Kesair, The Drowned Continent - The Antediluvian Period
I've spent the last few days sinking time into hammering out a map of
the continent I've been working on for Loom, Kesair. Kesair was inspired
by both human flood myths and the Carnian Pluvial Event, or CPE. In the
CPE - there's a PBS Eons video about it I watched, titled "That Time It
Rained For Two Million Years" - humidity increased drastically and
while it didn't rain near-constantly like it does on Kesair, rainfall
was very prevalent, and the climate was predominantly wet. And so here
is a summary of Kesair before the rain - the Antediluvian Period.
---------------
Long ago, before anyone could remember, Kesair was not flooded. The seasons were normal, the skies were clear more often than not, and the land was not strangled by floodwaters. Kesair was watched over by primarily one deity - a g-ddess whose name has been forgotten, or perhaps erased. She only spoke to the Kesairians with words a singular time, and otherwise delivered messages via imagery given to prophets in divine visions. While none can remember what her domain was, folklore has provided ample speculation. Some say she ruled over rain and floodwater. Some say she had no specific domain, and simply ruled over Kesair and it's peoples. Other guesses include emotion, weather, the ocean, revenge, and sadness.
While her true name is lost, mysteriously vanished to the sands of time, some call her Mallach'dior (the curse-bringer), Agg'andiea (the weeping g-ddess), or simply Kotal - she who is lost, misremembered, or forgotten. The way one refers to her can indicate their beliefs about her, and possibly their political stance on some Kesairian issues.. For this post, she will be referred to as Kotal.
The story of why she brought the rains to Kesair is a folktale that every Kesairian knows by heart. Over time, the ancient, Antediluvian peoples of Kesair revered Kotal less, allowing her less of a place in their lives. They stopped offering things to her at the new season, to pray for favorable rains and green harvests. This, she could forgive - she still sent the rains, albeit not as fast as she did before. She still breathed life into the hillsides in spring, and she still whispered to the farmer's harvests until they were vibrant and tall. After all, they had not turned her back on her, she reasoned. It simply seemed they had grown up, into some degree of independence.
As the years passed, though, the peoples of Kesair stopped leaving her offerings all-together. Their reverence, love, and fear for her faded. No longer was she prayed to, no longer were temples erected in her name. Those temples to Kotal that existed already were left dusty, tended to by aging priestesses. She still fulfilled her duties to her people - she brought rain, and prevented any cataclysmic disaster. But Kotal felt within herself growing a feeling of resentment for the people of Kesair - her children, it seemed, had grown ungrateful - and even her G-dly forgiveness had it's limits.
But Kotal's breaking point came when Kesairians began to erect idols to other, false idols. When her work was attributed to non-existent spirits and deities, she stopped bringing the rains on time, and allowed her watchful eye to wander. And after this came the Primeval Droughts - events in the fossil record's layers of stone and rock that indicate periods of unusual dryness, of which there seven. Each Primeval Drought lasted a season, save for the Seventh Drought, which lasted a full calendar year. After the end of the Seventh Drought, Kesairians desperate for a direction to direct their pain and blame to turned to their almost-forgotten deity, she who they had turned away from. Kotal was blamed for the misfortune of the people (an assumption which was, in some capacity, correct).
The year after the Seventh Drought, there came an event called The Illeacht, the Desecration. The Illeacht is also referred to by some as the 'original Kesairian sin'. In the Illeacht, Kotal's temples were burnt to ash, all across Kesair. Her priestesses and adherents were killed, in an attempt to purge her from Kesair and banish the deity they believed was responsible for the Primeval Droughts, and the suffering they brought. Kotal watched as her temples burnt, and the blood of her priestesses was spilt. Kotal, on that day, broke her silence for the first and only time. She spoke, and the prophets on Kesair heard her, whether they wanted to or not. This was the singular time that Kotal's will and message was received in any linguistic capacity. What she said exactly is not remembered, but the message remains.
Today, you burn my temples. Today, you spill the blood of my worshipers onto the soil. Tomorrow, you will revel in a stolen sense of victory. On the anniversary of your blasphemy, you will feel the magnitude of my emotion. One year from today, the rains will never stop.
And with this, Kotal turned her back on Kesair - and, by extension, on Loom. While some Kesairians left, fearing Kotal's words, the majority stayed - disavowing the words of prophets as heretical and ignoring Kotal's decree. However, exactly one year after the destruction of Kotal's temples, a storm hit Kesair. There was no gathering of clouds off the coast, no burgeoning thunder in the distance to foretell their coming. No warning of the oncoming deluge. Heavy, dark storm-clouds appeared in the sky, at a moment's notice, and rain began to fall.
The people of Kesair could not find a rational explanation for the storm. As the lowlands began to flood, and rivers began to overflow, desperation and fear began to overcome Kesair. While all made the connection between the prophecy a year ago and the never-ending rains, no one dared to say it aloud, for fear that Kotal was listening. As the rains continued to fall, and the skies continued to weep with Kotal's fury, it seemed that the whole continent would soon be lost to the flood.
The people began to plea to Kotal for clemency, but if she heard their words, she gave no indication. She had turned her back on Kesair, and the rains continued to fall. And so began the first flood - after a year of rains, Kesair was underwater. The legend goes that all but the highest peaks of Kesair's mountains were submerged in floodwater. This was the First Flood, and the people of Kesair had to come together and work as one to create a way to live, despite the rains.
It is said that in order to survive, the Kesairians split their efforts. Some climbed peaks, and found the precious few areas of land that floodwater had not yet swallowed, and began to create atmospheric control stations, the remains of which still stand today, all these thousands of years later. And others created great glass domes, under which they created dry land - the environmental spheres.
After the First Flood, the people of Kesair adapted and survived. And as the floodwaters calmed, and the continent settled into the routine, and the rain-clouds developed their own seasons, and the Antediluvian era closed. After the construction of the first atmospheric control stations and environmental spheres were completed, And although Kotal was no longer listening, Kesair developed a newfound relationship with her legacy, the nameless g-ddess who brought the rains. The Curse Weaver, The Weeping G-ddess. She who was forgotten.
---------------
Long ago, before anyone could remember, Kesair was not flooded. The seasons were normal, the skies were clear more often than not, and the land was not strangled by floodwaters. Kesair was watched over by primarily one deity - a g-ddess whose name has been forgotten, or perhaps erased. She only spoke to the Kesairians with words a singular time, and otherwise delivered messages via imagery given to prophets in divine visions. While none can remember what her domain was, folklore has provided ample speculation. Some say she ruled over rain and floodwater. Some say she had no specific domain, and simply ruled over Kesair and it's peoples. Other guesses include emotion, weather, the ocean, revenge, and sadness.
While her true name is lost, mysteriously vanished to the sands of time, some call her Mallach'dior (the curse-bringer), Agg'andiea (the weeping g-ddess), or simply Kotal - she who is lost, misremembered, or forgotten. The way one refers to her can indicate their beliefs about her, and possibly their political stance on some Kesairian issues.. For this post, she will be referred to as Kotal.
The story of why she brought the rains to Kesair is a folktale that every Kesairian knows by heart. Over time, the ancient, Antediluvian peoples of Kesair revered Kotal less, allowing her less of a place in their lives. They stopped offering things to her at the new season, to pray for favorable rains and green harvests. This, she could forgive - she still sent the rains, albeit not as fast as she did before. She still breathed life into the hillsides in spring, and she still whispered to the farmer's harvests until they were vibrant and tall. After all, they had not turned her back on her, she reasoned. It simply seemed they had grown up, into some degree of independence.
As the years passed, though, the peoples of Kesair stopped leaving her offerings all-together. Their reverence, love, and fear for her faded. No longer was she prayed to, no longer were temples erected in her name. Those temples to Kotal that existed already were left dusty, tended to by aging priestesses. She still fulfilled her duties to her people - she brought rain, and prevented any cataclysmic disaster. But Kotal felt within herself growing a feeling of resentment for the people of Kesair - her children, it seemed, had grown ungrateful - and even her G-dly forgiveness had it's limits.
But Kotal's breaking point came when Kesairians began to erect idols to other, false idols. When her work was attributed to non-existent spirits and deities, she stopped bringing the rains on time, and allowed her watchful eye to wander. And after this came the Primeval Droughts - events in the fossil record's layers of stone and rock that indicate periods of unusual dryness, of which there seven. Each Primeval Drought lasted a season, save for the Seventh Drought, which lasted a full calendar year. After the end of the Seventh Drought, Kesairians desperate for a direction to direct their pain and blame to turned to their almost-forgotten deity, she who they had turned away from. Kotal was blamed for the misfortune of the people (an assumption which was, in some capacity, correct).
The year after the Seventh Drought, there came an event called The Illeacht, the Desecration. The Illeacht is also referred to by some as the 'original Kesairian sin'. In the Illeacht, Kotal's temples were burnt to ash, all across Kesair. Her priestesses and adherents were killed, in an attempt to purge her from Kesair and banish the deity they believed was responsible for the Primeval Droughts, and the suffering they brought. Kotal watched as her temples burnt, and the blood of her priestesses was spilt. Kotal, on that day, broke her silence for the first and only time. She spoke, and the prophets on Kesair heard her, whether they wanted to or not. This was the singular time that Kotal's will and message was received in any linguistic capacity. What she said exactly is not remembered, but the message remains.
Today, you burn my temples. Today, you spill the blood of my worshipers onto the soil. Tomorrow, you will revel in a stolen sense of victory. On the anniversary of your blasphemy, you will feel the magnitude of my emotion. One year from today, the rains will never stop.
And with this, Kotal turned her back on Kesair - and, by extension, on Loom. While some Kesairians left, fearing Kotal's words, the majority stayed - disavowing the words of prophets as heretical and ignoring Kotal's decree. However, exactly one year after the destruction of Kotal's temples, a storm hit Kesair. There was no gathering of clouds off the coast, no burgeoning thunder in the distance to foretell their coming. No warning of the oncoming deluge. Heavy, dark storm-clouds appeared in the sky, at a moment's notice, and rain began to fall.
The First Flood is a common subject for both Classical and Modern Kesairian artists.
(Image: The Great Flood, Bonaventura Peeters.17th century.)
The people of Kesair could not find a rational explanation for the storm. As the lowlands began to flood, and rivers began to overflow, desperation and fear began to overcome Kesair. While all made the connection between the prophecy a year ago and the never-ending rains, no one dared to say it aloud, for fear that Kotal was listening. As the rains continued to fall, and the skies continued to weep with Kotal's fury, it seemed that the whole continent would soon be lost to the flood.
The people began to plea to Kotal for clemency, but if she heard their words, she gave no indication. She had turned her back on Kesair, and the rains continued to fall. And so began the first flood - after a year of rains, Kesair was underwater. The legend goes that all but the highest peaks of Kesair's mountains were submerged in floodwater. This was the First Flood, and the people of Kesair had to come together and work as one to create a way to live, despite the rains.
It is said that in order to survive, the Kesairians split their efforts. Some climbed peaks, and found the precious few areas of land that floodwater had not yet swallowed, and began to create atmospheric control stations, the remains of which still stand today, all these thousands of years later. And others created great glass domes, under which they created dry land - the environmental spheres.
After the First Flood, the people of Kesair adapted and survived. And as the floodwaters calmed, and the continent settled into the routine, and the rain-clouds developed their own seasons, and the Antediluvian era closed. After the construction of the first atmospheric control stations and environmental spheres were completed, And although Kotal was no longer listening, Kesair developed a newfound relationship with her legacy, the nameless g-ddess who brought the rains. The Curse Weaver, The Weeping G-ddess. She who was forgotten.
okay now this is epic
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