The Burning of the Charnel Cities

Our soldiers had come home, conquerors of some backwards people we had not heard of before but we were told it was a glorious conflict. That was all we needed to hear. Our gods had returned with them, invigorated by the spoils of Faith and Devotion they had claimed from the vile temples of this out-of-mind enemy.

Our celebration lasted for weeks. Warriors were feted for days on end by single households, while the temples of Sylrori and Paas had a never ending throng of celebrants and devotees new and old practically choking the steps. One would think that we had bested the very end of the world itself.

Then one night the ships cut through the Firmament like a hundred knives through the skin of an apple. People thought it was one of a dozen military parades that they had seen that day alone, turning to look as the Empyrean that leaked through their entry framed them rather handsomely in the night sky.

The cheers only grew as they approached, until the floated high above the city itself. No one knew that the same sight was being seen above every city with a temple on Illmaneas. No one noticed that they were not our ships, nor did they fly our colors. No one noticed that their gunports had been open the whole of their flight, nor the faint scars of recent battle they bore through the night. No one could possibly see at that distance the fact that the crews running across decks and rigging, looking below with unreadable expression did not look like Elves. The fireworks made sure no one could see the fuses of firebombs lit and rolled from a dozen decks falling through the air.

After the Ichormachy, the gods that invaded the Human world of Canvas believed their objective complete. They had slain an uncooperative god, pillaged faith and devotion from her temples, and in time the Firmament around Canvas would collapse and take mankind with it if another god did not take pity upon mankind. That was, of course, not really their concern. If nothing else, it would give them good leverage if any decided to come back and ask for more.

While cruel, it was not an uncommon end to war between gods. A race with all it's gods slain was doomed to a death slow and painful, leaving the victor to leave them to their doom or attempt work the now parentless race into their own society. The first option is almost always the road taken by any god. The other was just too hard. That was, until Mankind found out that a god could be made.

This discovery, the creation of the God After, and the creation of subsequent gods from excess divinity allowed Humanity to rearm at a pace never before seen, and pursue revenge in a time where no one was looking at them. Less than a month after the end of the Ichormachy, many of the Thrones of the gods that had participated found themselves in the same circumstance that they had visited upon Humanity when human ships descended up their cities and temples with vengeance in their eyes.

While many worlds had raids visited upon them, brutal and fast as they were, this raid upon several pantheons was made most famous for it's encroachment of the Elven world of Illmaneas. Thought unapproachable, especially after the Throne's gods had gorged upon human divinity, they faced the brunt of human fury. It's largest cities burned, and the divinity stored in it's temples pillaged by the human forces, swelling the power of the newborn gods that gave them protection.

The importance of the razing of these cities, in such a potent location, cannot be overstated. On the surface, it brought humanity into the limelight of the universe, and showcased their newfound abilities. Beneath said surface, it also struck fear into the autochthonic pantheons. Sure, the making of a god was anathema to them. Something unnatural that would have invited harsh reprisal if not a war of cleansing in the past. Yet, after Illmaneas burned beneath the feet of newborn gods, supping on divinity pulled from raised temples, and faith from terrified throngs, who would move against them at risk of being cracked open like a divine cask, only for your very being to become sustenance for abominations. Who knows, had the raid upon Illmaneas failed, or the majority of the smaller raids, humanity may not have become so dedicated to their newfound art.