"Machine is all
Machine is Mother
Machine is Father
Machine is God'
Among the ranks of the white wastes and the endless seas of Plincy roam the hovercraft of the infamous religious mercenaries, Isbjörnarna. The side of each craft is emblazoned with the logo of a striking polar bear: claws extended and fangs bared.
Worshippers of Josslander take no small actions
"If you take out all the bullshit about the machines and the crappy prophecy, The Matrix was pretty close to the truth. Just think about it for awhile and you'll see how much sense it makes. And really, if you were trapped in a game and couldn't wake up, wouldn't you want to know the truth? So you could do something about it?"
" . . . Still haven't convinced you, huh? Here, tell you what: I'll give you my card. Whenever you feel like learning the real truth of this world, give me a call. I'll show you the ropes."
The true depths of darkness travel far deeper into the hearts of mortal man than the darkest and deepest cave I have ventured in. What once could have started as an innocent trek into the unknown for the sake of curiosity I have seen lead to the blackening of the soul and the withering of all those around it. All in the name of innocence and knowledge.
The following are my findings on the subject, as horrible as they are. I just hope I can finish this before my mind is lost to me. I feel the ebb and flow pulling inside me, no that is to simple an explanation. I feel my soul losing its hold on me. The more knowledge I gain, the more I know I am lost.
Kormak Cabeaza, Scribe and Scholar to Lord King Vyrkril the Just of Camerial
These are the Gods of Food and Eating! Beware their culinary prowess and tremble before the might of their cookery! These are… More Placeholder Gods!
“‘Hear! That which you warred for it gone. In its place is my own creation under my own authority. This Blessed Great Blue is my patronage and you will have no part in it! Lest you soil my sacred waves, I will cause them to crash onto your lands and drown your own creations. End your fighting: the seas are mine.’
Thus she spake from the Merciful Deep.”
- Yamasatran oral tradition
The mysterious Sisters of the Sea watch the events of the Sectarian Wars unfold from the safety of their monastery ships. But how long can they remain neutral before war is brought upon them?
Believed by some to be heretics, the adherents of Silence worship the Blessed Ruth, Our Lady of Silence.
Gods and Deities. The waking gods have tales and stories aplenty. Books and sermons dedicated to their prayers and beliefs fill many halls of many religious centers and the devout. Continued tales of their deeds abound fill those trying to fill the followers of their gods to the correct path of life. But what of the gods thought lost or who have died over the eons? Are they dead or just sleeping, staying out of sight from the eyes and prayers of man? Only the true dreams know the real answer.
One thing that has been stressed over and over on this site is that reality can emulate fantasy. There are so many different real world events that can be transformed into gaming material that one should literally never run out of new content.
This is a template I put together for a friend of mine while we played palladium Fantasy. Our campaign lasted well nearly seven years which had world shattering and altering events which led to the rise and fall of many religions as well as religions altering their view and edicts. This was what transpired from one of those changes.
Ishchali has been known by many names, but Caedmon is what he is most widely known for on Hewdamia. His name means many faced, or four face and he is represented by his four different personalities. Most of his past is shrouded in mystery, his many names and faces represent the multi faceted nature of this divine being. Each facet, each face has a different personality and each has its own place and purpose in his plans for the future of Hewdamia, and all those that call him Master.
Looking back on things, Keldor was the most unlikely of prophets. While charismatic, he was short, of middling birth, a half breed, and of a questionable profession. Yet his words have change the very fabric of society and created a lasting peace.
The balance must be kept in check. Today you suffer my anger and wrath but tomorrow we shall dine and laugh. Forgive me for my duty my child, it is the way of Order. Choas today, Order for tomorrow.
- Priestess of Xukthalas preaching to a fallen foe.
Father of depths, of shadow, and destruction. I pray to thee to give me the strength needed to sweep through our enemies so that we may continue to bring about the end of the reign the weakling gods. In this I pray to serve.
- Follower of Sethalis praying for spells.
By the sun that burns the weakness from our very souls, I call out to thee oh Seeker of Pain and Strife, of War and Strength, so that I may please you in the battle to come.
- Warrior Priest of Perteum prayer before battle.
Cold Comfort is a long-sword of star-steel, its blade giving off a wan, blueish light. Its grip is wrapped tightly in snow-serpent hide, and its pommel bears a single opalescent gemstone.
This blade is enchanted in such a way, that whoever wields it, begins to fall completely and irrevocably "in love" with the weapon. This love does not manifest itself as the expected reverence and bond formed between any warrior and his weapon, but as a deeper, truer love, one has for a soul-mate of the same species! The longer the wielder carries Cold Comfort the stronger and more disturbing this love becomes, and only the most powerful of magicks can potentially break the sword's insidious spell. The blade's owner will even speak to and coo to the weapon, convinced that the sword understands and returns this epic love.
If the blade's wielder somehow loses the weapon or has it taken away, they will become inconsolable, and will predictably go to "ends of the earth and back" to retrieve it at any cost. Such is the weapon's curse that even separation from it does not damper the feelings the owner has for the sword. Legends tell of several distraught and mind-addled knights who even years after losing the blade, still wander the country-side searching for their lost love. And woe be to the "new lover" if and when they find him or her.