The creator of mortals, the Mother sought to protect her creations from the turmoil around them. With a seed in hand, plucked from Her own womb, She began to chant for seven days and seven nights, recording all of the knowledge of the natural world within the seed. During that time, the seedling grew rapidly, sprouting into a sapling, the roots growing between Her fingers, reaching into the ground. On the eighth day, She finally ceased Her chanting. The sapling had begun to grow golden, purple, and green leaves. Golden leaves represented the future, purple leaves represented the past, and green leaves represented the present. On the ninth day, the tree grew to an enormous size, larger than any tree on the island where it had been planted. Suddenly, it seemed as though the rest of the flora on the island had begun to thrive, and birds from all over came to nest in the tree. The reefs surrounding the island prospered, and all those living on the island were suddenly blessed with elongated life spans. She had planted the tree on the golden isles- the islands on which the Elfin lived. The three islands, each of them inhabited by the different races, sat isolated and protected from the rest of the world; even amidst raging wars outside, the golden isles had only ever known peace. So, she designated that the Elfin would protect the tree in case mortals brought war to this haven, and druids to be its caretakers. The druids were the first to practice magic that allowed them the ability to manipulate life auras, which later on meant they as protectors and caretakers of the Mother Tree were sought after even in non Elfin lands as healers. During the years that the Mother Tree sat on the golden isles, the Elfin were able to thrive and become the haven for magical practitioners and healers.
All of this changed when one day, a sapling fell from the Mother Tree.
Cantanite, the gift for the Grokon, was plucked straight from the Mother's mind. A tool for the world and the Grokon as the wielders of the tool. The knowledge of what the stones were used for has been lost to time. All we know now is the symphony.
For the Turuk, she gave warmth, industry, and sustenance. To them, their history is as alive in their minds as it was at the start. To them, the mother gifted fire. Some old ruins had art of ancient chiefs and shamen holding the Endless Ember. A piece of smoldering coal a bit larger than a heart, a piece of Her own. The Ember lights coal for forges, tinder for stoves, wood for warmth to keep the cold desert nights at bay enough for them to survive. The flame provides refuge. Home survives. No matter where they go to make their home they can craft weapons to defend it, cook meat to feed their children, and light the night against predators. The Turuk tend to build an elaborate elevated brazier as the home for the ember, in contrast to their traditional huts made of earth that stands as the hearth center where they gather to eat, to fight, to craft, and to praise the gods.
To humans the Mother gave water. Though they do not remember it was her own tears that filled their first well, as Humans are short lived and short sighted. They have from Her a Keystone with which when they build a well it provides. Passed down through the clergy is a ceremony, and for three days they pray. They dig the well as their sweat pouring into the earth is water returning to the source. Then they build with stone and the Keystone when put into place fills the well. Clean, cool water. Enough to fill your cups, bathe your children, provide for your herd, water a garden. Around the well springs a green sanctuary, an oasis of lush, flourishing earth. Humans tend to build their temples around this land they consider holy and touched by the Mother as there has in the past been harsh reprieve from the clergy for damage to the haven.
