scroll, although he has been known to manifest as the the parchment alone.
Rituals: Aquil accepts all prayers in writing. Once a year, he demands his followers refill the Ink-Wells of his temples with a measure of their blood.
Background: The future is predetermined. What is, was, and what is yet to come, will be. There is no alternative.
In the oldest days there was a book, and in this book the course of the worlds was laid out and charted in infinite detail. Their paths through the heavens, their fates and fates of those that called them home.
Once there was a man who was unsatisfied with his lot in life. His family were farmers and had been so for generations. The man grew weary of his arduous labour in the fields of his village and left home, vowing to find something else. His prospects were slim, for there was no learning in his world.
He journeyed for months before coming to the mountain at the centre of his world. He climbed for untold days and eventually reached the top. Resting from his labour, the man looked out at the world laid before his eyes. As majestic as the sight was, his gaze was stolen by something else. Something he had never seen before. A large, square shape of tanned leather, floating in the air, just out of arm's reach.
We today would recognize this as a book, but in the man's time and world, the science of writing was yet to be discovered.
Understanding, somehow, that this thing was the object of his search and travels, the man reached out, standing on tip-toes. As his fingers made contact with leather, he overbalanced, and in fear of tumbling to his death reached out, seeking a purchase.
With a tearing noise, a single page came free from that book and the man plummeted from the mountain.
Broken on the rocks bellow, as the breath left his body, his blood spread across the page, stolen from the heavens at such cost. In spidery trails, by sheer chance or divine intent, the trails of red spelt these words:
"I have touched the Heavens. I am now of gods"
In the Heavens the Gods wrung their hands in frustration, for Another had joined their ranks.