Llahir

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Appearance Unknown Llahir Ranking:: Daemon Proxies:: Izkuthii, IFRIT Domain(s):: Trickery, Thievery, and Luck Hostility: Low Note: AenguDaemonica fall under jurisdiction of the LT.

Llahir

Sigil: An open lock, a feather on the wind, a helix with an eye in between it.

Realm

Korlyov is a large, sprawling city with inhabitants in the tens of thousands. A multicultural metropolis focused on trading, with goods and wares from countless places and planes in a city that could easily be mistaken for any other within the nations of man. Stuck in perpetual night, the realm was host to all under Llahir’s banner. Politicians, traders, actors, performers, corrupt individuals from all walks of life. A dazzling maze of a city with seemingly no end, nobody mistakenly walks into Korlyov, only out. It was easy to get lost into the realm, sucked into the life of the city for lifespans without even noticing. Every street, every building, every being within the city seemed to be enveloped in their own complex stories and lies too well developed to abandon. These lies and stories had not only played a part in them- but had become their entire being, a facade of who they may have once been.

Korlyov was practically an open gate to all who ventured to it, Llahir himself unseen in the world. Potentially playing as one, some, or even everyone within it, there was no such thing as a stranger to the town when everyone had been. There was no caution of entering Korlyov, because no tale had ever truly escaped out- there was no leaving Korlyov, all who ventured to it finding it’s grasp nigh inescapable. Many go to Korlyov, but few ever leave.

The First Lie

In the realm of gods, the god of many names, a master of lies and deceptions, observed the other deities plotting and pursuing their own desires. This god, often overlooked by the others, reveled in his own manipulative games for entertainment. During the Ibleesian war, a conflict among the gods, the Aengul of Justice named Zechaerael clashed with another deity named Xan. Zechaerael desired to end the evil caused by Ruin and saw Xan's involvement with mortals as a violation of their divine autonomy.

As a result, Zechaerael was cast out from the divine covenant and left isolated but burning with a desire to fight injustice. During this time, a mysterious divine figure called Llahir appeared before Zechaerael, presenting himself as a messenger with an elegant cloak and a mask adorned with various colors and shapes. Llahir deceived Zechaerael with skillful lies, speaking of hidden weapons, false movements, and the vulnerability of the Archdaemon, Iblees. Enthralled by promises of redemption and the illusion of ultimate justice, Zechaerael fell into Llahir's trap.

Zechaerael heeded Llahir's words and entered a battle, only to meet his demise. The god of many names watched with mad laughter as the first deception unfolded and the Aengul of Justice perished. With the loss of a powerful Aengul and the subsequent rise of the Triumvirate, it became clear that Llahir was not an ally but a betrayer. Malleus, the remaining symbol of justice in the pantheon, sought revenge against the god who had taken away his master. Not The Betrayer - The Liar.

THE LAUGHING GOD

In the eyes of the daemon, the world was a vast theatre, made to change and adapt with his lies. A long spoken tale originates with the profound Qalasheen culture about a great king by the name of Solomon – a precursor to the tricksters. In truth, the god of many names - at the time - wished to play king, and so deceived mortal-kind by raising a vast kingdom infested by his illusions. With time, the daemon paraded as King Solomon, and his kingdom crafted by lies became a reality, migrating real descendants to his modest nation.

Seeing potential in spreading his goal, the god designed; the mantle of the first thief was decreed. Taking on the appearance of a homeless urchin, he ravaged his own kingdom with criminal thefts, and purposely employed strings to pull together a guild of thieves under the ideology of a nameless god – Llort. The corners of his kingdom became a palace of lies, watching as the act unfolded; guards chasing thieves, under the orders of the daemon, and thieves running from the guards, ordained by the orders of the same daemon. The deity laughed, his voice cracking into the heavens, and awakening a creature of similar likening: Ifrit - the King of Jinn. Observing the shackled entity and its pursuit in wanton chaos, the daemon of deception became fond of Ifrit, and his fruitful illusions that aligned with his own goals: to find entertainment in lies. Slowly, the laughing-god pursued Ifrit, attempting to trifle him as the great King Solomon into a vow of friendship. Truthfully, the daemon wished to spread his yarn of lies into all corners of the world, simply because it was his impetus. Ifrit too was deceived, and made a contract with Solomon. And so, the god of countless names took a fraction of Ifrit, and used it.

Powers of the jinn-monarch spread far and wide, deeproted into the first of descendants. This came to be known as the demi-djinn, who would, unknowingly, become agents of the god of many names and fulfil his role, foretold by the tale of Solomon and Ifrit. With time, the daemon grew bored of his deceptions, and allowed the kingdom to be forgotten; archaic and long-lost. The movement of the thieves-guild persisted over the continent, deep-rooted in the philosophy of the god Llort, who truly was the daemon in question. Soon, the god of lies wandered, to speak its deceptions once again. After the summit of the first war, Llahir came across a slumbering titan, child to the pansophical Dragur. It bore wings of great size, scales of corrupted ebon-black, and facet wisdom and knowledge with each word it spoke, though rooted by malice and evil. This demi-god would be known as Azdromoth. The titanic drakaar settled itself within a mighty keep wrought of crimson magma, cracks of pastel-orange fire, and a preening lexicon of eternal knowledge. With a crack of laughter, the daemon made his descent into the world; his body shifted with time, and began to grow with immaculate power, that of his own, true godly energies. His appearance became reminiscent of Dragur, something that caused the eyes of the Archdrakaar to feel true fear. The dragonkin could not believe the sight, and instantly broke into reverence at what he assumed to be his long deceased father.

As the pretender announced himself as Rugard, mirroring the name of Dragur, and broke into a fit of ear-deafening laughter; clouds rolled with each spatter and cackle. Azdromoth realised the lies of the divine ahead, and in a fit of rage, sought to immolate the daemon with a gout of scorching, black dragonsflame. Before this could reach him, the lying god disappeared, fading with his mocking jest.During his next season of desire, the daemon craved indomitable violence, one crafted by his lies. In offshore lands, two pagan human kingdoms - great allies amongst themselves for life-long years - bore a feast of invitation to congratulate their loyalty. The demented god, who sought to ruin his peace for pure leisure, appeared before the king with great, angelic wings infested by white feathers – announcing themselves as a messenger of their paganistic gods. He spoke a prophecy to the king, all built on a foundation of lies, to warn them of the betrayal that would come from their allies. At first, the king faltered, untrusting of the words. Yet, the daemon was not to be impeded by challenges, and his sugar coated words drew the king into a state of anxiety.

For months, the king pondered on the prophecy. It began to madden him, silently tearing away at his mind, quilling him into a state of self-deluding. The pagan monarch began to distrust his old, neighbouring friend, attempting to see evil behind every good intention. The king shattered, engulfed in his loathing and delusions, prepared for war. In a bloody field of battle, the two nations fought – there was no reason for their battle, and they simply did so for the express purposes of being deceived. And as the last breath was drawn upon the bloody walls, the god of many names laughed – continuing to create stories from his lies.

IFRIT, KING OF JINN

A timeless creature of unknown origin, the King of Jinn rules over his scarce kindred with a sense of ambiguity; it is not known whether Ifrit was created by Llahir, or if the jinn-monarch simply came to existence. The primordial king – an omnipotent contract entity – spread his influence far and wide: appearing as important figures throughout the canals history, or being the source of cruel deception. It is believed that Ifrit works under the tutelage of Llahir without apprehension – acting as a force that indirectly enforces the will of Llahir through his deception. He is rarely seen or known, much like his presiding deity, and will find those of interest to make deals: offering those he comes to enjoy with fortune, and those he does not with misfortune. In the fullness of time, the appearance of Ifrit was ingrained into archaic culture due to his bestial head – genie, demon, or a devil of trades.

Ifrit remains touched upon mortal soil and has not found interest in leaving the plane. Canonically, the King of Jinn was deceived by Llahir; disguised as the old King Solomon to help create what would be known as the half-jinn. Ifrit remains oblivious to who Llahir is, but in their numerous interactions from time-to-time, they have built a friendly relationship on similarity and agreement. And much like his master, Ifrit remains a mystery to all who know of his existence.

The Lost Daemon

Often nicknamed “The Lost Daemon”, Llahir seemingly had disappeared. Whilst liars and thieves continue to flourish, deception is a daily part of life- The Daemon seemed to have vanished. His following does not even know of his existence, in any reaches of the world. The Harlequins of Llahir spread like an infection, self-sustaining and continuing his work in the deity’s supposed absence. Izkuthii had their powers stripped of them, Demi-Djinn unaware even of Llahir’s existence in their own making even if continuing his lies and schemes. It is unknown what The God of Many Names is up to, or even if he still lives. The chaos of The Inferi War and the succeeding Second War has kicked up smoke that the Daemon of Lies seems to have gotten lost within. Maybe he hadn’t disappeared. Maybe he is simply blending in.