Tirishval

Tirishval, meaning the Cycle of Four, is an ancient religion dating back thousands of years to a civilization far from Eldham. The High Priestess Egreyot brought this religion to Eldham after she found herself lost at sea during a storm and was taken into Yunria. Some of the holy texts did not survive the journey, but Egreyot preserved some of the texts and built a holy site at Shelgorim. Followers of Tirishval (“Tirishvalim”) believe that the world was created by four Gods who are each responsible for one aspect of the cycle of life, known as the Four Stages. Tirishvalim worship the four Gods and follow the tenets of the religion as written in the holy text.

Gods
Nalror - goddess of creation. This powerful goddess has multiple pairs of arms and the head and feathers of a chicken. She flies to the Realm of the Dead in order to retrieve Remains from Uldor to create beings, buildings, and even nations.

Siniror - keeper of the Realm of the Living. His body takes on the appearance of dirt and rocks, with hair made of flowing vines. He watches over the Living to make sure that may live long and prosperous lives until Televor is ready to take them away.

Televor - god of destruction. Jutting strands of spiky, fiery hair cover his creeper-like head. When he decides that a being is ready to enter the realm of the dead, he reaches out and touches the being with his hand to hold onto it, then uses his explosive power to propel them both to the Realm of the Dead.

Uldor - keeper of the Realm of the Dead. His skeletal form is devoid of any skin or hair, but he wears a helmet and robe to distinguish himself from the Remains around him. Uldor receives the remnants of dead entities from Televor and keeps them in the Realm of the Dead until Nalror retrieves them.

The Four Stages

 * Creation: the Stage that lasts from the beginning of an entity’s life to full maturity.
 * Stasis: the Stage that occurs at an entity’s full maturity and lasts until death.
 * Destruction: the death of an entity, lasting from death to the end of the journey to the Realm of the Dead.
 * Dormancy: an entity’s time in the Realm of the Dead, up until the entity’s remains are reshaped into a new entity.

Tenets

 * 1) Respect all life, and that includes your own. You were created in the image of the Gods, and intentional destruction of this creation is sacrilegious.
 * 2) Every entity deserves to reach maturity. This means that any human, animal, plant or building must be matured/completed before killing or destroying. If, for example, an animal is killed in its infancy, or a building is entirely destroyed before it is ever finished, this will throw off the natural continuum of the stages and anger the Gods.
 * 3) The plans of the Gods should not be met with curses. If you are upset at the death of a friend, do not be angry with Televor. If the crops are not growing, do not blame Nalror. The Gods have a plan for the stages of each entity in this world, and sometimes their plans do not match our plans.
 * 4) Senseless killing is forbidden. Televor will take a being away when he is ready. Trying to rush this process will anger him and throw off the stages. The only acceptable reasons for killing any living creature are for food and other animal and plant byproducts, or for self-defense.
 * 5) One must come to know the Gods through faith, not through conquest.Spreading the faith through force is not in the spirit of the Gods.
 * 6) Mortality is a blessing. Eternal life is not in the plan of the Gods, for they have experienced the sorrows of immortality firsthand. Cheating death is against the Gods’ wishes. Be grateful that you have the chance to be reborn and live anew.
 * 7) Respect nonbelievers, for they know not their misfortune.

The Spawn of the Gods
Long ago, four lonely Gods spawned together, floating about in the void: Nalror, a chicken-headed Goddess with many hands for creating; Simiror: a God made of mighty earthen materials; Televor, a beastly God with flaming hair on his creeper-head; and Uldor, the skeletal God with helmet and robe. Each yearned to have a world of their own to fill the black expanse, so each God went their separate ways to try to maintain their own worlds to rule over.

Nalror created beings of every kind with ease. From her fingertips instantly flew a flurry of rocks and vegetation and ores, and then came creatures of every shape and species to occupy the marvelous landscapes before her. Satisfied with her creations, her pride swelled, but this new found glory would not last. Mere minutes after her world materialized, it began to crumble. Rocks fell, vegetation shrank into itself, and animals disappeared into thin air. Nalror began the process again and again, but her worlds met the same fate. Having nearly given up, she returned to spawn to spark her creativity.

Siniror offered his body to be the site of his new world, after days of attempting and failing to create landscapes. He found his body easy to take care of, being an immortal God. However, after what humans would consider an infinite amount of time, his body never changed. His magnificent earthen body did not erode or decay, but he could not grow or change form. Bored with his body’s constant stasis, he wandered around the void, unknowingly heading back in the direction of spawn.

Then there was Televor. Televor wanted so desperately to create, but after thousands of attempts, he had no luck. He tried using incantations, channeling energy through his body, even searching the void aimlessly for some rocks or debris to begin with, but he found nothing. Furiously, he tore a piece of his robe covering his chest and clenched his fist. In a giant cloud of grey and white smoke, the cloth combusted before his eyes. Televor was stunned at the strength of his own power. He considered that perhaps he was not meant for creation, but rather for destruction, yet he had nothing left to destroy besides the clothing off his back. He drifted back to his spawn, looking for other things to destroy.

Uldor was distraught from the beginning. “I cannot create, for I have no inspiration to,” he sighed. “Oh, how I yearned to rule over my own land, but who would want a ruler like me? Unlike the others, I am deformed, my body already a product of decay. There is no magic coursing through my veins, no great power waiting to be discovered. I have been gifted with immortal life, but cursed with an empty void to call home. Must I sit idly by, wasting my days away with no ability to stop myself? I am no creator, rather a mere shell of a being. My purpose is moot.” Discouraged, he sat at spawn, pondering his existence.

As the four reconvened at spawn, they vented their frustrations. “I build magnificent worlds, but they all seem to crumble before me!” cried Nalror. “At the very least, you can create. I had to give up my body as my land, and nothing happened,” added Siniror. Televor screamed and fumed. “Everything I touch gets destroyed!” Uldor had nothing to add, for his emotions had left his hollow body long ago. Then Siniror, the most level-headed of them at the time, made a suggestion. “We all have very distinct powers, that may work well together if we combine them. We can all achieve our ultimate goals of ruling over a great and mighty land if we divide the labor. Nalror, I shall offer my body so that you may create the land on it. With my power of stasis, I can watch over it. Televor may destroy the land and its creatures, so that they do not have to suffer the agony of immortality as we have thus far.” He paused and slowly turned to Uldor. “And Uldor, when these things are destroyed, I will give you the remains, and they will take your image. Then Nalror can travel to your realm of remains and reincarnate these remains so that they may live again. It will be efficient, as we can conserve matter and energy as we continue the cycle.” And thus, the Gods got to work creating the world, and the Four Stages were born, with each God taking control of one Stage: creation, stasis, destruction, and dormancy.

Why the World Ages
The Gods finally understood the world they had created and their roles within it. Televor knew that he was the destroyer, the one to take those out of their existence in the Realm of the Living and send them to the Realm of the Dead. And he did just that - with absolutely no warning. A woman would live a long, healthy life, and suddenly, Televor would take her hand for seemingly no reason and propel her into the Realm of the Dead. A fat pig would live contently, roaming the land freely, until Televor would spontaneously kill it with a brilliant blast of smoke. A building, standing strong for hundreds of years, would suddenly go up in flames. And Siniror, observing the sudden destruction of the entities living on his body, had a complaint for the mighty destroyer.

He accosted Televor, looking him sternly in the eyes. “Televor, listen to me. I know that your duty is to take the living out of this living world and into the Realm of the Dead.” Televor nodded. “However, without context, these living beings will live their lives never knowing when they will die. If you were mortal like them, you too would spend your entire existence in fear of death, purely because of its spontaneity. We must think of a solution.” Televor glanced away from Siniror’s face slowly to think, then returned to his duty.

Out of sympathy for the living creatures of the world, Televor let the creatures age slowly before their death so that they would know their time. Some would become ill very quickly, while some aged slowly and naturally. No matter how the aging process would unfold for each individual, Televor had decided that there would be at least some warning before their destruction. Even structures would age and dilapidate to make room for new foundations. People and animals still feared death, but not out of misunderstanding. Beings began to understand death, and learned that destruction is inevitable, but not unpredictable.

The Great Famine and the Wheat Fields
There once was a great farming civilization named Dalforn. The Dalfornim got rich off the land’s fertile soil and many rivers, using the land to grow magnificent fields of wheat. After only a few years of harvesting, Dalforn had enough food for its citizens to not worry about hunger and instead turn their attention to art, culture and leisure. Aside from artists and priests, citizens’ main priority was recreation. The Dalfornim would play games, watch plays, have great feasts, and dance well into the night. But slowly they forgot about the wheat fields, and the farmland went unattended until all the wheat had died, and the Dalfornim forgot to plant any new crops. Thus, the wheat fields went barren, and the Dalfornim did not notice until their food reserves were empty.

Nalror was furious with the Dalfornim. How dare they not recognize the great cycle that keeps the world alive? She contemplated going to Dalforn and scolding its citizens, but she saw the desperation in their eyes and how barren their land was, so she waited for the Dalfornim to pray to her and ask her for forgiveness.

The priests of Dalforn begged for the Gods to spare their land and help the wheat grow once more. The next night, Nalror appeared before the Great Church for all to see. The Dalfornim bowed before her as a hushed silence washed over them. Nalror picked up a chunk of the once fertile soil, now turned to rocky dust. “This land was once prosperous. And it can be prosperous once again, if the great cycle of life is respected and conserved.” In her hand suddenly appeared a single seed. “This seed represents all life. We all start out in our infancy, and with proper growth and care, and respect for the process of creation…” She buried the seed into the soil. With a wave of her hand, the seed sprouted and grew into a beautiful stem of wheat. “...we grow into maturity. But if you forget the Gods, or disrespect our delicate cycle of maintaining the land, the rewards of conserving the cycle will be lost, and the land will fall to disrepair.” She summoned a scythe, raised her arm, and swiftly cut the wheat. The High Priest reached out to hold the strand of wheat gingerly, while the other citizens crowded around looked at the wheat in awe. “Now, take the wheat, and reap not only the rewards of food, but harvest the seeds and replant them, to set in motion the stage of creation once again.”

Nalror placed the soil on the altar at the head of the Great Church and motioned for the Great Priest to plant the seeds. He planted the seed, and Nalror summoned bonemeal and a ceremonial scythe for the Great Priest to hold. The citizens scattered from the Great Priest and sat in the pews of the church, eagerly watching him grow the wheat, and, with a mighty swing of the scythe, cut it. He triumphantly gathered the wheat in his fist and held it up for all to see. Nalror, content that the Dalfornim had learned to respect creation, dematerialized. As her image faded, the citizens of Dalforn bowed and remained silent as the Great Priest continued holding up the wheat. The other Gods watched from afar, nodding slowly as the night went on and the stars and moon glistened in the sky above them.

Machus, the Man who Cheated Death
Long ago, there was an obscenely rich king. King Machus amassed wealth by inviting all of the most skilled workers in the land to live in his kingdom, only to trap them in the capital’s walls so they could not leave. They would work hard for the king all day, and then he would take away most of their pay in taxes. They couldn’t leave, nor did they want to, for Machus’ nation was so wealthy that the peasants were under the impression that the nation was doing well under Machus’ rule. And Machus ruled with an iron fist, so any worker who stepped out of line would face punishment.

As he was getting on in age, Machus fell ill. He wanted to stay alive so that he could enjoy his riches for as long as possible, so he devised a plan: he would fool the Gods and survive Televor’s deadly blast.

He first went to his most skilled blacksmith. “Blacksmith, I want you to make me armor that can withstand the greatest of impacts.” And so she forged and forged until the world’s strongest armor was created.

He then went to the kingdom’s best brewer. “Brewer, brew me an ale that is so potent, it will grant me the most health regeneration possible.” And so he brewed and brewed until the world’s most powerful ale was ready for the king.

Once he had the armor and the ale, he journeyed to the chief engineer. “Engineer, I want you to build me a block so soft that I will not even feel the fall into the Realm of the Dead.” And so he toiled and toiled until the world’s softest block was created for the king.

With his items ready, Machus sat at his throne, watching over the capital, until it was his time to leave the Realm of the Living. He heard a faint hissing beside him. “It’s your time to go. Come with me.” Televor grabbed his arm and launched them both into the Realm of the Dead. With his strong armor, he barely felt the explosion. As he landed, he placed down the world’s softest block and he was protected from the fall. He drank his ale to recover the near fatal amount of health he had lost.

As Televor left, Machus looked around. He saw expansive caves of bedrock, all filled with bones and debris. Terrified, he collapsed to the floor, only to find Uldor staring at him when he looked up. Uldor sprouted a puzzled look on his skeletal face. “Are you lost, sir?” he inquired. “Nay,” answered Machus confusedly. “Well then, you must be dead.” “I...suppose so.” “But you do not look dead. Perhaps this is your skeleton?” “Well, no. I’m still the same as I was when I was living. This is my living body.” “You don’t suppose…” Uldor glances at Televor flying back to the Realm of the Living. “...that Televor took you by mistake?” “No, I was falling ill. It was my time to go.”

At his last statement, Machus realized his mistake. He was now trapped in this land with remains of the dead, possibly for all eternity. Unless, he thought, he is picked up by Nalror and reincarnated. That was his last hope for escape. So he waited for reincarnation while he saw the bones around him taken by Nalror to the Realm of the Living. After weeks turned into months and months turned into years, all of the bones around him were replaced with new remains, and the bones that were around him all found their way up to the Realm of the Living.

Machus had enough, and the next time that Nalror came to retrieve remains, he demanded that she take him back and reincarnate him. “Please take me with you! I wanted to live forever on my world, not in this world!” Nalror ignored his pleas. He ran towards Nalror as she was flying away, but Uldor held him back. “Your efforts are futile,” Uldor said calmly. “There is no way to go back, because you are not dead. Televor cannot let you die and send you here, because you already are here. Nalror cannot recreate you, because you are not a collection of remains.” “Then what can I do?” Machus pleaded. “Well, since you are here, and there is nothing else for a living man to do in the Realm of the Dead, you will remain here and serve me.”

Thus the king became an eternal servant of Uldor, and forever remained in the Realm of the Dead.

The Bandits and the Calf
A small town on the outskirts of the continent enjoyed a peaceful existence. The townsfolk had houses, roads, several small shops, and a robust farming industry. They kept pigs, sheep, and chickens, but they were best known for their cows. The cows were mild-mannered, had the juiciest meat, produced the most nutritious milk, and always bore healthy babies. The townsfolk knew how fortunate they were to have their small-town prosperity, so they prayed to the Gods each and every night.

“O Gods, we know not why you choose us as the recipients of your fortune, but we are eternally grateful, and shall remember this gratitude throughout our many lives,” the town prayed. “We ask of you to please protect our land, our bodies, and our spirits. Show mercy to us, and let those who oppose our existence here know the errors of their ways.”

One foggy night, a group of hungry bandits saw a faraway light in the distance. They decided to inch in closer and saw the outline of the village. All the houses had their lights out, and the lone light that they saw was hanging over the barn to keep the animals warm. “We haven’t eaten in days,” said one. “Why don’t we steal their animals so that we can have our own food?” Another replied, “Steal them? Are you crazy? We don’t have the energy to transport the animals all the way back to our base. We should kill them!” “Alright, but we have to eat quickly, and throw the corpses in the nearby river so they can’t be seen.”

The bandits crept into the farm and glanced across the barn at all the animals, their eyes glazed over and their mouths watering. The sheep looked mighty tempting, with their luscious chops. Or perhaps a nice, plump chicken would make a good snack, they supposed. But then, suddenly, their heads jerked towards the back of the barn. There lay the biggest cows that the bandits had ever seen. “I know what we’re eating tonight,” one of the bandits muttered with a devious grin.

He took out a tempered sword and tore into the cow’s side. The other animals in the barn yelped and wailed along with the dying cow, which made so much noise that the Gods heard them in the distance. “Look at those bandits and their clear disrespect for my creation! Do they not respect others’ animals?” Nalror cried. Siniror held up his hand. “Now, now. These bandits clearly do not respect others’ animals, or property, but they have been starving for days. Perhaps we should think before we act on this. Besides, the cow will enjoy a prosperous reincarnation, will it not?” “I suppose you are correct. After all, I can give the cow a better life after its destruction.”

The bandits dug into the cow’s raw, bloody flesh, devouring the raw meat with their sharp teeth and unhinged jaws. They tossed the carcass into the river and returned to the barn, where the remaining animals looked on with terrified expressions and yelps of fear. Looking at the horrified animals gave one bandit an idea. “These villagers have no other source of food besides these animals. I think they’ve had it too good for too long, especially compared to poor saps like us, who are poor and have to raid other people’s belongings to survive. How about we level the playing field?” “What does that mean, boss?” piped up another bandit. “I say, these animals are getting pretty old. But once their offspring grow up, they can replace the old animals and bear more children.” “We’re still not exactly following you. What are you suggesting?” “Well, if we stop those offspring from ever growing up, the cycle won’t continue, and these stupid townsfolk’ll have no food!”

He unsheathed the sword that he had used to kill the cow just minutes ago, the blood on the blade still fresh. The other bandits begged for him to stop. “No! Stop! We don’t need to do this!” As he approached the pen, his silhouette towered over a defenseless calf. The animals began to scream and wail again, but since they were bred to be so meek, they did not defend themselves. However, due to the screams of pain coming from the barn, the townsfolk began to wake up and run towards the barn. As they rushed through the doors, they saw the exact moment when the bandit swiftly struck the calf across the neck. Siniror, alerted by the noise, also watched in horror right as the calf fell to the ground, blood spilling from its head. In a fury, Siniror raised his earthen hand and grabbed the bandit out of the barn. Enraged, he crushed the bandit in his hand, forcing the bandit to drop his desecrated sword. He wound up his arm and threw the bandit all the way across the earth to his definite death. The other bandits fleed from the town in terror, ashamed to even have known the one who killed the calf. The townsfolk, who had been shocked and deeply upset mere seconds ago, were now elated and so overcome with emotion that they had fallen to their knees and begun praising Siniror. They tried to tell him how overjoyed they were that he had saved the rest of their animals, but they were lost for words. Siniror explained to them:

“My friends, I have nothing but respect and admiration for your small yet mighty village. These vile invaders took an innocent young animal’s life when it was but a calf, not even fully matured. It could never achieve stasis, and therefore I did not even have the chance to give it the long, healthy life it deserved. No, this young beast was taken from this world before I could ever have jurisdiction over its life, delivered straight into the hands of Televor. This malicious bandit has disrupted the precious cycle of this world, and thus I have disrupted his cycle of life. I will ensure that the other Gods will show appropriate punishment towards him. Every Stage, no matter how mundane, is essential to the balance of the world. No Stage can be skipped, or the delicate balance planned by the Gods ourselves shall be thrown off. You respect the balance of the Stages. He did not.” And with that, Siniror’s hand disappeared back into the earth.