The gods who created the world ruled over it and us for millennia unknown, but there came a day where they all passed into the shining realm and ceased to be. It wasn't just the gods of one people who were suddenly gone either. All the gods left together to fight in the God War, and none of them survived. After that, the age of mortals came. We were forced to rule ourselves and have done so ever since. It has not been easy to get the bickering people of the world to agree, but without our gods, we had to find common ground with each other. It took generations for the laws we know today to be written, but slowly we the people of the world came to understand each other. As for the creator gods, they left us very little. Some of the relics of their power were fought over, but others were simply forgotten.

One of these lost relics was a temple deep in the misty foothills of the primordial forest. Centuries came and went, and it waited to be discovered. Few are sure why it went unnoticed for so long. It is possible wards were placed over it to keep out intruders and these had to wear down over time until they would release the temple back into the world, but it is also possible it was just too remote for someone to find it. Even today, parts of the primordial forest are still full of uncontrollable magic we know little about, and those areas are best left to do their own thing. There are simply areas human hunters did not venture into and even the elves are hesitant to tread. Yet even with a wilderness full of dangerous magic, eventually someone will come along willing to explore it.

A young gnoll is the one who finally chose to walk into the shrouded mists, and set out to map the rivers and streams that reached into the foothills. Thyrm was a druid, and it was the sworn duty of his order to protect nature. To do that though, they needed someone to explore the area and map it. They considered sending many people to do that task, but they did not know what lay in the forest. They settled on sending one person to carefully explore, and he would report back what he encountered. They could have sent a man or an elf, but they sent a gnoll. We are fortunate that they did. I would not be able to tell you some of these stories if Thyrm had not undertaken this task.

The forest was thick and hard to penetrate. The trees blocked out the sun, while thick vines and mists made travel difficult. Even for someone so skilled as a woodsman, it was challenging for him to keep his bearings. Sometimes the mists would play tricks on the gnoll and he would walk in circles for hours. Often Thyrm had to use his magic to fly up above the trees as a raven to reorient himself with the lay of the land. He was trying to find the source of a stream deep in the foothills when he encountered the temple. He had been following up the stream's bank, making mental notes, when moss-covered glyphs on a rock by the water's edge caught his attention. They were well worn, suggesting they had been there a very long time, and that immediately piqued his curiosity; he'd seen no signs of civilization for days. He inspected the markings carefully and then searched nearby to see if there were others.

At first, the gnoll wasn't sure what he'd found, but the massive stone slab he encountered half-buried in the ground had to have been erected by someone. When he found three more in quick succession, he began to suspect this had once been a grand complex. There was quite a bit of cut stone poking out of the ground, but all of it lay hidden under the ancient trees that grew here. He'd overflown the forest multiple times and never noticed this place.

 Thyrm tried to trace the layout of the complex, but much of it was buried, lost to time. There appeared to be several ruined structures here, yet only the bones of stone remained. Ruined walls were scattered in the woods along with stone columns reaching up to support roofs that had long since fallen. He suspected many buildings had included extensive wooden parts which had long ago rotted away. There were reliefs, but almost all were broken or worn. The stone surfaces in many places were too damaged to tell what they depicted. There was also something about this place that made him clutch his staff tighter, made him pause to listen carefully to the sounds of the woods. When he found a courtyard cut into a hill, he knew what about this ruin was sending shivers down his spine and into his tail.

A statue of a gnoll stood in the middle, its features weathered, but still visible. Nearby, an intact wall contained writing carved in the common alphabet. These were the same letters he used to write in, but the words were all different. He reasoned this was in the old tongue, the one the common trade language had developed from. There was one word though carved in the stone that stood out, and his heart sank realizing its meaning had not changed over time: 'god.'

The context was lost to Thyrm, the meaning of the inscription impossible for him to understand, but this single word told him much. This was once a sacred place, but it was also a secret place. The storytellers spoke of the traditions the people of the world once followed that were now lost. None of the gods had survived the coming of the false gods and the God War. The names of the gods were no longer spoken because those names had no power anymore. The elves and dwarves still sang of their lost gods, but the gnolls did not. For this place to have been a temple to a gnoll god, it had to be thousands of years old.

It appeared it had lain here undisturbed for generations, but he couldn't be the first to find it, could he? When he'd prepared for this journey, he'd found nothing in the old records about there being a temple in the forest. He'd encountered no name or reference to a lost temple, and yet a place this big must have once been incredibly important. Perhaps it had always been hidden, and this was why the forest around it was so impenetrable.

He looked around, trying to ascertain if there was a danger he should be aware of, but the only sounds he heard were the sounds of the deep woods. The birds seemed unconcerned about his presence. The only scents his nose picked up were of leaves and moss, yet there was a feeling of there being more—something just beyond his senses that was more like an itch than a scent or a sound. He leaned forward to sniff at the rocks, but all he could smell from them was wet stone.

The gnoll considered, looking at the inscription and the courtyard cut into the hill. Should he be here? Maybe not. Maybe he should leave because there was a reason this place sat undisturbed, but Thyrm also wanted to know why it was here. So much was forgotten and lost, and so little known about the passing of the gods, that this discovery could be an invaluable source of information about the God War. He needed to document the find and bring that knowledge to his order. They would take this to the sages who would be able to decipher the inscriptions. The druid had not brought tools to survey the ruins with, so he would have to do his best. It would be difficult for him to return and guide anyone else here, so it was important to get as much information as he could now.

Thyrm found a reasonably dry spot in the courtyard to sit and make some observations. He carefully made notes about the statue. He copied down the inscriptions to show to his order. He counted off how many paces the courtyard was to get dimensions. While he was doing this, he found his next major discovery at the side of the courtyard cut deepest into the hill. Behind thick vines, half-buried by dirt, there was an opening with a passage into the hillside.

He finished his notes about the courtyard and then studied the portal he'd found. The passage smelt strongly of earth, and while dirt had built up over time, he was able to push his way in. While the entranceway was tight due to the obstructions, once he was inside he realized he'd found a grand arcade cut into the hill. This too had been decorated with detailed carvings, although in the gloom of the stone tunnel, it was difficult to tell what they depicted. There were also more inscriptions, but he didn't see any that used the word 'god.'

The gnoll could see well in the dark, but the entranceway was the only source of light. The further in he went, the harder it would be for him to find his way. He crouched down to scent the ground, and that's when he caught it, very faintly mixed in with the smell of earth and stone: the scent of another gnoll.

He sniffed around, trying to see how long ago they'd passed this way, but he couldn't tell. He'd not noticed the scents of any others in the courtyard. Maybe there was another entrance to this underground area. Also, if someone was down here, would they want company? They could be using the complex as a hideout, but who would be hiding this deep in the woods? Unless he'd gotten turned around, the nearest village was a two-day hike through dense forest.

He frowned. The scent was very faint. Maybe it was old, something the stones had held onto from another wanderer. There was only one way to know, he told himself, as he stood up and took a deep breath. He whispered the incantation and the tip of his staff lit up with a soft light. With that, he started down the passageway.

It was cut straight into the hillside and seemed to be level. After a hundred or so feet, two chambers opened off the corridor. The one on the left appeared to have been a storeroom of some kind with decayed baskets stacked against the wall. Mostly it was dirt with bits of weaving still present. Whatever had once been in there had long since rotted away. Thyrm idly poked at the remains, and they broke apart in his paws.

The chamber on the right contained the remains of some type of statue that had been smashed when part of the ceiling had come down. Stone and pottery fragments lay scattered on the floor. The walls were unadorned, and the purpose of this room escaped Thyrm. It could have been a shrine or a place offerings were prepared. The gnoll took a cursory look around, but nothing caught his attention. The remains of the pottery would be of interest to the sages, so he left the shards undisturbed,

Another hundred feet down, the passageway opened up to a pillared chamber with a high ceiling, and it was here that Thyrm found his next major discovery. To the right of the entranceway, set into the walls, there was a grand wooden door, and next to it hung a single torch, flickering in the still air.

The gnoll carefully crept forward and examined the torch. At first, he worried it was a sign of recent activity, but it gave off no heat and was some type of magical effect. How long had it been here? Its feeble light barely illuminated the room, yet it marked this entranceway for some reason. Perhaps it was the last bit of magic still here, hanging on in the gloom.

He took a deep sniff, and again caught the smell of gnoll. It was stronger here, almost as if the source was on the other side of the door. Thyrm studied the wood. It was carved with depictions of gnolls. The door was also firmly shut, the hinges rusty, yet still holding firm. They had not been opened in a long time, but if they weren't opened, how did someone get to the other side?

He frowned and debated with himself in the flickering torchlight before he reached up and grasped the iron door handle. The door loomed over him silently. He took a deep breath, tightened his paws around the handle, and pulled on the door.

The hinges at first didn't want to budge, but he kept tugging, and slowly they opened with a loud squealing sound. Anyone on the other side heard him as if he screamed his name, but that was not the biggest shock. Beyond the door, there was faint daylight, and that was because the chamber opened to the sky. An ancient tree grew in the middle of the opening, marking this as a sacred grove.

He stepped into the room and looked around the large circular space, and that's when he saw him.

A gnoll much bigger than Thyrm was kneeling before the tree. At first, Thyrm thought he might be dead, but the gnoll slowly turned to look at him and then stood up.

He was taller than Thyrm, taller than any gnoll he'd ever seen before, and clad in a simple tunic, and a pair of trousers that ended at the knee.

“Finally, someone has come," he said in a raspy voice with an accent unlike any he'd heard before. “I had thought I was forgotten."

Thyrm looked at the stranger as he approached and towered over him. “I wasn't sure if anyone was down here," he replied.

“Did my kin send you?" asked the other gnoll.

“I do not know your kin."

The gnoll tilted his head and took a deep sniff. “You are mortal," said the large gnoll.

Thyrm felt himself go stiff. “Yes… you're not?"

The large gnoll shook his head. “I am Oanyu."

“Thyrm."

Oanyu looked at him carefully. “You don't know who I am?"

Thyrm shook his head.

The large gnoll's shoulders sagged. “I should have known. I have wondered why they left me, but now I know. How did you find me?"

“I scented you in the passageway."

Oanyu looked at the open door. “And what magic did you use to break the seal?"

“I just pulled it open."

Oanyu's ears stood up. “None of the magic was left? How long has it been?"

“There is a magical torch outside, but it has faded."

“How long have I been here?" repeated Oanyu.

Thyrm chose his words carefully. “I don't know. The temple complex is in ruins. The God War was so long ago, I'm not sure even the sages know exactly when it happened. A lot was lost then. You really don't know how long you've been here for?"

The large gnoll shook his head and turned away from Thyrm. He started walking toward the tree and Thyrm followed him, unsure of what to do. “No, not anymore. I tried to keep time, but there was a point time stopped having a meaning and I just waited. I see now that my wait has been in vain. The secrets I have protected mean nothing, for there is no one to speak them to." Oanyu put his hand on the trunk of the tree and bowed his head.

Thyrm waited, but the god did not speak again. He just stood there, letting the silence drag on. “Should I leave you be?" asked Thyrm finally. He wasn't sure if he'd just been dismissed or not.

Oanyu looked up. “No… I am not used to company. I forget you mortals have such short lives. Tell me, what stories do your people sing of my kin?"

“We do not sing of the gods anymore. We haven't for a long time."

Oanyu wiped his face with a broad paw, and Thyrm could see the fur on the back of his hand was wet. “I should not be surprised, but are we all forgotten?"

“The elves and dwarves still sing about their lost gods, but we gnolls do not. The sages keep records, but the stories are not read by many."

“Did none come back from the shining realm?"

He took a deep breath. “The stories say they went to fight. They say a few came back, but the power of the survivors faded quickly, and they went to the afterlife. All the gods are now dead, and we have been left on our own."

Oanyu looked at the tree and then back to the door. “I can feel the truth in your words. I am the last then." He traced a paw along the bark of the tree, considering. “You wield magic, don't you? I can smell it on you."

“I do."

“Are there many mortals who can control magic now?"

“It's not common, but great mages and druids walk the land now."

“Then it makes sense why they left me."

Thyrm was curious. “What do you mean?"

“I am the god of the dawn and beginnings. When the world was young, I gave the sun the power to rise. I am the guardian of springs and sacred groves. I planted the sacred trees that formed the basis of the first temples, and I nourished them with my tears. I helped bring magic into the world, and without me, those seeds would have faded before they were strong enough to grow for themselves. Before the war, my fellow gods held onto magic for it was precious to them. Without them, it has flowed to the people, and with that the responsibility for the world."

Thyrm had spent enough time tending the trees in the sacred groves to understand the truth in Oanyu's words. As an acolyte, he had spent time maintaining his order's shrine. “Then what does that leave you?"

The god sighed. “I'm not sure there is anything left for me to do. The world continues without my kin and the other gods." He wiped his eyes again, and his voice cracked as he continued. “The world has grown up, and my time has passed. It was said the gods would eventually fade away, that the people would eventually be strong enough to stand together on their own, but not all wanted to see that. The God War may have been the way of bringing that about. My sister Aranya always was a sneaky one. She controlled the forces of chance and fate. She knew things the rest of us didn't. This may have been the best course she could see. I just wish I had been wise enough to say goodbye before they all left."

Thyrm could see the god was upset, and he could think of nothing to say, so he did what he did to anyone who needed comfort. He tried to hug Oanyu, even though he couldn't get his arms around him.

It was comical seeing the gnoll hugging the god around his navel, but the god only stiffened at first before he sagged. “Thank you, my child," said Oanyu, tears dripping down his face. “It has been a long vigil held in vain."

All Thyrm could do was hold the god and let him cry, and cry Oanyu did as the smaller gnoll held him. The god cried for almost an hour, big tears for the lost gods. When he was done, he was barely taller than Thyrm. The smaller gnoll was so wet from the god's tears, he had to shake out his pelt as if he'd gone swimming.

The druid brought the god out of the forest and took him to his order. They quickly realized Oanyu had given the last of his powers to weep for his lost friends. There was no more godstuff left in him. The great reserves of magic he once had were gone, his immortality lost.

A mere mortal now, there was little he could teach the sages about magic they did not already know, but he had detailed knowledge about the history of the Old Gods. The sages diligently recorded his stories, and from it the true scope of the God War finally became known. Oanyu's stories are how the Old Gods can again be remembered. It was also a new beginning for the world, one that was not at first obvious to anyone, including Oanyu.

While he only lived another forty years and died a mortal, Oanyu was well-loved by those who knew him. Thyrm came to spend quite a bit of time with him and came to treasure the mortal god's company deeply. There was also something about his great cry that awoke something Oanyu did not realize he could do. The river of emotion he gave that day, and the loss of his powers, gave birth to a new generation of gods who arose just before he died. They thanked their creator profusely, and still sing of him even today. They were different from the Old Gods because they did not come to rule over the world, but to watch and nurture it. The old gods had hoarded their powers, and in the end, fate had taken it away from them so that new, more benevolent gods could come.