Athra

The Chess Analogy

Successful mythologies and traditions associate their more esoteric concepts--like gods and goddess--with something people interact with every day. Landforms, seasons, animals, even objects. Because BattleMaster is a medieval period "low fantasy" setting, the game of Chess was considered to be especially apt as a teaching device. The cosmology, elements of the afterlife, and especially the pantheon are all analogous to Chess.

If the pieces on the board represent the relationships between gods, goddesses, and humanity (pawns, if you will), then it follows that the gods of Athra are not omnipotent. They should be considered "weak" gods because their influence and power is limited by rules that they themselves may be unaware of. Kings are leaders and the most important pieces on a chess board, but they are not necessarily the most powerful. Queens are the "powers behind the throne", and this is reflected in their ability to exercise a great deal of control and influence over the entire board. Rooks are the trusted and stalwart confidants of Kings, shielding them in times of crisis. Again, the analogy to the game is evident.

The Chess analogy is a powerful explanatory device for a religion in which gods can "play games" with mortals, but with restrictions. This potent but limited power over humanity means that mortals can (and do) influence the outcome of the game. In risking their lives to cross the board, pawns are rewarded through elevation to immortality. But the Chess analogy cannot explain everything. At the start of a game of Chess, there are two diametrically opposed forces: black and white. The board is orderly, and goals and objectives seem clear. But what happens when the game has been played for a length of time? The board becomes a chaotic mess, with multiple angles of attack. It takes an increasing amount of concentration to understand the chaos. Now, picture a chess board with pieces in shades of grey. At the start of the game, the only thing that allows you to clearly identify your enemy is the distance between each of you. As the game progresses, how confident are you that this cosmic duality can be maintained? What if your knights, bishops, and rooks began to think for themselves? What if your pawns, believing that the path to eternity lies at the other end of the board, were proven disastrously wrong on occasion?

Beliefs

Athra is a rich and ancient tradition which incorporates a wide variety of beliefs from such sources as local folklore, traditional mythologies surrounding the various gods and goddesses, and a few widely-held universal precepts. These precepts are deceptively simple, and that's sort of the whole point. Nobody enjoys being told how to live their lives in minute detail, but they do like to know when they might be doing something which displeases the particular god(s) they have devoted their time to.

Morality

Morality is a concept which often relies on dualities or opposite extremes. Either you are "good", or you are "evil". The complex interactions among Athra's pantheon and the central role of humanity in the cosmic "game" require a different perspective. Instead, it's better to think of things in terms of interests and ambitions. A wealthy patron of Cerog, for example, may be overly concerned with the acquisition of wealth, the construction of grand enterprises, or the foundation of an economic empire. He believes Cerog (and possibly Fiore) can help him pursue these goals, and so lavishes both time and money on the god in hopes of obtaining his favor. The gods and goddesses themselves have interests. Chiefly, they are concerned with the protection of their domains of influence. Some occasionally show an ambitious streak and seek to expand into another god's territory. Hence, while a god or goddess might otherwise be the embodiment of moral purity, they will occasionally deem it necessary to accept the patronage of an individual for very selfish reasons.

Creation

Unlike many religions, Athra does not have a creation myth which precedes time. In the cosmos of Athra, time is circular and in many respects irrelevant. We are concerned with things as they are. So for our purposes, time "began" when the continents were formed and humans began popping up. The central creation myth of Athra concerns a Spellmaster known only as the Fiendlord. Time and fear have washed his true name from history, and that is probably for the best.

The Fiendlorn

The greatest spellmaster of his age, the Fiendlorn was an infamous necromancer and conjurer of demons who vanished abruptly over a thousand years ago. Few who study such things believe that he is dead, if only because at the time of his disappearance there was too little humanity left in him for death (and subsequently Fell) to have any dominion over his body or soul. It is postulated that he wanders a plane for which there is no language to conceptualize. Some brave clerics of Athra have spent their entire careers trying to unravel this fundamental cosmic mystery, and many have gone mad in the process.

Little is known about the Fiendlorn's early life, save that he exhibited a natural ability with the arcane arts and was educated by the finest spellmasters. It is speculated that his father was a mason who fell on hard times and sold his son to a temple of spellmasters for money to keep the rest of the family afloat; while there is little hard evidence to substantiate this claim (or any other claim about the Fiendlorn's life), in ages long past poor families did occasionally sell promising children to be trained as scribes and clerks, and it is well known that the Fiendlorn displayed uncommon intelligence from an early age. Everything he did, he did well, and he was gifted with exceptional physical strength in addition to his keen mind. He was particularly interested in the mechanics of complex systems. Watches, manufactures, games--anything that required an expert knowledge to operate or understand drew his interest. In particular, the child was drawn to the game of Chess.

He was also, however, utterly without empathy. While many children flee from bloodshed and a few unfortunate others are instinctively cruel, he seems to have been coldblooded from the beginning; he saw nothing wrong with dissecting small animals alive to see how their bodies worked, and likewise saw no reason not to extend his studies to the beggars and street children. Though his superiors tried to bar him from this practice, he regarded their prohibitions as weak-minded and continued it in secret, until he was caught and expelled from the arcane temple. His expulsion came too late, however. In possession of rudimentary knowledge of necromancy and being deprived of the vast collections of the spellmaster library, the Fiendlorn turned to a more readily available source of knowledge: bargaining with demons.

In some respects he was an ideal summoner from the demons' perspective: he had no scruples and no limits, and there was little he could not achieve once he set his mind to a task. In others, he was impossible: he was extraordinarily patient, possessed of an iron will, and had no vices that could easily be exploited. Untouched by lust, uninterested in dominion over others, and weakened by neither mercy nor sadism, he was utterly incorruptible beyond the limits he had already set. He gave countless others' souls to Fell, but never bargained with his own. Yet his victory could be counted a hollow one by most measures, and may well have been the most profound corruption in itself. In committing so many sins with clear eyes, the Fiendlorn forsook his humanity and became a part of the system himself. All he accomplished with his steadfast will was to keep his soul in his own clutches, rather than handing it to another. By the end he had forgotten how to deal with humans. The gentler subtleties of human emotion were lost to him, and all he saw in the world was malice, ambition, and savagery, and he dealt with it accordingly--by attempting to control it.

The Grand Construct and the Fiendlorn's Fall

In his attempt to bring order and control to an unpredictable world, the Fiendlorn began bargaining for souls on a grand scale. As his power increased, so too did his audacity. Through his preternatural ability to understand systems, the Fiendlorn discovered a flaw in the demons' logic which allowed him to leverage the souls of commoners and others for those of kings, heroes, and even spellmasters. After many decades of such trickery, he had amassed a collection of souls with such raw spiritual energy that it rivaled even the most feared armies of the demonic planes. For many decades, the Fiendlorn withdrew from the world. He ceased his bargaining with the demons. Slowly, generations began to let this phantom memory slip from the collective memory.

When he emerged from contemplation, the Fiendlorn began summoning spellmasters and practitioners of the arcane arts to his tower. Where--or when--this tower resides was a mystery even at the time. What little record that remains of this conclave of spellmasters summoned by the Fiendlorn has been subject to intense scrutiny by clerics of Athra for centuries, and is often prone to manipulation and mistranslation. It is commonly agreed that the conclave was convened for the purpose of unveiling the Grand Construct, which the Fiendlorn proposed as a way to forever banish disorder and chaos from the mortal realm. At this conclave, he used a game common to many of his educated contemporaries: Chess. As he spoke, using the board as a metaphor for the continent, he demonstrated the complex relationships and rules which governed the pieces. He did not propose to eliminate all pain and suffering, for such concepts were required in order to maintain the complexity of the Grand Construct, as he called it.

There was great appeal in this ordered and technocratic approach to many spellmasters, and fully one third of those present at the conclave pledged their service in exchange being given a hand in it's creation. The majority of spellmasters, however, were appalled. Some even accused the Fiendlorn of reaching for divinity himself. In reply, the Fiendlorn uttered the only words that can be reliably ascribed to him: "there are no gods but those we create." This heresy was denounced by those in the conclave who had not pledged their service. While they outnumbered the Third (as they came to be known) who stood with the Fiendlorn, they were no match for his ability or newly-consolidated power. Banished from his tower, they returned to the mortal realm united in fear for what was to come.

But what of the souls the Fiendlorn had bargained so craftily for with the demons? In explaining the Grand Construct, he neglected to mention the source of the unfathomable spiritual energy required to build the construct. This secret he kept carefully hidden from his followers while they labored over the right spells and rituals to turn his creation into reality. Believing themselves to be on the side of progress and uniquely favored by the spirits, they became increasingly fanatical in their work and even their worship of the Fiendlorn.

Historians and clerics of Athra discuss the emergence of the Grand Construct as a sudden event, but modern scholars believe this to be a simplification for the purposes of education. The various kings, spellmasters, warlords, and prophets that were the manifestations of the Grand Construct entered the world slowly, so as not to upset the delicate natural order of the world before supplanting it entirely. In time, all the pieces were in place. The time for the activation of the Grand Construct had come.

Marveling at his own magnificence and surrounded by swollen and fanatical ranks of admiring spellmasters, the Fiendlorn set his creation in motion. Here was the purest expression of order over chaos, of control over anarchy. In conjuring this apparatus for their benefit, the Fiendlorn had to find a suitable role for humanity. Utterly lacking in empathy and believing himself to be as far beyond the Kings as they were beyond the Pawns, he committed the only mistake (although unbeknownst to him at the time) of his career: he introduced an imperfect specimen into a perfect creation. For centuries, humanity dutifully fulfilled it's role as a pawn in the cosmic game. Order was established. Those few humans which excelled in the execution of their liege's orders were rewarded by entering the Construct at a later date in some glorified form. In time, this gave birth to a common understanding of deities, afterlife, and purpose.

Over time, however, his perfect creations: Adhaghar, Faol, and the like, began to be corrupted simply by their interaction with the imperfection of humanity. Disorder began to emerge. Some enterprising gods and goddesses began to imagine an "endgame" where they would be victorious. Perhaps, they mused, they might even rival the Fiendlorn himself in glory. Seeing this as a threat to centuries of the Fiendlorn's work and driven into a panic, the spellmasters who dutiful served him devised a solution worthy of their master: by becoming the very board upon which his game was played, the Fiendlorn could exert his indomitable will over his creations and bring lasting order to the Construct. Having ignored his humanity for so long, the Fiendlorn was overcome by the emotions--terror, fear, doubt, anger--that now flooded his eternal mind. Not trusting his servants to do anything other than blindly follow orders, the Fiendlorn summoned the unfathomable energy required to make such a fundamental change to his creation by sacrificing them all in one grand ritual, allowing him to leave his tower and infusing his essence into the world.

There are two schools of thought at the deepest levels of Athra about what became of the Fiendlorn and what effect his actions had. Some say that removed from the safety of his tower, the Fiendlorn was unable to fully exert his will upon his creations, and that he will refuse to stop trying until, over eons of time, he is driven mad and lost in the forgotten realms. When this occurs, the "endgame" will inevitably arrive and humanity will be instrumental in determining the winners. What exactly anyone will win is a mystery. Still others (a minority, to be sure) secretly revere the Fiendlorn for his fearlessness, his absolute incorruptibility, and his power over chaos and death. They see his sacrifice as the ultimate act of selflessness and a guarantee (and implicit threat) that the continuation of his Construct is to be ensured... whatever the cost.

Purpose and Afterlife

Why are we here? It's the most common question of humanity, but it has arguably the most answers. Complicating the issue, many of those responses are fundamentally incompatible with each other. Through the metaphor of Chess, Athra teaches that our purpose is what we make it. It is in humanity's nature to bargain, cajole, and curry favor to advance the interests of ourselves and those like us. Why should it be any different with the gods?

But what does a lifetime of bargaining and exchange between mortals and the gods get us? Here, Athra's answer is truly unique. In his cunning, the Fiendlorn expended unfathomable spiritual energy binding the god Fell to his most solemn task: weighing and valuating the souls of mortals according to their deeds. Over a lifetime, humans accumulate the favor or displeasure of gods and goddesses. The gods covet this patronage, as it provides them with the only real currency in the immortal plane: souls. When a loved one departs this world, Fell audits the lifetime of deeds and actions made by that individual. This audit is shared before the Hallowed Auction, allowing all gods and goddesses to examine the relative worth of that soul. Let's use the previous example of a wealthy merchant who curried favor with Cerog and Fiore to explain.

Our merchant suffered an unfortunate accident at the site of his latest enterprise: a flour mill. Spirited away by Fell to the auction grounds, a detailed audit of his deeds is performed. What would a god or goddess be looking for in this audit? For Cerog, he is likely very interested in the man's enterprising nature, industrious temperament, and his commitment to building structures designed to last generations. To Cerog, he is a soul without equal. But what of Fiore, goddess of perfection and beauty? Certainly, the merchant produced works of civic art. His playhouses were legendary for their architectural touches. His home was widely regarded as rivaling the estates of kings. He acquired immense wealth, and became a cherished patron of the arts in his later years. To Fiore, this is a soul with an eye toward quality and a willingness to work very hard to achieve it. In her service he could be a powerful and disciplined agent, his otherwise selfless desire to spread beauty throughout the world corrupted into a malevolent presence hostile to imperfection wherever it may be found.

The auction commences. Cerog has long made it a habit to bid wisely, and so has considerable sums of spiritual energy in reserve for this prized soul. Fiore, having attracted souls willing to pursue any goal or spend any sum for perfection likewise has a sizable treasury. As the auction drags on, the two gods are locked in a bidding war for an asset that both clearly desire. The price climbs ever-higher before Fiore, realizing that she views our merchant less as a faithful disciple and more as weapon, relents. The merchant's soul—much to it's own relief—goes to Cerog. His reward is either incorporation into the very being of Cerog or, should he desire, reincarnation as one of the god's most favored instruments.

Cerog gladly pays the considerable sum to Fell, who then reintroduces this spiritual energy into the Bank of Souls he and his own sizable followers maintain. This process, complex though it may be, maintains the delicate order of the Grand Construct and places humanity squarely at the center of a war over it's own future.

Pantheon

Adaghar

Lawgiver, Lord of Kings

Scrupulous and proud, Adaghar is a god of firm justice and austere morals. The god of kings, generals, and enterprising dukes with a taste for power, he is a god of rulers--not the ruled. Adaghar is militant in the defense of law and order; his most favored knights are legendary for their ascetic discipline and for possessing an air of supremacy bordering on contempt. His priests are often drawn from the courtly ranks, as their extensive knowledge and understanding of law makes them formidable clerics.

• Colors: Gold, white
• Symbols: A crown set with a jewel resembling an all-seeing eye
• Analogy: King

Faol

The Iron Fist, Lord of War

In the view of his followers, strength is the only thing worthy of Faol's respect. War is the crucible in which true power is forged--the bloodier, the better. Fighting (and killing) in his name are considered forms of prayer by some of Faol's more enthusiastic adherents. And since the losers have shown themselves to be unworthy of the Iron Crown, they are shown no mercy. A particularly interesting aspect of Faol's personality is that he occasionally encourages warring between his own followers. Such ritualized combat winnows out the weak and unworthy while maintaining the skills of the favored. The simplistic and visceral appeal of Faol is evident to all--even those devoted to peace.

• Colors: Red, silver
• Symbols: An iron crown
• Analogy: King

Rhia

Lady of Light, Blade of Dawn

Rhia is at once a strict and merciful deity. There are two sects devoted to Rhia, reflecting the dual nature of the sun as the provider of life and a scourging flame. As the warm light of learning, she dispels the fog of ignorance. This aspect of Rhia draws many Courtiers, Judges, healers, and others into her service who work to enrich the lives of others. Warriors are equally drawn to the goddess as a symbol of righteous and purifying light which strikes out at the evil of darkness. Warriors devoted to Rhia are noted for their ferocity in fighting monsters and the undead, which hide in the shadows of darkness. This specific enmity for such creatures suggests a holy duty for Rhia's followers to pursue and destroy such creatures.

• Colors: Yellow, white, and gold
• Symbols: A golden disc, or a radiant sun
• Analogy: Queen

Fiore

Maiden of Ice, The Pale Lady

As the patroness of perfection and beauty, Fiore rivals even Adaghar in self-regard. Fiore is the embodiment of perfect aesthetic, encouraging her followers to spare no expense in the pursuit if perfection. Those sympathetic to the Pale Lady may often be found in the most exclusive and wealthy circles of society. The massive amounts of wealth required to sustain such perfection has made Fiore a popular patRegarded as hopelessly vain by some, followers of Fiore occasionally have a darker side. Such pursuit of perfection often leads to an astonishingly visceral disdain for those who fail to "measure up". At their worst, Fiore's disciples have no problem removing the flawed, ugly, or otherwise unworthy from the world.

• Colors: Ivory
• Symbols: An ivory dagger, or a flawless ivory mask
• Analogy: Queen

Clervorn

Star-bound, Dreamwalker

Little is known of Clervorn, the patron of mystics, clerics, and arts unknown. His temples are remote, unadorned, and sacred places. Of all the deities, Clervorn is the most aloof and distant and even among his followers, some claim to have lived their entire lives without direct contact. The one thing few dispute, however, is his absolute authority over his domains, namely: twilight, dreams, and other mysterious aspects of the night. This aloofness has led many to assume that Clervorn is ambivalent in nature. His adherents know this to be false: after all, did man not slumber under a blanket of stars before time? Followers claim that the secretive god prefers to communicate in allusions and dreams, rarely giving explicit orders. This close association with mystics and magic has made Clervorn the undisputed patron of Sages.

• Colors: Blue, silver
• Symbols: A cluster of five stars, or a crescent moon
• Analogy: Bishop

Veren

Betrayer, Walker in Shadows

Veren is the patron of the unscrupulous, the vengeful, intriguers and infiltrators. His patience is legendary, with schemes hatched at the dawn of time that are still unfolding today. As such, Veren has a considerable following among the followers of other gods. Infiltrators in particular are drawn to Veren, and he to them. Intelligence, cunning, and ruthless precision are virtues prized above all else. This affinity for intrigue has made him the unofficial patron of more than a few conspirators.

• Colors: Black, silver
• Symbols: None. None whatsoever. Move along.
• Analogy: Bishop

Omaron

Lord of the Mount, Keeper of the Great Hall

Omaron represents belief and religion in its most uncomplicated form. His followers adhere to an individualist moral code, sharing a few basic tenets. These include a respect for prowess in battle and honor in the most straightforward sense. It would be cowardly, for example, to attack from ambush or to fight a weaker foe. It is not surprising, then, that Omaron is frequently the patron of Heroes, Cavaliers, and other fierce and honorable types. Tests of strength often substitute for written laws, but respect (and quarter) is to be given to those who display bravery. Another idiosyncrasy of Omaron's followers is the widespread belief that sporadic looting and skirmishing are both acceptable and honorable. It is excessive looting and occupation which are deemed to be cardinal sins, punishable by death. Those who die in the "service" of Omaron look forward to eternity in his great hall, where merriment and drinking are never in short supply.

• Colors: White, grey
• Symbols: An eagle with spread wings, or a warhammer
• Analogy: Knight

Taur

Caller of the Wild Hunt, The Moonmad

Symbolized by the red moon, Taur represents the wild, frenzied and savage aspect of battle. Heroes and warriors with an unrestrained passion for violence have been known to summon his aide. Under the light of the red moon, the world seems bruised and bloodied; shadows loom threatening, and pristine surfaces are stained with ghostly crimson. The dark bloodlust of battle and unpredictable violence are Taur's domain. In remote parts of the world, it is believed that berserkers are touched by Taur and are similarly affected by the red moon's waxing.

Although Taur is associated with chaotic and uncontrollable violence, it is important to note that no malice is attributed to the god. His rages are seen as a force of nature, terrible but unavoidable, which may be regretted afterwards but which cannot be blamed as intentional. Some of those who are believed to be afflicted by Taur even enter the service of the god, hoping to learn how to tame their own rages and help others who suffer from the same unpredictable furies.

• Colors: Red, white
• Symbols: A blood red moon
• Analogy: Knight

Cerog

The Banker's Banker, Forgemaster

A practical and unpretentious god, Cerog is worshiped primarily by Bankers, lesser region lords, and anyone with an eye toward commerce. Although he is most often represented as a blacksmith, Cerog's domain extends to cover all the artisan's trades. Wherever things are built and sold, there will be someone who invokes Cerog's blessing over the work (and frequently over the deal). Unconcerned with the doings of the other gods, Cerog dislikes crusades and holy wars because they destroy more than they build. His priests are expected to spend more time industriously practicing some useful trade than reading their prayerbooks.

Temples to Cerog can be found in any settlement from small hamlets to sprawling cities, but they are never particularly grand or imposing. The temples, like the god himself, are plain and efficient, with no time wasted on the fripperies that other deities seem to prize so highly, and they often double as smithies, exchanges, or workshops.

• Colors: Steel Grey, gold
• Symbols: A golden anvil
• Analogy: Rook

Ceron

Lady of the Harvest, Mother of Farm and Field

Revered equally by Bankers and farmers across countless lands, Ceron is the gentle goddess of harvest who looks after the wellbeing of man, beast and plant alike. She is frequently invoked by hopeful parents and midwives, as her influence extends to fertility in all its forms. Midsummer's Night is traditionally a time for rural celebrations in Ceron's honor, as are the first and last days of autumn harvest.

Ceron's clergy tend to be agrarians and others accustomed to a simple life. Her devotion among Bankers owes largely to her monumental popularity in rural regions, and her absolute domain over the harvest. Her priests are usually extreme pacifists, but it is not unknown for them to take up arms when necessary in the defense of the weak and hungry.

• Colors: Green and gold
• Symbols: A green oak wreath, or a sheaf of ripe wheat
• Analogy: Rook

Arzal

Lord of the Crumbling Castle

Senseless destruction and corruption seem to be the primary characteristics of Arzal. He is shunned even by the other "evil" deities, who view him as a dangerous madman. Faol in particular scorns Arzal as the keeper of a riotous and undisciplined rabble waiting to be destroyed by a better-organized force. Both perceptions are accurate, and yet Arzal continues to attract those willing to pay any price—-any price at all-—for the promise of power.

Arzal corrodes the souls pressed into his service, and they in turn spread the taint outward, poisoning everything they touch. How such an apparently unstable god is able to marshal the vast sums of money required to outbid other gods in The Auction of Souls is a mystery. Sometimes he gifts his servants with power, sometimes he reduces them to wretched ruin. Yet even the most miserably deceived of Maol's servants becomes an agent of festering evil, lashing out in self-destructive hatred at those more fortunate. The god does not have to reward his followers to incite them to acts of mindless carnage.

• Colors: Black, bone
• Symbols: A ruined keep, or a grinning devil's face worked in obsidian
• Analogy: Rook

Fell

Judge of the Dead, The Auctioneer

Fell is the grim judge of dead souls, weighing their various deeds and intentions on his scales and assigning a value to each soul before placing them on the market. Although he is not an evil god, his close association with death has created a common misperception that Fell is not only a judge of souls but a harvester. In fact, the clergy of Fell (such as it is) is one of the most active in hunting down and destroying undead. The undead are seen as an abomination by Fell, for in such a state souls remain imprisoned in their mortal bodies instead of allowing them to be valued, auctioned. and sent to the afterlife as they should be.

Fell has no real formal clergy, but his special function as the sole arbiter of the market value of souls places him in a relatively unimpeachable position of power. If Fell ceased to perform his roles, there would be no constant source of souls for other gods to bid upon. Among humanity, almost every prayer contains an unspoken plea to Fell that one's deeds and actions--good, or evil--are given full consideration and value.

• Colors: Grey
• Symbols: A set of scales, a gavel
• Analogy: Rook

Pawns

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