LORE - The Exodus of Tiamati

NOTE: The Lore of Verdant is less about what actually happens and more about what the people of Verdant accept to be true. A combination of mythology, folklore and tall tales told to children before bedtime, it is like a spiderweb of their people's past. Full of holes but none the less capable of ensnaring the collective consciousness of an entire culture. Take it with a grain of salt, but never forget that all such stories have a grain of truth if you keep looking hard enough! 

The sublime goddess Tiamati guards over the people of Verdant. Upon her shoulders is a wrapping of deepest night, dazzled with starlight and comets. Upon her feet are fine shoes embroidered with gold. When she walks, the land is said to be calm and quiet in honor of her passing. But when she lifts her fists in fury, great storms shake the clouds and lightning flashes through the skies! She is a force to be feared and loved, worshiped and adored. This is much the same for all goddesses, regardless of their place. But it was not always so. In the oldest tomes, read only by those who have the clarity, there are stories which speak of a time before Tiamati came to Verdant. When she was not a sovereign goddess, but merely one of many, all sworn to fealty to the great and powerful god, Erotid.
 
This was a time of troubles for the Land of Gods, for though there were many gods who oversaw many things, none could act without first seeking permission of Erotid. He claimed this as his right, and in every temple of humanity, he must first be honored above all honors. No supplications could be heard without his approval, and the gods often felt that their hands were tied. But Erotid was determined to hold his power to himself, lest the others in their pantheon seek to dethrone him. This was a terrible thing, for Erotid, while he was magnificently powerful, was also prone to laziness and fits of drink. Many times, his stubborn nature resulted in bad things on earth.   
 
Once, because he felt slighted in a ritual, the goddess of childbirth was kept in the Heavens, and so the women of the world were held in perpetual pregnancy, their children stuck in the dark womb before birth. Another time, Erotid did not feel he had been given enough gratitude, and so he held the god of the final breath at his feet. Those who suffered in sickness and pain could not pass, and lingered in their misery for ages before he could be persuaded to calm his temper. Always there was something that irked him, and often the gods thought it was due to nothing but his desire to keep them all fearful of his intemperance. Finally it was agreed that something must be done to quell him and allow the gods to act on their own without constantly seeking his leave. His brother, the god Nameal, was selected to speak and convince him of their wisdom.   
 
After much discussion, it was decided that in order to keep Erotid happy, each of the gods must select from among their daughters the most lovely and pleasing of disposition. They would each offer Erotid their daughter in marriage as a vow that none would rise against him if allowed to properly and effectively rule their dominions. This offer pleased the god, and he accepted them all, giving him no fewer than one thousand wives who would from then on live to keep him calm and well amused.   
 
For a time, all was well. The gods and goddesses were now able to act freely and of their own accord, so long as Erotid was always given his proper due. The world was put into order, and humanity was able to thrive. But soon, a new problem began to rise. Gods do not die as humans do, for ichor flows in their veins like water from a spring. Yet they may wither and rot if they are forgotten, and this is what Erotid feared above all else. That one day his name would no longer be heard in prayers. One day it occurred to him that is was best if he always had those who would worship and adore him, and that the best way to dot his was for him to have children who could glorify his name.   
 
Yet so greedy and so possessive was Erotid, that even with one thousand wives he could not be convinced to give enough of himself to them for a child to take root! Angry with their failure, he threatened to have them all sent back to their families in shame, or to made into servants cleaning the rugs and chamber pots! But his brother Nameal convinced him that it would be wiser, and less offensive to the families, if he were to instead offer to make whoever could become pregnant with his child his Queen, set above all others. So a challenge was set, and each of the women was set before him with the chance to gain queenship for herself. One by one they all tried, but no ones womb would quick, for still Erotid was too selfish to give up anything from himself.   
 
Finally, there came Tiamati's turn. A minor goddess of no great standing, when she approached her husband she was asked what it was that she had been set over. She explained that she had no dominion of her own, for when she was born, all other had been taken, and her parents could think of nothing to give her. Erotid was amused by the prospect of a goddess of nothingness, but she was given her turn none the less. To everyone's shock, Tiamati's womb took nothing and made it into something, swelling with full and ample life! No one could explain it, and yet there she stood, proud and pregnant with the only known child of Erotid. At first, the god was overjoyed! He lavished Tiamati with affection and presents, giving her the very best to ensure she would be in good spirits and the infant born healthy. But he continued to put off giving her the crown she has been promises, much to her chagrin.
 
Once the child was born, things became so much worse. Now convinced of his right to control all, Erotid threw Tiamati from his bed and back among the wives. He claimed the son for himself, and began to spread the rumor that he had given birth to the child as proof of his own imminent divinity. Tiamati was furious! Not only had she done the impossible she had been denied the crown that was now hers by right, and her son had been stolen from her. She began to quietly plot revenge, and she was soon to find help in an unlikely place. Nameal had seen all that had taken place, and it was clear that Erotid's brother was at his wits end. He came to Tiamati and told her that, if she could be patient, he would do what he could to aid her in her revenge. The rightful queen agreed, but she was no fool. She had been tricked and lied to once, she would not let it happen again so easily. 

With Erotid distracted, Tiamati began to sneak warriors and the gods of warriors into the private seraglio of the god. She encouraged her fellow wives to do what they could with the right partners. Without the selfishness of their husband involved, most of the wives took to pregnancy easily, and soon Tiamati was ready to act. She put on her finest clothes and began to weep, tearing out her hair. When a servant came to inspect the commotion, she pleaded to him her sorrow, saying that if she could not be with her beloved Erotid once more, even just for a night, she would surely kill herself with grief. For several nights she did this, until finally Nameal came, insisting that her husband wished to speak with her. As they traveled to the royal bedchamber, Nameal handed the woman a large dagger. He told her that if she would but slice Erotid's throat as he slept, her son would be the new god above all gods, and she would rule until he came of age. He assured her that the other gods had agreed to this plan, and Tiamati went forward to do what she must.   
 
Gods do not die. They wither and rot if they are forgotten, but they can not be killed. But they can be weakened. Tiamati did not merely slit his throat. Instead, she poisoned his wine to dull his senses, and then proceeded to cut his body  into many hundreds of parts! Each one she laid out so that a passing bird would take it for a meal and fly it far away, all save for the last piece. His heart, Tiamati kept for herself, both as an assurance that Erotid would never reform, and as a reminded that this god had been heartless from the beginning, and no one ought to have sympathy for him. Yet her troubles were not over yet! When she exited the bedchambers and went to find her son, she discovered the young prince to be dead in his sheets, his eyes cold as glass. Before she could act, Nameal showed up with the guards, and who should he blame for the two murders but the woman standing there in blood soaked garments and wielding a knife?   
 
Tiamati was taken and thrown back among the other wives, and Nameal stood above them all. Of course, as Erotid's sole surviving kin, it was up to him to take the throne. And how wonderful of a benefit that so many of the other gods and goddesses supported him! He ordered the guards to kill each and every one of his brother's widowed wives.. As they had all belonged to Erotid, he could not bare the thought of disgracing his brother's memory by taken them as wives.   
 
But Tiamati, who had not trusted Nameal, had prepared for this. As each warrior had visited their residence, they had squirrel away something of theirs. Armor, helmets, weapons, and on her signal each of the wives rose up to defend themselves. They were untried and untrained, but they outnumbered their guards ten to one! With shrieks of anger and fury, they attacked, tearing through the guards, Namel, and the palace itself. As chaos ensued, they set fire to the rooms, taking what they could to sustain themselves and leaving behind the cold and empty lives they had been pressed into. They followed Tiamati, the goddess who had given them the chance to free themselves, down from the Land of Gods to the land of men.