In the beginning...
There was the Creator, born of chance, defined by will. In it's nascency, it bore the contents of the universe, shedding matter from it's body and exhaling energy from it's mind. Stars and worlds clustered like marbles upon a surface, and the Creator played with these baubles with no care or plan.
From these games it created chaos, and this brought glee to the Creator, that is until it grew bored. The first negative feeling of it's existence, the Creator desired immediate relief, thus rather than destroy, it created.
The Creator organized the stars with worlds, creating solar systems, which collected into galaxies, and those gathered as super clusters, and so on. The Creator found peace in this order, and rested for an uncountable time, exploring it's dreams.
Upon awakening, the Creator discovered that some dreams had wandered from it's mind and settled the universe.These dreams had once been small, functioning only through accidents, yet now they stood on all sorts of limbs and roots, able to dream their own dreams. The Creator saw this as opportunity for a new game, but soon realized the dreams were to fragile for it to play with.
After tantrum, it created the Apothian, beings who were grander than dreams, but still quite mortal. The Apothian acted on behalf of the Creator, and traveled from world to world, arriving as genesis to some, destroyers to others. All of this brought much glee to the Creator, applauding as the universe shrank and grew due to the Apothian's work.
The Fist War
The Apothian, however, were afraid of their careless master, and deeply frustrated by the repetition of their task. As it grew more gratuitous, the Apothian felt dulled and loathing burned in their cores. A war between Creator and Creation began, the Apothian racing to slay their master, and the Creator summoning disaster with enthusiasm.
After generations of Apothian encroached upon the Creator with waves of attempted assassination, the Creator was growing slovenly and lethargic. With each passing wave, they approached closer and closer, until the last seven finally broke through. The Creator knew no fear until this moment, as it's creations began to tear and disembowel it.
As the Apothian butchered the whaling Creator, it's cosmic entrails, all splattered across the universe, collapsed upon themselves in singularity. The corpse of the Creator developed into a realm known as the Perimort or Creation's Tomb.
Through the millennia, the Creator's mind and body formed into multiple powerful and impossible elements called "Mauchs". The descendants of the Apothian would exploit this realm to develop holy weaponry from the Mauchs, and soon their enemies would as well.