The Origin of the Humans - Aetolia Online Help

16.3.6 The Origin of the Humans

As told by Meyrkar:

In the time of the great unknowing, we understood neither friendship nor trust,
malice nor memory, and yet we understood danger. In the creaking darkness of
night, in the tall cliffs, in the blue seas, and seemingly on every hillside,
there was danger. Yet in each other, there was strength.

Even in this age of ignorance and instinct, we quickly learned the power of
many against one. She who walks alone falls prey to the lion's jaws that much
more quickly than he who breathes the same air as his kin. And so it was that
many mortals came to travel in groups, usually no larger than a dozen. Each had
its own leaders and subordinates, and its own purpose.

Some of the groups frolicked in the shadows of the hills, delighting in the
bounty of the greener lands. Some of the groups hunted in the mountains,
developing a taste for meat. Most lived as best they could on any nourishment
at hand, with no preference more important than convenience. It is not known
how long these packs roamed, but there was one dawn that changed all those that
would follow.

With the rising of the sun came dim realization, even in the minds of the poor,
nearly mindless mortals. They looked out from where they stood and realized all
other groups stood with them. Together, upon one plain, thousands of groups had
been gathered, through that force we call "coincidence" when we turn our eyes
from the Divine. Together they stood, some groups hardly larger than a handful,
others mighty herds, and they saw that they were different.

Some had travelled the high slopes of the north, and their skin had become pale
and hair dark. Some had dined upon insects and fungus of the earth, and shied
their tender blue eyes from the light. Some had grown leaner, their teeth proud
and white and long, while others snuffled at the ground with wide noses and
probing fingers.

They did not know each other, for each group had become accustomed to their own
appearance. To each, all other groups appeared strange and utterly alien in
form and behavior, and though they did not know of fear, they knew of danger.
Each group shrank away from the others, suspecting the other "creatures" of
attack or other, unpredictable hazards. And Varian, the Satus, looked upon the
mortals and felt pity.

Speaking to them from the heavens, He said, "Though you are different, you are
the same. Do not fear your brothers and sisters, for you are now Human, all.
Many are the children you shall bear, in a great variation that is pleasing to
Me."

When again they looked down from the firmament, they saw that they were indeed
the same, yet different. The will of the Celestine swept through the plains
upon which they stood, shaping their physique to the Human mold we know today.
Though of many shapes and hues and postures, we knew each other not to be
creatures. Each group left that plain without knowledge or understanding of
what had happened, yet bearing a wordless sense of great fortune.