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  1. - Top - End - #1
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    HalflingPirate

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    Default Deities and Legends for Everyone

    The idea of this thread is to brew up deities and legendary heros for anyone to use. They will not comprise a single pantheon, but it is allowed to springboard ideas from other posters. Be as vague or as detailed as you like concerning game mechanics.

    To start the ball rolling, I offer:

    The Good God Of Thieves

    In the city of Maelovar a council of vampires rule, treating others as cattle. In the Kingdom of Desuil the Usurper has reigned for a generation, oppressing the loyalists. In the Westering Plains hobgoblins have driven everyone into hiding or into fortifications.

    Such places attract the clerics and followers of Lishon, also known as The Wisperer In The Shadow, Tyrant's Bane, and The Shadow Weaver. Wherever Good people are oppressed, the Cult of the Veil takes root.

    None know her origin, but one popular myth speaks of her as twin to Bellaxar, the dead god of war, slain by his sister over his lust for conquest. Clerics of the faith deny the story as enemy propaganda. There are no images of her face. Indeed, images of her in art tend to be indistinct and only vaguely that of a female humanoid. Her holy symbol is a red cat's eye within a silver tear.

    When she reveals herself in stories she most often manifests as a voice whispering in the darkness, advising oppressed heroes in their hour of great need. Her followers operate underground organizations and secret societies with the purpose of succoring and sustaining oppressed people and fighting tbe long resistance struggles against occupiers and conquerors.

    Clerics of Lishon are effective in the use of Trickery, Stealth, War, Shadow, Chaos, and Good type magics. Their temples and shrines are in refugee camps and safe houses in occupied territory. They maintain temples in regions of peace and plenty as supply depots to organize logistics trains into oppressed regions. In places where the cult is repressedby authority they often take refuge in more sympathetic churches.

    Lishon is, of course, Chaotic Good. She is associated with cats because her worship began with those who tended the cats which hunted the rats in the granaries of other faiths. Their land was overrun by conquers who killed the priests of the temples, but overlooked the cat-tenders, who kept doing their duty under new masters. For the next two generations they prepared as their oppressors imposed ever harsher conditions upon them, and in the third they overthrew the occupiers.

    In the aftermath, the cult had found a purpose and began to seek out oppressors to overthrow. Their web of contacts, informants, merchants, and messengers spread across the known world, and thousands of followers of every class await the call of freedom.

  2. - Top - End - #2
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    jqavins's Avatar

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    Default Re: Deities and Legends for Everyone

    Quote Originally Posted by brian 333 View Post
    The Good God Of Thieves...
    Dang! that is such a cool goddess that I couldn't resist replying, and now I feel obligated to come up with one myself. I'll edit this post when I've god something good.
    -- Joe
    “Shared pain is diminished. Shared joy is increased.”
    -- Spider Roninson

    Always remember that anything posted on the internet is, in a practical if not a legal sense, in the public domain.
    You are completely welcome to use anything I post here, or I wouldn't post it.

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    Pixie in the Playground
     
    Lizardfolk

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    Part of a Dwarven Pantheon for a homebrew setting


    Ygra Starbraid

    Ygra Starbraid, as she is now named, is known among the dwarven pantheon as the Forge Mother. When the world was young and the lands untamed the great gods set to create those who walk among its primordial wonder. The elves were born of seeds, man molded of beast, but Ygra wanted more for her children. She sought a race built of earth and metal; a resilient folk who would not wilt like the people of the trees or butchered like the people of beasts. She sought warriors, craftsmen, those needed to put order to an untamed land, but try as she might there was no earth that would hold, and no metal that would not shatter. Countless were the days she labored in forge and foundry with every gift the earth could give and nothing took form.

    One day while lost in forlorn thoughts a brilliant star blazed across the sky and landed atop a great peak. Ygra found this star and what was left was a metal like none any had ever seen, and in her hope blossomed for her answer was found, but try as she might for no fire or forge would the star be molded.

    Bereft once more she sat cradling the ore in her lap, her children, her people locked in its immutable form for lack of a forge that could wrought her will. As she sat, she felt a warmth growing inside her, a radiant heat from her belly where it pressed against the stone and to her wonder she watched as the metal began to yield. In her grief, cradling the immoldable star she had unraveled the riddle that plagued her for she was the forge she sought.

    Taking the stone unto her womb she labored with it for moons and ages, all the while life was suffused into alien steel until at last the fallen star was ready for her great work. Taking the molten core form her womb she laid it upon the forge and began at last to hammer into shape her children, stocky people of purpose and strength, determination was set in their veins, iron in their thews, and they were crowned in splendid wreathes of vibrant hair that reflected all the precious metals of the world.

    As she worked flecks of the star metal chipped and leaped from the blows of her hammer, the sparkling shards landing in the midnight loom of her raven hair like stars in the dark of night. When at last she finished her hair twinkled like the evening sky and before her were the first of the stone folk, the Dorwa, or dwarves in the common tongue.

    Today the Forge Mother is revered as the life giver and patron of great works for she labored hard to build her people and her people should labor as hard in their own works. As such her doctrine teaches that life is sacred and toil worthy. One should work hard and enjoy life as it is a gift from the stars.

    She is worshipped by many and served by an order of priests and priestesses gifted in craft and life. The clergy of Ygra are often involved in the many ceremonies of dwarven life, marriage, death, celebrations, mourning; though perhaps they are most often sought as skilled artisans as craftsmen with few peers and as bringers of life to honor the Forge Mother.

    For while Ygra did indeed create a hardy folk they are far from numerous, and worse still their bodies once of metal share a curse with those once of tree as both are long-lived but slow to reproduce. In part by this curse, and in addition to the constant battles against the things of shadow, and many Dorwa sons lie in tombs rather than the hearths of home.

    To this end, the clerics of the Forge Mother are often called upon to aid Dorwa women with matters of creating children. Often this is accomplished with magic or other means to aid conception of strong Dorwa children and it is in these practices that the clerics of Ygra Starbraid best touch their greatest works, the continuation of their people.
    Last edited by GodEnigma; 2018-06-18 at 03:43 PM.
    Chaotic Neutral Human Bard (4th Level)

    Ability Scores:
    Strength- 12
    Dexterity- 15
    Constitution- 14
    Intelligence- 15
    Wisdom- 16
    Charisma- 13


  4. - Top - End - #4
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    HalflingPirate

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    Default Re: Deities and Legends for Everyone

    Aunaxxordh Thrice Crowned

    A legendary patriarch of dwarven lore is actually a matriarch, often mistaken by non-dwarves to be male due to bearded statues of her. Dwarven stonesmiths have long emphasized beards in their art, giving dwarves of high status thicker, fuller beards which display their importance. And it's unlikely she wasn't bearded by middle age, as most dwarven women tend to be at least to some degree.

    Her name is in the feminine form, as any dwarf will recognize, and her legend extends back in time to the founding of the dwarvish culture.

    In her youth Aunaxxordh was daughter of a clan chieftain, and she learned politics with her mother's milk. In time she arranged for her father to offer her as bride to another chieftain, whose ambitious grasping for power she hoped to moderate. Instead, soon after her marriage he went to war and never returned. The enemy he had attacked came to pillage his lands.

    Aunaxxordh had heard of the defeat, and had ordered the armories thrown open, arming the old men and boys, as well as the women. By the time the enemy was at the gates, the resistance was prepared. The killer of her husband was himself slain, and she became clan chieftain in her own name.

    Then came an invasion of kobolds, driven by Thassalar The Devourer, a scion of the ancient wyrms who drove the dwarves from their first homes. By careful management of her forces, and by accepting dwarven refugees from other clans to swell her ranks, she was able first to weaken the kobold ranks, then harry the dragon, who finally gave combat at The Crossings of Thalassar. With the last remnants of the dwarven clans in her region, the battle ended with a dead dragon and the remnants of six clans hailing her as their queen.

    She ruled long and well, but other dwarven leaders in other lands grew jealous of her power. Others claimed direct descent from ancestral fathers, or control of larger clans, or greater prosperity. Just when it looked like war between dwarves was inevitable she demanded a moot, setting it at ten years from its announcement so, as she claimed, all chieftains could hear of it and attend.

    Her real purpose was political. By the time of the moot she had wrangled enough votes to insure she was granted figurehead status as queen of all dwarven clans, a role which would eliminate any need for a king, making all clan patriarchs more or less equal in power and status, with no threat from a figurehead monarch.

    What she failed to realize was that by accepting the crown, she made other dwarves believe in her authority. In the end she united the wandering clans into a true kingdom which has lasted to this day. Crowned twice in her lifetime, she was again crowned upon her death by Ygra Starbraid as Eternal Queen of Dwarves.

    She is always depicted as wearing full plate with a tower shield.
    Last edited by brian 333; 2018-06-18 at 09:05 PM.

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    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    Zombie

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    Tcith and Tfitp are a celestial diad engaged in an endless chaoskampf, a struggle representing the fundamental divide between wild nature and civilisation.

    Tcith is a great anthropomorphic black and white tiger with a devilish grin and a tattered traveller's hat. He has worshipers who seek to gain his favor or deflect his wrath, but he does not distinguish between mortals: he appears to those he chooses and bestows his cursed gifts seemingly at random. When he appears, he gives the unfortunate object of his attention a "gift" that sounds good at first, but quickly proves to be too much of a good thing.

    In one legend, Tcith bestowed a pair of cattle that bred like rabbits on a small village. At first, the villagers were thrilled at their sudden wealth. They soon discovered that they couldn't feed them all. The herd devoured all the food in the village, smashed every home and granary in the process, then starved and left a mountain of rotting beef scattered in the fields around the village.

    Another legend explains that the flooded swamp-bound city of Oanitza was once a desert oasis. The city is still a trading hub of sorts, but gained its famous canals and the Alembic River that connects it to the sea when Tcith granted a wish. The chief of the desert tribe that controlled the Oanitza oasis asked for a decanter of endless water and Tcith provided one that was quite productive but unable to be stopped.

    Tfitp is a large scaly fish that travels about in a giant clay jar. He is powerless to stop Tcith directly, but he acts as a voice of logic and reason. He often appears soon after Tcith and advises Tcith's chosen targets to refuse the temptation of his "gifts". If they do not listen, he berates them and offers warnings of doom as the disaster unfolds. At the end of the stories, Tcith vanishes as quickly as he appears, but Tfitp remains to teach the victims how to rebuild. Tfitp taught the villagers how to smoke and dry meat to save food for leaner times and he is credited with teaching the founders of the canal city of Oanitza about drainage, sanitation, and other vital infrastructure for the flooded city.

    Spoiler: Their real identity
    Show

    The Cat in the Hat and the Fish in the Pot
    Last edited by Xuc Xac; 2018-06-21 at 03:27 AM.

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    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    Pater Nosferatu
    Pater Nosferatu is a dying and reviving god who rules the seasons on his world. He is a former fertility deity who was slain in a dispute with his ex-wife, Mother Whiptail, that turned deadly. He is not content to remain in the underworld however, so every year for several months he returns as a vampire, bringing with him darkness and winter, until such time as he is finally driven off by the sun

    (3.5e Domains: Earth, Night (dragon 342), Undead (spell compendium), Winter (frostburn) )

    Alternate Version:
    On game worlds with a tilted axis he instead follows the winter, making the already dark season more cold and lifeless. He spends four months of the year living at the north pole, four months of the year living at the south pole, and the remaining four months being carried between them by a procession of servants via a passage through the underworld (he can't enter enter the tropics aboveground). It is possible that in this version, where he lives at the poles, he assumes an additional Krampus-like aspect

  7. - Top - End - #7
    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    Mother Whiptail

    Pater Nosferatu's (see above) ex-wife. The main fertility deity of her world, bringing forth crops and calves and children and so forth and making plants and animals grow. After splitting with her husband she swore off guys for good, taking the form of a Cnemidophorus lizard

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    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    The LARD

    The LARD is the god of feasts and feasting. He appears as a morbidly obese man wider than he is tall. Legend holds that it was he who first filled the seas with salt and put halite in the ground, to make them more flavorful. He was also the one who first taught mortals how to ferment plants to make MSG. Mortals court his favor by anointing the food with oil before a party.

    A neutral deity, he is invoked by both charity soup kitchens and cannibal serial killers

    EDIT:
    The LARD's domains in 3.5e:
    Feast (Eberron Campaign Setting), Gluttony (Spell Compendium), Hunger (Spell Compendium), Pleasure (BoED)
    (possibly also Hunt (Dragon 342), Joy (BoED), and Plant)

  9. - Top - End - #9
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Planetar

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    Quote Originally Posted by brian 333 View Post
    The Good God Of Thieves

    In the city of Maelovar a council of vampires rule, treating others as cattle. In the Kingdom of Desuil the Usurper has reigned for a generation, oppressing the loyalists. In the Westering Plains hobgoblins have driven everyone into hiding or into fortifications.

    Such places attract the clerics and followers of Lishon, also known as The Wisperer In The Shadow, Tyrant's Bane, and The Shadow Weaver. Wherever Good people are oppressed, the Cult of the Veil takes root.

    None know her origin, but one popular myth speaks of her as twin to Bellaxar, the dead god of war, slain by his sister over his lust for conquest. Clerics of the faith deny the story as enemy propaganda. There are no images of her face. Indeed, images of her in art tend to be indistinct and only vaguely that of a female humanoid. Her holy symbol is a red cat's eye within a silver tear.

    When she reveals herself in stories she most often manifests as a voice whispering in the darkness, advising oppressed heroes in their hour of great need. Her followers operate underground organizations and secret societies with the purpose of succoring and sustaining oppressed people and fighting tbe long resistance struggles against occupiers and conquerors.

    Clerics of Lishon are effective in the use of Trickery, Stealth, War, Shadow, Chaos, and Good type magics. Their temples and shrines are in refugee camps and safe houses in occupied territory. They maintain temples in regions of peace and plenty as supply depots to organize logistics trains into oppressed regions. In places where the cult is repressedby authority they often take refuge in more sympathetic churches.

    Lishon is, of course, Chaotic Good. She is associated with cats because her worship began with those who tended the cats which hunted the rats in the granaries of other faiths. Their land was overrun by conquers who killed the priests of the temples, but overlooked the cat-tenders, who kept doing their duty under new masters. For the next two generations they prepared as their oppressors imposed ever harsher conditions upon them, and in the third they overthrew the occupiers.

    In the aftermath, the cult had found a purpose and began to seek out oppressors to overthrow. Their web of contacts, informants, merchants, and messengers spread across the known world, and thousands of followers of every class await the call of freedom.

    One of the heroes of the Cult of the Veil is the legendary figure Marcus Maxis Martinius, or the Jack of Smiles as he's otherwise known. Nobody quite knows where he was born - he's variously said to have been the son of a sailor, the son of a prostitute, or the son of one of Maelovar's ruling vampires. Any number of daring escapes or rescues of people in trouble have been attributed to him, a man with one gleaming red eye usually hidden under a patch and a smile that breaks despair like dawn does the dark. His connection to the Cult of the Veil is that his red eye is said to have been given to him by Lishon. (Again, the stories of how he attained the eye differ. Some say he won the eye off Lishon after she lost a card game with him; another, that it was a lover's gift.) The eye is said to considerably enhance his strengths, or allow him to discern truth from lies when he reveals it to people.

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    Pixie in the Playground
     
    Beholder

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    Gromm
    Gromm big. Gromm strong. Gromm smash.

    Gromm is the ogre god of smashing. A tribe of ogres that work as hired muscle or likewise usually worship Gromm.

    Gromm was just a weak, minor demigod when a dwarven deity attacked and killed many of his brethren. Gromm hid throughout the whole ordeal and, when the dwarf was weakened by the battle, he struck out and killed the dwarf. He ate the deity's flesh and grew big and strong, towering over all other ogres.

    Ogres that worship Gromm often specialize in ambushing their prey with a well placed smash, often stunning their opponents or just killing them outright.

    Shrines to Gromm are large, made out of dwarf bones. Whenever a dwarf is killed by followers of Gromm, they add its bones to the pile and burn its meat for Gromm.

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    DruidGuy

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    The Mother of Many Faces and the Faceless Mother

    The beastfolk of Dal Anviha worship the Mother of Many Faces. She is present in all things natural and primal, with a different Face watching everything. She brings forth all life and cares for all that dies, passing through the Gates of Horn to be born anew. Yet as her clerics caution the naive humans from foreign realms that have laid siege to their fertile lands, she is not a kind or peaceful goddess. When words will not do, they go to their sacred places - any natural space can do but they prefer rowan trees or groves that grow in high places near water - to call on their siblings the nature spirits to help them teach these lessons by force. There are some Faces whose gaze brings blessings and joy, some whose gaze is easily tolerated and some whose gaze demands appeasement. However, there are some Faces whose gaze must be avoided at all cost, some Faces whose names are secrets for a reason and some Faces which need to be blinded. For the humans are hardly the gravest threat the beastfolk have faced.

    Today, the beastfolk survive in tribes scattered across the realm. The furred folk - whom the humans call bugbears - roam the plains and forests, the feathered folk - whom the humans call Aarakocra - take to the snow-capped mountains and the scaled folk - whom the humans call Lizardfolk - dwell on and along the waterways. Once upon a time however, at least as the myths claim, the beastfolk and the nature spirits were one people - the Mother's Favoured Children. It is said the Mother has six Consorts: the Land, the Sky, the Sea, the Sun, the Moon and the Stars. The Favoured Children need have only asked the Consorts for great gifts. The Land would give them legs to run and climb for miles without tiring. The Sky would give them wings to fly as high as the clouds. The Sun would give them a heart full of warmth and strength. The Moon would give them wisdom to accept change and the bittersweet ephemera of the world. The Stars would give them minds with perspective on their mortal lives and knowledge of esoteric secrets.

    Then one day came one of the Favoured Children named Cawlyukh. She asked for things that none had asked for before her. She asked for power not for power over the stone and fire beneath her feet, nor the winds or storms above her, nor the waters and ice about her but rather power over the blood that flowed in all things with a heartbeat. She asked not for the comforting warmth of the Sun, nor the inspiring shifting of moonlight, nor the cold perspective of starlight but depths of pitch black darkness. And she was refused. Shocked, Cawlyukh turned to a Face of the Mother for what she desired, then another and another, making her request each time and each time she was denied.

    As her pleas went unheard, the other Children took notice and this filled Cawlyukh with anger. Her desire turned to obsession. She turned to the Faces that many neglected and still was denied. She turned to the Faces that many shunned and was denied. She turned to the Faces that many dared not speak of and was still denied. The other Children turned their backs on Cawlyukh for her obsessions and the lengths she had taken to fulfill them. In isolation from the Mother and the Children she became a twisted thing. She grew deluded and her anger was covered by a layer of patient, dutiful, attentive care. In her madness she had come to believe that the Mother was sick, that it was the other Favoured Children who having fallen to madness made the Mother so, that the obsession that drove her delusions was the only thing keeping her and her alone sane. After much time had passed, and Cawlyukh’s request been denied by ten thousand Faces of the Mother, she found those who would grant her request. Through vile and cruel “research” she had found the toxic, cancerous Faces of Plague, Slaughter, Hunger and Ruin, and they would fulfill her wish. By twisting the powers at the heart of the Many-Faced Mother into perverted forms, she became the first shapechanger.

    Cawlyukh wrought devastation on the world. She was driven to terrorize her brethren, to spoil their works, haunt their dreams and feast on their flesh. She was not repulsed at what she had become, rather the rotting of her soul had left behind something that could not merely tolerate this evil but reveled in it. She spawned more of her kind and her host came to threaten not just the children but the Mother herself. Under the guidance of the Mother and her Consorts, the Children united against this great horror and struck down Cawlyukh’s kind one by one. Each victory was hard fought and came with many losses, but in time Cawlyukh stood alone once more. She came to the site of a sacred rowan tree guarded by the spiritual leaders of the Favoured Children, to seek retribution for isolating her once more.

    Here, the Mother reached out through the tree as though stretching a mighty arm and struck Cawlyukh through the heart with a long, straight branch stripped and sharpened into a great lance. Cawlyukh was cursed to lie paralyzed, by the strength of the Children’s prayers and at the direction of the Mother’s will. Each of the Consorts laid a new curse upon Cawlyukh. The Land cursed her so that silver would burn her as surely as any acid. The Sky cursed her so that the touch of lightning would bind her form and seal her powers. The Sea cursed her so that flowing water or the mither of the sea would be as an iron wall to her. The Sun cursed her so that the touch of sunlight was no longer a comforting warmth but a torturous burning. The Moon cursed her so that her powers waxed and waned with the Moon’s phases. The greatest curse of all though came from the Stars. The Stars saw what needed to be done and with ten thousand voices screamed a curse so terrible it splintered the lance, Cawlyukh and all the Children. Cawlyukh roared as the curse's power shattered her face into countless splinters leaving only a bloody maw. She was defeated and the world was saved.

    From that day forth, the spawn of Cawlyukh - now the Faceless Mother - were divided among the many different lines of shapechangers. They warred with themselves and were never again united as a single force. However, they remain a threat and Cawlyukh was not destroyed, a husk of what she was yet retains the madness, the cruelty and the obsessions that led the world to the brink before. Her spawn are the werewolves, the vampires and the doppelgangers. When warring with one another, they are dangerous to the beastfolk and some are mad enough to walk in the steps of their Faceless Mother in search of power. Her warlocks brave the all-consuming maw so they may consume to their often unbeating heart's content - flesh, blood and bone. Of the Favoured Children, alas, though that final curse saved the Mother and her Children from oblivion, it saw those who were once Favoured brought low. Some were marked by the Land and became the furred folk. Some were marked by the Sky and became the feathered folk. Some were marked by the Sea and became the scaled folk. Others became the nature spirits bound to the turnings of the Sun, the Moon and the Stars respectively.

    The beastfolk do not have a prophecy of ultimate triumph or of a utopian reunion of their people into what they had once been. Instead the beastfolk understand that they have a duty to fight the shapechangers and remain ready lest the Faceless Mother or her agents rise again. They know to respect the powers of the primordial forces of nature that are the Faces of the Mother of Many Faces. They know how important it is that certain primordial spirits are never disturbed or even found. They know that they have no guarantee of ever receiving the gifts their forbears lost, yet they hope and they will not allow the humans and their false gods to interfere.

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    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    HalflingPirate

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    Galadar, in bear's shape, chased the gnome, reveling in the fear he smelled on the prey's spoor. He was no longer hunting; the gnome was too weak with fatigue and fear to escape. He savored the taste of the anticipation of the kill, spiced by the pheremones of the gnome's desperation.

    The gnome was just ahead now, staggering under its fatigue. Five miles was a long run for a gnome. Even crashing through the brush could not frighten more speed from it now. Now only the kill remained.

    He found the gnome, fallen and struggling to regain its feet by clawing at the trunk of a tree. It saw him. Galadar could still smell the fear, but it was muted, replaced with the resignation of exhaustion. The gnome finally accepted its inevitable death. It was time to show it who it had been so desperately fleeing.

    The great bear stood over the gnome, rising on its hind feet. Then it began to ripple as waves of magic flowed through it. The snout shrunk, revealing an all too human face as bear paws shrunk to become feet and hands. Shrinking with the final waves of magic the shapechanger became a man.

    Recognition and shock registered on the gnome's face; it knew this human! This was the beggar it had rudely dismissed the day before. Galadar savored his revenge, completely oblivious to the idea that his revenge was not proportional to the minor, and deserved, rebuff the gnome had given. His only concern was that the gnome suffer.

    He tried to take a step toward the gnome, who now lay collapsed and panting as tears flowed. His leg failed. Galadar fell, sprawling at the gnome's feet. The shapechange magic continued to flow through him, undirected by his will. He focused, but when he glanced at his legs horror struck him, and he screamed like the gnome never had.

    Pulsing, flowing, his legs pooled in a liquid puddle of yellow puss with a life of its own. Galadar screamed again, this time with rage to accent his fear and horror: it was happening to him! How could The Faceless Mother do this to him? He deserved fame, fortune, he deserved respect!

    The puss grew, and clots formed. One clot rose to the surface and split open: an eye staring back at him. Galadar had, for a moment, the image of watching himself as his torso melted into the pool. Other clots rose to the surface and split open. Some were eyes, the rest were mouths. Hungry, gnashing mouths with crooked but all too human teeth and slimy, licking tongues.

    His thoughts were scattered, incoherent. He could hear the gnome laughing, but he couldn't recall why that annoyed him. With childlike wonder he watched a mouth rise up on a slimy stalk, and his last coherent thought was of fear and anger as the mouth bit him on the face.

    ***

    A possible side effect for the clerics of The Faceless Mother. Also, an explanation for how Gibbering Mouthers are born.

  13. - Top - End - #13
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    DruidGuy

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    Quote Originally Posted by brian 333 View Post
    A possible side effect for the clerics of The Faceless Mother. Also, an explanation for how Gibbering Mouthers are born.
    LOVE this.

    ***

    After the Faceless Mother's defeat she sought to find Consorts to rival the six of the Mother of Many Faces. Many suitors came, many died painfully. Those that survived faced even more painful fates. When Pater Nosferatu fell, the Faceless Mother saw an opportunity. While he hates her as much as any, he gladly manipulates her into letting him return from the underworld. Mad as she is, she has not realized he too schemes against her. He is careful to plot only when in the underworld, away from her eyeless stare and to play the attentive, caring lover in the winter months. Some whisper that Pater Nosferatu could stand against the Sunif he chose to, but bides his time and uses the excuse to return to the underworld where he can hatch his schemes.

    The clerics of Pater Nosferatu always change the topic when this comes up. They know their patron works against the Faceless Mother in secret and so they plot in secret against the clerics of the Faceless Mother and those shapechangers loyal to them, even while they pretend to be their staunchest allies.

    This leaves the clerics of Mother Whiptail very few friends and many enemies among the locals of Dal Anviha, though some of the scaled folk (lizardfolk) have turned heretic and praise their blasphemous, new reptilian goddess with fervor.
    Last edited by GaelofDarkness; 2018-07-09 at 03:16 PM.

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    Mother Odent, the Primordial Rat

    Mother Odent is the promordial rat who gave birth to the world. She birthed the world, the sun, the moon and the stars. She gave birth to Order and Chaos. She gave birth to Honor, Freedom, and Prosperity.

    She also gave birth to Sexism, Racism, and Finitude, but these she ate, like any rodent who finds a deformed pup in her litter. That is why there is equality and unlimited magical energy.

    She is not able to consume every unwholesome element that she gives birth to however, sometimes there are too many at once and sometimes they make her sick, and so things like War, Evil, Murder, and Famine were able to come into the world as well.

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    Olos, the God of Invention and Exploration

    Nicknamed the Fool Scholar by rival cults and affectionately known as The Old Coot by his own, Olos teaches that the pursuit of knowledge is of the utmost importance. He encourages his followers to embrace their sense of curiosity, creativity and fun and spread word of any new discovery or creation - though he does not begrudge those who seek wealth or prestige with their work and so does not require them to do so freely. He is always fascinated by progress and new things but has a habit of forgetting about old or in-progress projects when he gets distracted. In many ways he is very much the archetypal scatter-brained professor. He does not hold works of science or grand treatises of natural history any higher than a child chasing fireflies for the first time or a beggar dumpster diving. All that matters is that you seek the new with gusto and joy.

    He is best described as a Chaotic Tries-to-be-Good deity with the Forge and Knowledge (maybe Arcana too?) Domains. He is always portrayed as a kindly but unkempt, older man. Sometimes he looks like the kind of man who has seen rough times but kept himself fit and strong over long, weary travels. Others, he looks like a mad man with tufts of white hair pointing in every direction from a face covered in soot. His realm is a disorganized, library/workshop of impossible architecture (think M. C. Escher's Relativity taken up to eleven, and in need of a good decluttering). Legend portrays him as wandering the cosmos to find new, interestingly shaped rocks as much as they do his creating artifacts of such power that the other gods tremble at their mere mention. He occasionally pops up whenever a mortal creates something of particular interest so he can talk about it - loudly and at length. He has brought rising minds, brave explorers and neglected artists to great prominence in this way. It is also how he foiled the plots of several mad wizards who were plotting to use secret creations for terrorist plots. It's not clear if Olos understood that these creations were intended for mass-murder or if he just thought they were really cool and wanted others to know about the really cool thing.

    Some credit him with the creation of the gnomes as an homage to the creation of the dwarves. The dwarves and their gods... were not amused. They did not appreciate being the inspiration for this race of small, weak people who were so enthusiastic it bordered on reckless. While they wouldn't say it to a gnome's face, they do find them to be, well, silly and if there is one thing a dwarf isn't it's silly. The dwarves largely shun Olos and his teachings, probably because of their penchant for discipline and utilitarian outlook. Oh, and it might also have to do with Olos leading a large expedition of dwarven followers into the Underdark and then... ummm, misplacing them - which, following a few generations of of slavery and torture, lead to the creation duergar. But who would hold a grudge over such things?

    Most gnomes don't believe that Olos created them, but they do think that he probably forgot whether or not he did himself and having as many deities think they are your race's patron as possible is a good thing - probably - so they're happy to propagate the myth. The gnomes do have a genuine sweet spot for The Old Coot though, and share his delight and curiosity. One of the most sizable groups of worshipers he has would probably be the Plane-touched. Tieflings, Aasimar, Genasi among others who have become disillusioned with life often find meaning and contentment in The Old Coot's teachings. His emphasis on exploration and their unusual heritage often means that the Plane-touched are the perfect choice to lead some inter-planar expeditions. Coincidentally, these inter-planar excursions are the origin of many Plane-touched.

    The temples of Olos serve as repositories for knowledge, theories, art and trinkets that the cult have made or collected over the years. While The Old Coot may need to learn the lesson himself a few thousand more times before it sticks, his mortal followers have figured out that keeping a forge or alchemical lab next to stacks of valuable and flammable texts isn't the best idea. They try to maintain or at least support such places - but at an appropriate distance from the temple. In place of more typical sermons, the cult hosts regular exhibitions of their members' works as well as meetings for everyone to share the things they learned and discuss them with each other. These need not be academic things, and in some places the term "viral" has been used to describe the spread of amusing but insignificant stories from congregation to congregation in the cult of Olos. The Old Coot doesn't seem to have a problem with this phenomenon and is said to show up to have a good laugh when a new one crops up.

    It is said that Olos became infatuated with Aunaxxordh when she created the dwarven kingdom. He never had the patience or stubbornness to create such a thing and found her invention fascinating. So the story goes, he sporadically remembers his crush and attempts to woe the eternal queen of the dwarves. This rarely goes well as he tends to forget that she is a woman and addresses her as a man. Not that Olos would care either way of course.

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    He was once a mortal. A half-elf, if such a designation still matters. He wanted to know how things work.

    Born the bastard of an elven adventurer and a washerwoman, the lad would have lived and died anonymously had it not been for one day outside an apothdcary's shop. The boy had come to watch an illusionist's act, and was mimicing the motions of the stage artist who used cantrips to augment his routine. Untrained, the boy was plucking at the strings of power with his immitation.

    The apothecary trained the boy, encouraging his curiosity and teaching him the higher art of wizardry. The boy traveled the four lands, sometimes in the company of adventurers, sometime alone. He built his shop at a major crossroad town, crafting magic items to fund his experiments. He had begun attempting to learn how the whole world worked.

    Which lead him to discover that his was a minor world in a tiny pocket universe which was guarded by a deity who had discovered it, abandoned and dying. She had rejuvinated the world, but that had drawn enemies: demons who devoured small, undefended dimensions. She had learned how to seal the world from them, but that required someone on the inside to assume control while she created the external barrier.

    Sam'an'dil and a group of adventurers selected by the deity were given the power of gods in the realm, which was altered by her barrier. The pocket dimension became a full dimension on its own.

    Sam'an'dil loved books in life and had created a significant library before his transformation. Thus his domain became a vast library which was composed of every book repository in his world. Its aisles form a trackless maze of bookshelves and scroll racks tended by silent, grey robed librarians, each carrying a book chained to his waist which records his life before they died.

    The clerics of The Librarian built vast libraries and universities, spreading knowledge around the world as it recovered from the cataclysm that altered their world and gave them new gods.

    Not content with learning everything about his world, Sam'an'dil learned how the barrier worked, and how to transit it safely. In the infinity of the multiverse even a god's appetite can be fed infinitely, and Sam'an'dil is now known on thousands of worlds where his clerics know him only as a personified book upon the pages of which are written the word of their god.

    When clerics of his faith seek Devinitions or cast Contact Other Plane, the questions are written into a book and the answers are written using the same quill and ink by the Librarian.

    With every new fact discovered and scribed his library grows. He can, at will, be in any or several libraries known to him at any time. His clerics carry a book into which the events of their daily lives are recorded, and The Librarian knows the contents of all of them.

    Followers are expected to perform research, but many crafts from bookbinder to paper-maker serve the temples of the Librarian. Such craftsmen are encouraged to mastery of their craft in order that they may produce more and more durable books.

    Their temples are libraries, schools, and universities.

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    Cusvor
    "The Crow That Pecks Upon That Which Was Yet Is"; "The Double-Ghoul"
    (Neutral Neutral)
    Cusvor is an enormous semi-divine crow monster invoked as an apotropaic against the undead due to the fact that he feeds on the undead. He is also more abstractly a bringer of progress as he consumes "undead" concepts and traditions - ones that continue despite having outlived their purpose - as well.

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    Cry me a river...
    Along the shores of a certain river there is a goddess who presides over late adolescence and young adulthood. She is eternally in her late teens and is every teen girl's friend. She is also responsible for the river's occasional flooding whenever her on-again-off-again boyfriend breaks up with her or cheats on her and her tears swell the river beyond it's banks. It's the clergy's job to calm her down when the flooding gets dangerous. Conversely it's the duty her boyfriend's disreputable clergy of bros and dudes to get him to cheat in times of drought so that the crops don't fail.





    Bridges of bodies/Nine chains to the moon...
    Necrostructor is the name given by some to one of the elder evils. He destroys all life on the planets where he is active. After killing everything on a world he travels to the next by building a crude vertical tower from the dead bodies which reaches into the heavens and eventually becomes a bridge reaching all the way from the latest planet he's destroyed to the next planet he is going to destroy



    .

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    Just rememnered a character that Shadow Archmagi made up in the How Might the Players Locate the Black Market (Fantasy Setting) thread that sounds like they might be a demigod:

    Quote Originally Posted by shadow_archmagi View Post
    Option 2, AKA "This should be one session"
    PC: "I'd like to sell these illegal goods on the black market"
    DM: "Shifty Dan, who you saved from bees last session, says that all crime in this town is controlled by John Crime, who invented it. He'll only buy your illegal goods once he respects you."

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    Prythian Oloson and The Sailing City

    Prythian was once a gnome tinkerer and inventor who wanted to help feed his village. He devised a new method of net-fishing and was successful in turning it into a profitable business. But fish stocks began to decline, and soon he was back where he started.

    He took his fishing gear out into deeper water and though the fishers had to search harder, their catch increased. To prevent spoilage he decided to build a factory-ship which would process the catch from smaller boats and load the preserved fish onto trading skiffs for sale in coastal markets.

    The factory ships got larger, and were serviced by more fishing boats, which returned to land ports only for maintenance and crew rotation. The time away from home caused families to join their parents and spouses, and the factory ships grew to accomodate them.

    When Prythian linked seven factory-ship hulls together he created the first floating town. In time it turned into a city which served the factory ships and was a trading hub for merchant ships of many lands, linking nations by trade which had no direct knowledge of one another.

    But Prythian wasn't done.

    He created the Iron Fish, a small boat capable of exploring the deep ocean floors.

    He invented sponge-farming.

    He invented the diving suit for deep dives, and the gill suit for shallow dives.

    He invented pearl-stimulation in oysters.

    He invented undersea habitats.

    He invented shark repellant.

    He also invented many simple items and devices which make life at sea easier, including the ratcheting windlass and the windmill driven propulsion screw which powers the floating city.

    Every seagoing culture in the world has been impacted by the many inventions of Prythian, no matter how distant they are from the routes of the floating city.

    Kwalish was his apprentice.

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    The Mystery God

    Not much is known about the mystery god, except that he has a mystery cult. However even the initiates don't know much about him. At each new level of initiation it is revealed to the initiate that this level doesn't know anything either, until eventually the initiate understands that they must know that they know nothing.

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    Dita, the Goddess of Lost and Forgotten Things

    When the gods were divvying up the cosmos between them, Dita was the smallest and weakest of the divine. She had no allies to aid her and she was left largely with nothing. In the aftermath of the scramble for domains, some deities tried to steal from or sidle into others' territories but Dita lacked the power to do this. She feared that she would become a dead god, but it seems that when one starts from such a low point, the decline is a soft one. She lingered for eons, a barely present entity at the edge of reality, watching the comings and goings of mortals, spirits and divinities. Then, clever and observant Dita, noticed that the gods of fire had not claimed the blue part of the flame from a tallow candle. It was tiny, and largely meaningless, but she made it hers. She finally felt the slightest echoes of worship as some of the flame gods' devout directed their prayers to tallow candles and what little fell on the blue heart became hers. It was so nearly nothing, but it was infinitely more than she had before.

    Reinvigorated, Dita went in search of unclaimed aspects of the cosmos. She claimed short-swords whose blades had never drawn blood. She claimed terrible-tasting elven wine. She claimed the waste created by lapidarists when cutting gems. She claimed countless specific little things that no other deity seemed to care about. And Dita was shocked, for she found herself strong. She found herself filled not with the echoes of worship to the other gods, but rather worship of her own. She could not fathom where it was coming from. Yet when she turned to the world of mortals, she saw that it was true. The conscripted soldier whose unit had yet to be forced under the enemy's blade who felt like a nameless face at the whim of aristocratic officers. The adolescent half-elven street urchin trying to drink their troubles away with the vintner's rejected stock. The artisan duergar's slave who cleans up after her master cuts gems. All of these people felt connection to the discarded, disregarded and dismissed things of the world. By their very nature, these things and these people had been overlooked by the gods. They had reached out to experience the sacred only to find nothing for them there as there was in life. It was then that Dita's heart broke at their suffering and she knew who she was. She was not a parasite of the divine. She was not a god of other gods' scraps. She was the Goddess of Lost and Forgotten Things. And her followers were legion.

    She reached out to her newfound domain and found her very first acquisition, the blue part of the flame of a tallow candle, and felt the presence of a young scribe. He was working well into the night by candle-light to make enough copies of the king's propaganda pamphlets. He stared into flame, mesmerized by it's blue center as he could not bring himself to write another word and knew what failing to reach quota would mean. He had nothing and no one, and was finally ready to give up on himself as everyone else had. Dita knew this feeling, knew it all too well, and so she appeared to him through the blue crown of the wick. He became her very first cleric and together... they burned down the scriptorium. The First Cleric, whose name - as seems appropriate - has been forgotten to all outside of her priesthood, was sent on a mission from his new patron Goddess. He traveled to the field of battle and found the soldier who had yet to draw blood. They united both armies and lead them in rebellion against their nations' heartless leaders. He sailed for months across the sea to the Elven Isles and found the half-elven urchin on the cusp of adulthood. They stole every coin in the vintner's guild's vaults and started an orphanage the half-elf ran. He delved deep into the Underdark and found the duergar's slave girl. She was a waif of a thing, a young deep gnome, yet she proved herself to be Dita's first paladin and smote the monsters that had haunted her for years. She joined the First Cleric and together they spread more seeds of the cult of Dita across the world. They took the blue heart of the tallow candle's light as their symbol, referred to as the Burning Teardrop by worshipers.

    The other gods had forgotten Dita in the eons since the creation of the cosmos and she is eager to keep things this way. She has no interest in presenting herself to the gods and chastising them for their arrogance and negligence. No, Dita is interested in staying forgotten and working to bring the mighty gods low from the shadows. Her cult operates under in many sects which worship deities under as many pseudonyms. Following the two armies' rebellion, the cult of the Uncutting Blade was formed. In the Elven Isles, orphans are cared for under the patronage of priests of the Sober Father. The slavers in the Underdark still whisper in fear about the vigilantes call the Gemdust Scourers. Some sects of Dita's cult pretend to be cults of Lishon to avoid discovery. Across the world these sects operate under different rituals and use different symbols, but they all recognize the true symbol of the their cult - the Burning Teardrop.

    All of them maintain some public persona and a very secret operation. The cult of the Uncutting Blade preaches that people should turn away from any system that asserts itself with violence while secretly funneling resources into rebellions around the globe. The cult of the Sober Father raises orphans and survives off of "donations" some of which come from well meaning civilians but most come from heists that former wards pull off - having been trained as thieves and con men in the orphanage - making the cult of the Sober Father one of the wealthiest sects though they feign being poor. The Gemstone Scourers take issue with slavers of course and they have been waging a gradual war of attrition on the drow, duergar and illithids for a long time but they are also using their excursions to access lost artifacts and temples in the dangerous caverns of the Underdark, trafficking relics back to the surface so they can strengthen their patron's cults and undermine those of other deities.

    Dita's plans are not known in their entirety to any mortal. Some gods have noticed patterns of change they cannot explain and have sought out the cause. Only a couple have come close and they were mysteriously silenced. Some might say that one day they were simply... lost to their followers . The network of Dita's worshipers fight for the downtrodden and outcasts but they also seek to sew instability and division in the strongholds of the gods' worship. They manipulate this to chip away at the gods' power and to pit them against each other. They do this slowly, over many centuries, for as the old rituals and relics of power are lost or forgotten, they fall into Dita's domain and her strength grows. One day, it is believed that Dita will leave the gods on the outside as she was. They will be forgotten and all gods will be aspects of Dita in a world where the lost are found and the forgotten are memorialized in song and poetry.
    Last edited by GaelofDarkness; 2018-08-14 at 12:57 AM.

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    Quote Originally Posted by Bohandas View Post
    The Mystery God

    Not much is known about the mystery god, except that he has a mystery cult. However even the initiates don't know much about him. At each new level of initiation it is revealed to the initiate that this level doesn't know anything either, until eventually the initiate understands that they must know that they know nothing.
    Puzzling miracles

    Nobody really knows what the Mystery God wants or what they're after. The Mystery God does not communicate and they do not rely on mortal followers to do their bidding. Instead the mystery god will simply sometimes appear and make a change. Large numbers of people will vanish or appear and sometimes the authorities never figure out what trait connected them. Weather or ecosystems will sudeenly change. Geography will reconfigure itself without warning. Something that nobody's ever heard of will appear in every household overnight or something that everyone uses will vanish. Unlike similar miracles by deities of chaos or trickery these modifications do not seem to be random impulsive caprices nor deliberately calculated to cause trouble. The mystery god simply deals with things in a direct manner (which may be why they keep their identity and nature secret; in many settigs this would violate various divine non-intervention treaties)

    (This article started out with me considering the question of why an almighty deity would need mortals to do its dirty work, but now that I've written it, it occurs to me that tgis guy would also be a good way to retcon things, introduce conflicts, or remove troublesome plot elements)

    .



    And an unrelated bit I came up with about one of the less important official D&D gods

    Chronepsis, rich in knowledge

    Chronepsis, the draconic god of knowledge and time (Draconomicon page 33) sleeps atop an enormous pile of mithril HD-Rosettas containing all the world's history and arcane knowledge

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    Wazimu the Liberator,


    Seen by many as the a god of the disposed, the slaves, and the outsiders Wazimu's name is often considered a curse in high societies. There are no official temples dedicated to the liberator, nor is he frequently featured as a benevolent being in mythological tales. But what many priests and aristocrats see as petulant, unnecessarily hedonistic, and fickle Wazimu's main supporters see as subversive, guile and un tethered. Worshipers of Wazimu frequently gather in the slums on nights of the full moon to hold elaborate yet famously arbitrary rituals while partaking in copious amounts of wine and other hedonistic pleasures. The content of these rituals vary from satirizing the pomp of their social betters, dancing to increasingly frantic music, to the more radical sects sacrificing irksome bureaucrats. Many followers of Wazimu see madness and hedonism as an escape from the drudgery of daily life, tempted by the freedom from enforced obligations.
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    It's a little late to edit my earlier post, but here's my contribution.

    Algos, God of Why

    Twin brother of Olos, Algos chose a different path, but not so very different.

    Algos and his followers seek knowledge, and knowledge only, with little regard for application and invention. He is as lawful ans his brother is chaotic, and as equally good (which is to say, he tries.) Thus, if he were aware of knowledge being sought or used for evil purposes he would be displeased to say the least, he is all to often unaware of it. Although he has little interest in invention, he does appreciate that the inventions of his brother's followers include useful tools for the pursuit of more pure knowledge. Algos and Olos, though the debate frequently and sometimes heatedly, do get along well as friends as well as kin.

    Algos seeks knowledge of all kinds. Although his followers are often those who seek to understand the physical world or arcane arts, they also include scholars of history, politics, and any other academic subject.

    Algos's greatest passion is the the infinite depth of knowledge. Behind every new answer is a new question, if not several of them, and it is holy go on asking forever. Petting a cat leads to sparks: Why? Because an invisible, intangible fluid called "charge" flows from the cat to you hand, and the spark is that charge moving back; but Why? Why does the fluid move to your hand, Why does it jump back, Why do cats possess charge? Why does charge exist? Good kings tend to grow corrupt when they rule for many years: Why? Because their greed grows, but Why? Because they are people, and all people want more than what they have (and kings have the power to take it). But Why do people always want more? Artists like to make images of people and gods more than they do, say, nature scenes or houses: Why? The holiest thing to Algos is to ask Why? (Or How, if that's the more logical question.)

    Like Olos, Algos maintains a vast library, his being well organized and clear of other things like artifacts of invention and creation. He is sometimes heard to deride his brother's library as being not a library at all, but rather a cluttered attic. But he smiles when he says it. As Olos's clerics have learned the benefits of having some degree of organization, the two brothers' temples will sometimes cooperate in maintaining joint libraries.
    -- Joe
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    Quote Originally Posted by Bohandas View Post
    The Mystery God

    Not much is known about the mystery god, except that he has a mystery cult. However even the initiates don't know much about him. At each new level of initiation it is revealed to the initiate that this level doesn't know anything either, until eventually the initiate understands that they must know that they know nothing.
    Also, he can cut guns in half with his mind!

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    "Do not place the offering in my shrine during times of war, for that means that I have failed. Place the offering during times of peace, and I shall be ready for the next."

    -The last lines of the Tome of Battle


    Haftan is the lawful good God of Armies. Whereas most gods of battle find focus on the bloodshed and thrill of battle, Haftan's tenants are much wider, encompassing nobility, ideals of honor, military tactics, spying, and even the economics and agriculture which fund those who fight in war.

    The first tale of Haftan come from his birth, where during a long, bloody battle brought about by Ballaxar, God of War, his big toe was cut off and suddenly changed into a baby. Ballaxar left the child on that battleground, where a pair of old farmers came and took the child in. Haftan grew to be a strong, humble man, but soon left to join a sudden war caused by his father. While in battle, Haftan would take the front line alongside his brothers in arms, and while out of battle, he looked into ways to support the army and protect those under his care. His noble actions would lead him to be knighted, and soon had his own army behind him. Haftan would eventually come to fight Ballaxar in one on one combat, where he would die, merely weakening Ballaxar. Haftan was then carried into the heavens by Valkaries alongside the soldiers that fell in his army, and take his place among gods for his deeds.

    Haftan's shrines are most prominent on old battlegrounds in reverence to both sides of the conflict, the armories of castles so that soldiers may gain his blessings before siege, hospitals that serve soldiers as well as the civilians who are injured in the crossfire, and guilds that fund and arm those who go to war. Although his shrines are often in places where the conflict was or is the most intense, the goals of his worshippers is to end it as quickly as possible, and to support those who would sacrifice their lives for their peers. Clerics of Haftan will often take up the role as battlefield medics in times of war, and in times of peace run orphanages and ranches to help their local communities. Those who are not directly involved in combat also worship Haftan, such as blacksmiths, masons, and fletchers. Haftan also has a strange reverence for cooks and bakers, and it is required for followers to leave a tip for every meal that they order.

    Haftan's favored weapon is the halberd, and his symbol is a blue shield emblazoned with a rising sun.
    Last edited by DuctTapeKatar; 2018-09-02 at 07:16 PM.
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    Prophetic Professor

    Elowjan Ohkonow, the god of knowledge and learning, is responsible for making sure that all the lost arts and sciences and histories that fantasy settings seem to have in droves don;t stay lost and hidden. To this end he tutors people through shared prophetic dreams. This is hampered somewhat by the nature of dreams, as many arrive to his lectures late and without pants. He also gives worthy people directions to the locations of lost tomes, lost cities, and other lost things of interest.

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    Quote Originally Posted by DuctTapeKatar View Post
    Haftan is the lawful good God of Armies...

    [D]uring a long, bloody battle brought about by Ballaxar, God of War, his big toe was cut off and suddenly changed into a baby...

    While in battle, Xiphias would take the front line...
    Who is Xiphias?
    -- Joe
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    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    DuctTapeKatar's Avatar

    Join Date
    May 2016
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    Idaho isn't a real state.
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    Default Re: Deities and Legends for Everyone

    Quote Originally Posted by jqavins View Post
    Who is Xiphias?
    Crap. I went through a couple names. Must've missed it.

    Edit: fixed
    Last edited by DuctTapeKatar; 2018-09-02 at 07:17 PM.
    "My new favorite spell is Ice Knife, because it is a throwing knife made from ice, and a grenade."

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