Creation of the World
In the first days of the world, the Maker awoke from the darkness and the depths of the endless ocean. It swam for the surface of the ocean and breathed in for the first time, looking around Itself. It surveyed the vastness of the Dark, and It was saddened. The Maker pulled from Its own body a great loom, with which It began to weave.
The Maker first wove a bright disc and hung it in the sky, that there may be Light to banish the Dark. But as the Maker surveyed Its creation, It saw that there was nothing for the Light to fall upon except the ocean, thus It pondered. The Maker then came upon the idea of earth, and wove a great tapestry of stone emerging from the waters. The hard surface was pleasing to It, and It stood upon the earth and decided that the dryness was good.
The Maker then looked above. The Light still shone brightly, but alone it hung in an empty sky. The Maker then wove the stars, the clouds, and the sky, and placed them high above the world. The Light eclipsed the Maker’s stars, thus the Maker wove night, and wove another great disc to rule over it. But still It felt emptiness, and so for much time It sat and It thought.
While It sat, inspiration came to the Maker; Its creation needed things that could grow and spread and cover the landscape. Thus It weaved the living things of the earth, the plants and trees, the beasts, and the birds. It looked out and walked amongst Its creation, and felt peace. The Maker’s peace was short-lived though, for It began to feel unwell. It began to worry, pacing throughout creation, trying to discern Its ailment, to no avail.
The Maker then realized that Its creation needed beings like Itself — those that could think. It took the loom, and wove many beings, though when the Maker looked upon them, It was disgusted by what It had wrought. Thus it wove a great prison for the beasts and beings It deemed unfit for creation, and cast them down below the earth. And to each the Maker said “I cast thee down into ”/campaign/seven-colours/wikis/the-deep" class=“wiki-page-link”> the Deep, that thou may never spoil my creation."
After much time, the Maker wove a creature It deemed worthy of creation. And so It wove bodies, both male and female, and placed them within creation. But though the bodies moved, ate, and breathed like the beasts, they would not think. Thus the Maker took from the Light a bright spark and placed it within each of the bodies It had woven. “I shall name you the Wise Men of Istoríltan, and you shall heal my ailment.”
And so half of the Wise Men began to build a great city, and half of the Wise Men walked with the Maker. For many days and nights they discussed and thought, until Oerscâlín, the eldest of the Istoríltan came to the Maker. He said, “Oh Maker, you are not suffering from an ailment, you are tired and need rest.” The Maker thought on Oerscâlín’s words, and responded “I shall rest when my creation is finished.”
Oerscâlín fathered seven sons and the Wise Men grew and multiplied as the Maker continued Its work, becoming more weary by the day. As the Maker did grow weary, the Wise Men did grow strong, but the Wise Men also grew old. Thus did Oerscâlín approach the Maker, saying “Oh Maker, we are suffering from an ailment, and we need Your assistance.”
The Maker looked upon the elders of the Wise Men and was puzzled. “Are you not simply tired, and require rest?” Oerscâlín shook his head sadly, responding “No, Oh Maker, we are not weary, we are old. All things that live must eventually end, and we must be no exception.” The Maker looked upon Oerscâlín with great sorrow, knowing his words were true. Thus the Maker weaved Death, and sent it upon Istoríltan. And the Maker said “I honor you, Oerscâlín, eldest of the Wise Men of Istoríltan, first to live, and first to die.”
The Maker wept and mourned for Oerscâlín, and thought of Its creation’s wisdom. Though Its creation was yet unfinished, It was becoming too weary to continue Its work. Thus the Maker began preprations for Its slumber.
The Maker wove a great hall of the Light, far out into the seas away from the noise of Its creation, and then constructed a great bed of the Dark upon which to lay. It then wove the Dark into a roiling mist surrounding Its hall to protect itself from all that was impure. As the Maker readied to lie down to rest, thoughts of a final work entered Its mind. And so It took the loom one last time, and gathered the colours to weave. It then took the trunks of seven mighty trees, and reached into the depths of the earth for seven great riches.
The Maker crafted seven staves of the trunks of the mighty trees and the riches It pulled from the earth. It called out to Oerscâlín’s seven sons, “Come unto me, oh sons of Oerscâlín, eldest of the Wise Men of Istoríltan, first to live and first to die, wisest of all men. Great is thy father’s legacy, and great shall be the honor I bestow upon thee.”
From the colour Red and the Light and the winds, the Maker wove the first Wizard. “I shall grant thee the title Nâvaroch, the Red, and thy dominion shall be of fires and of air.” The Maker presented Nâvaroch with a staff of cypress adorned with garnet, and said “I task thou to keep the twelve winds on their appointed paths.” And so the Maker gathered Its materials and began to weave Oerscâlín’s sons into the Wizards to honor his house.
From the colour Green and the earth, the Maker wove the second Wizard. “I shall grant thee the title Kâshildís, the Green, and thy domain shall be of stone and caves and metal.” The Maker presented Kâshildís with a staff of ash adorned with emerald, and said “I task thou to keep the prisoners of the Deep held, and to keep men from breaching its walls.”
From the colour Blue and the oceans and the rivers, the Maker wove the third Wizard. “I shall grant thee the title Oern, the Blue, and thy domain shall be of the waters of the world.” The Maker presented Oern with a staff of willow adorned with sapphire, and said “I task thou to maintain the borders between my creation and the realms beyond.”
From the colour Violet and of the stars and sky, the Maker wove the fourth Wizard. “I shall grant thee the title Amíndur, the Violet, and thy domain shall be of the heavens and of prophesy.” The Maker presented Amíndur with a staff of holly adorned with amethyst, and said “I task thou to order the stars and to bring prophesy to those who must hear it.”
From the colour White and of the blood and seed of living things, the Maker wove the fifth Wizard. “I shall grant thee the title Vestorín, the White, and thy domain shall be all that lives and breathes.” The Maker presented Vestorín with a staff of applewood adorned with diamond, and said “I task thou to champion the cause of life in all corners of my creation.”
From the colour Grey and from the songs of lament over Oerscâlín’s death, the Maker wove the sixth Wizard. “I shall grant thee the title Tashdíl, the Grey, and thy domain shall be the end of all things.” The Maker presented Tashdíl with a staff of elm adorned with quartz, and said “I task thou to bring death at its appointed hour.”
Finally, from the colour Yellow and from the written wisdom of the Istoríltan, the Maker wove the last Wizard. “I shall grant thee the title Sinzarâst, the Gold, and thy domain shall be governance over my creation.” The Maker presented Sinzarâst with a staff of oak adorned with gold, and said “I task thou to offer counsel to thy brothers and order to the lands of men.”
The Maker turned to the Wizards, and said “Go walk my creation with the tasks I have given you. In seven long years, return to my side and wake me, that I may continue my work.” The Maker summoned the last of Its energy to weave the Light into a great boat to ferry the Wizards to Its hall. The Maker named the greatest of all sea craft Mínkrasolast, and presented it to the Wise Men. “In seven long years, when my Wizards are ready to return to me, you shall ready this as the vessel for their travels.”
Thus, the Maker took the body of Oerscâlín across the sea and across the Dark to its great hall, that Its greatest creation would be at peace while It slumbered. Thus the Wizards departed to walk the Maker’s creation.
As the Wizards were making preparations to leave Istoríltan, Sinzârast gathered his brothers and said “At the dawn of each year while we are doing the Maker’s work, we shall meet in one location, that we may take in eachother company and that we may never lose perspective.” All of his brothers agreed this was good, and swore to honor it. With tidings of good fortune, the Wizards all left Istoríltan to follow the Tasks the Maker had given them.
Though all seemed well and good, the seeds of corruption festered within the hearts of the Wizards, but particularly within Sinzârast.
In the fourth year, the power vested unto Sinzârast began to take its toll on his spirit. He began to take more and more control during the yearly moot between the brothers, and started demanding concessions made on his behalf. Finally, in the sixth year, Sinzârast demanded that his brothers swear absolute fealty to him, and the moot disbanded on poor terms. Thus did Sinzârast fall to the sin of Pride.
Amíndur felt troubled over his brother’s madness, and departed creation for the heavens. There he consulted the stars, looking for guidance on how to correct Sinzârast’s failings. But the stars tempted Amíndur with the sights of all that was to be and all that could be, and he had not the will to turn away. Thus did Amíndur fall to the sin of Sloth.
Nâvaroch, troubled by a new emotion he felt at Sinzârast’s fall, departed for Istoríltan to speak to the elders of the Wise Men. The Wise Men, unaware of Sinzârast’s corruption, advised that Nâvaroch follow his brother’s counsel. This advice festered within Nâvaroch, and the new emotion became anger. So great was Nâvaroch’s anger that all of Istoríltan was destroyed in a single day, its buildings razed and its people burning and its lands sinking beneath the waves. Thus did Nâvaroch fall to the sin of Wrath.
The destruction of Istoríltan and the burning of its people reached Oern in his ocean dwelling. He smelled the cooking meat of the Wise Men, and within him rose a terrible hunger. He first devoured the villages of the coast, then the coasts themselves, then islands and finally much of Istoríltan itself. Thus did Oern fall to the sin of Gluttony.
The terror of Oern’s hunger reached all things within creation, but none did it affect as much as Kâshildís. He retreated into the depths of the earth, gathering all of the riches of the Wise Men and of his own finding, and created a great treasure vault of stone and of steel. He released the Arrakesh, the Maker’s most hated creation, from its imprisonment in the Deep and bound it to guard his vault until the end of days. Thus did Kâshildís fall to the sin of Greed.
Elsewhere, Vestorín left the wilderness to champion his cause to the cities of men. Within the city he entered, he looked upon a woman of incredible beauty, and he made himself one with her. The sensation overwhelmed his sense of duty, and he forsook the Maker’s Task to seek out multitudes to lay with. Thus did Vestorín fall to the sin of Lust.
At the final moot, Tashdíl looked upon his brothers and felt sorrow. For all of the other Wizards had found great satisfaction and fulfillment in their sin, but he had found nothing. Thus did Tashdíl fall to the sin of Envy.
The Wizards quarreled with each other upon their final meeting, and continued to quarrel as they walked to the ruins of Istoríltan. There they found Mínkrasolast afloat, and they boarded it. Sinzârast took the helm, and commanded the vessel to ferry them to the Maker’s hall.
Mínkrasolast ferried them into the Dark towards the Maker’s hall, and the light kept the creatures of the Dark at bay. But the Wizards were no longer pure, thus when they sailed into the mists surrounding the Light of the Maker’s hall, they were wracked with pain. Their eyes wept blood, their stomachs were emptied, and their skin erupted into blisters. “What is this treachery?” Sinzârast cried to the heavens, “The Maker has forsaken us!”
And all the Wizards agreed in their misery, until a revelation occured to Amíndur. “My brothers, it is not the Maker who has forsaken us, it is we who have forsaken the Maker.” Thus did the First Wizards come to realize their sin as they lay dying in the mists of the Dark, and their souls depart for creation, ever banished from the Maker’s presence.
The Maker laid slumbering, never to be awoken, and Oerscâlín lay ever at peace.