Torus Renatus/The Dictum of the Slain

The Dictum of the Slain

Of the Horse Lords

In Ancient Days, a Golden Rider looked upon the suffering of his people, and he sayeth to them "No more. With Sword and Shield and Fire, we shall drive out the enemy of man." Messengers went forth to all corners of the Kingdom, from Old Darfix to the Mountains, and they returned with riders. His people assembled, the Golden Rider lead his people across the steppes and purged his kingdom with Sword and Fire. His lands were awash with the blood of the Monster, and riddled with the bones of the Undead. For long months the Golden Rider and his men sought to secure their lands, so that man might live in peace.

One dark eve, the mighty host was riding to purge the last stronghold of beasts, the Corridor of Torment, and the Golden Rider looked up to see two bright red stars upon him, and he smiled. His men asked him what had pleased him so, and the Rider responded "My Brother the Marshal and my sister the Martyr are waiting for me." and said no more. The great host of man came upon the final horde of the beastlings, and gave battle. Many on both sides were slain, and the Golden Rider himself fell in the dawn that followed. That evening, through their tears, his people saw that a third red star had joined the Marshal and the Matyr upon their celestial throne. They carried the Golden Rider back home, to Darfix, and interred him in a Temple of Silver, and for many long years the people of Darfix knew not the suffering caused by Monster and Lich. After their King was buried, three men came to Darfix, leading a steed of gold. The Horse had been born the eve following the Golden Rider's final battle, and in the months following, during the building of the Temple, the horse had rapidly grown and matured. Men and women came from afar to bring gifts to the noble steed, for it was the King, born again, arisen once more to serve his people and to carry them swiftly to battle, as he had in his first life.

Of the Gods

The Nature of Dagon, Transcribed

In the days of yor, when the seas grew wroth, they would rise and swallow continents whole, and mankind wept for their were powerless against the colossal tides. Tor heard the cries of his people, and his blood boiled. Great Tor descended from the heavens and waded into the sea. It was there he and the great God of the seas, Dagon, clashed. The battle raged, and storms rose up to escape the fury of the Gods. When it was over, Tor was victor, and Dagon pledged to curb his tides. Dagon is a wicked beast however, and the great storms that sailors fear are his wrath. It is said that hanging sprigs of mistletoe from the mast of a ship will appease Wicked Dagon.

A young acolyte once asked of the Pale Mother. He was scourged for speaking her dread name, and come morning, his body was found in his humble cell, skinned. It is said that those who speak of the Pale Mother aloud are doomed to meet a similar fate, their skins serving the Mother of Daimons as tormented wraiths. All other writings of her have been burned, and beyond this cautionary tale, she is not to be mentioned.

Autumn brings to harvests and grand festivals to the minds of many, and it is a season of joy. It is also the name of a lesser known Goddess responsible for these harvests. It is her cooling touch that keeps the crops from being scorched by the hot summer sun, and her embrace that holds winter off long enough for her people to bring in the harvest. Every harvest festival is a mass dedicated to her, every cup of ale raised a prayer to her.