The primal Chaos. It was perfect. No Fate. No Titans. No Gods. Infinite potential for everything. Pure and unfettered randomness. But, in that swirling vortex Order rose to the surface. It manifested, pulled it’s way free and stretched as far from it’s maker as it could. And the Universe was born.
The rest came flowing quickly after.
Order led way to a plethora of concepts that flooded the universe. Titans arose and gave purpose to these concepts. The Titans had babies. The babies looked around, and decided they didn’t like how their parents ran things, threw a temper-tantrum and took control of the universe. They created mortals and all the other fiddly bits of existence; birds, trains and aeroplanes… These being are what mortals came to call Gods. The Titans did not appreciate this and thus, an eternal feud was born.
Death in such a feud was inevitable. But, the Gods learned quickly that killing the Titans caused great suffering across the Universe as the Titan’s defining concept returned to an uncontrolled and chaotic state. Kill the Titan of Ice, mortals got the Ice Age. Kill a Titan of Water, mortals got the Great Flood. And since the Gods drew their power from the belief of mortals, it became a resoundingly good plan to not cause the poor defenseless creaures to go extinct.
The Titans had to be contained. So the Gods built the biggest prison in the Universe. They called it a lot of things, but ultimately the word Tartarus stuck. Collectively, the Gods threw the majority of the Titans into the prison and sealed it for what they hoped would be forever. The divine stewards of cosmic balance tipped their hats, dusted off their hands and retired to their respective overworlds to limit their involvement with humanity.
Great idea, bad execution. It took a few thousand years but eventually the unified cosmic power that brewed within the walls of Tartarus found the weakest points and smashed their way out. The Titans have returned and they are looking to regain what they lost.
The Gods have come to the conclusion that they are outgunned. The only option was to make more Gods. So the mortal race was blessed with children who were half mundane, half divine. And what I really mean is that the Gods got off their high-horses and knocked up (or became knocked up by) a few unsuspecting humans while incognito. These resulting children are called Scions. My parents were part of the first generation of Scions. At the present point in the story though, Ma, Pa and their traveling circus of friends are working at rebuilding Tartarus and throwing the Titans in. I guess no one came up with a better plan…
But life (mortal or divine) can’t ever be easy. On their road to imprison the Titans a great number of hurdles have arisen. Perhaps the most detrimental to the continued existence of… well, everything… is that the Godly pantheons have imploded into a civil war. One side knows that all they can hope for is a short reprieve before the Universe collapses back into Chaos, lets call these knuckle-heads “Pro-Ragnarök.” The other side is convinced that continued prosperity can be assured if Fate’s designs can be avoided, let’s call these numskulls “Anti-Ragnarök.” Then you’ve got a couple other birdbrains that sit on the sidelines and think themselves above the conflict.
Silly Gods – Fate is for kids… or was that Trix? I’m always getting those two confused.
So my mom (who is pregnant with me at the time) is climbing her way up old Olympus to attain the Godly powers she feels she needs to put a stop to all this. Meanwhile, my dad and his Irish buddies Ciara and Brendan are sneaking into the Aztec Underworld to meet up with my second-cousin’s half-brother’s haridresser Vidar God of Making-sure-Ragnarök-doesn’t-totally-suck. He supposedly let himself die at the hands of the Aztec to “get behind enemy lines” and “mount a counter offensive,” only my dad’s side of the family could put that kind of spin on dying unexpectedly. Finally, my Uncle Harlan had just returned to the mortal plane after a reading of his father’s “Last Will and Testament” (I say with heavy air quotes) in Helheim, to begin his own personal plans on how to circumvent Ragnarök.
Meanwhile, The Titans were stepping up their game in other arenas. The Order of Divine Glory was just about to go public with something very, very frightening. And the God Dimiourgós was realizing he’d been used as a pawn, in the biggest chess match ever.