Hexia

Here is the story as was relayed unto me via oral tradition, transcribed: 

 

Long before the times took shape, Hexia, who some regard to be their mother, roamed the Aether, basking in its lights. Being the "supreme mother" of some forgotten cult, life itself flows through her veins. And from this life, she became pregnant. But for all her apparent purity, she was a rather whimsy deity. Some of her children, she ate. Some others, she offered in sacrifice, in mockery, of other deities. Soon came a child which she could not, or would not, kill. She treated that child with exceptional tenderness. From her long flowing hair, she wove into the finest clothes for her child. She bested other deities in combat, and forced them to nurse her child. She stole stars from the sky, and, with her claws carved toys from them. Her child grew. He grew to be as tall and slender as his mother, a noble young man, who took fondness for practicing war games on a chariot along with the children of other deities. He was a handsome man, and his mother knew such. His mother took notice, until one day, her whims, knowing no boundaries, she consummated intimacy with her child. And he, who had been raised solely by his mother, knew no decency, and gave himself in offering. Their dynasty was cursed, but their lust was greater, so they did not halt their shameful deeds. Their relationship sent shockwaves through The Eternal Garden, letting all the deities know, just how far the whims of Hexia went, so far as to forever pollute her descendance, and, polluted her descendance was. The other deities became tired of her, but could do nothing. From this, the rest of the deities which she calls her pantheon came into existence, the same way her child did, to make up her pantheon. They bred deities for the sun and for the moon and for the stars and for everything in between. There were those for farming, for hunting, for the brewing of spirits and for the spirits themselves. There were those for beauty, for youth, for szparty, and, for pleasure. There were those for war, for bloodlust. All together, they all disturbed the eternal peace and calm of The Gardens. First, they ate, and, they drank. They ate their children, they ate each other, they stole the offerings other deities received, they ate the fruits from the trees and from the bushes, they hunted the herds that roamed The Gardens. They drank the fountains of The Gardens dry, and, brewed red wine from the grapes that grew freely from the vines, which had, until then, been endless in length and in fruit. With nectar from flowers they made ambrosia. From roots and from seeds they made thick brews that resembled beer. From the brine meant for olives, they concocted a soulkithing substance. Though the other deities were familiar with the effects, they were not familiar with the procedure. Then, once full and intoxicated, they took to each other. There is no spoken word that can condemn harshly enough the abominations which occurred in those dreadful nights. What was done, was not worthy of those who wish to be called deities. Indeed, let the heaviest of shames fall on them and their descendants (and there were a lot of them).  Having ravaged The Gardens from all that were vital for subsistence. Having driven out all virtuous behavior that is to be expected of a whole pantheon of deities, they slept. They fell asleep, asleep like how lava falls asleep once out of a volcano, asleep, like bears who hibernate….

….As they slept, the other deities, in hiding, discussed what is it that had to be done to smite the pest which was ravaging The Gardens. The vines no longer bore grape, the herds no longer grazed, for there were both an absence of herd and grass, wine had run out and the beer that was left was bitter and thick, like a porridge, the sacrifices and the offerings which were given to deities, no longer were of their enjoyment, for shrines and altars were pillaged by the pests, olives had gone extinct for the pests did not know how to harvest them, and the brine used to prepare the olives for their consumption was no longer available. So the deities had to think. Peace had to be restored to The Gardens, these transgressions could not remain unpunished. So during the unquiet of the day, the deities came forth in their cave. Great orators stood to persuade others to adopt the measures which they saw fit. In the candlelight the deities sat and discussed, they discussed it all: peaceful solutions, deals, treaties, compromises, middle grounds. Violent solutions, noble battles, righteous smiting, pest control. So the deities deliberated. The solution needed to be total. Final. The final solution. As they did, nefarious things were happening on the outside. The stone paths and the pillars and all of the stonework was falling to ruin. The effects of the laziness of the Sergali were manifesting wherever anyone could lay eyes on. They were not careful or dedicated, they were clumsy and apathetic. As things crumbled around them they slept, and they lounged in the sun. They saw no end to it. Let it be known, that the ringleader of this whole shitshow, was Hexia’s very own son. He dictated what their hive-mind had to do, he was, one could say, his mother’s regent. He was powerful. He was the one who led his mother’s hordes against the deities of The Garden. He was feared by the deities. To go against him was to go against a very numerous enemy with a never ending thirst for blood.