The Old Ones
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The Old Ones
[Descended Daemons of Yore]
"And behold a moonlit sky; whence the Oak, the Blood, the Sword, the Serpent, the Siren and the Poison fell from, long ago."
In ancient times, when Men roamed free as one with no curses to shackle them, the world in which they dwelled endured still the throes of existential development. The Gods, known as Aenguls and Daemons, toiled and machinated to set upon the mortal realms their own creations and designs. Some Gods pitied Men, seeing their inherent mortality as an affliction. Some envied Men, regarding their mortality as a mercy to all things in the cosm of Creation.
Many remained in their primordial skies, knowing full well the darkness that would fall upon them should they take shape in the corporeal plane. There were some among their kind who would see themselves come closer to Men, as to bridge the gap between mortal and immortal, and among them there were six.
They all fell from the heavens, one by one, under moonlit skies. Men of yore named them 'Old Ones' in ancient testaments of Xion, and they perceived them wrongly as dwellers of the Void, gifted souls by the Creator so that they may shape the world into what it came to be. Three were known by godless Men, but three were not.
The Named
Widukind
The Oak
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Deemed "the roots of the world" by Weirhents of Xionism, and given the name Widukind by the same folk, the Oak is among the six descended Daemons to take shape as Old Ones. The Oak was once the Daemon of Insight, and sought to rival Dragur in his mastery of all knowledge before he succumbed to descent and took shape as an elderly tree. It is said Widukind's roots span across the known world, and a great deal of that claim is tree—sites discerned as unearthing grounds show grand roots which go on for miles, even through the deepest of desert sands and amidst the thickest of forests. Some roots even take shape as trees, which the Oak is said to perceive the world from; allowing him to have the 'insight' their once-coveted mantle promised.
Feldamfir
The Serpent
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Another godless legend, the Serpent was known as Feldamfir in ancient times, and was ordained an Old One after the proclamation that their terrible hunger allegedly shaped the caverns within the earth. Feldamfir descended to take form as a massive, mindless worm, wrongly perceived as a snake from both the length of their form and the hunger it was cursed with. The Serpent was afflicted with the mortal aspect of yearning and craving upon taking shape, and is responsible for the more recent cataclysm of Athera, where a majority of the land was contorted and devoured by Feldamfir's depthless maw. It was once the Daemon of Want, and only came to know what their flawed mantle meant once true mortal yearning was beheld.
Dresdrasil
The Siren
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The last of the Xionist Old Ones, the Siren was named Dresdrasil and proclaimed Mother of the Sea. From her womb came the life which teems the oceans and the evil that lurks the sightless deep, meaning entities of most grand, terrible form such as the Devourer are likely a descendent of the Siren herself, whom remains hidden somewhere in the drowned abyss. As a deity, the Siren existed as the Daemon of Abundance, and expressed this as an Old One with the occupation of the endless murk.
The Unnamed
The Sword
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As one of the nameless three Old Ones, the Sword descended not as a corporeal creature, but as a mere thought in the minds of uncursed Men. It came early, when Men still stacked the stones of their most ancient of walls; planted within the mind of a single mortal of old craft. Through the efforts of this nameless smith, the Sword took corporeal shape as, quite literally, a sword; and came to be the very first armament used to strike another mortal down. The Sword was once the Daemon of Innovation, and this was portrayed through the grim realization of the first blade's design.
The Blood
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Like the Sword before him, the Blood descended as a more obscure design. The Blood did not descend as one being, but as an essence; the stuff of life which granted it a title. In yore, the Blood descended upon the lands as an incorrigible red rain, and soaked into the lands east of Aegis where ancient Men, untouched yet by curses, still roamed. Before the passing of the Thirty Year War, a united band of proto-Orcs, Elves, Humans and Dwarves happened upon a crevasse in which sanguine pooled at the bottom as if water. Lured by the malignant presence of the Blood, these elders descendants were lulled into the cursed ravine by the seduction of an ethereal song and a scent which invaded their nostrils, darkening their mind. The archaic mortals tipped into the tear of earth, and drowned in Daemonblood.
From it, years later and after the Cursing of Men, came the same few who lost themselves to the allure of the Daemon, malformed by its binding to them. The Blood, obsessed with preserving the old visage of the one fabled race of “mankind”, forged them into superhuman folk, who remained as they were, yet became much different. Flesh paled, hair white, eyes a burning amber, and form almost Orcish in height and strength moreso, they rose as First Men, and reveled in the dark blood which remade them.
The Blood was once the Daemon of Origin, and shadowed the beginnings of the curseless race of Men by mixing their blood with their immortal being.
The Poison
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The last of the nameless Old Ones, the Poison descended as what their title implies; an affliction. Taking form as a disease, the Poison became a herald of end-times and the catalyst of the eventual ruin of kingdoms, for before the end of all societies there often comes a dire sickness. But only did the winds carry their toxic essence towards where disease would be beckoned—in streets plagued by the starving and the dying, in farmlands where old crops decayed, in stables where cattle became the feast of flies, and upon thrones, where the minds of lords became gripped by madness. When the Poison came, their sickness could not be cured, for when a people is fated to fall they cannot skirt the inevitable. In the heavens, the Poison was known as the Daemon of Affliction.
Their Nature
When the Old Ones descended, they became so tightly woven into the fabrics of the mortal world that any notion of Daemonhood eventually faded away; and the only remnants of Old One Daemonhood resides still in the fabled First Men, who have yet to be discovered. They have taken the role of "corporeal Gods", or beings that linger among Men as physical aspects of the plane. And as such, they have lost all Aengudaemonic bindings. No longer may they transcend back to the heavens, for when they fell from moonlit skies, they could not find it within themselves to return to them.
Every Old One has taken a singular "true shape", through some are more ambiguous than others. The Oak, the Siren and the Serpent had taken lifelike, organic forms that often adhere to the world itself, such as flora, the sea and caverns beneath the earth. But for the Sword, the Blood and the Poison, a true shape is only achieved by indirect methods. For example; in order for the Sword to take a controllable true shape, the ancient weapon it embodies must be taken by another mortal being so that they may be possessed by the power they hold in their hands. In order for the Blood to take a true shape, all but one of the First Men must be slain so that only one among them bears their living blood, and thus become possessable. The only nameless Old One without a plausible true shape is the Poison, who only arrives and takes shape as disease when a people is 'fated' for inevitable fall, erosion or destruction. One may perceive their true shape as the husk of the people left behind; their corpses, the ruins of their homelands, and their lost legacies.
If there is any relation of higher power among the Old Ones, it is their uncanny ability to commune with mortals through dreams and visions. As beings woven into the fabrics of the corporeal world, they are able to pass on these dreams - nightmares, even - to those whom they choose. But as they stand higher than common Men, they know much more, and thus such forms of contact often lead to madness in the contacted. The term "madness is for the intelligent" acts as key here; for if the insight of the Old Ones is unfathomable enough to bring madness, being insane already prevents their contact from falling on deaf ears or being perceived as indiscernible messages.
In each Old One exists the yearning to multiply. The nameless Old Ones, who seem to sit on more of a malevolent spectrum, had not gained the ability to achieve this as per their strange, unusual shapes. Whereas Widukind may multiply by the reach of their roots, or Feldamfir by the egg-laden nests of their abyss-like burrows, or Dresdrasil by her creation of vast life of the watery depths, the Sword, the Blood and the Poison cannot procreate with usual methods, and therefore must resort to grim means as to do so.
Peculiarly, the Blood and the Posion share a similar method in which "surrogates" are chosen among mortal women. For the Blood, the chosen one must have imbibed the blood of First Men so that the presence of the Blood may form within her; so that a child may then be conceived by their will. For the Poison, a mortal woman must contract their disease before being gifted with a child. Tying in with their true shape, the soul possessed by the Sword must impregnate a mortal woman or be a mortal woman herself in order to be given the child of an Old One. In the event of such transpirations, childbirth is often not survived, and the infant Old One must be taken into obscurity so they may shape into something greater without deterrence. It is the malformed, madness-inducing children of the nameless Old Ones that seem to lack the grace and worldly adherence of the kin of Widukind's trees, Dresdrasil's fish and Feldamfir's similar hunger-enamored beasts, for they are described as alien at-best. They inherit an insight that breaks the minds of common Men, and a power reminiscent of old Daemons.
