Hoar
Assuran, the Doombringer, Lord of the Three Thunders, Poet of Justice. LN demipower of revenge, retribution, poetic justice (He/Him)
Pantheon: Faerûnian, Untheric
Symbol: Black gloved hand holding a coin decorated with a head with two faces, one angry and one calm
Known Proxies: None known
Interview with Varaetha Nightstorm (planar tiefling rogue [she/her] / Mercykillers / LN)
You want to know about Hoar, eh? You might have heard him called Assuran, or The Doombringer. Yes cutter, the god of revenge and poetic justice. Well, let me tell you about the only power that matters, the god who understands the true price of betrayal and the only proper way to deal with it. I’m training to become one of Hoar’s most lethal weapons—a Silent Scale—yes cutter, the order of assassins, and I’ve spent years nurturing my grudges. Because you know what? Grudges fuel justice.
Hoar doesn’t just sit in Mechanus waiting for the scales of justice to balance themselves like some of those dusty powers. Oh no. He—or they, if you like—are the balance and the scales, the sword and the executioner. It’s simple: You cause harm, you pay the price. Hoar’s justice doesn’t fall softly. There’s no clemency, and definitely no forgiveness. And anyone who crosses us will soon learn there’s no escape either. Sometimes the punishment matches the crime so perfectly it’s almost poetic. They call it poetric justice for a reason, after all. That’s how I intend to work. When I find someone who’s wronged me—or anyone under Hoar’s watch—I won’t just end them. I’ll make it mean something.
Now you’ve got to understand, Hoar ain’t just about vengeance for vengeance’s sake. The world is full of those who harm and think they’re above consequences—kings, priests, lovers. They leave wreckage in their wake, and they smile to themselves, thinking fate will never catch up with them. Well, we are fate’s subtle hand. Hoar’s teachings? Oh, they go beyond the usual drivel about the gods—he doesn’t care for mercy, not like some other Powers who preach patience, or who say, “Leave justice to the heavens.” No, Hoar demands we claim that justice ourselves.
What’s dangerous about crossing Hoar’s priesthood? First of all, we don’t forget. Ever. If you wrong one of us, it may take years, but the hammer will fall one day. Some berks might scoff and say that Hoar’s followers are all about grudges, but you know what? They’re right. We brood, we plot, and when we act, we strike like a thunderstorm. It don’t matter where you go or who you think you can hide behind. I’ve seen what happens when the Doombringer’s justice is carried out—blood gets spilled in perfect proportion to the original sin. When a murderer escapes prosecution but is then killed in a horrible accident—that was Hoar’s hand. They say when you hear three rolls of thunder in quick succession that’s a sign that Hoar has exacted vengeance.
You see cutter, in Hoar’s faith, violence meets violence, but it’s never simple. Hoar likes justice to be ironic. If you steal from a beggar, your fortune will rot from your hands. If you ruin a life, yours will be shredded by the same instruments you used. Cross Hoar, and the punishment won’t be a simple execution—it’ll be your own just desserts coming back to you, personalised.
Hoar ain’t a god of mindless killing, though. No, there’s no pleasure in senseless bloodshed. We’re about exacting the debt you owe for your crimes. And trust me, debt always finds its collector. His followers, like me, are patient bloods. Oh, the satisfaction of knowing my mark’s time will come—it’s what gets me through the long nights waiting.
I am your judge, jury and executioner. Know my name, and fear it.
—Fragment from an Assuran Manuscript
You might have heard about the Time of Troubles. That was when Hoar killed his rival, Ramman, that pompous god of war. Ramman, who hunted Hoar across planes, thought he could escape what was coming to him. But fate doesn’t forget. Hoar tracked him down, possessed a mortal king—Hippartes, if you care for names—and cut Ramman down. Clean. But Hoar didn’t get what he deserved. Instead of claiming the portfolio of war, it went to Anhur, some other useless war deity. And Hoar? Still a demigod.
That, my friend, is where the irony of fate turns even against gods. But don’t think Hoar has forgotten. We’ve all of us been preparing and biding our time. There will be a Reckoning again, mark my words, and next time, Hoar will take everything.
You’ve got to respect that. Hoar himself knows what it’s like to be denied his prize. That’s why those of us who serve him burn so hot. We all know how bitter it is to have what’s owed snatched away. Hoar teaches us to hold onto that pain, to nurture that rage. It’s fuel, you see. No grudge shall go unavenged in his name.
I wasn’t always training to be a holy assassin you know. But the moment I swore myself to the Doombringer, my path was clear. There’s a certain… pleasure… in knowing that every past slight against me will one day be answered. I’ve got a list of names burned into my soul. Some of them are dead already, and some of them are dead but they just don’t know it yet. They’ll feel it soon enough.
I’ve studied with the Mercykillers, the best of them, and they taught me how the law works—how justice can be twisted. That’s all very well. But Hoar’s justice? That’s the true law. It’s beyond rules written down in dusty tomes. It’s personal, it’s visceral. When someone wrongs me, I won’t let a council decide their fate. I’ll deliver it myself. Clean. Final.
In Hoar’s name, we always collect.
Canonical References: Dragon Magazine #357 p87; #358 p70-71 (brief mentions only)
Source: Jon Winter-Holt