[a / b / c / d / e / f / g / gif / h / hr / k / m / o / p / r / s / t / u / v / vg / w / wg] [i / ic] [r9k] [cm / hm / y] [3 / adv / an / cgl / ck / co / diy / fa / fit / hc / int / jp / lit / mlp / mu / n / po / pol / sci / soc / sp / tg / toy / trv / tv / vp / x] [rs] [status / ? / @] [Settings] [Home]
Settings   Home
/tg/ - Traditional Games

I am thinking of making a setting.

Low fantasy where magic is present but rare and usually granted by the gods.

There are the big gods in their fine temples, worshiped by millions, unearthly powerful and feared by all.

But there are also the the small gods. Gods of the outcast, rejected, exiled and unwanted.

They have temples in remote forest clearings, at the back of remote caves, deep in the trackless swamps and other hidden and forgotten places.

They demand less than the other gods. They tend not to have much in the way of holy writ and hardly have clearly defined commandments. They are less high and mighty, their miracles tend to be few, far between and weak. They tend to be more giving in terms of blessing their followers with magic so they can do it on their own.

The big gods generate close knit circles of powerful wizards. The small ones have legions of little sorcerers.

The afterlives they promise are not great. Not awful, but not great.

So far I have:

The Morrigan - Probably the most powerful of them and possibly the last survivor of a defeated pantheon. She wants to be a goddess of bountiful harvests, sex and fertility. Sadly she is a cold hearted bitch with a vicious streak a mile wide who revels in battle. You water the ground with blood of her enemies and you get a good harvest. Her biggest redeeming feature is a tendency to be really protective about her followers. She watches the world through the eyes of the crows. He afterlife is an endless temperate forest.

Baron Samedi - A low powered death god. Escorts the dead from this world to the next. Sometimes gets lost because slightly drunk but gets there eventually. Has an inappropriate sense of humor but can be charming. Can be summoned with booze or something to smoke. Sometimes teaches death based magics if in a good mood. Willing to turn a blind eye if you got important enough shit to do in this world and just need a little more time.
File: 197E NAGA SKULL 1.jpg (15 KB, 656x379)
15 KB
YES YES. I like this very much.
So is this a real world setting or Fantasy?
I like this.
File: the morrishan.jpg (229 KB, 800x897)
229 KB
229 KB JPG

I'm just shamelessly stealing interesting things from reality if there is any hope of building a pantheon out of them.

My imagination sucks ball today.

Varnieria is a protector, her shield and her armor were forged from a dead star and was said to be inpenetrable.

Even with such prowess she fell not because she was brought low but because she could not bare to leave her children unguarded.

With time her protective nature turned to jealous obession. She will hold you tight but she demands the upmost loyalty and attention. Forever will she embrace you but scorn her for but a moment and she will leave you.

Those who worship her have her arms tattoed on their chest and must take a vow to never love any but her to recieve her blessings in life and battle
I like it.

Does she offer any sort of afterlife?
Fuck it, I'll try my hand at one.


Old Grammos, god of hunter's past their prime. Used to be the prideful god of the hunt, when the new god beat him at his own game. A man who's life's work is crushed becomes miserable, but defeating a god at his own game destroys the soul like nothing humanity will ever know.

A little light died in his eyes that day.

He's become more understanding since his youth. His magic offers a little less pain in the joints, and sight that, while not as good as it was when you were younger, is still good enough to do what you love. He even takes in people who weren't hunters, becoming a sort of patron for skilled old men.

His symbol is a hawk with light blue eyes. Somehow, the hawk's eyes seem to express what Old Grammos is feeling at the moment. Usually it's a soft sadness, though should the eyes look upon a man in anger, he shall feel the vengeance of the aged, who though weakened by time, make up for that in skill.

His afterlife is a village surround by forest. Sure, it looks just like the one you left, it's no fairyland, but at least you don't have that limp anymore.

The wife's here, too. She's been waiting for you.

forgot to make one

Those who are faithful and who's love for Varnieria is great enough they are taken upon death and their souls cast into an orb she forged from her own shield for only she wields the knowledge to work this strange and inpenetrable metal.

Forever more least her jealousy rages so great you are embraced in the arms of your goddess. The warmth of her embrace can turn to bitter coldness and red-hot fury and the times these last can very from mere moments to what feels like an eternity.

Such is the fate of those who love Vaneira.
File: Glass Spider.jpg (113 KB, 554x491)
113 KB
113 KB JPG

It may have been the guardian of some now annexed underworld or it may have been some sort of weaver of fate, nobody is all that sure any more.

Nobody is entirely sure how intelligent it is.

It seems to bring luck. Dice land better when it is near which is a good way of detecting it.

It seems to be able to alter the laws of probability to some degree.

Usually looks like a spider made of glass.

Sometimes it can lead you to interesting things if you are prepared to follow the silk threads it leaves behind.

It doesn't require offerings, it can't be summoned and it asks for nothing. It turns up when it wants to and where ever it feels like. Never shown signs of overt hostility although people do sometimes trip over its threads.

If it ever had a proper name it has long since been forgotten.
Cool idea OP. Samedi sounds like my kind of god-bro. Might try my hand at making one later.

God of servants. Has faithfully accompanied and aided the royalty of the Gods for aeons, but with the demise of pantheon after pantheon s/he has been cast aside by more modern deities, and is without purpose.

S/he always appears as the person you most need, and if you are granted an audience then some aid is always given, although it may not be immediately useful.

Duty, loyalty, tidiness and punctuality are sought after traits and rewarded.

S/he may be worshipped at small altars or shrines, often overshadowed by more decadent and glorious buildings; concealed behind unobtrusive, plain doors marked with the symbol of the faith.

Afterlife is an eternity in a large, warm, well stocked kitchen and cellar with other souls. It is always 10 o' clock at night, or a public holiday.
File: Frostbitten.jpg (782 KB, 3000x2400)
782 KB
782 KB JPG

Ages ago, he was a powerful and skilled Warrior God. That changed when he was killed.

Gods don't die like mortals though. If someone believes in them, they will rise again.

In this case, the one who believed in him was a young warrior about to embark on his first battle. Full of fear and dread his prayer reached out to Caliban and brought him back. Caliban, grateful, stilled the young warrior's nerves and gave him courage and the magic to inspire his comrades. The Warrior died in the battle, but helped turn the tide of the war singlehandedly, rallying his men and slaying the enemy commanders.

He is only summoned in the eve before battle, when fear and despair gnaw in the pit of your belly. He will make you an offer. Those who take it become truly amazing commanders but their death immediately draws closer.

Sometimes, you might see him, sitting on a mound of the dead on a battlefield at night. He will sharpen his greatsword while looking at the stars.
File: ritual_by_caiomm-d5xoqqw.jpg (243 KB, 1024x1489)
243 KB
243 KB JPG
Mordercia, the Blood dragon.

Dragons have a known tendency towards greed, and this is true for Mordercia. But it is not gold that he hungers for, but the bloodshed of battle. Should you give him your worship, the enemies you slay becomes your sacrifices, your battlefields becomes his altars, and in return for the mighty you slay he bestows might unto you.

There is a catch though.

For Mordercia is truly a greedy one, and once you start giving he wants more. The numbers you slay isn't what matters, for Mordercia revels in the blood of great heroes, warlords and monster, and for each mighty for you slay, he demands a more powerful sacrifice. Should you fail in meeting his demands, the power he grants will be lost, along with some of your own might, and if no other god is willing to protect you, he will devour your soul upon your death, condemming you to a helish existance in his fiery belly along with the other warmongers too seek his power in the past and fail. It is said that those that dedicate the ultimate sacrifice of might, the slaying of a dragon, in Mordercia name is granted a place in his personal guard upon their deaths.

How'd I do? I tried to just pick a picture and improvise from there, didn't really take my time to think it through.
I really like the idea of an old man god, I'll have to incorporate that in one of my settings sometime. Also, your writing did generate a slight emotional response, so good work on the writing there.

I like the mysteri of this one. With so many of the small gods being forgotten ones, to have a few that almost nothing is known about makes sense.

This guy is pretty cool. It's rare to see a sacrifice-narrative not directly painted as evil, as he seems more a god of the desperate than the power-hungry.
File: Nito.jpg (336 KB, 600x425)
336 KB
336 KB JPG

Godhead of the Lost and Forgotten

Ironicaly, few worship Vol outside of dedicated orders and cults as he/she (The god is often depicted as a mere mass of rags, bones, muck or detritus with no clear gender) is an unsavoury idol. Vol once was a great being of charisma and joy when the world was young and no soul was outcast from society. However, as the years went on and humanity became less kind, Vol became stern and sincere as each mortal that died with no legacy (e.g. a work of art, a family, a memory or any other meaningful impact on anyone in the mortal realm) on the world became a burden on it's back. Now, Vol is buried by the rags and bones and souls of the near countless abandoned, its careless youth crushed beneath its duty to the lost.

The few followers of Vol are split into two main parties; Those of the Void, and Those of the Burden. The former specialise in wanton destruction of legacies like families, buildings, even whole towns and societies in order that Vol may grow ever more massive and consume the pantheon. The later, aim to rid Vol of it's burden by carrying physical mementos of any forsaken dead on their person so that, whilst they still draw breath, those souls are still remembered in some small way.

These groups keep themselves tucked away in country backwaters, derelict settlements or in the dark depths of cities. Whilst there are rumours that those who worship Vol dabble in Necromancy, no one has found conclusive proof one way or the other.

Disclaimer: Currently RPing as a Cleric of the Burden in my playgroup's Dungeon World run.
File: Ug_Qualtoth_close_up.png (793 KB, 924x1044)
793 KB
793 KB PNG
U̘̫̺̼ͮg̘̞̫̃̄ ͉̈ͩͯ̏̈́ͪQ͐̅ͧ̐ͧ̂u͈͈ͫͮͣ͋ͬa̙̩͕͉̫ͭ̈̆̐̄ͭ̚l̬̼̄̆̆̊͒ͭͭt̖͇̝̯̱̳͕͂̈́̏͆̐́o̘̩̩͚̿̾̑ͪ̆̃̿ť͈̏̚h͈̙̻̬̰̺̍ͤ̂̒͛
͍̻̠̉̒́ͥ̓O̫̲̗̯ͨ̇ͦ̔ň̹̱̬̟̜͛̅e͔̮̠̦͔͍͂̋̉ͫͣ ̯̜o̮͙̥͕ͫ̾f̖̖͔͎͚̳̋̒̋͋͑ͭ͛ ̮̤͇̓̌̉u͙̜̪ͩ̋̂̊͋s̖̳ͯ͌ͯͥ,͕̥̯̈͑̇ͥ̈ ̯̖̣̩͆̓̈ͭ̇̇ͥo̫̿̂̉͌n͗͑e̬͚͒ͩ ̦̠̯ͯ̇͌̚o̓ͅf͓̬̼̀ͪ ͉̀̔ͥ̇u͔͚̭̤̼͒ͯ͂̇̎s̽.̣̩̩ͫ͂͂̎͑H͖͙̗̱̯͉e̾ͫ̈ͦ͛̋ ͙͔i̯͑̽̍̆̌̏s̬̣͉̎͑ͧͨ ̬̗̪̣̹̻̻ͭ͌ͣ̐ͧt̩̆͋̊̇ͣh̫̩̩̳̫e̘̚ ̭̩̤̈́̄̌͋ͭ͋G̠̤͉a͔͓͚̱̣̘͙̽t͑̅e͍̪̙ͭ̀̎̀̏̎ ̤̦͓ͦͩ͛̚a͓͊̉͂̋̌ͅn̝̖ͪ͛d͙̖̿̆ ̟ͧ̎t̜͇̓̌h̻̜͚̫̜͖͓ͩ̈́ͭẹ͔̜̊̈́̊͋ ̲͖̖̼̮ͪ̐͐̓͊̈́ͨG̺͕̤̘̈́̍̌a̱̞̯̙t̳̭̪̗͓̘̫̒̂ͪ̈̿̋e̤̬͈͚̣̔̾ͨ ͓̟ͥ̐͒K͖̹̺̜̦̼͇ͦ̔ͫe̝e͚͙̫̬ͩ̐̊pͬ͊̾ͦͨe̝̿̒r̖̩͍͙̳̣͗̂̉.̻̺̥̅̈́ͨ͑ ̒̈́͐̐G̖͖ͦ̍̎ǔ̯̥̠̙͈̇͋̎̂a̝̪̤̖͎͖̋̎͛̓ͨ͑̌ͅr̳̤̽̇d͇͇̗̞̜̖̫ ̱͚̻͐̀ͧͬͩ̈o̘̫̗̱̳̹̗̓ͧ̾̓͛f̦̠͔͔̗̌͌̆͋̏ ̾ͬ͂̃̾ͪ̊ͅp̺̝͉͔̜͉͐l̹̻̟̦͖̞̏͐a͎̙̤͉ͦͫ̅̈́c̞̏̉̈́́e̼͌ͬͨͧ ͖̗͉̗̫͗ͩ͗̔̑ͮ͛wͥ̋ḧ̰e̬r͍͇̹̫̮͉̫e̻͇͉̫̬ ͓̠̗̓͒̈̂̆̊n̲ͩò͙̜͇̿ͦ͒ ̜͇ͥp̰l̉͗͌͐͊̿a͙c̻̱̲̿̈́̓̓ͦͯe͎̗̞ͮ̍̂ͣ ̤e̻̐ͬ̾xͫ̂ͪ̍ͤỉ̻̠̟͛̽ͫš̘̣͍͇̫̲̪̏ṫ̪̜̽͂̅̽̓͊ͅe͈̤͚̬d̃ͯͭͨ̔̃̅ ̥̠̐̊̍̓̌̍̃i͇̙͉̗͗͛̿̍ͪn̦̲͙̿̍̒ ͎̳̺͉̩͖̖ͥ͒̍t͚̜ͧͯ̏̆́h̖͇̮ͥ̌̋̉̈́ͬe̥̘͍͈̝̿͆͛ ̬̺͙͔̱̱̄̃̇̏̿ͩv͔̄̄͐͑e̗̞̬̩̖r̗͓̅̊s̫͖̺e͆̾̽s̱̭̼̰̳̘͐̾ ͙̣o̥̤̳̙̭̾ͯf͇͔͈̈́ͬ̌̓̂ͭ ͎̲̖̱̫̟̤̓̑͂͌ͪͣ͋K̫̜̰̪̃͊ͪ͊̊n̝ͫ̽ͯ̐ͪi͈͕̗͆̿ͩ̅̋v̮ͮ͐̎̾̂b̗͚͓̲̱̣e̍ͨr̝̟̠̥͓ͧͦͅe̥̟̩̫̪ͬ́ͥ̈͒ḫ͍͋̚.̫̭͖̳̝̯̲̔ͪ́͒ͮ̀ͭ
Seeing as not much is known about Vol, I thought it best to talk a little bit more about its followers. Hope that's alright.
Personally I found the thing about the opposed vorishipers a very interesting take on the god of duality-theme.

I'ts a real shame I need to sleep, this thread has generated some great ideas so far.
File: Gnome yell.jpg (13 KB, 253x199)
13 KB
Super like this thread, will contribute once I find suitably inspiring art!
Since I like contributions, I'll post random art and challenge passerbys to write up gods for them.
File: Bird_Priest_by_ursulav.jpg (134 KB, 550x750)
134 KB
134 KB JPG
Enough for now, hoping for some cool contributions.
Zvyren, God of Dreams and Visions, Lord of the Dream World
(Pictured in the background)

A terribly cursed deity, Zvyren is powerless, formless and without witting mortal followers in the regular pantheon. However, when any being dreams, or has a vision (they can be brought on by anything from a spiritual epiphany to a hallucinogenic binge) they enter a world aside from that of both Gods and Mortals. Zvyrens Dream World is a chaotic, untamed mess of the surreal and symbolic. It is in this realm that Zvyren is absolute God, forging whatever he wants, becoming whatever he wishes and foretelling whatever he deems fit through his omniscience in this plane. Unfortunately, all this power dissolves when the sun arises as Zvyrens potency in the Dream World diminishes as fewer mortals inhabit the Dream World until he is forced out of the shrinking realm to re-join the other immortals in the pantheon. This cycle continues indefinitely and, aside from those drug fiends who stupor through life, dozing nearly infinitely in the Dream World regardless of whether the god is present or not, Zvyren is all but forgotten by mortals and peers alike.

No temple worships him and his name cannot be found on many a religious register. The silent shade of a dusty sunbeam (what he looks like in the pantheon) is disregarded by all other Gods who have seen neither the Dream World nor Zvyrens power there.

If you are one of the few to know Zvyrens existence and wish to summon or convene with him, you first must enter the Dream World whilst it is large enough so that the god can enter. Once there, if your will to meet him is strong and evident enough, Zvyren will bestow a vision onto you that you must conquer in order to gain an audience from him (effectively he throws an nightmare made real at your face).
The Enamara

The Enamara represents an odd reversal among the pantheons of the outcast: a greater spirit who ascended to godhood. It formerly scoured the heavily wooded foothills of the Arake mountains, plucking lost souls to add to its dullish plume. Over time, legends and mythos were built around it, and the region it inhabited was labeled hallowed ground.
Some humans built settlements within the caves overlooking the forest, laying offering to the Enamara in the form of colorful cloth and feathers, that it would use them as plumage and spare the lives of its devotees. The spirit was empowered by this worship and began, whether consciously or reactively, increasing the latent magical abilities of those who followed it. These became the priests, as seen here >>33919342, and they deified the Enamara as a wandering god, seeking to restore vibrancy and wonder to a grey and apathetic world.
However, a schism developed between the followers. Those who saw it as a bringer of passion and inspiration >>33919228, the Enariates, were opposed by a newer splinter sect who wished to preserve its identity as a vigilant keeper of the surrounding woods >>33919374 and called themselves the Marathi. The Enamara was unable to act as both protector and provoker, and thus underwent an odd form of divine mitosis. The two beings, Ena and Mara, patroned their respective worshippers, and fought for domain over the woods and mountains. After seven years of religious conflict and over a thousand dead (note that this was still a relatively local phenomenon which was mostly ignored by neighboring kingdoms), the stronger terrestrial connection of the Marathi forced the Enariates, and Ena, to a new conclave on the valley beyond, a dryer and harsher region where they survived as nomads.
The Marathi remained a small woodland peoples, while the Enariates became bards, mercenaries, and nomadic pastoralists, spreading their culture and deity to the western kingdoms they encountered.
A small god that dreams big, cool.
However, assuming a normal sphericla word, is it not always night, and thus dreamers, somewhere?

Acceding gods is an interesting topic as well, that rarely gets touched upon in fantasy.

Also, to both of the above, what of the afterlife?
Gavahst, Overbeing of Doubt

Doubt is an emotion few wish to experience, and fewer still would desire to worship. But it, as all aspects of existence, is not without a deity to oversee it.
Gavahst has ruled over the worries and second-guesses of sentient beings since time immemorial, but only with great difficulty will one find a temple dedicated to her.
I, in my travels through the Mwonvuli Jungle, discovered such a temple in the center of a large tropical lake, carved of archaic stone and largely shunned by the local tribes. I inquired of the chieftain what the temple was for, and he said simply that it was "the first step in a journey through all one's mistakes." Later, I took a small boat over to the island with my interpreter, and was greeted by an aging priestess, apparently one of only three attendants to the shrine. The columned halls were silent and dreary, and the priestess explained that the very nature of her worship was to bring worry and discomfort. If its temple is any measure, Gavahst is highly skilled at doing so.
She was inscribed in the pantheon of the natives, but was known mostly for the feats of her greatest disciple, Uhneke the Mariner, who credited Gavahst for teaching him to reconsider each and every decision, earning him renown as a master strategist and logician.
When a person dies is the time in which Gavahst is truly important. There, she acts as passenger on a rickety, worn boat steered and operated by the deceased. The tides grow treacherous, and the boat rocks and shudders, but the soul must hold it afloat to cross the sea and reach the afterlife. While sailing, the deceased is confronted by the souls of those who died before them, chiding them on their faults, from the smallest error to the most fatal of follies. Those who learn to accept their doubts and mistakes pass through unharmed and reach eternity. Those who fail drown in the endless currents, wandering the sea that borders heaven as a tormented soul.
Caretaker Lud'Quith god of Knowledge and persuasion

Once he held a great library that contained almost all the Knowledge in the world was kept and could be gained by anyone willing too trade Knowledge equal too or greater too what they seeked however lost his power and milleniums of Knowledge when he angered a Greater lord of fire

Little of what he held remains and is now assists his few followers charms that can convince some too do what you ask however he always demands a price

Yea not that great but hey this guy should be great for a plot hook
Ah, sorry, my fault. I was thinking that this was a sort of single continent type world where half the rest of the planet has yet to be colonised. In that case, Zvyren would be a tormented entity that was being constantly phased between Dream World and the pantheon as his metaphysical self struggles to keep the Dream World constantly active for the dreamers.
Also, afterlife? To Zvyren, mortals are just tiny dots that visit Dream World, when one dies it is replaced with another dot. He cares not and knows not where souls go if they do not reside in Dream World.
The afterlife of the followers of Ena is not touched on often, as they prefer to live in the moment and take life as it comes. But since Ena is but one in a pantheon they worship, such matters are handled by their respective gods. What I did find in my travels was that the Enariates bury their dead in large, raised platforms, decorating their pyres with bright clothes and trinkets of their life before burning the body. Perhaps they believe this will allow them to pass on their inspiration to the family? I do not know, as they were silent on their burial rites. As for the Marathi, they are buried within the ancestral woods that Mara guards, becoming another soul in its plumage to empower it, while the body is absorbed into the land of its birth. It is a very naturalistic cycle to them.
Well I'm not OP, just asking out of curiosity. Interesting answers though. One scenario could be that the world started out colonised on only one size, but as the people spread further and wider Zvyren became more stretched and tormented and thus fell in power?
File: Wan Shi Tong.png (126 KB, 333x250)
126 KB
126 KB PNG
Mal"Vord Kourocent Gahund Poulik and Wurop The echos of Fate

Once they were the great Masters and Mistresses of fate but one by one they were defeated and replaced and those who replaced them were replaced in turn

Now mere shadows of what they once were they have decided better too ally with there own worst enemys then too entirely waste away, There blessings are few and far between due too the diffculty in changing fate and the amount of power lost when they were removed however once in a lifetime the are capable of overriding the fate of a mortal anything from a unwanted marriage too someone doomed too die on the battlefield

Kinda stuck on what there sacrifices should be and afterlife
You know i was not thinking of him when i wrote that but for some reason he fits extreamly well
File: xPZnMEB.jpg (39 KB, 500x570)
39 KB
Gurta and Xull, God of those Betwixt.
Gurta and Xull where once the gods of Mothers and Fathers. Bestowing insight and will to the parents of man. For some reason unknown they where cast from the Pantheon, left with only each other in the darkness. There they found the children, alone and without care and they wept. They wept for those they ignored and those they forgot, vowing to bless and protect these orphans.
Those who grew in their embrace and follow them their whole life will often find comfort in hardship and shelter in the storm.
People who pass whilst dedicated to Gurta and Xull will find themselves children again, this time in the realm of their gods. A comfortable, cozy home, surrounded by other followers.
Their symbol is a single, small footprint.
When they intervene and change your fate, they change it to something that suits their purposes. Whether or not this is better than what other fate would await you is uncertain.
File: firelink Shrine.jpg (447 KB, 1280x829)
447 KB
447 KB JPG
It just now dawned on me that the Covenants in Dark Souls are pretty good inspiration for this sort of stuff. Especially warriors of sunlight.
The price of their help could be that the person they help has to try an have at least some lasting effect on as many lives as possible.

The current Big God occupying the Space that should be theirs is The Wheel of Fate. It was born when mortals had accumulated enough written records to pick out repeating patterns and came to the not unreasonable conclusion that history goes in cycles.

They ask that you, in some small way, disruption the patterns the Wheel feeds on. They believe that if they get enough people doing it they can bring the Wheel crashing down.

In their quest to reclaim the throne of Fate they have become anti-fate, destroyers of the chains that bind.
Qar, God of the Endless Flame

Fire is an integral part of our existence. It warms us, sustains us, and has no shortage of deities to represent it. However, none have I seen as odd and specific as Qar.
A cthonic deity, I encountered the cult of Qar in the deep, untamed wilds of Ekorro. He represents a mix between a territorial god, like the Kami of the east, and an elemental god, such as the Demiurge of old. Qar's one and only shrine is the place of his birth, death, and continued existence. When I was led through the surrounding woods, our guide offered to show us the graven place where it resided. Naturally, I accepted.
Qar was a large figure, at my estimate almost twelve feet to the shoulder, and reddish-black in hue. He stood motionless at the center of a massive fire. The flames reached approximately fifteen metres in all directions, intersected by several raised stone platforms to safely cross the conflagration, though these were in obvious disrepair. The flames stemmed from some place beneath where he stood, and not once in my observations did it show signs of movement.
According to the locals, who named it after their word for "Heat", the flames had burned since before they had settled there. Only after they had lived and settled in the region for two generations did Qar rise from the flaming pit and manifest himself. He roared in a three-day long rant of inimitable anger and madness, each word written down by local scribes, for it seems the being had spoken telepathically, onto stone slabs. It then fell inert into the state in which I found it. I inquired as to the writing on these slabs, but they told me it was sacred, beheld only by the highest priests.
Qar was worshipped only of fear, for it seems the words it spoke portended an endless and all-consuming Fire that it withheld on order of a darker, deeper master. Offerings of bone and meat are tossed onto the fire to appease it, lest it awaken and envelop all the world in eldritch flame.
>>33919062 here, still haven't gone to bed. Stop being so good, thread.
Like that idea i was thinking they had enugh power too change fate too a degree they did not have enugh too rewrite it like >>33920976 said
Damn TG is busy this is already on the fourth page quick come up with more gods
Anyone got any more pictures wishing to undergo apotheosis, or shall I start my own designs from my many collected stories and mythos of the Multiverse?
Too tired to write something up myself. Posting another round of inspirational pictures for you guys.
huh, timing! Although, post your own stuff if you want by all means.
File: wizard.jpg (36 KB, 414x633)
36 KB

Ni'Thanak, God of the Wanderlust.

Depicted as a traveler or a mage, covered in heavy cloth garments, with no face. It was said that, when the world was new, Ni'Thanak was sent out to judge the world that they had created. However, he abandoned his original duty, and sought to live among the animals and people of the world.

When man made cities, however, he found himself shunned away from civilized societies, and grew reclusive. Only those who wander forest paths and have a thirst for adventure still keep his favor, and he smiles on those who are willing to take risks for the sake of risks.

Ni'Thanak is curious about the world and its people, and is more content to watch your life rather than interfere in it. He exerts his power subtly, and from a distance, bringing about small favors for travelers such as timely food or water using the animals of the forest as his couriers. If intervening directly, he shows himself and will use his magick to defend you, but will just as quickly disappear in a flash of sunlight and leaves. When caught on a nice, sunny day, he is willing to stay and teach some natural magicks, for a fee of a rare flower from a high mountain, far off the beaten path.

Offerings to him involve burying a small box containing birch bark, hemp, animal bones, and incense at the start of a road, or the mouth of a cave. His followers have a tattoo of a compass on their hands, which are raised in a fist facing an enemy, to show their defiance of all other gods and their purposes.

Ni'Thanak's afterlife is an open road, where many animals and people will always greet you with a warm welcome, and you will never feel lonely again.
I wonder, is OP even around? because his thread is going great, I at least enjoy these tales of small gods old and new.
File: ghost.jpg (220 KB, 796x1130)
220 KB
220 KB JPG
Still here. Not for much longer. I should have gone to sleep hours ago. Need to wake up in 4 hours for work. Damn all your excellent imaginations.
I'm in an almost identical position. I think I'll just dump this last piece and go to bed and hop the thread is still alive in the morning. Maybe press F5 one more time first.
File: chinese baby.jpg (31 KB, 416x300)
31 KB
The Fat Fish.

Long ago, on this very ground, there once stood a mighty civilization. There were many like it, and many more to come, but this was the first to reach that level of grandeur that makes "a tribe" turn into "a culture". They built mighty cities, and spread far and wide tilling the earth. Famine, war, invaders, decay, and infighting brought them down. As time and dirt covered their corpses, so too did it cover the ruins of their cities and their gods. All but one.

The Fat Fish, called so because he appears to be a rather large and portly fish, is the last relic of a long forgotten people. He holds no temples and has no edicts or orders. Any attempt to commune with him (or her) is a useless endeavor as it only speaks a language that has long since died out. Sacrifices merely make him look on puzzled before continuing on his journey, swimming on through the air. Whatever he was the god of, he's still getting power from it as he still exists.

Despite the fact that literally no one can communicate with it, The Fat Fish has established a loyal following of madmen, fishermen who can't swim, the destitute, and teenagers seeking spiritual enlightenment. As The Fat Fish is constantly on the move, they are too, following in his wake. Whenever he stops, his following erupts like a poked hornets nest. The followers madly perform any action, any at all, in order to try and evoke a response from him, righteous anger or pleasure in a sacrifice, anything. So far, they have ruled out bloodshed, human sacrifice, sacrifice of fish, sacrifice of grain, sacrifice of pork (and all parts of a pig), and sexual intercourse.

But perhaps a wandering band of murderhobo's might stumble upon what it likes, and gain the watchful gaze of an obese fish?
File: Callonmeanimegrrrls.gif (348 KB, 270x480)
348 KB
348 KB GIF
rin, the girl with a thousand faces. Patron of NPCs. This young bard traveled the world and learned the stories of the poor and downtrodden. Stood up against a ruthless king and was executed for her trouble. The epics she wrote did not end with her but became holy writ. The stories tend to be short and have a strong and simple moral to them,
like Aesop's fables but with people. Despite the fact that she was burned at the stake,
the govenments of the world saw the ethical behavior of the people who listened to her stories
and promoted the small cult that sprung up around her.

Anyone with an important story to tell will run into girls in a manner of pic related who will
hound them until the character spills the beans. People who have done bad things will not be
hurt directly by the goddess. Instead she will see her turn up over and over until they confess, usually in a very public manner.
The afterlife she offers is an eternal campfire where people tell stories. Faithfull are allowed
to take up the "face" of the goddess and go into the moral world to collect more stories.

Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.Nope. Nope. Nope. NopeNope. Nope. Nope. NopeNope. Nope. Nope. NopeNope. Nope. Nope. NopeNope. Nope. Nope.
forgot to add

because of her "common touch" rin hates pcs that screw with low level commoners and will try to screw a party that commits such bad acts in a very ironic way that will make for a good story

I'm the guy who made>>33915869 She is a blatant rip off of the Goddess Vina (or however you pronounce her name) whos is worshipped by Loitrec. If you read the description of the Ring of Favor that's where most of her attitude comes from. I just added in the part about having inpenetrable armor (which is worthless because she can't herself fight So really she relies on her followers to protect her even though she can't be hurt).

I wish I would have put more thought into it.
Perfect! I'll start with this one.

Many gods hold their power through ancient existence or awe-some presence. Gronak the Hunted is a strange aversion of these two qualities. For the first, it is relatively new, being first documented as early as 1640 AR, only three centuries previous. Secondly, its greatest presence is one of ambiguity and mysticism, constantly moving and evading those who worship it.
Gronak is, in essence, the ultimate form of a hunter's ritualistic deference. It is a massive, mythical beast, recorded between five and six stories tall and approximately ninety feet long to the tip of its tail. Legends vary as to its powers, some saying it to be purely physical while others credit it with otherworldly intuition and foresight as well as the ability to mimic the sound and persona of any being known by those that encounter it.
One consistent and unusual detail is its non-predatory nature. In fact, it is not known that Gronak eats at all, and thus represents, in essence, the ultimate prey. Its abilities represent various defensive measures to avoid being killed, and it is said that he who finally kills the Gronak may become a god himself, ascending in the blood of the beast as a divinity of the Hunt and bringing prosperity to his people for generations.
Its primal nature as a personification of one side of the food chain and massive physical presence has made it the patron of the Rivach tribe, whether it knows so or not. Their culture is based around its travels, and they live a nomadic existence in the expansive Zhuran hills, tracking the Gronak in hopes of catching glimpse of it. Few have succeeded in doing so, but the enigma of the Beast-God remains a tantalizing prize to hunters throughout the multiverse.
I'm off to bed as well, but look forward to sharing more tales with you all in the morning!
"Jag, mårran, är den största och den enda
och folk blir rädda när de hör mitt namn,
nu kan otroligt hemska saker hända
och marken blir till is där jag går fram.
Ligg i din säng om natten, du ska inte alls gå ut
för då kan du få höra en mårras fjärran tjut."

...she would make a great forgotten god type, though...
I should've seen that, I'm wearing the bloody thing.

Alright then. Image-dumper guy here, shuting down for real this time. If this thread is dead by morning, see you all in a new one.
I have no ideas what that says. All I know it from is the moomins cartoon and my nightmares it subsequently haunted.

Can we have a translation please?
File: 1389387048831.jpg (212 KB, 768x1024)
212 KB
212 KB JPG
Hector, the god of heroes. While not a proper god (it is actually quite weak) this spirit is obsessed with heroes. It goads heroes into attacking it so it can develop a definite power ranking for the world. Other hobbies include cosplaying as famous heroes of the past and asking for autographs and trinkits from current heroes.
Ok, a quick one. Be aware, i am not a poet.

"I, Groke, is the greatest and the only one
and people fright when they hear my name,
now incredibly terrible things can happen
and the ground turns to ice where i thread.
Stay in your bed at night, you should not go outside
because then you may here a distant Grokes cry..."

Ugh. That sounds terrible. Its from a song called "mårrans klagosång", I can't find it anywhere else than spotify. Even if you don't understand the language, listen to it. It is guaranteed to induce instant winter in your marrow and a profound sense of loneliness and fear.
Thuuduama God of things that go missing.

Everyone has lost something they want to get back. He looks after the cosmic Lost And Found box/realm.

He is a helpful sort of creature. Slow, ponderous, kind and possessed of a deep wisdom he will share with any who are willing to listen.

He has no dedicated following as such and isn't really interested in getting one. He offers no real afterlife but has no objections to anyone wanting to wander his realm even if it's just to visit.

Occasionally another deity will try and take his place from him. They get lost in his realm and he makes no effort to find them.
Alistra Lady of wraith murder and vengeance

Once a goddess of nature as citys and Civilization encroached she slowly loss her power followers and sanity now she is sometimes seen in small villages or on outskirts of citys with a monster at her side (See pic for her companions) with a fresh corpse throw over her shoulder she hunts down those who had or might have destroyed her domain

Too pray too her you most go out too the forests with a corpse and feed it too a too one of the creatures you find the more fresh the body the better and Alistra will assist you too a degree in your quest for vengeance just be prepared too escape the goddess attempts on your own life in the process

Afterlife none she hates humans and if there was a afterlife she just feed you too one of her pets
File: Gort Halloweentown.jpg (14 KB, 300x222)
14 KB
going take a quick break now tapped out for lesser gods at the moment hopefully this won't drop off while I am off
Murtos, God of Hidden Places and Survival

A truly bitter god, Murtos is said to be the bastard of two deities, wanted by neither and cast out of heaven to hide the adultery. He sought a way back, fleeing or outsmarting the assassins sent by his parents, filled only with the burning desire to survive. It's said that he hid in a holy mountain that his foes could not find, using his disciples to do his deeds.

Murtos offers no kind words, only chances to live another day, by whatever means. Those who openly worship him are distrusted, as they are seen as liars, thieves and murderers, willing to do anything to survive. Murtos is particularly fond of the stateless, those without countries to call their own. His shrines lie in caves and by fresh water, placed by the grateful survivors, featuring carvings of him and candles. Murtos looks favourable on those who add a candle or relight the ones already there.

Murtos himself is depicted as a ragged warrior, traveller or begger, with a mangy fox or bear's head. He is shown carrying either a sword or staff, with his parent's dagger plunged into his back. He cannot be summoned, for he fears murder still, but his Pathfinders can be contacted through prayer or offering of bread "to share before the road". They carry his blessings in bags made of wolf pelt, returning to the mountain when they run low. This is where Murtos' reputation as a last-chance god comes from, as his blessing of survival may take on the form of a easy robbery or murder for provisions, depending on how well stocked the Pathfinder is. Use it or give it back.

To reach Murtos' afterlife, one's spirit must travel to his mountain without getting lost, confounded by his traps or betrayed by a lost spirit (won't you push this rock up this hill for me?). Those who make it become Pathfinders, travelling the world and bestowing blessings and finding new hidden places.
Orabel is the goddess of innocence and whimsy. She primarily grants her gifts to children in the forms of inspired fantasies showing them a peek at what they could become.
Her artifacts all grow in power the older they get, but can only be used by someone who was given it in earnest. Most are innocuous -- a weirdly shaped rock, a half used crayon, and the like-- and never have any intrinsic value. No matter what it is, it always gives off the feeling that it could be something else. A pine-cone could be decorated as a wagon, a figure could be a hero in waiting, and some shed snake skin might be his undead enemy.
She has very few followers because children rarely recognize her small miracles. Those that do must resist the temptation to become reliant on her. As soon as they recognize that they could profit from her boons, she no longer plays with them. The devout grow up to be toy makers, entertainers, and school teachers. They're more likely to hint at her existance with a wry smile or a wink of the eye than to discuss her openly.
Nanforth, God of Winter Survival

Nanforth is a minor god of the blasted wastes, cold and barren lands where sentient beings rarely venture, much less settle. Because of the inhospitable nature of his domain, Nanforth’s potential new followers are few and far between, though he is relatively well-known to the few small tribes that have made their home there. A social and loving god, Nanforth values what few followers he has as close family, and as such offers them much and demands very little in return. Although he does not have the great power of some other Northern gods like Ithaqua and Igaluk, Nanforth nonetheless offers what blessings he can: usually a greater natural resistance to the cold and an increase in warmth-preserving body fat.
He most often takes the form of a gargantuan walrus, and his shrines usually include one or more walrus bone totems. Nanforth is also known to take the shape of a very large (and very well fed) man wrapped in furs. In this guise, he will sometimes sit at a great bonfire in the wastes, offering a warm-respite to any fortunate travelers that come across him.
The after-life those devoted to Nanforth can look forward to is a great smoking lodge, warm and cozy, with a larder overflowing with mead and fresh food.
File: skullcarving.jpg (170 KB, 502x336)
170 KB
170 KB JPG

Forgot pic.

>Totem of Nanforth
Duvlaen'Naclarth the Usurper God of pride greed and ambition

A god that was born in the kingdom of ilithca and popular among the noblity of the region he was long ago cast out of the heaven for unknown reasons however will do anything too regain what he sees as his rightful spot at the top

He asks for things of value as sacrifices too him that can include anything from gold and gems too human sacrifices as well as too venerate him above all other gods in return he gives such items too help those rise in station such as documents that prove some claim or powerful poison that can cause meamory loss make them more open too suggestions or death

And stuck on after life again suggestions bare in mind this is not a vary nice lesser god
quick bump
should we save this thread on archive or try and keep it up though the night?
Alright, I have an idea for one, OP.

Honore was, at one time, a mid level, but very active, god who presided over matters of honor, fealty, and loyalty. His visage was, at one point, to be found etched into the buildings of the houses of law, for those who swore to him, would be rendered incapable of speaking falsehoods; or if they so managed to, they would be struck with ailments on the spot.

He was cast down by a god of the new pantheon, who used his very powers against Honore; the power of oath.

Even to this day, though, Honore still finds a way to give what he can to those who remember him, and to those who look to him for strength. If one swears to Honore to carry out a deed, this outcast can be known, at times, to bend things ever so slightly. So long as the pledgee does not violate their oath, they will find the strength to continue on.

It is said that some warriors, injured nearly to the point of death, have called upon Honore's succor, so that they might make it back to their loved ones. It is said, often, even to this day, that if the injured warrior is able to return to his family, only to perish afterwards, it was because Honore would not allow those with the strength of spirit, and devotedness to maintaining their oath, to become liars and failures.

One thing's for certain. If all the chips are on the table, and you can't afford to go back on your word for any reason, Honore might just give you that extra surge of vigor to carry through on your word.

Honore's after life is a small island, with buildings crafted from marble, with Honore himself sometimes walking amongst the devoted.

Given the tranquility of this afterlife, many individuals have found a hobby in crafting pleasing works of art, or in formal debate, or philosophy. They are able to take things slow, and easy, and while they may not have all that they want, they shall always have what they need.
And another.

Perdita, Caretaker of the Lost. Whether it be a sailor whose ship has been blown off course, a merchant that took the wrong road, a hapless child lost in the woods... if someone was stuck and in dire straights, Perdita, or her vessels-- all white peahens-- were said to lead those led astray to, if not civilization, then at least shelter.

Perdita was also known to possess a soft spot for children, which is why some also called her the patron goddess of Children. When she was at her most powerful, no one had ever heard of a child dying of exposure in the wilderness, or becoming lost and devoured by animals or worse. Sadly, these days, that seems to be an occurrence.

Like those who called upon her in ancient times for help, her shrines have truly become lost to the world.

Some say, however, especially in winter, when the weather has turned against them, they have encountered a spectral maiden. Wordlessly, this surreal, phantasmal thing would lead the lost to some place safe.

There are still, to this day, some lads and lasses who became lost in the wilderness, excitedly talking about the "Nice lady in the white dress", who showed them how to get back home.

Her afterlife is a sprawling plain, with a staggeringly large amount of thoroughly detailed signage.
Gravedigger. The enigmatic entity known as The Gravedigger was a minor god worshipped by grave diggers, morticians, and others with such grim employment. The Gravedigger was also a guardian of cemeteries, and the dead entombed there, who would punish grave robbers by cutting their hands off with a sharp edged shovel.

The Gravedigger, even in the cemeteries that still have his shrines, now no longer seems able to manifest himself. Still, though, some say that those whose legitimate employment requires lengthy time around the dead, that their ability to stave off sickness and illness, is due to prayers to The Gravedigger.

Surprisingly enough, The Gravedigger's after life is a library, filled with books that go on about dead cultures, dead cities, extinct species; records of all those who have died, and the circumstances under which they met their fate; and even dead concepts, dead words, dead languages.
>Honor Re


Clever man
>his afterlife is an open road, where many animals and people will always greet you with a warm welcome, and you will never feel lonely again
10/10, would worship ;_;
Lectius, God of books and written language
One of the oldest gods still in existence, and certainly the oldest whose name is still known, if only due to the nature of his domain. Lectius came into being at the onset of written history, and so long as living beings continue to write things down, he will persist.

Far from being a god of knowledge, Lectius is concerned with the acts of reading and writing than the information being written and read. Lectius' temples are small bookstores and libraries found in crowded marketplaces, the sort of store you wouldn't notice unless you absolutely needed to know something.

Disciples of Lectius are chroniclers of knowledge, and are blessed with exceptionally short-term memory.When they perish, they find themselves in a cozy tea shop, the walls lined with books. Lectius himself mans the counter, serving his divine tea to his faithful.

>did I do good?
Mother, Goddess of life and death

Mother is the oldest of the gods, some believe she is more of an entity or force of the universe than an actual goddess.

Mother is said to have sired all life, but her favorite child is humanity.

Mother sends us out into the world to experience life, but knows that in death we will return to her, and live calmly with her.

Mother, though, hates naughty naughty children. Naughty children being those who can't do anything for themselves and would take their live before it is over.

For this purpose Mother has her hand picked batch of favorites, her followers. Who hunt the souls of those she deems naughty and irresponsible and sentence them to a sort of "time out"

Mother looks kindly upon those who would do good for their adoptive parents, meaning the one who sired them, and will often give helpful guidance to those she deems worthy. She will nudge you in the right direction, or give you a motherly slap when you should be doing better.

Her afterlife is a peaceful life back at home, with Mother, where she will cook, and watch over you. Until she deems you ready to go back out into the world.
This feels a bit fetishy
Maybe I've been on 4chan too long
The Dealer, Guider of souls

The Dealer is the once god of the dead who has know been replaced and given the job of shepherding the souls of the damned, but he is bitter at having lost his job. For this instance he has rebelled and now cuts deals with the dead.

Souls of the dead that pass through the Dealers realm are given a choice, live or stay dead. Those who choose to remain dead pass through to the afterlife, those who choose life though well they are reborn.

The second time they pass through they must play a game of chance. If they win they are given the choice again, if they lose they are led to the Dealers personal realm.

Each rebirth brings a more difficult game to play, and each game has more dire consequences. The current record is 3 games of chance. Who knows just how high the stakes will go.

Followers of the Dealer are more just unaware gamblers. The higher you risk in life, the more he is likely to stack the odds in your favor in death.

The only afterlife for the Dealer is the one in his realm, but no one knows what the entails.
Hell it seems fetishy. But hell Gods and Goddess do whatever they want
Another take on this is you gamble in death. Gamble higher stakes and you are more likely to be reborn into a rich family. Gamble safely and well I hope you like being a fruit fly.
Daronathu - The imagined god.

For most most ogds, it is the belief of the people which makes them great or renders them small. An icon, an ideal, a will forged into shape by fears and dreams and aspirations.

Nos so is Daronathu. It it mutable, flexible, for he is the god of childhood friends. When you were young, and just began to wonder, what if, it was there. a rabbit with ears of hay, a masked gentleman with ill-fitting clothes, or an amorphous collection of colors, Daronathu was there.

It has never been bought to any conclusion if Daronathu breathes life into imagined beings of friendship, or if they are but a mire of masks surrounding a single face, but either way it has been established that it may be honored by offerings of candies, lost-things-found, and wistful stories. In return, it gives not greatness, nor power, but opportunities. Doorways seem a little more open, handshakes a little warmer, and offers made without guile. Daronathu leads the what could be and what might have been into the present day, turning dreams into a possibility. It grant not wishes, only opportunities.
Only problom with her is that she seems a bit too powerful this is about the lesser gods who had cosmic power like that but then they
Got killed by another god like here >>33918068
Lost there position one way or another like here>>33920889
Were unwanted in the first place like here>>33922744
Just said fuck it too the major divine thing like here>>33921569
Yeah you right, guess I kinda overdid it.
well i am heading too bed now hope this is still up when i get up
Jaal, Lord of the Deep Earth.

An old god who rules over caverns and some precious minerals. He is a rather apathetic god that must be invoked deep within his domain. When he does communicate, he speaks rather dismissively and seems to feign interest in the overworld. The boons provided by this deity are rare as the minerals he lords over only because of the difficulty to contact him and general lack of care for those who seek his blessings. Some gifts he provide would be to find the minerals he rules over far easier and the capability to understand one's way through natural caverns at a supernatural level (basically can understand a rough layout of any natural cavern you walk into).

Those who pledge allegiance to this god and are respected by him are patient and enjoy the stone that compose his realm either for commercial or personal value. His afterlife is an endless tunnel that branches out into an infinite number of more caverns.
File: ShadowsWitness.jpg (96 KB, 472x750)
96 KB
Sharha, Shade of Devouring

Once the goddess of excess, fertility and luxury, her insatiable hunger for tributes and offerings left by mortals at her temples would be the key to her undoing.

Sharha feasted on the many gifts of treasures and foods her followers left, growing lazy and ungainly in the pantheon. So sloth-like was she that when Maribad, a major city that declared her as patron, was seized and sacked by marauder worshippers of Mordercia, the Blood Dragon (>>33918077), Sharha did nothing to save her worshippers. News of the major attack and Sharha's apparent ambivalence spread fast and soon her shrines lay abandoned, past disciples became un-trusting of a goddess who would do nothing to save her subjects.

Soon after her worshippers relinquished their faith in her and stopped paying her tributes, Sharha became hungry and alone. Why had her lushness flock abandoned their bejewelled shepherd? Hunger turned to famine. Famine turned to desperation. Desperation to anger and anger to a blind instinct.

The goddess lost her beauty, her golden skin became smoke and shadow, a kind and young face twisted into a monstrous mess and, where once she had hungered for fine wines and poetry, now she became enamoured by the prospect of devouring mortal souls.

Since her transformation, her high place in the pantheon has been left vacant as Sharha verges on the cusp of demonhood. She is still worshipped by some but those who see her still and a bountiful giver of gifts are blinded to her metamorphosis. Visionary cultists now pay blood tributes in her name and call upon her hunger to destroy specific souls. However, such a hunger cannot go unfulfilled and there are too few mortals and too few tributes for Sharha to survive as a goddess for much longer. Soon she will be forced from immortality and into the realms of spirits and demons but not before Vol, Godhead of the Lost and Forgotten (>>33918783) lays another rag on it's shoulder.
File: 1366673749665.jpg (371 KB, 1200x902)
371 KB
371 KB JPG
The Council of Wolves are an assemblage of various predatory nature gods from different defunct pantheons, assembled together for strength in numbers. They manifest as men with wolf heads, often clothed in religious garb.

They are associated with predation, stealth, hunting and politics, pushing their followers towards urban centers in the hopes of spreading the word of their worship. In the wild, they are worshiped by hunters and in the cities those who prey on others, either literally or metaphorically. Their blessings are often some form of insight into the prey, or the tools necessary to bring them down a little easier.

Their afterlife is The Den, a large cave-like structure in which all join the great pack and is basically Valhalla for wolves - relishing the hunt in the day, feasting on the catch at night.
File: Jeff Christensen 1.jpg (136 KB, 600x808)
136 KB
136 KB JPG
Bugger, forgot about her afterlife. (Pick somewhat related)
Once it was a infinite palace of paradise but, as the goddess fell, the palace has fallen into disrepair and those who lived in utopia there now have become meals for Sharha or worse, brought back as foul spirits, used as servants to assist the shade in her quest for sated hunger.
Ah, I have awakened and am prepared to share more lore and legend on the lesser known gods of the Multiverse. I will look back for a picture or two to jog my memory...
>>33921571 this will do nicely!

Uwanor Cairel, Dominus of Desolation

The pantheons of old were not comprised of whimsical, benevolent deities, as it seems so many are today. They worshipped vast, uncaring gods whose good will lasted only so long as their interest in humanity. Uwanor was one such god, of the Elvish pantheon. He was not worshipped often, however, as he had little to offer the world of the living.
Being a god of Desolation and abandonment is far from a coveted position, and Uwanor Cairel, named as one of the oldest and least caring of the Celestial Kings, was consigned to only a small cult in the southwest, where his desolation had, it seems, already taken hold. My studies of the ancient elven temples suggests that he was widely recognized, but only as a bogeyman, a deity to be feared rather than worshipped.
Cairel was said to rest in his palace among the stars, and he would sleepwalk, wandering down to the mortal world and causing decay and dispersal wherever his dreams took him. Eventually, he would return to his palace, not to return for several more centuries.
His cult, the Cairelian Elves, a subculture of the Dark Elves, venerate him as the equalizer, the pacifier, he which turns the sounds of chaos, war, and sin silent in his wake. To them, the only perfect world is an empty one, with nothing to spread evil or cause misfortune, and they gladly submit themselves to achieve this. Their goal is, through enough erratic worship and sacrifice, to wake Uwanor and bade him stride across the whole of the earth, turning all to oblivion.
The afterlife for the Cairelian elves is nonexistent. They wish for desolation, and in death it is given to them, their souls snuffed out forever.
The Forgotten, God of lost causes and the desperate. It is portrayed as a ragged street urchin, a bedraggled crow or, most commonly, a long formless shadow.

The only shrines to him are makeshift and small: A smattering of junk metal and brick dust crammed into the corner of a jail cell; mud and feathers stuck to a rotten log. After all, if you have the resources to build something greater, you do not need his aid.

Only the lowest in society, such as slaves, whores and criminals, worship him steadily. Most prayers to The Forgotten are made quickly by any desperate enough to call on him: A prisoner the night before his death sentence; a soldier lying disarmed before his foe; a sailor on a sinking ship; a political reformer who is about to see their latest bill defeated.

His blessing is subtle, usually a little nudge to help the supplicant if he feels they are truly in need. Most who pray to The Forgotten are at their most alone. At these times, his presence is blessing enough.

No one, not even his more faithful worshippers, wishes to end up in the afterlife of The Forgotten, named The Lost City. It is a dank and grimy city that scuttles through the Deep Dark between realms of the dead. It picks up any souls who had no other afterlife to go to and would have otherwise drifted into the Deep Dark. Thus, the inhabitants of the Lost City are hardly pleased to have ended up in such a dark and depressing afterlife but they still owe gratitude for saving them from a much worse fate.
File: feat263c_igagpnwagw.jpg (131 KB, 610x459)
131 KB
131 KB JPG
Visalle, Nobilis of the Sunrise

On the steppes and mountains of Arake, the sunrise is a spectacular event, with the dawning light splayed across the mountains like a spectral projection, and the yellows, reds and blues reflecting and dancing between the valley and the horizon. It is an event I witnessed many times on my travels through the region. Despite this, the god Visalle has very little notice in the area, besides as a chief deity among the sedentary Kuldala peoples. The other cultures, such as the Enariates and the Othmani, worship the Sun goddess Diar as ruler of all aspects of the sun's movement. To the Kuldala, however, the dawn is given special honor.
Visalle was, according to legends I have been told, a great king of the Kuldala many centuries ago. Each day he would wake before the sun rose, and prayed to Diar from his rooftop as the dawn came. To him, the dawn was inspiration and enlightenment, driving and guiding him each day. For many years he ruled, until his kingdom was disrupted by the coming of a great and violent horde. They terrorized his lands and eventually laid siege to his city.
Visalle organized together his men and, in cover of darkness, moved them to positions to the northeast and northwest of the enemy, just along the ridge of the mountains. Visalle himself rode out alone and, just before sunrise, released a great peal from his horn, waking the enemy and taunting them to action.
A large number mounted and charged toward the king's undefended position.
Then, as they approached, the sun rose across the horizon, behind where Visalle stood. His armor shined as though it were made from light, and he was wreathed in a crown of gold. At this sight the enemy faltered, and he signalled down his army, routing the enemy horde. For his staunch and faithful defense of his people, Visalle was immortalized by Diar as the deity of the sunrise, and the Kuldala say he rides out each morning, keeping safeguard over his people for eternity.
Picture unrelated, but any are free to use it to craft their own tales.
As for the afterlife, this is not an area governed by Visalle, as one may expect of a more local deity.
Awesome. Would have tea with.
No one is sure if Signpost is even a God. It has no worshipers and very few mortals know of its existence. Most of the gods haven't even heard of it. It is not so much forgotten as obscure and irrelevant.

He dwells in what is often referred to as the Wastland, Place Between Places, Abyss and many other things.

It's where failed God's go when they die. Some mortals also. Mostly the mortals who are either rejected by their deities or unbelievers who no God will give shelter to. The soul cannot be destroyed and it has to go somewhere.

This is the place Signpost inhabits. It usually takes the form of a humanoid is a targeted grey monk's habit several sizes too big for it. No part of it's body, assuming it has one, has ever been seen. If you ask it the location of something in the Wasteland it will point in that direction. It either has no voice or refuses to talk. Some say it is not a being in its own right so much as it is a manifestation of the Wasteland. It has never been observed moving and may be capable of telleportation what unobserved. Time is hard to measure in the Wasteland but their is either more than one of it or it is in multiple locations at once. The one place in that bleak realm it refuses to go is into The Lost City. >>33934034

It may have some connection to Spider as Signpost has often given it directions. Spider seems to be able to travel wherever it likes making it one of the few things capable of escaping the Wasteland. Signpost seems to be capable of giving extradimesional directions but only to those who can use them.>>33917535
File: 1320932520029.jpg (44 KB, 320x316)
44 KB
Aw yiss, this thread lives. and I like that people have started weaving the stories together.

dumping a new round of inspiration pictures for ya
File: Fog_of_Battle_by_nJoo.jpg (122 KB, 541x700)
122 KB
122 KB JPG
File: Big Face.jpg (440 KB, 1615x1062)
440 KB
440 KB JPG
...and he that went before now came last, and that which was white and black and all direction was thrown against itself. Grown mightily indignant at the words of the Gods,Uͦ͐̉͒͛͘͞g̶͒̒͆̎͛͂̊̂̏́-̶̛͌̈̄҉́͢Qͯ̊̏͂̎̈́̑ͭ̐͝҉u̶͐ͪͣ͐ͨͪ̓ͥ̆́̐̃͢a̛ͩ̎̅ͦͣ͐ͫͭ͒͝҉̕͝ľ̵̵̢̅ͩ̐̒͆ͦt̉̈́͆͊ͬͧ̈́͘̕o̵̶ͤ͑̽ͮ̐̈́̽͒́̾̎̌̚͢͡͠t̶̔̆ͩͧ̓̂ͨ̏̐̀h̵̢̢ͦ̂̍̅did turn his heart against them and flee into the chambers of space . . . And no man looked to Ư̡̲̺̗̰͊̇̓̑ͬ̅̔͊̊̾ͨ̄͛ͮ̽ͬ̀ͯ̕ġ̸̨̪͉̳̹̥͕̤͇̾̅ͣ́͡-ͬ͌ͣͨ̒̓͐͛͠҉̥͇͖̦̖͎́͘Q̧̯̹̦̫̪̼̲̝̰͓̑͐͛ͪ̅͘͝u̡ͬ̓͂ͧ̅̅̂̋ͬ́̑ͪ̇͏͡͏̤̩̞̺̪̝̥̭a̵̢ͦ̿̆ͯͨ͗ͫͯ̃̅̅ͫ̎͆͐͜͜͏͔̲̥̭͉̰̥̘̗̳͇l̵̢̢̮̣͉̺͕̫͚̞͎̗̗͈̠̙̲̟̼̣ͭ̾ͦͥ͗̍̇̋͒͗̀t̴̢̮̹͚͇̼̳̠̝̗̩̙̭͙͕͐͛̏̅͂̔̿ͭ̾͑ͧ͢ͅo̟̞͎͍̘͍̙͓͖͕̜ͪ̓̀ͨ̑ͨ͗̆͌ͥ̽̅̑̂ͮ͂̀́͜͞͡t̢̢͎͙͚͙̭͕̳ͬ̇̽ͦͨͮ͋̈́ͩͪͦͣ̿̈́̏ͫ͠ḩ̷̼͎̦̬̺̟̬̳̫̠̰̼̺̥̞̜̣̝̰̄̉ͩ̐̈͒̎ͯ̈́̔̑̚̚͠ then, save those that serve that which they hate, who smile upon their misfortune, and who bear no love save for the damned. At such times as a warrior's heart turns to Ú̴̷͕͉͍͈͎̲̣̠̞͎͜g̡̨̲̪̬͇͓̺̞̠̥̜̲͖̤̟̠̱͔͘͘-̕͟҉̢͍̯̙͖̦̀Q̪̞͙̗̮̥̩̤̳͉̺͚͔̻̙͎̦͘͘u̦̖̫̣͙͔͟͜͜ͅa͏̢̺̼͓̥̯̟̰̤͈͉̗̠̘̱͍̜͙ͅl͏͔̥̹̥̭̱̖̮̗̦̭̩̲̟͕͖̮t̛҉͙̠͈̘̠͍̗̣͚̤̱̞̳͖ͅo͏̵͉͔̭̞̙̪̫̘̟̰̣̟̲̖̙̺t̢̧̛͞҉̤͖̤̜̗̪̰͙̩̖̤̲͙͇͖h̴̶̤͔̖̬͉͇̪̠͕́͟͡, all gods of limbo grow fearful, and the laughter of the Outcast gods fill the tomb of space . . .
File: 1318102652138.jpg (287 KB, 1031x774)
287 KB
287 KB JPG
The Scratcher.

He taught the written word to mortals.

He put a lot of himself into his work.

Now hes stuck there. He is now stuck in every work writing, looking out from behind bars of letters. He whispers into peoples minds subtly as they read.

Worldsoul the Sloth

One of the seven Primordial Dragons who's great age and spiritual power granted them right of divinity. Each Dragon was said to have helped shape the world in some manner.

World Soul, Greatest in size of all the dragons wore an unbreakable shell upon which the firmaments of earth could be built and his shell became the root of all plants and trees.

When the old gods warred Worldsoul chose to sleep and was damned for his laziness. Even so, when he moves his very nature causes the earth to shutter and mountains to fall. he does this not in anger but merely through carelessness and just as sudden as it begins it may as well cease as his laziness overcomes him yet again.
Any idea when Op is going come back would be useful too know a bit more about the setting when we are making lesser gods for it
Ah, the thread carries on! Should it falter, I will begin a new discussion. It seems, though, that my contributions have been ignored :/

The Engural

Centaur religion, as I have discovered in my time among them, is highly animistic, and major gods are few to be seen. Among the Thussev band, however, resides a group of deities better known through terror than admonition.
The Engural are three in number, a triangular assortment of divine aspects. Each one represents its own portion of war.
Vruul, the smallest, represents Strategy. It is the smartest and most elusive of the brothers, leading their actions from behind and influencing the thoughts and ambitions of all who wish to wage war. He alone has some semblance of devotion among the Engural, and is sometimes invoked by Thussev warriors for strength and intuition in battle. However, he is no kinder than his brothers, and will grant one's foes the same skill as he would oneself.
Baz, tallest of the three, represents Strength. By his form are swords sharpened and arrows straightened. In his ire are shields shattered and armies turned to retreat. He is rarely honored, because it has never paid well to call forth an Engural to battle, as he will eagerly strengthen and weaken both sides His form is covered in dulled steel, and with his hands are the mightiest weapons forged.
Lastly among the brothers is Firoth, who represents Slaughter. He wears a flesh of smoke and shadow, and his footsteps leave not prints, but piles of dead and broken bodies in his wake. There is no allegiance or devotion to Firoth, not even by its brothers, and even the greatest warrior flees when its battle cry is heard.
In battle, one cannot call forth a single Engural without including the other three, and thus the Thussev scorn their names to avoid total desecration. I could not say how true the tales of death and mass destruction are, but the hardened warriors of the band still shudder at signs of smoke rising from the forest.
File: Vally of Death.jpg (813 KB, 720x871)
813 KB
813 KB JPG
OP has been here for some time now. From what others have added to the dare bones of the original idea we seem to have the following.

Low fantasy.

Some anon previously alluded to the possibility of one super-continent. I like this idea.

Possibly there are also small islands out in the vast ocean where stranger things dwell.

Low fantasy. Magic is about as pervasive as the Dishonored setting. People know it exists, few trust it, it comes from Beyond Where We Know and is the gift of otherworldly beings.

Low fantasy of about iron age. Late iron age maybe where some of the kingdoms and empires are getting quite big. Technological advancements and new horrifying scales of wars causing new mass movements of people. Old ways dying out. Old gods just hanging on. The big gods amalgamate into bigger gods like two jugs of water being poured together. Their magic is blessings, miracles and divine because they say so and their old god rivals are witchcraft, sorcery and unholy because they say so.

Not that there aren't good new god worshipers. Most of them, the vast majority, are nice people who just want to live. Not that all followers of the old gods are the virtuous underdog, some of them are right bastards.

Gods can die. Not easily but they can. They go to The Wasteland/Place Between Places/Abyss. So do the people no god, benevolent of malevolent, wants. These mortals are rare as given that this setting seems to have gods like cities have rats you have to work pretty hard to piss everyone off.

The gods seem to feed off of belief but rather than blinking out of the mortal world the moment it stops they just seem to fade away gradually and reluctantly until they fall to the Wasteland. It is possible to claw your way out of the wasteland, not easy but possible.
File: 1318103199286.jpg (79 KB, 600x467)
79 KB
There seems to be the standard fantasy peoples of elves, dwarves, orcs and humans and their respective gods, many of whom are merging together into the big pantheons and leaving the less compatible ones behind, shed like autumn leaves.

It has not been stated if these peoples are different species or just if there can be viable hybrid populations.
Adding to this, the world is connected to a sort of spirit plane that connects the dead and the living, as well as hosting many spirits of varying size and authority.
There are at least two sets of mountains, one stretching across the east, with a forest and temperate kingdoms to the eastern shore along with scattered rivers, while a treeless valley and windy steppe occupy the western side, likely due to rainfall being trapped along the peaks and not often reaching the western side. There are jungles on some of the outlying islands, and some are apparently large enough to support rivers and hills of their own. In the north are snowy hills and volcanoes, as well as lush grasslands below the glacial line. Kingdoms are local in most places, though some seem to suggest larger empires headed by the more common pantheons. Tribal cultures and states still exist in fringe regions, though. In terms of Low magic, most of the races show little if any magical capabilities, whereas gods and spirits are the source of most magical phenomena and occasionally give such power to their disciples.
I would definitely play this world in DnD.
File: 18lsb9t1tjtfwjpg.jpg (64 KB, 640x328)
64 KB

If I ever get to run this setting in a campaign, and I hope I one day do, I am probably going to borrow a map from real world.

Pangaean or Pangaean Ultima.

Probably Pangaean Ultima.

>Captcha: clergyman tusome

File: 1318104257529.jpg (57 KB, 540x720)
57 KB

Possibly pic of some claimer of the unwanted and despised. He drags those with no worth to the Wasteland.

Unless someone can think up something better.
Well, the wasteland is sort of a non-afterlife, so it wouldn't likely be taking them there. However, we're on a good track here. In fact, it reminds me of a being I encountered in my most recent expedition...

The Grevari

Not gods, no, but spirits in the service of the Dealer. As a God of gambling and cheating, it is little surprise when the reborn attempt to escape his game and return to the world of the living without his permission.
He sends the Grevari to reclaim them. Foul, winged beasts with few notable features other than a screeching maw and obscuring black wings, it collects the bodies of the dead who had escaped the Dealer's gamble and drags them into his realm. Those who yet live despite their gambling are quickly plucked from mortality by winged beasts only they can see. Often alleged to be responsible for sudden disappearances and tales of "winged demons who drag the living to hell."
The veracity of these statements is still as tenuous as the sanity of those I interviewed to receive them.
Also, we ought to archive this thread for future reference, who knows how long until it's removed entirely.

Here. Please up vote it.

Fasa the Envious,

Of the 7 Primordial Dragons the fall of Fasa was the most dramatic. Where he could not match Worldsoul in sheer size he more then made up in his presence. he was fierce and determined to make himself stand out from his brethern even if all he could do was assist them in the tasks they sought.

It was he who piled the dirt onto Worldsoul's shell, it was he who helped the firey Komul light the sun aflame, it was he who helped the temptor Nasal lure the unborn souls to Komul's star.

And yet he could achieve nothing on his own and when he fell as many of the others did he was dealt a cruel blow, imprisoned in a crystal shard from which there is no escape which was then shattered into innumerable pieces and flung across creation.

Those who find a shard of Fasa's stone are said to be inspired as the dragon resumes his old habits but those who possess the stones and grow in their accomplishments soon find themselves mad with jealousy of another and those that fail to control these feelings fall prey to Fasa's weakness and are brought low with death and dishonour.
Thanks, mang.

Onnedhi, the Plaguelord

While traveling through the tundras of Noerun, I became afflicted with a minor fever. The locals said I had been "touched by Onnedhi", a phrase apparently meaning to contract a trivial illness. I inquired as to who this Onnedhi was, and they graciously explained, knowing of my passion for lore and mythology.

Onnedhi is a Rutheian title, and in the language of the empire we visited she was called Bagai., which means "Foul wind". Onnedhi was an archaic deity of disease and decay, feared more often than valued. There were, however, some cultists, the Plague Speakers, who placed her as the counter to reckless civilization and overpopulation. When a kingdom grew haughty and prosperous, it was, to them, the duty of Onnedhi to spread illness and decay to weaken and punish the civilized world for its hubris. If some brash explorer sought to conquer the horizon, Onnedhi would offer him a vile gift on his arrival, and the Plague Speakers would proudly flaunt this as the work of their patron. The speakers themselves were remarkably free from illness, lending some credibility to their claims. More likely, however, is that their isolation and small numbers meant that no foreign contaminants would ever find them.
The afterlife, for the Plague Speakers, is an eternity of paradise and contentment in the pristine wilds, with no civilized thing in sight and all the world stripped to near-desolation, as the weak were culled there long ago. This odd paradox of living death is what drives the devoted and frightens the civilized.
As for myself, it seems the touch of Onnedhi was less fearsome than the legends say, and I soon recovered.
To try and keep the discussion going, I'll produce another of my own tales.

Teloth, Godhead of Divinity

Teloth is, by far, the most unusual deity I have yet experienced. Practically every minor facet of our existence is lorded over by some deity or another, but Teloth is alone, in my experience, as a God of godhood itself. It represents the distinction between mortals and the gods they serve, and is reputed to be responsible for holding that line.

In this regard it is both powerless and infinitely powerful. It cannot act of its own agency without terrible risk, as one would expect from such a tenuous position, but were it to willingly abandon its duty, the very nature of religion, divinity, and existence would change irrevocably. Perhaps it is for this reason that Teloth has willingly hid itself from notice, retaining only the sparest believers to keep it in existence.

These worshippers deprive themselves of an identity, but I was fortunate enough to speak to one who, seeing the value of a complete mythological codex, was compelled to tell me what little she could afford. They wear no special outfit, nor hold any titles or customs, save for a single yearly sigil that each member enacts almost simultaneously. She would not describe the practices involved in the ritual or just how many took part, but said it was to simply express to Teloth that it existed, and give it strength to eternally hold the line between us mortals below and the ancient, ephemeral beings above.

Heres some from my recently ended campaign.

Rokan, God of Natural selection

Rokan is portrayed as a black whirlwind, or sometimes an oversized scorpion.
his philosophy is the brutality of nature and survival of the fittest, very few worship him because the worship itself is hard and unrewarding, he tolerates mechanical advantage, such as weapons and armour, but detests anything that removes the challenge of survival, such as cattle farming or firearms.


Goddess of luck and wealth.

There are very few if any churches dedicated to the worship of Lutora, but everyone has said a prayer to her at least once, favour to her is shown by the colour purple, gamblers will wipe their dice with a purple cloth for a high stakes roll, first time soldiers will wear purple undershirts or polish their weapons with oil from a purple jar.
New businesses will often record their earnings in purple covered books and prostitutes will sometimes wear purple items of clothing to prompt a profitable work day.
Here's one I've had close to my chest for a long time.

The Valley God.

In this world, there are gods of true power. Worldshakers and continent breakers, shifters of the moon and slaughterers of men. Gods of war, death, life, love. They have fine temples, beautiful artifacts, mighty champions, legions of worshipers, and more. They stand tall, and have risen far. And many have fallen, or will fall.

The Valley God has none of these. His temples are mere menhirs, natural stone pillars bearing carvings. He has no artifacts, no champions, and but a scant few worshipers.

He does not stand tall, but he stands strong. He has not risen far, but he has never fallen. He is possibly the oldest of gods, harkening back to the primordial ages at the beginning of man and the world, if not earlier. He is no great power, but he is an eternally enduring one.

He, or more properly, it, has few desires. Peace. A few followers. Respect from those that do follow him. He wishes, more than anything, to continue to exist as he currently. Nothing else really matters to him. Ambition is as foreign to him as it is to the mountains.

His gifts are few, and his demands fewer. To those who pray to his Menhirs, he offers luck, and prosperity. Not much, no world shifting chance, but instead a quiet but useful increase in fortune. Crops grow a little taller, rivers have a bit more fish, children grow a bit healthier, and so on. In return, all he asks is a prayer, once a day, at any time. He'll accept more, but he doesn't ask for it.
File: Avatar_of_Lokt_.jpg (461 KB, 684x1150)
461 KB
461 KB JPG
I am in process of making a similar pantheon but with more gods and magic. This is the earthly aspect of my god of war and domination.
File: srsly_vimes.jpg (16 KB, 300x360)
16 KB
>"Small Gods"
>none reference the book
A sweet that's a neat little addition to the dealer.

I was also thinking of stuff along these lines.

Any who give to the poor, or help those less fortunate are looked upon with interest by the dealer. The less fortunate are usually those who gambled to highly for their own good and where reborn into a life of poverty or worse. The dealer keeps a special note of these people.
File: drowned.jpg (612 KB, 1280x1767)
612 KB
612 KB JPG
Hamara Kada, The Submerged Mariner
AKA The Drowned One

Hamara Kada is commonly portrayed as a humanoid figure warped and twisted to resemble that of various ocean life, though no persistent reference is available. Sometimes he resembles an octopus or squid, other types a shark or barracuda. What is always common is that his face is obscured. Hamara Kada's sphere of influence encompasses that of the predatory or otherwise twisted creatures of the sea, such as sharks, angler fish, and eels.

The philosophy of his followers, referred to as Drowned Apostles or Drowners, is to respect the ocean and those that dwell within it. They believe that the oceans are the origin of all life, and thus the lifeline by which all beings draw from. Thus, they refrain from eating anything that does not come from water, seeing it as unfit for consumption. Fish, aquatic plants, sea-salt, and amphibious animals are their primary sustenance.

Drowned Apostles generally cover their moth and nose with cloth or other obscuring material, in order to represent their commitment to the choking embrace of water. If their cover is removed, they are regarded as dishonored, and must perform a minor ritual to Hamara in order to rectify their error. The Apostles usually wear dark shades of blue, green, and purple, though lighter shades of blue are not uncommon.

To worship Hamara Kada is to earn influence over the sea. Apostles can manipulate water very mildly, have empathy with aquatic animals, may breathe underwater for a longer period of time, and can swim more proficiently. Additionally, when even mildly wetted by water, an Apostle will become more powerful, the extent increasing with how soaked they are, and if the water is saltwater or freshwater. While not particularly formidable on land, an Apostle that is completely submerged in the ocean is fairly formidable, and should not be taken lightly.
Awesome and strange.
File: Shrine to Osaka.gif (96 KB, 450x300)
96 KB
Aisling, the Dreamwalker
Within the limitless bounds of the dreamscape there are many gods. Gods that were, gods that are, and some gods that have not yet come to be. Whether Aisling is the former or latter, she does not say. Indeed, she does not even seem to care.
A gentle deity, Aisling does not command. Those who have met her in their dreams say she simply asks for what she wants, which is usually that dreamers simply cherish their dreams, good or bad. The fortunate souls who meet her are usually happy to comply.

It is said among Aisling's followers that an offering of a fried pastry, fed to a bird, will bring Aisling's favor, and with it, pleasant dreams. It is certainly true that her followers rarely suffer from nightmares, and in the rare event that they should endure a jaunt in the fouler reaches of the dreamscape, the memory of her voice and laughter is enough to blunt any night terror.
This stuff is golden.
...that's a Phyrexian.
The Cat King. Trickster-God and (Untrustworthy) Patron of greedy merchants, thieves and Con-men.
The Worm King, emissary of the abyss, God of the unwanted.
he hides in the deepest caves of the world teaching the lost and damned the ways of the abyss. He gives them comfort with oblivion his followers are forgotten but with this they become a part of the evergrowing darkness.
What if someone's killed bigger and bigger foes until there was only the Blood Dragon left?

Would they have to defeat him and take his place?

[Advertise on 4chan]

Delete Post: [File Only] Style:
[a / b / c / d / e / f / g / gif / h / hr / k / m / o / p / r / s / t / u / v / vg / vr / w / wg] [i / ic] [r9k] [s4s] [cm / hm / lgbt / y] [3 / adv / an / asp / biz / cgl / ck / co / diy / fa / fit / gd / hc / int / jp / lit / mlp / mu / n / out / po / pol / sci / soc / sp / tg / toy / trv / tv / vp / wsg / x] [Settings] [Home]
[Disable Mobile View / Use Desktop Site]

[Enable Mobile View / Use Mobile Site]

All trademarks and copyrights on this page are owned by their respective parties. Images uploaded are the responsibility of the Poster. Comments are owned by the Poster.