Amaaran, Accursed of Grief

Other Titles: The Laughing God, Bringer of Tears, The Dark Comfort

Alignment: NE

Weapon: Throwing Knives (Pain and Suffering)

Major Domains: Grief, Loss, Tragedy

Minor Domains:  Comedy, Fear, Tears

Totem Animal/Warform: Black Cat/Panther ( The warform is made of crumbling earth and falling rocks, claws of onyx and obsidian)

Holy Symbol: A white candle with a black flame, often on a background of red 

Favored Appearances: Amaaran, like most accursed, rarely takes to Kasan, and thus his favored appearances are fairly uncommon. When he walks, however, it is generally in the form of a weary human, often road worn and weeping. His clothing is tattered and dirty, and he shows the signs of a recent lack of food. His hair is shortcut and blonde, looking bedraggled and unkempt, but recently so. His unshod feet are bruised and bleeding most often, looking recently to have gone barefoot.

His Female form is a similar, wasting form of a woman, though she tends to be taller and slightly heavier-set, at least originally, and her hair is slightly longer, but could never be described as long.  Both the forms have unnatural features from grief and lack of food, with their once round and joyous faces now sunken and shallow, with their angular bones starting to express themselves through the tightening skin. Both forms, as well, have the same dark grey eyes seemingly constantly clouded with tears.

Personality: Amaaran is a dark being, obsessed with the tragedy and folly of life, but also with the dark laughter and the eventual reprieve that comes from it, though he is one of the few beings, gods or accursed, left that truly take pleasure in the suffering of mortals. Being the bearer and harbinger of both grief and loss eventually eats at the compassion that once may have been there, but Amaaran shows no evidence of ever having had that compassion. His dark laughter and jokes, as well as the grief and sorrow he spreads are both merciless and unending. He spares no one, there is no reprieve, not from his dark glare.

Teachings: The philosophy of Amaaran is as dark as he is. There is no happieness that is not fleeting, there is no moment safe. Tragedy and loss strike all, and unequally. Some will have his dark gaze all their life, and others will have but a moment. There are no ways to avoid the troubles that Amaraan brings. What you can do, however, is absorb it, and let the grief and loss become part of you, weeping when needed, laughing when needed, and succumbing to the fear when needed. There is no escape, and succumbing to the grief and fear and pain is simply the final step in realizing that.

Abode: Amaaran lives in the Bleak Stronghold, sitting atop a rise of lead and rusted iron on the edges of the Accursed Territory. Its high, broken towers and thick brooding walls display the darkest of dread and most terrifying of sadness.

Cultists: In a strange twist of fate, many of the greatest playwrights and poets of Kasan are secret cultists of Amaaran, for they bring both comedy and tragedy to life in their words and through their actions. What greater way is there to spread both grief and comedy than through performances. Though they form an informal brotherhood and don’t speak often, when they do collaborate, they can write the most rending and powerful of plays. It has been said that one play that was written long ago by a cabal of Amaaran worshiper playwrights was so powerfully tragic that the first time it was performed, the entire city it was in went mad with grief and thousands took their own lives and the lives of others in a single night.

Clerical Attire/Colors: Followers of the faith wear dark grays, blacks and dull, pale whites, though they have no formal preference for robes, collars or other such formalities, they simply gravitate tot he colors of gloom and darkness. Often their entire wardrobe will be of those few tones, and they are drab and uninteresting to look at.

Followers: Poets, mostly, and playwrights. Authors and philosophers will also reach out and embrace the teachings quite readily. Warriors and rogue types have an exceptionally hard time understanding the tenants of the faith, as they encounter death of both their enemies and their friends often, and generally become inured to such grief and pain.

Salphan, Accursed of Dreams

Other Titles: Dreambreaker, Doomweaver, King of the Unknowable

Alignment: NG

Weapon: Shortbow (Thought Piercer)

Major Domains:  Dreams, Nightmares,Mystery

Minor Domains:  Revelation, Honesty, Whispers

Totem Animal/Warform:  Owl (His warform comprised of Fire and Ash)

Holy Symbol: A Yellow, Clawed hand holding a lidless eye between its thumb and forefinger

Favored Appearances: Salphan prefers the company of those he deems educated and perceptive enough to understand his messages and whispers. To that end, he most often adopts the form of a scholarly elf with generally angular features, graying hair and golden-yellow eyes.The robes that Salphan wears are a dull, pale yellow and are so voluminous as to conceal all most all of his physical form. His hand, as well as his face, are able to be seen clearly.  Both forms he takes has the face as the focal point, each exemplifying the most primal and basic concepts of each. The man has a large, powerful forehead and a heavy, dominating brow, much more like a human than an elf. His nose is broken, bent, and flattened, and his deepset eyes glow with vigor and life. The Female has a thin face, with high cheekbones and large, wide eyes shaded with dainty eyebrows and a small, thin forehead. Both have thin, dainty hands best used for writing, with little use for weapons.

Personality: Salphan is quite generous, but he is also fond of mystery and the act of discovering what that mystery means, sometimes providing in strange and mysterious ways which no one understands until after the fact. He loves mystery, but knows nothing about the future, which leads many of his nightmares and dreams to be about discovering the truth about oneself or the past. He is extremely interested in seeing how the current races and peoples handle the truth of the past, where they come from, and what they are meant to be. Quiet, calm and collected, he is the smartest of the hotheads that are the Accursed, and though he speaks rarely, his counsel is often heeded when he does.

Teachings: Salphan teaches that the greatest of revelations comes from learning the truth and understanding the mystery beyond something. The key to these revelations and truth are gleaned from the nightmares and dreams that one experiences, as they are truly the greatest expression of ones inner self. Using these dreams and interpreting them to the highest standards of intellectual pursuit is the quickest and strongest method of empowerment. However, there is much to be feared in dreams and reality, and what some embrace, others fear. Nothing is quite so feared as knowledge that others do not understand, be wary of those who confuse your knowledge with the capacity and desire to do harm

Abode: Salphan lives on the edges of the Accursed lands in the Iron Marches in the Nightmare Spire, a black and bronze edifice of his own construction. the grounds of the spire are an intricate garden of basalt, rust and lead in a thousand razorsharp configurations with only one true path through.

Cultists: The Cult of Salphan hide their true nature not because they believe they are doing anything wrong, but because they find themselves, in their eyes, wrongly persecuted.  Interpreters of dreams and nightmares are seen as doing accursed work, and those who experience those same dreams and nightmares are of ill portent themselves. The cultists, however, see themselves as doing the right thing and helping the common person, or perhaps a king or noble of some sort, to more completely understand themselves. Few see the benefit of using the accursed for this type of assistance, but their knowledge and ability to interpret these messages has lead them to be the most accepted of the Accursed Cultists, a terribly held secret within almost all lands. 

Knightly Orders: There is a secret society of Warriors of Salphan, the Dreamstriders, who have learned to go into dreams and exist in them for short times. In the Waking World simple minutes have passed, but the dreamstriders have existed for lifetimes in the realm of the dream. In the Dream Relm, however, they seek out the dreams and nightmares of others in order to expand their knowledge and power of the great movers and shakers in the Waking world. Dreams are dangerous places, and they have scoured thousands on thousands and transformed into extremely skilled warriors.

Clerical Attire/colors: Salphans colors are a somber, dull yellow and an iron gray, typically taken together as Iron and Topaz. His followers will almost always wear a single topaz of some sort, often carved into a vague eye, somewhere on their person. Those who flaunt his worship wear a single earring featuring the Iron Eye and Topaz.

Followers: Mages, Clerics and some wiley bards are those who lean furthest to Salphans worship, and the majority are from those professions. Oracles, Soothsayers and other prophets also can end up worshiping him, though it is his ability to know the truth that they seek from him, not the actual future sight itself.

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. 

Xe, Accursed of Ferocity

Other Titles: The Wild King, Unnameable, Scourge of Civilization

Alignment: CE

Weapon: Claws

Major Domains: FerocitySavagery, Feral Animals

Minor Domains:  Erosion, Natural Calamities, Cannibalism

Totem Animal: Hyena (The warform is composed of Wind, Lightning and clouds)

Holy Symbol: A simple, left-curving bone Claw or Fang, sometimes with a background of deep green.

Favored Appearances: Xe is a wild and unkempt creation, and both his forms display that lack of regard for personal hygiene and his inability to care for himself in any way. His male for is that of a ragged and tattered elven man, Long past the point of deprivation. He wears old, tattered leggings, stained with blood and dirt. Shirtless, his skin is drawn tight across his rib cage, creating a horrid, nearly starved look. his black, greasy hair reaches well past his shoulder blades, and hang loose, creating a disgusting mane. The skin around his face is tight, creating an almost skull like effect, with his eyes are sunk deep in his head, his lips pulled back to show yellow, rotten teeth. Thankfully, he chooses an elven form, as his facial hair is light and sparse but coarse. The only sign of even the barest hint of intelligence beyond his breeches are the articulated metal gauntlets that end in great bone claws in place of his amputated final digits on his fingers.

His female form is of the same gaunt stature and taken care of in the same neglectful manner, though generally takes the form of a female human instead of elven, for reasons known only to Him. Her hair is more flat, lying along her back as if it has just stormed, and a vivid brown. Her eyes are a fiery green, where his are only pools of darkness. She too, is gaunt, with features marred by the singular lack of any signs of health. Its as if Xe stayed a single night, death would come in the night from starvation.

Personality: Xe is the wildness and the ruthlessness of nature, combined with the uncaring and violent destruction of storms all wrapped into one package. He is almost completely alien, even to the other Paltonarchs and Accursed. Many wonder if Xe even has intelligence, though those who know him are keenly aware that even if it is not intelligence, its the vicious cunning of a predator.  He is wild and quick to anger, though swift also to forget and let those who wronged him moments before approach. He holds no grudges, and does not despair when those around him perish or fail.  He is the uncaring claws and fangs of the universe, and he loves it.

Teachings: Xe does not teach through priests and doctrine, but by example. He hunts only enough to barely satisfy his hungers, but he will kill those he finds dangerous or who confront him. He tolerates other predators within his same space, but only as long as they respect his boundaries. Those who are strong, in times of need, take what they can from the week, but not simply because they can, but to survive.  There is also strong reverence for the ferocious, untamed and wild beasts of all types, as they are the most free creatures in the universe. They live only to eat, to kill and to pass on their legacy; and that is what Xe Stands for.

Abode: Xe lives in no man made, or god made, structure. He wanders the bleak and desolate places of the Iron Marches, sleeping in caves and under the cover of trees. A simple and violent entity, his existence is one constantly on the edge of annihilation, staving it off one day at a time.

Cultits: The Cult of Xe is one that has no internal structure or strata; there are simply equals among the wilderness of existence. Those few who follow him ask him for guidance in the hunt, to find enough to eat to stave off death for but a single day. Living squalid lives in caves, caverns and ruins, these cultist are a scourge on any society they live near, killing and eating whatever is vulnerable.

Clerical Attire/colors: The natural colors of golden grass, dark, rotting vegitation and the black clouds and earth are the colors of Xe. 

Followers: Few Follow Xe, though many are warriors and rogues. Rangers of a particularly vile bent may also worship him. Few Dwarves connect with the lord of savage wilderness, though many feral spirits and fey do.

Rashban, Accursed of Rivers

Other Titles: The Endless Rage, Queen of Floods,  Drowner

Alignment: LN

Weapon: Harpoon (Piercer)and Hooked Net

Major Domains: Rivers, Speed, Determination

Minor Domains:  Floods, Drowning, Swimming

Totem Animal: Crocodile

Holy Symbol: A Black river splitting a gold mountain in two.

Favored Appearances: Rashban is an aloof and detached woman, but easily the greatest fighter that the Accursed have at their call. Once a god of water, she is now the perfect foil to the Fire Families war gods. As such, she is nearly always armed and armored when encountered in either form,  and is of strong build and powerful frame.

In her Female form, she is of average height, never topping 5″10″ and of a physique that suggests working for her living all her life. Her curly blue-black hair flows down to her shoulders and seems to pile up on them in pools. Her eyes are crystal blue, almost white, set in a round, expressive face.  Frown lines are nestled deep in her cheeks and her face seems to rest as a simple scowl. what little joy that there is in life, she seems to never encounter it. She wears supple and light leather armor, dyed a deep and shimmering cerulean blue. When she knows that she will be in battle, she wears a leather helm that covers her entire face, eyes and all, using her other senses and her abilities as an Accursed to fight.

Her form as a man is only slightly different, favoring that of a Dragonborn over all others. Massive, scaled and deep blue, he is often mistaken for the spawn of a blue dragon, though nothing could be farther from the truth. He wears no armor and no shirt, simply a pair of trousers dyed pitch black. his face is stoic and unknowable, able to hide even the most obvious of thoughts within his scaled and myterious face. His eyes are dark, almost black, with no whites or pupils, simply orbs of darkness set in his angular, sharpened skull.  He is covered in nautical tatoos and scars, showing his attachment to the rivers and seas

Warform:  The Warform of the Accursed of Rivers is a Crocodile, massive and covered in scales of Ice and salt. The teeth are massive and made of ice as well, but contained within the scales is a rushing river of churning water. Little escapes the jaws of this massive fighter once engaged, and though the form is bulky, it is surprisingly agile with impressive speed when needed.

Personality: Rashban is a stern, dour woman who has few friends and less confidants. A member of the water family, she tends to be truthful, honest and direct, and sees little value in deceit and duplicity. She laughs little, and sees the world through the grim lenses of the absolute truth, as it is to her. What she believes once, she will believe almost indefinitly, and it takes many arguments to convince her otherwise. She is a strong companion, however, and will commit to any action asked with the full and strong belief that she can, and will, accomplish the task. She believes that she will die in battle on the Iron Marches, slain at the hands of one of the Fire Gods, but she believes that when, not if, that happens, it will be at the turning point of the war, when she alone accomplishes whatever mission is critical and vital to the victory of the Accursed.

Teachings: Rashban is a stern, unbending woman,  and what she values in herself and others is the inability to change, the suborn dedication born of knowing ones correctness and place in he world.  She also takes a stern view on those who go out of their way to try and change their place in the world seeing it as a violation of the natural state of things and the proper balance of the universe. Hold the course, stay the line, and don’t break. Never second guess yourself, and know that what you set out to do can always be accomplished.

Abode: The Drowned Stronghold sits at the bottom of a river of mercury in the darkest recesses of the Accursed held area of the iron marches. Magical barriers keep the mercury out, while the fortress itself is filled with brakish, dark water. Few people walk these halls, but those who do are the grim and dire guardians and companions of the Accursed of Rivers.

Cultists: Those who are drawn to the cult of Rashban tend to be those obsessed with the rivers and the fate that she holds over those who traverse them. They call themselves the Floodbringers, and they see themselves as a very important part of cycle of all things. They wander up and down rivers, scouting out places that are especially vulnerable to flooding, and pray there for the power and mystery of their god to wash away the town and all its terrible inhabitants.

Clerical Attire/colors: The colors of the Accursed of Rivers are simple river colors, with grays and blues of all colors in favor. They tend to wear flowing robes with wide, voluminous sleeves and hoods. the colors tend to be sown in a swirling pattern, and sometimes even are patchworks of other colors all strapped together.

Followers: Rashban tends to gather followers who live within her rivers; Ferrymen, fishermen, and travelers, but also attracts runners, athletes and conservative philosophers.

Tremid, Accursed of Decay

Other Titles: Brother Bloat, Rotfiend, the Great Miser, Defiler

Alignment:  CE

Weapon: Twin Picks (Blight and Spoil)

Major Domains:  Rot, Decay, Greed

Minor Domains:  Corruption, Decadence,

Totem Animal: Swarms of Flies

Holy Symbol: A single large green swamp-bubble with two smaller, popping ones to either side.

Favored Appearances: Tremid rarely sets foot outside of the Endless Moor, but when he does walk among the mortals, he does so in a corpulent form. Both his male and female forms are grossly overweight, and seem as if they couldn’t possibly walk, yet still manage to do so.

His male form is that of a particularly disgusting elf. His hair is cut short and greasy black, sticking to his balding head at unnatural angles, completely unkempt.  He wears a voluminous deep green robe tied at his waist with a single knot on a disgusting yellow cord. His face is a blotchy red, and punctuated with angry pustules and boils. His hands and feet, uncovered both, are blistered and swollen masses, fat and twisted. He carries on himself a seemingly inexhaustible purse of gold, and never has any shortage of people willing to do his bidding for a bit of coin, which he offers constantly.

His female form is no better, an unbelievably round and boisterous Dwarf. Loud and gregarious, she talks endlessly, when she is not eating. Her blond hair is long and knotted, having never been taken care of. Her face has deep set, beady eyes and a round, angry red nose. She wears the same robe and single knotted rope, with the overflowing purse of gold as well. In this form, though, Tremid feels more bold, and makes passes at anyone, male, female or child, that passes by.

Warform: Unlike many other gods, Tremid’s warform is that of many different, smaller forms. He takes the form of a swarm of buzzing, biting, stinging flies of all shapes and sizes. The swarm exists within a biting sandstorm, flaying flesh and blistering soft, exposed organs. They very in form and shape, but many of them, once killed are of gems and stones.

Personality: Tremid is slotfull and greedy to the greater degree than any other god. He is needy and determined, looking for every chance to break down, corrupt and destroy others plans and lives. He exuberantly embraced the rebellion, and was one of the Black Pacts most ardent supporters. He loves the company of others, and while he rarely will leave the Endless Moor, he is constantly throwing lavish parties and inviting many of the Accursed, and sometimes even the Paltonarchs, though they never come. He serves the most vile and terrifying foods alongside the greatest dishes that can be created, tending towards those meals that are fermented, rotting and spoiled alongside fungus and mushroom dishes.

Teachings: Tremid, as the Accursed of Decay, teaches that nothing is stable or permanent, and that all of it must eventually decay, rot and spoil. In many cases, that means embracing the spoilage and making do with it. Scavenging for food, looting trash heaps and other peoples refuse and living in squalor are all concepts that Tremid espouses. He teaches, as well, that the same end is destined for gold and wealth. This, he says, is the driving reason to collect and spend as much and as conspicuously as possible. Gold should be used to acquire those things that make life better for you in the short run, or worse for others. Delectable delicacies, important relics, and genuine art are all things to be coveted and consumed. It is never enough, though, as he never teaches this followers to look forward or protect their belongings, and eventually the priceless painting or delicious food rots away and needs to be replaced with another.

Abode: The Endless Moor is exactly that, a giant fetid swamp in the rear of the accursed territory. It is here that, under the black, reeking mud that he has built his warrens. Nothing here is permanent, and he constantly has his dedicated demons and patrons rebuilding and shoring up his ever crumbling walls.

Cultists: Among the Accursed Cultists, few are despised as much as the cultists of Tremid. Where they walk, food stores spoil, plants rot on the vine, and children are stillborn. Wounds, both emotional and physical fester in the presence of the rotlords chosen. To that end, they often form cabals of their own, congregating outside of society, using proxies to enable them to corrupt and foster decay wherever needed.

Clerical Attire/colors: Dark green and slimy browns are the colors of Tremid, and they are worn in loose, voluminous robes. It is a point of pride for his followers to not bath, clean or take care of themselves in any way, eating everything they want and not caring about the consequences. Almost everything they touch ends up covered in grease, sweat and puss of some sort.

Followers:  Rarely do the followers of Tremid conform to any sort of categorization. Lonely vagabonds with no where to live or the desperate, deprived 10th son of a nobleman or  worthless exiles with an axee to grind have all turned to the worship of Tremid.

Adremach, Accursed of Defense

Other Titles: The Iron Duke, The Bastards Son, Blackheart, Ironfist

Alignment:  LE

Weapon: mace and Shield (Censure and Bulwark)

Major Domains: Cold, Defense, Iron

Minor Domains:  Callousness, Fortifications, Grim Resolve

Totem Animal: Bison: The Bison is enduring, durable and strong. It weathers the cold and stands its ground. As such, it is the perfect animal for the defense-minded Adremach

Holy Symbol: A lone, steel gray tower on a field of black. The Steel Tower is a representation of Adremaches fortress on the Iron Marches as well as the concept of Individual defense.

Favored Appearances:  Adremach is an Accursed who either locks himself away in his tower or who is campaigning in the Godswar. As such, he visits the prime little and individuals less. He has thus developed almost no real disguises, and when walking the prime he appears nearly identical to that of his Iron Marches form. He is large, bulky and imposing, well over 6′ tall and wearing iron armor. His skin is gray-black and his eys are completely black orbs. His hair, while also gray, is a much lighter tone, long and straight. He wears the Iron Diadem, studded with seven rubies and seven diamonds, at all points in time, and carried Censure and Bulwark with him as well.

His female form is almost exactly the same, strong, stocky and ready for battle. The only difference is that her eyes, instead of being solid black, are solid white.

Warform: Adremachs War Form of a bison is formidable and strong, and fittingly made nearly completely of solid ice akin to a massive glacier.  His mane is shaggy snow drifts, and his Hooves and horns are broad, great icicles, sharpened and hardened in battles over eons.  

Personality: Adremach is Staunch and resolute, determined that he is invincible in war and unconquerable in his great tower. He is a great defensive tactician, able to lay siege to the unconquerable and to defend the smallest fragment of ground with the barest of troops.  He knows and embraces his military genius, and has taken it upon himself to lead the Council of Equals, the Accursed Rulership. Though supposedly each of the four members can be voted onto or off of the council, and none are of greater power than any other, Adremach’s unbroken tenure when all others have been replaced at least once, and his familial bond to Ferosh have lead others to defer slightly to his will, and that is the way he likes it. He leads from the center, and while he would never retreat once a battle is engaged, he would do everything within his power to ensure that any confrontation, be it combat or in any other form, takes place at a time and location of his choosing.

Teachings: Adremachs followers are hard-bitten veterans that have followed his teachings, if not him, for a very long time. He speaks to an inviolable defense, a strong response to any offense, and a the necessity of making the hard decisions that will end some lives and save others. Primarily a war god, he is the diametric opposite of the War Gods of the Paltonarchs. They espouse honorable combat, aggression, and strength of will. Adremach teaches stout walls, strong arms, and an indomitable position will win the day. He is also the god of Cold and Iron, espousing their uses and encouraging their existence. He sees winter not as a time to hole up and keep warm, but a time to set out and prepare for the next season of war, surprising his foes, taking their land and fortifying while they hide inside their hovels.

Abode: The Iron Tower stands  at the center of the front lines of the Accursed domains on the iron marches. A Magically constructed tower exactly 30 stories tall and 100 feet, both across and deep.  It is a massive structure that exudes indestructibility.  Many times have the forces of the Paltonarchs reached the Iron Tower, and each time, they have been rebuffed, defeated by the Duke of Cold and his followers, dedicated defenders all.

Cultists: Thankfully, the cultists of Adremach tend to isolate themselves from one another, though there are some that will band together, building fortresses on stolen land and defending their claim through all forms of trials and tribulations. Many, though, are the often callous and cold-hearted officers in the ranks of the nations militaries that achieve their goals with no consequence to the cost. They show their predilection to running, organizing and defending structures and fortifications, however, and are some of the best defensive minds that Kasan ever sees.

Clerical Attire/colors: Unsurprisingly, the colors of Aldremach are grays and blacks.  in Ritual and in life, his followers lean towards wearing the dark and bitter colors of their master. Thankfully, these are also the colors of the commoners, and many times this has been seen as a not to their humble beginnings, though it could be nothing farther from the truth. The followers of Adremach, though they blend in well with the rest of the world, have a hard time fending for themselves. The ritual clothing is a black felt mask and a hooded, solid robe of dark grey.  Those who flaunt his worship and have dedicated themselves to the worship of the Iron Duke wear the iron grays, which is not uncommon, but also embroider or emblazon the Iron Tower on their armor and clothing.

Followers: Warriors, almost exclusively, with a touch of Nobility and those individuals who gravitate towards an extremely strong will to live

This Monday Mythology is not going to be on a god or accursed, but I’ve realized two things about the article series.

The first is that I am up by three on Paltonarchs v. Accursed. This will leave me, at some time, writing back to back Accursed articles for three weeks, unless I do something creative.

the second is that I have jumped right into creating the Accursed without really exploring their motivations, history or really just a general backstory other than the very distilled down bad gods.

I figured I’d take this time, then, to delve a little deeper into the life and times of the Accursed and let them catch up a little bit. Its likely that I’ll go over how the Godswar is fought on the next one, allowing the Accursed to get completely caught up.

Before we get to the Accursed, though, we need to do a little bit more of a digging into how and what the gods are. While the first three articles do plenty of Explaining on the Godswar, Creation, and Cosmology, there is very little behind how the gods, now affect the world and those in it. To understand the Accursed, one must understand all of the deities.

Though the Accursed are truly among the first of the damned, they are not all evil. They are now, however, trapped in the irreversible pact that they have made with the Demon Queen.

This, the Black Pact, stems back to the Siege of Dawn, and the darkest days of the Godswar for the Paltonarchs. The Rebel gods, numbering in their hundreds, with armies millions strong, were laying siege to the Fortress of Dawn, the final stronghold of the Paltonarchs (an Old Killbaran word meaning “Rulers of the Heavens”). Their numbers and armies were of similar, if lesser, numbers.

It was this turning point that decided the entire war, thus far, and has caused millenia of warfare among brother and sisters, fathers and sons. The Prime Accursed, Ferosh, god of Ambition, Trickery and Deception, desired above all things the destruction of the other gods who had oppressed him. He had conceived and executed the Savage Nightfall, slaying numerous powerful gods and setting off the rebellion itself. He had personally slain the god of Luck on that night, and was one of the recipients of an heretofore unknown natural law: The deific slayer of another god will absorb their portfolio and therefore their powers. Ferosh, now the dangerous combination of Luck and Ambition,was approached by one of his fellow rebels, Nemisht, god of Prisons and Confinement, with the proposal of turning the Fortress of the Dawn into the greatest prison in the planes. He would create a race of Guardians who would rival the Paltonarchs in power and capacity, immune to diefic powers and able to forever hold the gates of the fortress shut. Here, at the edge of the world, the enemy would be forever contained, shut in their own fortress.

Many of the rebels cheerfully agreed with this plan. After thousands of years of conflict, they wished the fighting and the death to be finished, and this plan offered the quickest and strongest way to force an end to the fighting. Ferosh seethed! The death of so many of those who defied him were within his grasp if he could just have more time, more power, and just a little bit of luck. Fortunately the Demon Queen was watching this all play out. Those she considered her inferior siblings fought among themselves, and she saw a way to continue the devastation and death. She sent an emissary to Ferosh, an incubus of unparalleled beauty and power. He spoke seductively to Ferosh, telling him of the immense power that could be his, with an ally such as the Demon Queen. while before he was limited to the power and strength of his domain, with her aid that would be eliminated. No one truly knows what was told to Ferosh, but after a fortnight of persuasion, he brought his plan to his closest of allies: Kalboras, Chremiss, Adremach and Kara. Kalboras completely agreed with the plan, with Chremiss and Adremach joining in after some short discussion. Kara, the god of Deception, Trickery and Thieves, agreed vocally after some convincing, but could not, in any frame of mind, agree to a pact with the Demon Queen. She started plotting, based on the timeline Ferosh had given her, to somehow depose him prevent the pact, but Ferosh acted to swiftly to prevent it. He swore his oath to the Demon Queen alongside the Chremiss, Kalborass and Adremach deep in the Iron Marches, the Prison to which the Demon Queen was trapped. Taking their new found power to their followers, they announced their new powers, and invited all to swear the Black Pact. There was turmoil among the rebels which none of the quartet has expected. Some were livid, and others were simply outraged, and within the Hallowed Chambers of the Divine Court, there was chaos. In that chaos, Kara struck and Ferosh met his end, though no one other than Kara has witnessed his end. The Chambers became a bloodbath, with gods slaying each other in a grand melee, those appalled at the Pact attempting to flee or fight its adherents. That night was the greatest single loss of life among all the gods, with the few Pact adherents managing to flee, along with whatever of their armies they could muster. The next day Kara led a contrite army to the doors of the Fortress of Dawn, opened them, and surrendered, explaining the Black Pact to those assembled gods. Conflict resumed across the world, with the Paltonarchs and those who had surrendered among the rebels hunting the now-Accursed gods. Though there were nearly 50 Accursed and hundreds of gods, the Demon Queen proved her worth, for each Accursed hunted down and trapped killed dozens of gods before being slain themselves. The toll on the Paltonarchs was devastating, but they could not turn back. The Accursed suffered, and they too, fell back, and eventually, after long, bloody years, they fled the the Iron Marches, to the Prison of the Demon Queen, where the ever larger armies of the gods could not follow them. They were followed, however, by the Paltonarchs, and the Iron Marches became a land of war. While the armies of humans, dragons, giants, elves and others could not follow their leaders to the Iron Marches, their souls could.

Part of the Black Pact had altered how souls functioned. When a person died, instead of their soul being absorbed into the god that they worshiped or left to wander the Shadow Plane for all eternity if they had no god, they were now pulled directly into the Iron Marches after death. Those who were unclaimed by the gods were given over to the Demon Queen to use as they liked. From the first thousands that were given to her she created the legions of the Iron Marches; Demons and Devils in the common parlance. Once the Paltonarchs realized this twist in the pact, they created the Harvest Angels, who’s sole job it was to retrieve the souls dedicated to the gods. Now, with the ability to create an army on the iron marches and the Accursed and Demon Queen trapped there, they Paltonarchs followed. Sadly, the souls and bodies of those who were claimed by no god were abandoned to the Demon Queen, who gained double on each death. In the Iron Marches, she would create a demon of equitable power to the slain, and on the earth, the corpse would rise after a day and a night to torment the living. Only with the death of the Accursed and the Demon Queen herself could the world return to its rightful state. However, what made the Iron Marches the great prison for the Demon Queen also imprisoned its new inhabitants. Much like the physical forms of those minor beings who live on the Prime cannot travel to the Iron Marches, it is extremely hard for those powerful beings on the Iron Marches to return to the prime. Now, Trapped in a war ages old in a land not of their choosing against an enemy of their own blood, the Paltonarchs are resolute and determined. One day, the Accursed and the Demon Queen will fall, and with them, the Iron Marches, and the world can return to being ruled by the gods directly.

So whats so special about the Accursed that makes them reviled and, when all things are equal, not worthy of worship? Why are their cultists cast out and unable to be part of the greater world?

The largest part of the revulsion is that the Accursed are known to have thrown the world out of balance. By choosing to take the Black Pact, they damned anyone who’s faith wasn’t strong enough to be consumed by the Demon Queen, and gave rise to the Undead. a slight second is the knowledge that each one of the Accursed chose to give the souls of their followers to the Demon Queen. While on Kasan they may gain earthly powers, once they die, their souls are consumed and given new form consummate to their attained power. Some of extraordinary power even retain a bit of themselves. Finally, its the knowledge that the corpse of the person who worships the Accursed will return to life, hungering for the flesh of the living.

The Accursed chose to commit the souls of their followers to the Demon Queen so that they could destroy a great enemy of their own flesh and blood. In each of them is a selfishness and arrogance that, while not unknown among the Paltonarchs, is much more all consuming. While they once fought for freedom and to break out of the chains of oppression, all that is left for the Accursed to fight for is self interest and the hunger for power. Keep that in mind as you read each of the Accursed profiles. While some of them might sound like normal goods, within each is the seeds of betrayal, selfishness and avarice!

Chremiss, Accursed of Rulership

Other Titles: Aloof Queen,  the Iron Crown, the One True Queen

Alignment: LN

Weapon: Warhammer (The Queller of Chaos)

Major Domains: Rulership, Rivalry

Minor Domains:  Obedience, Judges, Confidence

Totem Animal: Elk – The elk is a king of his land, confident in himself ,eager to prove his worthiness, yet obeys the natural laws when he is ruled unworthy.

Holy Symbol: A heavy iron crown with seven spikes across the front, set with a large, pale sapphire in the center.

Favored Appearances: Chremiss is extremely vain and revels in showing off beauty in every form that she takes. Both her male and female forms are almost overpoweringly sexual, and many a ruined king or presumptuous lord has come to their end due to her machinations. Her Female form is that of a striking Sylvan elf, with skin a deep auburn and blazing emerald eyes. Her long, perfectly straight and pitch black hair falls down her back. Tall for an elf, she is also well endowed, playing off it with her deep cut, form fitting dresses. She tends to frown on weaponry and armor in this form, preferring to stay dressed in regal finery.

Her male form is vastly different, but just as pleasing to the eye. Tall, with a straight back and broad shoulders, he holds himself with a regal bearing. Pale and tawny curls cover his head, and the same color holds for his beard and eyebrows, below which peer deep brown eyes that seem to understand you. He is always in peak physical condition, with well toned muscles belied by his loose fitting garments.

Warform:  Chremiss tends not to fight, but lead. However, when called upon to defend herself or battle necessitates it, she is fearless in battle as a massive elk of earth and stone, studded with gemstones. The eyes of the great beast are giant rubies, and the hooves are of pure diamond. The rack of horns upon her head is of topaz, both strong and sharp.

Personality: Chremiss is both vain and haughty, with an immense self worth and feeling of importance. What is worse is that she is often correct in her assessment of many situations and her keen intelligence and common sense has lead her to become one of the greatest battlefield commanders that that accursed have at their disposal. Though she knows she is more intelligent and understands her talents better than anyone, she is rarely one to explain herself and expects total obedience from her subjects. With the other Accursed, she is in constant political maneuverings and petty rivalries to bring her standing higher and higher. While they are currently ruled by a council, she has aspirations to be the sole ruler and monarch of the Accursed and defeat the Paltonarchs, and then the Demon Queen.

Teachings: Chremiss is the patron of both the rulers and the ruled, who appeases them both as the lawful and right way of the universe. There must be rulers, and that ruler must be a single entity, one that is able to assess the situations, make the best choices for all involved, and move forward with the proper choice, regardless of the sacrifices involved. If you are that chosen person, you must never look back in regards to those choices, be confident, and you will be obeyed. By the same token, you must remember those who have wronged or defied you, and strive at every turn to both earn their respect, or force it on them.  Finally, she teaches that in order to resolve impossible differences, there must be some sort of arbiter, and the judges are a profession that one should both revere and obey.

Abode: The Palace of Brilliant Might is one that stands at the very center of the Accursed Territory. A grand structure with hundreds of rooms for every conceivable concept, this is where the Accursed plan out their offenses and try and figure out a way to overthrow the Paltonarchs. Here, as well, is where the rules, laws and structure of the Accursed organization lies, within the halls of the One True Queens abode.

Cultists: Those who follow Chremiss are few and far between, publicly, but a number of power mad kings and princes have been known to worship her. Many countries have secret Organizations within their ruling classes that have followers and worshipers of Chremiss gather together to try and exert her brand of influence upon the country. These Cabals tend to be small, with no more than 10 or 12 members most times. They push rivalries with other nations, including warmongering if needed, absolute authority and strong, powerful governments if any can be arranged. 

Clerical Attire/colors: Chremiss’ followers wear dark blue, though the form, function and frequency is not always the same. They have a penchant for rings, often with sapphires and other brilliant blue stones, and circlets embedded with the same gems. Her followers are often high profile individuals, and they rarely wish to be known as worshiping one of the accursed, so they often disguise the colors of her worship. 

Followers: Kings, Rulers, Nobles and Generals. Sometimes Peasants who want comfort in their terrible existences, Mages, Athletes and Rogues.

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.