((OOC: This is a legend regarding the beginning of the mortal races as well as Death. It can be known by any though the link between my character and this tale is less likely unless one really gets to know my character. It is in the first person point of view of someone actually telling the story. Thank you and enjoy. Comments are welcome if PMed to me so as to not clutter things up in here. :smile: I may add other tales of the first son as i write them.))

This tale has been told to many a child by many a grandfather and father back into the depths of unrecorded time. On many a world and many a continent, it has been spoken of as the origin of mortals, of life, and of death. I tell it to you now to continue the tale, to never let it die. So that you can one day tell your children and grandchildren.

Amidst the first days of the world, the gods and goddesses decided that they wished to people the lands with creatures other than the birds and beasts they had already created. A race to entertain themselves, perhaps, with the strife and emotions that they would bear. In an effort to do this each god in rank created a race. Many a race was born but the very first were deemed special. In that time the gods kept their peoples and provided for them and the god that created the first made sure that they were well cared for.

The truth is long lost as to which race came first. Each race believes it was them that the highest god created first. It is vanity, mostly, that has warped the tale. Even my father's father's father's great great grandfather was not nearly old enough to know the truth. The names too have been lost to time, changed and then forgotten all together until they are called only what they were and not whom. It is possible that even the First Son himself does not remember the names, though i doubt that.

The first female and the first male loved one another as was intended and before long were married before a conclave of the gods and the other races. Nine months later, a day before the first female was to give birth, her creator, the highest god below the High God himself, came to her and told her that she would have twins but that the second would be stillborn.

One can only imagine the grief of a mother come to expect life to come from her womb when told that one of the two she bore would be dead. The god explained to her and to her husband that the High God had decreed that the first-born child would be a sign of Life. And the second, Death. That, though it was stillborn, the child would yet grow and "live" until his twenty-third year. The male and female were distraught but decided that they would love the living son no more than the dead.

The next day, the twins were born.

The first a baby girl, born to smile upon the world, came easily into the world from her mother's womb with a cry almost joyful. Golden locks the color of the sun's rays graced her small head. Her cheeks were already rosy and her blue eyes bright.

The second a little boy, born painfully and dead yet alive in a way the male and female could not understand, was a long and difficult birth. The boy did not cry or make a sound yet it was plain to see that it breathed. The woman cried and held the little boy close, her tears falling upon the thin black locks on his head. Black eyes watched her out of his pale skinned face without a cry.

That night, unbeknownst to the mother, father, or daughter, the High God Himself came to view the infant son that He had chosen. His voice echoed within the infant mind and changed things forever. "Yours in the womb was the first death among mortals and your sister's the first life. Forevermore Death shall haunt the worlds of mortals and gods, alike. And you, my chosen little one, shall always know when Death is coming and shall be Death's forbearer." He touched the babe upon the head and the child slept then He was gone.

And so the children grew. The mother, father, and daughter all loved the brother and he loved them in his way though he wasn't as able to show it. He was a reasonably happy child and played and learned as all of the children that were eventually born did but there was always a shadow upon him. As though he knew that he was different. Which he did. Though he knew he had pulse and life within him, he knew also that he was not of the living. His parents had not told him of the happenings of the day before his birth or the day that he was born nor did he tell them of his memory of the first night. Because he did remember. Every day of his life was remembered from that very first night on.

The children soon grew and the now young man was taught to hunt only to find that he could not. He could take life when he had to in order to survive but always he felt the deaths of the animals. The feeling he had known since the second day of his life took on more meaning than it had before. Death came to all life.

The daughter too grew. A beautiful young woman, her long blonde hair falling unbound to her waist. Bright blue eyes saw all the beauty of the world and rejoiced in it. The son loved his sister and watched over her as well as he could. In her, he saw all that was missing in him.

Soon they grew to maturity. The first male and first female had borne other children, as had the other races. The elder children aided the parents in caring for the younger. The first daughter's especial joy was watching over the infants and caring for them. The first son was never as able. The children were instinctively quiet around him, which was often a blessing, but they also feared him and it brought a sadness into the depths of his heart where none but himself could see or feel. As he grew towards his twenty-third year, he withdrew more and more with each sadness that his difference brought upon him.

The day of the first children's twenty-third birthday soon came and the mother and father watched their son with especial care that day but there was no apparent change in him. The next they took the two to the river for a birthday feast shared only among the four of them. The mother and father were smiling and gay thinking that the High God, in his great concerns, had perhaps forgotten their son.

The daughter walked along the river back and forth, tossing the occasional stone into the water just to hear the sound of the splash of water. She sang as she walked. Then the three heard a sound that pierced their hearts and had each of them on their feet and rushing for the water. The scream of the daughter and a splash. A stone beneath her foot had slipped and she had plunged into the water where the river grabbed hold. The god of the river tried to stop it but something barred his control. The river dragged her under, spun her, and dashed her upon hidden rocks.

The son dove in after his sister as the mother and father ran along the banks, trying to keep her in sight. He swam for all that he was worth; his eyes open in the water to search for the sight of her form. At last her spotted her and soon was able to grab hold of her limp hand and pull her to him. He struck out then for the surface broke free of the water's hold to take a deep breath of the free air but there was no like sound from the sister in his arms.

Hurrying as much as he could, he swam for the shore and for his parents. Reaching it, he pulled his sister out onto the dry ground. Then tried to breath air into her starved lungs and bring warmth into her cold wet form but the brother soon felt Death come in a way he never had before. Tears flooded his eyes and he hugged the body of his sister close to him. Dimly he felt both parents put their arms around their children and heard their sobs and he understood that they were not only crying for the daughter dead among them but also the son born dead in a way they did not understand.

Now some of you may wonder why the girl who was Life was killed. All life comes to an end and that is what had to be shown, I'm afraid. That Death comes for all.

They buried her the next day in a gown of spun sunlight and moonbeams that was a gift of a goddess. Around her neck and wrists they placed necklaces and bracelets of sapphires from the god of the rivers, whose grief was great that he had not been able to save her. All of the firsts of the races came to bid her farewell and then they feasted in her memory for seven days and seven nights before returning to their homes. The son visited the grave one more time after all had departed then he left without a word.

The High God came to him later that day. His only action was a nod then they both vanished from the world.

But, that is not the end of the first son's story. No, he still walks all of the worlds and in his footsteps comes Death. He still lives his un-life, his heart ever beating and his lungs breathing. He never lived so he cannot die.

They say also that the High God gave him abilities to aid him in his journeys. Wings of a Raven for flight, a sword for fight, and a control over magic for his use, though each gift came also with a curse for balance. The Raven would always be a symbol of death, feared by some and revered by others. With the sword, he could call upon Death and end lives yet its creation brought the idea into the minds of the races and caused the beginnings for war and strife. And with magic came each of its kinds from divine to necromantic.

And so, the first son still walks the worlds bringing Death yet also the memory of Life for it is said that his greatest sadness lies in his memories of his sister. And also that still he remembers every day of his life, as he did from that first night. So that no person who dies is ever truly forgotten. So that each person has an immortality of their own.

I know what you are thinking now. There are too many people who die every day for him to see and remember every one. This is true, in a way, but he is not bound by the mortal coil, nor by even time or space. He can be everywhere and nowhere all at one time. He can be watching a war on one world and be standing with an old man dying peacefully in his sleep in a hospital on another world. And he does remember every person, in a way though perhaps not by name or sight. He grieves for every death.

Over the years, it is said, he has forgotten how to feel the emotions of the mortal races. Yet some say quite the opposite. That he still feels deeply each joy and also each pain of sadness and grief but that he merely is no longer able to show it with mortal ease. This is the one that I chose to believe. Not that he is unaffected but only that he has been effected so much and so often that he now hides the effects from the world. Keeps himself from getting too close only to be hurt again. I am sure that you can understand how that could be but I leave it for you to decide that which you believe. I like to believe that when all who knew me are dead and gone, there will still be someone out there who grieves for me.

All right now, the tale is ended. No, I will save other tales of the first son for other days. It is time for you all to go. Be well, my children, and May the first son not come visit you any time soon.

So you wish another story of the First Son this evening, my little ones" I believe I can oblige you perfectly well with the tale of him and his stopping of Death itself.

This was some centuries after he lost his wife and son, the First Son had almost completely closed off his emotions. Too much pain. Too much grief. He did, though, continue to speak to people. To make some friends though he never let them close. At least not willingly.

One day he met an elf, they say, and the two became fast friends though the elf did not know who the First Son truly was. By then, the legend had faded even more, the name and race lost to all save the very oldest who people forgot to ask. No, I am not one of those. I may look old but compared to them, I would be as young as you, my children. Yes, laugh, but I was as young as you are and you will one day be as old as me, gods willing.

So, the First Son and his friend traveled together. The First Son taught the elf how to wield a sword and the elf showed him some tricks with a bow. They adventured, seeking gold and glory, ostensibly, though the First Son was really only enjoying himself for the first time in many years. His friend often teased him about his serious demeanor and often managed to get a smile or even a laugh out of him. The First Son was glad for this sigh that he still could do so; he did it so rarely.

One day as they were fighting, the elf was mortally wounded. The First Son was able to defeat the creature that they had been battling and hurried to his friend's side to assess his injuries. He could feel Death approaching and dug hurriedly through his pack, trying to find one of their healing potions. Death arrived and in desperation, the First Son faced him and asked him to stop, saying that it was not his friend's time.

Death looked at his harbinger and spoke in a voice as cold as the grave. "You have one hour before my touch will hold sway. One hour and one hour only. I will not stop again. This is a power I grant to you, my harbinger, and to you alone." Death held out to him a black stemmed, black leaved, black rose and the First Son took it from him. "This I give to you as a sign. Create them as you will and each shall be linked to you. They shall not fade or wither so long as you are strong.? There was more, it is said. More that spoke of how to use the Death Rose of the Harbinger. But, as with so many things, it has been omitted and lost. Likely for the sake of protecting that fact. Perhaps even Death himself worked to remove the knowledge from all save the First Son himself and those he has told.

The First Son then took the rose and used it on his friend. The story goes that the friend was placed in a sort of time lock. A separation of himself from the world and the passing time. He was not fully alive but then, neither was he dead. Yet. The First Son understood what Death had said about him having a time limit and he quickly found the vial with the healing potion. Moving the form of his friend as though he were a doll, the First Son got him to drink the potion and he watched the magic of it heal the wound. At the end of the hour, his friend awoke and the First Son felt the presence of Death fade then vanish. His friend would live on. It is said that the black rose turned red and green after Death left. A sign that the power in it had been used for its purpose.

The First Son was more than thankful though he knew that the gift and ability had to be used wisely and carefully. It was no small thing to be able to stop Death, even for an hour.

It is also said that the elf dreamed of the First Son, in that hour while he slept, oblivious to the world and time. He dreamed of his friend in a feathered cloak then the cloak enwrapping his friend and turning him into a raven. The raven is a symbol of the coming of Death. It is also the symbol of the First Son himself because of that. Some say that the First Son can change into a raven, larger and more beautiful than any other such bird. Whether or not this is true, I could not say.

The First Son and the elf continued on together then. And continued to be friends up until the end of the elf's natural life. He told the elf eventually of who he was and why he did not age. The elf felt the honor of being a friend to the First and never made the First Son regret his choice of keeping him alive that one time.

Now it is time for you all to get home. Yes, you will hear more soon, I promise. Be good, grandchildren.