I had been playing with this world for a few months and had mostly set it aside. I decided to come back to it recently and had started to work on more of the world building/magic system aspect of it. Just for fun I ended up writing a creation myth for the world, explaining how the gods came to be and also giving an origin for other races besides the humans. It also helps set the backdrop for the story. Anyone else want to share their creation myths? Spoiler: Creation Myth Legends say that when the world was young, there were no gods. The earth was an empty wasteland, covered in grey dust, constantly swirling over its smooth, empty surface, turning endlessly through the black void of nothingness,. Then, without warning the skies were sundered and the fountainhead opened up. Raw magic poured down on the world, flowing like a river, digging pits and trenches across the empty vastness. Where the magic pooled, beings began to emerge from the muddy waters. These were the first gods, huge giants of raw power. They looked around at the world and were displeased. Harnessing the magic from the fountainhead they began reshaping the world. First they turned their attention to the earth itself, shaping and melding, adding mountains and canyons, rivers and lakes and all manner of cliffs, hills and valleys. But they were still not happy. Their world was still dull, dark and empty. They created the sky, the clouds and placed the sun in its orbit to lighten their world. The gods saw the grey bones of their world and set out to change it, adding grasses and trees, flowers, vines and all manner of plants. Now, as they toiled, the gods noticed that their statures had shrunk, the great pools of raw magic depleted, and that the fountain heads flow had dropped from a raging current to a mere trickle. The first gods now knew fear. They were beings of raw magic, but they were not infinite. They began to fight among themselves, to devour the essence of the others to maintain their own selves. Soon all the first gods were dead except for one, Arsaphes. Alone he sat and brooded over the bones of his kin. For how long is unknown for time had not yet been brought forth. Eventually he decided that he wanted companions again, and from the bones of his siblings he carved the new gods. So great was his stature in comparison to his children that he could fit several in the palm of his hand. He took these carving and carefully submersed them in the last remaining pit of raw magic from the fountainhead. Sitting back he watched. And watched, Days went by as the sun tirelessly completed its cycle. The pool slowly shrunk and it appeared as though the figures swelled, but they made no movement. Ages went by and the god watched and waited with growing impatience as the pit was slowly depleted. Soon it was empty, leaving the swollen carvings exposing his failures to the cruel light of the sun. The first god raged and bellowed, smashing trees and toppling great mountains, leaving devastation in his wake. Soon though his rage was exhausted, and so was he. The last of the magic pools were gone and the fountainhead's flow was barely enough to sustain him. Laying down next to the empty pool he closed his eyes as he descended into slumber and wait for the trickle of energy to restore him. He awoke to a feeling of emptiness and overwhelming weakness.. His eyes strained to open and he could barely summon the strength to turn his head. In growing fear he became aware of stirrings all around him. He saw dozens of bone-white figures crawling over and around him, their faces and hands stained red. Looking down he saw that well he rested, the figurines had come awake, and driven by the need for energy that had afflicted their ancestors, they sought out the nearest source- Him. He tried to shake them off but he could not move his limbs, he tried to scream but he could not make a sound. Unable to resist, he waited well he was devoured. As the sun cycled through the sky, his body became less. Soon, all that remained was a pile of bleached bones, broken open and stripped even to the marrow. Though at first driven only by the urge to feed, as they devoured their sire and quenched the burning emptiness, the new gods' minds became rational. They began to form ideas of self, thoughts and desires, language and purpose. The new gods romped and explored the world that existed before them. Well there were hundreds of themselves, the world was so vast they rarely saw each other. With no one to teach them, they named themselves and the things they saw. As time passed, they began to change from the bone white dolls they began adding to themselves from the materials surrounding them. Some chose the skin of rocks, others the hair of grass, or eyes of coral. The gods grew lonely and began to join into small groups. Driven to fill the world they began to experiment, making animals to populate the land, birds to fill the air and fish to swim through the vast, empty waters. The gods were pleased with this for many years but soon became bored with their own company. They began to join into larger groups and ask each other questions: If our father could create companions, why cannot we? We are more clever than our father we will make beings who do not feed on magic to be our companions and servants. First, Ninhursag reached into the dirt of the pit and pulled forth a lump of primordial clay. She fashioned a man built in their image out of it and breathed life into the form. The figure came to life and stood, looking up at the gods. However, as she had worked, storm clouds had gathered and now let loose. The figure began to melt and shrink under the torrent, losing it’s tall proud form and becoming squat and wrinkly. The gods were angry and kicked away the cowering figure as it tried to hide from the rain. With a cry of fear and hatred it forced itself into a hole in the mountainside, to hide from the world above. Next, Draighionn carved a figure from the wood of a sapling. Graceful, Tall and slender he made it, with long arms and legs that swayed in the wind, and hair composed of reeds and grasses. When he breathed life into this figure it began twisting in the wind, thorns sprouting out and the skin darkening to grey, growing course and scaly, with bright orange under outer edges.. It looked at the gods with disdain and hissed, revealing a mouth of sharp needle like teeth before turning and loping off, long hands reaching down near its feet as it bounded into the brush. Scoffing at the two gods, proud Bunjil strode forward. Taking feathers he stripped the barbs and used the calamus to form a figure, talons became hands and feet, downy feathers covering the head. When his power was channeled into the still form, it thickened and grew, becoming a woman with wings for arms and birdlike feet. With a hunting eagles shriek she launched herself into the air as the other gods laughed. Stone and coral, gems and clouds, light and wind, land animals and fishes. The gods experimented for a long time, each choosing the item they loved the most in the world. Each convinced they would succeed where the others failed. Long they labored but none of their children pleased them. Frustrated they began to quarrel and fight over whose fault it was that they had failed. Finally, they reached a consensus. Carefully they set out to gather the items they needed. The remaining shards of bone from their father were split and polished, shaped and formed into a skeleton. Leather was gathered from the creatures of the forest and used to connect the bones. Clay was shaped and molded around the bones to give it form. Pearls were placed in the mouth as teeth, gemstones for eyes, the finest reeds as hair. The gods labored and argued but eventually the figure was formed to their satisfaction. Breathing life into the figure, it opened its eyes and looked around, raising its arms it called out to the gods with a cry of joy, awe and happiness. The gods were pleased and rejoiced in their creation. They took it far and wide in the world, teaching it language and their names for the world, how to grow food and hunt, to build and cloth itself. They made others of its kind so that it could breed and multiply, and many gods soon had their own groups. Their children praised them and worshiped them and the gods were happy, feeding on the power that flowed from their children and gaining strength from it. However, being born from blood and flesh, the gods soon became jealous of each other and the people they shepherded. Through careful husbandry, luck or theft, some had more than others and it was with contempt and envy that they noticed their powers had become unequal. They soon began to war among themselves over who deserved to have the most of the humans, and what to do with them. Were humans sheep to be tended, game pieces to me maneuvered at whim, or mistakes to be purged and the world reformed anew? These were the questions that split the gods and goddesses. Soon the arguments moved beyond force of words to force of arms and the world was plunged into chaos. The very face of the land reshaped. Many gods fell at the hands of their brethren and were devoured, their worshipers stolen and temples torn down. Eventually, one set emerged victorious and their enemies were scattered and imprisoned beneath the earth. The survivors, those who sought to nurture the fledgling human states, were led by the Echilibru, the god of Balance, and Kaadilan, the god of Justice. Together with the remaining gods they created the floating city of Babesleku, located directly beneath the fountainhead. The gods settled into their new home, harvesting the raw magic they coveted while overseeing their worshipers, gaining power as their children prospered and multiplied. Spoiler: Main Plot The creation myth as humans know it is wrong. Well the gods did fight among themselves over what to do with humans, the Echilibru and Kaadilan were not among the victorious. The set that won were led by the god of genocide and terror, and the god of deceit and treachery. Their faction views humans as toys. These gods each assumed the aspects of one of the other, more benevolent(and more worshiped) gods who was defeated. Each of the gods/goddesses was given a land/faction, and they set about seeing who could 'win'. As each god is defeated, they are forced to cede their worshipers to the victor. Now, only two remain. The story starts with the MC stumbling upon one of the imprisoned gods and being drawn into the game.
I'm still working on the details, but here it goes: Before the gods, there was only stone, ice, and darkness. The stone formed the 5 Mountains named Ivora, Gregard, Obsidius, Gintaras, and Gwyndolen. With no light, the world was shrouded in darkness, taking form in their younger sister Maia, the embodiment of darkness. Around them howled the winds and snow of blizzards that would last for centuries, eventually creating their younger brother, Gocha, who embodied the cold. Eventually, there was another being in their world who made her home in a mountain cave where there was some warmth to be found. She would later be known as Ava, the Feathered Goddess. The mountain she lived in complained of her presence, and both Maia and Gocha went to get rid of her. When they found her, she offered each sibling a gift from her homeworld in exchange for her stay. To Gocha, she showed him a process that involved an oiled piece of wood from her homeland and would then create a strange, warm light on its tip. She said that it was fire and instructed him to throw it into the sky when it fully consumed the wood. Maia watched the fire in fascination until the fire began to burn his hand to a crisp. With a scream, he flung it into the air. Almost immediately, he looked on as the fire had begun to grow bigger and bigger until it became a great ball of light in the sky. Its warmth drove the clouds and cold away, bringing light to the world. From there, the snow had begun to melt and form into the great rivers, oceans, and other bodies of water featured in Thilhelm. This water also created new life like the trees, grass, and animals. Yet, with the heat from the great fire and himself being made of the cold, Gocha found his life gradually coming to an end. Yet, even as he aged and became grey, he continued to walk along the earth to help the new life that had been born. When he passed, Lycoris, the embodiment of death, was born from his shadow. Lycoris then burned his father's body and kept his ashes in an urn with the hope that he would return.
The One God was formed from the Void That Came Before. And he, like all others that came after him was bound by Destiny. He was lonely, so he created the Elder Gods, and bade them "make me some s**t". So they created the Four Worlds. One all for themselves (the Upper World, the world of Light), one for the mortal races (the Middle World, the World of Day and Night), one that they mostly couldn't be bothered with (the Lower World, the World of Shadow), and what was left of the Void (the World of Darkness). Which is technically three worlds, but they took credit for the fourth one anyway. The Elder Gods created the Elder Races, version 1.0 of the mortal races, who were immortal. And there was much rejoicing, and worshipping going on, with plenty of wine and orgies. But then the Elder Gods screwed up and started breaking stuff because no one could stop them. So the One God created the Law of Balance, and said "'K guys, we're outta here." So the Elder Gods created the New Gods and said unto them "We shall create a Law that binds you so you not f**k up like we did. You shall be bound by Time so that what is done may not be undone. No save points. And oh yeah, we're leaving Mother Dragon as the Guardian of Balance. If you *do* f**k up, she will deliver unto you an ass-whooping." Thus the Elder Gods and their dad passed from this world. The New Gods looked upon the world and saw that it was good. And they came to the Elder Races and said "Worship us, for we are glorious." The Elder races replied "Screw you, buddy." So the New Gods created the mortal races as we know them today, and they were bound by the Law of Death, for the New Gods had learned that they needed a big stick with which to beat their creations. And the mortal races, being the last to awaken, were bound by Destiny least of all, and could shape their own futures.
Well, within the setting it's not really a "myth", in the same sense that the big bang theory isn't a myth. But basically, the universe/multiverse sort of exists in layers from lowest/deepest and then going up/outward. The bottom/center is the source of all magic, which is effectively a chaotic, creative force that changes reality. Consequently, it is a realm where reality is in constant flux and there aren't any real natural laws. Magic then rises up from this core dimension but also dissipates, so the "higher up" you go the less magic there is. This process may be what allows "worlds" to exist in the first place, as existence requires some sort of creative force. Our world (the real one) is rather high up so there are no measurable amounts of magic: Reality here is very, very stable and governed by rigid laws, to the point of being nearly immutable. The main setting on the other hand is a "lower" world somewhere between the core and our world - a sort of "island of stability" where there is just enough magic to affect reality directly yet enough stability for reality to be consistent and comprehensible. It is said that a long time ago, the mortal folk fell from into the world "like stars" while the gods rose from below, the latter having originated in a much lower plane of existence, if not the heart of magic itself. Unlike mortals who are made out of physical matter, the gods are essentially made out of very dense magic. At first they where these really alien, nebulous things who took on forms vaguely representing their natures, and they couldn't easily communicate with the mortals. The mortals meanwhile recognized the gods as immensely powerful and kinda unpredictable, so they did their best to appease them. The gods were very curious about the mortals, however, and eventually their curiosity turned to fascination in lack of other stimuli. Eventually they learned to speak with the mortals, and over time started to take on their characteristics and forms until finally they looked and behaved as what we would generally consider humans. (For the most part. A few took the forms of animals or whatever, because they wanted to.) Of course, they were still ageless, almost invulnerable and capable of amazing feats. Being creatures prone to mild obsession whenever they come across something that interests them, most of the gods took on very specific interests by which they further defined their identities. (So, for example, a god of agriculture is just really, really into farming.) In the current era, where a lot has changed, the (surviving) gods vaguely remember the early days and their origins, which is why all of this isn't really considered a myth. However, they admit to being as clueless as anyone else about the origin of magic and the ontology of the universe. Very rarely, people from our world "fall" into the lower one. The people of the setting are aware of this and call them Starfallen, so if they run into someone wearing strange clothes and acting very confused, they pretty much know what they're dealing with. It's relatively easy for a mortal to fall down, whereas "going up" requires so much energy it isn't believed to be possible in practice. It may be a bit easier for the gods to go upwards, since magic generally wants to drift in that direction, but it would also be much more dangerous since their existence would grow more ethereal and flimsy until they disappear in a puff of logic. In theory it's possible a very powerful and stubborn god could maintain him or herself in our plane in some form, perhaps as a living idea or specter, but none of them have been keen on finding out.
Here's an interesting bent of this in several forms, first being that it takes place in a science fiction setting with starships, space travels, alien races and all that fun stuff. As it turns out a lot of the alien races in my setting are monotheistic. Not all of them, but a lot, and while there's of course variation by race, most share a good deal of commonalities too. This has actually caused some theologians to postulate it's quite possible they're all in fact worshipping the same god, only with a different face. There are some that are polytheistic and have their own creation myth, and at least two have no religion at all. One is an insectoid race that believe in evolution, and another has no religion because they know they were genetically engineered.
Listen, my sons and daughters, for I will tell you how you came to be. It is a tale of blood, death and fire, of ash and ice. But from it came all life and beauty. In the beginning, there was nothing. No land. No sea. No life, no laughter. Then, monsters were born from the chaotic nothingness, and they bred and ate each other. Their blood pooled and collected, and the god Haemorio was born. As the monsters clashed, sparks flew into the pool of blood. The god Phryaxes was born, and the blood burned away, leaving behind iron and ash, birthing the god Feriamor. The Three slew the monsters, forging the earth from the greatest’s head. The eyes became the stars, the sun and moons, and the corpses of the monsters heaped into a wall higher than the sky and broader than the sea. The gods begot children, lesser gods of sun, moon, ice and flame, rock and water, the six rulers of the earth. In those days, the earth was colder than ice, yet great fires blazing within the decaying skull. The blood of the monsters birthed the animals and plants, and the monsters we know and fear today. In the heaps of corpses, maggots spawned and bred, and attacked the gods. The Eldest gods, the Three, were slain. Their blood flowed into the depleted blood of the mountains of monsters, birthing mankind. Only one goddess lived: the Sun Queen. She was wounded, but led men to victory, slaughtering the maggots and burning them all to ash. The sparks from the fires warmed the earth, and made it livable for men. The Sun Queen wed the greatest of all men, and ruled a kingdom of kings. But her wounds sapped her might. To survive in a new form, she bled and gave her blood to her children. All burned, save one: the First King. He forged a kingdom, and the Sun Queen’s power fueled his might. He sired sons and daughters, the ancestors of our lords. They had power unbreakable, and their descendants bore their legacy. That is how we came to be.
This is the background for my “Patrons’ World” stories: Once there were the gods. They wanted to create and mold and design the universe. There was, also, the Great Dragon, who thrived upon destruction and stagnation and nothingness. Each time the gods created the universe, the Great Dragon would destroy it. After many iterations, the gods chose to combine their powers to end the Great Dragon once and for all. They merged, becoming the One-That-Was-Many, Vaiah. Vaiah defeated the Great Dragon, but, in victory, Vaiah became mortally wounded, for even immortals can be killed. With Vaiah’s last breath, they created a new universe and left it to grow, dying upon completion of their greatest work. As the body of the One-That-Was-Many decomposes, outside the reality of the universe, the energy of their combined forms leaks into the universe in the form of Essence, splitting into their component energies. These energies gave rise to the Daamon, a new race of immortals, and, millenia later, humanoids emerged upon the planet Ch’ack. The Daamon took it upon themselves to appear as gods to the humanoids. Some rose to being worshipped and accepted the name Patron. But the Daamon and Patrons were fickle and petty and envious of each other. They fought for power and recognition among themselves and each time they fought, they would tear Ch’ack asunder and remake the world, the Upheavals. There have been many Upheavals. Many times the world has been broken, remade and broken again. It is the way of things for the people of Ch’ack. The last Upheaval occurred over a thousand years ago and the envy, the pettiness and the fickleness of the Patrons stirs once more.
For now I just have short notes: Creation World was created from a primordial ocean. This ocean was formed into a sphere, and then land was brought to it. Human soul was brought down from the heavens, passing other planets and their elements (fire, ice, earth) and taking on their characteristics – both good and bad. Rebirth World got destroyed in a Great Flood, cleansed and reborn. I am trying to draw from a combination of Biblical mythology and Mithraism. "Rebirth" part is less mythology and more "forgotten history". There truly was Great Flood (thanks to asteroid impact) which wiped out most of humanity. In fact, right now, my world is supposed to be the future of modern world. Fact that it is pseudo-medieval rather than sci-fi should tell you all you need to know about how it goes for us...
My turn. This is for a Norse-ish kind of world. The creation of the world's firmaments is shrouded in mystery for no one knows how or cares to speak of it. Old and sleeping giants may know but they speak little of it in terms of truth and seers cannot easily see so far through the mists of time. But what is important to those living is the start with the Tyrant of the Worlds. He was a mighty creature, not god, human, beast or giant. Not elf, dwarf, fairy or troll. He was simply the iron-crowned king over the worlds who shaped the nine worlds according to his desire and formed all life so that it might please him in what way he so wished. Of the tyranny of the Great Tyrant details need not be said, for it would be to ghastly, gruesome and long. But what is important is that the greatest of his two sons turned on him, weary of violence and pain for themselves and others, and so threw him down. But as the Great Tyrant fell, so did he curse his sons to be his heirs. And from that the two, one firstborn and the other the most accomplished, come to blows over their father's throne. The gods divided themselves between them and since that time strife has plague the nine worlds.
In my perpetually stuck in edits fantasy novel: the universe existed. It created powerful beings that went and created worlds and peoples. On this particular world, the great and powerful beings (called the Progenitors) created the people and let them do their thing. Then they called out for lesser gods to come and choose a people to "adopt" as their own. Each of these lesser gods (and goddesses) have their own specialties. For example, the one that takes care of the MC's country is known for her crafting (among other things). So it is a nation of crafters, predominantly. And fishers but I digress. Most everyone in this country worships that goddess but others do not. Some follow the Progenitors. Some follow the gods of neighboring countries, etc. Some follow more than one. The conflict is with another nation whose deity leaves them because they ran out of pretty things to show him. The nation was left with nothing but the priests and those who live in huts because everything went to build bigger and bigger temples. They want to take over the MC's country because they seem them as simple crafters even though there's the crown's army, the goddess' army, etc. Their idea is if they take over this nation, they'd have their material wealth and a new source of folks who will keep building so their god returns. No one who worships that god is allowed in the MC's nation since their goddess and the greedy bastid god made a deal. His priests want to break that deal. In a nutshell.
I love creation stories/myths and almost always end up writing one into my stories~ Here are the openings to two creation myths attached to a pair of stories of mine that are in the same universe, each with their own gods of light/dark (a more traditional fantasy story with magic and such) and water/air (a more primordial monomyth): Of Sun and Shade: The first ray of light cut into darkness, and burned through the curtain of bleak fog covering the motionless world below. It revealed blue sky, white cloud, and rolling, grassy-green hills. Speckles of fragrant color dotted the landscape with endless shapes, shades, and hues. Life sprang into being, and in a flash filled the grassland and sky. Innumerable creatures flitted from flower to flower, buzzed, zipped around and sang. Other furry, four-legged critters munched the fresh glowing blades beneath them as though they had been doing so for countless eons before. At the epicenter of this radiant field stood a small girl. That original glow landed where the girl once stood in timeless darkness. It saturated her hair with iridescent gold, and imbued each strand with unbridled shine. A soft, white ball of fluff bounding through the grassland bumped into her, and wiped some of its bleaching hue onto her skin just as the sun’s rays shaved off the last of the darkness still clinging to her newly-revealed form. Warmth flooded her body and displaced the emptiness that had been there before. Life had entered her, and was already overflowing. For the first time, her eyes felt their purpose. The lush grass filled her eyes with its emerald green, and never left. A breeze that would never stop flowing bent the grass as it made its way into her ears, and when the girl tried to make the same sounds, she kept them for her name: Soluna. Of Water and Air: Before the dawn of the first day, the world existed as a dark and stagnant place. Unseen grasses never rustled and bubbling springs had yet to flow, until… The sun arose. In that moment, at that first glimmer, all shadowed things were lit with colors innumerable, colors that had yet to be seen or named. The world warmed, and all at once breathed its first breath. The first-ever breeze to rustle the leaves stretched its waking sigh over the land. It skimmed over the flowers and caressed the soft grasses with its wind. The longer the wind flew, the larger its wave grew as it gathered mementos of all that it touched during its exploration of such a shining world reborn. That vibrant gale soon came upon its first stream of fallow water. The curious air blew along the tiny stream, raising the first of many crests and troughs which from that first day would never again be still. The wind admired the sparkling sky-blue water until it finally came across its source: A shallow bubbling spring. The eager current, wanting to frolic with its new bauble, pulsed and whipped among the gathering foam. The tiny bubbles whisked into the air’s playful grasp where they romped with the dust, dirt, and pollen similarly whirling in the rollicking winds. The bubbling spray lifted high from the water. It clung to the cyclone’s current running through its airy veins, and as the rising wind blew onward, broke free. --- Thanks for reading!
What a cool concept! I love how there's this built-in tension between each of the layers, between the idea of "logic" and "magic" existing at opposite ends of a spectrum, and swinging back and forth as someone moves either up or down. It almost makes me envision grains of sand moving through an hourglass, or the ebb and flow of the tide~
You can also envision it sorta like sunlight: It grows dimmer the further away you get from the sun, and life as we know it can only exist relatively near it, but there is also a limit to how close you can get to a star before it becomes really unhealthy.
In the time before the Age of Light, the Pantheon gods and their immortal attendants, crossed the great gulf of the stars fleeing a dying world. They came upon a new home, a world they named Ans'uar and descended from the sky. It was a good world. A beautiful world. It was their new home. But it was not empty. The creatures of this world, the dragons, the nifiri and the scathe and others, worshipped the Feral Gods. Capricious, unforgiving beings who did not wish to share the world. A war was fought that split the beings of Ans'uar, most joining the Pantheon and a few remaining with the Ferals. Eventually the Ferals were beaten and exiled to small corner of the world they once controlled. A new era began, the Age of Light. The Pantheon created new beings in the images of those lost on their first home, Man chief among them. And they were looked over by the Attendants of the Gods, the children of Anguise who had taken the form of Ans'uar's mighty dragons. His children were named the Aelfen, immortal beings who watched over the world, who taught and guided them. For three thousand years the Age of Light endured - until the day Anguise's brother, Deceduir, went mad. He took with him an attendant, a lord of a high Aelfen house, and through him was spread the madness of the anthem, the scourge that turned their light to dark. Driven by his malice, the guardians of Ans'uar turned against the world. Shedding tears of blood, Anguise cast his light once more upon his children, but by then the damage had been done. Too many had been lost to the darkness, and the fires of war raged high and bright, as the forces birthed from Deceduir sought to destroy all else. And then the very mantle of the world broke. The wrath of gods proved too strong for it to endure any more. Floods drowned the lands as fires raged in a conflagration that erased thousands of years of civilization. A last vestige of remained, an alliance led of Aelfen and Man who managed to defeat Deceduir and his minion. But all that was left of the world that had been were now bitter memories wreathed in sorrow. The gods could no longer touch the world, lest they rend it anew. They departed to a new realm in the aether, the last of the Aelfen choosing to join them. The healing world would be left to the mortals who remained. But the darkness of Deceduir was not so easily defeated. A final strike sent the last of Anguise's children falling back to the world, a child who in time must stand against the darkness rising once more in the shadows...
The only creation myth I ever wrote, for a project that sadly didn't go very far because it was supposed to be a collab with an illustrator but we broke up (not only artistically, but also artistically). Translated from French rapidly so it's a bit awkward^^ In the time before time, there was the desert, going all the way in all directions. In the desert lived the god, sleeping in the sand, drinking black water from the secret wells and eating the fruits of the kalue trees. But the god was lonely. He made men and women to keep him company. Yet the men were dying from thirst and the women were crying in hunger, so the god gave them the seven springs and he made goats for them to keep. The god lived by the spring with the first people for 14 years. Then the desert called him again. Why are you sleeping under a roof ? Why are you eating roots and goat meat ? Why are you drinking this tasteless water ? And the god saw that the desert was right, and he hugged the men and the women and told them many secrets. And so we honor the god for giving us the springs and the goats, and we live fourteen years as children until we are taught the secrets of the god.
It's not a creation myth, but it's how I like to play them: One of my favorite settings I've created is populated with many different anthropomorphic species, tribes and religious alliances. With such vastly differing perspectives, I'd rather have each faction create their own origin mythos. While each group has their own unique beliefs, the reader would be left guessing which, if any, are actually true, and to what degree. This could be an interesting way to bring texture to characters, highlight different cultural dynamics and draw in philosophical conflict between factions, instead of having one single universally known creation myth that everyone in the setting adheres to. And perhaps one or two of those deities do exist... I'm currently outlining a story where such difference become a critical plot element and a major threat to the MC's society.
Anthro species are fun. Animal motifs give a lot of inspiration for writing different psychologies, social structures, and physical abilities. I did a similar thing of having a planet populated with primitive anthro factions, all seed races of a fallen precursor civilization. They all have different religions built around what little they know of their creators and the advanced tech they manage to retain and maintain. One idea they all have in common is that demons will one day come from the sky and bring forth the apocalypse, which falls in line with what happens when human colony ships arrive.
Speaking of races, I've considered implying that neither of my fictional ethnicities are Homo sapiens. Not outright saying anything, but showing how different their biologies are. One of them has clear modifications for warfare, the other has a vague 'connection' to each other. Physically though, they're very human in appearance.
Humanoid non-humans build up the expectation that they'll act like humans, so you can subvert those expectations for some interesting settings and characters. For example, if a human-looking alien with a decentralized brain got shot in the head, the readers would expect it to die, but it could easily survive, even applying a tourniquet around the neck to mitigate blood loss.
The most terrifying part about the 'warriors' is that they have some really horrible blood magic innate to their biology. Some are practically vampires, but not traditional at all except for being beautiful, blood-drinking and pale horrors.
I personally like "hard" anthropomorphism, particularly in Fantasy, where the animalistic attributes far outweigh any human characteristics, such as in C.S. Lewis' Narnia. I've read many Anthro stories where the anthropomorphism seemed gimmicky: if I wasn't explicitly told the characters were particular species, I would never know the difference, and it had no effect on the story proper. In my own writing, I strive to have almost all aspects of the characters abilities, perceptions and lifestyles that of the individual species, and the only humanistic qualities are speech (rational thought), bipedalism and thumbs.
I don't like soft interpretations of genres because they have a tendency to use the associated visuals of the genre as a veneer. Like Star Wars. It's technically science fiction but it could just as easily take place in a medieval setting with magic because there are few genre-specific universe mechanics that are essential to the plot. In the same sense, it's not fun when anthro species are literally just reskinned humans and could be substituted without any meaningful differences.
