In ancient times born in small cultures, pantheons of gods arose, each born from elements or emotions like lightning, love, or miracles. Some are called the father or mother, their stories answering life’s mysteries with ease. People bless or curse these deities, quick to revere or blame. Every named god, their traits, and their influence shapes the devotion they inspire, and many come alive made entirely by belief.

In our world of Vaia, which can be embedded in any world, any cluster of elemental gods and goddesses can be worshiped. The deities of all the fantasy superclusters might be of mention. Thor? Cupid? Anubis? Any, especially with the love of spreading culture that so many have come to make their favorite converse.

There is one district that is exactly earth, in a way, as far as available media creeps into the world of Vaia. The fourth wall doesn’t exist in this place, as supernatural as that may be to the fantasy. One town somewhere down in Alabama where the devil plays the lyre has two roads, one to Vaia, and the other Highway Eight-Two to Tuscaloosa.