The origins of life are often times contested. Religious, philosophical and scientific conflict often give rise to the inevitable frustration that comes with determining one's origins. Perhaps not so for the reHumans of New Terra, who can less-than-fondly trace their lineage back to the Geno-Tanks of Tor Prime.
But what of the origins of the universe, the galaxy and planets?
Those, are perhaps more speculative, but no less spectacular.
The most common belief for the formation of the universe is the "World Forge" - a celestial realm from which all physical matter descends from, and is released into the material plane. Though it's name might be misleading, leading us to believe that the world forge only deals with the formation of planets, it is not so. The World Forge is a place where all cosmic entities are built, from the most gigantic mega-planets, right down to the molecules and atoms that are necessary to let the universe cycle the old, dead parts into new, youthful celestial bodies.
In illuminated manuscripts, the World Forge is often times depicted as a giant smithy, where gargantuan, primordial beings delicately shape cosmic bodies from a fine cosmic dust into stars and planets. This archaic view is recently being overshadowed as the older generation of scholars phases out, in favor of the new generation who have some rather 'avant garde' ideas of what the World Forge looks like.
Popularly, it is not a single place, and certainly not in the shape of any sort of silly 'human' structure - like a forge. Instead, it is an eternal plane, it's ground shrouded in grey mist, where colossal, twisting pillars descend into a dark, endless sky. These pillars twist and wind, intertwining and intermingling until they reach their apex, from which a bulbous bud comes into being. It is from this bud that a star, or planet, is born.
These "Planet Plants" are not like anything seen in the terrestrial realm. They are not leafy or green, nor do they photosynthesize or grow in the traditional fashion. More likely, they are machinations of the gods, crafted by will alone of a some substance immaterial. The behemoth stalks part and shift away as the bulb opens, slowly revealing the tender, sometimes unfinished crust of a new world.
There is still debate on what factors go into making a certain type of planet (IE - Gas giant versus Rock Planet or Water Planet) and it has been mostly agreed upon that we aren't at liberty to know just what determines whether or not the plant blossoms into a planet or star, or gas cloud or anything else. This Forge is by no means autonomous though - it is staffed by demigods, or godlings - the distinction between the two is there, but small. Perhaps some divine fertilizer determines what the plants will sprout. Or perhaps it's the will of the custodians who shape what each plant will yield. In newer illustrations, the godlings can be seen, mostly naked, gender less beings of substantial beauty, standing perhaps a quarter of the size of the plants, checking their plants for impurities as a gardener might inspect a tree. Plants often blossom with cores exposed or with a crust to thin or too thick, to which the caretaker will remedy with a soft brush of the hand, as if to massage away too much, or to dab a little more on. Stars will sometimes blossom fizzling, to which a custodian might transplant it in a different area or simply wrap it back into it's husk for more incubation. Rarely, are they seen throwing out one of their precious planets - though some have suggested that New Terra herself is one of the forsaken.
What happens to the planet after it's gestation ends is unknown. Some artist renditions display it simply floating away from the stalk, into space. From there, perhaps it wanders (from which the word Planet has it's roots, Planatos) until it finds a rift large enough to let it into the material plane. Some artists show the planets being picks by four or five of the guardians, and given to the Gods as gifts or perhaps even as tribute.
The truth of the matter is, that it is still shrouded in mystery.