Gods have always come in all shapes and sizes. From the lowliest of worms to the highest of mountains, gods have been or dwelled. The other races, well, they each believe in their own set of gods, and very few of them believe in the original ones. But unlike their own gods, these are ever present. Some walk in the deepest, darkest parts of forests and oceans, others run along plains chasing the wind, and still others climb and fly among the highest and greatest peaks. Often where you feel the most primal of urges or fears or joys, these gods often walk touching life in their own way.

One of these gods had always roamed the bluest and cloudiest of skies, freedom being its choice of existence. It was happy, believed itself unfettered and clean. Whenever it would be troubled, it would abandon that trouble into the clouds nearby, turning them black and creating maelstroms. One day, after having given its troubles away, it glided over a deep, black chasm. Below, sitting at the mouth of the chasm, was an extremely attractive figure, staring down into the black below them, feet crossed and swinging.

The god had never cared much for what was below them, only of what was in front of them or above them. The world of solid ground was distasteful to them, but the urge to dive toward this figure was more than just powerful, it was intoxicating. So, doing just so, the god stopped near the figure and asked with a curious smile, ‘What are you doing there, Chasm Watcher?’

The figure looks at the god, whose heart caught at the throat. Four eyes looked back at them, the figure smiling gracefully responds, ‘I am seeking.’ The god had never seen one so absolutely alien yet perfect. The figure in front of them couldn’t be pinpointed, as if they were ever changing. There seemed to be a void as deep as the sky at night without stars within those eyes, yet the god only got the feeling of absolute freedom from the figure. As if it lived in a world without troubles, worries or problems, where it could float along any eddy it wished.

The god came forward, closer, and sat on the air next to the figure cross legged, looking downward into the chasm with it and asks, ‘What are you seeking, Seeker?’

The figure looks downward again and says, ‘I’ll know it when I see it, sky dweller.’

The figure then got up, walked away and into the deepening gloom, as if they melted into the darkness itself. The god stared in sadness and left, floating away. But their thoughts were still stuck upon the figure, at the delicate, alien posture, the way it moved, the way it spoke, the look as those eyes fixed on them. Shuddering with a strange pleasure, they flew through the open sky.

Each day, the god would come to the same spot, and find the figure still sitting there, it's form different each time. It would be dangling appendages down into the darkness, those same four eyes locked onto the darkness below. And each day, the god would converse with the same questions, receive the same answers, and repeat their farewells.

On one of these days, the god met with the figure and asked, “What are you doing there Chasm Watcher?” The figure, as was it’s normal, smiled and responded, “I’m seeking.” The god asks, “What are you seeking, Seeker?” The figure, instead of replying as it normally did, said, “Would you like to come with me? To discover it?”

The god was surprised, hesitant. The figure was a near constant for them, a reminder that no matter how free the god was, there was an even more free world out there. Without another second, the god nodded, curiosity and greed reflected in their eyes like the sun on water. The figure’s smile seemed to almost twist, before settling back into its usual demeanor in the blink of an eye. It raised what looked like a paw toward the god and said, “Then grasp tightly.”

The god clasped the appendage without hesitation. The figure’s paw instantly slithered and changed form until it latched throughout all of the god’s arm, weaving its essence into the flesh of the god. The smile twisted again, this time encompassing most of the figure’s face, teeth of the purest, most sickly green shone, the only constant besides the figure’s eyes. The god cried out in intense fear and attempted to wrest itself from the figure’s control, without avail. The god flew backward as far as they could, but the figure was unmovable. As the god wailed, the figure laughed, one of a strange timbre that was pleasant, like a crystal bell and then like the laugh of lovers in bed. The figure shoved off from the chasm edge into the abyss, dragging the screaming, struggling god along with it.

They both fell deep, deep into the earth. Past the dirt, the rock, and ever deeper into the chasm. After what felt like an entire millenia, the two landed within the inky depths, as if floating through pure darkness itself. The god whimpered, eyes screwed shut and attempting to curl into itself. The figure’s appendage weaved throughout the god’s arm pulsed lightly as the figure seemed to almost melt into the surrounding black. The eyes continued to shine, the mouth and teeth twisting throughout the abyss.

It spoke to the god in a breathy, smug voice, “You wanted to know. And now you do. You will be mine.”

The god stayed in that abyss, listening to the soft, maddening voice, mind eroding over countless eons. Though they didn’t know when, the god eventually started to speak to the darkness that would never speak with them, only speak to them. And countless time went by, eventually the god stopped speaking, and only listened to the creeping black. Their mind shattered, a twisted smile upon their face, they floated for all the rest of time. Eventually, the god and the darkness had progeny, born from their bodies and minds, flooding the vast chasm, leading to twisted, dark things. As their progeny broke through the surface world, they destroyed and consumed all in their wake, until eventually being destroyed by the other gods of that primal world.

The rest of the gods came together and sealed both the darkness and the mad god themself, cast deep, deep into the earthly plane. While sealing the two, however, they found the smallest mote of light. As one of the gods touched it, they realized it was the essence of the very best of the mad god, having torn it from their essence before it could become corrupted from the madness. A last desperation as the darkness took over the god entirely. And so it had floated in that darkness, shining and implacable, incorruptible.

The gods took this mote of light and, before taking it with them, took the smallest piece from it and weaved it into a net of rainbow light, keeping the sealed god and darkness in their prison. At the conjunction of this net where all lines both ended and began, they placed the piece of essence they took and connected the lines to it, allowing the essence to continue existing, impervious to those that railed at their prison.

Taking the rest of the mad god’s essence, they made the first of the races. The ones they placed on the plains they called Watchers, those they placed in forests were called Sentinels. Those deep within the earth were called Guardians, and those within the mountains the Builders. Within the desert sands they placed the Arbiters, and the tundras were the Hunters. Finally, deep within the oceans they placed the Dwellers.

The rest of the essence they took and kept safe and hidden from the world, knowing its very existence would entail the very best of the now mad god would continue on. Over time, these gods were abandoned by the races they created, their creations themselves changing over eons, but never once did these gods waver in their vigil.