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Description

Down in Hell, you're able to find a wide and diverse casts of sentience from all types of cultures from across the three Kingdoms. One such creature you'll find in abundance of, here down below, is the lesser devil known as the Imp. However, there is such a tale that is told from the oldest living Imp, repeated down to the very youngest in hushed whispers, dating back to a time before Lucifer, when Hell was just simply the underground below what would become the Kingdom of Man.

This Tale goes as such:

When God had begun to take upon the duty of creating the universe, he had delegated certain tasks to those under him. One such being was Gaia, who was given the task of cultivating a singular planet to which Man would settle and thrive. Accepting this charge, Gaia gave herself the title of Mother Nature, and set out to work in creating the mountains, the trees, and the fields that cover our planet today, as well as creating life to which Humans would interact with. With a shake of her body, seeds fell from her body and took root, sprouting forth young scions who would aid her in her tasks. These were known as Impa. One such Impa is the focus of this story, who was given a singular task, to watch over a flock of four legged animals. In the day, they would be lead out to pasture, and observed to make sure they graze. At Night, they would be lead back to their hovel, and locked up for safety. This Impa did so with great furvor, growing attached to these creatures for their weird little protrusions on their head.

However, as days passed, the young scion had begun to feel strange. Every night, as they had left their flock, they waited outside for the sun to rise, and every night, cold as they were, they remained, but alone they did so. This feeling started to well up inside their chest, until one day they simply couldn't take it anymore, this pain inside their body, this loneliness they had not known before. That night, they wandered into the hovel, and took one of the flock outside. Waking it, they had begun to play, and for several nights this went unnoticed by Mother Gaia. When upon checking in one night on the young scion's duty. They had noticed that one of the flock was missing. She saw that the Impa had been resting outside with it. This angered her. She had demanded to know why one of her own would disobey her. Unable to understand the young scion's words, she had decided to punish them both, and in swift action, smited them, wiping them off the face of the earth, and sending them deep, deep below into the darkness.

Underground, the young scion was alone, and that pain inside their chest begun to fill. They had begun to wander in the darkness, crying out for their friend, crying out to Mother Gaia for forgiveness, crying out to understand why this had all happened. They were alone. They were so very, very alone. And for many millenia, they remained as such, walking around in the darkness, dropping seeds in their wake to map out where they had been. As time went on, they had watched as many had come and go take the place and charge of taking care of the Underground, but they never once showed themselves out of fear. They kept to that darkness, still walking, still searching for their friend. It is said that what had stopped them, was time. That they had given up, and fell to their knees. Their body exhausted, and badly burned from the burning ground they had fell into times before. Lost, and alone, the Impa finally closed their eyes, unable to reopen them, for that feeling in their chest was overtaking them. Until finally, they had felt upon their charred skin, the creature they had been searching for, and with their last ounces of life in their body, they wept, their body burning up from the love that was still inside their breast. From those tears, they gave life to the seedlings that had taken root in this place deep underground. From those seeds, sprouted us.

It is for this reason that we, the Imps, had existed before Lucifer.
It is for this reason that we, the Imps, have tails, for they were once our roots, and horns, for they were once branches of that ancient Impa.
It is for this reason that we, the Imps, live in hives. So that none of us may ever feel alone again.
It is for this reason that we, the Imps, with goats and coal, celebrate the March of the Imps.

Though despite their name being lost to time, we do not forget the Furtive Impa.
For as thanks, we give them a new name.
Charcoal

Art and Lore by

Description

Down in Hell, you're able to find a wide and diverse casts of sentience from all types of cultures from across the three Kingdoms. One such creature you'll find in abundance of, here down below, is the lesser devil known as the Imp. However, there is such a tale that is told from the oldest living Imp, repeated down to the very youngest in hushed whispers, dating back to a time before Lucifer, when Hell was just simply the underground below what would become the Kingdom of Man.

This Tale goes as such:

When God had begun to take upon the duty of creating the universe, he had delegated certain tasks to those under him. One such being was Gaia, who was given the task of cultivating a singular planet to which Man would settle and thrive. Accepting this charge, Gaia gave herself the title of Mother Nature, and set out to work in creating the mountains, the trees, and the fields that cover our planet today, as well as creating life to which Humans would interact with. With a shake of her body, seeds fell from her body and took root, sprouting forth young scions who would aid her in her tasks. These were known as Impa. One such Impa is the focus of this story, who was given a singular task, to watch over a flock of four legged animals. In the day, they would be lead out to pasture, and observed to make sure they graze. At Night, they would be lead back to their hovel, and locked up for safety. This Impa did so with great furvor, growing attached to these creatures for their weird little protrusions on their head.

However, as days passed, the young scion had begun to feel strange. Every night, as they had left their flock, they waited outside for the sun to rise, and every night, cold as they were, they remained, but alone they did so. This feeling started to well up inside their chest, until one day they simply couldn't take it anymore, this pain inside their body, this loneliness they had not known before. That night, they wandered into the hovel, and took one of the flock outside. Waking it, they had begun to play, and for several nights this went unnoticed by Mother Gaia. When upon checking in one night on the young scion's duty. They had noticed that one of the flock was missing. She saw that the Impa had been resting outside with it. This angered her. She had demanded to know why one of her own would disobey her. Unable to understand the young scion's words, she had decided to punish them both, and in swift action, smited them, wiping them off the face of the earth, and sending them deep, deep below into the darkness.

Underground, the young scion was alone, and that pain inside their chest begun to fill. They had begun to wander in the darkness, crying out for their friend, crying out to Mother Gaia for forgiveness, crying out to understand why this had all happened. They were alone. They were so very, very alone. And for many millenia, they remained as such, walking around in the darkness, dropping seeds in their wake to map out where they had been. As time went on, they had watched as many had come and go take the place and charge of taking care of the Underground, but they never once showed themselves out of fear. They kept to that darkness, still walking, still searching for their friend. It is said that what had stopped them, was time. That they had given up, and fell to their knees. Their body exhausted, and badly burned from the burning ground they had fell into times before. Lost, and alone, the Impa finally closed their eyes, unable to reopen them, for that feeling in their chest was overtaking them. Until finally, they had felt upon their charred skin, the creature they had been searching for, and with their last ounces of life in their body, they wept, their body burning up from the love that was still inside their breast. From those tears, they gave life to the seedlings that had taken root in this place deep underground. From those seeds, sprouted us.

It is for this reason that we, the Imps, had existed before Lucifer.
It is for this reason that we, the Imps, have tails, for they were once our roots, and horns, for they were once branches of that ancient Impa.
It is for this reason that we, the Imps, live in hives. So that none of us may ever feel alone again.
It is for this reason that we, the Imps, with goats and coal, celebrate the March of the Imps.

Though despite their name being lost to time, we do not forget the Furtive Impa.
For as thanks, we give them a new name.
Charcoal

Art and Lore by