For thousands of years, debate has raged as to the location, description, even the very existence of the legendary city of Atlantis. Although interest has waxed and waned over the centuries, humanity has dedicated thousands of hours, spent millions of dollars and, in some cases, risked-and lost-human lives, all in the pursuit of this mythic location that many claim never even existed. Although the search for the island-nation has occupied lifetimes of research, at no time has the investigation been more vital than the present. What has, in the past, been a matter of curiosity, could now be the key to preventing the end of the World.
While the Atlantean Gods have been missing, presumed dead or corrupted beyond recognition millennia ago, there is power in belief. Should the truth of their former existence come into common knowledge, it is possible (if unlikely) that this belief might renew them, allowing the pantheon to spring into existence once more.
Amnis AKA: N/A
As the wife of Badarus, Amnis was the Goddess of the waters that flowed upon their homeland. Her bounty merged with her husband’s at the deltas where Atlantis’ rivers met the sea, a popular place for temples to the pair to be built. Reportedly the mother of the rest of the pantheon, Amnis was worshiped at springs and along riverbanks, where Atlantean couples who sought her fertile blessings would consummate their relationships in the hopes of having strong and healthy children. She was also considered to be the patron of cleansing, medical herbs and supernatural healing.
Amnis is most often depicted as a short, curvaceous woman, with wide hips, often shown giving birth to a flowing river. Scions of Amnis fulfilled many roles in Atlantean society, from teacher to midwife to healer. While Badarus might have discovered all manner of things abroad, Amnis held the wisdom that kept her people safe, healthy and well fed enough to venture beyond the horizon, and there was quite a good-natured rivalry between the two of them as to who was truly the more wise.
The few depictions that remain of Badarus portray him as a venerable older man who is serpentine or fish-like from the waist down. Hes often shown holding a fish or a ship in one hand, and gesturing out and away with the other, as if sending his people out to explore. As the patriarch of the Atlantean pantheon, he encouraged his people especially his Scions to discover new territories, to venture beyond the abundant waters that ringed their island nation, seek new shores and learn new lessons. Badarus had an estranged, but apparently happy, marriage to the Atlantean Goddess of the home waters, Amnis.
Scions of Badarus were among the civilization’s greatest explorers, visiting the four corners of the map in a desire to see and experience everything possible. They fancied themselves masters of “what lay beyond the horizon,” although unlike some humans, they felt no need to retain or destroy what they had discovered. Simply discovering something was, to Scions of Badarus, its own form of triumph.
Mysterious sister-wife of Kuros, Demosia almost never interacted with Atlantis directly, though she reportedly saw everything that happened in the depths of night or darkness. Hers was the realm of whispers, secret thoughts and clandestine meetings, and what she learned, she shared only with her husband, Kuros. Elaborate temples to Demosia were built in mountaintop clearings, and those who had problems or guilt often would go on pilgrimage to confess them to the ever-listening but never speaking Scions of this moon Goddess.
Demosia was thought to have an appearance that changed with the face of the moon. At its fullest, she was the most beautiful of Goddesses, but as time progressed, she became horrifically ugly and drew a curtain across the moon’s light to prevent anyone from witnessing her change. Under the dark of the moon, her visage was thought to have been terrible enough to strike a man dead should he catch a glimpse of her.
Scions of Demosia were left as babes on the night of a lunar eclipse, given by the Goddess to deserving but barren families to raise. While socially reclusive, Demosia’s Scions were often the culture’s confidants. Many took vows of silence.
The Atlantean people relied almost entirely upon the bounty of the sea and their lush island nation to provide for their material needs. They were well aware of their fortune, having visited other cultures where the natural resources were much scarcer, but they also realized that nature can be a harsh mistress. The Goddess Heshon embodied that paradox, symbolizing bounty, luck and plenty as well as the harsh costs thereof. Like the jungle and sea, Heshon was both lush and potentially dangerous, a wild woman untamed even by her husband-mate, Skaft. She was portrayed as an unkempt-but-beautiful woman, lithe and athletic. Her hands and feet were tipped in talons, and she wore no clothing. Instead, her blue-green hair fell around her like a verdant cloak. Those who were lost to the jungle were said to have gone to serve Heshon.
Heshon’s Scions were rarely raised in villages. Almost inevitably, they appeared, walking out of the jungle as children or youths, more wild than not, but very self-reliant. They acted as guardians of the village or city they “adopted,” sometimes by killing jungle animals that plagued the townsfolk or by coming to the aid of those who had become lost or injured in the wilds or shoreline and were less able to help themselves. Those who came to rely too heavily upon the wild Scions, however, found their presence notably absent when it was most counted to be there.
First son of Badarus and Amnis, Kuros was intellect and investigation embodied. He was reported to be able to travel as quickly as thought itself, and thus kept company with both his mother at home on Atlantis and his father on his travels across the World almost simultaneously. Known as the messenger to the Gods, Kuros was rarely pictured in Atlantean art as he was thought to be invisible, but forceful, like the wind. As such, Atlantean seamen would often sew prayers to Kuros upon the sails of their ships.
Kuros was married to his sister-wife, Demosia, and his ability to travel instantaneously allowed him to travel to visit her in her mysterious night-domain as well. Kuros and Demosia were, much like their parents, opposites that complemented each other well. Each believed that his or her way of gathering information was the best, and no small rivalry existed between Kuros’ “share it with all” attitude and his wife’s desire to horde secrets for herself.
Scions of Kuros sometimes traveled away from Atlantis, but even those who remained in their homeland constantly sought information and answers.
Unlike the rest of the Atlantean Gods, who were all immortal from birth, legends of Skaft claim he began life as a mortal man. As a child, while his people were still wandering hunters and gatherers, Skaft noticed his mother cut her hand while using a sharp stone to butcher a hare. To protect her skin from the stone’s sharp edges, he fashioned a cunning handle for it, creating the first knife. He went on to create all the tools the Atlantean people would need to settle into cities rather than living nomadically: hammers and fishing spears, boats and nets, and the first ovens and kilns. In a short time, the Atlantean people, aided by his inventions, were well on their way to becoming the advanced nation they would eventually become. Skaft continued to invent not only tools and machines, but the ideas behind all of the great Atlantean sciences: navigation, architecture and making ships. His works were functional and beautiful, defining Atlantean aesthetics for centuries to come. So great was his creativity and his dedication to his people that when he died, the other Gods welcomed him to their side, where he served for eons as the Atlantean God of technology, building, art and creation. Skaft eventually won the love of Heshon, the Goddess of Luck. The two never shared a home for long, however. Skaft preferred the cities and settled areas, while Heshon preferred the wild.
Although Badarus reportedly sired the rest of the Atlantean Gods, Versak was inevitably portrayed as much older than the explorer-God in visage, fulfilling a strange and seemingly contradictory role as both his son and his elder. Versak was the truthspeaker for the Atlantean culture. His Scions were the nation’s lawgivers, and to them fell the responsibility for dealing with those deviants who would have used Atlantis’ technological superiority for their own gain, or who were unable to abide by the peaceful laws of the island-nation. Versak was also one of the Atlantean Death Gods, although his role in this sphere was limited to those whose fates had caught up with them: criminals, thrill-seekers, those who indulged in unhealthy practices to excess and the like. Unlike many of the Atlantean Gods, Versak was a loner, never linked romantically with other Gods of the pantheon. When he sired Scions, it was not through a tryst, but through imparting his divine word upon the subject of his attention. Those who bore Versak’s Scions were often virgins and after giving birth, were frequently given the title “the Mother of Truth” and accorded particular respect among the Atlantean nation for their perceived wisdom having been singled out for Versak’s attentions. Some references to Versak in Seshat’s scrolls refer to the God as female or neuter.