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In order to understand the Patron Father of Bastards, you must look into his past, his heritage, and his parentage. His birth is not one of divine glory but of dark shame. When even the gods ignore his birthright, he takes their lack of respect and spits it back in their smug faces.

His mother is the Goddess of Love, Seduction, and War; beautiful beyond mortal comprehension, enough to bring a tear to the eye of the most narcissistic. Her beauty is not her only recognition as many a soldier and warrior pray to her in time of battle both before and after for her approval and praise. While not a god of anger and violence, she does enjoy the art of war craft and respects the honor and integrity of those who look on the art of making war as just that, an art form.

His father, well that is where the real and true story begins.

Vitearel was a tribal warrior of great renown, a humble mortal of exceptional quality and trust. He refused the praise of his fellow warriors tried to thrust upon him, and was faithful to his to wife and children. He worked hard among his nomadic people, hunting and bringing home twice as much game as any other and asking nothing for it in return.

Then his world changed and he along with it.

A raid from a rival tribal of warriors bled his people greatly; his chief among them had fallen to the path of their ancestors. It was placed on him, the mantle of leadership, a responsibility he didnt want or desire.

When he had been a simple warrior his life was easy; defend his people, supply food for prosperity, and love his family more than any other. In that order. Now everyone looked to him for everything, disputes between neighbors, troublesome children, and availability of food enough for his people to survive. He had few answers to many of these questions.

Their tribe began to decay. Attacks from enemies continued, wearing them down and reducing their man power and their resources to nearly nothing. He was forced to accept help from others, much to his own displeasure and that of his wife and peoples. He chose personal shame over the death of his people.

He worshiped and prayed to the gods nightly to send him a sign of a way to send his enemies far from his lands and people. They answered, but not in the manner in which he would have hoped. Soldiers from a land unknown to him arrived on armored horses wearing metal skin. They spoke of friendships, of trade, and of honor. What they gave in return was treachery.

They helped in the beginning, protecting them from their enemies attacks and supply food and assistance in shelter. But that was not to last. These men slowly took over Vitearels lands, supplanting his people from their homes. They still helped fight his enemies, but did so at their own choosing, fighting them enough to push them away from certain choice lands, forcing them to move closer to Vitearel and his peoples homes. When confronted, the soldiers leaders would just shrug, claiming ignorance.

He saw the treachery for what it was but others could not, perhaps would not, but it was too late. His people saw them as the divine answer to their woes. His people clutched the trinkets they brought that helped their daily lives, but brought them further from their ancestral ways without them realizing. Many of his advisors chose to listen to these saviors over Vitearel, his children chose these allies as companions over their own blood, and he soon found his own wife clutched in the arms of another man, an enemy of their people.

Vitearel was enraged, betrayed by his supposed allies gifted to him from the gods and no longer trusted by his own people, his wife and family among them. He sought redemption and went traveling on a Bretchen, or a spirit journey. He went in search of his spirit totem to find answers. What he found was his undoing.

He traveled for weeks until he found his spot of communion. He prayed and danced long hours into exhaustion, stopping only when his physical body could take no more. He asked his ancestors for the strength to supplant his new enemies and to rid his home of all outsiders. He vowed to take the battle to them if need be as a warrior should, not hiding behind diplomacy which had placed him in this predicament originally.

He was finally gifted an answer by his fifth day, exhaustion finally taking over him completely. He just lay on the grass carpeted ground, unable to move. He was approached by a woman of unmatched beauty. So beautiful in fact that he knew her to be merely a dream of yearning for his wife. His thoughts then for his wife, he felt her, lusted for her, and in his eyes and heart he knew this woman to be his wife. He was unable to stop the lust this woman aroused in him. He longed for the touch of the woman he once knew as his wife.

This woman was not his wife however, but the Goddess of Love, Seduction, and War. She felt pity on his fallen heart and of his burning tears. An honored warrior she had exaulted on him skill in battle on many occassions as she knew greatness in his soul. She went to him and comforted him, and lay with him to rest his wearied soul. What he gave her was a child she cared not to have but had little choice to bare. When Vitearel awoke he saw the woman before him was not his wife and he felt even more shame and pity in himself, ashamed at his lustful actions. Even though his wife had sullied their soul bonding with her vile acts, he still held faith in his own honor to not do the same. He felt cheated yet again, and this time the gods were the direct reason.

He watched her bare him a son right there. The growth was rapid and painful for the Goddess, the pure love from Vitearel and the lusted agony of the Goddess twisted in the womb of the Goddess. Across the lands wars were stopped instantly and rose up just as quickly with brother turning on brother. Lust kept in check was unleashed uncontrollably, and the strongest love was broken as a twig. The Goddess cried in ecstasy and anguish at the unleashing of her new child, a son.

He fell to the ground, already growing due to his divine blood. Legs popped and grew and a whelps cry for his mothers teat soon became the agonizing grunt of a teen youth. When he was finally able to stand, he was nearly six feet, an occasional pop and a quick loss of balance was the only sign of his continued growth, yet on a slower rate. He looked to his mother and asked if she were so, soft and innocent of the world. A simple nod was all he received, yet seemed enough. He looked to the man that lay on the ground before him; already his aura overwhelmed the mortal, his father, and it was steady growing.

Vitearel was in muted shock. Not only had he just held his wife in his loving arms, but she changed into the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Admittingly more beautiful than his wife, and she had just conceived, carried and bore a son of their infernal lust. He was mortified. The two minute old youth reached for his fathers hand to assist him up but he scurried on all fours away from him, and animal like whine in his voice. Sadness was seen in his eyes and it echoed in his sons.

You are not my son. This is a trick of the tainted gods of the Lower Soils, the Dark Gods of the shadowed night. I have been deceived by their tricks to lay with them as an animal and breed an abomination of this kind. I am damned, damned from my people and our ancestors to forever walk the lonely road outside the Gates of the Hunting Grounds. He took out his flint knife and gashed his chest and his nethers and ran into the deepening night. Returning to his people and killing his wife, later finding out that she had only laid with him to free their people so her husband could save his honor. Hearing this he walked to the gallows with head held low and ashamed.

The two were left alone, mother and son, each looking each other over with deep rooted affection, knowing that the other was blood yet recognizing beauty where it was. Sadness was in his eyes and lightly on his heart as his father had rejected him as a beast, a dark monster of lies and trickery. He took a step toward his mother, hoping for comfort as he was cold and near alone in a world. The Goddess did not step back, but answered his unspoken plea for comfort with a cold unyielding stare. The Goddess of Love and Seduction was not in this grove. The Goddess of War stood before him. Her voice was cold and sounded like a storm breaking on cliff rocks.

Do not come to me for your warmth and comfort. You are nothing more than the result of a mistake. You are unwelcome in the Halls of Lighted Void and your insistence at entering will be your permanent death. I will give you this Bastard! You will find you are not like the mortals that roam these lands, but you are not like those whom are your better, the Gods. You will forever be in between, more powerful than any mortal yet never welcome in the Halls of the Gods. Forever a bastard. saying this she disappeared in a thunderclap of smoke and rage, searing the grove beneath her feet.

The youth walked off and began his life as something more than those around him. He spoke with a passing spirit who gave him the name Tamrep, something about meaning in between. His trials of his youth turned into conquests and followers until they cried his name when he left them. He left a wake of unwanted mortals, unwanted from their kin and even unwanted from the gods themselves, always he took them in and gave them the knowledge that the world was only warm to those who deserved it and took their comfort.

An ideal was born, a concept and a meaning. For centuries Tamrep traveled from place to place, walking across the frozen tundra to speak with the northern tribes to walk the death sands to the south where few dared travel without ample provisions. He walked it unconcerned. He spoke his ideal, his words, and his meanings and then one day he walked to a place no one had walked before. He walked to the gates of the Halls of Lighted Void and forced them open.

Screaming the entire time as he was assaulted by their powers, as well as the powers of the gods who were in attendance. He cried, but in anger and rage, not pain. He ripped the gates open and walked into a place only gods had tread and cried out in defiance. With each step he screamed defiance in their face.

My name is Tamrep, son of Vitearel the Honored Warrior of the Plainsmen of the Sun tribe. His first step into the Halls of Lighted Void.
My name is Tamrep, son of the Goddess of Love, Seduction, and War. Pushing his way through the angered gods before him.
I am Tamrep, Traveler of the World that mortals call home and the Gods call playground. Shruging off a divine blast of energy from the nearby God of Storms.
I am Tamrep, Believer in the downcast, mistreated, and unwanted. Standing before his mother.
I am Tamrep, The Bastard God. Slapping her across her face.

"You are forever nothing to me. Anyone who questions my abilities, look into my mothers eyes and understand here and now that the Goddess of War fears her bastard son!

The stunned silence at this outrage of an action was done by something other than a god. He turned and walked out of the Halls of Lighted Void the way he had come, pushing closed the broken gates as if nothing had transpired. Calling back over his shoulder with a sly grin, "Do not fret, for I shall return".

And with that he was gone.

Tamrep stands roughly seven feet tall and has shoulder length sandy colored hair. It waves in the wind as if it had a mind of its own. His hands are calloused yet sure and his eyes are the deepest blue as a clear sky on a cloudless day. When he angers though they turn deep blue, nearly black, as the turbulent ocean of the angered sea God.

He has little affection for anything, yet he welcomes those who are cast out, whether true bastards or not. Anyone who is not welcome by anyone, mortal and god alike are offered his open arms as long as they do the same for another unwelcome.

And while his heart bleeds to be wanted, he comforts those who have no one as he feels their pain and takes it from them, feeding it to his own. This inner rage he uses to fight off the machinations of his mother and her people as he calls them. He travels to her home on rare occassions but does so with caution. He has withstood their assault time and again, but without this inner fury he would have bended knee to them ages ago.

His clothing is simple and dark, looking more weather worn than in bad repair. He is not welcome in the Halls of Lighted Void, but that doesnt stop him from traveling there. His pure rage and anger is what has kept him able to withstand the onslaught of the gods anger at him being there. They look down on him for being a half breed but grudgingly respect his powers.

Religious Specifics
Little is really known about how one becomes a priest of Tamrep. Frankly less is known on how one becomes a follower. It seems that all of Tamreps followers have actually met him during their journey to become a part of this unique religious culture. Most of which were not actively searching for him at the time.

He comes and goes at his own will and seems to change those whom he visits forever. Once a believer and follower of Tamrep, always a believer and follower. His silent words to his followers are unique to the individual yet somehow always sway those to his side.

He willingly takes in the downtrodden and outcaste and turns them into a member of a select family of people that all have something in common. Once he accepts them, they are no longer downtrodden or outcaste from society as they have brothers and sisters to turn to for comfort. Most of these enter back in to society and begin to lead successful lives, which they praise Tamrep for. None turn from him even after their lives turn around. However, once back into the world of Non-believers, they begin to act as he acts toward his half kin.

They see authority and welcome and respect it, yet they do not respect authority that does not respect them. This can sometimes get them into trouble as a bad mouthed guard official saying the wrong thing can spark all sorts of problems. Including violence. They do not actively seek this violence, nor do they really want it. They simply expect respect now that they know what it is. Even nobility should respect those below them. Sure, Tamreps followers all are intelligent enough to understand that nobility will act differently because of their station. But that does not excuse tem from accepting respect and giving it in return.

Because of Tamreps teachings they know about the proper stations in life. He doesnt push his followers to usurp those above them, only to get respect from them that they deserve. Even though he is the god of bastards he looks down on his followers who turn their back on their own bastards. He accepts them into his fold of course, but he refused to allow his people to do the same to their bastard children that his parents did to him. This is a conundrum to some, yet those who have been with him the longest understand this teaching.

There are no real religious holidays. Tamreps birthday is seen as a religious holiday and is therefore celebrated with jubilation and dancing, drinking and frolicking. Priesthood abilities are slight and small, yet they do get similar abilities as other deities give their priests. They are not extensive and exuberant yet usually when a priest asks for an ability it is given, even if for a limited time. Few ask in excess however as they learn the worth of self reliance.

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