Chapter #8Tyrians/Necrontyr/Chronotyr/Automatyr/Impostyr by: Yote   "God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent?"
- His Divine Materials, Volume VII
The Tyrians of old were human, though history has painted them with such grandeur that they often have been beyond human - a conceit that they themselves fell to and which was to be their undoing. They created what is still seen to this day as the model for a lawful, learned society. With their vast, calculating intellects they mastered everything they set their minds to - their understanding of magic, mathematics and metallurgy unequaled even in the centuries since their dissolution. Their Artificers created devices of such fabulous intricacy that still stand as wonders to this day.
The most well known of their creations were the Automata. These clockwork golems performed all manual labour in their empire(allowing their creators to commit themselves to mental pursuits); enforced laws equally and absolutely among all citizens, and defended their borders from jealous rival states, of which there were many. Many of these Automata still defend Tyrian relics and ruins after centuries despite the efforts of salvages to steal and reprogrammed them to serve new masters.
For all their power and knowledge, the Tyrians remained envious and greedy for more, until they even sought to claim the secrets of godhood itself. Luring their patron deity, Tyr, from the heavens, they struck him down, believing that through the dissection of his corpse they might learn the science behind the spark of the divine.
Yet a god does not die easily. Tyr suffered beneath their scalpels for seven days as their greatest scientists and arcanists took him apart piece-by-agonising-piece. On the final day, his defiled body finally gave out and rose again within the Graveyard of the Gods as a grim, undead revenant. The twisted god lay claim to the souls of all Tyrians and their descendants, to be trapped and tortured in his realm for all eternity upon their deaths.
The notes of the dissection were written within seven volumes, His Divine Materials, detailing each day's findings as well as a describing the scholars' descent into madness. They are among the most profane books ever written and merely to touch them is said to forfeit ones' soul to Tyr.
The complete disintegration of the Tyrian Empire came swiftly, over just a few decades, as the population fell into morbid despair. Their wealth was frittered away on offerings to Tyr and vast necropoli built to appease him, to no avail. Realising themselves to be irredeemably damned, the people split into ever more desperate factions, each with its own promise for escaping eternal damnation.
The Necrontyr
With what little they had gleaned from the dissection of the dead god, the faction that became known as the Necrontyr imbued themselves with necromantic energy so that their souls would be sealed within their bodies upon death. While it saved them from Tyr, it also permanently denied them any afterlife at all. The Necrontyr now shuffle about the ruins of their empire within their rotting shells, attacking any who come close.
The Chronotyr
"How do you do, fellow kids?"
A second faction sought to avoid death entirely by reversing life itself. Again, their experiments were only partially successful. The Chronotyr are born old. As time goes on, these toothless old men and women age backwards, becoming young adults, children, and finally newborns, before being unbirthed. It is unclear what becomes of their souls after their unbirthing, though they do not arrive at the realm of Tyr.
The few Chronotyr that exist live in human lands. They tend to hide their heritage, lest they be shunned (no family would ever knowingly contaminate their bloodline with the Tyrian's curse). Except for a sweet spot around middle age, fitting in is quite a challenge, as they come across as either very immature elders, or suspiciously world-weary youths.
The Automatyr
Seeing the living death of the Necrontyr as no better than the torture of the afterlife, the faction that came to be the Automatyr transplanted their souls into the clockwork minds of their own golems. While certainly succesful at avoiding death (so long as their inanimate bodies are maintained), the fusion of mind and machine was not always a comfortable one. Many Automatyr found themselves still bound to the last instructions given to their machine bodies, or forced to obey the commands of any new master.
Realising that these trapped, obedient souls could be ordered to divulge the secrets of the once powerful civilization, the Automatyr were hunted and rounded up as prized artifacts by collectors. To avoid this fate, many hid their true natures. When you meet an Automata in the street, you may wonder if what looks out at you from that ceramic mask is more than mere machine intelligence.
The Impostyr
The Impostyr are a faction that have spread far and wide, secreting themselves into all races and cultures. Their aim is to hide themselves from their god, so that upon death he will not know to claim them, and will be free to venture on to the afterlife.
When an Impostyr is born, the truth of their heritage is concealed as quickly as possible. Many of their methods are severe, including disfiguring the face and mutilating the body into an unrecognisable form. As they mature, Impostyrs are taught the history of their heritage and their curse, and the grave importance to always keep it hidden. They fabricate new identities, while further altering and augmenting their bodies with surgical techniques and grafts, imbuing themselves with the humors of inhuman races, or using magic to change completely, though even that is not enough to break the curse. They keep moving, always changing, even becoming other races to throw off the scent of their bloodline.
There are those that still kindle the embers of hope that one day a hero will break their curse and allow them to reclaim their bodies and lands, though it would take the power of a god.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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