MajinHotTuna
Acolyte
So, second post I'm doing since getting on Mythic Scribes. Let's talk about my story’s world.
(Excuse the way I write, I tend to go fast. Also, all of this is WIP.)
There’s a heavy H.P. Lovecraft influence in my story, with a bit of Aleister Crowley’s madness thrown in (hence the title: Thelema, the Society of Freaks).
There are two worlds: the waking world (Earth), and... well, not quite the Dreamlands (name still a work in progress).
On Earth, magick (yes, with a K—deliberate) has always been a thing. No one knows when it started, but five beings can use it: the planet Earth itself, marine mammals, arachnids, cats, and humans.
But unlike the others, humans—only a select few—can’t use magick while conscious. They have to be asleep. When they lucid dream, their bodies start to harness magick unconsciously, which bleeds into the world around them, usually in a negative way. These people started calling themselves Dreamers.
They were feared. Hunted. Branded as heretics, monsters, or cosmic accidents. Humanity did what it does best: tried to wipe out what it didn’t understand.
Everything changed when one Dreamer—the First—awoke within his own dream. Through pure willpower, he learned to channel magick while conscious. Wanting to save others like him—brothers, sisters, and those in-between (he was raised not to judge)—he dreamt of a place where Dreamers could be safe from the waking world.
That place became its own reality: the Dreamlands.
Over time, whole species of magick-bearing beings—cats, arachnids, marine mammals—started vanishing from the material world, drawn into this new realm. The Dreamlands grew into a massive, surreal world governed by the First’s will. But the act of creating it drained him. He fell into an eternal sleep somewhere in its vast cosmic landscape.
From his dreaming mind, something else was born: the Nameless Mist—a sentient veil that hides the Dreamlands from the physical universe. From that mist came another being, a keeper of time and space within the realm.
Some Dreamers, exploring too far, got too close to the Nameless Mist. It changed them. They came back… different. They named themselves the Outer Lords—self-declared custodians of the Dreamlands in the First’s absence. Under their rule, Dreamers flourished. They became inventors, explorers, and rulers. Over generations, many Dreamers evolved into entirely new species, each with their own unique take on magick.
But, like all power, it corrupted. Some of the Outer Lords got greedy. Civil war broke out as they fought to control the realm. Their servants—mortals they had empowered—rebelled, trying to bring back balance. These rebels became known as the Grand Elders.
Things looked bad for the Elders, until one Outer Lord defected: Shub-Niggurath. With Shub’s help—and the creation of powerful artefacts called Elder Relics—the Grand Elders turned the tide and drove the Lords into hiding.
But victory didn’t last.
Fearing how powerful Shub had become, the Grand Elders betrayed her. She fled into the waking world, taking with her a secret artefact greater than all the others.
That escape ripped holes in the Nameless Mist. Cracks where the Dreamlands and the waking world bleed into each other. During those rare overlaps, new Dreamers awaken… and slowly, the line between dream and reality starts to blur.
The Grand Elders are unaware.
The exiled Outer Lords are not.
(I know this is a lot. Most of this is copy-pasted from my story notes—I was in a rush, needed to pass time, and figured I’d share some lore. What do you think? Is there enough here to talk about, or too early to matter yet? Really, I hope I can talk to someone. Going three years without anyone to talk to about this has given me a lot of mind melts.
(Excuse the way I write, I tend to go fast. Also, all of this is WIP.)
There’s a heavy H.P. Lovecraft influence in my story, with a bit of Aleister Crowley’s madness thrown in (hence the title: Thelema, the Society of Freaks).
There are two worlds: the waking world (Earth), and... well, not quite the Dreamlands (name still a work in progress).
On Earth, magick (yes, with a K—deliberate) has always been a thing. No one knows when it started, but five beings can use it: the planet Earth itself, marine mammals, arachnids, cats, and humans.
But unlike the others, humans—only a select few—can’t use magick while conscious. They have to be asleep. When they lucid dream, their bodies start to harness magick unconsciously, which bleeds into the world around them, usually in a negative way. These people started calling themselves Dreamers.
They were feared. Hunted. Branded as heretics, monsters, or cosmic accidents. Humanity did what it does best: tried to wipe out what it didn’t understand.
Everything changed when one Dreamer—the First—awoke within his own dream. Through pure willpower, he learned to channel magick while conscious. Wanting to save others like him—brothers, sisters, and those in-between (he was raised not to judge)—he dreamt of a place where Dreamers could be safe from the waking world.
That place became its own reality: the Dreamlands.
Over time, whole species of magick-bearing beings—cats, arachnids, marine mammals—started vanishing from the material world, drawn into this new realm. The Dreamlands grew into a massive, surreal world governed by the First’s will. But the act of creating it drained him. He fell into an eternal sleep somewhere in its vast cosmic landscape.
From his dreaming mind, something else was born: the Nameless Mist—a sentient veil that hides the Dreamlands from the physical universe. From that mist came another being, a keeper of time and space within the realm.
Some Dreamers, exploring too far, got too close to the Nameless Mist. It changed them. They came back… different. They named themselves the Outer Lords—self-declared custodians of the Dreamlands in the First’s absence. Under their rule, Dreamers flourished. They became inventors, explorers, and rulers. Over generations, many Dreamers evolved into entirely new species, each with their own unique take on magick.
But, like all power, it corrupted. Some of the Outer Lords got greedy. Civil war broke out as they fought to control the realm. Their servants—mortals they had empowered—rebelled, trying to bring back balance. These rebels became known as the Grand Elders.
Things looked bad for the Elders, until one Outer Lord defected: Shub-Niggurath. With Shub’s help—and the creation of powerful artefacts called Elder Relics—the Grand Elders turned the tide and drove the Lords into hiding.
But victory didn’t last.
Fearing how powerful Shub had become, the Grand Elders betrayed her. She fled into the waking world, taking with her a secret artefact greater than all the others.
That escape ripped holes in the Nameless Mist. Cracks where the Dreamlands and the waking world bleed into each other. During those rare overlaps, new Dreamers awaken… and slowly, the line between dream and reality starts to blur.
The Grand Elders are unaware.
The exiled Outer Lords are not.
(I know this is a lot. Most of this is copy-pasted from my story notes—I was in a rush, needed to pass time, and figured I’d share some lore. What do you think? Is there enough here to talk about, or too early to matter yet? Really, I hope I can talk to someone. Going three years without anyone to talk to about this has given me a lot of mind melts.
Auror
Myth Weaver
