Hello Scions,

I've got a sneak peek from Chapter 6 for you today. We'll have the entire chapter on Overworlds available for backers to download and review on Tuesday, but I wanted to share a small taste to get us ready.

If you haven't backed yet and are just swinging by to check it out, you should know that backers will be able to download the complete draft manuscript before the campaign concludes and any pledges are processed or funds collected. Most of the manuscript is available for backers now, in weekly updates, and we'll have our final two chapters posted on Tuesday, so there's no risk in joining now to check it out.

But you've got to move fast! The campaign ends next Thursday at 2:00 PM EST. So join in, check out the manuscript, dream about exploring some epic Overworlds, and help us reach another Stretch Goal!

God Realms are the Overworlds shaped and defined by the presence of a Pantheon’s Gods, even if they did not create them themselves. They may act as afterlives for devotees of the Pantheon as well, but their primary role is to be a home and sanctuary. In size, they appear to vary from cities to islands to worlds, and in fact they have no fixed dimensions at all: if a new God arises to join the Pantheon, there is never the risk that it will crowd any of the others, since all of the existing structures will shift to remain exactly as far apart as they were before the addition. Those that seem to have boundaries, like island realms, are surrounded by endless waters whose far shores no God has ever considered trying to reach.

While most Pantheons recognize that The World has changed over the centuries, the architecture in God Realms reflects whatever period its inhabitants are most comfortable in, the age when they believe they were at the height of their power. They may not shun modern amenities, especially if the population includes human souls unprepared for a Bronze Age afterlife, but they usually keep them hidden behind traditional facades. As well as everything else, God Realms are stories that the Gods tell themselves about who they are, and appearances are important.

The Æsir realized long ago that they get along best when they have some distance between them. Fortunately, Ásgarð — a realm that they settled as much as shaped — is large enough for all of the Gods to have lands and homes of their own. As well as reducing the number of quarrels and giving Gods places to let their tempers cool when arguments run the risk of becoming feuds, their private houses also let them do two vital things: first, show off their wealth (even if it is meaningless in a realm without any real economy), and second, offer proper hospitality by throwing lavish feasts for their guests.

Valhalla, with its roof of golden shields supported by rafters made from enormous spears, is both an afterlife for half the dead who fall in battle and an occasional home to Odin in a part of Ásgarð called Gladsheim. The All-Father roams The World too often to have any permanent presence there, but if a visitor sees a pair of ravens perched atop the hall, they know he is somewhere within. The hall itself is enormous and never empty. When the warrior souls there, the Einherjar, are not eating and drinking at the end of a day of training for Ragnarok, many of them remain within to clean the floors and wash the dishes from the previous night’s festivities. There are no servants in Odin’s hall; everyone, whether king, hero, or lowly footsoldier, must do their part to maintain it. (For more on Valhalla, see Scion: Demigod and Realms of Magic & Mystery.)

The other half of the battle-dead go to Freyja’s hall, Séssrumnir, built in the shape of a half-sunken ship in the field called Fólkvangr. While the hall is as large as Valhalla and its tables appear to stretch on forever through its length, it does not have the same overwhelmingly martial aesthetic. Where Valhalla’s benches are covered with coats of mail, Séssrumnir’s have furs. Where one is lit by shining swords, the other is filled with the soft glow of jewels. Enormous cats roam freely throughout, leaping onto tables at meal times and dozing in beams of perpetually late-afternoon sunlight at others. The luxuriousness of the interior should not make visitors forget that its occupants are Einherjar as well and fully capable of a fight when the Lady of the hall calls upon them. (For more on Séssrumnir, see Scion: Demigod and Realms of Magic & Mystery.)

Thor and Sif live together with their children in Bilskirnir, part of the thunder God’s own land of Þru­ðheimr. Þru­ðheimr, unlike many of the other Æsir’s domains, resembles a vast working farm more than anything else, and visitors can always see some of the favored dead laboring there. When he is not away fighting jotunn or on a fishing trip, Thor himself often works alongside them, so that the entire region resembles a self-sustaining agricultural commune more than anything else. Bilskirnir itself is gigantic, as befits a God of Thor’s status, but more rustic in its décor than other halls: every table, every bench, and every tapestry has the small imperfections that are the sign of hand-crafted work and while food and drink are as abundant as they are elsewhere, they are the products of ordinary labor instead of magic.

The other Æsir have similar homes and halls, all according to their preferences. Baldr’s home, shining Breiðablik, is a place of peace and beauty where he hosts his mother when she does not have the patience for one of Odin’s latest schemes. Skadi and Njörðr keep separate homes — her in her dead father’s mountaintop hall, Þrymheimr, and him in Nóatún on the shores of Asgard’s encircling ocean — rarely visiting each other after their amicable divorce. All of these halls have a splendor of their own that matches the nature of their owners.

Bifröst, the rainbow bridge, is the chief way in and out of Asgard. It is flanked by impassable mountains, atop one of which is Heimdall’s hall and watchpost, Himinbjörg, from which he guards the entrance to the realm and decides who may and may not enter. It has no fixed location in The World, but is open to any Scion of the Æsir within sight of a rainbow.

A second way to reach the realm is one used only by Thor, whose habit of bringing stormclouds with him wherever he goes makes crossing a rainbow difficult. Instead of Bifröst, he wades through a series of rivers that run through Þru­ðheimr to enter The World, and can return by crossing any river there. If the other Gods know this route, they do not use it.

Kan’s origins lay in the hazy mists of time, but most K’uh simply acknowledge the God Realm’s existence and weave plots to conquer it. 

Four mighty deities, known as “Bacabs,” stretch their arms skyward from the corners of creation to hold Kan high above The World. Each of Kan’s 13 levels is governed by a potent God, collectively known as the “Oxlahuntiku.” The Oxlahuntiku stand aloof from K’uh politics, but intervene ferociously if their level is threatened. Itzamna’s throne rests within Kan’s highest level, where he routinely ascends skyward as a two-headed serpent to form the vault of the sky.

Kan boasts shaded gardens, pleasant lakes, bountiful orchards, and idealized replicas of K’uh environs from The World. The Yaxche, a massive ceiba tree with roots extending to Xibalba, grows upward from The World’s center, shading all of Kan under its branches. These branches form an intricate web affording the K’uh ease of travel between Kan, The World, and Xibalba.

A portion of Kan is reserved for the honored dead, including fallen warriors, women who die in childbirth, sacrificial victims, and those who commit suicide by hanging. Here, the dead feast lavishly and enjoy luxuries rivaling those of distant Tlālōcān. 

Most K’uh, except for the denizens of Xibalba, maintain holdings in Kan themed to their unique tastes. These include fantastical palaces, temples, and gardens that also incorporate unique elements like Buhuc-Chabtan’s fortress temples, or the warehouses and cacao farms of Ek Chuaj. The K’uh of Kan continually jockey for position, ascending or descending levels as their status waxes and wanes. They attempt to expand their holdings at every opportunity through carefully plotted schemes, lavish gifts, games on the ball court, or outright conflict. The K’uh also compete with their Teotl neighbors via cunning intrigues, espionage, and duels of honor designed to expand their territory without breaching the Treaty of Xol. 

Kan is easily traversed by full-blooded K’uh and their guests via an instinctual ability to navigate the K’uh’s metaphysical roads or the tortuous roots and branches of the Yaxche. Access for Scions and mortals is slightly more complex. A good death is the fastest (if least appealing) option for entering Kan, but enterprising travelers can simulate death by entering Xibalba through cenotes or ball courts like the ones located in Chichen Itza, then advance heavenward via the Yaxche.

Another option is the road network crisscrossing K’uh territory. Obscure rituals allow mortals to summon Xibalban owls to guide them to these otherwise invisible thoroughfares. The roads are color-coded by direction, and understanding these colors can lead prospective travelers straight to Kan. This journey is not without peril, however. Xibalba’s owls are lethal and apt to lead unwary travelers down the black road to Xibalba for Cizin’s amusement. The roads are also prone to speak and provide inaccurate directions that lead travelers astray. For additional confusion, the K’uh network intersects with its Teotl counterpart that uses a different system of color-coding, making it easy to get lost or worse.

Road Colors of the K’uh & Teotl

The distinction between God and Primordial can be as blurred as that between God and Titan. A Primordial can, like Viracocha, hold an active role in a Pantheon while turning its leadership over to a younger generation of Gods, but most of them are more distant and have grander concerns. They may have created the universe and The World within it, and now exist solely to ensure its continued existence on a scale that no God can match. A few are The World itself, always present but unapproachable by the tiny creatures that crawl across their face. Many of them lack bodies in any comprehensible sense, manifesting as light, truth, or simply Being.

If a Primordial has a realm — and many are so far beyond the cosmos that they cannot be said to — then they may be able to focus their being enough to manifest within it in order to communicate with those who approach them. They do not do this for anything less than a God or a Titan of comparable power. The stars do not halt because an ant wants their attention. Should they take form within their own realm, it will often be in a size that matches their power, the kind whose height is measured in how many thousands of years it would take to measure. More often, though, they communicate indirectly through the realm itself, delivering cryptic messages that are to the Gods as their own omens are to the uncomprehending mortals who receive them. It is a humbling experience.

Most Primordial Realms lack an Axis Mundi: either the Primordial is present somewhere or they are not, and there is no way to cross the gap without them wishing it to happen.

There was a time when Anu, the heavens that contain all that is, took a more active hand in the rulership of the universe, but that time is long past now. All that remains is the memory that he once did, and having passed a measure of his authority on to the Anunna who succeeded him, he can no longer return to that earlier state for more than brief moments. He is always, and will always be, a figure of ages gone by.

Anu’s Primordial Realm is also a God Realm, the seat of power in which the Anunna meet in their councils and issue their decrees for The World. It takes the form of a walled city in which stands an orderly collection of temples, palaces, canals, libraries, treasuries, and storehouses that rise up from a level landscape of uniformly red stone. The waterways surrounding these structures are all lined with lush vegetation, giving the entire complex the air of an oasis amid a vast wasteland. While the Anunna are not incapable of bringing more life to the realm, they see little point to it: they conduct all of their business within the walls or in The World.

In the throneroom of the largest and most central palace stand the thrones of the God-kings of the Anunna, Enlil, Marduk, and Anu. Most of the time, Anu’s throne is empty, but he is still present: he is the authority that gives the other Gods their power, and while they rarely speak of it, they know that he can bestow or remove it as he chooses. Should he decide to make an appearance, an outsider in the throneroom will immediately notice the change in atmosphere as the usually-commanding Anunna fall into respectful silence to listen to what he has to say. Such visits are always as brief as his words are direct, after which the Gods move immediately to act on his dictates.

The nature of Anu is such that visitors who are not already connected to the Anunna will quickly feel themselves obeying their instructions without question as soon as they arrive. Other Gods know this from past experience, so they pay visits to Anu’s realm only when they can send members of their Pantheons whose status will ensure that they are treated as honored dignitaries, not servants.

While there is no Axis Mundi that connects Anu directly to The World, it is possible to descend from it to the lower realm of the Annunaki, the lesser Gods who serve the Annuna as they serve Anu, and from there, to descend once more through the dome of the sky to reach the realm of humanity. The reverse is also possible, if one can find the proper entry point. At the right times of the year, after performing rites to show submission to and respect for the Anunna, a Scion of the Pantheon who stands on top of the White Temple in Uruk, Iraq, may be rewarded by having the stairs to the heavens revealed.

For some Pantheons, the idea that a Primordial Realm is the body of a God is mostly metaphorical, a way of expressing that the God is present in every part of it. For the Netjer, it is quite literal. Nut, the night sky, stretches high above The World in both a physical form — a woman who arches from horizon to horizon, supported by her father Shu — and an expanse of starry darkness through which Ra passes every night in his solar barque. The Duat Underworld lies within her body, while a group of celestial Gods, the Decans, guard her from the outside against attacks by Titans.

Unless traveling with Ra on his nightly journey, joining in the battle against Apep to ensure that the Sun rises again the next morning, there is little reason for most Gods to try to reach Nut. She is not very communicative herself unless a visitor comes with news of her husband, Geb, or any of her children among the Netjer. Even if one does manage to draw her into conversation, there is very little she can do; her father makes certain that she does not descend to The World, knowing that the last time she did, her lovemaking with Geb left no room between Earth and the stars for anything else to exist. The twelve Decans are more likely to be of assistance, but even they are better dealt with as sources of information. Collectively, they are aware of all disturbances in the heavens, each of them having knowledge of one-twelfth of the night sky, and they will share what they know with Scions of the Netjer if entreated with the proper rites. Some Sorcerers know how to call on them as well for the same purpose, and the Decans are only too willing to respond.

Fortunately for Scions who do not wish to make a journey into the sky, those who are familiar with the sciences of astromony and astrology can study Nut and the Decans through a telescope to glean information. It cannot reveal the future, but such study can be very rewarding when trying to perceive anything happening in The World where Nut and her attendant Gods can see it, which is everywhere. For this reason, many of The World’s larger observatories maintain a shrine to the Primordial, and several also keep an astrologer-priest of the Netjer on hand to interpret unusual cosmic events. From supernovas, black holes, and the pulses of distant stars, these priests calculate portents and pass that information on to the Netjer’s Scions. (For more on the body of Nut, see Realms of Magic & Mystery.)

Ra’s barque is the only way to enter the body of Nut. A traveler must board is at the moment of sunset when it prepares to depart in the west, then be willing to fight alongside the Netjer as they face Apep over the course of the night. While someone could decide to leap from the barque at any point in its journey and thereby enter one of the regions of Duat, abandoning the Gods when they are under attack is a sure way never to be permitted to set foot in Ra’s presence again.

There are places that were once the Gods’ that they have abandoned. In some cases, it is because the God or Primordial who gave it its form died; in others, because the Gods were driven out through their own actions. Other realms stand empty because it is not their time yet, so they wait silently for their future occupants.

Scions may try to seek out one of these realms and claim it as their own. In the case of an Overworld of a dead God, especially one of the prehistoric ones whose name and deeds are now lost to memory, the most difficult challenge is finding a way to enter. Explorers should keep in mind, however, that not every dead God is completely dead. Some of them are only sleeping, and take great offense to being woken.

Crossing into an abandoned Overworld is more dangerous. There is always a reason why the Gods left it, and unless a Scion is able to right whatever wrong drove them out (a quest that could be the culmination of a Demigod’s Apotheosis), there will always be repercussions to trespassing. Even if the way into such a realm is relatively easy, whatever lurks there is sure to be a threat.

Niðvellir, which lies far below The World near where the dragon Niðhöggr feasts on corpses and sharpens its teeth on the roots of Yggdrasil, is best described as a work in progress. Hidden away from the other realms of the Æsir in an enormous cavern, it is Fated to become an afterlife for the race of humans who populate The World after Ragnarok. At the moment, it is a sprawling construction project overseen by the dwarves, a city made from gold and cunning artifice that glows with its own light to such an extent that one could be forgiven for forgetting how far away it is from the Sun.

Under the leadership of Sindri, the dwarves bustle about the city to add new buildings, forge decorations, and lay out its complex infrastructure. Most of them have very little time to speak with visitors: they know they have a deadline to complete it, but none of them know when it is, so they always work as if Ragnarok could come at any moment. The only thing that slows them down is if they near Niðhöggr crawling around beyond the cavern walls. When that happens, everyone stops, holds their breath, and waits for the dragon to fall silent again.

I'll be back tomorrow to review our Reward Tiers and discuss some of the Add On options for this project, and then we'll get a sneak peek at some of the Antagonists ahead of Tuesday's manuscript preview. We're in the homestretch now, so it's time to start firming up pledges and joining in if you haven't already! We're also really close to achieving another milestone marker, so let's keep working together to recruit new backers and build our pantheon!