Name: Brey

Form:
He is in the form of a five foot nine and a half old man.


Personality: Brey is a god that strives to learn, grow in maturity and power. He isn't the ordinary power monger. The reason he wants power is to provide and protect mortal beings, and to teach them how to do the same for other mortals. He would also keep power out of the wrong hands, so that they would not bring unreasonable harm to others or themselves. He is likely to take power away from those who abuse it. However, having said that, Brey is patient, and despite believing in being responsible with power and knowledge, he is not as harsh as he thinks he could be.

Another good way to describe Brey is "Arrogant, but genuinely kind."

Will: Will, knowledge and wisdom. He's not the god of will, knowledge and wisdom yet, but has a strong desire to learn, teach and become powerful, not just through learning, but through sheer will. This manifests it'self in the powers of science and magic most of all, but he would also attempt to teach others wisdom and how to live their lives as well. If he had ALL the nodes, he would be a god among gods, have the ability to strip all the magic from the universe and take it for himself, but that's not his will. His intentions, should he have all that power would be to keep all creation in a cycle of eternal spiritual and mental growth, so they would grow in not just power but learn how to live and become not just smart but sagely.

Favorite Color: Blue

Name: Lamarck

Form: A hulking behemoth that can only be vaguely described as humanoid. He stands at least a head taller than the the tallest human. A cascade of bronze feathers grows for his head and neck in the imitation of hair. His dark red eyes have an inhuman, avian quality to them. His arms are adorned with bronze scales, and his hands are webbed and clawed. His lower body is covered by proper bronze armor. A long feline-like tail trails behind him.

Personality: His straight-forward and blunt demeanor hides a deceptive wit. He values independence, tenacity, and resourcefulness. He has scorn for the slothful and wasteful. Stoic to a fault, he is difficult to please and slow to anger. The most assured means to provoke him to devastate life by either stupidity or malice. While he takes no issue with hierarchy, he has little patience for tyrants.

The Will of Survival: A simple premise - those that are fit will thrive, while those who are not will perish. Vitality and constitution are the prime virtues of survival. However contrary to what others might think, fitness is far more than physical strength. Cunning is important to life as fools are quick to die. The dogma of his will can be apply to a single individual as well as collectives. He is not so narrow-sighted to miss the forest for the trees.

His sanctified wildlands have great treasures and great dangers. By his will, life becomes more fit.

Favorite Color: Dark Red

Name:
Vatarr

Form:


As a deity that represents the cycle of life, death and renewal Vatarr's form is in something of a state in-between all three of those states at once. Standing above humans in height, Vatarr's body is a mixture of plant and meat that is in a slow but constant state of flex; There will be parts of his body that are in fully bloom/in prime condition, others that are actively rotting and falling off in chunks like decaying meat on a body being moved... with a third section that is clearly new flesh and plants that are actively growing. As the older parts start to decay and die and the newer growths flourish in the fertile patches left once the rotting process is complete, it is rare for Vatarr to look exactly the same in-between meetings with them.

The one constant is their head, which has a mask/skull like quality to it, covered by growths and bumps that on closer inspection turn out to be a variety of fungi. The horns appear to be optional, appearing in different states of growth at Vatarr's desire.

Personality:
Vatarr is a jolly fellow who never seems to be without a smile on their face. No matter the circumstances that arise, Vatarr will always consider and act like he is talking to a friend he has known for eons, be they god or mortal. This doesn't necessarily means he'll intervene in a given situation since strive, suffering and death are all natural parts of life... but he'll happily listen as someone vents about their troubles all the same.

Will:
Life, Death and Renewal/Rebirth. Where other deities are hung up on life having to be a certain way, Vatarr is more concerned with creating a world in which life happens at all. To him, the ideal world that could be created is one in which life and death are apart of the same never ending cycle: Living things are born and live out their lives pursuing their desires before one day they will lay down and die, their remains returning to the world and enriching it, allowing for new life to be created and for the cycle to start again.

In the event of total victory, Vatarr's ideal world wouldn't have a fixed form. Species, the environment, weather... all of it would be left to their own devices without any interference. The only time Vatarr would act would be in the event that something happened to wipe out all life on the planet in such a way that nothing can survive and new life cannot form... in which case he will seed the world with life anew and restart the cycle anew.

Favorite Color:
Dark Green

Name:

Dzallitsunya

Form:



She takes the form of a human woman, tall and thin, though the finer details change in phases much like the moon, sometimes her skin is of a pallid copper tone while in others its pale white, sometimes her hair is long or short, her clothing maintains a constant elegant style, predominantly black textiles, gold and platinum jewellery and flowing capes with details in muted colours.

Personality:

She is a passionate woman with a true love for the world and mortals, she presents herself as reasonable, a warrior whose sword is the shield of all that is gentle and delicate, a crusader against the brutality and savagery of the world. In her mind, however, the sources of such troubles are simple, the tyranny of the sun. With particular zeal, she believes in a great conspiracy where the world was once gentle and starlit, but one greedy star decided to be bigger, scorching the land and blinding the mortals with its light.

With a belief so different from what most believe, she is forced to face the reality of a world that sees the sun in a positive light and holds the shadows as sinister. This twists her whole existence into constant coping, manifesting sometimes in bitter ramblings and mistrust, other times in exaggerated acts to make the night more pleasant than day. In truth, her whole "reasonability" is in truth closer to "tolerance" or "staying quiet for the sake of civility" as there is no true reasoning with her, she believes she is right, all others are at best blinded and misguided or at worse conspiring for the forces of light.

Will:

Darkness. The Sun will be exiled to the Horizon, peeking at the land but never again reigning in the skies. In an age of eternal twilight, gods and humans with eyes healed from the blinding light will once again learn to appreciate the gentle shadow. There will be no more man with burning ambitions and a will to set the world ablaze to fulfil it, no more slaves wasting away tending fields under the scorching sun. Instead, the world will be an eternal evening, where work is gentle and every village is filled with the sound of music and laughter, people's mind will be free of impossible dreams and distant glories and they will learn to be content and mindful, in this world the vilest of men will be at worst romantic figures of palace schemers or noble thieves, battles fought in personal duels and not by the sacrifice of armies.

Dzallitsunya does not seek to destroy the other gods or cast them away, even the ones who are sinful agents of the blinding light, they will be allowed to exist and maintain their realms within her new world order, of course, she herself will be the leader, a philosopher queen of the pantheon above all others, a more than deserved position after she brings down the usurper star and guarantees eternal peace.

Favorite Color:

Pale Teal

Name:
Asvarad

Form:
At a hundred and fifty feet long and twenty around the great serpent Asvarad is among the most physically imposing of the new pantheon. Deep violent scales as large as dinner plates and as strong as shields protect the god’s muscular flanks and contrast with pale, elongated underbelly scales. Some see this and label him a mere snake, but quite unlike his lesser animal cousins Asvarad has a maw lined with spade-like cutting teeth rather than fangs. The differences don’t end there either. The serpent god has no less than three pairs of eyes looking ahead, to the side, and behind him. Moreover, long fleshy whiskers line the gods lower lip such that he might find his way in the darkest tunnels and oldest places where there exists no light for even the keenest eyes.

It is an ability that comes in handy more often than not. For while Asvarad is vast and powerful, he is not nimble or stealthy. Indeed, the great serpent spends more time away from the light than bathing underneath it for to leave a hiding place is to lose it, and so once he has found one Asvarad is only roused from his places of safety at great need.

Personality:
Bitter, sarcastic, and altogether unpleasant are fitting terms to describe Asvarad’s company. For all the things Asvarad may be, friendly is not one. The serpent god is never in a good mood, but it would be a fool who sees this and presumes it evidence of an impulsive and crass being. Asvarad makes no niceties, but neither does he seek out conflict pointlessly. In truth, the serpent god is above all else patient and deliberate. If ever asked, Asvarad would pin his attitude on the fact that he is being forced away from what matters and made to engage in something so plodding and frustrating as conversation.

Even if he prefers not to share, Asvarad is always thinking. He is, when not actively being bothered by his kin or their mortal pets, patiently laying plans or considering the consequences of doing so. When Asvarad does act on his schemes he always endeavors to accomplish his goal without anyone noticing he was ever involved. As such, the serpent god is truly contemptuous of those of his peers whose solutions tend to involve smashing things or making loud declarations. Such contempt often leads to animosity, and often a greater animosity than Asvarad would hold against those actively trying to subvert him.

As for what the serpent is planning and what others might act against? Of all things, it is this which Asvarad guards most closely. If another god sets out to determine what Asvarad wants they can divine it from the great serpents actions, if at all. He will not be telling them.

Will:
Asvarad’s will is that of the mind. He prizes, above all, the freest and purest thought. It is this conviction which biases the serpent god against the material. The basic, disgusting, and chemical demands of the flesh degrade the purity of the mind, and so it would be better if they did not exist at all. Were Asvarad to claim all the nodes and usher in a new age at the end of days, he would create a world without form. Shape and time would be abandoned, and all that would remain would be thought. Every mind emancipated and free to explore its own depths forever. In such a world, perhaps, interaction wouldn’t be strangled in its crib by the weakness of speech. In such a world, perhaps, Asvarad would be happy to talk of anything and everything.

Favorite Color:
Violet.

Name: Cotazur

Form:
Cotazur takes the shape of a man of average height, early in the eve of his days as characterised by his gray hair and wrinkled features. A well-kempt and smooth-cut mutton chop beard trails his jaw and bridges across his upper lip, exposing a strong, cleaven chin. Much more skin is hardly visible on the man, as the rest of his body is covered in a marine blue overcoat of cotton over a mighty cuirass yet over a long mail underskirt. A striking ribbon of red velvet upon white silk cuts across his torso from right shoulder to left hip, and gleaming cold rims every corner and strip of his armour - the hips and shoulders themselves protect themselves with thick plates. Down his back, Cotazur sports a cumbersome, overflowing cloak of silvery fur from a magnificent beast of legend.



Personality:
Every inch of Cotazur’s form radiates authority. With a silhouette as broad as a boar and a scowl as harsh as the winter, his presence alone would bring the silence of a graveyard to the rowdiest of feasts.

Except that’s about where his authority ends - if it even reaches here at all. Cotazur commands no crowd with his voice - it is small and unconvincing, while his words are grand and empty. Even with divine power, Cotazur cannot seem to do anything right - his ravenous ambition is constantly sabotaged by his inability to communicate properly with others. He knows well what a failure he is, and it irks him to no end. He is therefore quick to snap at his peers and even exercise violence in want of other ways to express himself - and violence, he has learnt, usually gets you whatever you want.

Will:
Cotazur has the Will of Glory. Cotazur wishes to be heard, to be seen, but it runs deeper than that: His deepest desire is for people to recognise him for something other than his endless mistakes and to worship him for his successes. However, this will twists and ferments in his impatience, and his yearning for glory may lead him on a bloody path of conquest and despotism if that’s what it takes.

Had Cotazur ruled all the nodes, then maybe this would have sated his inner desire; maybe this would have been some form of victory that people would recognise him for. That is, if there are any left by the time he’s done.

Favorite Color:
Burgundy

Name: Grym, The Unfinished

Form: Perhaps the most immediately noticeable feature he portrays is his face or the lack thereof. His entire head, in fact, is just an average human skull floating serendipitously above the rest of his corporeal form. His head sits abnormally still as if it were attached to an invisible neck, though if someone were to grasp at such a thing they would not find purchase. He is able to turn his head 360 degrees and his mouth parts do chatter when he is speaking. It isn't particularly necessary for him to emote to speak, but he is an expressive individual in spite of his lack of... features.

The rest of him is similarly humanoid in shape and stature. His body remains in a state of shambles by design. Rot and decay are rampant throughout the entirety of his being. The aesthetic is closest to what you might picture a typical undead thrall to look like. Parts of his body remain nearly pristine with musculature and skin seemingly intact while other areas display rot so advanced that bits of dry, bloodied flesh barely cling to the bone.

Grym is usually seen wearing a full suit of iron plate armor indicative of his dilapidated condition. That is to say, it is also ridden with rust and wear including a gaping hole in the left breast of the chest piece. The suit is clumsily adorned as his body is too asymmetrical from the advanced decay for it to ever look quite right on him. The rusted plates and joints shuffle around more than they would normally due to the ill fit. At a distance, it can even be kind of funny to see this misshapen figure hobbling about in a suit of armor that clearly doesn't fit. Mortals who've seen him up close are usually instilled with a morbid compulsion to stare at the rotted carapace. Those who experience the sight often warn of the tell-tale metallic rattle and recommend to those that hear it to cast their eyes down at their feet, without so much as a glance, until the sound fades completely.

When it comes to the elements, Grym is not particularly resilient nor susceptible to anything beside the extremes. As a God, he does not require food or warmth. Long exposures to cold may freeze the joints of his battered armor or cause the bits of remaining flesh on his body to seize up, slowing him, but he feels no physical sensations as a result. In contrast, heat does not have an observable effect on him. Without the need to hydrate or seek shelter the only real threat in this regard would be fire; not that there is much flesh left on him to burn. Most forms of outright physical damage can damage him, though the threshold for such damage to take tangible effect is higher. Damage is relevant in the sense that the bones in his arm being crushed to the point of non-function would prevent it from functioning, but anything short of that statute would at best be an inconvenience. So long as his form remains "functional," then he can continue to make it function. He can still be hurt or restrained or moved (etc.), but the threshold for effective injury is, dare I say, God-like?

Personality: Grym is kind of like a cat. The fact that his face is just an unshifting skull looming just above his body makes him hard enough to get a read on and yet he's the type of man who you will always notice is in the foreground of events. Not necessarily at the center of it all, but never far off and certainly unafraid to take the spotlight should it suit him. What his physical features do to betray this fact, he does not hide the inherent curiosity of his character. He takes great pleasure in simply being a part of the world, another cog in the machine. Sometimes he is the cog that moves others and other times it is others who spur the actions he takes. At the bare minimum, he requires himself to be present during the exciting world-altering events; at most he revels in being the one to shape the world. It is an ebb and flow of consistent involvement where his influence upon events is dictated purely by his interest in what's happening.

If you set aside his appearance and look only at the actions he takes, it is evident he puts forth great effort in being present. The fact that he is noticed in the corner of your eye during a discussion or that he answers a summons meant for another is never a coincidence. Grym is a man who enjoys watching, interacting, and meddling to see what happens. For him the world is as massive as it is incomprehensible. That's the way he likes it. The way he interacts could be interpreted as almost innocent or childlike. He asks questions and responds in kind, he will openly like or dislike others, and he'll take action so long as the result doesn't limit him in the future.

This idea hangs on the cusp of his sole motivation to take the nodes. His desire to control the nodes is simply so that another can't impose their singular will upon the world. The way things are now, in constant flux, is where Grym would keep things. His medium of control over the world would simply be the prevention of any other being, himself included, from imposing too much control or principle. He believes that such conformity would take all the fun out of it and would dissuade others from acting as freely as they normally would in response to the ire of whoever held the seat of power. If the seat of power is never taken, then everyone remains emboldened and the world continues to be interesting.

Will: Hedonism. Freedom. Forever. Grym is unbelievably selfish. It is said when he awoke that his empty sockets first saw the starry sky and he thought to himself, "I would have the world if only so that the starlight would always be mine to bask in." The will of Grym is simply to exist in a world unabated by a singular, constant influence. Seeing the dying God that birthed the new pantheon solidified that sentiment. Of course a single entity couldn't bring the world under its dominion; an ambition like that was nothing short of insanity. Now the new Gods bicker over who the next failure will be. You'd have thought the very sight of an all-powerful would illuminate them, but no. Only Gym could see the quintessential flaw of a crown that spans the world. It is too heavy a burden for anyone and the world nearly became lifeless, and more importantly dreadfully boring, because of misplaced ambition. The sight of the night sky had struck awe in Grym's wake and the rest of the world continued to enamor him. The fact that these Gods felt they could improve upon this was blasphemous. The only recourse was to prevent stagnation. It was his duty to stop short-sighted Gods from ruining a world already perfect. They weren't capable of seeing beauty in the world that already is, but Grym is willing to oblige his foolish fellows in forsaking their broken system. By whatever means necessary, of course.

Favorite Color: Bright Red