Goddess of love, beauty, and spring, Lyra represents some of the undesirable qualities of passion as well, including broken marriages, uncontrollable lust and narcissism. As fickle as love itself, Lyra is still largely popular in Thrael, though she lacks a large following. She also oversees what are considered many other intensely feminine qualities, including families, the culinary arts, and the hearth. Her followers are often extremely devoted, virtually in love with their goddess. The upper clergy are routinely asked to perform marriage rites and weave spells of fertility around couples. However, competition within the temple is fierce, as Lyra's followers compete for her attention like suitors of a delicate virgin.
Lyra's Glorious Canon
Book One — Genesis
I.i. And it came to pass on a morning in Raine that the face of Solas was rising over the pool on the top of the world and saw his reflection, softened by the mists and mirrored in the dew and chose to linger. Wildflowers, warmed by his majesty, sprung up and still Solas sojourned there, admiring himself until Kel pushed him along, bringing Order to that place. Ng, despising the stability, created a blizzard that sent cold and snow plummeting down upon the tranquil pool, freezing Beade's soil, distorting the perfection... and 'twas out of this marriage of chaos and order that Lyra was born. Embracing all from the frozen flake to the soft flower, She who was Love bedecked the Entire with Her passionate kiss, accepting to Her bosom the deformed as well as the perfect.
I.ii. Born of Vanity, sired by Hate, She who reached her nativity through Manipulation and Obsession, the daughter of Revenge, fathered by distortion, empowered by Greed, nurtured by Love, mothered in security, nursed and abused... She is the child of the Heart and all its sphere.
Maerling the elder tells of how Lyra created the Haefdin
"Set with me for a while, young sprouts, while the fire soothes these old bones and I'll spin a tale fer ye."
"Yer bones ain't old, Great-grandmother!" piped up the oldest of the brood in attendance — Bepli, only ten and not quite two feet tall. He glared at his mother's mother's mother, as if challenging the venerable halfling to dispute her scion's faith.
"Aiee! Yer right about that, Little Be — I could still dance a step or two and play a mean game o' Tandra! Why, I remember the night of the Festival of Middlin', a dozen years back..."
"Tell us, Great-grandmother — please!" implored a chorus of voices.
But instead, the oldster held up her hand and shook her white head, the neat bun at the back of her neck and her ample jowls jostling amiably and chuckled at the youngsters' enthusiasm. "'Nother time, my little sprouts... ye will hear about that, all right. But tonight, ye will ha' a different kinda tale."
The old halfling settled into her soft chair, adjusting her well-padded form amid the worn cushions, pulling back the comforter on her left side, which faced the fire.
"Ya see, the story I'll be tell you now is one I had from my own Great-grandmother, when I was not much older than Medderee here." She ruffled the coppery curls of a beaming little girl. Medderee turned proudly to her siblings and cousins, preening herself, but their attention remained riveted on the seated figure of the matriarch.
"And it be me true hope," she continued, "that when one of you sets in this chair here — many, many years from now — ye will remember me words and share it with your own little sprouts."
"We will, Great-grandmother! We promise!" Eyes wide, faces serious, the young halflings pledged their attention. They already understood that, tonight, it was no ordinary story they would hear.
"Well 'twas abou' the time of the beginnings of the world, when the great goddesses 'twas making the races o' the world and the dragynkind roamed freely when me story took place," began the old halfling as she leaned back and took a long, satisfying drag from her pipe.
At the word, "dragyn", all the little boys squealed in pleasure and the girls hid their faces in their hands, peeking between the fingers as all eyes followed the old woman's movements.
Tamping the tobacco down in the pipe, she continued, "'Twas the ides of spring and Lyra the Maiden was watching from on high the shenanigans of the beings below on the surface of Thrael... watching and sighing."
"Why did she sigh, Great-grandmother, why was she not watching dragyns!" cheeped little Magaen, his four-year-old eyes wide and aglow with the excitement of the story.
"No dragyns this story, me little one, come up here on Granny's knee and hush while I continue," she said and every little eye watched jealously as Magaen climbed upon the well-upholstered lap.
"There! Betrice — be a dear child and fill my teacup. Surely thanks. Oh, and just a wee splash from the little bottle warming on the mantle to give it some character. Ahhh! Well done, lass."
"The story, Great-grandmother — tell us the story!" Eyes wide, the youngsters waited impatiently until the old halfling's tea was properly mixed. She sipped, and smacked her lips, and then began.
"Yes... the story. Lyra was sighing because she who was in love was lonely fer someone to adore herself and someone to adore her, chile," she said with a soft smile.
"Lonely and heartsick when suddenly it came to her. She got her best cooking pot. She added the most beautiful flowers in all the realms, the most tasty vegetables, tabaccy fit fer the gods themselves, a warm fire on a cold afternoon, the laughter of children, the grace of maidens, the strength of character of the most honest of men, her favorite games and riddles and toys, a good drizzle of fine golden ale made on a crisp fall day, then kissed the mixture gently and added a big dollop of love."
Smirking with that sideways grin he had, Trullo the nine-year-old, stuck his hands in his pockets and said, "A cookin' recipe? Awww Great-grandmother! We want dragyns or at least a troll or two or perhaps..."
Holding up her hand once more the oldster stopped him, "This is not any cooking recipe, bucko, be sure of it and hush."
The stares of his cronies stilled his tongue as she went on, "Lyra brought her brew to the top of the world, the same place that saw her own birth and went to sleep, her arms cradling the pot, lovingly. In the morn, Solas rose bright and seeing the pot sent down his bright warming rays, which heated the mixture and at the same time shrunk it. Making it smaller and condensed, if ya will."
"What is cadezed, Great-grandmother?", said Magaen, speaking over the thumb in his mouth, his hand busy winding the topknot of his hair around and around his finger.
"Condensed means to take out the water, but leave the brew strong and rich, chile," she answered with wink of her clouded blue eye.
"When Lyra awoke," she went on, "Something very special happened. Peeking over the top of the pot was the most wonderful thing in the world. Two pairs of brown eyes set in two faces made of skin of the warmest of tones, curly brown hair much like yers Trullo, and curly red like yers my little Medderee," laughed the old woman, "sat on the top of the heads and the insoles of the feet of two beings perfect in every way, yet more compact and clever, brave, kind-hearted and full of mischief. Best of all, they were just the right size.
"Kepli, the fire needs another log — Ah! there's a good lad," she injected.
The old matriarch stopped. There was a long, thoughtful pause as her audience considered the story. Unnoticed, Pedderee refilled the venerable halfling's empty cup. Finally Kepli broke the silence. "Great-grandmother? Was that us'ns?"
After taking another long, noisy sip of her newly poured tea, the woman spoke again, "Aye, laddie, that was us. Lyra helped the little'uns out of the pot, hugged them to her breast and said to them, 'Thy name shall be Haefdin and thee shalt only know joy and love.' And then she set them onto the..."
Pausing for a moment, the old woman looked long and hard at one of the children. Then said, "Pedderee, when your mother was a little girl she had those same curls dangling by her cheeks — she was my first granddaughter, you know, and I couldn't have been prouder! And you, Calkin — your dad was my second nephew on my brother Theadric's side. He had Theadric's stubborn jaw, and — if you don't mind me saying so — I see that same firm set of the chin in you!"
Whimpering softly, Calkin said, "The story, Great-grandmother, the story."
"Ohh, aye!" said the old one continuing, "she set them down onto the land and said, 'Unto you I make this pledge, my little ones, you shall be the parents of a great nation. And from this nation will split three tribes, each great unto themselves, and you will call them Haertoe, Potbelly and Longshadow. You will teach the world to laugh, for you shall know only happiness. Great trials will ye meet with the love I instilled in your hearts and with kith and kin, ye will survive, for family and hearth and home will go with ye wherever ye shalt roam.'"
"Tell us what happened to the little'uns, Great-grandmother, tell us where they went, if they saw dragyns... if they went over the Wide Sea, tell us how we came to be here in Briarbrook," implored little Tandy, only six and already sprouting thick curling hair on his feet, the envy of his older brother by one year, Maurel.
"That is a story for another day, laddie," said the old woman snuggling back as she pulled the cover on her lap higher.
Silence settled over the room, and the children wondered if the old halfling had fallen asleep — so comfortable did she seem, sunk in her chair by the fire. This time it was Pedderee who dared to ask the question.
"Great-grandmother... is it true that you yourself traveled the Wide Sea once... and even into the skies, and beyond?"
A twinkle of firelight reflected from half-opened eyes — eyes that gleamed with delightful memories.
"Aye, sprout... that I did. And a fine time I had of it, too! But that to is a story that'll have to wait for another time."
|Aliases||The Spring Maiden, Lady Love|
|Portfolio||Love, Passion, Romance, Courtship, Beauty, Spring, Vanity, Aesthetic Beauty, Flowers, The Floral Arts, The Hearth, Cooking, Cooks, The Culinary Arts, Banquets, Home, Domestic Pursuits, Hospitality, Marriages, Families, Promises, Ancestors, Relationships, Fidelity, Emotions, Emotional Release, Emotional Expression.|
|Central Themes||The Heart|
|Virtues||Pride, Love & Hate.|
|Sins||Lack of emotion, apathy.|
|Physical Avatar||A red heart|
|Symbol||A bleeding-heart flower encased in a snowflake|
|Animal Symbol||The Peacock|
|Material Affinity||Gold, Brass|
|Holy Book||Lyra's Glorious Canon|
|Tertiary Dominion||Right (truth)|
|Spell User Type||Pure|
|Spell Style||Uses strictly vedic effects.|
|Time of Day||6am - 8am|
|Month(s) of the Year||Ghust|
|Religious Holidays||Floribunda, Ghust 21st|
|Allies||Ghent, Jakob, Serene, Thine|
|Enemies||Aorre, Shaellis, Trost, Vaen|
Lesser Power of the Hearth, Cooking, Cooks, The Culinary Arts, Banquets, Home, Domestic Pursuits, Hospitality
Glaviul appears as a halfling female in her 100's.
Lesser Power of Emotions, Emotional Release, Emotional Expression
Quissal appears as a human teenager.
Lesser Power of Marriages, Families, Promises, Ancestors, Relationships, Fidelity
Femir appears as a halfling woman in her 80's.
Lesser Power of Love, Passion, Romance, Courtship
Krys appears as a human woman in her 30's.
Lesser Power of Beauty, Spring, Vanity, Aesthetic Beauty, Flowers, The Floral Arts
Guilanda appears as a nymph in her 20's.