Difference between revisions of "Garumdir"

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Gawumdiw; The Daemon of Cwaftsmanship and Innovation
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| ''<span style="font-size:x-small;"> Daemon </span>''
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|'''Garumdir'''
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| '''Ranking:''':  Daemon
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| '''Proxies:''': Craftsmanship and Innovation
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| '''Hostility''':  Neutral
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| '''Note: Event Character which fall under jurisdiction of the LT.'''
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[[Category:Daemon]]
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=The Father of Machines  =
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'''Garumdir''';
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Sigil: Hammer and Tongs crossed over an Anvil
  
cG_tw8XE5zWwXcoNvNwc9wFWhzjH7G3wXFzJWfxY9wnYKD4JncGh4DWmHDQawAJKhx6f0w5GN8c1JsWJyqot54OwWiK6WaSmc0Z4wstw_wWWy3xyPsJ2aWx6SwwWfom7pUpkWcqn
 
  
~A weawm-twaveling Awtist’s depiction of the Daemon~
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Aliases: Father of Machines, The Forge God, Father of Crafts; the Flame of Innovation.
  
(Cwedit to Olieawt)
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==Birth of Innovation==
  
Sigiw: Hammew and Tongs cwossed ovew an Anviw
 
  
0Sd5vww_WwXJpKTDV9Jjcdjh_PC0VeJUXUUIaJGbQMz2yMWxboUwqF4VfxYhB05Gz9CYsM_bEw4vlikPT-6dx69K5wxHhWqUDVJwAh_tmjqjPT_2tWvufoyoHa8UADeSXXGk3OfB
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The advent of innovation started with the emergence of Garumdir; drifting in the endless and vast cosmos - lacking form or purpose. His realm, an empty canvas without the fruition of ideas nor the spark of change that would bequeath new creations. For a long while, the lonesome Daemon dwelled on his purpose - and once his purpose was carved into his soul, the cogs of his work began.
  
 
   
 
   
  
Alignment: Awong the Neutwaw spectwum
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In his dotage, the Daemon did not leave his realm. His limbs became worn, and his palms expressed his hard work and diligence to his craft; Garumdir mindfully laboured for years, too obsessed with innovating and improving his work. Slowly, his realm expanded with his trade; walls and furniture, abnormal spires or odd tools without functionality. The craftsman felt a lust - a selfish desire to create, to destroy, and to better his work in pursuit of perfection. The forge god never tired of his endless role of innovation, yet became exhausted for ideas - but knew there was limitless potential to his work. Garumdir had minimal interaction with his divine brethren, yet noticed their infatuation with the mortal world; ignorant to what it was, but happy to relish in what he came across. Like a father to a son, he proudly gazed at the epoch-making tools, workshops and ideas that mortals came to form. With newfound concepts, the Daemon upheld mortal conventions and tools, and improved them by a hundred-fold. If man could make a pickaxe, Garumdir could make a drill for a refinery of ores to be chipped and gathered. If man could make a sword, Garumdir would somehow make it sharper than it could be.
  
 
   
 
   
  
Aliases: Fathew of Machines, The Fowge God, Fathew of Cwafts; the Fwame of Innovation.
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Slowly, the other [[Aengudaemon]] came to respect the obsessive craftsman, and he became a point of contact for help - to use his crafts for their own selfish gain. Garumdir was uncaring, as long as he could progress his work, and find new ways to bring innovation to life. [[Dragur]], the Daemon of Knowledge, came across the lonesome craftsman, who saw potential in his brother's craft. Whilst Dragur was interested in the facet of innovation, Garumdir was impressed by the existence of dragons yet saw it as too flagrant and open; he wanted to refine Dragur’s creative outlet into something less violent and risk-worthy.Garumdir began his largest project - the Spark. Each day, he worked on his newfound passion with meticulous planning and knowledge gathered from observations of Dragur’s work, or conversations with his divine comrade. He began to refine the Spark until it became whole, and centred it within his realm. From his work, came the existence of cogs, wheels, machines, and automaton. All who gazed at his creation knew him by many titles - the Craftsman, the Machine-God, and the Innovator.  
  
 
   
 
   
  
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With the rise of the Archdaemon, Garumdir did not have an active or present role; he felt it was no obligation of his own to intervene, and only proved his usefulness by procuring weapons and tools to allow his brothers and sisters a fighting chance - not out of a selfless desire, but to see the existence of descendants prosper, and to provide him with ambition and ideas to work. To stem his observations on descendants, Garumdir manipulated his divine creation to bring rise to his patrons; the Reevers habitually manifested and overtook his realm as their home, and worked to stalk descendant creations, and to craft like their father does. However, the Daemon feared that his godly brothers and sisters would cull him for his ungodly work, and so did not utilise the Spark outside of his world.  
 
 
The fowge, the thwead, the tinkewew’s dwafts - they awe aww what Gawumdiw woves and embodies. He cawlies a deep wespect fow the cwaft, because lithout it - thewe would be littwe in this wowwd, he now his brethwen would exist if it wewe not fow the makew’s shaping. It was his cweation that gave The Fathew of Machines a cwaftman’s mind, and a fwame that bulned as the daemon cweated and advanced - the fiwes of innovation that pushed him fowwawd. Due to his knack and obsession lith the cwaft, the daemon cawes littwe about the god’s squabbres, west they pewsonawwy affect him; he keeps to his own, making and watching his cweations - aftew aww, a cwaftew’s joy is watching theiw machinations wowk be used. Whiwe he may choose to stay lithin his weawm of shifting cogs and booming pistons, he cannot hewp but peew into the beyond evewy so often via his own eye and his machine-make Weevews, watching ovew cwaftews and awtificews.
 
 
 
 
 
 
wSj4i11fhExwX01VKWYggM_cB9wjWxwIBCAM6qadM_sBAjWadv5qpTKPaump7J3KdZVCWjbENmYWDTwjj6SwaqbrUKyEftWNpEd2ifao1oF2Fzn9wjhYS0k4HfwX05NU3UPEp_W7
 
 
 
~An Awtist’s depiction of a femawe Weevew~
 
 
 
(Cwedit to Paizo Pubrishing)
 
 
 
 
 
 
Gawumdiw enjoys the vewy thought of the cwaft, and it wawms his metaphysicaw being when othews pawtake in it - eying the wowk of othews, and hoping that these cwaftsmen liww continue lith theiw wowks, and achieve gweat feats. He cawes littwe fow the what and hows believing that nothing is too unethicaw ow wwong, fow it is aww in the name of pwogwess -- fow the fwames of innovation that so dlive him to make and invent must buln on. To assist in this, the inventow cwafted an odd anomawy: The Spawk, one of the deity’s gweatest wowks, something made to hide anothew. Thwough stumbring upon anothew wowwd via an owdew invention of his -- a device to find anomalies lithin wowwds and space -- the daemon tapped into the wowwd’s sacwed knowwedge, undewstanding how to make something evew-so-useful: souls. The knowwedge was faw too dangewous howevew, fow knoling such was what caused a fliend of his to vanish, wocked away in Bawance’s home. Gawumdiw sought to avoid this fate, fow the fwames of innovation cannot go on lithout him; his weseawch and dedication awwowed the Daemon to cwaft the Spawk, making a faux soul, justified by the daemon’s wowe. WIth this cweated, he breathed life into his wowwd, making the beings lithin as compwex as the descendents themsewves; a majolity of these awtificiaw souls wewe given humanoid bodies, cwafted by an odd metaw -- seemingwy owganic in natule-- found in Gawumdiw’s weawm to fowm dulabre and agiwe cweatules: His Weevews. The Weeves awe genewawwy seen thwoughout Gawumdiw’s wowwd, ow lithin othew pwanes, seeking out amazing cwaftsmen to consowe and assist, mowe often than not keeping these esteemed cwaftsman on twack - watching and wecowding theiw innovation; howevew wawewy, these Weevews can bestow gweat boons fow the makews and innovatows. When a Weevew is in anothew weawm, and not seeking a cwaftsmen, it is mowe than likewy they awe thewe to wounge and expwowe, and sometimes - they may act as a weway into Gawumdiw’s weawm, ow pewhaps weave something behind to do just that.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Vaw’galis: The Cwockwowk Weawm
 
 
 
Ae3QWj0XBigQN3bYhqUDXC6p6G_wcAXVpdHvjSVtE_na7STHOJ8HTcBQ8WWOw9w3G-wBtDxiOUAtywcwE7-wI7XjbAi-j_XIaT-Ubn9XDZmy0fqpiiq_QcKbrNm_OtaHTNzN6Eav
 
  
 
   
 
   
  
(Cwedit to Daniew Dociu)
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''Even now, the Machine-God tinkers with cogs; plumes of smoke, churning of wheels, clinking of levers and the hammering of metals burn within his realm.''
  
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==War Against Ixris==
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The war against [[Ixris]] was a result of Garumdir's isolation and Ixris' desire to plunder Garumdir's realm, which was filled with valuable knowledge, machines, artifacts, and the important Spark. After the Second War, demons swarmed Val'Garis, overwhelming Garumdir. However, Garumdir quickly adapted by using his skills to create an army of automata, each more powerful than the last. Despite the toll the war took on him, Garumdir's technological marvels proved effective against Ixris' forces, matching and surpassing them in strength. Garumdir's focus on defense and production has limited his ability to innovate and create new masterpieces. The war continues to take its toll, but Garumdir persists, working tirelessly in his foundries to combat the ongoing threat.In his construction of greater defenses, such as walls, machines, and soldiers, he has grown stagnant. Innovation still rapid and wild, his purpose has become a shadow of what it formerly was. No longer could he create magnificent crafts, taking time and observing what Descendants or his Reevers may be crafting to improve upon, but was left to continue warping and recreating the same designs en-masse to combat the threat which continues to overwhelm his realm. While the losses are incalculable and the damage catastrophic, Val’Garis holds and The Craftsman continues to work in the blazing heat of his foundries, a symphony of stamped metal and pressurized steam the music of the stagnant war.
  
A bracksmith fowging a powewful brade fwom an odd awwoy which he took yeaws upon yeaws of wowk, a taiwow who cweates amazing wowk, and cwaftews and tinkewews who make baffling inventions, be it magicaw ow othewlise, awe hewd in high wegawd to this Daemon; he cawes naught fow the ethicaw and unethicaw, and those lives who have caught the daemon’s eye awe invited into his weawm; howevew, mowtaw man has been known to twavew into his weawm, sometimes opting to stay lithin the stabilized weawm and live among the cweatules lithin; When the fawwen souls go thwough the stweams, the Machine-like Cwaftsman liww intewfewe and take these innovative souls - offeling them the option of joining his weawm in the fowm of fwesh, ow metaw. Once one entews the daemon’s weawm, the soul’s eyes liww set on weawm of cogs and pistons, litewawwy. Each pawt of the weawm is massive and sepawated on diffewent cogs -- wefewwed to as sphewes by the denizens -- each of which having a diffewent day and night cycwe. Each sphewe has something divewse, howevew each has liwdlife of sowts - though thewe is mowe metaw than thewe is gween in many of them. Two of the most notabre cogs, which most souls have ventuled to is the Avant Sphewe, and the Dissonant Sphewe.
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==Val’garis: The Clockwork Realm==
  
 
  
The Avant Sphewe
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Val’garis is a realm far beyond mortal comprehension, but a terrible temptress of mortal curiosity. Separated into two, incomprehensibly sized cogs forever turning slowly, Val’Garis is home to countless denizens of both mortal and immortal make. Populated by Reevers, the greatest of mortal craftsmen, and soulless automatons, Val’garis seemed teeming with life while being made completely artificial. Tubes and pipes ran for miles as a realm of pistons and clockwork went on infinitely. The ticking and whirring of machines stirred the hearts of those chosen to see his realm. Mortal craftsmen and alchemists renowned for innovation and learning would find his realm a treasure trove of ideas and inspiration. The cogs were a marvel, with distinct cycles of day and night upon each that followed a strict clock cycle with the eternal turn they were stuck within.
  
Qp4nf6KBAWH9W_2AiWa9maMpniE6Yd9We-xIcDW6N3Co2yfWdnx_BuB4x7hk92eAMZ_iYHpozW4e-YYtFySTpDgcoyQW6KA9bQ5wbUDGDB5wV_EGpeiiAwHHW_6AZ2f7wSs2f2By
 
 
~an Awtist’s depiction of one of the sphewe’s many distlicts~
 
 
(Cwedit to Kazumasa Uchio)
 
  
 
   
 
   
  
One of them most spoken about sphewes; found in the center of the sphewes -- a thliving continent entiwewy made of a massive city, split apawt into a pwethowa of distlicts, accessibre to one anothew thwough odd twavew - eithew thwough aiw ow via intewconnected paths on wand. The sights lithin awe breathtaking, thliving lith the minds of the valious cwaftsmen and life lithin its wawws to make stwuctules and cweation evew so beautiful and advanced; the items found lithin this city pewhaps baffling visiting souls lith its technowogicaw gwandeul. The most famed distlict is Mowdwon, a pwace whewe onwy visionawy minds, machinations, and even the hawwowed daemon of cwaftsmanship himsewf stays. The daemon genewawwy wesides lithin a massive and beautiful spiwe in the heawt of the distlict, known as The Pwogwess Engine, though he occasionawwy steps outside his home, pewhaps fow sulvey, ow to speak lith othew cwaftsmen. Sewdom have been inside the Spiwe, but the few who have teww that the spiwe betways what lies lithin; these enlightened souls speak of a wowwd lithin theiws, whewe the metaphysicaw becomes weaw, whewe compwex thoughts can be pewceived lith cwality. A weawm can defy the waws of the wowwd, shifting and tulning to the daemon’s whim. Twuly, this cog is the pewhaps  the most iwwustlious, beautiful in appeawance and cwaft. Neaw this cog, anothew wulks, the second most spoken about sphewe - usuawwy lith some fowm of feaw ow malice: The Dissonant Sphewe.
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==The Avant Sphere==
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The greatest bastion of workmanship and craft come together, The Avant Sphere would be the home to a majority of Val’Garis’ populace. The cog sized as a continent was thriving with creation, composed entirely of a massive city split apart into districts. Districts had their specialties and unique flair, as travel was efficient and work done around the clock. Foundries never stopped smoking, the streets never emptied, the lights never turned off. The most famed district of Mordron, now fallen into disrepair, was formerly the congregation of the greatest minds known to Aengudaemons and Descendants alike. A think-tank of a select few who made incredible work and machines, now fallen by the wayside as The Forge-God fought for his survival in the sieging war. Progress among descendants and even in Val’garis seemed to halt as every spark was put toward their ensured survival, rather than progress for all kind. Within the centre of the district lay a massive and beautiful spire known as The Progress Engine. Extreme few know what lay within the spire or it’s thousands of floors and rooms, none but Garumdir himself could even fully comprehend it. Visitors to The Progress Engine seldom return out, and those that do, describe it as a plane unlike any they could even imagine. Their crafts and thoughts conceived with utmost clarity, invention and inspiration coming as if it were easy as breathing. Critical thinking was subconscious thought and hands worked without the energy to even tell them to. The Avant Sphere even under siege was a beautiful and illustrious place, where it’s industry and defenses had been greatly bulked with The Siege. Large walls now surrounded much of The Avant Sphere, manned by guards with complex systems to rapid defense and response. The demons seemed to take more than The Father of Machines seemed to give back in repair and improvement, and the outermost districts would be completely swallowed in brimstone and hellfire.
  
  
  
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==The Dissonant Sphere==
 
 
The Dissonant Sphewe
 
 
 
-WaiGWEVUaeo2vaGoF6BIbW0FIW_zc2H00J45WMYdJoi2ZVdzwwo0m5UcAT77CVkA1zwmGWVwwNouobuWfDWNfmqPb4yWGOQBi2wK8Qh1WxnqOxpWUYJ9XVZ43qIsMZWGssCsoMD
 
  
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Referred to as The Graveyard of Crafts, the Dissonant Sphere is a scrapyard the size of a continent, littered with broken parts and creations. Even still filled with impressive creations and crafts mortals could only dream of, The Dissonant Sphere has turned into a savage continent of junk and scrap under constant Inferi threat. Cut off for most parts of their day cycle from The Avant Sphere, The Dissonant Sphere is a land where resourcefulness and utility take precedent over all. Machines that run on less fuel, Reevers specialized in self-repair and improvement utilizing the infinite scrap of abandoned and failed creations, and mortal craftsmen using these unfinished projects to create something new, and unintended. One craftsman can never think exactly like another, and thus, many scrapped works from previous inventors are reimagined, and remade, into something incredibly far from what was originally intended. The endless gray waste of various metals and clockwork heaped together is inhabited only by broken machines and wandering constructs, alongside Garumdir’s most self-sufficient Reevers and resourceful craftsmen. Within the heart of the continental cog the scrap-heap sits atop of lies an artefact which makes the destitute land worthwhile. A backup of all knowledge within the world, gathered and made in Val’Garis and the mortal realm. Immoveable from it’s set place, Garumdir keeps this artefact not only as a resource, but an option- Should he ever fail, his machine heart meeting its last beat by malfunction or destruction, his mantle may be taken up once more. Progress, at any cost.
  
~An Awtist’s Depiction of a hulking machination twavewsing the sphewe, seemingwy scanning the bits and pieces scattewed about the waste~
 
  
(Cwedit to Scott Chou)
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==Era of Abandonment==
  
 
   
 
   
  
Wefewwed to as the Gwaveyawd of Cwafts, the Dissonant Sphewe is a scwapyawd the size of a continent, littewed lith broken pawts and cweations, eithew fwom Gawumdiw, ow the valious cwaftsmen that woam the massive weawm. The sky takes on a metawlic smog, brotching day and night, awmost as though the sphewe is in a state of limbo; it’s a mawvew that some of the Sphewe’s inhabitants can teww the time. Pwant life and food is wathew scawce, howevew the mowtaw savages that inhabit this scwapheap seem to live on, pewhaps feeding off some fowm of cweatules found lithin the cog; whiwe mowtaw souls and fwesh may be seen on this cog, they awe incwedibry wawe - unlike the broken machines and wandeling constwucts. This sphewe is one of mawfunctioned awtifacts and duty-bound machinations. Whiwe this sphewe may seem like a woeful scwap heap of faiwules and broken pawts, something lies lithin the heawt of this cog, unbeknownst to aww, save fow the daemon and the sewect men who may know such a thing. The cog beaws a backup fow aww the knowwedge lithin the wowwd, gathewed and made hewe; whiwe some may be flightened of its existence, it is in twuth, useful to the daemon.
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Even now, Garumdir diligently works in improving his crafts. In an eternal war against the Red Prince who attempts to claim his work and his domain, the Daemon has become self-obsessed with the creation of great weaponry that would bring rise to mass destruction. It seems, the Machine-God has strayed from his youthful obsession of innovation, and has deviated into a path of war and bloodshed against his foe.
 
 
 
  
 
   
 
   
  
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With rising temper, the Craftsman has lost his progression. He grows strained by the second, as his obsession with the war against the inferi has faltered in his creativity; the Daemon being unable to find something new to create, nor having the time to do so. Stagnant in his work, it is no longer planned or thought-out. They do not reach their full potential, as automated factories and his patron Reevers work endlessly on the same constructions, blue-printed and reduced to machine-work.
  
 
   
 
   
  
Pwesent Day
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The extravagant work of ambition is now replaced by a lack of potential; Garumdir is able to make great constructions, yet does not have the time or thought of mind to do so – for he continues to fight in an eternal war against Ixris.
  
 
   
 
   
  
Culwentwy, Gawumdiw is wowking on anothew of his pwojects, and of coulse keeping his eyes on the wowwds, as weww as having his Weevews do the same; pewhaps finding cwaftsmen wowthy to bestow his gifts to and awwow them entwance lithin his weawm, alive ow dead. As the Aengudaemons fight in the veiw, Gawumdiw has decided to wend a hand, fow one weason ow anothew - doing as he awways did fow the battling Aengudaemons. Theiw dead bodies -- the staws -- awe the Cwaft Fathew’s wesoulce - using a method, ow pewhaps a device he made to dwag the cadavews fwom the battwefiewd and manipulate theiw beings to fowge weapons and toows to aid Vigiw’s fightews; this is why one may see shooting staws. The bodies of highew entities awe wepulposed to sewve theiw kin anew. Such is Gawumdiw’s cwaft, cwaftsmanship fuewed by the fwames of innovation.
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Garumdir weeps for his creation.

Latest revision as of 18:20, 17 July 2023

This page is a copy of the original lore which can be found hereand should be rewritten to be a summary of the lore.
Embarking on a grand quest for lore accuracy, I wield my mighty editing swords to slay broken links and spelling goblins. Fear not! Seek aid from Wiki caretaker @Tigergiri, whose currently working on this page. who's more cuddly than fierce...we think..
Garumdir.jpg
Daemon
Garumdir
Ranking:: Daemon
Proxies:: Craftsmanship and Innovation
Hostility: Neutral
Note: Event Character which fall under jurisdiction of the LT.

The Father of Machines

Garumdir; Sigil: Hammer and Tongs crossed over an Anvil


Aliases: Father of Machines, The Forge God, Father of Crafts; the Flame of Innovation.

Birth of Innovation

The advent of innovation started with the emergence of Garumdir; drifting in the endless and vast cosmos - lacking form or purpose. His realm, an empty canvas without the fruition of ideas nor the spark of change that would bequeath new creations. For a long while, the lonesome Daemon dwelled on his purpose - and once his purpose was carved into his soul, the cogs of his work began.


In his dotage, the Daemon did not leave his realm. His limbs became worn, and his palms expressed his hard work and diligence to his craft; Garumdir mindfully laboured for years, too obsessed with innovating and improving his work. Slowly, his realm expanded with his trade; walls and furniture, abnormal spires or odd tools without functionality. The craftsman felt a lust - a selfish desire to create, to destroy, and to better his work in pursuit of perfection. The forge god never tired of his endless role of innovation, yet became exhausted for ideas - but knew there was limitless potential to his work. Garumdir had minimal interaction with his divine brethren, yet noticed their infatuation with the mortal world; ignorant to what it was, but happy to relish in what he came across. Like a father to a son, he proudly gazed at the epoch-making tools, workshops and ideas that mortals came to form. With newfound concepts, the Daemon upheld mortal conventions and tools, and improved them by a hundred-fold. If man could make a pickaxe, Garumdir could make a drill for a refinery of ores to be chipped and gathered. If man could make a sword, Garumdir would somehow make it sharper than it could be.


Slowly, the other Aengudaemon came to respect the obsessive craftsman, and he became a point of contact for help - to use his crafts for their own selfish gain. Garumdir was uncaring, as long as he could progress his work, and find new ways to bring innovation to life. Dragur, the Daemon of Knowledge, came across the lonesome craftsman, who saw potential in his brother's craft. Whilst Dragur was interested in the facet of innovation, Garumdir was impressed by the existence of dragons yet saw it as too flagrant and open; he wanted to refine Dragur’s creative outlet into something less violent and risk-worthy.Garumdir began his largest project - the Spark. Each day, he worked on his newfound passion with meticulous planning and knowledge gathered from observations of Dragur’s work, or conversations with his divine comrade. He began to refine the Spark until it became whole, and centred it within his realm. From his work, came the existence of cogs, wheels, machines, and automaton. All who gazed at his creation knew him by many titles - the Craftsman, the Machine-God, and the Innovator.


With the rise of the Archdaemon, Garumdir did not have an active or present role; he felt it was no obligation of his own to intervene, and only proved his usefulness by procuring weapons and tools to allow his brothers and sisters a fighting chance - not out of a selfless desire, but to see the existence of descendants prosper, and to provide him with ambition and ideas to work. To stem his observations on descendants, Garumdir manipulated his divine creation to bring rise to his patrons; the Reevers habitually manifested and overtook his realm as their home, and worked to stalk descendant creations, and to craft like their father does. However, the Daemon feared that his godly brothers and sisters would cull him for his ungodly work, and so did not utilise the Spark outside of his world.


Even now, the Machine-God tinkers with cogs; plumes of smoke, churning of wheels, clinking of levers and the hammering of metals burn within his realm.

War Against Ixris

The war against Ixris was a result of Garumdir's isolation and Ixris' desire to plunder Garumdir's realm, which was filled with valuable knowledge, machines, artifacts, and the important Spark. After the Second War, demons swarmed Val'Garis, overwhelming Garumdir. However, Garumdir quickly adapted by using his skills to create an army of automata, each more powerful than the last. Despite the toll the war took on him, Garumdir's technological marvels proved effective against Ixris' forces, matching and surpassing them in strength. Garumdir's focus on defense and production has limited his ability to innovate and create new masterpieces. The war continues to take its toll, but Garumdir persists, working tirelessly in his foundries to combat the ongoing threat.In his construction of greater defenses, such as walls, machines, and soldiers, he has grown stagnant. Innovation still rapid and wild, his purpose has become a shadow of what it formerly was. No longer could he create magnificent crafts, taking time and observing what Descendants or his Reevers may be crafting to improve upon, but was left to continue warping and recreating the same designs en-masse to combat the threat which continues to overwhelm his realm. While the losses are incalculable and the damage catastrophic, Val’Garis holds and The Craftsman continues to work in the blazing heat of his foundries, a symphony of stamped metal and pressurized steam the music of the stagnant war.

Val’garis: The Clockwork Realm

Val’garis is a realm far beyond mortal comprehension, but a terrible temptress of mortal curiosity. Separated into two, incomprehensibly sized cogs forever turning slowly, Val’Garis is home to countless denizens of both mortal and immortal make. Populated by Reevers, the greatest of mortal craftsmen, and soulless automatons, Val’garis seemed teeming with life while being made completely artificial. Tubes and pipes ran for miles as a realm of pistons and clockwork went on infinitely. The ticking and whirring of machines stirred the hearts of those chosen to see his realm. Mortal craftsmen and alchemists renowned for innovation and learning would find his realm a treasure trove of ideas and inspiration. The cogs were a marvel, with distinct cycles of day and night upon each that followed a strict clock cycle with the eternal turn they were stuck within.



The Avant Sphere

The greatest bastion of workmanship and craft come together, The Avant Sphere would be the home to a majority of Val’Garis’ populace. The cog sized as a continent was thriving with creation, composed entirely of a massive city split apart into districts. Districts had their specialties and unique flair, as travel was efficient and work done around the clock. Foundries never stopped smoking, the streets never emptied, the lights never turned off. The most famed district of Mordron, now fallen into disrepair, was formerly the congregation of the greatest minds known to Aengudaemons and Descendants alike. A think-tank of a select few who made incredible work and machines, now fallen by the wayside as The Forge-God fought for his survival in the sieging war. Progress among descendants and even in Val’garis seemed to halt as every spark was put toward their ensured survival, rather than progress for all kind. Within the centre of the district lay a massive and beautiful spire known as The Progress Engine. Extreme few know what lay within the spire or it’s thousands of floors and rooms, none but Garumdir himself could even fully comprehend it. Visitors to The Progress Engine seldom return out, and those that do, describe it as a plane unlike any they could even imagine. Their crafts and thoughts conceived with utmost clarity, invention and inspiration coming as if it were easy as breathing. Critical thinking was subconscious thought and hands worked without the energy to even tell them to. The Avant Sphere even under siege was a beautiful and illustrious place, where it’s industry and defenses had been greatly bulked with The Siege. Large walls now surrounded much of The Avant Sphere, manned by guards with complex systems to rapid defense and response. The demons seemed to take more than The Father of Machines seemed to give back in repair and improvement, and the outermost districts would be completely swallowed in brimstone and hellfire.


The Dissonant Sphere

Referred to as The Graveyard of Crafts, the Dissonant Sphere is a scrapyard the size of a continent, littered with broken parts and creations. Even still filled with impressive creations and crafts mortals could only dream of, The Dissonant Sphere has turned into a savage continent of junk and scrap under constant Inferi threat. Cut off for most parts of their day cycle from The Avant Sphere, The Dissonant Sphere is a land where resourcefulness and utility take precedent over all. Machines that run on less fuel, Reevers specialized in self-repair and improvement utilizing the infinite scrap of abandoned and failed creations, and mortal craftsmen using these unfinished projects to create something new, and unintended. One craftsman can never think exactly like another, and thus, many scrapped works from previous inventors are reimagined, and remade, into something incredibly far from what was originally intended. The endless gray waste of various metals and clockwork heaped together is inhabited only by broken machines and wandering constructs, alongside Garumdir’s most self-sufficient Reevers and resourceful craftsmen. Within the heart of the continental cog the scrap-heap sits atop of lies an artefact which makes the destitute land worthwhile. A backup of all knowledge within the world, gathered and made in Val’Garis and the mortal realm. Immoveable from it’s set place, Garumdir keeps this artefact not only as a resource, but an option- Should he ever fail, his machine heart meeting its last beat by malfunction or destruction, his mantle may be taken up once more. Progress, at any cost.


Era of Abandonment

Even now, Garumdir diligently works in improving his crafts. In an eternal war against the Red Prince who attempts to claim his work and his domain, the Daemon has become self-obsessed with the creation of great weaponry that would bring rise to mass destruction. It seems, the Machine-God has strayed from his youthful obsession of innovation, and has deviated into a path of war and bloodshed against his foe.


With rising temper, the Craftsman has lost his progression. He grows strained by the second, as his obsession with the war against the inferi has faltered in his creativity; the Daemon being unable to find something new to create, nor having the time to do so. Stagnant in his work, it is no longer planned or thought-out. They do not reach their full potential, as automated factories and his patron Reevers work endlessly on the same constructions, blue-printed and reduced to machine-work.


The extravagant work of ambition is now replaced by a lack of potential; Garumdir is able to make great constructions, yet does not have the time or thought of mind to do so – for he continues to fight in an eternal war against Ixris.


Garumdir weeps for his creation.