Celestia

The High Heavens, The Realm Eternal, Highest and Truest. All names for the might of the Divine Realm speak of its glory and splendor, for from here do the celestials originate and from them near all life in the mortal realms can find a source of origin. It is here each of the Seven Divines reside, watching over the Planes both Greater and Lesser, maintaining the balance of power between all and each working towards their own unknowable goal.

Should one enter into the Divine Realm they would be met with a sky of dancing wonderous lights and colours, the very fabric of reality weaving and warping around them, and hung in that tapestry they would see the seven realms of the Divines, great planetoids that swirl around as though in a astrolabe. Though each of these worlds are indeed easy to spot with the open air, even as they move and orbit each other in unpredictable patterns, in truth physically the distance between each other is nothing and everything all at once. Travel between the realms of the gods by simply physical means is impossible, forcing travelers to these lands to rely on teleportation or the skills of its planar hopping natives.

The celestials themselves are as varied from each other as they are from the other Greater beings. A celestial as an individual is a being of pure, stoic conviction, they are utterly certain of themselves and their knowledge of their place in the universe. It is rare indeed for a celestial to harbour uncertainty or doubts, let alone voice them, for truly these thoughts can be toxic to such beings, those that survive having their ideals and faith in themselves breaking become something great and terrible in equal measures.

Notable as well is the simple physical differences between each group of celestials, for those that form within the realm of one god will look and act vastly different from those of another. A part of their divines will and sphere of influence will become a core aspect of theirs, enforcing who they are, what they look like and how they move about the world. That is not to say that celestials do not ever exchange their services from one divine to another for any number of reasons, however this is extremely rare, for usually for a celestial to revoke their support in their patron god something truly terrible or wonderous must happen that would break the foundations of their self confidence which they must then survive to take a new purpose serving at the side of a different divine.

It should be noted that for direct and sworn followers of each Divine, to enter their realm is an experience like no other. Not only will they feel a strength of spirit and of their flesh, but whilst they remain in their patrons realm a boon, almost as though an echo of their god was gifted to them, will strengthen them immensely. Though some believe that these boons can come with a heavy trade off in kind.

### Realms of the Divines

#### Lord Brighteye the Silveraxe

A land both harsh and fair, with great towering mountains, deep and dangerous forests and idyllic valleys, the realm of the God of Heroes is not a place for the weak of body, for simply traversing it alone can be an ordeal. But for those that can find themselves at home here they will find a land that is welcoming in it's ordeals, testing but never punishing, resolute but never cruel, a trait that is reflected in its natives.

Here, amongst the reflections of the strongest and most noble mortals beings that lived, can be found the angels, celestials of Lord Brighteye. These winged humanoids appear almost akin to Aasimar, humans or elves though far grander in stature. They are taller, with eyes of gold or silver light, owl like wings sprouting from their backs carry them high in the air and they stand far taller than any mortal being with a strength to match. They are beings of peerless justice, judgement and councilors of the righteous. Angels will ever be the foremost defenders of good and honest folk, being quick to answer desperate pleas and prayers when permitted and quicker still to deal out punishment in the name of their mighty god. They make up the bulk of the forces arrayed particularly against the hordes of the Abyss, finding a particular level of hatred for demonkind.

For sworn followers of the Lord of Justice, a strange strength will fill them once they have entered this hallowed realm. Any hunger for battle will slowly grow until sated, driving them on to fight alongside the forces of their mighty god, They too shall gain the power of the angels themselves, being able to call upon a halo of light and sprout angelic wings for a short while, whilst the cold that permeates the realm will no longer affect them.

##### Northwinter Watch

The great palace, fortress and home of the Divine Lord Brighteye himself. This vast castle is the single largest and most formidable structure in all of creation, thousands of thousands of hands have aided in its construction and it stands proudly with layers on layers of walls, gates, defenses and guards both seen and hidden. For the angels who remain with its walls and garrison such a holy and venerable fortress it is considered the greatest of duties and the highest of honours.

This indomitable edifice was not built out of pride or an idle desire, for ever wall and fortification within it was placed by design. Even before the construction of the Divine Gate the realm of Lord Brighteye hosted the largest and most stable gateways between the Greater Planes, though most could be redirected and channeled into a more manageable location they could not be sealed or cast away entirely. So in time the great fortress grew around the mattered mess of the great battlefield that fills the northern reaches of the Divines realm.

Northwinter has weathered more sieges than there have been generations of mortal kind, both demons and devils has attempted to claim dominance from the angels that man the walls. Though at times the walls have been breached or even segments of the castle have fallen into enemy control, such is the sheer size of such a bastion, it has never truly fallen. For though they are endlessly beleaguered the angels do not fight alone, heroes from countless years have lent their aid both in life and after death, for even after they depart to the Spirit Realm an echo of their mind and strength remains, ever eager to defend the walls holding the tide of damnation from sweeping over the heavens.

##### Grimskull Peak

From top to bottom this mountain is the largest in all the planes, soaring high above the clouds that whip and whirl around it, even the angels struggle to fly against the strength of the winds as they buffet the steadfast monument. The mountain does not simply stand as a vast marker from which one can always judge where they are, but atop its summit stands the Anvil of Judgement where it is said that if knows where to look they can gaze out across the entirety of creation and see anything they wish to.

It is from atop this Anvil that Lord Brighteye has stood for countless days and nights, guiding and commanding the forces of the Celestia. The mighty god sees it as his duty and responsibility to be the guard and bulwark against the evils of the world, his gaze sweeping over the countless battles and sieges as he attempts to direct a war beyond mortal comprehension. Here, at this place seeped in the blood of countless campaigns his eye has been set on the mortal realms more than once, directing the aid of heaven to those who give up truly heartful pleas. It was here that the very Anvil itself was cracked as the god of justice drew the line in the sand, set the final boundary of what will be tolerated and what will not as he cast down the dreaded Lichelord. It is said that the casting of such raw power rang through the Greater Planes like a funerary bell and all were struck with fear at what but a single god could unleash should his rage be kindled.

#### The land of the Kindred Flesh

Perhaps most perverse and repulsive of all the Divine Realms, the land of the Kindred Flesh, the god of corruption and consumption, its land is equally twisted and foul as its own master. This land is the home of the illicit creatures that defy convention and normalcy whilst appearing at first to be openly welcoming and friendly to all who venture within these Realms. in truth this is a land where its inhabitants are near as dangerous and unpredictable as the land itself. As ought to be expected of celestials with a corrupting god the differences between help and harm are one in the same they are unable to see a difference in their actions and was they may have good intentions speak in a friendly tone and and generally appear opening they are likely to harm their mortal traveller they are to help them for to such a creature there truly is no difference.

The land itself is one of mixed duality, at first appearance it is a land of great beauty, tranquil peace and hills with small streams speeding down towards great oceans and peaceful vistas along flower laden Hills. Should one look closer they will see that this is but  the appearance given at first glace, for should one look closer the truth will be revealed. Red grass that seems inviting and soft will be instead viciously sharp and seek to cut and drink the blood of those that pass by.  Flowers that appear fragrant and glistening in the light, or even bearing sweet fruit upon closer inspection  have vicious stemmed barbs, buds of rotting teeth, or a singular eye staring out where one would expect a bulb to sit.

There are some that believe that the land of the Kindred Flesh is the Kindred Flesh, an extension of the very god that rules such a round. whether this is true or not they cannot be said for certain, however many will state that throughout their time in such a realm that a presence and sense of being watched permeates through them.

The beings who call this place home, the illithids, are unsettling as they are welcoming. Their very presence can be felt by those who come too close, a psychic weight that can crush the minds of those who are not prepared to feel it. They are often more than happy to lend aid to mortals they come across, seeking to help them in their journeys but to an illithid they would see no difference between pointing a person off on their way or, in a desire to see them stronger, force them to receive the blessings of their dark god with joyful rapture. It should go without saying that few can hope to try to predict the actions of such creatures, for even they have no way of knowing the difference between harm and help.

For those that have already bound themselves to the whims of their darkly loving god, they will find fresh boons as their minds grow stronger, able to ward off even the mightiest of mental probes and pass almost as a ghost between notice of those who rely upon such craft. But such gifts do not come without a price, for the longer they remain within their masters abode more and more will they hear its whispers, pushing and compelling them to turn against their companions, bring them into the embrace of their new found family, to feel the joy they have been shown. Worse still, should one of these individuals fall in battle in this realm, death will not claim them, for instead they shall be brought back to life, the seed of something fresh and terrible now planted within them and slowly and unstoppably germinating within their very soul.

##### The Fallow Mire

Should one survive the initial dangers of the realm of the Flesh, between hungering petals and metal taloned birds of twisted bone, where trees lash wildly out at passersby and the very rocks crawl and shudder under foot, they may find themselves at the edge of the vast and rocky coast. It is here that the great sea that rings the shattered lands of the Kindred Flesh can be found, the Fallow Mire

The ocean is black as tar and near boiling to the touch. The waters are filled with blind fish, beings born of malice and possessing grasping tentacles that hunt both bird and sailor maddened enough to sail these waters. The water itself has a strangely enticing property to it, those that remain too close to it for too long claim they can hear it calling to them, singing to them in a sweet voice that sooner or later becomes impossible to resist. Only bones are ever found of those that gave into the siren song of the sea.

Despite the relatively bustling sea trade between the islanders, the sea itself poses one more great threat to any who dare venture too close. The water itself is horrendously addictive, with only the absolute strongest of wills being able to resist drinking their fill and more than their gullet can handle. Every person describes the taste differently, implying that it somehow preys on the fond memories that even the drinker themselves are not aware of. Most terrible of all, this addiction can come even the smallest drop of the Fallow Mires waters, making fishing a hazard unlike most others.

##### The House Below

In all of creation, both Greater and Lesser, there are few places more dreaded and terrifying for a being to find itself in. The House Below sits in a pocket realm connected to the greater realm of the Flesh, from which anything that finds itself drawn into it can never escape, by neither death nor magic, it is simply impossible for a being to ever truly leave this accursed jail. The House itself sits alone, surrounded in a black mist that clouds the senses ands addles the minds of those who stay with it too long, the red flowers that surround the house itself seem to ward away the effects however they carry a pollen that can slowly alter the body of those who spend too long in their presence.

Worse than the simple nature of this cold, unsettling building, seeming at first glance to be a simple two story manor that has long since fallen into disrepair, are the beings who have come to call this place home. It is not known if they were driven into insanity by the effects of the House itself, or just the simple isolation has driven them feral, but it is known that eventually those who survive long enough will lose their sanity, their sense of humanity and cease acting like a person at all, their bodies adapting to their new environment where there is only the hunt of those foolish enough to become stranded alone in this horrific place. They stalk their prey from the shadows, allowing only glimpses to be seen, installing a sense of paranoia and fear to weaken whatever they are hunting before striking from darkened corners or shifting planks of wood.

The interior of the House too is unexpectedly dangerous, Much like the exterior it appears decrepit and abandoned, however for those who wander inside they find endless halls, portraits ruined by time and weathered beyond recognition, dead flowers and a stench of musty air that sits without moving. The House is impossibly large and misleading, many have gotten lost following the sounds of their own footsteps, or else gradually pursued by the insane denizens of this nightmare.

Arguably the worst factor of this realm of terror however, is that its very nature defies the Divine Mandate. It matters not where you are in all the realms, nor how mighty or powerful you may be, a wrong turn on a darkly light stroll in the wrong forest, a bad dream that stretches a little too long, a twisting alleyway that seems to lead further than it should, a feeling of being watched, stopping to look back for just a moment longer than one should, each of these ways and many more are just some examples of how someone, anyone can find themselves suddenly dragged between the planes. The House Below waits for all, the eternal trap. Nothing is safe from it truly, nowhere is far enough away to escape its inexorable pull. For those that find themselves misfortune enough to accidentally step across that threshold should they ever be seen again, it will be as a pale skinned monster, talons of bone for fingers and a simple, carnal craving to consume living flesh.

##### The Manse of Flesh

Located somewhere within the twisted glens and haunted leagues of this inviting and twisted land, the home of the god itself resides. This large, opulent and intricate mansion is constantly moving, dragged forwards like some great tentacled beast, long tendrils sneaking out from within the main mass and digging deep into the bleeding earth, pulling it forwards across the ground. The building itself is almost predatory, gaining speed to catch up with those that happen to come across its path, with some who have escaped notice claiming it can even grow into a monstrous size if the pursuit continues too long, leading many to suspect a large part of the Manse resides under the ground.

The interior of this place is no less dangerous than the outside, for within is a vile twisting nest of the native ilithids, in a number beyond counting. Their minds singing and screaming out at any outside in equal measure, driving them to either madness or accepting their foul god, to become one with the Flesh. Located somewhere deeper than mortal desire to traverse it is said the great heartminds of the ilithids reside, the oldest, most twisted of their kind. Sacks of flesh and acid that leak dreams and horrors in equal measure are all that remain of these disgusting celestials. They are the truest exemplars of their masters desire to bring all into one loving family, for they will rest at nothing to entice and entrap any who they find, be it celestial, mortal, fae or fiend.

Somewhere deeper still, where light cannot fight the suckering shadow, where warmth cannot lift the cloying mist, where joy cannot breach the rot of sorrow, lurks the master of this realm. The true heart of the Kindred Flesh, None but the divines can stand before its presence and remain sane, not even the scions dare risk venturing so far into the foulness for such is its true enormity of will, here in its home of homes, that even the sanest and strongest of wills will be broken and turned, their desires warped into vicious mockeries of what once was. A hero will return a depraved monster, an assassin emerges a doomsday cultist, a wizard desires nothing more but to form an academy to teach brackish magic to decay the world. Nothing can venture into this dark place and emerge as it was. Here there is only the family. Here, there is only the Flesh.

#### The Realm of Vhaktis

It is said that harsh lands breed strong people, for if they are strong enough to survive such a place they can be counted amongst the strongest of wills, keenest of senses or greatest of mights. If that were true, this shattered land is both a testament to this example and a tragic example of the failure of the philosophy.

The very landscape itself is a hazard to those who dwell within it. Tall, sundering mountains stretch across the land, carving valleys and sudden cliffs along the skyscape, traversing these regions is a task in itself, for few passes can survive the tumultuous effects of the rapidly changing weather. Even attempting to traverse the ground is no surety of safety, for the crumbling rocks often fall like leaden rain and bury any who are not aware at all times of their surroundings. These thin, labarathin ravines too are in themselves a danger, for they can end in sudden raised walls of rock and ice that are too unstable to be climbed or escaped from.

The very breath of the land itself too is a hazard, the wind scours all caught unawares in a force beyond anything they can withstand, and if that alone does not carry them from their rocky perches then the debris carried aloft or the stinging icy rain contained within will shatter them or split their flesh with blades of water and rock. The lack of surface shelter means only the truly bravest or insane venture outside for any great length of time, for whilst there are indeed small lakes of stagnant water, or fresh wanderers lurking on the surface, the dangers simply reaching these places are often too great for what little reward there is to be found.

It is hardly a surprise then, that to avoid the worst of these conditions the celestials of this realm lurk underground. Though they rarely last for long without support, the caverns and twisting ravines under the rock and howling winds protect those that lurk within from the dangers above. These places are no more safer however, for with few places to turn and little in the way of sustaining themselves, the weaker beings are forced to band together or become prey for the countless beings that lurk and hunt and linger within the darkness. Many a wayward adventurer has attempted to delve into the depths of the world of Vhaktis only to stumble across the hunting ground of beasts great and terrible that lurk within, discovering to their true horror that they had been stalked from the moment they arrived.

Those beings that find this place their natural home, or have come to settle here, go by many names. They are the nephilim, the fomorians, the nihilans, the giants or the kin. Scattered, savage and wild, strong of will and strong of form, these beings do not serve their Divine master out of love nor loyalty, but for fear and respect. Here in this place, where strength alone guarantees the survival of another day these leaderless wretches know that none alone can challenge the master of these places, nor would any dare risk rousing the hound of heaven from his nesting places in the deep caverns of the world.

##### The Blasted Haven

True permanent settlements in the depths of this land are rare indeed, though not for a lack of trying. A structure might be built and exist for centuries, manned by vigilant and paranoid guards, foragers working long and painful shifts and traders making what little in the way of barter that they can. But sooner or later disaster befalls them all. The ceiling above may crash down around them, crushing more than be repaired. Paranoia will become tyranny, tyranny will become infighting, infighting will become a power vacuum and chaos will seep into the bastion or order. Food may suddenly run out forcing those within to scatter or starve. Waring bands of raiders may band together and bring their savage might through or around the defences. All these and more can befall those brave enough and trusting enough to attempt to find a true home in the depths.

The Haven was the latest of the great attempts to build such a fortification in this treacherous lands. Built deep beneath the earth, fashioned with the iron workings of fire giants and the craftsmanship of stone giants, this was a citadel woven through the stone as much as wrought from it. It was a fortress from which no army could besiege it, such were the countless tunnels and offshoots. It was a bastion from where no disorder would leak forth, such was its numbers. Here, peace and civility flourished for generations and for a time it seemed as though the curse of the inevitable change had finally been beaten. But the God of Shadow does not permit light to flourish in his home forever.

Like the countless attempts that came before and the countless attempts that will come again, the Haven fell. It was not the sudden change of a conquest that brought it low, but a thousand problems stacking themselves up on each other. Tunnels began to collapse faster than could be rebuilt. The native wildlife became fiercer and cruller, hunting the very hunters that came for them in greater numbers. The vampire clans that migrated to their master's realm began to clash with each other and their celestial hosts for territory, blood and power. The giant tribes began to fracture as they began to each blame each other for their cities' failures. And though the fall came piecemeal over long lifetimes the final push was sudden, brutal and inevitable.

Nobody truly knows what the final moments that led to calamity were. Perhaps the infighting grew beyond what protections could be afforded. Perhaps the walls were in too much disrepair to hold back what lurked beyond. Perhaps supplies suddenly rotted or were crushed by the rocks above. It matters little, for in a single night it all fell away. Were any to have survived, perhaps a poet would have thought of a fitting name for what must have been a night of terror and horrors. Instead the city was discovered days later as little more than a hollow nest of monsters and deranged survivors, no more able to hold their senses than their wits, as traders returned to find what was once a vibrant city in the depths of the darkness was now little more than a shadowed tomb. Here once again Vhaktis had claimed his prize, the hunting ground had grown and though it was filled with riches beyond measure, just as all the other citadels had been before it, few dared risk venturing back inside for there was little waiting inside but death and darkness.

##### The Whisper

On one hand a fortress standing alone on a broken mountain, on another light an ancient mausoleum of the distant past and of things that should never be brought to life or light. The Whisper has been sought after by prophets, truth seekers, wizards and madmen since it was first discovered. Who built it none can say, nor how it somehow remains nearly entirely immune to the buffeting wrath of the weather around it. And yet still, it defies the very mountains that crumble away around it and resists the crushing debris carried aloft atop the storm.

The true prize however in this vast edifice is locked away inside, in vaults and sealed chambers, hidden deep past where sensible minds would think to turn back and look away. For here is kept a record of every lie, every secret and whispered thought man has ever uttered. Locked away on stone tablets and parchment of moths wings is the record of every nothing, all nobodies, entire fabrications and definite disgusts. The wealth of knowledge here is beyond anything any one person could ever come to count. Entire kingdoms could rise and fall built on the secrets locked away in this dark place, regimes would topple or be founded based on hidden lies. Experiments that would never see success would be brought to fruition through nothing more than piecing together lies of the never were together.

Such things however are seldom unguarded. The deranged who have made their homes in the Whispers outer edge guard their stolen knowledge well, clinging to it until they have forgotten why it was they even ventured into these depths to begin with. Darker things than them guard deeper in, for the celestials themselves stand watch over the inner gates and bastion hidden passages, gathered together from each of the Divines' heavenly hosts. They do so out of need, knowing that somewhere, behind one lone door, locked away yet impossible to know where there are secrets which could topple the very gods themselves. Well guarded, by monstrous beasts let loose, by men turned monstrous by the very lies they craved or by the ever watchful assembly of hidden guards who will stop at nothing to ensure the darkest secrets of creation remain hidden from prying eyes.

##### The Pit

Widely regarded as one of the foulest places in the deep and dangerous dark of the Divines realm and one of its greatest mysteries. The Pit has no true name, as with all things the followers of the Dark Divine care less for what a thing is called and more for what a thing is or can provide. For many, this is simply home, a depraved and horrific home but one that exists none the less.

Here a great yawning chasm splits the cavern ceiling high above the waiting maw of the Pit itself and from this vast opening pour a steady supply of bodies of every variety, from beast to man to monster alike. Where they come from none can say and none know for nothing can pass back up into the darkness to investigate. Thousands of bodies cascade down like bitter rain throughout the day, filling rock pools with corpses and blood and sinew. Deep pools and oceans of bile and blood stretch out across the many miles of the cavern and for those who make their home here it is a safe haven, except of course from the other territorial beasts that lurk within.

Here, rivalling any realm to found in the mortal world of Confluence, can be found the great empire of the vampires, for they flock to this precious home, where the waters of life empty. Great palaces and castles line the edges of the Pit, draped in the fallen bodies cast down from above, entire civilisations live under the lapping waves of the crimson depths, having long since overflown as the tide continued unabated. How many castles and fortresses and denizens lurk within the regions surrounding the Pits none know, for it is a vast and infeasible task that would drive even the most brilliant of minds to madness. Indeed, nobody knows how deep it even truly goes, nor how much flows away or to where or if indeed it does. Many believe that one day the Pit will be all there is, the tide of blood slowly rising as the years go by, washing away the cities of those celestials and mortals that tried to band together in the darkness. Perhaps one day, the celestial races of this realm will be slowly pushed out by the true children of the night and this land will be nothing but death, undeath and those that drink it in.