Before I get started, I wanted to say a few things about the last four gods I am going to write about. These gods: Drakken, Telaxus, Marija and Lobos are each unique, even to the pantheon, and represent either a concept that is unique, or events that transpired due to my players actions in the campaigns I have run. Each of them is going to get a short overview before I launch into the details and try to describe them.

Lobos, the God of Time, is an anomaly in the pantheon in that he is not, truly part of it the way others are. Lobos simply appeared one day, before the Godswar, and spoke his name and title, Lobos, Lord of the Inevitable. He came from beyond time itself, and spoke of residing among them, not as one of the, but of one of them. His demeanor brooked no argument, and his bearing no retort. Since that time he has fought, bleed and supported the Paltonarchs against first the rebels and then the Accursed. There are none among the paltonarchs who would say they know him well, for he has always kept his distance. Aloof and distant from even his fellows, Lobos is an enigma to all.

Lobos, God of Time

Other Titles:  The Ineveitable One, The Unending, Outsider, Castellan of Nothingness

Alignment: NE

Weapon: Scythe (Domaragon – “The End of Ages”)

Major Domains: Time, Inevitability, Fate

Minor Domains:  Destruction, Aging, Void

Totem Animal/Warform: Frogs (The warform is that of a black, starfilled frog with vast teeth of solidified nothingness, with eyes that see through time in all directions)

Holy Symbol: An hourglass with black sand flowing up instead of down.

Favored Appearances: Lobos, not one to stick with forms and conventions, has a single androgynous form that he uses in every interaction. He is of average height, around 5’8″ and of slender build. He has an extremely angular face, with almond shaped eyes that are completely black. Thin lips, a sharp nose and a high forehead complete the image. He keeps his long, grey-blue hair in a ponytail which often rests over his shoulder and onto his chest. He is neither muscular nor lean, though his pale grey skin often has him perceived as thinner than he is. He is never without his scythe, the great weapon that will destroy time itself at the end of days. Other than that single weapon, however, he is without personal protection or weaponry, wearing instead a peasants clothes of trousers and shirt, with an over-tunic of dark gray, hood pulled over his head to shadow his face.

Personality:  Lobos is a loner, keeping his own company and preferring it that way over any. Only his followers and devoted aren’t sent away on their arrival to the Gates of Time. Few Gods, if any, are able to attend him and be welcomed among his small host. Lobos seems often distracted, his mind of in other dimensions and times, seeing both what was, what will be, and what could have been. However, once his mind is fixated on a topic or event, he becomes singularly focused, able to see with great clarity the outcome and how swiftly he can bring it about.

Teachings: There is little joy in the passing of time, and even that little bit is not celebrated by the adherents of Lobos. It is taught that all things pass into oblivion, given enough time, and that the end of all things is the fate of the world. To fight and resist that fate, that great darkness and the void beyond even the war in the Iron Marches, is folly. All things must pass through time, and all things must one day end. Lobos will be there to greet them. The only ending, the only finale, the only way out, is complete, utter and consuming annihilation.

Abode: Even among the gods, Lobos is solitary and prefers the company of himself to that of others. The Gates of Time lie the farthest back on the Paltonarch controlled side of the marches, near the western Unknown Reaches. There, it is said that he sits and contemplates the end of the world and time itself unless called upon by the other gods for aid.

Clergy: The priests and followers of Lobos are responsible for little among the civilized lands of the world, though often in the more savage areas he is revered as a second death god, next to Dagor. Temples of lobos provide no succor to the weak, the infirm or the injured, and provide no asylum or refuge for the poor and weak. Instead, they are warrior-monks, preparing their bodies and their minds for the end times. They train their minds, bodies and souls for that moment that they are pulled away, called to fight the the Last War with Lobos at the head of an army of devoted and fearless warriors. None of his warriors have ever been seen on the Iron Marchs, and it is said that He and all his followers fight a Hidden War against unknown beings of immense power. Though Lobos has seen the end, the failure of the Last War, the Gods and his devotees, he knows it is the only thing that can be done.

Knightly Order:It could be said that all of Lobos followers are a knightly order, but even among those dedicated to a cause, there are those more dedicated.  The Knights of Times Eye are those fanatics. armored in dark gray and wielding great scythes of unspeakable power, they seek not to hone their bodies and minds in the rigors of a monastery or a church, but hunting those who would defy the end of time. In a similar vein to the priests of Dagor, the Knights of the Eye hate the undead, but they also hunt those who have defied time in other ways.  Immortals, demons, dragons. Beings that simply live for seeming eternities. The Knights of the Eye seek them out and strive to destroy them, both as an act of devotion and as a test to their skills and prowess.

Clerical Attire: Lobos prefers neutral grays and blacks, with the rare white as an accent. Many of his agents sport a hood or color, and a white hood has become a well known symbol of the followers of this faith. Preference is not given for either robes, clothes or any other fashion, though often it is armor that has a need to be dyed, lacquered or other form of stained to denote the faith.

Followers: Few Elves take of the worship of one who hates immortal beings, though some have found their self loathing to be a great fuel for his faith. Warriors and Monks tend to gravitate to following Lobos, though few others do. Mages, sometimes, but only for as long as they can naturally live.

I love 5e, and I don’t think I can state it enough, it has the right blend of balance and character, as well as a system that is reminiscent of the RPG’s I played when I was a kid.

However, as in all things, there are rough patches. 5e has a number of improvements over its 3.5 and 4.0 predecessors, but I have found, in a simple three adventures, that there is one place where it falls hard on its ass. Sadly, this portion of the game is also one that is crucial to a DM and to how the adventure plays out. This simple, integral, vital task is used by every DM and every adventure. I’ll stop playing coy, and just spit it out.

Encounter building sucks, and its not just bad, its really bad.

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Maltara, God of Disease

Other Titles: Brother Bloat, the Lord of the Flies, Pestilent King
Alignment: LE
Weapon: Callused Fists

Major Domains: Disease, Recovery, Constitution
Minor Domains:Weeding out the weak, Anatomy, Carrion
Totem Animal/Warform:  Great Lizard/Monitor Lizards (The Warform is composed of Stone, Wind, Lightning and gems)

Holy Symbol: A bloated, pustule covered tongue with a rusted nail piercing it.

Favored Appearances: Maltara tends to walk the world rarely, and when he does it is an ill tiding among many of the peoples of Kasan. Were he travels, disease and death follow, and many do not survive his presence. Those who do describe a particularly horrifying form. His hair is falling out in great patches on his head, leaving the rest of it a patchwork of short dark hair and scabs. His wide, flat face is covered in rashes and blisters, his bloodshot eyes bulge from his head,  his teeth are rotten and his breath fetid. The skin on his arms and legs split, oozing a viscus type of ichor that slides down and drips from his fingers and lingers in his footprints. coughs punctuate his sentences and  breaths, spreading his captured diseases. His body, no matter the outward signs that it should be on deaths door, is fit and strong. His callused fists are hard as bone and the arms are muscular enough to do significant damage with them. His legs easily gobble up the land in long, powerful strides and grant him surprising agility for a person in his condition.

both forms have the same basic appearance, though he walks the world as a human in his female form and as a halfling in his male. In both forms his preferred garment is that of the robe of his priesthood, a brilliant green and bone. When trying to pass undetected, he walks with the hood up and quietly, though his coughing breaks through. When embodying a plague to walk the lands, he walks with the cowl down, his brilliant yellow eyes betraying his diseased Nature.

Personality: Despite all his appearances and the suppositions many have about him, Maltara is a jovial being. He enjoys talking the finer points of the merits of civilization, the best methods of recovery from illness, and how best to stave off an early grave. Pleasant and charming though he is, he is relentless in his pursuit of a better and stronger world, as he sees it. He desires to infect the world with all the plagues that he can create and foster, so that only the strong survive to worship him.  He is ruthless to those he feels are weak, however, and feels no pity or mercy when they die or fail, doing his best to expedite it whenever possible. He does this, as one would expect, through a series of diseases, set up in an order that tests every possible angle of weakness and vulnerability. Those who approach him and survive this ordeal become his most chosen servants. Those who do not are discarded, dying a miserable and terrible death.

Teachings: The body is the door to the soul, and the soul must be strong in order to prevail in this terrible world. You cannot expect the world to be kind to you, so you must be unkind to it back. Maltara is both the god of diseases and the god of recovery from disease, so it is in his ultimate control over who lives and dies from his disease. Most times, however, he will leave it up to your body to determine your fate, and if you were young, old, or infirm, it is extremely likely that you will perish. This is done to make the world a stronger place, one where disease is all pervasive but everyone is strong enough to fight it off.

Abode: Maltara lives in the Deep Fens, on the border with the Accursed territory of the Iron Marches. His army of hearty soldiers and strong, disease ridden veterans are the front line in the battles against the Accursed. Maltara takes a very specific pride knowing that, many times, it is simply him and his hand picked warriors standing between the Accursed and the complete annihilation of the Paltonarchs.

Clergy: The Clerics of Maltara tend to the ill and dying, watching over them when their families will or cannot. Though their god may not assist the diseased, he has no problem with his clerics taking his recovery aspect of his portfolio to heart. What does not kill one, only makes them stronger. Many of his clerics are immune to the plagues that wash over the land, having been exposed to them many times over, though they also tend to breath out the very corruption they seek to save in others. As carriers and healers, they function ans the perfect vessel of paradox as their master. Most Churches of Maltara are located well outside of the towns and cities they serve, keeping their deathly services far from the population at large.

Knightly Orders: The Contagion Legion is a strong and powerful warrior cult centered on the Malataran principle of hearty constitution and infection. The order seeks out orphans and trains them riggorusly in the ways of a strong body, and then when they are strong and fit enough, they expose them to the myriad of contagions that they harbor.  Those we are weak either die or are exiled, and In their weakened condition, many of even those who survive to be exiled perish. Those strong enough are welcomed into the legion and are sent on missions vital to the god of Blight.

Clerical Attire/colors: The Clerics of Maltara prefer to wear the colors of their god, a simple and vile green color that evokes illness and bile. These clothes are often trimmed in a bone and cream color  around the wrists and cowl, along with parallel stripes running down the center of the chest. Additionally, at the highest of ranks, they will pierce their tongue with a shortened nail to show their dedication to the god. Many die, but those who live are the most vaunted of priests.

Followers: Most of Maltaras followers are priests, able to hold disease at bay or even be completely immune to it.  There are a few barbarian tribes and warrior cultures who worship disease, but they are few and far between.

Driim, Accursed of the Moon

Other Titles:  Moonglow, Tidemaker, Wisperer, The Great Mischief

Alignment: NE

Weapon: Hook Swords (Kamesh and Vesheth, the two moons)

Major Domains: The Moon, Tricks, Curses

Minor Domains:  Tides, Secrets, Riddles

Totem Animal/ Warform: Owl

Holy Symbol:  A white medallion, with a single cresting wave in the center.

Favored Appearances: Driim is a solitary man,  not prone to visiting the material world. However, when he decides to visit, it is generally to wander quietly, escaping the chaos of the Iron Marches.

In his male form, he is round and smooth, a hairless and harmless man. His face is round, with even rounder features. his bulging eyes are creamy white, as if blind, though he seems to see just fine regardless of the light quantity or quality. His cheeks are prominent and round and has a bulbous, pockmarked nose.  His chin is swallowed up in his neck, the rolls of fat nearly obscuring it.  He wears a meticulously cleaned large, single piece hooded robe, a light nearly white blue. His hood is pulled over his head, his arms crossed within its enormous sleeves and the waist tied under his bulging belly with a white dyed rope.  He speaks in riddles and puzzles, as though he knows a great deal more than he lets on.  When pressed, he may speak succinctly, but it is never his preferred form and is almost always caustic.

His female form is only slightly less offensive, though this time it pulls in the opposite direction. Still clothed in the blue-white robe, She is hairless and emaciated, bony arms jutting out at sharp angles, with a skeletal face and the same milky white eyes, this time sunk deep into her eye sockets. Her nose is long and also pockmarked, and an angular chin cuts her face sharply off. When she speaks, her fetid breath wafts out, lending all of her speech a final, deathly air.

Personality: Driim is dry and boring, though he loves to deceive people into making a fool out of themselves, calling his mischief simple tricks. Those who are deceived by them are obviously to easily duped. He speaks in riddles and obfuscation, tying his sentences into knots for other to unravel. When crossed and tricked himself, he easily and causally tosses dreadful curses at those who have wronged him, bringing ruin and suffering onto them and their family. He cares not about the collateral damage that he commits, finding it simply the justice that they have brought onto themselves. At his very best, he is secretive and closed. At his worst, he is a devastating deliverer of undeserved curses and unearned misfortune

Teachings: Driim teaches that the world is a dark and terrifying place, and that even in the light of day, there are those who are betrayers and turncoats around every corner. Fool them, make them look like what they truly are. Curse them so that their deeds will reap the repercussions that they so rightly deserve, and keep your secrets dear, for only that which you tell no one is truly safe.

While this seems to embrace a certain state of paranoia, there is an underlying current in the teachings that make it known that these people should be exposed, and that they should, at any chance, be forced into admitting their faults. The moons are always around and know the absolute truths. What they know, Driim knows. Swearing to the Moons is still held to be the most binding of oaths, even though he is an accursed.

Abode: Driim lives in the White Sanctuary, a castle made of marble and alabaster deep within the Accursed territory in the iron marches. Here, his legion of slaves cleans the corrosion of the plane from his walls, scouring away at them night and day. His dedication to maintaining his colors even here is fanatical, even though her rarely entertains visitors.

Cultists: The Cultists of Driim are dour, sour folk who are known to spew curses and diatribes against those who have wronged them. They stick to the edges of society, seldom forming into groups, afraid to reveal their secrets to anyone, even each other. They do like to commit little tricks to flummox the towns and cities they live in, and some towns are said to be moon cursed if they experience to many of these ill fortunes. a Coven of Moon Cultists will conspire to bring down the leader of their town or city, citing him as a false leader and aspiring to replace him with one of their own. They keep well to the shadows, however, secreting their allegiance and their ultimate goal.

Clerical Attire/colors: Simple blue-white robes and clothes are preferred, though they are not required. Some prefer to wear a simple moon disk, but many times they will have the holy symbol on the reverse of an expected and well revered church in the area, as well, defacing and desecrating the symbol.

Followers: Thieves and Wizards, along with Warlocks and barristers all can gravitate towards the worship of Driim. Sometimes, political leaders will fall in with the worship of Driim if only to stay in power and not be supplanted, though it is  inevitably only a matter of time. 

Condaral, God of the Skies

Other Titles: Lightwielder, Skyking, Prince of Clouds

Alignment: CG

Weapon: Longbow (Revelation)

Major Domains: Sky, Air, Ice

Minor Domains:  Sun, Light, Daytime, Breezes

Totem Animal and Warform:  Gold Eagle

Holy Symbol: Two icicles, the left smaller by half then the right.

Favored Appearances: Conadral is a small, hawklike person in both of his favored aspects, and prefers to blend in rather than be noticed. His male form is of average height, around 5’8″, and of an average build. His eyes are a fierce ice blue and set within an a fairly feminine and angled face. His brow is high, as is his cheekbones, but his aquiline nose is his most prominent feature. He keeps his blond hair close cut and is clean shaven at all times. He will generally take the form of a human, but is equally known to be found in elven form.

His favored Female form is that of a human almost exclusively, and looks very similar to the male form, except for the slightly more feminine form and features. The same close cut blond hair, the same ice blue eyes and the same nose. Though many gods forms could be construed as family members, Conadrals forms are as close to twins as it gets. Both forms carry longbows and are excellent shots and hunters as well.

Personality: Conadral lives and breathes for freedom and justice, though he sees much more value in the less combative ways of achieving those goals than his brother Takannas.  Instead of violently opposing those who he views as oppressing others, he seeks to educate and elevate those who are being oppressed – a different side of the same coin. He enjoys nothing more than the freedom to do whatever whim strikes him, be it fly the skies, bed a beautiful person, or teach the peasants on a barons farm to read.  However, he strives continuously not to step on other peoples freedoms when exercising his own. He values even the most loathsome persons right to do what they want as long as others aren’t harmed int eh process. To many, Conadral is the patient and wise god, one who’s council is sought on many occasions and highly regarded.

For all his values, however, he is a terrifying fighter, a warrior and consummate fighter who has taken the field thousands of times against the demon armies of the Accursed.  When all else fails, violence is a completely acceptable answer and it can, and should, be pursued to its fullest end once evoked.

Teachings: The god of the Skies teaches to be open and willing to receive both knowledge and wisdom from all sources, and to be part of the solution when problems arise.. Be a leader in your community and world, break down the barriers between people and create freedom and openness for all. Each day, each cycle, is an opportunity to go out and make a difference in the lives of those around you. Be mindful, however, of their freedoms, and do not overstep your bounds. Offer to help, but take a step back when your help is not needed. Be the person who all can turn to for advice, but tread that knife edge carefully, do not become vainglorious and self-assured. Be humble when leading, and look deeply at the consequences before acting.

Abode: Conadral lives in the Flying Citadel, a simple fortress of ice and wind on an enormous cloud. He can guide it where he is needed most, and his army of flying warriors can descend into a battle to take the fight to the enemy from above. Said to have a hundred spires each with a hundred rooms, it is thought by some to have been created from cloudstuff solidified by elven mages on Kasan and then transported somehow to the Iron Marches for him to live in and wage war from.

Clergy: Clerics of Conadral tend to be a semi-wandering lot, though they will sometimes stay for six or seven years in a single location before moving on. They attempt to inspire and educate the many people that they come across, and when they find somewhere that direly needs their attention, they will set up a permanent abode and live with that community until there is such a time as they feel they no longer rely on him. At that time, he will recruit a young and promising apprentice and move on, leaving the apprentice that had shown up in town with to tend the flock until he, too, feels the call of other lands.

Knightly Orders: One of the great organizations on Kasan, the Blue Knights of Conadral are both feared and revered. They accept only volunteers to their esteemed company, and many are rejected for lack of skill, intelligence and compassion. While they were originally founded to protect sacred sights to the God of the Skies, they have transformed into a powerful fighting force.  While they do live, study and train in high peaks and great open plains, they are approachable by any to plead their cause. those causes that are found to be the most worthy and beyond reproach by the High Marshall of the abbey are rewarded with a company of Blue Knights, each supposedly worth more than a hundred other warriors on the fields.

Clerical Attire/colors: Conadrals colors are cream and brilliant blue, and his priests wear little other than a tunic and britches made of the brightest blues, trimmed and rimmed with cream. Many of the highest clerics wear brilliant white caps of various complexity and ornateness to show their status and stature within the church.

Followers: As with the four other elemental gods, Condaral has a broad appeal to mages, warriors and priests. He is also the patron of many craftsmen and merchants for his self-reliance, and to a strong number of peasants and commoners due to his specific teachings.

Kara, Goddess of Thieves

Other Titles: The Black Hand, She of Shadows, Lightless, Silent Death

Alignment: CN

Weapon: Dagger (Final Conclusion)

Major Domains: Thieves, Trickery, Deception

Minor Domains:  Luck, Ambition, Assassins, Absolution

Totem Animal: Serpent. Specifically the venomous, poisonous serpents.

Holy Symbol: A large, straight dagger, pointed downward, gleaming from the tip.

Favored Appearances: Kara generally favors a female form, but has no problems taking a male form as well, if it suits her. Though she takes on whatever form is needed to accomplish her goals, she has some specific traits she leans to when on the prime.  Her female form is homely and nondescript, though pretty enough to catch the eye of those men or women she feels she needs to seduce for a night or longer. She is unremarkable when she desires and can burn in your mind when she finds it useful. Her hair is mid length, and often a light brown, and she dresses modestly, though not poor. She wears no jewelry or other distinctive markings, though she does carry her dagger wherever she goes.

Her male form is one that stands out and gets attention, though not in a good way. He has dark hair and eyes, with a close cut beard of the same shade. He fumbles about along his way, seeming to alternately limp and stumble forwards. He keeps his eyes down, his clothes plain, and his voice low.

Warform:  A venomous serpent composed  of whirling stone and ice, her warform slides forward into battle. Unlike most serpents, hers has a barb on the tail dripping with venom as well as fangs as large around as a mans thigh made of lightning. Her main form of combat is that of a swift strike from either her fangs or her barb, and she is equally deadly with both.

Personality: Kara is an unrepentant thief with little morals with endless lies pouring from her mouth. Yet she alone may have saved the Paltonarchs from a miserable end by personally slaying Ferosh, betraying the young rebels and turning herself in to the Paltonarch leadership. Though there is little to believe about her, her loyalty to the cause has never wavered. She has personally slain a number of Accursed, and continues to deceive and trick her way into and out of their camps, gathering information and slaying vital assets. She is prickly about her status, and while she is convinced she took the correct action in betraying the Young Rebels, she does not feel that she is truly welcome at all times.

Teachings: Kara is truly a dark teacher, one of the great vile minds in the Paltonarch ranks. She teaches subversive and dangerous lessons to her followers: Lie, Cheat and Steal: What you can take is yours by right. To build upon that, she also teaches that ones life is always greater than that of any others, and preserving your own life in any way necessary is the very basis of existence. She preaches skill and honing your craft, but she also teaches that it is better to be lucky than good. Finally, she teaches not to be content with your position in life. always seek to ursurp and overtake those with better status and or means than you. Take what you can, and leave nothing behind.

Abode: Kara lives in the Darkened Deep, a labyrinth of tunnels leading to a great underground keep carved completely out of obsidian. Its dark, dank and full of snakes. From here, Kara works with the darker side of the Paltonarchs war, leading surgical strikes and deep reconnaissance as needed.

Clergy: Kara has few clergy that worship her and spread the word as she is deemed, while a worthwhile asset, treacherous and dangerous. Those who do keep her faith are tolerated as long as they do not break the laws, a tall order, or sometimes, when they are the law.

Knightly Orders: While the order would not be considered Knightly, Kara does have a sect of extremely devoted followers. They call themselves the Adders Fangs, and they are assassins that seek out and slay the richest and most wealthy beings that they can find. While many times that means killing powerful merchants and great lords, every once in a while it will entail rounding up a group of like minded folk and heading into a dungeon to plunder a lichs tomb or to slay a powerful dragon and collect its hoard. These dark and sinister people are also for hire – For the right price, and have been known to end whole wars before they can start for their clients.

Clerical Attire/colors: Clerics of Kara are known as the faceless, as they are all sworn to wear a black, opaque cloth mask. It is not known whether or not they can see through it, however, as some seem extremely clumsy, yet others can be said to “look” you right in the eye. They wear navy blue shirts and trousers, and tend to be armed both with a standard short sword for defense, but also a curved, snakeheaded dagger is always on their person.

Followers: Assassins, thieves and thugs are among Karas most reverent followers, but there are also wizards, warriors and strong men who follower her as  well.

As my brother has been relating, I’ve taken my party down into a silver mine outside the town of Metarius, just east of the City of Parminium, in western Killbar. This means nothing to most of you, but thats alright. Today I’m not going on about my world, but about how I went about building a dungeon. I want to talk about Parminium, Killbar, ect, but I have to wait until each of those parts pan out and are explained to the players before I get really into it.

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Mutaren, Accursed of Transformation

Other Titles: He Who Shifts, the Changeling, Father Chaos, Master of Change

Alignment: CN

Weapon: Spiked Chain ( Howling Death)

Major Domains: Transformation, Change, Rage,

Minor Domains:  Chaos, Lycanthyropy, Shapeshifting. Adapting

Totem Animal: Any/All /none – As the Master of Change and transformation, Mutaren has all animals and none. He seems to show is favor and present omens with chimeric creatures: Owlbears, Bulettes, Chimeras and other hybrids.

Holy Symbol: The Changing Man: A man spread eagle with the head of a Wolf, one arm a serpent, the other a wing, and each leg different as well, one of a feline the other a stag.

Favored Appearances: Though Mutaren enjoys many forms, and even changing between them, he does have a semi-permanent form the seems to shift to and from. In both his male and female forms he takes similarly grotesque appearances. His male form, though, is dominated by the deformities of a massive club foot, a shriveled right arm, and a nearly missing nose. His hair is patchy and wiry both on his head and around his body. He speaks with a barely whispered voice that can easily be missed if one isn’t paying attention.

His female form is dominated by the a massive left arm, a right leg that is almost 3 inches shorter than the left, and both ears missing from the side of her head. Hair, some fine and some coarse, covers most of her visible skin, contrasted by long, silky locks of blond hair that flows from her head and down her back.

In combat or when needed, though, Mutaren will drastically change his form to suite what is needed and is a consummate combatant, shifting his body shape, hardness and weight to his best advantage

Warform: The Warform of Mutaren is that of an ever shifting maelstrom of claws,fangs and tentacles formed of all four elements. Truly a child of the elements, he combines all four in a roiling mass of death, with Talons of Ice changing into a Psudopod of Fire and Jaws of lightning shifting into heavy wings of granite and marble

Personality: While Mutaren is a chaotic person of immutable forms and infinite rage, he is a very stable person otherwise. His strong rage is contained and let loose when needed but otherwise kept firmly under control. Surprisingly, he is extremely learned and educational to talk to, being a sage in the fields of the elements, of wild beasts and the application of Transmutational Magics. Though many would think his chaotic and ever changing nature would prevent him from learning, it is almost completely the opposite. He quickly tires of many things, but only after achieving mastery of them: How else can one correctly assess a situation and adapt to its needs?

All of this, however, cannot conceal his every changing physical aspects, his quick temper and his unabated embrace of both freedom and rage.  Once he is tipped over the edge and into his furious anger, there is little that can stop him short of the complete destruction of the target of his ire. he will constantly adapt and change his both mental state, short of ending his rage, and his physical form to best confront this enemy of his, and will often times destroy many innocent people in his blinded state, and though he acknowledges his acts, he has never once shown remorse for his actions.

Teachings: Above all, Mutaren teaches to embrace change, either in your body or your mind. The very apex of adaptation is embracing change without hardship. Secondary to that is the complete acceptance and acceptance of your rage, and that that rage can be used to transform you completely. Sometimes its a wild and uncontrolled rage, and sometimes its a cold, focused fury. These transformations are the key to understanding who and what you are and where you belong. The more you can change yourself, the more you can belong in the world around you. The chaos of keeping your mind and body constantly aware of and receptive to change will harden you and transform you even more. Never accept what you are, always strive to become better, become more than what you are, even at the cost of others. If they cannot change they must be thrown aside, and the same is true for society, government, family and friends. If it does not adapt, if it does not change, it must be discarded.

Abode: Mutaren lives in an ever changing labyrinth called the Stones of Chaos. This hideout deep in the heart of Accursed territory is where he will wander around contemplating the order of chaos, the sounds of silence and the darkest recesses of light itself. Here he will, alone, test the very limits of how and what he can mutate in himself, often loosing himself completely in a new form or body for days or weeks at a time.

Cultists: Cultists who follow Mutaren are strong willed individuals who have come to see transformation and change as the foundations of the world. They reach out to those afflicted with physical or mental problems and tempt them into their world of rage and change. From here they seek to change themselves through mystical rituals, potions of dubious and untested nature and physical tests of endurance and pain. Mutarens cults are not tolerated well, as they are seen as agents of discord and dissonance by the powers that be, and rightly so.

Clerical Attire/colors: Mutaren favors dull oranges and light grays, with followers often wearing robes, tunics and broaches of those colors. His Changing man is often tattooed over the heart to denote complete devotion to the Accursed of Chaos. and is often, strangely, the one thing they will not mutate on their body through their strange and mystical ways. The head cultists will often have beast-head helms and masks that they wear, and change often, during rituals and sacraments, with the best and most powerful of them being able to transform their actual heads.

Followers: Mutaren is worshiped by many lycanthropes and shapechangers, as well as a number of warriors, Transmuters and even a few conjurers who tap deep into the well of reality to pull out completely new forms of existence.

Kashua, Accursed of Blood

Other Titles: Bloody One, She the All Seeing, The Final Breath

Alignment: NE

Weapon: Sickle ( Dream Sever)

Major Domains: Blood, Dying, Divination

Minor Domains:  Famine, Bad Omens, Harvest

Totem Animal: Vulture

Holy Symbol: A single, bright red blood drop, often stylized, with the drop encasing a howling skull. Sometimes this is worn on a necklace or a bracelet, but it is worn as a circlet as well, with the blood drop settling between the eyes.

Favored Appearances: Kashua is often seen walking the earth, but it is not a pleasant tiding. Her favorite form of a wizened old man or woman tend to share the same features. Long, dying gray hair with cataract covered eyes, hunching over a walking stick of some sort. Both have lost most of their teeth and seem to be at the end of their lives. They always seem to be followed by vultures as if to telegraph their imminent demise. Both speak slowly and deliberately, never lying or attempting to deceive the listener. Her appearance in an area spooks the locals, who see in her both the coming of fall and the signs of the first frost in her footsteps both portents of the hard winter to follow.

Warform: A vulture of great size, as all warforms, hers is composed of solid rock, somehow afloat on the air none the less. Its Beak and Talons are sharp and made of obsidian while her feathers are carved in intricate patterns, often with shrieking faces being visible. She tends to lead armies on recon missions and attempts to outflank and out maneuver. with her ability to divine the future, she is always a great assett.

Personality:  The Accursed of Blood is a solitary individual. She keeps to herself and makes no lasting bonds with others. She is selfish and needy, as well, requiring attention from whoever seeks her out, and desiring to keep what she has attained for herself. Those who follow her and revere her offer up to her enormous amount of blood as sacrificial offers, and she receives it all, regardless of source. She has a small conflict with Ariannas, the Paltonarch of Banditry and violence due to the amount of unconsecrated blood she spills and wastes on a daily basis. Her association with the Accursed comes from the sly words of Ferosh, who brought to her awareness her vital connection to all the creatures in the world and that without her, without her massive power, their would be no life! She took this to heart and believes that the wrongs she is suffering now are the fault of the Paltonarchs not acknowledging the primacy of the younger gods, and the fault and blame of all the decisions made since then lies squarely on the four gods of the Elements.

Teachings: Kashua’s Teachings are fairly straight forward. She is the lifeblood of all living beings. As the Goddess of both Blood and Harvest, she has the ability to kill with a single displeasure. She is also the god of dying: not death, or the afterlife, simply the act of passage between one form of existence and the other. She believes that life is a choice and that if you so desire both suicide and death in combat or some such other means is a glorious, well deserved, end. To honor the goddess of blood is with living sacrifices, swift harvest and bloody deaths. What was once a well respected and admired following have now become ostracized on the outskirts of society.

Abode: Kashua lives in the Avra Geldura,  the old tongue phrase that roughly translates the beginning of blood. A dark maroon wooden structure deep within the mercury and Lead swamps in the heart of the Iron Marches, it is from here that she makes her stories and attacks deep into the contested lands.

Cultists: Those who follow Kashua are branded as lunatics and heretics among their societies.  Believing that bleeding out their sacrificial victims and letting them expire over the longest space of time will assist in harvests and prevent Famine, they are only sought out in the very worst of times to either alleviate plague or to bring a much needed boost to an ailing crop.  with their ability to divine the cause of the problems and the best possible outcome, they can spell out the best way to appease the goddess. Often demanding the the best and largest animal with the most blood for sacrifce, and have been known to bleed out animals for hours before letting them expire. Often, these fanatics are lone hermits in the deepest parts of the woods or high in the hills simply to perform their devotions to their chosen god in peace.

Clerical Attire/colors:  The colors of the goddess of blood are lighter tans and grays, with a rope of blood red or deep maroon around the waist. Their worship and sacrificial robes are very different, with each drop of  blood bringing character to the sacrificial robes. Priests often wield no weapons and carry no arms but a single sacrificial sickle that is used to open veins and arteries.

Followers: Most of her followers are loners and hermits, with a few doctors, teachers and farmers mixed in. Warriors and assassins also often worship her, so that when the day comes, their blood may work their way into her already massive power and grant them status in the afterlives.

Few Succeed.