The Parchment of History

The Vast Universe and The Enigmatic Void

The universe, as we define it, encompasses absolutely everything. Every timeline that has ever begun and every dimension ever created. There are more dimensions than any being can fathom, each existing independent of, and blind to, all others. The universe also includes The Void, a labyrinthian nether region that undulates between and touches the full boundaries of every dimension, in effect both separating and connecting them all. Throughout The Void are access points into and out of dimensions. These portals remain locked in times of balance but can be opened to allow for adjustment of the universal makeup and to restore balance. The Void is our domain. We are The Divinities. And we oversee all.

The Divine Siblings: Guardins of Existence

We are The Divinities. A consortium of six siblings, each embodying one of the forces needed for existence... TYDE summons Water. Volatile as an ocean, calm as a bay, they pool, they rain, they flood. IGNIS brings Fire. He warms, he burns, he melts, he spreads. And he explodes. ACRE molds Earth. With clay, mud, sand, and stone, he amasses the land and carves the landscape. TEMPEST commands Storm. Her fury humbles. She is lightning; she is hail; she is whirlwind. SENTINEL controls Aether. Gravity and the space between spaces are his to wield. The portals from The Void that lead into every dimension are his to open and shut. And I am EPOCH, mistress of Time and keeper of this Parchment of History. Without me, nothing can happen. I am yesterday and tomorrow. I am the beginning of all things. And I will be the end. For eternity, from The Void, we have presided over the universe and maintained the balance. We decide the fate of worlds, of galaxies, of dimensions.

Mystra: A World Seeking Harmony

The world of Mystra began as most life-sustaining worlds begin. The primordial crucible, with its infinite array of outcomes, yielded a planet with a perfectly balanced mix of elements. Only one in a trillion is so fortunate. Or perhaps, unfortunate. As can occur, a species grew to dominance, with the capacity to shape the world to its liking. They were a great mix of impulses. They were capable of many of the gifts of existence, including humor, art, music, love, empathy, engineering, and critical thought, but also a modicum of its more dangerous vices, like avarice, deceit, jealousy, and spite. Predictably, their evolution was one filled with great advances and mired in tragic setbacks. As typically happens with such species, their technological prowess often exceeded their emotional maturity, and there came a time when the power of their creations became so volatile as to threaten their own very existence. Most species do not survive this equation. The odds of disaster increase with each successive conflict and every new miscalculation. And war is the exponent that brings inevitability. Petty differences and greed turned into hate and violence. That violence expanded from isolated local feuds into full-scale, nearly constant global wars. The land and air and seas paid a terrible price. The planet's favored species, to whom all had been gifted, was blindly murdering their home. And sealing their own fate alongside it. It was at this time that we, the Divinities, took notice.

Sentinel's Quest: Embrasing Mystra's Path to Balance

At Sentinel's summons, we convened to decide the fate of Mystra. The people of Mystra had shown such promise -- they had advanced so far -- but an unlucky turn had enabled them to unlock a terrible power. A technology whose use over time threatened not just their world but the entire dimension. There were other worlds and peoples, early in their development, that would blink out of existence if Mystra was allowed to destroy itself. We did not let that happen. The six of us agreed that Mystra should be saved. But the people could not be left to their own devices again. We would have to provide them with guidance and deliver a new paradigm. One that would eliminate weaponry and warfare while installing a balanced system of governance and arbitration that all would obey. Sentinel took it upon himself to search for such a system. He opened the Portals within The Void and reached his senses out into every dimension of existence. This brought him to a tiny world called Earth. There were many nations on Earth, each with its own ideology and brand of government. But even the most successful were mired in inequity and susceptible to instability. They would not suffice. Still, the sense of something else drew Sentinel closer -- a game that had transcended the nations of Earth and endured for more than a millennium. A game so precise and balanced that it was unimpeachable. A game called Chess. From the shadows, Sentinel observed tournaments unfolding where masters dueled; parks where strangers of all walks jousted; children's rooms where families and friends faced off; clubs at institutions of learning where the intricacies were taught and practiced; and even individuals on public transportation, testing their mettle against AI programs on hand-held devices. No matter what theme or aesthetic the pieces took, the principles and the moves were the same. And the game was so beloved, respected, and consuming, at any given time, somewhere on Earth, a board was being set, and a new match was afoot. Sentinel had found Mystra's solution.

Sentinel's Legacy: Shaping a Harmonious World

He brought Chess into The Void to the rest of us, and it was instant kismet. The balance was inescapable -- six pieces to play the game, six Divinities to wield them. What's more, each of us was immediately drawn to a specific Chess piece... The Pawn made Tyde gush. The Knight made Ignis blush. The Bishop made Tempest sparkle. The Rook made Acre quake. The Queen sang to me. And the King filled Sentinel with awe. Perfectly matched, the six of us went to work... Our bodies are hewn from an ore called Arellium. It is the only substance in existence dense enough to house our magic. With great effort, we can sacrifice a piece of ourselves and fashion this ore into physical instruments that can be sent from The Void to do our will. We call these instruments ORBS. One by one, each of us set out to harvest and shape our Orb and infuse it with our unique power.

Tyde and the Pawn of Water

Do not judge Tyde by their size. Their diminutive frame holds the key to life itself. Kid-like and fanciful, they have a buoyant nature, with a communal spirit that seeks to lift others up. Still, their passions run deep -- so deep you can drown in them. They have a preternatural curiosity and a thirst for experience. They watch in wonder every time a new dimension takes shape, endlessly fascinated by the slightest nuance. Because of this irrepressible enthusiasm, the other Divinities, myself included, have to remind ourselves that Tyde is not a child. The constant drain of time has not jaded them in the least. I wish it were so for me. Tyde siphoned their Arellium into the shape of the Pawn. Focusing inward, they touched the calm pools within themself and set them to swirling... Deeper and deeper, faster and faster, the vortex lifted Tyde into the air, head bent low, arms stretched wide. Until their eyes and the floodgates sprang open, and geysers of pure ethereal water magic erupted from each of their limbs, splashing through the air and colliding together to form a single surging stream. The Arellium Pawn lit from within, and a siren's song called out to the stream, which rose into a massive swell and then swept into the Orb like a massive wave breaking onto shore. The Void around Tyde shook and pulsed until finally, the deluge dried, and the water Divinity flopped to the floor, utterly spent, gasping for breath. They lay there, drained and soaked, while the newly minted Pawn of Water glowed with life and power, With Tyde's magic rippling within it, the Pawn of Water emits a cool and pacifying presence. The energy it gives off is wistfully optimistic, as if it is eternally gazing at a bright horizon and seeing the promise of a new day. Its guiding characteristic is an eagerness for whatever the moment requires. Even sacrifice. And while it holds the power of sweeping change that can wipe a world clean, its magic bestows sustenance, triggers growth, and inspires transformation. A symbol of life, it represents resilience and adaptability, a tribute to water's relentless flow.

Ignis and the Knight of Fire

The Divinity Ignis is as impulsive and innovative as the fire magic he wields. All it takes is a spark to set him off, and the path he blazes never moves the same way twice. He can be brash and severe, indiscriminately lashing out, consequences be damned, but there's a mesmerizing charm to him that draws one in and enlivens the imagination. He is pure emotion, and we count on him to remind us of where we come from and what's in our hearts. He keeps us from overthinking. But sometimes he must be tempered. No matter what happens, no matter how painful an experience, Ignis shrugs it off and moves on. He forgets trauma and remains pure. I envy this. I can never forget. Ignis melted his Arellium into the shape of the Knight. A light sparked within his eyes, and a ball of fire erupted above like a sun taking in its first breath. The temperature of the entire Void rose as Ignis fed and fanned the flames. Like laughter, they peaked and fell, and the inferno swelled larger and more magnificent with every lick. When it could be contained no longer, the fireball exploded, blowing Ignis off his feet and sending him sprawling to the ground in a smoldering heap. Ash burned off the Arellium Knight, leaving it immaculate and glowing. Ignis managed to lift his head to gaze upon his new creation. He mustered a satisfied grin before promptly passing out. Within the Knight of Fire's smooth frame, licks of flame forever flutter, and tiny combustible crackles and pops eternally echo. It emanates a heat that quickens the heart and fevers the skin, reminding all who feel it that great power should be feared and cannot truly be contained. Its magic delivers destructive and adrenalizing might, while also illuminating new paths and possibilities. It embodies courage and unexpected maneuvers, representing the spark that can alter the dynamics of any situation. The Knight of Fire stands as a spirited emblem of ambition and determination, provoking the will to conquer.

Tempest and the Bishop of Storm

Where Ignis suddenly explodes, Tempest prefers to announce her presence and intentions. Supremely confident and strategic, she warns you before she acts, savoring the anticipation as much if not more than the moment of truth. She knows her force is unstoppable. Her ferocity builds and can grow to mind-numbing and fear-provoking fury, but always there is a calm at her center. It can frustrate her that we, her siblings, know we can count on this -- that as wild as she can seem, she never loses control. But there is also a freedom she feels from being understood on such a deep level. It allows her to let loose, push her own boundaries, and glimpse her full potential. Tempest carefully carved her Arellium out of herself and into the shape of the Bishop. Then she sat there and stared at it for what felt like a lifetime, contemplating the emptiness she would fill, taking pleasure in its simplicity. The quiet before the storm. Until, with the snap of her fingers, a pulse of electricity cast at the Orb's center. Flickering faintly, appearing to go out, and then finding steady purchase. A chilling wind picked up all around the Storm Divinity, taking her aloft and turning her hair into a cyclone. The entirety of her body brightened into a blinding white light, until the edges of her silhouette bled with static, and in a flash, she became a single ferocious bolt of lightning that struck the Arellium Bishop precisely in its heart. The accompanying thunderclap rolled throughout The Void. Then, again... quiet. And Tempest slept, starting the long recharge, with her newly dawned Bishop of Storm devoutly standing guard. Twisters of energy crisscrossed with sharp stabs of light infinitely frolic within The Bishop of Storm. A low and constant rumble resounds ominously. When you hear it, you cannot help but feel that it's coming for you. Its movements are purposeful, altering the course of events and precipitating rapid transformation in its wake. With the power to change the board and scatter the pieces, all take notice when The Bishop of Storm takes flight. Being both dreadful and wondrous, its magic incites fear and stimulates devotion.

Acre and the Rook of Earth

Acre is the strong silent type. Ponderous and purposeful, his conclusions are impeccably drawn, and it's impossible to move him from a considered stance. The Void can go eons without a word from him, so when he speaks, we listen. Reliable and resilient. practical and reasoned. If there is a bottom line, Acre always finds and defends it. He keeps us honest and humble, which is no small feat. Of course, however, his actual feet are enormous -- and his shoes, therefore, almost impossible to fill. Acre would tell me that humor is timeless, which is why I should refrain from employing it. I cannot argue. Acre harvested his Arellium from deep within his gut and magically compressed it into the shape of the Rook. He focused, and from within, the rook filled with luminescent sand, each grain a glowing star. With an arch of his brow, a rich soil filtered in, so dark it absorbed all light from the sand. Then Acre spread his arms wide and brought his great hands together in a deafening clap. The sand and soil fused into smoldering magma. The magma cooled into jagged rock. The rock crystallized into sleek diamonds. And finally, the diamonds joined together to form a stalwart core of solid earth magic. Hunger brought Acre to one knee, and he solidified there in that pose, like a statue, replenishing himself as he slept. Rooted deeply like an unyielding bastion, the Rook of Earth is a testament to steadfast resolve. It stands its ground, undeterred by shifting landscapes, reflecting the power of patience and determination. Its surface appears bejeweled, reflecting the beauty that's possible when planetary forces are left to their own devices. It is the product of great care, nurturing, and love. These values inspire loyalty, which the rook embodies. It stands as a symbol of protection and dependability, never yielding in the face of challenge. Never shaken, forever stable.

Epoch and the Queen of Time

I suppose it's high time I shine the history keeper's light on myself... I am Epoch. I orchestrate the ebb and flow of events, leaving history in my wake and safeguarding the secrets of the future. Some have called me relentless and uncompromising. I prefer to think of myself as precise. I lead by example, setting the rules and following them faithfully. Are they strict? Are they exacting? Of course. If I were any less exacting, the universe would descend into chaos with nothing to hold on to. Time provides mooring. For this reason, my mind is impenetrable, and I cannot be distracted. You can count on me, and I count and keep track of you and everything else. It is not lost on me that in my absence, there would be no death. No expiration dates. This is a cause of sadness for many, and they often curse me. But remember, I also heal all wounds. I cannot give up a hand, even for the short period it would take to grow back. So, I severed a foot to provide the Arellium needed and magically eroded it into the shape of the Queen. Spinning clockwise on one leg, as steadily as two, arms entwining in a delicate dance, my magic manifested into a swirl of ticking stardust around me. The first spires rose slowly from the vortex, testing the air and then spiraling down toward the waiting Orb. Recognizing its scent, they spread around its sleek shape, picking the spot of entry, then seeping gently in. More spires sprang as my momentum increased, following the same path. The Queen started spinning to match me, brightening with every revolution, until a burst erupted out so intense it turned the entirety of The Void gold for an instant. All but I had to screw their eyes shut. Mine burned but persevered as I witnessed the grandeur of the Queen of Time's completion. Tall and proud and gilded in regal radiance, there's nowhere the Queen of Time can't go. Nothing it can't see. Every square, every corner is its domain. Its reach is limitless; its rule absolute. The power it wields is unmatched. The power of foresight and recall. The power to whither. The power to heal. The other pieces march, glide, or go step-by-step. The Queen struts, every stride bold with authority and governance. And when it moves, a hush descends, and time seems to stop, leaving the rest of the board suspended with wonder. Breathless. Waiting to witness... What. Will. Transpire. Next.

Sentinel and the King of Aether

Sentinel understands the universe better than anyone. He is in touch with the forces that shape it, and he is our eyes into any dimension. Infinitely patient and even-tempered, Sentinel's scholarly demeanor can be off-putting. He is a logician and it's almost impossible to get a rise out of him. It can be done, however, with persistence and if you know the right buttons to press, but you may not like the results. He can eviscerate with his intellect, and his sense of humor goes over most beings' heads. So, you may not even realize you've been eviscerated. He can make things disappear in a blink -- sent into the vacuum of space, or, for devices, ideas, and occasionally beings deemed too dangerous for existence, into the unseen prison that is the space between spaces. He wields this power sparingly, of course. In the hands of someone less conscientious, it could be disastrous. Responsible to a fault, he always sees the big picture and puts the balance of existence ahead of even his own fortune. With all his considerable strength, Sentinel rubbed his palms together, painfully flaying Arellium dust that hovered in the air and accumulated into the form of the King. He then plucked out an eye and vanquished it into the center of the piece, bringing the ethereal blue glow of his iris to each of its windows. The eye surveyed its new environs, then closed in deep contemplation. In the quiet of those thoughts, Sentinel built a bridge and transferred his power into the new Orb. This would allow the six Orbs to physically travel from The Void into Mystra's dimension. This would allow the power they each had been imbued with to fully express in that plane of existence. But the transmission of his power left Sentinel shaken and feverish. Not merely nearly mortal, but also completely detached from his magic. He needed to seek me out for healing and the regeneration of a new eye. Until that was complete, he would be vulnerable... The focus of all endeavors ultimately finds the King of Aether. In this way, the piece is magnetic. Like a body of great mass in space, it attracts and pulls other masses toward and around it. Some of these masses protect it; others attempt to bombard it. But the piece itself has so much gravitas, it barely moves. The King's gaze is bright and meaningful. It radiates with importance, humbling those around it and inspiring awe, jealousy, respect, and fear. The magic it possesses can expel impurity, smite enemies, bolster allies, or even make them invulnerable. It has the power to shape and change reality and thus must be handled with great care. As long as the King of Aether survives, there is hope.

The Birth of Anichess and the Promise of Lasting Harmony

In the aftermath of creating our Orbs of Power, as we began the long recuperation needed to reclaim our strength, a deep satisfaction permeated through the six of us. We all felt it -- an understanding that we were setting in motion a solution that would greatly benefit Mystra and bring the potential for lasting stability to its dimension. The people of Mystra had endured centuries of strife and violence. It touched every family in every society. The collective and generational trauma of their past was like a great ache that all had surrendered to and believed to be everlasting. We could feel their pain and hopelessness and the deep, sad, futile wish for change. Chess was the gift that would set them free. On Earth, it is a game that takes a lifetime to study, with nearly limitless combinations of moves and responses, and no match exactly the same. The rules are precise, but within them, there is room for creativity and innovation. Each player's individual vision and spark alters how the game unfolds and what becomes possible. With our magic added to it, the contest would take on a new hue. One that brings immediacy and a greater call for spontaneity. Every turn could see a game-changing development that could alter the lines and necessitate a shift in strategy. The contest would become an event that, like a more frenetic sport, would hold the promise of moment-to-moment excitement and thereby draw in the imagination of spectators. In this manner, it has the allure to entice and build an enduring commitment that can resonate with all walks of life. What other system of governance can claim this? Once installed, no longer would the capacity to destroy determine what ideas or people had power. As the new arbiter of all decisions and disputes for Mystra, Chess would deliver a future devoid of bloodshed. One where resources could be spent on the betterment of society and the safety and health of all. Champions would represent nations, boards, corporations, movements, individuals, and even ideas, with skill and prowess becoming the only measure of victory and success. A true meritocracy. But first, we must rest...

Shadow of Betrayal: the Unforeseen Threat of Chance's Rebellion

Ignis awoke, still drained from the Orb-creating effort but able to summon the strength to rise. He patted the newly minted Knight of Fire and, on unsteady feet, returned to the central chamber, ready to gloat that he was the first of us to revive. What he saw stopped him in his tracks. Chance, our vassal, a powerful immortal himself but subservient to the Divinities, was standing above the unconscious Sentinel, weaving a spell. If the six of us are a royal court, Chance is our jester. He would be one of us save that his magic is volatile and unpredictable, and therefore impossible to rely on. In what we do, dependability is paramount -- balance depends on it. But there are times when we've required the assistance of his unique powers. Creation almost always includes a modicum of luck -- either bad or good -- and accident -- happy or otherwise. The nature of Chance's power delivers just that. He had always served faithfully, albeit with a slightly surly edge. What he was doing at this moment, alone with weakened and wounded Sentinel, Ignis could not guess. But it was highly irregular. "Chance!" Ignis exclaimed, interrupting the jester's incantation. "Your magic is not necessary here. Sentinel will revive without assistance, and Epoch will heal him to full body and strength." Chance turned to face the Fire Divinity, nodding agreement. "To be sure, Ignis. My apologies." He bent his head in supplication, and Ignis relaxed. "But that is precisely what I am trying to avoid!" the Jester spit. He thrust his arms forward and a black web of magic erupted from his fingertips, darting straight for Ignis. Nothing catches my fiery brother by surprise -- he has a hair trigger and can flare instantaneously. His Fire magic would easily extinguish the Snare Chance had unleashed. Usually, but not this day. His body lit with flame, but in his weakened state it sputtered, and the black tendrils took hold and slammed him to the far wall, painfully pinned. Chance smiled, satisfied, and stepped forward as Ignis struggled futilely against his bonds. "I've waited for a moment like this. When the six of you are spent. I've been patiently stirring pots, knowing eventually one would boil over and require the full attention of the Divinities." He tilted his head like a curious kitten, his face a breath from my brother's. "After all, the six of you are nothing if not... predictable." He reversed course with a flourish, heading back toward Sentinel. Ignis pushed and pressed for a spark, but it would not come. "I will kill y--!" With a flick of his wrist, Chance sent another tendril that bullseyed Ignis' mouth, silencing him. "So much bravado. Do not worry. When I have Sentinel's other eye, I will make you my right hand." Now, Ignis understood -- this was a coup. If Chance could excise Sentinel's remaining eye before the other was regenerated, Sentinel's immortal life would end, and Chance would acquire the sight and power of Aether. Able to define reality in a blink of thought, the rest of the Divinities would be at his mercy. The would-be usurper closed in on Sentinel again, and all Ignis could do was watch...