Zynterra
The Allmother | The Queen of the Seraphim | The Great Creator | The Quake and the Penance
Patronage:
Life, Earth, Creation, Lawful Justice
Primary Clerical Order:
Propitiation:
Benevolence, forgiveness, altruism.
Date of Manifestation:
Sometime before 595 BE.
Family:
By her husband Feidhleamad, Zynterra has three children. Ghazreli was born sometime before 595 BE. Kerna was born 425 FED. Naxera was born 898 FED.
Creation, Division, Seclusion
Zynterra is widely accepted to have been the creator of all life on Rivaazlin. The story goes that Zynterra's creations were imperfect, as they were mortal. The Allmother was heartbroken that she could not grant them eternal life such as her own. As a gift to his sister, Somnan is said to have created the Endless Dream, where the soul could carry on without the body, somewhat perfecting Zynterra's designs. These early mortals were supposedly united in one form and one language.
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After an unclear period of peace and tranquility, mortals grew greedy. They began to crave the might of the Gods, and set in motion plans to trap them and extract their power. The Gods were insulted, and Zynterra was ashamed of the greed that had grown in her creations. So came the Great Fissure. Zynterra warped the bodies of all mortals into the races known today before immense earthquakes carved Rivaazlin into its continents. The Allmother even freed her brother Lugh from exile, who then drove the continents apart with waves of biblical proportions. All the while, Aetr twisted the shared tongue into dozens of languages, dividing the peoples that shared continents further.
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Zynterra and the Gods once thought these punishments good. As the divided mortals squabbled amongst themselves, their aspirations to control the Gods were forgotten. However the wars of mortals worsened and worsened, eventually resulting in the Era of Swords, a period of 777 continuous years of war. Come the end of this bloody affair, Zynterra disappeared. Not even the other Gods know of her location, and she has been absent for over two millennia now.
The working theory among both Gods and mortals is that she has exiled herself, ashamed of how her actions drove mortals down a dark path. Her brother Somnan has taken great pains as regent to incentivize her return, shaping the world and pantheon to how he believes she would wish it to be.
Appearance:
The appearance of the Seraphim morphs to resemble the race of the beholder. In many cases, the Seraphim appear human, as humans have long since monopolized art and depictions, skewing the expectations of other races. Though there are still many facets of a Seraph's appearance that are consistent across depictions.
Zynterra is shown with dark auburn hair. It varies in length, often at least reaching the small of the back. Her eyes are a piercing, vibrant green. Those who venerate her show her in immense, billowing, white robes, though descriptions often instead describe her wearing simple brown garments.
Background:
This text constitutes one of the earliest preserved accounts of the Great Fissure. To the annoyance of the Glenkarst Historical Archive, this piece has remained locked up in the Tsartower, even after the fall of the eponymous tyrants, now in the possession of the ruling barony.
Archival records indicate this was transcribed from oral tradition in 483 ES. This particular copy was likely produced by Raibhilín Mac Murchadha, chief archivist for Tsar Gerion I at the time, or an understudy of his. It is possible that the story was relayed by the Seanchaí Suibhne Mór Ó Cearbhall, who dined with Gerion I in the winter of that year.
What makes this account unique is the centrality of the cloch clamhartha or ‘tearing stone’ to the text, along with Mac Murchadha’s various guesses at the location of the stone. He suggests everything from various rock formations in the Garvan Hills to the entire mountain of Inismullagh.
Account of the Great Fissure from the Archives of the Tsars of Norem
Mortals were greedy. They were to take the power of the Gods. This would not come to pass, as Zynterra took great offence. She walked upon the soil she provided for us long ago, taking with her the blessing of Uren Ka, and the great cloch clamhartha (tearing stone). She knelt at the centre of all things, and she spoke through the earth so that all might hear her anguish.
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‘My heart has held you long, my children. But your greed and hate has made it black,’ she said.
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The punishments began. With Uren Ka’s blessing, she borrowed the sun from its wielder and brought it close to the soil. The soil then cracked and fissured. The crops withered and burned, and the great ocean that surrounded all things dried up.
Then, with the force of a half-hundred legions was the cloch clamhartha pushed into the cracked soil. The people of Rivaazlin knelt before her tearing and pleaded.
They offered secrets not whispered in seven lifetimes. Zynterra pushed, and the first island was born. ‘These secrets are known by Aetr. Aetr from whom you begged for your enemy’s untold things.’
They offered stories and prose and songs of merriment to lighten her heart. Zynterra pushed and sent great mountains up like fingers into the sky. ‘These tales are known by Tul Nerad. Tul Nerad whom you called liar when he told of our deeds and love for you.’
They offered great tools and weapons, the finest ever smithed. Zynterra pushed the great rending stone, carving the dark caverns below. ‘These skills were shared by Uren Ka. Now you design great traps to hold him and other Gods.’
They offered the food of their stores, that which had survived the scorching. Zynterra pushed again, and about the prying stone burst forth the lava that scorched what remained. ‘These crops were grown by Omnil. Crops that you have horded as your brethren starved.’
They offered the greatest arts that had been passed down by mouth and by page. And they offered the earnest love of their hearts. And they offered their deepest reverence. Zynterra was offended and gave a great push, and the quake threw every home into rubble. And the gentry retreated and the cruel and cowardly fell between the cracks and were made monstrous. ‘These arts were first of Feidhleamad. Feidhleamad who has loved me better and more truly than any of you. His love is constant, and it is without expectation. Yours is a fleeting love.’
At this, her brother the Dreamer spoke. ‘My sister, the twins of tales and tongues have twisted. Every being hears nonsense at his neighbour’s call. Those that make sense of things fight over truth and history. Is Rivaazlin not punished enough?’
The Mother of All Things and Land and Life gave one final push, and the rending stone was split. The leathchloch fell upon the fearless penitent, but Zynterra gripped the stone, and they were saved, and these were chosen. They were forgiven, and they were made strong and given gifts, so that they might repair the world. They were given parchment with many writings upon it. And they were given the seeds to grow the new world. And they were given the life to see their work endure.
And in the commotion, of which there was much, appeared the exiled brother. And he spoke smugly, saying, ‘I am proven, and you have lost. Return me to the Dream and I shall help.’
If Zynterra had not been stopped by one brother, then she would have stopped at the words of the other. She perceived him and cried, ‘Fall, brother, between these lands and beneath, if you have learned nothing.’
The Exile saw the thick clouds and the empty rivers and seas. And then smiling, he declared, ‘You will need me yet, sister. When in the darkness no mortal sees your light.’
The Gods then looked upon their work and were pleased.