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In the Southern Kingdoms, the old gods hold court.
These are not the gods of creation, but rather, the gods of destruction. Those who worship at the feet (if they even HAVE feet) of these gods have no pity. The have no mercy. They have no love. They just have a thirst…for power. For madness. For death.
It wasn’t always thus; in the before-times, the people of the South carried knowledge in their hearts and love in their souls. The feast days to Myn and Syn, the siblings, were celebrated in every home, temple and castle. “Good luck be with you!” was heard from the highest tower to the lowliest cellar. Myn was there on cat’s paws and Syn was there, too. Together forever, but always apart. One of the flesh, one of the soul; one of intellect, one of emotions; one of a kind, two of a pair.
Into this land came an usurper to power, and through him, the gateways were opened and the elder gods slipped their bonds and took their vengeance on the people, the lands and those who had imprisoned them. For millenia they wailed and plotted and watched and waited…here is one that can help us, there is one that is weak, that is one that has courage, that is one who is meek. Bring them all! Fill them with hollow promises! String the puppets one by one until finally…freedom!
Freedom for them.
Slavery for us.
But Myn and Syn did not disappear from the South. They hid. Syn was the brightest of gods; his was the focus. Myn was the nimblest of gods; hers was the action. Now to hide, now to sneak, now to reason, now to creep. And creep they did, into the hearts, minds and souls of the devoted. The devoted hid their ways. They learned to sneak their offerings. They reasoned ways around the new rules. And they crept along, worshipping, joining, staying together but forever apart, until they can return in glory.
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The Not Quite So Far Back-story:
Zyf was raised in a merchant’s home. His parent’s were artisans who worked metal and gems into beautiful pieces, but try as they might to teach the boy, none of their lessons would stick. His mind always wandered and his hands fumbled the knife or the chisel. Kind, loving, but not skilled, Zyf would find no career as a sculptor or jeweler or stone mason.
One day, a fellow dwarf came by the shop and showed the family a book he had bound with the finest leather. The calf-skin was smooth and soft and rather than ‘cover’ the book, it appeared more like the skin caressed the pages. It was as fine a treasure as Zyf had ever seen. The owner asked Zyf’s parents to create some gold filagree to adorn the cover and they immediately got to work measuring, hammering, smelting, working the soft metal into an intricate design that would not only enhance the cover of the book, but provide some protection for its contents.
But, what were those contents? Zyf could not contain himself and snuck into his parents workshop to examine the book. Inside were the stories of the siblings, Syn and Myn. This was a book about blasphemy! These were gods that were no longer gods! This was an outrage and a crime! The magistrate should know about this immediately, but rather than run to the local authorities, something deep within him compelled Zyf to read the book. Syn was more than just a god of intelligence, he was bawdy and randy and full of life. Myn was more than just a simple cat-goddess; she was the epitome of curiosity and travel. These were gods, but they were also persecuted and their stories leapt off the page and landed in Zyf’s heart.
When he was done with the book, his life had been changed. No longer a boy with wandering mind. Zyf had the focus now, the calling. Finding others to share these tales with became his obsession and although Myn is the goddess of luck, every now and then the dice do not come up in her favor, thus it was with Zyf, too.
While strolling through one of the port cities, a procession of horses pounded up the street clearing everyone out of the way for a high priestess. A small child was knocked down by a charging stallion and Zyf ran over to pull the child out of the road. Once they were sheltered by a narrow alley way, Zyf assessed the injuries of the child and immediately cast a minor healing spell in order to prevent loss of life. Unfortunately, at that very moment, the high priestess was just passing by and heard the spell being cast. Halting her procession, she called for the dwarf to be arrested on the spot and taken into custody. Just then, Zyf’s luck changed again and the crowd surged forward cutting off the alley entrance from the approaching acolytes. Scooping the child up in his arms, Zyf ran out the other side of the alley. The child directed him to a safe place near the port and they hid the rest of the afternoon. That night, using back streets and alleyways, Zyf made his way back to his inn room where he gathered his gear and possessions.
He was last seen headed towards the harbor.
A dwarf from the Southern Empire. As a priest of Myn he is on the run from The Culling.
Read of Zyf’s adventures in his own words!
Zyf’s Dream: Myn’s Visit
