Burned out Gods...

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Almdrid Sunkiller (by Rip van Wormer)

AoC: Night, Cold, Love
Alignment: NE
WAL: any evil
Symbol: A solar disk with a jagged hole in the centre.
Home Plane/Realm: Quasielemental plane of Ash/Starfall

The twin brother of a minor sun god, Almdrid was overloved by his mother and spoilt by it. Almdrid loves everybody: he hungers for the love of the sun. He leeches love and incidentally heat as well.

Almdrid's realm is a cold neutron star, completely inhospitable to nearly all life forms. Almdrid's proxies are nightshades, enormous negative energy creatures he has modified to have eyes like dying embers. They cry out their longing for love as they kill their victims.

Ashes of Penance (by Rip van Wormer)

Centuries ago, a civilisation created a war so massive that it summoned the direct intervention of the powers themselves. Pantheons warred. A world died. The remaining gods paused in their fighting, saw what they had done, and felt sorrow. Wading through the wreck of their world and the burnt bits of their worshippers the gods bowed their heads in prayer to the Great Unknown before shaking hands and vowing to fight no more. Before departing for Elysium to begin their new existences, they set up a memorial in the Quasielemental Plane of Ash.

The ash dunes part. Daylight emerges, revealing a great city filled with art and knowledge. This is the best of what was, and it's preserved here in the midst of a plane called the Snuffing as a gesture of humility and as a reminder of what was wrought.

The aura of peace and disappointment here is palpable, and any fighting suffers a penalty of -12 to hit, with a 60% chance of a combat spell failing. If anything is destroyed, the gods will replace it in a century or two. Rasts, quasielementals and other such creatures tend to avoid the place.

Once every hundred cycles great numbers of the sartarin tribe of ruvoka come to Penance dressed in sackcloth to confess their sins and make resolutions. In respect, they model their civilisation closely on the lost one, and borrow the books here to teach their children. Any harm done to the city or its relics will be quickly avenged by the Sartarin, but they will aid those who come honestly seeking wisdom.

Dark Chant: It is said that not every veteran of the divine war has reformed, and that a fierce god of war seeks the ashes of Penance and its destruction. It seems that the peoples of these unrepentant gods are not represented in the city's archives, and angry at this snub, Baatific minions sweep the plane of Ash on dark wings, trying to penetrate the wards of obscurity hiding the shrine. The ruvoka carefully screen those they trust with the knowledge of the realm's location, but what if they fail?

The Faithful of the Flame (by Monte Lin)Efka Farstrider

by Luan Fei Lan of the Faithful of the Flame (Fire Eaters)

I came to speak of our true headquarters, not in Gehenna, but of Ash, where the icon of our sect drifts, a testimony of the pain of life. Countless generations of mortals ago, a power came to blows with a rival, and lost. Or perhaps it dared to disobey a superior. Its physical body was thrown into the fires of Gehenna, where we have built our Temple of the Fallen. There, for countless eons, the power burned, until its body turned to ash. The victorious power flung the incinerated corpse into the plane of Ash, where we periodically pilgrimage to revel the memory of never ending immortal burning.

Touching the ashen mass causes pain to the skin. We wear little and light clothing as we dig and explore the corpse. We learn to sleep as we lie on the ash; the pain eventually subsides to a dull ache. At that time, we journey deeper into the body, for the memory of burning becomes stronger inside. Our greater followers have felt the same fire in the centre of the Ashen body as at Gehenna.

The ash still reverberates with godly power, and we all burn within it, for the sufferings of a million mortals pale to that of a god. We invite anyone to come and meditate, but no sacrilegious behaviour will be tolerated. Sometimes we derive as much enlightenment from the suffering others as much as our own.

We still seek out the Astral corpse of our power, to unite the physical memory with the spiritual memory. Perhaps then we will know true suffering.

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Copyright 1999, text by various authors,
graphics by Jon Winter and Jeremiah Golden

Consult the Mimir Again