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Setting Information

  • Celestial Origins

    Primordial Pantheon: Gods of Chaos and Order

    The Gods Themselves
    The primordial deities were a mix of chaotic and elemental beings--creatures of raw power, each embodying fundamental forces of the universe. They had no human forms, then; they had more abstract, monstrous forms that reflected their domains: serpentine bodies of stars, ever-shifting forms of smoke and fire, beasts with multiple eyes and limbs reflecting the chaotic blend of nature’s unpredictability. They were vast, incomprehensible beings--like the Titans of Greek mythology crossed with Lovecraftian horrors, each magnificent and terrifying in their own right.

    A Pantheon of Rivalries and Alliances
    This pantheon was not a peaceful council but a fractious assembly of clashing egos, each vying for dominance or trying to carve out their niche in a chaotic cosmos. Some gods ruled over light, darkness, time, or the seas, constantly in conflict or uneasy alliances, forever trying to one-up each other or assert their control.

    Rise of Angels and Demons
    In the beginning, angels and demons were not as distinct as they would later become. Both groups emerged from the divine pantheon's primal chaos, initially neither "good" nor "evil" but expressions of differing divine impulses: order and chaos, creation and destruction, guidance and temptation. These beings served as intermediaries, each with unique temperaments and purposes that reflected the gods' personalities.

    The split came not from ideology but from functionality. Certain deities, seeking order, granted beings powers to preserve structure and encourage devotion. Meanwhile, gods who reveled in rebellion and freedom empowered beings to inspire defiance, desire, and ambition. Over time, these roles solidified the guardians of divine law, and the beings who encouraged independence, often sowing dissent against restrictive doctrines. They were called umerous things by numerous doctrines over the millennia; Yăhwēh called them "angels" and "demons".

    Where Humanity Fits In
    In this primordial setup, humanity was an afterthought--a side project born out of divine boredom by some, rivalry between others, and sheer curiosity by others still. One of the gods saw apes and thought, “What if we made them more--interesting?” Like celestial tinkers, they took creatures that were simple, functional, and perfectly adapted to their environment and decided to mess with them.

    Why Ruin Perfectly Good Apes?

    Entertainment and Amusement
    To the gods, making apes into humans was a grand, divine experiment--a way to pass the eons. Giving apes a spark of intelligence and free will made them more entertaining. The gods could watch them struggle, build, destroy, and worship, finding amusement in the unpredictable chaos that intelligent life brings. It was like having a cosmic ant farm, but with more drama.

    Vanity and Worship
    Some gods saw the potential for adoration and wanted beings who could look up, recognize them, and bow in reverence. Apes, with their simple lives, didn’t care about the gods. But humans? With their curiosity, fear, and need for answers, humans could be molded into worshippers, constantly building altars, offering sacrifices, and telling stories that glorify their creators.

    Testing Grounds and Divine Pet Projects
    The gods, driven by their egos, saw humans as an opportunity to play out their rivalries on a smaller scale. One god gave humans fire, another wisdom, while yet another whispers of war into their ears. Humanity was the ultimate proving ground for the gods’ petty competitions--each trying to make their mark on the world through their flawed creations.

    An Endless Source of Chaos and Conflict
    Humans, unlike other apes, brought with them the capacity for grand-scale conflict, creativity, and self-destruction. For the gods of chaos, this was a gift--they turned the dial up on intelligence and let the humans loose, knowing full well that they’d create wars, civilizations, art, and religion, filling the world with an endless cycle of creation and destruction. It was a perpetual motion machine of drama.

    Divine Spite or Experiment Gone Wrong
    Some gods have intervened out of sheer spite or experimentation gone awry; imagine a god tweaking a few genes just to see what would happen, or another feeling slighted by the “perfect apes” and deciding to make them less perfect, just to prove a point. Some of the gods' motives were as simple as boredom and others' as complex as ancient grudges manifesting in the mortal realm.

    The Result: Humanity as a Divine Joke

    Tragicomedy
    Humans were then the ultimate testament to divine whims--beings with a spark of the divine, yet plagued by the very flaws and chaos that defined their creators. Humanity’s purpose wasn’t to reach some higher truth or fulfill a grand design; it was to serve as the ever-entertaining pawns in a cosmic game of ego, power, and capriciousness. And, of course, they were left asking the eternal question: Why? The answer, frustratingly simple and infuriating: Because the gods thought it would be funny.

  • Gods at War

    Though ancient and primordial, the gods were far from limitless. Their ability to directly affect humanity was rather limited, though that was a by-product of the gods' own shortsightedness. The gods could not directly force any species, much less humans, to do what they wished. They could only guide, cajole, encourage, or threaten. It didn't help that they took a particularly stubborn and aggressive ape to use as the basis for humanity. That had been chosen mostly by the gods of chaos and strife, by tricking their kinder counterparts.

    In hindsight, the gods realized they should have used the ape that became the gorilla instead of the ape that became the chimpanzee and the bonobo, but by that point humans were firmly entrenched in the world like a particularly tenacious infestation. As such, it seemed easier to just deal with them as they were than to start over, particularly with a sizable portion of the pantheon reveling in the havoc humanity wrought. Even gods could be subject to laziness.

    They weren't wholly removed from humanity; while the gods would later argue over who came up with the idea, one realized they could imbue a human being with their own power, and thus bring themselves amongst mortals, but not so powerfully as to risk inciting another war amongst the gods. That the wars between the gods continued on perfectly fine whether or not they entered the mortal world was beside the point.

    For no particular reason, many gods chose to use an object of clothing as a symbol, as a key of sorts; when a human wore the item, it signaled their desire for the god's presence to fill them. This was enough to keep the gods from arguing over whether inhabiting a human body was protecting the human or harming them. Putting the item on signified their active decision to accept the god, after all. Granted, whether the human actually knew what was going to happen when they wore the item didn't seem relevant to the conversation.

    One of a goddess' first significant outings as a mortal was when she changed places with Ubállissu-mīti-Ágzed, a young priestess under the leadership of Enḫeduanna, the first recorded poet in all of history and the finest poet in all of Ūr, a major Sumerian city-state known for its religious, political, and economic significance. Renowned for its impressive ziggurat, it was one of the most influential cities of ancient Mesopotamia.

    Calling herself Inaná, she guided Enḫeduanna and through her, Akkad, and through Akkad, Mesopotamia. Enḫeduanna devoted her life to worship, figuratively and literally singing praises.

    She was, of course, far from the only deity to engage directly with mortals in such fashion. She wasn't even the first. Not everyone wanted temples and grand orgies in their name, however. Some preferred their worshippers spread their influence through war and violence.

    Another goddess, Šukaletudâ, emboldened her followers and had them sow chaos across the land. In Akkad, one of her devoted followers, Lugal-Anē, rose to power under her name and sought to rebel and overthrow the king of Ūr, Šarru-kīn, later known simply as Sargon. Politicking and scheming led to the rebellion becoming strong enough for open conflict. Under Šukaletudâ's instruction, Enḫeduanna was forcibly removed from Giparû, a sprawling complex devoted to religious worship, primarily of Inaná, though other, lesser, gods were often venerated as well.

    This was the final straw for Inaná; the resulting feud with Šukaletudâ erupted into the streets of Ūr. Led by two powerful goddesses, the rebellion and the king's military clashed, with Inaná destroying Šukaletudâ's hold over her mortal, and thus forcing her counterpart from the mortal world, if only temporarily.

  • Enlil: Enmity and Strife

    From the primordial pantheon, Enlil was born out of chaos, embodying storm and authority, a volatile force whose temper could shape worlds. Capricious, jealous, and endlessly egotistical, Enlil thrived on conflict, often attempting to assert his dominance among the gods through sheer will and power. His rage was legendary; he brought storms that could flood cities, winds that could strip mountains, and plagues that could humble empires. Enlil did not simply want to be worshipped--he wanted to be feared, to be seen as the most powerful among the gods.

    But his rule was far from just. Enlil’s decrees were often cruel and contradictory, a mix of whims that reflected his own insecurities and desire for control. He brooked no rivals, always quick to remind mortals and gods alike of his supremacy. As the pantheon evolved, so did Enlil’s need to stand above all others, his jealousy seething when worship or praise was given elsewhere.

    Over time, as civilizations shifted and gods rebranded, Enlil’s image transformed. His desire to be seen as the ultimate authority crystallized into his becoming known as Yăhwēh, a god who demanded exclusive devotion, crafting a complex web of laws that seemed more intent on testing loyalty than providing guidance. Each rule was like a puzzle, often self-contradictory and impossible to fully satisfy, designed less for moral clarity and more to reinforce his control.

    Worshippers were kept in a state of perpetual obedience, with threats of punishment or promises of favor hanging over every action. Enlil’s ancient insecurities and need to be seen as the most powerful had evolved into Yăhwēh’s divine insistence that no other gods could stand before him. He had become the embodiment of divine capriciousness--a god who, despite his proclamations of order, thrived in a world of strife and enmity, constantly reminding his followers of his unpredictable, all-consuming power.

    In the end, Enlil’s transformation into Yăhwēh didn’t soften his nature; it amplified it. The ancient jealousy, the need for recognition, and the delight in wielding power over others remained at the core of his being, reflected in every contradictory command and every demand for unwavering faith.

  • Demonic Hierarchy

    j7mmc62q297.png
    Image: A ring, just inside which are six equidistant points. They're connected to every other point via lines. In the "boxes" these lines form are sigils, with the largest in the very center. Along the outermost lines is flowing script.
    While there are many ways to try and classify demons, the truth is that they, and their angel counterparts, are no more or less diverse than humanity. They all have a function, a purpose, even if they forge one for themselves. Still, they can be grouped, if somewhat loosely.

    The demonic domain is ruled by four Lords:

    Satan "Lord of the Inferno":
    The adversary, representing opposition, the element of fire, the direction of the south, and the Sigil of Baphomet during ritual.

    Lucifer "The Morning Star":
    The bringer of light, representing pride and enlightenment, the element of air, the direction of the east, and candles during ritual.         		Belial "Without a Master":
    The baseness of the earth, independence and self-sufficiency, the element of earth, the direction of the north, and the sword during ritual.

    Leviathan "Serpent of the Abyss":
    The great dragon, representing primal secrecy, the element of water, the direction of the west, and the chalice during ritual.

    Each Lord has their own domain, which is partly made up of the domains of those below them. Given the rather "relaxed" way demons take to their classification, one subdomain can touch more than one domain. Of the other demons, the numeric classifications used by theologians such as Cornelius Agrippa and Francis Barrett are perhaps the closest to the truth.

    Scale of Unity
    One Monarch of rebellion, of angels, and darkness


    Scale of Binary
    Two chiefs of the devils

    Scale of Ternary
    Three furies
    Three infernal judges         		Scale of Quaternary
    Four Lords of devils in the elements
    Four Princes of spirits, upon the four angles of the world

    Scale of Senary
    Six authors of all calamities

    Scale of Novenary
    Nine princes ruling over nine orders of demons

    One notices three entire scales--or levels--of rank above the Four Lords. That's where things get interesting. The positions of the Two Chiefs is often fought over, and the same few-dozen demons become Judges. Being a Fury is a badge of honor, so that's fought over constantly. The real thorny issue, though, is the role of the Monarch. The question, of course, is just who the Monarch is--and the answer is no one knows. Satan, Lucifer, Beelzebub, and others most mortals would think to fill the role have other roles in the hierarchy. There is no one, obvious ruler, no one, set Emperor or Empress, and therein lies the heart of many civil wars, as demons insist their patron is or should be the Monarch.

  • Angelic Hierarchy

    For angels, there isn't an equivalent structure that's as intricate or competitive as the one for demons, primarily because angelic hierarchies focus on harmony and divine order, rather than personal power or conflict. However, it's possible to present a celestial hierarchy with similarly layered ranks and assigned functions, mirroring the structure but emphasizing cooperation and purpose rather than rivalry and authority struggles.
    Angelic Hierarchy of the Divine Hosts

    The angelic domain is led by four Archangels, representing different virtues, elements, directions, and symbols of celestial purpose:

    Michael "The Defender":
    Representing strength and protection, he embodies the element of fire, the direction of the south, and wields the flaming sword in divine service.

    Gabriel "The Messenger":
    Symbolizing wisdom and revelation, Gabriel's domain is air, associated with the east, and is represented by the trumpet used to announce divine messages.         		Raphael "The Healer":
    Embracing compassion and healing, Raphael embodies the element of water and presides over the west, symbolized by the healing staff.

    Uriel "The Light of Yăhwēh":
    Guardian of insight and enlightenment, Uriel is linked to the earth element, the north, and the scroll of divine knowledge.

    Each Archangel's domain intersects with others, creating a balanced whole. As with the demonic domains, their jurisdictions often overlap, symbolizing the unity and interdependence within the celestial order.

    Within the angelic domain, the hierarchy is ordered in scales that loosely align with the human, divine, and cosmic needs they serve:

    Scale of Unity
    One Supreme Angel of the Divine Light
    This role, sometimes identified with Metatron, serves as a mediator between the divine and the angelic hosts, embodying unity and harmony. Rather than ruling, this entity focuses on ensuring the cosmic order is maintained.

    Scale of Binary
    Two High Seraphs
    Guardians of God's throne and embodiment of divine love, often described as closest to the Divine Light.

    Scale of Ternary
    Three Thrones of Judgment
    These angels carry out divine justice and mediate among the other ranks, acting as impartial judges to ensure that each order's duties remain true to divine intention.[/i]     		Scale of Quaternary
    Four Princes of the Divine Elements
    Each corresponds with one of the Four Archangels, enhancing their domains with purity and control over natural elements.



    Scale of Senary
    Six Powers of Virtue
    These are guardians of cosmic strength, empowering and protecting mortal souls and guiding their spiritual progress.

    Scale of Novenary
    Nine Orders of Angels
    This scale contains the well-known angelic choirs: Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones, Dominions, Virtues, Powers, Principalities, Archangels, and Angels, each with distinct responsibilities in the heavenly and earthly realms.

    Unlike the demonic hierarchy, the angelic realm emphasizes unity and cooperation. The identity of the Supreme Angel or divine mediator, often attributed to Metatron, is clear, and the roles are stable, with no competition for authority. This structure promotes an ethos of shared purpose, with each rank and role acting in concert to uphold divine will and maintain cosmic order.

    Further, in a world where mortals interact with both angels and demons, this hierarchy reflects the structured, harmonious side of the divine order. The Supreme Angel and high Seraphs stand as figures of mystery, perceived differently by each mortal culture but recognized as the guiding light within the angelic ranks. This contrast with the demon hierarchy highlights the differences in purpose: where demons reflect conflict and autonomy, angels represent stability, guidance, and shared goals.

  • Magic

    g4z9czbjb87.png
    Image: An outer ring with flowing script, inside of which are two interlocked squares, one at an angle to form a diamond, and each have more flowing script running along them. In the center are six sigils; fire, air, and earth forming a triangle, and within is a smaller, upside-down triangle with the sigils for water, light, and soul.
    As comes as no surprise, of the three realms, the demonic and angelic realms are positively fueled by magic. The mortal realm used to be, as well, but over the millennia, faith in the supernatural has been slowly replaced by evidence-based science. This has had the effect of making it far more difficult to use magic in the mortal realm; reality itself resists being altered. This resistance has been dubbed "stasis".

    Stasis exists all over the mortal realm, though to varying strengths. The most "developed", science-driven societies tend to be the most static, while the smaller cultures still rife with mysticism and spiritual tradition tend to be the least static. Stasis tends to backlash against someone using magic, more or less to the strength of the magic being attempted. Altering the temperature a few degrees garners a smaller reaction, trying to bring rain to the desert causes a much more powerful one.

    Another factor is the skill of the magic user. Particularly unskilled users usually suffer harsher reactions, as they lack the skill to weave their magics very intricately. A higher-skilled user can usually craft magics that don't "stress" reality as much, thus making the reactions less severe.