[center][h1][color=#d35400]Anat'aa[/color][/h1]

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So it was that in the vastness of the deep desert, far beyond the sight of the great river, where great flats of hard stone broke beyond the surface of sand, did the chosen of Anat’aa emerge. They seemed at first like those of their beastfolk kin, save for an ashen gray design stained across the flesh and fur of their left ear. For this was the place that the Goddess had whispered the name of fire to them, marking them forever more. Even now, she watched them, dancing always out of sight but keeping them in hers. Even as they took their first stumbling steps into the uneven sand, she rejoiced in their lives.

Still, the birthplace of these chosen was not a kind one. As only the hardiest of plants could scratch out a living among the rocks and sands, so food was scarce. Water hid itself away from them, so thirst was a constant friend. But above all, during the days in this place the malefic sun shone so hotly that even those who resisted the touch of fire would succumb. As such did the joy of Anat’aa turn to sorrow, and her dance slowed in this new cadence that pulled at her essence. Still through this she watched her chosen, never far from them. 

Even in this harshness, even as the sorrow of their Goddess welled over at their plight, did the chosen endure. Theirs was not an easy way, they stumbled but never fell, if one found the sweet roots of a plant or the bounty of a post blood rain it was shared with the others. If they found water, they ensured all drank their fill. There were deaths of course, many falling to the sand, or thirst, but still they hung on. Soon generations came to pass like the rising and setting of the sun, and the harshness of the first chosen became a memory. A lesson that was taught to them by the planet itself.

They learned how to survive their home, move in the night to avoid the sun, to find water in the shadow of the stones, to split the hard plants to receive the sweet flesh within. Above all they learned to find joy in each other, for the desert takes those alone. In this did the sorrow of Anat’aa abate, and in so doing did she descend to walk with them for a time. She saw that even though they were safe from the burning sun at night, the darkness and cold of the desert still plagued them. As such she gathered cast off husks of the desert plants and put them at the feet of several of the slumbering beastfolk.

Whispering once more to each in turn, she told them how to cultivate fire. How to bring light to the darkness they resided in. Departing them Anat’aa sung to herself, a song of memory and time, a song to change the inner fire of those who were taught to ensure that they never forget the lessons they had learned. Changing the release for the fire to one of a need to  teach. 

Coming to rest atop a stone away from them did Anat’aa settle down to watch them once more. 
Night came and with it came the first fires of the chosen, springing up across the group, gathering the many around them. Anat’aa saw this and was happy. 

Again days and nights swirled in the heavens, generations coming and going before the goddess of fire’s eyes and senses. Soon buildings arose, first woven from the hard bones of the desert plants. Eventually gave way to  flat topped structures carved from the rocks themselves. While perhaps no great construction a small city emerged from the hollows of the sandblasted rocks all the same. 

They dug cisterns to hold seasonal water, filling them and keeping them well away from the surface. In the same vein did the chosen dig trenches to divert the blood rains into their own pits. From which was created hardy broths and, when mixed with the mashed pulp of the plants and cooked, a thin drink that sustained their bodies if they needed to venture out in the day. 

All through this did the song of Anat’aa ring in the fire of the descendants of the original chosen who were taught. Becoming storytellers, they told of the days of the first chosen, of the dance of Yumash and Anat’aa, the whisperings of the goddess and tails of myth and moral. Each night they stoked great fires to bring light to the night, each morning they doused all but a few embers they carried to their homes for the next night. In this way did they tend the flames and the chosen. 

Anat’aa was content with this, watching the burning souls of her chosen surge even in the desert. Soon something caught her attention, so she rose from her rest and returned to the Chosen. Under the guise of a young storyteller she entered the carved structures, weaving around the now much larger population Anat’aa came to a house that lay on the edge of the city. 

It was nothing special, simple mud brick and stone. But it was not the structure that interested her, but what lay inside. A newborn beastfolk, a phoenix that lay swaddled in the main room, cooing at the crackling fire in the hearth. Anat’aa looked upon the newborn and saw the fire within them. It looked like the fire of the other storytellers, but it burned with intensity, bright even among the throngs of its peers. Laughing Anat’aa entered the house and lifted the child so she may look into their eyes. Unexpectedly the child looked back, as if it could see the goddess beneath the disguise. 

[color=#d35400]“You little one are going to be something wonderful!”[/color] Anat’aa exclaimed as she twirled with delight, [color=#d35400]“I Have been waiting for you! I did not know I was but here you are!”[/color]

The child cooed with delight as the goddess twirled with her, showing no fear even as Anat’aa’s form roared back to its divine brilliance. With the roar of a great fire did Anat’aa bring the child over great leagues to where the glass spiral lay, still roiling with magma. Holding the baby close she held it so it may look upon the structure. 

[color=#d35400]“You will remember this place little one, for you will return here when you are ready. It will challenge you, maybe even harm you. But when you reach its center I will be waiting. For you are special even among my Chosen.” [/color] Anat’aa spoke her voice clear above the din and roar

Reaching down she dipped her finger into the magma and brought it to the child's forehead, turning it to look into her eyes again. [color=#d35400]“So do I name you Inanna. And impart on you purpose”[/color]

As she spoke did Anat’aa trace her finger in a symmetrical design across the childs forehead, the magma creating a black mark on the Inanna’s feathers. If this harmed Inanna, they did not cry out only returning the look from Anat’aa silently. 

Smiling with satisfaction Anat’aa returned Inanna to her home, the main room now scorched with her passing. Laying Inanna down in the center of the room Anat’aa laughed as she departed once more to the spiral, this time to eagerly await her new found curiosity. Leaving behind only the babe, the scorched room, and smoldering marks etched into the burned room [i][color=#d35400]’I have been named Inanna for now and forever’[/color][/i][/center]

[hider=summary]
Anat’aa observes her Chosen, the group of beastfolk that she had blessed on their creation as they emerge in the desert. The going is tough for their first while as the desert is, unsurprisingly, a very hard place to live. Eventually as the years march by they learn the basics of desert survival, after which Anat’aa gifts them with the knowledge of how to harness fire to make their lives a little easier. From this she creates a storytell caste that maintains a spoken history of the Chosen as well as maintaining their fires. 

The gift of fire allows further development of the Chosen to a larger isolated population in the deep desert. Using the lessons they learned earlier to create a relatively complex society. Eventually this society gives rise to an individual with a particularly strong inner fire, that takes Anat’aa’s notice. She names this child Inanna, and marks them as well as telling them to seek her out in the glass spiral in the future. 
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[hider=MP use]
MP at start: 11

Teach the population how to use fire 1 MP

MP at end 10 MP
[/hider]