Toloch was walking through the woods, a beautiful day of early spring. Two sparrows had decided to use his red mane as a resting spot, looking around and chirping happily. Toloch didn't care - he'd told them to not "lay waste" to his hair, and they'd promised to fly away if they needed to do business. And so, Toloch took deep breaths, savouring all the smells of spring. He had been walking since dawn, and noon was approaching. Toloch was at peace, but something was tugging him forward. He felt like a drop of water soaked up by the root of a tree, and was being drawn along the root to its stem, to rise and dance in the canopy. He knew that even in the woods, he should have felt some form of fatigue (even if it was just a small thirst or a craving for lunch) after having walked for a quarter of a day, but he felt nothing. He felt as fresh as when he took the first step, as if it was not his own energy that drove him forward, but something else's.

With these thoughts in mind, Toloch kept walking for a few minutes still. Then, in a small clearing in the woods, atop a small hill, he saw an archway. It was carved out of white marble, though with just a hint of natural decay, lending it a muted, serene smoothness. Along its pillars were slung what appeared to be vines, but on closer inspection proved to be only intertwined roses. Toloch, sensing a benign blessing, picked one of the flowers and tucked it in his belt. Another rose immediately sprouted in its place. The birds chirped a casual see ya! and flew off, leaving Toloch staring into the apparently empty archway. He took a single ponderous step, and the world around him changed.

Toloch found himself on a stairway, a seemingly endless cascade of jade steps reaching into an eternal void. Toloch felt no despair. He had heard the tales, and even this void was filled with something - the promise of life and plenty. Toloch began his ascension, remembering the drop of water being drawn to the canopy of a tree, step by step. With each new step, he saw strange things. He heard the echoing laughter of children, like he was used to hearing back home, with his tribesfolk. Images of small children, playing at being animals, shuffling around and laughing. A small group of the playing children turned and looked him in the eye with a smile, and with a pang, Toloch realised they were his own. An image of what could have been, had he stayed with his tribe - children he never had the chance to sire. The display brought unknown feelings to Toloch. He had never been one to indulge in fantasies of sex, romance, or marriage - he was not unfamiliar with the practise, but to him it was something secondary. Now, however, he felt the overwhelming urge to find himself a mate to settle down with. To create new life with.

Toloch kept walking for a long time, troubled by this realisation. Each step up the stairs was a new image, each more enticing than the last. But then, just as Toloch was ready to turn around, he saw himself surrounded by tropical vegetation, lit by glittering crystals and the blessing of the deep earth, and his normal serenity came back to him. He took in a breath of the foresty air, and felt himself get in touch with root and limb of the surrounding land. Yes, his purpose was clear now. He was still young - siring children would come, he had always known that, but not yet. He found a few scarce berries and fruits to feed on, then sped through the jungle. His senses and instinct told him where to go. Where to step, when to leap, which routes would tak him safely through. He made better time than a normal man his size had any right to make, and reached a fountain by the midpoint in what felt like mere minutes. There, he drank his fill before pressing on. The vegetation of the jungle slapped lazily at his thighs, chest, and face as his massive body charged through the forest, sparse wildlife clamouring to get out of the bear-man's way. It was not long before he reached the end of the caverns, a lazy splash of water and the light crunch of salt under his feet.

Upon reaching the salt flats, Toloch looked down upon his reflection. He contemplated it for a moment. He was a large man, easily seven feet, wired with heavy muscle. His simple garment of robe, cuirass and cloak seemed both humble and unassuming, and brooding and barbaric at the same time. Much like the man himself. His heavy-set face, lined with his red moustache and flowing red locks, only further accentuated this. Toloch smiled to himself, once again thinking about how very appropriate his appearance was.

The salt flats were, Toloch soon came to learn, easily conquered. They seemed to go on forever. However, that sensation from before, of being drawn to the canopy of a tree, was still tugging at him, urging him forward. Toloch now felt as thought he had come some distance along the stem, maybe even passing a limb or two. How long he had been on the move, he couldn't begin to tell - but progress was being made.

Toloch was in the middle of trying to figure out how long he had been marching for when the salt flats vanished, landing Toloch in the middle of vast fields and orchards, stretching on for miles on end. Here, Toloch thought, is a benchmark. I am closing in on the end now, he was thinking, now happy to stroll lazily across the land, running his hands through the crops grown, and lazily picking the vibrant and exotic fruits growing in the orchards. He felt as though he was dreaming, as if the universe itself had decided that bounty should no longer be hard to acquire, and that noone else need go hungry ever again. However, Toloch also felt a little sad, for while the endless fields and enourmous orchards held a serene beauty unlike any he had experienced, the wilderness now felt so very far away… As if nature no longer belonged to itself, but to Man, and that in their quest for perfection, Man had sculpted the world into something unliving, vibrant yet soulless. With these thoughts weighing heavy on his mind, Toloch barely even noticed when he reached another long flight of stairs.

As he trudged along the steps, Toloch was consumed by brooding and doubt. In his mind, the bear and the man in him were fighting. Men would destroy all natural, spontaneous, imperfect things, the bear argued, while the man in him insisted that the earth was worth shaping for the betterment of all. The battle raged for hours on end, until Toloch took a step upward only to find the stair had ended, making him stumble forward.

The path before him was pitch blackness, with no sound to help him. Toloch suddenly felt small and helpless, like a newborn babe. There was something else, too - warm, familiar, like a mother's embrace. This, in turn, creeped him out further, as he realised just how childlike he felt. But he pressed on, sensing his long journey was coming to an end. It did not take long before a sliver of light could be spotted ahead. Toloch kept walking, more frightened yet also more serene with each step - as if the fear couldn't quite keep up with his connection to the increasingly bountiful scene around him. The air here was rich with heat and moisture, making Toloch's garb heavy to carry, yet the change, the light, the richness of the life around him strengthened his every step, until he bagan running, running…

At once, Toloch stopped and viewed the scene before him in awe. Before him was a massive gorge with a river roaring at the bottom, a single beautifully carved bridge illuminated by flying lights that could only be fireflies spanned the gap directly infront of him. He took tentative steps over the bridge, and allowed himself to properly drink in his surrounding only when on the other side. Some distance in front of him stood a massive tree, growing it seemed right through a palace or mansion, surrounded by rolling plains lined at the ends with snowy peaks. Toloch saw the marge stone blocks marking the way to the temple.

Toloch took one step. Then another. Whatever wonders hid inside the tree-palace ahead, Toloch felt drawn to it, wishing above all else to dance in its canopy.

The love of a Mother is the strongest fiercest love of all. Her rage at the sight of her young being hurt is that of the eldest dragon on the tallest peak prepping to destroy the soon to be smoldering world below. The care she has will always be like her children are newborns so ever fragile. The love of a Mother is the greatest thing a person can ever feel except when a woman becomes a mother herself. It is the strongest power a woman possesses whether the child is hers or adopted into her brood. Her love is eternal. If it is corrupted she will be struck down into the very bottom circles of hell and punished for the pain she has caused.

Children are precious. They are the life the world gifts.

The Mother understands and knows.

There was a puzzled look on her face as she stood out on the bridge leading to her temple. The fine mahogany wood had been imagined from the very wood she had carved for her first child's crib. It was the finest memorial she could think to give her dead child. Her fingers scrolled across it as she felt its eternal smooth surface.

She had commited a grave sin but as the Tree told her, it was an accident. An accident that would come to haunt the Triune Goddess through all of her reign. Something that would decide how she dealt with all problems in life. It also gave her the resolve to deal with most things. The Mother had a strong look on that beautiful face but more than once she had broken down into tears as she fought back her own demons.

She was the face of hope for many of the people in Revaliir. They could never see her in a weakened state, she was hope. If hope broke what would they have? Angela knew this and so she hid by herself and only told those closest to her. Her lovers knew bits and pieces but only when they heard the agonizing screams and words from her sleep. Gods don't need to sleep, they don't need to even eat, but still Angela did these things to make sure she was grounded. She needed to be so she was one with the earth, so she was truly aligned with what Mortals dealt with.

The reflection of the snow topped mountains drifted onto those red and green eyes of her's as she watched and listened to the realm she had created. This safe haven was not everything she could create. Angela could create something larger than Revaliir but there was no need for it. To exercise her power in such a way was nothing but a waste and other things needed to be tended to. This space was enough and it was enough for the world. Poverty, hunger, and death could all be put off by this place. The Sundering Gardens threw those things out of balance upon entertaining this realm of life.

This was the Mother's Womb. The place where her children, both born and Revaliir, could grow and be safe. She would protect them and fight for them as long as they needed her. They would have her loving embrace for as long as they needed and she would never complain. That was the role of a mother and that was just the type of person Angela was.

The long silk dress around herself blew in the gentle breeze that came from the mountains. The light mist of the gorge dazzled her with dew upon her skin and long red locks. She wasn't oblivious to the man who had come into her temple. She wasn't oblivious to the pain in his eyes. A mother knew everything after all but she did not throw herself upon him and simply waited for his arrival.

Leaning against the railing she left her bare feet caress the bridge's floor. Finally when he came she seen him in a panic. He had been running as most did. Everyone rushed to be born, everyone. "Calm yourself young one, you are safe here." She lifted herself from the position she was in and stood straight as he came forward. "You are in the Mother's domain now and I won't allow anything to harm you. What you have seen is everything you could have. The strings of destiny are still shining bright with those options."

She moved her arm outwards and pointed it towards the large tree temple with a smile on her face. "You look tired my child, would you like to come in and take a rest?"