The legendary blacksmith, founder of clan Ironspirit, and he whom brought the steel of the Gods themselves to mortal man.

While we're talking about the subject of constructing religions, I'd like to bring up the concept of the Creed. The creed is nothing more than a simple statement of the religion's beliefs, meant to be recited. If you cannot write a creed for your monotheistic religion, it probably needs work on internal consistency. Creed examples:

Those cast out of eternal life by the Great God Juffo find themselves lost forever in the Non. Here, away from both His Holy Warmth and the cold, harsh vengance of His Adversary, Zeln, there is truly nothing.

Forged and folded by the ancient and holy methods, Warprender and Weftcleaver have incorporated the very transformations that allow man to traverse the stars into their exotic blades.

A dark dagger of song, forged for vengance. It shall have that vengance.

A mid-sized sailing ship with an embedded Shard of the Storm.

A summary of the tools, weapons, and transports of the Kel’Regar.

This enormous blade is capable of leveling more than just men.

Forged of destruction, in the name of hatred, Winter's Tempest is a cold echo of its parent blades, yet still it bears the destruction of the frozen elements.

Undead abominations born of the Light, the glow of the Accursed's warped flesh strikes terror into those who behold it.

Taronia - Land of mystics and sages. Taronia - Land of the Gods. Taronia - Land of Conquerers.

The legacy of a master of the martial arts, the Fistwraps of Hwang are a testament to his sheer willpower.

Even as humans can be, the Kel'Regar, too, can be touched by madness, and it can drive them to push to ends incomprehensible by the sane. The work of one such, Kararemi'ar'Salm'Torat, the Menangerie of Mad Creation, is a twisted, living structure, tormented by years of loneliness and incomprehensible need.

Though each drone possesses little intelligence of its own, together, they are the Kth'k'k'kt, who span the stars.

The crystal dragons of Sogth VII are strange and sinuous beasts, be they stalking across the land on their four legs, and swimming through the ammonia seas.

Here am I, floating in a tin can, far above the moon, Planet Earth is blue, and there's nothing I can doo.

Man, too, is a primal creature, though he binds himself with the chains named Reason and Law, locked link by link from birth. Yet, those locks can be opened, the links broken, in both the savage world of the street-slum, and in the gilded cages of nobility.

One such creature is the countess-to-be, Alia duBois, who crouches within her golden jail, a puma waiting paitently to maul her captors...

The faded, yet oddly pristine robes of an ancient healer, this cloth radiates a palpable sense of comfort, of wholeness.

'A man needs two things to become a saint. He must perform three miracles, and then he must die. Perform your miracles, sir, and come to me when you are ready to become a saint.'
—Azariah Saintmaker, Dread Lord of Hatred

"Didja see the way way I nailed that, Marty?" "Thunderingly effective!"