[D&D-5e] The Fallen Pantheon (Experimental Campain)

[BarrowB]

Game Name The Fallen Pantheon

Game System DnD 5e

Theme Gods slowly losing their power

Flavour Reverse leveling; Sandbox; World semi-created by the players

Plot Summary The chosen players start out as gods (level 20), who spend most of their time in their own domains, sometimes overlooking the events happening in the world, that they created. One day, during your monthly meeting, something happens and you discover that your divine power is slowly dwindling away. A new, unexpected threat appears, forcing you to retreat into the land of mortals to seek aid, before you are left with nothing. I can't give you many details about the stetting... as it doesn't exist yet, because you, the players, create most of it. Info Your characters start out at level 20 and instead of gaining levels, you will slowly lose them, eventually ending at level 1 or maybe even 0. Having that in mind, if you want to go right away into character creation, do it level by level and write down what you got on each of them, to make the regression easier. Ability scores: standard array Starting equipment: 1000 Gold worth of items, 1 uncommon magic item, 1 rare magic item However, have in mid, that you are gods and you are going for a fancy meeting with each-other, so be sure to use the gold to get items that would be reasonable. Weapon and armour can be easily excused as wanting to show off but noone takes a tent to a banquet (unless you are the god of camping ) Allowed sources: all released WotC books (UA proooobably not allowed but you can ask, if you have something really interesting in mind) Posting rate: 3 times a week is the goal but I doubt it will happen Number of players: 4-6 Application form: Name: Race: Class: (Clerics obviously don't have gods and Warlocks don't have patrons, everyone takes their power from their worshippers. It has no effect on the mechanics of the game.) Background (of your worshippers): (As a god, you don't really have much of a past. As far as you know, you always existed and always were a god. The 'background' is still needed to set your proficiencies. Treat it more as 'what is the most often background of the people that worship you?'.) Personality: Appearance: (Description + picture) Domain: (What are you the god of?) Influence: (Some changes that you brought to the world.) Your symbols: (What signs and items are you most often associated with.) Uncommon magic item: Rare magic item: Kingdom: (It doesn't have anything to do with your character. I just want you to name and shortly describe one of the kingdoms that exist in this world.) A landmark or two: (Describe a place or two, that simply exist in this world. Maybe it's a sea of poisonous mist? Maybe it's a forest, where common sense doesn't apply? Maybe it's just a nice-looking mountain.) A sample of your post, describe a typical day of your god: (Optional but very welcome)

[Nomad240]

I am very interested in this - but I will need to fill this out when I'm not on the bus.

placeholder?

application Name: The Lady, Odette L'Fleur Race: Haregon ( as I have dope picture at home Haregon is in The Wild Beyond the Witchlightcampaign book) failing that human - I have a different pic for that one, if you don't like the bunny woman) Class: Cleric of the Grave ( power derived from the souls that flow through my domain) Background (of your worshippers): Acolyte- Insight and religion. The people learned Death is not to be feared. so her followers are sought out for their insight, to correct their paths. Worshippers of other faiths are also welcome to speak with her followers, as Death is forever fair. Personality: serene and caring, Like a loving mother waiting for her children to come in from playing in the backyard. Patient, her and her rabbit companions will allow the fallen to process and vent until they are ready to move on. Appearance: Domain: Death (Anubis/Grim Reaper role) Influence: A welcoming hand to guide the mortal souls to the next tier of their eternity. Mortals do not need to fear death anymore as the mother is waiting to guide them to the next level. Your symbols: Ruby, Scythe, , A Black Rabbit with Orange eyes Uncommon magic item: Hat of Disguise: She will often take the form of the fallen's loved ones to ease the transition. Very few have seen what she actually looks like ( that big ol floppy hat) Rare magic item: Robe of Eyes ( The dark buns hiding inside it watch and perceive everything) She keeps a watchful eye on her children. so when one falls she will dispatch a bunny to escort them onwards. If a person that has her interest should pass, she would retrieve them herself to escort them personally. Kingdom: The Empire of Lond'Sys. A small island(Size of japan) almost entirely dominated by wood elves. to the point where the entire island is dominated by the empire, each inch is meticulously curated and it's people is hyper rigid. This unfortunately has forced them to be set in their ways, They are slow to advance or change their technology due to the ocean that surrounds it on all sides. They have traveled and found a few other islands, claiming them for their own. But the pride and joy of the empire is their home island. A landmark or two: The Tree of Life. It is a sacred grove, where the royal family was birthed, each island the empire conquers the people will transplant one tree from the grove and plant it in the center of the island. The other thing the empire is famous for is the opulent architecture, from the stunning vistas, the multi floored bath houses, to even the apartments that appear to be trees molded by loving hands. The Highway of champions: A mile stretch of road, decorated with the nation's heroes. champions of renown, amazing generals, wizards and discoverers. For the Nation, anyone earning a place guarding the road is the highest honour. for additional magical fun. you could make the statues Golems, protecting the roads from Bandits.

Sample Post Her day started like every other day, with no rest, just an endless stroll around the world. Unlike other gods she preferred the view down on the mortal plane. It showed her the lives of people. The laughter, the love. The genuine care for others. It also showed her other things. The cold and hate. The wars and strife. The homeless sleeping in the snow and never waking up. That what where she was... it was year.... She didn't quite remember anymore. The soot black bunnies darted in and out of the long gown like dress, each step strong and confident as any noble. The orange eyes would open and close all over the shadowy dress, before one of the fluffy little companions would take off like a shot racing to meet a soul and light the path. Odette would falter only once, When a little black rabbit jumped in front of her.... It was time. She cast her gaze looking at her favorites. The halfling hero was lost some where at sea... but still safe... for the most part. The rascally dwarf was in another fist fight at a bar, She hoped he would live long enough to calm down and write out some of his brilliant ideas. The man had the soul of a poet and she could only dream of what the man would draft up when he considered the world past his fists. Her red eyes widened. " Is it... her time?" Her voice tinkled like that of a small bell. The pain already choking the back of her throat.... She had really been rooting for a kid. She closed her eyes. A clump of her companions broke off. " I need to take the fast route, please continue on this path. The skirmish should be almost over. Harold... please give the king my regards." She bowed to one bunny with a pair of particularly long ears. With that she was off. First she jumped soaring high into the sky. one hand held her hat still as more of her assistants jumped out and tumbled back to the earth on their tasks. The view up here was gorgeous and she could see her little friends pulling souls into the sky and into their new homes, each soul glimmering and sparkling in the sky. The grand view was stellar but it hid the finer details. She turned her head to face the north. tilting to one kingdom that had some how managed to thrive in the land of almost eternal winter. She leaned her body and let gravity take its course pulling her back down to the mortal realm. While some liked to announce their presence to the mortals around them. She landed with a soft 'tap' her feet touching down on the cobbled stones of the road. She looked up... There she was... the little girl.... She had such promise, she could have been the greatest empress the land had seen in over a hundred years! or potentially an artist that would sweep a king's breath away. But it was all gone here. It was cold and all the girl had was a threadbare clothing and a tray of matches she was trying to sell to afford a night's worth of warmth and food.... It hadn't been a good day for selling. The lady, watched her for a moment. Watching as the little human chase after a mustachioed man, holding up a match hoping against hope. She took a deep breath. This one would hurt her. The children always hurt.... but she felt that she needed to be there. She tugged on her wide brimmed hat, tugging it down as it shrowded her body, the rabbits on her hat held place, looking more like they were of woven fabric than real beings. Her dress settled into a shimmering black that sparkled as if it was made out of gems as opposed to the misty shadows that spilled forth her companions. A fine fur coat draped over her elbows lightly. With a snap of her fingers she was standing in the mortal plane. The cold biting into her fur. She resisted the urge to cross her arms. " My dear? What are you doing out in the cold like this? surely your parents are worried about you? there's a blizzard coming!" It felt like kicking the orphan while she was down. but she wasn't supposed to "know" the girl yet. She watched the human wince at the words. "Oh... no I'm.. I.. uh.. I'm ah I'm an orphan... no one's waiting for me... except an innkeeper that might give me some scraps if there's left overs." The girl confessed her small frame trembling. Odette reached out, conjuring a coin from thin air and dropping it into the tray before scooping up a match and lighting it. Holding it up for the girl to feel the blaze of warmth. together the pair would talk, about politics, the girl's favorite games, she let the brilliant child talk and talk. And as they talked they would burn match after match to warm up the girl, each one fleeting but it left an ember behind as Odette knew where the girl needed to be. After a bit the mortal body would slump and stop shivering. The spirit taking Odette's hand as she lead the girl to a warm log cabin home. The warmth brimming with love and cheers as the family the girl had dreamed about was waiting for her with hugs and kisses. Odette lingered for a moment. The smile on the girl's face told the Lady that she was finally happy. The child would have a chance a reincarnation. But the orphan spirit needed a break. She nodded to a little bunny that crawled into the corner. Blending into the shadows so only it's orange eyes glowed. It would guide her the second she was ready to leave. Slipping back to the mortal realm she paused looking at the body. The child looked like she was asleep a small smile spread over those lips. Odette paused to tuck in the girl in, brushing one blonde curl out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. And with that she was gone, out of sight. Some one would discover the body and hopefully find some one to celebrate the child's life. But she couldn't dwell on it any further. She had another appointment to get to. It was barely 9pm in the snowy land and already 3,654 people had to be claimed. Her work was never done.

I hope you enjoyed it. I borrowed heavily from my personal beliefs as well as the story of the matchstick girl as that story makes me cry every time. I had to cut myself off.

again if you don't want Haregon's in your world I can play as a human.

[Effete]

Status = Complete

Application Name: Fulminus, the Stormbringer. Fulminus, the Uncaring. His name varies by region: Kosk to the barbarians of the grassy wolds; M'latta to tropical islanders; and Fëold to the people of the highland coasts. Race: Genasi (Water) Class: Sorcerer (Storm Sorcery) 20 Background: Outlanders and Sailors. Cityfolk rarely evoke the name of Fulminus, except to curse it on dreary days. It is the farmers and travelers who are likely to leave offerings and petition Fulminus for favorable conditions, whether that means rain during a drought or clear skies for easy travel. Fulminus is especially revered by sailors, whose livelihoods depend greatly upon favorable winds and tempered waves. A storm at sea is like a death-knell. Appearance: A well-built humanoid male, with hair like torrents of wind and crackling lightning in his eyes. An assortment of spiral patterns adorn his pale blue skin, which glistens like a fine mist. When he flies, the lower half of his body dissipates into a billowing stormcloud, and when he swims, a roiling mass of bubbles and foam. The air fills with a charged scent of ozone in his presence, and arcs of lightning often dance across his body when he is angered. Personality: Fulminus is the pinnacle of indifference, exhibiting an impenetrable stoicism most of the time, though he is capable of great explosions of wrath and greats depths of empathy on rare occasions. Fulminus has a True Neutral alignment. Domain: God of Storms, Weather, and the Seas. In the more abstract, he embodies the nebulous force of change and transmutation (states of matter). Influence: Fulminus commands the winds to carry seed and spore, and calls the rains to quench and nourish so that the flora and fauna of the world may thrive. True to his indifferent nature, Fulminus also brings whirlwinds that uproot trees, downpours that wash out crops, floods that drown coastal towns, and lightning that bursts the land assunder and creates wildfires. He drives the winds that fills the sails of merchant fleets so that they may better their lives and the lives of others; and he raises the tides that capsize their ships, taking it all away. He is both the Giver and the Taker. Alchemists and mages that deal with transmutation sometimes pay lip service to Fulminus, but more often than not they attribute their successes to some type of "natural science," ignoring that Fulminus sits at the center of that science. Your symbols: A three-pronged lightning bolt. A spiral disc signifying the tempest or whirlpool (usually features two colors wrapping around each other). A ship sailing on clouds. A popular artistic rendering is that of a thunderhead on the horizon as seen from the shore. Uncommon magic item: Barrier tattoo Rare magic item: Shadowfell Brand tattoo Worldbuilding   Erydon A massive cliff-face bisects the city into upper and lower halves, before stretching out as far as the eye can see. Erydon is an important travel hub, being one of the few places where the cliff (titularly known as Erydon's Wall) can be easily overcome. A laissez faire attitude toward commerse has lent a cosmopolitan culture to the city, making it emormously wealthy, but also ushering in corruption and crime. Visitors to the city are warned to stay to the well-guarded thoroughfares as much as possible. Dominating the cityscape is the impressive Ibex Gate, also known as Ibex Market or Ibex Bazaar. The Ibex Gate serves as the primary means of travel up or down Erydon's Wall, connecting the more affluent Upper City with the industrious Lower City. Broad ramps, wide enough to accommodate wagons, have been cut into the face of the cliff, and the removed stone was used to construct the Gate's façade. Lining the gently sloping streets are all manner of stalls and shops, making the structure one of the largest enclosed bazaars on the continent. Travelers cannot avoid being bombarded by hawkers and merchants looking to make a sale, and with the number of exotic goods that regularly pass through the city, many travelers don't mind stopping to gawk at one fancy or another. Steps, stairways, and wooden bridges run off the main causeway at odd intervals, giving the entire complex a very chaotic, haphazard appearance.   The Penitent Captive This recently discovered landmark appears as two shackled arms raised up in a pleading gesture; a prisoner sueing for mercy. Both the arms and the shackles have been shown to resist any and all attempts to cut or mar them, even though they seem to be made of different materials. Naturally, many of the locals believe it to be the petrified corpse of some ancient, defeated god, but some scholars refute that claim, stating that it is merely a statue from a bygone era, constructed using materials and techniques man has long since forgotten. Whatever the truth, excavation has begun to uncover the rest of the anomoly. (Note: Even though the image shows the arms as rickity and cobbled together, the actual landmark is pristine, if perhaps a bit dirty. The image just serves to demonstrate both the size and scope of the object.) Sample Post (Optional)   The afternoon sun reflected off the ocean in scintillating patterns of white and diffuse yellows. Gulls howled in the distance as two figures sat on the edge of a quay watching a small fleet of fishing ships dip over the horizon. "Papa," the smaller figure said, not looking up, "does Fëold truly hear our prayers? I don't think he does," the boy quipped, defiance edging his words as he spoke more quickly. "That's why they call him the Uncaring, right? Because he doesn't answer our prayers, he just does whatever he wants." The older man turned his head slightly to look askance at the boy, then reached out with a rough, calloused hand, cradled the boy's shoulder and pulled him closer. "Is that what you think?" faux derision melded with humor in the man's voice. "Want me to tell you a story about Fëold?" "Is this another one of your parables? You're trying to teach me a lesson," the boy said matter of factly. Father chuckled, "Well, let's see if you can figure it out then." The storm rocked the vessel violently as men scrambled across deck, adjusting ballasts and trying deperately to secure booms as best they could in the torrential rain. The helmsman gripped the wheel with white-knuckled determination as he fought the lurching waves. A deckhand shouted at him, but his voice was lost in the tumult. Frantically, now, he waved at the helmsman, signaling for a hard cut to starboard. The man saw it only too late: a huge swell off the port side dwarfed the ship, then crashed in, tipping the vessel steeply onto it's side in a deafening roar of splintering wood. When the man came to his senses, he was astonished to find he was still on deck. The vessel lilted dangerously, and he wondered how he was not sliding into those black waters below. Twisting around, he realized he was half dangling, his left calve somehow wedged between the spokes of the helm and an uplifted deck plank. As the ship took on water, the tiller slowly shifted, spinning the wheel, threatening the snap the man's leg in two. With each passing second the tension on the man's leg mounted to a crushing pain. "Fëold !!" the man shouted into the storm, and a peal of thunder mocked him. "Fëold, you bastard! Spare me! Fë - oLLLLLL..." The man howled as a horrible crack accompanied a sudden relief of pressure on his leg. He felt himself slip into the blackness of both the sea and unconciousness. Orange sunlight burned through the man's eyelids. He felt sand under his fingers, smelled salt in the air. Things seemed so peaceful and relaxing. "You slept a long time." The intruding voice was a deep basso, almost accusatory. The prostrate man eased himself onto one elbow and squinted at the stranger. He was a large man in a sailor's loose breeches, barrel-chested and covered in tattoos. "What do you want?" "It was you who called to me." The man shifted abruptly, becaming acutely aware of a dull throb in his left leg. Looking down, he saw white bone protruding from just below his knee. Panic seized the man, and he fell onto his back, whimpering.The stranger knelt in the sand by the man's feet and casually inspected the wound, then covered it with one large hand. A moment later he withdrew his hand and the bone was gone. The flesh was knitted without a scar, and even the tear in the pant was mended. "Fëold!" It was barely a whisper. "Walk with me." The two strolled down the beach in silence for a great distance before the awestruck sailor built up the courage to speak. "Why did you help me?" The god gave him an unreadable look and responded in an equally unreadable tone. "Because it was your fate." Over the next several months, the young sailor would receive occasional visits by Fëold, and after each one the young man's life would make a drastic change for the better. After that first fateful day on the beach, the man joined a struggling shipping company that inextricably became extremely prosperous. While working for company, the man found himself in a country he would never otherwise have visited, where he met a women and was soon married. After the next divine visitation, the man was made captain of one of the ships, a dream of his since he was a child. When Fëold next arrived, the man was far out on the sea. A sturdy knock came at the captain's door, followed by footsteps entering the cabin. Without lifting his eyes from the cargo manifest he was reviewing, "Yes?" "You've done quite well for yourself." The basso voice rumbled like thunder. The young captain wrenched his eyes up, seeing the large, tattooed man in billowing trousers. After a moment, "Me? I thought this was all you're doing!" When the god said nothing, "Wasn't it?" "I merely provide the vessel, it is you who steers the ship." The young man laughed at the god's obvious jest. "Yes, yes. I have done well for myself, haven't I? Is that why you are here? To congratulate me on my success?" "Do you know the date?" The directness of the question was disarming, and the man flustered, looking down at his papers, then back at his patron deity. "Why, yes, it's the 23rd of Winterthaw." Realization slipped in, and he continued in a solemn tone, "It's the anniversary of our first meeting." "Not our first, but perhaps our most memorable. Just as today won't be our last, but you will never see me again as I am now." "So you're done with me?" "I am never done, but other obligations call me away." A soft drumming of rain could be heard hitting the deck above, and the storm god lifted his eyes. Remembering his last storm at sea, the young man ventured a question, "Will you see me safely through this?" A rare smile touch the corners of the deity's lips, "Have I ever failed you before?" With that he turned and vanished into the rain. The ship rolled and heaved, but the storm was not as bad as others the young sailor had experienced. Certainly far from the worst. He stood on deck, shouting orders to his men, when the bow crested a giant swell. It lifted slightly, but then dropped hard against the ocean's surface. The jolt knocked the captain off his feet and snapped the netting holding some of the cargo. Before he could react, a crate slid across deck, catching his left leg and shattering it. As men rushed to their captain's aid, he merely lifted his face to the rain and cried, "Why?!" A low rumble a thunder crawled through the air, "Because... this was your fate." "Well, what's the lesson?" the father asked, and watched the boy's brow furled in thought. "I don't know. I need to think about it," he said. "Okay, you can give me your answer after supper." The boy jumped up to gather their belongings off the quay, shouting over his shoulder, "I know it's not a true story, though, Papa. You gave it away!" "Oh? How's that?" "Don't be silly! You know the 23rd of Winterthaw is my birthday!" the boy said, handing father his cane.

[Chylopan]

This is a super cool concept.

Interesting to see what becomes of it!

[Jrod]

Auberon, Earth God of Harvest and Beasts Name: Auberon Race: Earth Genasi Class: Druid Domain: Nature Background: Hermit - Followers of Auberon include Farmers, Fisherman and hunters. Providing sustenance for their families and dedicating their lives to hard work and living from the land. Contributing as much back to the earth as they do pulling from it. Influence: Auberon had first brought medicine to the world. Sprouting the correct blends of herbs and organics near their villages for the inhabitants to combine and treat their ailments. He also brought the understanding and importance of waters ways and irrigation, further developing health and prosperity. He is known as a generous and fair god, who rewards his disciples through abundance and sustenance. Insignia Insignia: A brilliant cornucopia over flowing with vibrant fruits. Tools/weapons associated: Sickle, Scythe Uncommon magic item: winged boots reflavored as divine flight Rare Magic item: Moon sickle +2 Pure as earth Personality: Auberon is stern and formidable, but rewarding and generous. He is more humble, more soft spoken and more reserved than some of the gods, but when he wants your attention, he will get it in godly fashion. He is compassionate, caring and highly intelligent. An aura of peace and understanding surrounds him. Appearance: he has taken many forms over the Millenia, often depicted as a common farmer tilling his field or a fisherman reeling his catch. Some stories tell of him in centaur form running through the wilds, or as a great green dragon circling the forests. Some of the most recent stories tell of him walking among the elves. Only the gods know of his most pure form though. A green skinned humanoid with total physical definition and luscious vines for locks with boulderish feet. Beautiful In his own right, he represents the simple characteristics and imperfections of not only Earth, the humans among it, but also the gods themselves. Theres always more Kingdom: Within the woodland realm where creatures of Fey and faerie frolic carelessly under the protection of great wild beasts and elemental protectors, is home to one giant lumbering tree. Sprouting hundreds and hundreds of feet in width, and nearly a thousand feet to the clouds, stands a mega tree absolutely dwarfing the landscape around. This particular tree is known as ‘Citadel’ and on her own is a mecha of activity and society for creatures of the woods, but also acts as the portal and defensive wall to the kingdom of the Fey. Through the portal opens a whole new world. One where only Fey like creatures exist in harmony and without fear of outsiders. Governed by the king of the faeries, and who only answers to the creator himself, Auberon, lives king Titon. Ruler within Citadel. Landmark: Citadel herself Landmark: lake Berysis - the lake of the lost - it is said by the few who have stepped her beach that any mortal or immortal soul which looses their life while touching Berysis water has an definite and unfortunate fate. Being swallowed by Berysis takes one straight to the underworld with no opportunity for divine intervention or a life there after or ascension. If you die you go straight to hell, never to heaven. Ancient stories tell of Berysis - a once scorned Demi god not granted acceptance into the highest legion of divine acolytes. Her betrayal, ever lasting and agonizing. She cursed the gods and forever punished those who walk her rich beaches seeking enlightenment and fortune. A round a bout way of Cursing the gods and stealing would be genuine souls, altering their destiny and binding them to darkness. At the deepest part of the lake, in the narrowest crook and darkest corner, is rumoured to the be grandest treasury to ever exist. With arms and armor straight from the pantheon themselves, but never able to retrieve.

A day in the life of This day Auberon had spent his morning in human form, walking and working with two elderly farmers out gathering fire wood for their huts. He had known each of these men since their birth nearly seventy years ago. Their dauntless work ethic, friendship and humour had a way of impacting the gods nostalgic and compassionate side, grounding his divine nature. They never knew of him to be a god, rather just a friend from across the river. After the morning chores were complete, each man stands next to the wood shed, sits on a round and lights a pipe. Simultaneously and instinctively, as they had all done so many times before. The smoke was good. Calming and stimulating in the instance. A blend of tobacco gathered from the cinnamon marsh near by, and a favourite of the geezers. Auberon puffed with experience, if it was sixty years it would be six thousand. He remembered planting that specific grove of tobacco, knowing it’s essence and addictiveness would one day sooth the souls of honest hard working men. He was right. As the morning sun heightens to midday, He remembers a place he needed to be. He bids farewell to his comrades and walks off into the forest down a familiar path. Once out of site he blinks from existence, melting into the dirt below, only to reappears some thousand miles away in mere moments. The edge of the Sahara, desert and hot. An unkind and merciless Sun boils the land dry. A small plot of foliage here seems to be manicured, with strong roots and ample minerals. Yet the suns rays blister everything in sight. “Ah, it is but the cycle” he says, kneeling down to comfort the scorched leaves. “Solace is angry at your beauty today my dears. He means to burn you, wither you up and watch you die ugly” He scornfully looks to the sun with a scowl between brothers. “Jealous of your beauty, I think. We won’t have it will we” magic flows from his fingertips and the soil moves beneath his feet, mounding around the bases of all the organic life, swelling with nutrients. He waves his hand over head in an arch And the clouds darkens in suit. Rain drops start to tickle the land, Slow at first but within minutes a minor monsoon is unleashed. “Leave it alone brother. Your jealousy is suspicious and beneath you” speaking only to to the Radiant god himself.

[Onward]

Well, this is going to be interesting. This here will be my placeholder.

And I call dibs on being a God of Wizards and Spells (though this is an easily shareable portfolio at least in my head, since their can be a lot of variations for the Magic deity title)

App Name: Z Race: Human Class: Wizard (Evocation) Background: Sage - As long as you devote your time and energy into the study of the arcane, you are counted as a follower of the clergy, whether you believe in Z or not. Personality: Z is like a doddering old grandpa, his kind and has an air of wise authority. He may have unbelievable power, but his not so condescending, he sees most people as if they were his grandchildren. He even treats the younger Gods as that too, it's why his been called Grandpa God in most tales. Appearance: He usually assumed the form of a human male, of very old age. However, despite how he looks, he is rather intimidating in stature. He stands at a solid 6 foot tall, and looks to have a muscular physique hidden in his robes. He usually sports a white, long beard and wears grey robes, which the fabric aren't that fancy. He always carries a staff and his old spell book from his mortal days. Domain: God of Wizards, Spells and Arcane Researches (Arcana and Knowledge) Influence: It was considered by scholars that Z was the first mage to discover magic and the first one to create spells. But that's not what he influenced. When Z was a mortal, it is said that he received his staff from a living tree that was on the verge of death. He decided then and their, that he would pick a branch off that tree and place small pieces of it throughout the places he visited and it stretched to the end of his lifetime. Once he was lying on his deathbed, he gave one last insight and lesson to his disciples, the branch he picked up symbolizes life. And it reveals that life has many branches, life has many choices, Z grants them the freedom to choose what branch they picked. Your symbols: A simple wooden staff, it was the last branch of the living tree. When Z died, his staff laid bare to all who witness, it revealed that all branches where cut off as he planted the pieces to give the world it's freedom of choice. The staff was straight and narrow, cut off from any branches, it was straight up til the end, where it was revealed one thin splinter remained at the end. One small path, one small decision that Z made right before he spent his last breath. Uncommon magic item: Pearl of Power, an old friend gave him this item as a gift when he was mortal. It's completely useless to him now that he is a God, but he keeps it as a memento. Rare magic item:Ioun Stone (Reserve), sometimes in special occasions, Z picks up a stone and imbues a small measure of his power to a stone. He has done this many times and casted many stones throughout the world, all of varying power. He has kept one so far, mostly to see if he can store a spell of a more higher level of then the limits that the stone could attain. So far, the act has confounded him. Worldbuilding Kingdom: Starvale, a human dominated city and what was once, from a long century ago, the birthplace of Z. Though he did have a name, it was lost to time, even Z himself has forgotten what his name once was. Z was the only letter scholars could find out of his name. Anyway, Starvale is not a kingdom, but a city of Independence, theirs no government or taxes. Though the highest of authority would be the mage guild which also functions as a church of Z. A landmark or two: Serenity Zone, across the world, their are these overgrown areas of plant matter. Though not too overgrown enough to be a problem. Some sages believe that these brambles where the branches that the God of Wizardry planted when he was a mortal. Most monsters or hostile humanoids tend to never venture here, though if a simple traveler where to find entry, they'd feel a sense of calm and the injuries and weariness they had in their travels just disappear by morning. Sample Plot It was just an ordinary day for the God of Spells, the giant of an old man seats at his rocking chair, admiring the celestial bodies near his small hobble. He was just puffing off smoke from his pipe when he heard several clicking sounds,"Ahhh, a new thesis has finally arrived. Who could it be, and what knowledge have they obtained." he says like a doddering old grandpa, excited to finally hear news from their grandchildren. He enters into his home, which reveals several papers scattered across the room, and hundreds and hundreds of books and cabinets are just filled to the brim of papers from all mortals that have ever created an essay or published a new work in their research. Other than the almost infinite library, the room looks like any other wizards room, a stranger would think of the God of Wizard's home would have a more grander design than this. Z then walks toward a strange machine that summons up pieces of papers out of nowhere of which Z immediately reads off,"Ooh, looks like the child prodigy has made a paper about the schools of magic. Ahh, and someone has recently made a new school of magic, or shall I say resurfaced chronurgy! My, I'd never expect to hear that come back, I almost thought those where erase from existence through their own experiments, jolly good." he says and decides to starts off on the child's paper first,"My, oh my, as always this child does not disappoint, though his a bit rough on the edges. I hope he doesn't get an ego out of his accomplishments, but the schools of magic. Such a strange concept, but not unwarranted, it's quite necessary to categorize such types. Abjuration, the use of defense, conjuration, the use of teleportations though some might say that summoning should be categorized as a different school, they are wrong to do so as they are technically teleporting other creatures to our realm. Now where was I, ah yes, Divination, the ability to use sights and senses to see and feel things that you don't normally sense, Enchantment, controlling the mind and emotions of an individual, Evocation, the use of raw power, Illusions, the classic mage's book of spell tricks, Necromancy, the manipulation of life and death, using the light and dark magic. Though as far as I remember, no mortal has ever mastered light without divine help, though strangely enough, the dark has a strange calling to mortal men. I do not hate such spells, many of these are dangerous in their own right, but I cannot fault them, it is the ones using them that should be responsible for what they have unleashed.... Hmm, am I missing something, oh, of course, Transmutation, the ability to change, my, those attuned to nature are lucky to have such powerful magics on their finger tips. I'm quite jealous." Z says a very lengthy explanation in the basics of the school of magics, though he knows no one is here to listen to him, he does love pretending his discussing this to that child prodigy. He only hopes that child doesn't turn out like so many other predecessors before him,"Ah, now that I've explained that, I better look up more on Chronurgy. Just got to make sure this paper is accurate to the many other papers of this school." he says and takes a long, nice walk in his infinite library, gathering the scant few researches of the subject.

[Onward]

And I am done with my sheet, yeah! :-D :-D

[Ermine]

If I wasn't running a game and about to start another, I'd totally be down for this. Possibly as the goddess I already am using in my game (that only one of you knows anything about).

[OsmundCinderholt]

I have an evil god in the works, will edit this post when I finish conceptualizing it.


[EDIT]: I actually added a separate post for the app, my bad.

[delpinator]

Name: Allendale the hunter
Race: wood elf
Class: ranger/rogue

Background outlanders

Personality:
Appearance: never seen in his complete form Allendale is a wood elf. His hair ranges from natural leaf like colors of a dull blonde to vibrant green.

Domain: (What are you the god of?) The wild spaces, rangers, hunters.
Influence: the bow, teaching my people how to hunt and pull themselves above that of the other beasts of the land.
Your symbols: the bow

Uncommon magic item:
Rare magic item:


Kingdom:

A landmark or two: (Describe a place or two, that simply exist in this world. Maybe it's a sea of poisonous mist? Maybe it's a forest, where common sense doesn't apply? Maybe it's just a nice-looking mountain.)

A sample of your post, describe a typical day of your god: (Optional but very welcome)

[Nomad240]

oh yeah, I should mention I'm done setting up the lady. I wasn't too sure which style of god you were angling for, so I went with the geek style of able to take mortal form ( not now zeus) and can weave in and out sort of thing.

[Kepheren]

Posting interest for when I get home and can write a more detailed application. Am envisioning a God who is a patron of heroes and those who fight to save themselves and others. One who teaches his followers self sufficiency and guides them with omens and indirect aid.

[OsmundCinderholt]

Yldreni the Lady of Fear Name: Yldreni, Lady of Fear Race: Fallen Aasimar Class: Oathbreaker Paladin Background: Tyrants/Dictators/Evil Kings, and Knights of the Order, and those who worship her out of fear. In particular, the Sisterhood of the Amethyst Angel are her chief proselytizers, who act as the militant arm of the faith, helping spread the ideology.   The Lady of Fear wasn't always a God, in fact she started as an Angel of a now dead Goddess of Liberty. As a being of righteousness and martial might, Yldreni led the armies of her God against threats to their domains. Such a great war brewed with the Mindflayer God whose madness was spreading from the Far Realm to the Material Plane. The multi-planar war was immense, and the fighting terrible. The price was great, but in the end the Goddess of Liberty that Yldreni served succeeded in holding back the Mindflayer God, at the cost of her own life. Another cost was Yldreni being captured towards the end of the war, and being taken back to the Far Realm as prisoner. For what felt like millennia Yldreni was tortured and kept as a plaything by the Mindflayer God. Her will was strong, but His was even stronger. The Mindflayer God twisted his way into her very soul, and corrupted her. Where she was once righteous and proud, she was now cruel and cold. Where she once cared for the humans of Earth, she now was disgusted by them. What's more, Yldreni was elevated beyond her ken of Angelhood to Godhood herself, albeit a profane one. The Mindflayer God then sent Yldreni to the Material Plane, encased in the purple Resonance Crystals that once helped to brainwash her to evil. Falling from the sky like a purple comet, she was sent a single encroaching thought into her head. "Conquer." Personality: There is a quiet intensity to everything Yldreni does, and an otherworldly regality to her manner of speaking. Her every word holds the gravitas of an Empress, but her eyes are where one sees how truly unhinged she must be behind it all. Despite that, the Lady of Fear deeply respects order and uses her Godly powers to keep those who are beneath her up to standards. Which happens to be most of humanity. Those who cross her holy laws, and break her sense of order are to be killed... in the most grisly ways. Publicly. She does not terrorize without reason, she does it to teach a lesson. If you follow the holy law, and behave yourself... the Lady of Fear will disregard you for the worthless worm you are. Appearance: Yldreni was tall, standing nearly 7 feet, and bears the physique of a Planetar Angel. Her skin was pale and sickly, being now drained of it's once shining marble sheen. Her eyes in particular have an unearthly menace behind them, whose piercing silver stab into the hearts of even the most stalwart. Yldreni's once voluminous and flowing purple hair has too been drained of it's majesty, and instead lies flat and drained of all but hints of color. The Lady of Fear wears a set of glorious full plate which shines in the sun, looking more fit for a gallant knight than a villainous tyrant such as herself. Inlaid upon the breast, above her heart is a pair of amethyst which pulsate with a strange light inside. A flowing purple cloak trimmed with silver hangs behind her, giving her an almost royal elegance. Lastly, on her hip she wears a fearsome longsword whose blade is made of a blackened alloy, which almost seems to drain the light from the room. Inlaid on the guard of the sword is another amethyst, which you swear shows a reflection of your deepest nightmares upon it's surface, if only for a moment. Domain: Fear, Domination/Tyranny Influence: Yldreni's arrival marked a change in the status quo which allowed a cruel and zealous Kingdom that resides square in the middle of the Continent to expand its heartless export of Fear. Tyrants feel emboldened as they are supported by the Sisterhood of the Amethyst Angel and their armies. The rapid development of this super power threatens the balance of the nations. Your symbols: The Lady of Fear's symbol is a Purple Comet with a long trail. Uncommon magic item: Mind Carapace Plate Armor Rare magic item:Mind Blade Longsword Worldbuilding Kingdom: The Kingdom of Shimmering Hollow: Eons ago when Yldreni was thrown back into the Material plane after her decent into the Far Realm, and eventual "ascent" to Godhood, she arrived with a bang. A burning Purple Comet was seen above the world for a few months, growing ever bigger until the mass of Amethyst came crashing into the wide open plains. The explosion of this impact sent earth out like a wave and made the impact crater into a caldera nearly 100 miles in diameter. It also unearthed precious metals and made it minerally rich. Humans from the neighboring Kingdoms who were far enough away to not have been affected by the initial strike soon began converging on the crater epicenter to discover what was going on, and where this 'falling star' was. However, the deeper they went to the center of the crater the more frequently they began to encounter shards of the Amethyst resonance crystals, and their minds and emotions came under assault from the hostile psychic echoes of the Mindflayers. Fear and trepidation grew outward from the center, and so the first settlers stayed well away and started building their colonies on the outer rings. These outer ring settlements were independent and warred with one another, frivolously. The crater had unearthed more than enough precious material for centuries to come, and yet they still fought. It was lawless and bandit kingdoms arose. There were those who braved the center however, and they would be the first to truly see the Lady of Fear for themselves. A tribe of matriarchal women had braved deeper into the crater where others had not the will to proceed, lest they become jibbering messes as their emotions ran them over. Yet despite it all, this tribe set up camp right at the base of the epicenter, where Yldreni had lied dormant. Then one night there came a stirring and groaning of cleaving crystal. In a burst of emotional energy, The Lady of Fear emerged into the landscaped her arrival had wrought and gazed out to see 100 women and girls bowing in quavering deference. Yldreni demanded to speak with their Chiefess and asked her to explain how it was they dare walk so unaffected. They said they were terrified, but their fear was a righteous one, for they had foretold 'The Amethyst Angel' coming, and vowed to serve her, with their very lives. Naturally, Yldreni obliged and as her first act as a God she slayed half of the tribe within moments. The survivors and their chiefess simply prostrated, saying they still mean to follow Her... they've seen her power. They wanted everyone to feel what they felt, the visceral terror of being in her presence. This... pleased Yldreni. The Lady of Fear used her powers to raise the half of the tribe who she had killed as 'sanctified undead', re-adding their strength to their number. With her new zealots, Yldreni traveled outward to the independent bandit kingdoms. She sent first the tribe, who now called themselves the Sisterhood the Amethyst Angel, who would harken the oncoming terror they would face should they not supplicate and join in the holy laws. Naturally the first few bandit kingdoms scoffed at this declaration. They were annihilated, their dead added to the host, and the march spread out further to the neighbors. Soon as they made their circuit around the outer ring of the crater, the kingdoms would kowtow and submit, and before long all the initial settlements had be united into one, with the Lady of Fear as their central leader. By Holy Decree, Yldreni demanded that a proper Kingdom be established, for the people of this valley lived as uncivilized animals, and the Lady of Fear would not have such foolishness in her sacred crater. Thus she dubbed the first King of the newly named Shimmering Hollow. Yldreni had set the example she expected, and the first few Kings of Shimmering Hollow used their iron fists to squeeze out a society, and spread to the rest of the crater. White marble walled cities, with rich ore deposit mines and hill farms dotting the landscape. The society rather quickly became stratified, and the disparity between the noble classes and the working class who mined the precious metals and farmed the food became immense. The Kings were able to use shards of the crystal, strewn about the cities to instill the Holy Fear into them, and made public demonstrations upon the ones strong willed enough to resist. The efficient yet gruesome society that had blossomed in the Shimmering Hollow became a world power in a centuries time, and maintained this until the modern day. In this time the Sisterhood of the Amethyst Angel had become a Holy Knightly Order in it's own right, recruiting only the most zealous women who feared nothing more than Yldreni. Dark Paladins and Clerics marked their numbers, and they utilized the techniques showed to their tribe on their first meeting with the Lady of Fear... Necromancy. The Sisterhood bolstered their forces with 'sanctified undead', or holy undead who were the bodies of deceased believers reused for the purpose of expanding the Faith, giving their very lives and bodies to Yldreni. The Sisterhood would travel to neighboring Kingdoms and proselytize, along with their mixed army of the living and dead. Naturally this gave the Order a reputation... But that reputation served the Lady of Fear just fine. Spread rumors about the 'horrible necromancers' and 'brainwashed zealots'. BE AFRAID. A landmark or two: 1)The Shimmering Hollow is both the name of the Kingdom, but also the Crater. This crater is so deeply charged with fluctuating emotional energies, that one can always expect to feel on edge here. Despite this, the landscape of well manicured hill farms and expertly planned stone roadways between cities could lull you into believing this was a 'normal' country. Inside the gorgeous marbled walled cities you'd find clean and well organized streets, hourly public executions, and manicured flower gardens. A mix of purple tabard wearing humans and skeletons patrol the walls and gates, and tolls and taxes are paid under penalty of your hand being removed. It's truly a bewildering time to be in the Shimmering Hollow, and the everlooming Fear permeates every facet of life. Sample Plot WIP

[Pseudonymous]

Runewist, the Font of Inspiration --WIP-- Name: Runewist, God of Creative Inspiration. Commonly referred to as The Font of Inspiration, The Keeper of Tales, The Patron of Poets, The Baron of Boasts, The Fickle Flame, The Libelous Lord (that last one being a title used in disdain, particularly by followers of any gods who Runewist has insulted recently, which is a surprisingly long list. Runewist knows it's supposed to be an insult to him, but honestly he applauds the creative use of alliteration.). Race: Elf Class: Bard Background (of your worshippers): Runewist is the champion of writers, poets, artists, and musicians, and, strangely enough, also has a fondness for extravagant boasts (There is a particular mid-winter festival in his name wherein contestants attempt to out-do each other with outlandish tales of past exploits. The more unbelievable, the better. Doing so in poetic verse while verbally battling another contestant is VERY MUCH approved). When an artist is struck with a sudden idea, or a writer is gripped with the need to put quill to paper, this is a sign of Runewist delivering a gift. Some say that all stories and art come directly from him, and that mortals are naught but his conduits to release his creative works into the world. His name is often cursed during bouts of artist's block, and he is sometimes referred to as The Fickle Flame for this reason. Personality: Mercurial and prone to dramatics, Runewist is as much in the grip of creative inspiration as his followers. He adores wordplay and is not above needling his fellow gods into a verbal sparring match, which occasionally goes very poorly for him. (There are several myths detailing his much-deserved comeuppances, including one where the patron god of tailors sewed his mouth shut for two months. This imagery is a particularly common motif in needlepoint art). He is loud in both speech and manner of dress, and his appearance changes whenever it suits him, which is often. Boredom is anathema to him; if something does not interest him, he will either immediately ignore it or complain bitterly. Possibly both. Appearance: Some say that his hair is like spun gold and his eyes like the depths of the sea. Others say that's ridiculous-- his hair is obviously bright red like the burning fire of creative ambition and his eyes are like glowing silver stars. Both are technically correct: His appearance changes with his whims. He favors a tall and slender masculine build, and his hair is usually long and lustrous, but other than that his features and outfit are very much victims of his whim. Domain: Creative Inspiration Influence: Those ancient cave drawings of bison? That was the start, and entirely his doing-- You're welcome, by the way. He whispered to the ancient hunter-gatherers, urged them to pick up the stick of charcoal that leaves pretty dark lines on the red stone walls of the cave, the lump of clay that molds so easily beneath their hands, the shard of bone that sort of looks like a mammoth. He whispered tales into their ears, tales that spread by word of mouth around campfires and along long nomadic journeys, passed from parent to child to grandchild. Coaxed songs and music from disordered noise. And that was just the beginning! He's been on a roll since then--Art changes as culture changes, which means endless new media are developed, new styles spring up, new genres, new themes! He's been responsible for at least two Renaissance Ages across the world. Again, you're welcome. Your symbols: A quill wreathed in flame, or a fountain in the shape of a Rubin's Vase (the illusion in which viewers can see either two faces in profile or a vase, but not both at the same time). Uncommon magic item: Rare magic item: Kingdom: The United Republics of the Floating Archipeligo: An ellaborate name for a series of floating trade cities, mostly made from houseboats, floating docks, defunct trade vessels and lots and lots of rope bridges haphazardly holding everything together. These semi-mobile "cities" are scattered throughout the sea between two major kingdoms and serve as supply depots for traders, as well as hideouts for occasional pirates, and a source of blackmarket goods. Residents of the Archipeligo consider themselves to be their own distinct kingdom free from the laws of the surrounding "land-based" nations. Each city is governed by an elected "Harbor-master" and the Archipeligo itself is loosely allied under the rule of an elected Governor-Captain. A landmark or two: The Villa of Glass: (NOT located in the above-mentioned Archipeligo). A marvel of engineering, this multi-spired building complex has a facade entirely constructed of glittering blue-green glass. It is unnaturally strong despite its fragile appearance, due to powerful protective magics spun into each cane of glass. Delicate arcs, spires and lattices cover the surface. The villa itself houses the finest academy of enchanted glassworking in the entire world. They produce fine luxury goods such as stained glass lanterns that store a perpetual Light cantrip, as well as sculpture, blown glass vases and tableware, and various magical charms stored in art glass. Every new dean of the school adds to the front facade in some way, and the Hall of Masters inside features the works of every graduated student. To own a genuine Villa art piece is a sign of great wealth and luxury. As such, bootleg knockoffs abound. There's a steady flow of fake Villa wine glasses sold at every tourist trap and shady merchant booth in the country. A sample of your post, describe a typical day of your god: (Optional but very welcome)

[voodoozombie]

Unless I missed it somewhere, what is the application deadline? This sounds really interesting! Almost like a reverse Epic game!