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// EXTRA CONTENT: The Trinity of Creation (Religious Beliefs of the Lost Races) 
// Story: The Legends of Lore 
// by ChaosDragon 
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*Please read the Author's Note before continuing*

In the beginning, before time, before space, there was only the endless void. The void contained nothing. Nothing, yet everything. The void was a roiling sea of ever-changing chaos and madness, so alien and contradictory in its very nature, that mortal minds could not even begin to comprehend it. The void was infinitely miniscule, yet at the same time, so vast that you could never reach its end in all your days. It was as dead as the most barren waste, yet burst with the vibrance of a thousand billion lives. Wiser than all the greatest scholars, yet more feral and unthinking than the most savage of beasts. Space and time meant nothing within this void, for they did not yet exist.

Amidst this ever-changing chaos, a random fragment of order coalesced, as it inevitably must, and as it inevitably had before. However, unlike before, this fragment was not immediately swept away by the void. This fragment held on to its existence, and began to grow, ordering the chaos around it, as is its nature, and taking that new order into itself. 

Eventually, this order grew strong enough to rival the void, bringing about a turning point. They could no longer exist together without one succumbing to the other. Equally matched, the two opposing forces ripped themselves free in a cataclysmic storm of creation and destruction, releasing all things that had been trapped within. And from this explosive separation, our universe, our reality, was born.

Breaking into three pieces, the remnants of the great order fell into this new universe, while the remnants of the void were flung far outside it, that the two forces might finally exist separately from each other. The three pieces of the great order that fell into our universe took on new life, becoming the three great creators, known together as the Trinity of Creation. First was beautiful Seldanaldrie; wild, graceful, and passionate. Second was wise Bathoun; strong, kind, and intelligent. Third was sturdy Doramor; tough, fierce, and clever.

Wishing for a realm of their own, Seldanaldrie, Bathoun, and Doramor came together and forged the foundation of our world from the dust of the universe. However, their new world was still but a barren hunk of rock, and the three creators were not yet content.

First, Doramor brought forth force and fire into the world. He created gravity to stabilize the world, and then shaped all things below the earth with heat and pressure. Next, Bathoun brought forth air and water. He created the sky and carefully shaped the surface of the world, taking his time with rain and wind. Last, Seldanaldrie brought forth light and life. She created the sun and set it high above the world. Her light freed the true power held within the land, covering the world in green, and giving energy and life unto the barren soil.

Their task done, the Trinity longed for others to share their newly-made paradise with them. They set out to bring forth creatures into the world, but each held a different idea for what to create, so each of them made their own. Doramor, always one to take the initiative, began their work. Doramor went deep into the forges of the earth. With fire and hammer, he shaped his creations. They were sturdy as the earth, strong as its ores, tough as its stones, and intense as its fires. Doramor named his creations, ‘dwarves’.

Bathoun, forever patient, thought long on his creation before starting. He then climbed to the peak of the tallest mountain, and spent millennia shaping it, one breeze and one raindrop at a time. He gave his creation the stature of the mountain, the strength of the river, the patience of the wind, and the wisdom of time. Bathoun named his creations, ‘trolls’.

Seldanaldrie, ever the wild fount of life and creativity, could not confine herself to a single creation. She made thousands, tens of thousands, in every shape and size imaginable, giving birth to all the animals of the world.

However, Seldanaldrie was left unsatisfied, for she could not speak with her plants and animals as Doramor and Bathoun could with their new works. So, Seldanaldrie attempted to create intelligent life of her own.

Seldanaldrie wished to create a race that embodied the might and beauty of the natural world she had created, but she could not do it alone. For Seldanaldrie herself was a thing of nature. Wild, instinctive, beautiful yes, but with an untamed spirit. Seldanaldrie’s creation turned out wild and free in spirit, with the grace and beauty of the world flowing through it’s veins, and the enduring life of nature in it’s very bones, but it’s mind was blank. It held no more thought than the lowest of animals, acting only on its instincts and desires.

Seldanaldrie was unable to shape the ordered mind needed for the creation of truly intelligent life. So she went to Bathoun and asked for his aid. Being of a generous and kind nature, Bathoun shared his knowledge of the ordered mind with Seldanaldrie, and even took some of the magic from his creations, who so overflowed with the gift, and gave it to Seldanaldrie to use. So, with Bathoun's help, Seldanaldrie created the elves. But as she did, Doramor looked on with jealousy and indignation. For Bathoun had not offered /Doramor/ any aid, nor given him any gifts, and Seldanaldrie's creations were already so gifted as they were. Why should /they/ receive Bathoun’s gift and become the most magically powerful? So before Seldanaldrie could put Bathoun's gift into her creation, Doramor stole it away and gave it to /his/ creations, the dwarves.**

**The dwarven version of course, says that because Doramor made dwarves before any other race, and since he shaped them from the raw earth before its magic was used for anything else, they just 'naturally' had more magic to start with. The dwarves contest that Bathoun’s gift wasn’t stolen, but that Seldanaldrie, being naturally wild and unpredictable, simply lost it.

Discovering Bathoun’s gift gone, Seldanaldrie accused Doramor of the theft, which he of course, denied. Certain of his treachery, but unable to prove it, Seldanaldrie was filled with anger. Doramor as well, was filled with anger at Seldanaldrie’s accusation, and the two began to feud, their anger ever growing. Bathoun tried to stop the fighting, but it was no use. Unable to stop them, Bathoun withdrew deep into his mountains and sealed himself away, so that he might be spared the sorrow of having to watch his siblings fight. Meanwhile, Seldanaldrie’s fury was so overwhelming, that it spilled into the world, giving birth to lightning, hurricanes, tornadoes, and floods. Doramor’s rage could also not be contained, and spilled into the world as well, birthing wildfires, avalanches, volcanoes, and earthquakes.

Seldanaldrie and Doramor feuded and fought for untold years, as did their children, until the cause was long forgotten, and all that remained was their anger. During one of their many battles, Seldanaldrie hurled the sun into Doramor’s eyes, half blinding the other god. In his pain, Doramor struck the sun from the sky, and brought about the darkness of night, so that he may better see and deny Seldanaldrie her precious light. Back and forth the battles raged, the two gods remaining blind to the havoc they wreaked upon the world, and the lives that were lost in their names, until one day the world could take no more. 

From the raging fires of the gods anger, the magic of countless battles, and the blood and ash of untold lives, the dragons were born. Clawing their way out from the depths of the scarred earth, the twelve great wyrms rose, each a mountain unto itself. Driven to a frenzy by the gods battle, they took to the skies, their wings blocking out the sun. Blind with bloodlust, and mad with rage, the dragons ravaged the world, devouring and burning until nothing remained but ash and scorched earth.

Seeing the devastation, Seldanaldrie and Doramor finally stopped their fighting, but it was too late. Horrified by what their battle had unleashed on the world, the two gods finally let go of their anger, and threw their weapons down into the very heart of the earth, so that they may never again be tempted to use them.

Filled with guilt, Seldanaldrie and Doramor sought their brother Bathoun. They unsealed him from his mountain refuge, and begged his forgiveness, telling him all that had happened. Kind Bathoun, always so forgiving, did not speak of his siblings folly, only welcomed them back with open arms. 

United once more, the Trinity set out to aid their children, but they could not be found. Fearing the worst, the three gods spread out across the world, searching for anything that had survived the cataclysm. All they found were three tiny seeds, singed by dragon fire, but still alive. The three creators were stricken with grief, and wept for the loss of their beloved children and all they had made. Their tears drowned the barren wastes of the world and created the great oceans.

Out of the depths of these new oceans rose Arvandor, the great guardian; born from the deep sorrow of the creators, and the souls of the innocent. Arvandor looked upon the black sky and the ravaged world, and despaired. Having no desire to dwell upon the Trinity’s ruined world, but having nowhere else to go, Arvandor decided to claim the night sky for his own. He took one of his own eyes, still new and shining, and threw it into the black sky. Thus he created the moon, where he would dwell apart from the Trinity.

Shunning the troubles of the world, and longing for the idyllic past that he had never known, Arvandor shaped his realm into the heavens; an eternal paradise of peace and rest, devoid of earthly troubles, and far removed from the concerns of the world, and the three creators. Until they atoned for their sins, Arvandor would not forgive the Trinity for what they had done. However, he did take pity on the souls of their misguided children, and would forever after. Gathering the souls of the dead from the world, Arvandor brought them to dwell in the heavens, that they may finally rest and know peace. And each soul that entered his realm became a star in the night sky, to dwell at his side in paradise for eternity.

The Trinity, bereaved of their children, parted company to mourn their loss in private, leaving their once beautiful world to the raging dragons. And to remind them of what they had allowed to pass, each took with them a single surviving seed. As punishment for his sin, Doramor isolated himself in a dark cavern, hidden deep within a ravine, denying himself what sight he had remaining so that he would never forget that his violence had only harmed himself. So that she would be forced to forever look upon the consequences of her fury, Seldanaldrie secluded herself in the blackened heart of what had once been her greatest, and most beloved forest; now nothing more than an endless expanse of charred husks and glassed earth. Bathoun, still blaming himself for not stopping his siblings, returned to his beloved mountains, only to find them destroyed like the rest of the world. So that he would always remember the foolishness of trying to ignore his siblings quarrel, Bathoun set himself to rebuilding his mountains, stone by stone, with only his bare hands.

Alone in his cave, Doramor silently lamented the folly of fighting his sister. He regretted striking her beautiful sun from the sky, and unleashing the dragons upon the world. For a millennium, he remained silent and unmoving in the darkness, until he could no longer bare the idleness of his own remorse. 

Doramor took his seed, the reminder of his sins, and blessed the tiny survivor. He dug a small hole for the seed in the solid rock of the cave floor, but realized he could not plant it. Their world was dead and burned, so there was no fertile soil left to nourish the tiny seed. Using the rock of the earth, and his own blood, Doramor filled the hole with rich, fertile soil. When Doramor planted the tiny seed, it immediately began to grow. It grew faster and faster and burst forth into a great tree of living crystal, more beautiful than all the gems of the earth. Thus, the Tree of Balance came to be.

The great tree brought light back to the dark cave, glowing with an inner peace. Doramor covered his eyes, thinking to save his damaged eyes from being blinded further, but he found the light did not hurt. To his greater surprise, he found his vision to be restored. The light of the tree grew brighter and brighter, becoming as radiant as Seldanaldrie’s sun, and then it burst forth from the Tree of Balance in a great wave. The light swept across the world, taking the blood and the rage from the dragon’s eyes, and restoring the sun to the sky. No longer being driven mad by the infectious fury of the gods, the 12 great wyrms looked down upon the world they had ravaged and despaired. In their guilt and their shame, the 12 great dragons scattered across the world and returned to the darkest depths of the earth, that they might slumber undisturbed for eternity, and never again be consumed by the rage that had ultimately destroyed the world.

Seldanaldrie’s heart was lifted when she saw her beautiful sun restored, but with its restoration, she also saw the horrors of her sin anew. Seldanaldrie, holding the tiny seed tight to her heart, lay on the small rise in the middle of her dead forest, and wept. What few tears she had left to shed formed a shallow pool around her resting place. She wept until even the land itself held her sorrow, for in years to come, no matter how many tears were taken from the pool, it never again ran dry. Even when Seldanaldrie had no tears left to give, she continued to cry, her body giving up its life blood for tears, so that she could continue to mourn. For she, mother of creatures, life of the land, had lost more than anyone.

When Seldanaldrie had shed a drop for every living thing lost in the cataclysm, she found she could mourn no more. She got to her knees and dug a small hole in the middle of her little rise. Then Seldanaldrie blessed her tiny seed, the last of her creations, planted it in the soaked ground, and departed. The seed drank deep of her tears, and her blood, and her sorrow. It swelled in the ground until it could take no more. Then the seed burst forth with new growth, raising another crystal tree on the tiny island at the center of the pool. Thus, the Tree of Life was born.

The tree shone in the light of the sun, and Seldanaldrie looked upon it in joy and wonder. As she watched, the tree burst into flames of blue and white, crowning it in fire. A great pillar of smoke rose from the flames, and Seldanaldrie feared for the tree, yet the tree remained unharmed. The smoke rose high into the air, then spread across the sky in a great wave. When all the world was covered, rain of emerald and gold began to fall from the smoke in a gentle shower. The rain washed the world clean of ash and death, and from the damp earth came new life. All the plants and creatures of the world rose from the earth anew, and even the Trinity’s beloved children walked the land once more. And when the rain waters flowed into the new oceans, they brought life there as well, giving birth to all the creatures of the seas. With its work done, the Tree of Life ceased to burn, the smoke cleared from the sky, and all rejoiced at feeling the warmth of the sun once more.

Among his mountains, Bathoun continued his work in quiet contemplation. Though life had returned, and the sun rose in the sky once more, he had not yet completed his work. His beloved mountains were still unfinished. The labor was grueling and arduous, and though he never once faltered in his task, it took its toll. The work wore away at his hands until they cracked and bled, but even then he never stopped working. Every stone Bathoun touched was bathed with his blood, and so his own blood became the mortar with which he rebuilt his mountains.

When his task was finally complete, Bathoun stood atop the tallest of his mountains. He looked out over the world and saw it anew, and he understood. Upon the peak of that mountain, Bathoun planted his seed, and it too did grow into a crystal tree.**

**At this point the elf, dwarf, and troll versions differ slightly. The elves believe the tree that grew was the Tree of Wisdom. They believe the tree granted the Lost Races the knowledge to survive without the gods, and the secrets to master their own magic. The dwarves believe it was actually the Tree of Prosperity. They say the Tree of Life only birthed infants, and it was the Tree of Prosperity that nurtured the new life of the world, helping it grow and flourish freely. The trolls insist that it was actually the Tree of Time. They maintain the tree granted the Lost Races their longevity. They also say the tree gave the lost races great wisdom, and keeps all the knowledge of the ages within it, so that they might never lose the mistakes of the past to time.

When the world was restored, the three creators reunited, and together they sought Arvandor. Arvandor had looked down upon the restored world and been glad in his heart to see it so, and so he forgave the Trinity for their folly and came before them. The three creators told Arvandor they wished to give this reborn world to their children for a time. For the Trinity had grown weary, and wished to rest. It was time for their children to live as they wished, and make their own choices, free from the Trinity’s influence. The creators could not help but worry though, so they asked Arvandor to watch over their children from above, and to take those that may perish into his realm.

Being fond of their creations, Arvandor agreed to care for them, and bid the Trinity go to their rest. And so the three creators returned to the crystal trees that had been their salvation and decided to dwell within them, that they may rest but still remain close to their children.