All life owes its existence to The Father, who used his spark of life to birth the four children, and The Mother, who vanquished all traces of the void. After the children were born, The Father laid his head down to rest. The Mother took her place, protecting the children from the all encompassing void, and both laid still. 

The children, not knowing much of their parents, were young and naive. They did not heed their mother's warnings and peaked beyond her warm embrace, allowing the void to seep into their home. After spending her energy ridding their home of the void once, The Mother had no energy to spare and could not defend them. The children suffered for fifty long days as the void took its toll, scaring everything it could touch. 

Not willing to see his children suffer any longer, The Father awoke and took the void within himself so that he could protect all that he and his wife had created. To prevent any more accidents from occurring, The Father and Mother created the ‘Shriklam’ a great flow that touched the void, and brought death to The Father. Yet at the same time, he was not dead, and the great flow split his spark into many which began to inhabit his body and all his children.

 Each of his children received their own gift from The Father. For his oldest and wildest child, he gave the primal spark, the one which created their home. To his most loyal child, he gave the spark of morality, to dictate what his loyalty meant. The intelligent child was given the spark which held knowledge, which he knew would lead to greatness. And to his strange child who thought they would receive nothing, for they were not loved the same as the others, he gave a secret spark which the others knew not what it held. From that point onward, The Mother watched on as her children continued the ‘Shirklam’ in the name of their father, which she could never meet again.

Luad, the Primal

The eldest child, the firstborn who came from the father with a roar and vibrant shout. Upon his body lays thick forests and ancient places that do not know civilization. An eternal hunt takes place upon its surface, inhabited by the primal sparks of those who lived below. As the first and most animalistic, the child occasionally touches upon the wild areas in the world, forests, and places of natural beauty. An errant wanderer may occasionally find themselves lost in a land of verdant green and vibrant blues.

Ramacha, the Divine

The loyal child, the one who stood beside their siblings even as they pushed beyond the bounds of their mother, is fickle. An utter bastion of morality, taboo, and opinion; it matters not what one might believe, only that they believe it with absolute certainty. To describe the loyal child is to put it in certain terms, of which does not exist. Thus, the child acts as either a soft blanket or hard whip to the sparks of morality that flow through its hallowed planes. Found in places of absolute certainty and judgment, from churches to courthouses if one is blinded by ideal, they may be inspired by the ‘Divine.’

Naja, the Arcane

The intelligent child, who drinks deeply the knowledge of the world and rejoices for the sake of simply knowing more. Across it planes are a library, the greatest library that has ever existed and will always exist, staffed eternally by the stories that make up its halls. Those who walk the halls are consumed by the desire to learn, to know what sits on the slates which hold the secrets of the world. Indeed, everything that has every been written, spoken, or known is recorded and put into place upon an inscrutable method of organization. Those who delve into grand archives or lost libraries may find themselves stumbling through the twisting halls of the intelligent one. Perhaps all flashes of inspiration or jump in judgment are gifts, sent from the grand library.

Insidimai, the Occult

The strange child, who did not expect their spark, lives and thrives on the unknown feelings and concepts that cannot simply be understood. Esoteric in nature, the knowledge of occult practices are often confused with arcane, simply different practical knowledge that applies. This, while sometimes applicable, is by and large not always the case. Rituals that require symbolism, emotional manipulation, and sometimes touch upon the more existential aspects of the void. The child escapes full description, as its planes actively lie and attempt to obscure the truth from all matters. Indeed, in places of great secrecy the veil of the child can seep out and help obscure the truth even against the wishes of its occupants.

The Cradle of the Father is an indescribably youthful place, pulling the flow of new energy, stripped of its old vestiges by the children, to begin a cycle anew. To venture too close to the cradle, would surely spell an untimely demise, as the new energy in its excited naïveté attempts to flow into any living vestige. This quickly leads to overexposure and unfortunate growths ending in death. From attempts to pear into the Cradle, it was revealed that several beings can exist in such an environment, and it was not a barren wasteland as was believed before. Fauna of crystallized positive vitality that suffuse into the environment seem to call the Cradle their home, with flora being observed as well. As the lifeblood of existence, it seems obvious that creatures would exist even in such hostile conditions.

The Scorn of the Mother, created after the folly of the children and the duality to the Cradle of the Father, is an unfortunate but entirely necessary piece of existence. Scornful of all life, any creature of natural or unnatural vitality will find themselves dissolving into dust as the plane ejects their energy but not their physical form. This utter rejection of vitality coalesce into black crystalline forms, creatures made from solidified void which seems to possess some manner of intelligence. The scorn is also laden with hordes of undead, not drawn but seeking refuge from the living energy that wishes to break them down. That distinction is quite important as the Scorn does not create undead, merely providing ideal conditions for long term life, and as such its natural residence seem to take issue with the undead interlopers.

Along the border of the continents and between the two worlds, lies the islands, planes of pure elements that serve as the supposed borders between reality. As pure embodiments of elemental power, they are mighty and should be feared and revered for the great beings that live upon them. Many have sailed towards their coasts and few have returned, alive and dead, so let this be a warning to cautiously brave the borders of the world. Indeed, this is not just a border between the two worlds but many, many more.

Air

A land of infinite expanse in all directions, once one steps onto the island they find themselves upon a cloud floated island, stuck in the greater plane with no ground and sky in sight. The sky above mirrors the world below, with the world looping at an undetermined distance between, allowing one to fall forever. No shadow exists in the realm, and even without a visible, sunlight seems to simply exist everywhere except the darkest storm cloud. Storms are the main danger of this plane, turning areas into inhospitable planes of infinite lighting and water, removing all ability to determine what is up and down. In terms of sentient life, the empires of Jaathoom span the furthest across the realm which many creatures call their home, in collections of islands chained together or giant city ships. To escape the realm, one must find an island that smells of familiar air.

Earth

The island itself is barren with no life existing on it but with many holes leading into the ground. Upon entering one of these burrows, many quickly get lost and find themselves on the plane of earth. Ancestral heartland of the dwarfs, everything is solid stone, the ground encompassing everything, and no one has found an end, up or down. A land of almost complete darkness except for bioluminescent flora and fauna that inhabit the plane. Water is scarce, meaning that any underground lakes or rivers are highly sought after and contested ground, fights often occur between settlements of sentient beings and territorial creatures. Whispers of the supposed surface and depths, both dangerous due to the increasing number of hostile creatures that call home there. Finding your way out involves determination and luck, small holes of light that lead back to surface realms unknown.

Fire

Burning fire heats the air and boils the sea, making this one of the most dangerous islands to approach in a normal vessel. Wreathed in geysers of flame and spewing smoke from all angles, as soon as the unlucky sailor loses sight of the coastline, they will have entered the plane of fire. An endless path of flame, magma, and smoke that burns the very air and makes it hard to breath. Almost everything on the plane is hostile to normal life, not maliciously so, but merely due to their fiery nature that tends to burn flesh incredibly quickly. No large settlement that can sustain normal life exists, however the many sentient inhabitants have built large cities of metal and volcanic rock. There is no water or edible food in this place to sustain the typical traveler, so tread quickly and pack well, or find yourself consumed by the flames. Smog and smoke guide the way out, pushed by the winds of the shore.

Metal

Sharp in blade, tongue, and mind are the inhabitants of this plane, bright metallic flashes of jutted steel outcroppings with dark pools of liquid iron beneath. Metallics are thrown every which way due to the peculiar magnetic fields that shift this plane in strange ways. Structures are typically ad hock, with wood brought in from other places to at least gain some protection from the blade storms. The elemental lords of this place do not take kindly to outsiders and roughly punish any who are opposing them. While several interlopers have made homes here, they do so on the periphery, where the strangest of the metallic beasts live, far away from the large cities of the lords. One must find the reflection of their home in one of the many metallic pools of the plane if they wish to make their way back.

Water

An endless sea, stretching forever into the depths, is all that welcomes you when you reach the island of water. It is not a real island, merely named that to be congruent with the others, and is by far the most dangerous for regular sailors. It is impossible to know when you have reached the ‘island’ and just as hard to get back, sailors tell horror stories of starving at sea, unable to reach land in any direction. Vast leviathans roam the waters of this plane, beasts of myth such as Krakens and other horrors of the deep wait for victims to become their food. If escape is ever possible, it is due to the tides, if one sails against them then they just might escape.

Wood

The island of wood is many things, the most defining being its gargantuan trees, so big that they might reach the beloved moons in the sky. Towering above all, the island of wood begins and ends with the forest, dense trees and shrubbery covering as far as the eye can see. Many creatures make their home in the trees, turning the trucks and roots into a silent battleground where the slightest mistake could get one killed. Thus, most residents survive up in the trees, with suspended settlements allowing for groups to defend themselves against any creatures wanting to feast. Further into the forest are groves where the lords preside, isolationist and hostile the more foreign elements of the forest make sure not to stray too far from their settlements. The way back in the forest is similar to the others, certain special trees that smell of home and at their base a hollow that leads to the coast.

The Changing

Sometimes called the Feywild, this plane reflects new life born into the world before it is touched by the void, a place of pure imagination and wonder. Suspended away from the rules of time and space by the Cradle, many odd creatures such as the Fey call it their home. While it is similar to Luad, the differences are quite stark due to its inhabitant's mastery over the land. Little is known about this land due to its peculiar methods of reaching it and the lack of ‘void’ in its inhabitants. Thus, Naja collects little about this place.

The Consistency

In stark contrast to the Changing, this plane rests the closet to the Scorn and is a land of stability, unceasing certainty. The land itself is in direct opposition to its inhabitants, too hard for any tool to harm it, no shelter available to those who walk its planes. The youthful energy from the cradle comes here, excited about the new possibilities of the world, only to be tempered into physical forms by the boring existence of this plane. As such there is again little known about the full immensity of this plane, as no writing or words are spoken, for that would disturb the silence. Perhaps when the world was young and the Scorn and Consistency did not exist, the youthful energy was allowed to take whatever form it wished, leading to the birth of the most ancient and magical species of the world.

Shriklam

The land of dreams or the astral plane, the path on which the energies of life and death flow and guide the flow created by the Father and Mother. Many creatures make up this plane of existence, both protecting and preying on the energy that flows in a long river. Heavily correlated with dreams, many cultures have dreamed of this river and have come up with their own interpretations, a river of souls, memories, or pure creation none can truly encompass what the astral plane is. The Shriklam touches all planes of existence as it guides energy untouched by the ravages of time.

In Between

In some studies, referred to as the ethereal plane it is best described as the space between spaces, possibly created at the same time as the ‘Shriklam’ which fills in the gaps of existence. Filled with endless haze and confusion, the spaces between are filled with unknown structures, creatures, and things of all sorts. Beware getting lost in the mists of the in between, as many things stalk the unwatched spaces, waiting.