Dethroning The Old Death (A Riot Quest)(ALWAYS RECRUITING)

RULES CHANGE: If two characters with different levels of a stat take part in the same action, the one with the lower level has doubled XP gain, representing the more experienced character mentoring them on the job. This stacks with the doubled XP gain for failures.

Also, I will not be fleshing out your Goddess any further; that's your job.

---

Location: Greenvale

A town of about 1,250 people, Greenvale is a community in the middle of a dent-sized agricultural county containing several small farming villages and the manor of the local noble family. You'd estimate that the entire county has a population of around 25,000 people scattered throughout, most of whom live in small farming villages of about 100-200 people. The town's role in the local economy seems to be one of specialized crafts and a local cultural hub, both providing luxuries to the nobility and the occasional peasant, and replacing any specialized tools that the smaller village's smiths are unable to replace themselves.

Given the town's role and location, it is entirely unsurprising that Vervant and Ashblower are actively worshiped here, with each having a moderately large temple in the town square; in the outlying villages, both gods often share temples and priests due to low population. This does result in rather drab temples, though.

The town's recent history has been... difficult. Apparently Zerrakh unleashed a plague here about a year ago, while also manifesting a skeletal avatar to torment the populace; this killed about ten percent of the population. Currently, there are a string of disappearances in town happening every week or two. No-one's quite sure who's responsible, but most are blaming Zerrakh.

---

Deity: Morth, Endless Matron of Candles, Religion Name: The Eternal Candle-Bearers

-A Goddess who is able to take forms as she desires and can occupy multiple locations at once.

-Morth cares greatly about the mental well-being of those she escorts to the afterlife, appearing in the form of her charges to comfort them.

-Makes absolutely certain that people get a nice afterlife.

-They like architecture that is both practical and looks nice, particularly for cemetaries and other tombs.

-Is completely and impartially fair to everyone. Morth does not care if you are young, old, rich or poor. She will embrace you all the same.

---

Action 1: Fundraising
Roll: 97 + 15 (numbers) + 45 (stats) + 30 (skills) = 187
Epic Success

Between the three of them, Uzorkh, Allister, and Robert manage to successfully raise funds to a degree that defies even the best of expectations. Apparently, being responsible for the near-miraculous recovery of a noble's daughter from what would have normally been a lethal illness is worth quite a lot of goodwill. Distributing healthcare to others and charging only what they can afford without hardship is also quite worthwhile.

Meanwhile, Robert helps several of the local craftsmen get their finances in order, which is amazingly helpful for them. Apparently the local tax collector died from an inexplicable house collapse last year, and the replacement had proven rather inept at explaining how much was supposed to be paid, and for what reasons. This not only lets Robert bring in quite a large amount of money, but also earns him the gratitude of quite a few skilled tradesmen.

All in all, your nascent religion has managed to acquire not only a sizable amount of money for a month of work, but has also acquired quite a bit of goodwill from relatively influential parts of the community.

Results:
-You now have a significant amount of money, easily enough to finance the construction of a basic temple and a set of holy paraphernalia.
-You have significant goodwill from the local noble and several skilled craftsmen. Probably many of the peasants too, considering that this may be the first time they ever had access to effective healthcare.

XP
@Aeternus (Lv. 6 Administration | 1/12)
@Lizard Knight (Lv. 4 Administration | 2/8)
@Nedben (Lv. 2 Administration | 2/4)

---

Action 2: Research Wizardry
Roll: 35 + 10 (numbers) + 10 (stats) + 20 (skills) = 85
Painful Success

Well, Soppo and Palsat certainly seem to have had quite a bit of fun tinkering with wizardry, though they were rather unfocused in their efforts. As a result, for the entire month, they only managed to create a single notable invention. Namely, they created a device that collects and stores ambient belief energy for later use. Unfortunately, it won't be useful to you for quite some time, since it can't discriminate what belief energy it's absorbing. It would therefore quite severely retard the formation of your new god, which would rather defeat the purpose of hauling yourselves out to Greenvale in the first place.

Results:
-Blueprint Gained: Belief Collector (currently counterproductive)

XP
@FatedBread (LEVEL UP!)(Lv. 2 Mysticism | 2/4)
@paradoxdragon (Lv. 3 Mysticism | 2/6)

NOTE: If you'd specified what sort of wizardy thing you were trying to research you might have gotten something more useful. You didn't, so I was left scratching my head over what to give you. That's the only reason you got a Painful Success instead of an outright Success.

---

Action 3: Recruit Followers
Roll: 46 + 15 (numbers) + 50 (stats) + 10 (skills) = 121
Success

While Alamgir's appearance was slightly alarming for many of the townfolk, the presence of Danaal and Elisa greatly smoothed things over long enough for Al's impassioned preaching ability to make itself known. After that, it's fairly simple to explain that you are affiliated with the now much-beloved Doctor Lovewood, and that you are prophets of a new god named the Endless Matron of Candles.

The fact that the Matron is a goddess of Death does put a few people off the general idea, but emphasizing that her role is as a caretaker, rather than a killer does much to counteract that. By the end of the month, you've managed to get at least 200 people in Greenvale to go along with your plan... which is much less than the bare minimum 3,000 believers required to sustain a divine being with significant levels of power, but everyone needs to start somewhere.

Results:
+200 followers!
+Going by the standard model of deity formation, the Endless Matron of Candles now exists in a nascent state, but has not yet experienced her first moment of consciousness.

XP:
@always_confused (Preaching Lv. 4 | 2/8 XP)
@djehuty3 (Preaching Lv. 5 | 1/10)
@theflyingbiscuit (Preaching Lv. 4 | 2/8 XP)

---

Actions

Preaching
[] Recruit followers
-[] Select Location (Greenvale/Small Villages)
-[] Select Rhetoric (WARNING: WILL HAVE IMPACT ON NATURE OF DEITY!)

[] Spread Scripture
-[] Select Scripture

[] Liaise With Authorities

[] Write-In

Mysticism
[] Research Wizardry

[] Perform a Ritual [ERROR: NO RITUALS]

[] Craft a Magic Item
-[] Select Blueprint

[] Write-In

Subversion
[] General Information Gathering
-[] General Objective?
-[] Method?

[] Spy on someone specific
-[] Who?
-[] How?

[] Assassinate Someone
-[] Who?
-[] How?

[] Sabotage
-[] Who?
-[] How?

[] Write-In

Administration
[] Raise Funding
-[] How?

[] Get a temple built
-[] Where?
-[] How?

[] Acquire Equipment
-[] Mundane
--[] Specify
-[] Religious
--[] Specify
-[] Magical
--[] Specify

[] Write-In

My first instinct is to use it against Zerrakh somehow, but for now let's keep it inactive if possible and away from the people in a known location if not: save it as a prototype magical battery.

Hm...We've got a magical device that would be counterproductive, but what about one that serves as a belief gathering tool?

[X] Research Wizardry (magic item recipe, mass-producible/minor)
-[X] Painkiller Candles
Uzorkh has an idea about aromatherapy and the candles market. What if we infused calming and pain relieving herbs or something into scented candles, then stamp them with a religious symbol (a tunnel with a lamp-bearer inside, perhaps), and make them into a sign of peace with a secondary element of peaceful passage for those who can't be helped with anything less than release? We could get brand recognition in hospice and at funerals if the project works out, but let's definitely safety test before serious production or any selling.

Someone should probably investigate those disappearances, though.
----

Retreating to the privacy of the immigrants' encampment after a long few days of consulting with herbalists, texts, candlemakers, farmers, and various others, Uzorkh has at least a promising model of the mundane product, and now wants to test the component of faith. He enters a dedicated tent for magical research and clears some space, and is seated on the floor. Clearing his mind and tabling thoughts for later, a moment of autohypnotic purity arises: he dons the mask of Death, because he is speaking to the new matron of death, hand puppets to hand puppets. The intersection of mysticism and solidity, aestheticsmancer's grace kicks in. The mindset and power of Death...but not Zerrakh's fouled slaying, instead the serenity of Morth. Guidance, that is the will.

First, a deck reading to divine the auspiciousness...Three of Wands. Speculation, enterprise, investment in the unknown. Research and distribution. An optimistic expansion into new diversity, initiative.

Perfect.

Sliding the card back and shuffling for later, Uzorkh sets a test candle on the table. Then, he closes his eyes and lets his mind sharpen, order, and loosen. Immense focus to reach the ardent will of faith, only to release into the vision of dreams: a mind palace technique practiced by wizards and believers who wish to see their own faith. But this is not a personal thought, no. It is trying to listen for the womb in which lies an unborn goddess. A memory of amber metabolism and violet secrets of inspiration dances past him...candles. Candles floating in the void: golden flames above wax.

A flit of gold not from the fires (more like a butterfly) attempts to annoy him, but whispers only guidance in quiet riddles and friendly jokes instead. Small drums beat intermittently: a woodwind whistle or few like and with the hum of water in glass: the space of a crystallized vision not his own flows through willed illusion.

The tunnel, but no-one is passing out, so the doors have been politely closed (left unlocked, of course, for later walking). Sparse spirits flow by, clouds of color and drawn outlines. Birds and gravekeepers (some like paper creations waiting to unfold, the others waiting to become real): the space resolves into a sandstone temple by candlelight at the wave of a hand. Windows to grey graveyards and chambers in skies surround this place, the tunnels to living and dead weaving back and forth, off into distant waveforms, too afraid to see in one line. Trees fruiting with lines of colorful liquid light-mana, the odd soul of the dead that was believed to have run from Zerrakh's grasp finding hope in this distant place. But this vision is by the living to see the unborn, by Death to visit both mother and daughter, not by the dying to become the dead. In the space of illusions, a man dressed like a reaper is already one.

The gold comments "This is the exact opposite of your job, you know."

"Good thing this is parental leave, then." Uzorkh shoots back with a smile that's more the contortion of the overlayer of a skull than his own face.

To the center and then the side he turns, the gold spinning about him in slow circles, trailing fairydust of all-too-dangerous trust, but also the sign of self-sacrifice and donation. The side-center dais is at once coffin and womb, deathbed and midwife's theater, a coordinated equation of life and death, and thus the space of neither for this inbetween. Afterlife meets prelife. Nascent, a little girl, sleeping soundly, head upon a pillow and body under a blanket. That this is all illusion, wishes made so hard they might be a window into the truth, the delusion of a zealot father made from magic and hypnotism, dissuades no-one, least of all the man and his incomplete goddess (the latter of whom is probably taking form notes in unconscious shape). Alive, just barely, from the collective faith of a community willing to believe someone better can take up the role of death from madmen and tricksters.

From black robes, living hands with a backing of bone-signs draw a new candle, this one cylinder a sign that sleeps in peace compared to the floating symbols about them. With merely sight and a silent prayer to the girl who isn't yet made, the sign of the future is carved into that sweet-smelling gift: the hooded figure bearing light in the tunnel.

With will, a moment turns to many moments, a concentration of well-wishes and intents flowing from priest to goddess. The candle lights, and he sets it gently afloat near the windowside as the room feels ever so slightly more at peace than it is waiting for completion.

"May you wake in glory, sweet Morth." Uzorkh says quietly with another bony smile. The gold, seemingly satisfied, flits out a window and leaves the goddess to rest and the priest to take his leave.

The man who is at once Death and a man quietly walks out the door to the world of the living, and wakes up there. The sigil is carved: one can only hope that it is the assent of divinity rather than a waste of both belief and power. He rises, takes this drafted candle, and brings it to another lab for testing. Idly, he wonders if he should write this down as some form of scripture: he elects to journal it as a personal experience instead and share that around to the other priests in case they wish to take his dream-vision further. Maybe they could formalize a prayer of blessing out of this, once Morth wakes up...

(Time for some good ol' warning stories.)
(Death is not all sunshine and skelletons, folks.)
(Alternate version of my omake that always confused posted, I did not want to double post)
(How ever, some alternative bolding and italics in this version.)
=====
Kendrik Malstrom, was a bad man.
He was a bandit, a murderer, a reprobate.
Why did he do this?
"Death, does not matter."

Either you end up in the hands of undeath or you end up in the candlebearers paradise, he believed.
He believed his actions in live did not affect his death.
Which is why, he bleed out with a smile.
====
"Kendrik Malstrom" A kind, heavinly voice said.
Ken was not afraid, as he stared at the cloaked form of the candlebearer.
She was a woman covered in beautiful white robes, golden inscriptures of skulls and graves upon it.
Her skin was ashen, almost like wax, and her eyes were flames.
The skin around her eyes drooped, like melting was, only to regrow.
She didn't seem to mind.

"So, what now candleholder?" Ken asked, as his hand snaked to the goddess behind.
After all, he was already dead, what could she do to him?
She was only death, afterall.

The goddess flowed out of the way like smoke, and held up a golden candleholder.
It was stylised like a skull, and it lit up when looking at him, producing a grey candle.
The candlebearer brought it up to her eyes, lighting it.
While the bearers eyes were a beautiful flame shifting between all colors, this flame was merely black.
"So candleholder, what do I get for my after life. I would like some wine and women." Smiled the foolish murderer.

The space SHIFTED as the candle bearer changed. Her legs and arms were covered in armor of burning oak, her form surrounded by a cloak of ash.
Her belly was replaced by a giant skull, holding a burning flame. Her chest was a crystal eye staring into him.
Her head was skull covered by an iron helmet, covering her eyes.
"My previous mask was the Matron, mortal. The one who gives mercy."
Ken moved back, as her voice was like fire talking now, and sickening like ash.
"But right now, I am bearing the mask of the Inferno. I am the judge, as your candle shows how you lived your life."

Goddess head turned up side down and asked "Tell me Kendrik Malstorm, son of Alias Malstorm and Serid Falls. What is the purpose of life? What is the purpose of death?"
Ken moved back "I did what you should do with life, life as you want!"
"Wrong." The goddess said, moving closer.
"Life is about fulfililng our life and those of others. Hurting others, just to help yourself, is to hurt life itself." The Inferno slowly approached.
"Death is where souls can release their burden of life. Those who lived good, get eased into it. Those who lived while harming others, those who lived selfish."
The Inferno leaned in "Get handed to me, to burn away their sin."
Kendrik turned around and ran, but the goddess appeared before him in a wave of ash and stench.
"Burn, Kendrik Malstrom." She reached out to the soul, turning it into a candle.
And then lit it to her burning belly.
===
Kendrik ran, as the soldiers chased him.
Kendrik hurt as spears ripped him apart.
Kendrik screamed, as he was eaten.
Kendrik cried, as what he loved was torn apart.
Kendrik, felt regret.
As the dead cannot die, but they can suffer.
===
The Matron of endless candles cried her wax tears, as placed another candle holding a poor, misguided soul with the stone chamber within her mausoleum palace.
She always cried, as the fates of those misguided souls saddened her.
But it was required, it was good.
The Gravekeeper maintained the cycle.
The Inferno punished the wicked.
And Morth, the endless maiden of candles, could only offer comfort those she could.
As Morth was endless, endless masks and endless voices, all into one form.
The kind matron with eyes of fire and skin like wax, crying wax for the souls of the lost.

[X] Research Wizardry
-[X] Painkiller Candles

Palstat sees the value in having candle that can ease the pain and helps Uzorkh...maybe a way to either make these candles last longer,or maybe it can also bring it's peace to the undead...

He also begins writing some Scripture

---------------------



It is spoken that Morth's,the Endless Matron of Candles, afterlife is full of candles,each representing a Soul under her care,each also being a door to her created experience for each of them.
It is said that a Candle's length represent's the combined impact a Soul had on a world and the color represents their personality.
It's rumored that she crafts each experience based on what their inner most wishes and also what is fair;she embraces all,but she also does not condone the most horrific of crimes,thus,her form as The Inferno.
It is also whispered,particularly among families where a loved one is about to fade,that keep the candles close with the candles of Loved ones,on top of golden Candlesticks that combine their shared experiences such that they may reunite with each other.
It is told,that this Afterlife,is without the undue suffering,without forcefully awoken in this world again to wreck havoc on the world.

"Dad-"

Danaal glanced up from his paper. Scurra had that look on her face again; the look only a nine-year-old could muster up. Somewhere between confusion, determination and the kind of will that could conquer the world if it was only married to an attention span longer than four seconds.

"Dad, what are we doing here?"

Here being the camp, of course. It was a long way from home. He made himself smile at her.

"Making new friends, blossom."

She considered that for a long moment, dubiously. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Scurra looked down at her feet. Danaal felt his brain shift gears.

"Something wrong?" he asked, gently.

"'M not making any friends," she said, in a little voice. That was too much to bear.

Danaal swept her up into his arms. "I'm very sorry to hear that, dear heart," he said solemnly. "Why not?"

"They're all grownups."

"You can be friends with grownups!"

"'M not, though."

He squeezed her shoulders. "Not yet. Give them a little time. Everything's very new to them, so far."

"It's new to me too! And I don't shout at people not to get underfoot!"

Shout? Oh, someone was going to pay for that. But it was a problem for another time. "Well, you can be friends with me, then," he said, gently. "How about you help me with the play?"

Her ears pricked up. "Play?"

He nodded. "Here. You read these bits where it says the lady in the mask, and I'll read these bits where it says vulture. Okay?"

"...Okay."

He grinned, and cleared his throat.

"Tell me, lady, where are your wears? I see only your old coat."

Scurra furrowed her brow at him, but she looked at the page again. "Why, my friend, you are already wearing a most fet- fet kuh-"

"Fetching."

"Fetching mask. Look and see."

She seemed to perk up as they went on. A little actress, clearly. Danaal pressed a kiss to her forehead as they came to the end.

"Good, isn't it?"

"Yes, daddy," she said dutifully. He gave her an amused glance.

"'yes daddy,'" he mimicked. "You hate it, don't you."

"It's a bit... talky," said Scurra, giving him a pout that promised retribution later. "They don't really do anything."

Danaal glanced back at the page. She had a point.

"So they do. Would you rather I showed what the vulture did?"

She nodded.

"Well. Alright. Let's see what we can do on about that..."

---
[X] Write-in- ADAPT THE SCRIPTURE OF THE VULTURE AND THE MASK SELLER INTO A PLAY

(I figure that @Lizard Knight can use his action to perform it, along with anyone else who wants to, and use it as a tool to boost their roll. Assuming it works, of course.)

[X] Use a play to spread scripture more effectively
-[X] Spread 'The Vulture and the Mask seller', but sell it as 'the tale of three masks'

I like your idea @djehuty3
Let me add my first Vignete, as is appearently omake day.
...oh wait you already made an omake
Welp, I will use it as a jumping off point then.
(Djehuty3 tel me if I need to edit anything. To keep into Danaals character)
=====
The old vulture breathed in.
Hope, believe, that was what he felt in this little ccamp of travellers that had made this village their home.
For now, atleast.

Helping with gathering funds and saving a young ladies life, wel it did his old heart good to help people.
He saw Danaal, writting like a man possesed with his daughter near him.

"Greetings, friends, what are you doing, might I enquire?" The old vulture asked.
The kid looked up at him and stepped back (...He was not that scary, was he?) while Danaal replied
"Ah, Allister. Good to see you. I am making your story into a play."

Allister smiled (as much as someone can with a beak) "Wonderful, might I read your work?"
Danaal handed him the papers, and the vultures feathered eyebrows shot up
"...I never implied that the man in the story was a vulture."
Danaal stared at him with a blank face "Alli, this is the most obvious self insert story ever."
The vulture coughed into his hand. "Umm, very wel, do you need any aid?"
Danaal took the papers and replied "Yes, there is not enough action. There is only talking with no action to put it into context."
The vulture nodded "I shall aid you in that, I am also willing to join the play."
Danaal grinned "Good, would be akward to have the vulture not actually being one."

Sorry, I promise I'll stop spamming the thread after this, but this idea for a scripture would not leave me alone.

---

The Wisdom of the Orphan Girl

Once, in the darkness, there was a king. This king was cruel, and ruled unjustly; his armies plundered the farms, and the homesteads, leaving nothing for the people but cruel hunger and brutal thirst. But the king was not opposed, for all who rose against him were struck down by his soldiers. And what soldiers they were, for in their hearts was not even a single candle's worth of light, or love, or kindness. They were taken as babes from the arms of their mothers, and raised in pens and training halls deep beneath the king's castle. Then, as men, they were sent out to kill and maim.

By their hands, the people died in their droves, and went into the light to meet the Candle-Mother. Each was granted respite, but their stories set Holy Morth's heart to grieving. But what could she do? The life of the living must be governed by their free will, so they might choose kindness or cruelty, and so be judged in death fairly.

And yet, how could she let this go on? Those lives were short compared to the eternity of death, but they were not without value. Life was precious too, as was death.

Between these two truths, the Limitless One was caught. But then, a wisdom came to her. She took up the mask of The One Who Sees By Light Unseen, who watches all who live that she might judge them better. Her eyes pierced that darkness until she came upon an orphan girl, standing over the graves of her parents. She gazed deep within that little one's heart, and saw-

A balancing act. On the one hand, there was hate; hate born of grief, and misery. Hate that would damn her parents killers to agony eternal, and in so doing damn herself. But on the other...

On the other, buried deep beneath the soil of her pain, was a little seed. It was a seed of kindness, of empathy that only comes when one was suffered, and in suffering comes to understand the pain of others. It was a small seed. It would be easy for it to starve.

It would be the little orphan girl who would decide if it flourished or not.

The One Who Sees saw this, and judged it perfect. She revealed herself to the orphan, who fell on her knees at the sight of such majesty.

"Be not afraid," said the One Who Sees. "I have seen your suffering, dear one. I offer you a choice." She reached within herself, and brought forth three fragments of porcelain taken from her masks. Holy Morth held up the first fragment.

"This was taken from the Mask of the Endless Matron. It brings with it the power to heal the sick, and wounded, and in pain. For those too far gone into my kingdom, it offers the sight of the better world to come that they have earned. I give you this for but a little while."

And she pressed the fragment against the orphan girl's tongue, where it became as honey, and flowed down into her soul. Holy Morth held up the second fragment.

"This was taken from the Mask of the Inferno. It brings with it the power to punish the wicked with pain and fire, and the fear that comes from knowing your punishment is both just and unending. I give you this for but a little while."

And she pressed the fragment against the orphan girl's tongue, where it became as sullen embers, and flowed down into her soul. Holy Morth held up the third fragment.

"This was taken from the Mask of the One Who Sees By Light Unseen. It brings with it the power to gaze upon a living soul, and know them down to their very roots. With this you might learn another's deepest, innermost thoughts and secrets. I give you this for but a little while."

And she pressed the fragment against the orphan girl's tongue, where it became as ink and paper, and flowed down into her soul.

"Know this, little one," said Holy Morth. "The king is cruel beyond imagining. His armies have taken from you your parents, and that is neither the least nor the greatest of their crimes."

And with that, she went to leave.

"Wait!" said the orphan girl. "Am I to strike him down, then? At your bidding?"

And Morth looked at her. The girl could discern no expression beneath her mask.

"I do not command the living, little one," she said. And was gone.

And so the Orphan Girl was left alone. She looked out across the darkness, and decided. With the power of the three fragments, she cast back the king's armies, and freed the people from their tyranny, until at last there was only his castle left. Before her, the soldiers' weapons were as smoke, and their armour as air. She left them naked and unarmed, trembling before her.

It would be easy, now, to kill them. In her heart, the hate called out- yes. Yes. Slay them all. Let them burn in the fires of the Inferno. But the little seed whispered- tread carefully.

The Orphan Girl looked at the king, trembling and begging for his life. With the gift of the third fragment, she gazed into his soul and saw- cruelty. Oceans of cruelty, with nothing else present. He was a man who would torment and torture without a thought, for whom the pain of others meant less than nothing. Satisfied with her decision, she let loose the fires of the Inferno, and left him as nothing but ash and cinders.

She turned to the soldiers. But when she looked at them with the gift of the third fragment, she saw-

No cruelty. No hate. They had been raised as machines, these men; tools for killing. They knew no other way.

And she let loose the healing of the Endless Matron; a gentle, soothing light that filled the soldiers' souls like sunbeams and cool water. The soldiers knew kindness, then, at last and for the first time in their lives, and they wept with gratitude and guilt for what they had done.

In that place, and at that time, Morth came forth, resplendent in her glory, and all fell to their knees.

"Well done," she said to the Orphan Girl. She reached out, and took back the three fragments. "You have defeated the king and his armies. Now, I shall judge them."

Then did Morth take up the mask of the Inferno. From that dread visage belched forth the flames of retribution, and she made to burn the soldiers to ash, each and every one.

But the Orphan girl barred her way. She was powerless now, less than nothing before the might of the Inferno. But she did not move.

"Holy Morth, I beseech you, do not harm these men," said the Orphan girl. The Inferno roared.

"You would defy me? You, who I have raised up from nothing? You would deny my judgement?"

The Orphan girl almost quailed, but she steeled herself. "Yes," she said. "I would."

"By what right do you deny my command?"

"In threefold ways. Firstly, I defy you in the name of justice. These men did not understand what they had done. Their minds and bodies had been made into tools by a cruel and wicked man. One does not blame a tool for the fashion in which it is used. Secondly, I defy you in the name of mercy. If you feed them to your fires, these men will suffer forever after. Their crimes, while awful, were limited in scope. Some have earned that, I will not argue. But if there is even a hint of doubt, how then can you punish them so harshly? And thirdly..."

And here the Orphan girl almost fell silent, for it is beyond impertinence to stand against a god, but again she steeled herself and continued.

"And thirdly, I defy you in the name of order. You are queen of the dead, and these men are living. And you do not command the living."

The silence that came after this was longer than any the Orphan girl had ever heard before, and deeper too. For an awful moment, she thought herself doomed to a hell of her own making.

And then came... applause. She looked up into the face of the Inferno, and saw its great and violent hands clapping.

"Well done," said Morth. "Well done indeed." And she pressed a kiss to the forehead of the Orphan girl, leaving a perfect scar in the centre of her forehead. And she returned to the Candle Hall, satisfied.

Okay. So. I figure it might be useful to round up everything we've got on our goddess so far.

We know her name is Morth. (Obvious, I know, but I did say everything.)

Quoting from the QM, we know the below is all currently true-

-A Goddess who is able to take forms as she desires and can occupy multiple locations at once.

-Morth cares greatly about the mental well-being of those she escorts to the afterlife, appearing in the form of her charges to comfort them.

-Makes absolutely certain that people get a nice afterlife.

-They like architecture that is both practical and looks nice, particularly for cemetaries and other tombs.

-Is completely and impartially fair to everyone. Morth does not care if you are young, old, rich or poor. She will embrace you all the same.

From the scripture we've got so far, we know that the forms she takes include (but are not limited to-)

THE ENDLESS MATRON, who is the kind, motherly incarnation that loves the souls of the virtuous dead and makes their perfect afterlives in candles.

THE INFERNO, who punishes the wicked by creating hellish, eternal punishments for them, which are then set in grey candles with black flames on candlesticks with skulls on them. This incarnation is associated with fire, and has a particularly fucked-up appearance as detailed in the Parable of Kendrik Malstrom,

THE ONE WHO SEES BY LIGHT UNSEEN, who observes the living and knows everything about everyone so they can be properly judged in the afterlife.

THE MASKSELLER, who wanders the world of the living and revealing people's true selves to them.

THE LITTLE ONE who brings salvation through adorableness, who started life as the sleeping larval form of Morth. She enters the eternal punishment candles created by the Inferno and (when the sinner has learnt their lesson and repented) helps them move on to better worlds.

Those five have all appeared in scripture- Inferno and Mask Seller were pitched by @Lizard Knight, the One Who Sees was pitched by me, Endless Matron came out of @I just write 's initial description of our compromise god, and Little One who first showed up in @Nedben's first vignette and then got promoted to full-blown mask so we didn't accidentally turn Morth into a judgemental sociopath throwing eternal punishment around like candy.

Other forms pitched but not as of yet appearing in scripture include THE GRAVEDIGGER, who was pitched by @Lizard Knight. We chatted a bit, and their pitch is that the Gravedigger represents death as part of the cycle of life; things die, decay, and become fertilizer for the next form of life. Death isn't bad, because from death comes new life. THE TAXMAN, also pitched by @Lizard Knight. Governs fair contracts of service between the living and the dead, so we can have necromancers of our own who aren't massive dicks like Zerrakh's crowd. We also had @Sereg 's idea earlier in the thread for a female goddess who associates death with childbirth, which I think could make for an awesome form.

Getting away from forms, for a minute, we also know that Morth's bit of the afterlife/palace/domain/whatever is called the Candle Hall or Hall of Candles, as described by @paradoxdragon. Which I think is a groovy name. The Candlehall is full of the candles which contain the afterlives of everyone who dies. From @Nedben , we also know that the dead can travel from their afterlife to other spirits' afterlives, or move into "the shining world of light beyond." We do not know what that is precisely.

Looking at traditions, we also know from that scripture that Morth worshippers surround the dying with candles, which is a nice touch.

As for associate spirits and servants, that's a little more complicated. From @Nedben 's vignette about sneaking into the godwomb to see baby-Morth (dawwwwww) we know there's crow spirits, dead spirits who legged it from Zerrakh and are currently hiding from him with Morth, gravedigger spirits, and this one golden butterfly who might just be his PC's personal symbol. From scripture, we also have demons who teach the wicked to be nicer people (Nedben's), an Orphan Girl who punished a king but forgave his army (mine), a flock of birds who became the stars (also mine), and a soldier slash doctor slash gravedigger (Lizard Knights, and in no way his PC no sir). Whether these dudes are once-off or come back again is yet to be decided.

We do, however have Shale, a skeletal hawk that reaps birds, as pitched by Lizard Knight and showing up in scripture!

Anyway! That gives us a fairly solid picture of our goddess so far. There's two main themes showing up so far- candles (which also has the subthemes of fire and light), and Masks, which is associated with how she shifts forms. I also personally think the mask one has a nice implication we haven't touched so far- what does Morth look like under the mask? Could a mortal survive seeing her true face? Could anyone? I mean, what does the true face of a death goddess even look like?