Aldûr: The First Age
In the beginning, all was void and nothing. Then upon this firmament moved the Maker, arising from shadow and beginning the Resplendant Chorus, giving rise to all beginnings. In the first song, we find our Origin, and our forebears who are now gone from us
Our Origin, by Galoen Mardenbrooke
Like all worlds, Aldûr began with the impetus of creation. All that is exists because a prime mover arose from the deep potential of the void. Encompassing a part of the void, it came into being as a motive force of creative energies. For the first moment, all was perfect and without mar or flaw.
This moment, the age of the Eldaeians, lasted vast stretches of existence; indeed, it was the whole of all that was. Yet even in its infinite and immaculate self, it could not withstand the inevitable reactive coming-to-be that was The Unmaker; the antithesis and inverse of The Maker itself.
Brought into being by the interaction between the creative motive energies and the void trapped within the space which had previously been unoccupied and formless, its primitive desire to return to its before-state created a chain reaction resulting in the destruction of creation as it was known.
The Eldaeians, who had been created for and as part of an immaculate world, found the decay and dissolution of their existence imminent. The child races of the Eldaeians had been made to exalt in creation rather than be an integral support structure of the world, and as such, found their forebears dying off.
What seemed eternal was birthed, lived, and perished in what might now be considered but a moment. The First of each kind suffered deep spiritual wounds at the loss of what could affectionately be called their racial parents. As if to add insult to injury, the Unmaker’s primal will created the Demon race, a shadowy reflection of all the power and majesty of the Eldaeians, but bent upon their opposing purpose.
Humans, Dwarves, Elves and the Fae waged a war of attrition to save the crumbling facade of creation. They watched with deep regret as the sonorous melodies of the Womb of the World faded. Boarding great ships made of cloud and holly, the created races were cast adrift in a vast and featureless ocean. The myriad colors splashed across the sky grew mute, dull and then edged into a vast and hungry blackness that drew some to take their existences by despair.
As the ships floated lost, small glimmerings of light began to streak upwards from the distance, catching in the great inky above and shedding silvery light upon the world.
Olua, whose spirit had been weakened by the struggle against the demons, slowly perished upon the sea. With her demise, those gathered around her witnessed the immortal fragment of creation that described Olua rise into the sky, becoming larger and larger as she rose until a warm ivory glow seemed to calm the tossing waters of the sea. The pale circle of the moon rippled furtively for a moment, then grew as quiet and still as the sea.
The ships of holly and cloud rested upon the quiet, sleeping deep, Olua’s light keeping the world in a silvery cast. Lolithiana would catch the shining beams in her long fingers and press them together as the endless night continued, until all at once the first spinner of webs came to be. Proportioned of silvery light, she bade it make of silvery flax a loop to grasp the essence of Zephyr, whose perishing had cast a wandering spirit to caress cheek and stern.