Blood splattered against the fields of the world. Burning heat that crackled against the grass, singing it with divine ichor as a burning blade laid deep within tan flesh. Whitened eyes that stared in discordance as crackles of lightning alit a dark chest. The birth of the first Giant; Borne of divine ichor spilled between flame and thunder. A man of enormous stature, lifting to his feet as blood stained grey skin, sunken black pupils that stared in indifference toward the Gods at war. To his side he clutched his fist, eyes that fell from side to side as blow after blow was met before him. A battle between flame and thunder; A battle of the [[Ra'thori|Everlasting Flame]] and the [[Khor|Lord of Thunder]]. An eon of fighting, of rage. Uncontrollable wrath that dragged the deities into fighting an eternity and stopped at no breadth. Against his feet laid a bloodied form, larger than even he; Stained skin and loose braids that blended into the darkened grass beneath her. A deity of nature, laid broken and withering against the life that once bloomed. She who spoke no words, yet her fingertips held him like a mother would her babe. Even in her dormant state, she was in pain. A pain that was beyond him, eclipsed by the display before him. This fighting that swelled beyond that of normalcy. Emotions and battle that grew until it took physical form. Anger so pure, so enormous that it became quiet. Hollowed eyes as hallow as its form. A being absolute, made of elementalis and divine. A being who stood amongst the Gods, not as their equal, yet of their Pantheon nonetheless. He stared upon his fathers with disdain and without admiration. He looked upon his fists, born of destruction and resolution... For what purpose he held, he knew not. And thus he looked to the skies blackened with ash and cloud. A fate he asked not for and yet it was presented upon him, and a feminine voice that beckoned him forth. A voice that called from the skies itself. His feet took to the earth beneath him, footfalls quaking the dirt and rock as heavy steps found a clearing of empty grassland and thus from his hands did he erect mounds of rock. Large, bloodstained hands that made the earth shudder and crack. From those hands he rose the heights of mountains. From those blessed hands could he ascend greater heights until finally he was met face-to-face with a woman the likes of which he had never seen before. An unspoken beauty that struck his heart, that urged his mind. A Goddess, she spoke, as listless hands fell from ethereal clouds to envelop him. Words that echoed through his mind, of comfort and allure. "You are no beast, born of those oafs. You are giant; strong and unshaken even by their will... Please, come forth, rescue me from this horrid place. I cannot see, I cannot breathe." His hands outstretched to meet hers—enormous palms engulfing hers small and dainty, before encompassing the whole of her form. It was in this embrace he came to learn who, truly, was this being. She, born of the clouds; an arbiter of respite and solitude. She, whose life was burdened by the state of not the fractured earth that burdened him, but rather the skies in which she resided. Her breath was waning as she gripped upon his bloodied form. A voice muffled by the thunderous clouds that struck that earth around them. By the ash that clouded her lungs and burned her eyes. A flicker within. Flame that burned within a fractured soul. A whisper upon his ear, a crack of thunder, darkened eyes that glowed in that darkness swirling around them. Emotion grew from whence there was none. That in which he was once born. Now rose within his chest. His heart. His mind. His soul. He took to that blackened horizon, steps of purpose that bounded against the rock and stone in which he formed. Mountainous rock that shattered and formed life in its stead. Of rock, of flame; Of frost, and of cloud... All whilst he held the small Goddess in his arms. Behind him rose an army, creatures that resembled but a figment of what could be, and yet was not quite. Of life, born in desperation and desire that marched with him to confront the forces that had forsaken them. The forces that dragged the world of Syphora into never-ending soot and lightning. A fight was enacted, blood spilled atop blood as sediment grew hoarse and fractured. Lands that were once flourishing now laid in disarray as the Gods warred to no end. Flesh torn, bones splintered, yet none could die. That was, except for the life born of the mountain. As time passed, so too did fate come to be. The deity once unshaken, now at the heed of the Gods. Those Gods who once fought each other, now burning and crackling against their kneeling son. And still in his grasp did he hold Her. She whose hands never stopped gripping onto his. She whose voice blew like a gust of wind. A calm gale, serene yet melancholy as it reached the ears of those who listened. Beneath the roaring thunder and flame did such wind reach the Gods. A voice of sorrow, listless and somber... "Let the wind carry you. Let my gale find your form. Let it cradle you—hold you like a babe until you are rested. There will be no end, for we are Gods... Do not let our fathers burden you, my love..." A dark hand reached toward them, fingertips of flame snatching the space in which they stood, only to find air in their stead. Burning eyes that snapped to crackling thunder, as tired eyes looked despondently in turn. Rage that was now met with lost courage. "Stop... Now..." Came a broken voice; Croaking against a tired throat as the [[Nothrih|Goddess of Wilds]] mustered what little left remained. Eyes that flicked between her and once more to one another. "Our kin suffer." Came a thunderous voice. "To kill them, would be to kill ourselves." The flame begun to sizzle. "Let us halt, brother, for our purpose has become hapless." "**You cower! Your strength is not enough. Admit your defeat was from the start!**" The flames burned. "No. There is no fate in these lands. Not of what we have wrought." "**Fight me, then, coward! You know not the purpose of these lands. Save your pointless words for the end of our battle!!**" The flames raged upward. "There is no battle. War has blindsided us, and we are the makers of another." A pause, enough for a burning blade to swing upward and slicing through the cheek of the God of Thunder. Concentrated, flickering eyes stared upon him unbothered. "You will regret every strike this twilight. Goodbye, brother." "**You will not-**" A flash of lightning, a noise that shattered the skies, booming across the scarred fields in a flash of light that faded unto the absence of God of Thunder and of Wilds. Only did the God of Flame persist; Standing with his sword gouging the earth, flame erupting around his form and engulfing what remained. No longer did thunder strike from the darkened clouds and yet still did ash cover what was once green. Rage erupted from the God as flames enveloped his hulking form. Rage that called unto every corner of this world before erupting in an inferno that charred the region forevermore. Never could life grow, no longer did the waters rush. Barren and hapless, yet free of destruction. What remained, now, were His mountains. Saved from their astounding heights, now bearing the fractured God and his companion. He lied upon those craggy peaks, blood trickling against rock and stone as She held him close. Tears fell against his form and from them rose a mist. Tear after tear fell from her cheeks until those peaks grew cloudy, of mist and cloud that enveloped the skies and blotted them from sight... Eyes looked on upon those mountains; Eyes of discordance that felt no place to be but up upon those peaks and thus, they marched, and yet, none found the same direction amongst the cloudy earth around them. Rocky forms that crumbled with each step. Stone and ice that took upon the form of their Father. The Giants, yet now they roamed a land they knew nothing about save for their Father's purpose and conviction. For the mountainous peaks that spread throughout the world itself. Born, thus, unto Syphora, for a fate untold...