Preface

Hello,

My name is Azamor, and this book is the result of years of gathering ideas, stories, myths, games, legends, and inspirations into a single universe.

Lotus began as a setting for adventures, but it grew into something greater: a living world with its own cosmology, peoples, conflicts, and mysteries.

This book does not intend to answer every question. On the contrary, its purpose is to present the foundations of this universe and serve as a gateway for those who wish to explore it.

Whether you are a reader, player, game master, or simply a curious traveler, welcome to Lotus.

May you find here something worthy of being remembered.

The Vision of Germination

I witnessed the world ages before it had a name.

Before maps, before divided skies, before destiny learned to follow lines.

I saw its germination as an impossible flower. A stalk of energy so dark that light itself dared not manifest in its presence rose from nothingness. It was not absence—it was excess. Dense, silent, aware. This darkness was not rejected by creation; it was its first foundation.

That stalk plunged into depths never meant for mortal eyes. There formed what is now known as the Shadow Plane.

At the tip of that stalk, the darkness began to spread and thin, unfolding into a vast shadowed membrane. Thus the bud emerged: firm enough to bear weight, vast enough to contain stories—a world in the shape of a disk.

After the germination, I saw the world learn to sustain itself.

From the center of that disk, where the primordial stalk had become fully condensed, rose Mount Olympus. It was not raised by hands, nor shaped by an external will.

It emerged.

Olympus is axis and anchor. Its foundations touch the roots of the world, and its shadow echoes through the reflected plane below. Yet its summit points toward a place where destiny remains undecided.

From it flow unseen currents—of mana, matter, and intent—that shape winds, rivers, continents, and magical tides.

Everything that falls falls toward it.

Everything that rises measures itself against its height.

Then came the Twelve Suns.

They were not born together, nor were they alike. Each ignited within a different arc of the heavens.

As their newborn light met the shadowed membrane—not in conflict, but in creative tension—the substance of the world solidified.

Thus each sun traced invisible borders across the disk.

Where a sun reigns, the land responds.

Light does not merely warm—it claims.

Climates, biomes, peoples, cultures, and conflicts align themselves with its presence, as though the very ground recognizes its celestial sovereign.

No land exists without a sun to claim it.

And no sun shines without demanding something in return.

Yet light alone cannot sustain a world.

Later, it was revealed to me that each sun required a living axis, something that would anchor its influence to the land and prevent its power from spreading without shape or limit.

And so arose the Trees of Life.

They did not sprout from ordinary soil, nor did they obey the seasons. Each was born at the precise place where the light of one of the Twelve Suns first touched the world.

Their roots burrowed deep through stone, mana, and memory until they reached the currents flowing from Olympus—and deeper still, the shadowed echoes of the primordial stalk.

Their trunks rose like living pillars, reflecting upon the earth what their suns embodied in the heavens.

Where a sun burned with fury, its tree grew wild and untamed.

Where another shone in balance, its tree flourished in harmonious cycles.

Thus each territory gained a heart.

Not merely defined by the light that claimed it, but sustained by a living force that translated that light into the world.

Peoples learned—even without understanding—to live beneath the shadows of these trees, shaped by their sap, their fruits, and their silences.

The Twelve Moons, however, accept no dominion.

They came later, cold and patient, beginning their dance around Olympus.

They do not define—they influence.

Transient and ever-changing, they cross the heavens in cycles that affect tides, magic, dreams, and rituals.

Each moon observes the world from a different angle, and none remains long enough to become a tyrant.

When they align, destiny bends.

When they vanish, secrets flourish.

Whenever they pass above a Tree of Life, something within it changes: a branch withers, another blossoms, a prophecy takes root.

Many ages did not begin with wars or coronations, but with the unexpected blooming of a branch beneath a wandering moon.

Thus it was shown to me:

A world anchored by a central axis, divided by the constant light of the suns, sustained by living roots, and transformed by the uncertain steps of the moons.

Stable enough to exist.

Unstable enough to never cease changing.

I was not made to judge this world.

I was made to witness it.

And what I witnessed...

is still unfolding.

— The Diviner,

Archivist of what was, what is, and what almost was.

Mount Olympus — The Living Axis of the World

At the center of Lotus rises Mount Olympus.

It is not merely a mountain, but the axis of existence, the pillar that sustains heavens, planes, and destiny.

Its colossal form pierces the clouds, wounds the firmament, and nearly touches the stars, reaching the threshold of the Void, beyond the skies and above the heavens, where reality dissolves and only the absolute remains.

It is said that the world does not revolve around Olympus—

Olympus is what keeps the world whole.

A Living Biome

Mount Olympus lives.

Its slopes, valleys, caverns, and plateaus form unique biomes—mutable and hostile—where entire peoples are born, flourish, and vanish without ever reaching half its height.

Forests grow upon veins of divine power. Suspended seas evaporate and return. Creatures emerge from living stone, and entire civilizations are erased when the Mountain decides to change.

To mortals, Olympus is not a climb—it is divine natural selection.

Very few survive long enough to realize they are walking upon the body of something conscious.

The Field of Suppression

From the summit emanates an invisible field, a silent presence that suffocates ordinary magic.

The higher one ascends, the more mortal spells fail, rituals unravel, and arcane power falls silent.

Only gods and beings of divine essence cast freely beneath its influence.

Near the peak, non-divine magic ceases to exist entirely—not through denial, but through irrelevance.

There, only the will of the gods shapes reality.

The Hall of Omnipotence

At the highest point of the Mountain, where the world nearly touches the Void, stands the Hall of Omnipotence.

It is there that the most powerful gods gather—a restricted circle, traditionally thirteen—not because they are the strongest, but because they alone can endure such proximity to the Absolute.

Within the Hall, the fate of individuals is not decided.

The course of ages is.

Divine wars are permitted or prevented. Peoples are elevated or condemned. Cosmic laws are adjusted, always at the cost of faith, essence, and sacrifice.

The Silent Judgment

Mount Olympus protects no one.

It watches.

With every step of the ascent, it tests body, mind, faith, and essence.

Most fail.

Many are consumed.

A rare few are transformed.

For Olympus does not prevent ascension—it merely ensures that only those worthy may approach its summit.

And even then, no being can claim that the Mountain allowed their passage out of benevolence.

The Final Truth

Some gods whisper that Mount Olympus is the last physical remnant of the Fall of Destiny.

Others claim it is a wound in the universe that never healed.

Yet all agree on one thing:

As long as Olympus endures, no god is absolute, no magic is sovereign, and the world shall never stand beyond judgment.

— Unanimous Account Source: Residents of the Base of Olympus

The Flower-world

Is This Your First Time Here?

Do not be afraid. Lower your weapons and do not let my appearance deceive you...

I know my kin are not known for the finest of reputations, but I am not aggressive without reason.

Just do not touch my food. I do not share it. And you certainly would not enjoy seeing me hungry.

Before you continue, I suggest you look.

Take in the unique view this place offers.

We stand so high that we can see more than one sun, more than one Tree of Life, and more than one moon at the same time.

From here we witness countless sunrises and sunsets, noons and midnights, springs and winters coexisting before our eyes.

Beautiful, isn't it?

I love walking around the mountain. Seeing all the petals, all the suns, all the lives.

It is from up here that certain truths become clear.

Why people change.

Why kings fight over territories.

Why we grow.

And why we die.

Territories do not belong only to living beings.

Look at the suns.

None of them trespasses upon another's domain.

The light of one never touches the land destined for another.

It is from the reach of these lights that we conceive the Petals of Lotus.

And despite being so powerful and magnificent, the suns do not exist alone.

Throughout each year, twelve moons cross their paths, meeting their light in countless ways. Some favor intense warmth; others prefer gentler radiance. Every encounter leaves a different mark upon the world.

The moons move the seas.

They carry energies.

They influence plants, animals, and peoples.

And in answer to the moons, rising in all their grandeur, stand the Trees of Life.

One in each petal.

They sustain the health of their lands, distribute lunar energies, and keep the suns steadfast upon their paths.

Yes... it is the sun that circles the tree.

Throughout the day, it follows its orbit to illuminate every part of its domain, always leaving at least one side bathed in light.

So then, adventurers...

Continue your journey.

You have not yet reached even halfway up Mount Olympus.

If you seek the gods, there is still much left to climb.

I wish you good fortune.

This will be the last time we see one another.

Whether you achieve your goal or fail along the way matters little.

If you descend this mountain...

you will be different people from those who arrived.

— Orcus the Hermit, Solitary Dweller of Mount Olympus