Pantheon of Rathe

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Alyvyan: Kath, the Kind Wife & Thosthen, the Strong Husband

Kath, the kind wife, and Thosthen, the strong husband, are survivors of the ancient Teuta. Both became priests of Aluvyan at a young age, and made their names known throughout their communities. Legend has it that at a festival marking the favored month of Aluvyan, the two met each other when a bonfire collapsed upon them. Trapped under a canopy of burning timber, the village thought them dead, yet a beacon of light shone down through the clouds upon the bonfire, and the fire immediately extinguished. The wood creaked, fell to the side, and Thosthen and Kath walked out, arm in arm. Upon each of their heads were wedding wreathes of still flaming twigs. From that day forth, they were inseparable. They survived the Sundering, and rebuilt their community upon the ruined remains of Rathe. They bore more than 20 children during this time and created a thriving church community.

Furthermore, according to the myth, they died arm in arm at the exact same time, and were buried in the same coffin, for no one felt right separating them from each other. Their children became the founders of the Great Church of Aluvyan, the first major post-Destruction church in Alvyan’s name. This church still exists today, and many of the clergy claim to be distantly related to one another. In the church’s archives exist massive genealogy charts dating back, with some gaps, thousands of years, reportedly all the way back to Kath and Thosthen themselves.

Meroc: Revistus, the sower, and Sirmio, the plowman

Revistus, the sower, and Sirmio the plowman, were once a pair of brothers who toiled the earth in the age of the Teuta, following the inflictions of the second circle of gods, but before the great Sundering. During this time, they were such devotees to their lands, and such dedicated workers, that they were chosen by Meroc as the carriers of the fields during the Sundering. They were each given a dream of the impending destruction, and together set about building a massive wooden vessel, in the shape of a large acorn. When completed, the Seed was filled with grains of all the crops that living things needed to survive, and also all the animals that the Teuta needed for productive lives. Then, Revistus and Sirmio sealed themselves, their crops, and their animals within the seed. No air or water could penetrate the Seed’s shell, and only the plants inside created enough air to sustain Revistus, Sirmio, and their animals. In the center of the Seed stood a vast magical torch, providing light for the occupants within, and it was there they lived for years as the fighting between the Teuta and the gods raged outside. Finally, the world of Dhur-Diewos was sundered, and the Seed was vaulted high into the air. As the world shattered, the now-mortal Teuta struggled to survive. So many crops and animals were killed in the destruction, and so many Teuta misused their unfamiliar hunger, that civilization finished collapsing around them. The Seed eventually began to fall back towards the ground, but all was not well inside the Seed. The magic torch was beginning to fade, for the Sundering took much longer than expected; soon all within the wooden walls would die before the Seed could reach the ground again. The brothers, knowing this, approached the torch, and threw themselves upon it. Their blessed bodies fueled the torch just long enough for the Seed to crash back down to Rathe, providing it once more with healthy plants and animals. With the boon of plants and animals, the downward spiral of life on Rathe ceased, and flora and fauna began once more to thrive.

Worshipers of the brothers are rarely well organized, but are incredibly widespread. A simple pair of shrines, one to each brother, can be found in almost every farming community. There is usually only one attendant for each shrine, both of whom often perform simple duties in the community on the side. These attendants often act as crop and herd appraisers; thus, staying loyal to the shrine has many financial benefits, too.

Aumier: Wajo, the amputee, and Pullos, the Medic

Many years ago, Wajo was forced to take up arms when his country fell into civil war. This simple butcher became a soldier, and after many bloody battles, his tour of duty ended and he returned home. However, he found that he could not go back to his life as a butcher, and he took to the temples to pray. He went from temple to temple, seeking solace. A temple to Aumier finally took him in, and it was there he found his problems laid bare before him. He could no longer be a butcher, for he had seen the terrible things that befoul the world. His mind would not let him rest until these evils had been redressed, and so Wajo joined with a company of fellow Aumierian Priests, and sought out beings of great evil across the land.

In the later years of this crusading, in one particularly savage battle against a terrible demon, Wajo and his companions were plagued by it’s possessor spirit. One by one, the holy priests perished at the hands of one another, until only Wajo remained. As he lost more and more control to the possessor demon, Wajo mustered all his remaining power and drove the demon from his mind. Yet even with this mastery of conscious, Wajo could not drive the demon completely out, for the beast still retained possession of Wajo’s left arm. As the possessed are slowly choked the life from Wajo’s body, Wajo took what strength he had left, drew from his belt his only remaining blade – his butcher’s knife – and he painfully severed the murderous limb from his body at the shoulder. With the demon driven from his body, and trapped within his severed arm, Wajo collapsed into unconsciousness, weak from blood loss.

When Wajo awoke, he saw the Image of Aumier floating before him: Pullos. By mere gaze, Wajo’s wounds were seared closed, and through Pullos, Wajo received his divine blessing. For the rest of his mortal life, Wajo never again crusaded, for his the remainder of his arm, seared at the stump, drew to him a small army of Aumerian followers. These loyalists became known as the infamous Clerics of Wajo.

All sorts of possessors were brought to Wajo in his final years as a mortal, and during these years he mete out their punishments accordingly. Legend has it that on one fall day, when the leaves were freshly fallen from the oak trees, that a particularly strong possessor spirit was brought to Wajo. It was then, it is said, Wajo’s follower’s experienced a miracle. In driving the spirit from its host, Wajo was forced to the brink of his strength, and all were powerless to aid him in this final battle. Yet, just as all seemed lost, the visage of Wajo’s left arm became visible to those witnessing the exorcism. It was with this arm that Wajo reached out, through mortal flesh and bone, to grab the demon hidden deep within the host, and it was with this arm that Wajo tore the demon from within to without, and it was there his followers saw Wajo crush the demon within his glowing grip.

To this day, a small cult of Wajo continues to ritually remove their left arms. Some wear it as a badge of pride, while others are rumored to receive special blessings in return. Clerics of Wajo are expectedly fanatical, and quite intimidating when they belong to the Cult of Wajo, but they are very useful to the towns they visit. Often, however, the religious fervor of the Cult has led to the popular saying, “A one armed priest is a great guest, but lousy neighbor”.


Nonhag- the solitary: Han, the hermit, the despoiler

A great time ago, Han was nothing more than a quiet villager known by another name entirely. However, this was to change when he fell madly in love with a young woman named Ingrid, who in turn returned his affections. For days and nights he pinned away for her attention, however, her father was an evil and powerful man. He made it quite apparent that he did not approve of a poor man such as Han to have desires for his daughter. With this rebuking, Han vowed to Ingrid that he would grow rich and powerful, so that they could be wed, and Ingrid vowed to wait for that day.

Han first found work as a carpenter, and began earning money as an apprentice. However, his master was a miserly old alcoholic that would never let Han become a journeyman. To this, Han thought long and hard as to how he could advance and become the master carpenter he so desired, but he was unable to find any means so long as his master stood in his way. One evening, in the workshop, Han was heatedly arguing with his master, when suddenly the drunken fool attempted to lay Han out with a nearby hammer. Dodging the blow, Han grabbed the old man, pulled him, stumbling, towards the workshop‘s raging fireplace. Han hesitated only a moment before he doused the drunkard with his own alcohol and shoved him into the bellowing flames. Han quickly cleaned the room of his evidence, and then fled the scene. In the morning some of Han’s fellow apprentices found the master’s charred skeleton. It was deemed an accident, and Han was never suspected of involvement.

During the next summer, Han gathered a good number of his fellow craftsmen, and declared himself master carpenter, and he made good money in the process. By now, Han was a budding entrepreneur, and he felt that he was almost ready to appeal to Ingrid’s father. However, in the wake of Han’s predecessor, there was another master carpenter who came to town, creating a great deal of competition for Han. One night, Han went to talk to the carpenter, to force him to leave town. The discussion became heated, and in a fit of rage, Han grabbed a hold of the larger man, shoving him to the ground. Looking around, Han spotted a massive dresser nearby, and he tipped it forward upon the other carpenter. As the man lay there gasping for air, Han calmly watched the trapped carpenter suffocate in the middle of his own bedchambers. Again he quickly cleaned up the scene of the crime, and left hurriedly. In the morning, the body of the carpenter was found by some of his close friends, and his death was labeled a tragic accident.

As the only carpenter within town, Han became quite wealthy, and he finally approached Ingrid’s father, this time as a successful businessman. However, Ingrid’s father refused him still. Han left bitter and resentful. For two days Han dwelt on this slight, and during the frigid night of the second day, Han came back cold and with murderous intent. Han successfully framed his vile deed upon the serving maid Ingrid’s father had been abusing, and with the wretched father out of the way, Han was now free to marry Ingrid.

Han and Ingrid made all the preparations for their engagement, and one year later, they were wed. That night, during their honeymoon, Han and Ingrid sat together, talking until the late hours of the night. Han, rather drunk at this time, became foolish, and boastful. He let slip what had happened to his original master. Ingrid, afraid, continued to encourage Han’s drinking. A short while later, at her careful prodding, Han revealed the true fate of his competitor, and soon after that Han, heavily inebriated, even began to brag about the death of Ingrid’s father and his cover-up involving the serving maid, who had been hung for her alleged crimes.

Ingrid, distraught, ran off, and Han followed shortly after. When Han found Ingrid, she was packing a truck full of clothes, readying herself to leave Han. Han, deranged with hysteria, strangled her right there on the spot. This murder, however, was neither quiet, nor cleanly done. A watchman that Han himself had hired, had heard the dispute, and came to investigate. When the man saw Ingrid’s dead body, Han beat the man to death. In his room, standing over their bodies, Han seethed in hatred and despair. Cold dark waves of shadows soon overcame Han, and he was baptized by the evil of his crimes.

When Han left his home that night, everyone the enshrouded Han came upon died in terrible ways, many at a mere glance from his darkened eyes. Even those who caught but a fleeting glimpse of Han felt terrible pains from within their skulls. Those who survived his wrath that night described him as surrounded by a thin, dark miasma, that that none who approached him and lived. His rampage, they said, was even worse. He had traveled throughout the town, kicking down random doors, storming into bedrooms, and in his wake leaving writhing bodies that did not live for long. By the end of it, some said, they could hear his laughter from far away, almost as if he reveled in his rampage. By morning, he was gone, and few were left alive.

Legend says, that to this day Han still wanders his old countryside, unseen. Mysterious deaths occur from time to time, and such deaths are attributed to the nearby presence of Han. His followers, the Wanderers, live solitary lives in Han’s image, and never form churches of any kind. They never gather, and it is a mystery to the uninitiated as to how one learns the way of Han. It is rumored that Han will leave books or scrolls throughout his wanderings to those he deems worthy. These documents contain the mad ramblings of the Wanderers, and those who head their words begin down the terrible and lonely path, or so the rumors say. A curse in many lands has become, “May you meet a Wanderer”

Edomith, the poet: Tectosages, the inspired

Tectosagas, the inspired, is an incredibly old Avatar, who is most often depicted as a sleeping young woman. When she was new to the world, Tectosagas was already a brilliant poet and artist. She would sit in the middle of any crowded city by the public fountains, with a pen a scroll thick with parchment. She spent these days creating anything a passerby wished for. Should a man ask for a song, Tectosagas would scratch out the bars to a beautiful ballad. Should a lady wonder by with a sad countenance, she would draw her a beautiful portrait. Her reputation spread as the most gifted artist to ever grace the world since the times of the ancients.

In one particular city, by the name of Monne, however, the magistrate grew envious of Tectosagas’ skills. He attempted to buy exclusive rights to her talents, but Tectosagas turned down any mention of payment. It is from the events between Tectosagas and the magistrate’s men that several phrases are now ascribed to Tectosagas. Because she denied him her talents as an artist, his men broke her hands and crusher her fingers, and Tectosagas said, through the pain, “although my hands have been crippled, my arts will always be free.” With this fearless defiance, the magistrates’ men beat her around her head and neck until Tectosagas could barely breath. She weakly spoke once more, “my gifts can never be silenced.” Again, the magistrate’s men became enraged, and she was beaten unconscious. It was during this unrest that the clever god Edomith visited Tectosagas, and she was found worthy of his grace.

When Tectosagas awoke, she crawled out of the inn where she had met the magistrate, and she passed out once more at the foot of the fountain she so often frequented. In the morning, the city’s citizens found Tectosagas, barely alive. The people speculated how she could have come to this state, and how she could continue her trade damaged so dearly. One man, who had always admired Tectosagas, began to tend to her broken body. As he stood over her, he suddenly stopped what he was doing, bent down and retrieved Tectosagas’ abandoned quill and parchment, and the crowd grew silent. This man, a potter, had never held a pen before in his life, began to draw upon the paper. For a full fifteen minutes he drew in total silence, and when he finished, he let the parchment drop to the ground, astonished by his own work. There, upon the parchment was a beautiful drawing of some place none had ever seen before, least of all the man who drew it.

Shortly after the man completed his artwork, Tectosagas regained consciousness, and hobbled slowly to the potter’s home, where she rested for the remainder of the day. For years after this event, Tectosagas would come by the fountain, laid down upon the cool stone, and fall asleep. During these years, random citizens and passersby would never disturb her for artwork again. Rather, they would stop what they were doing, and craft something beautiful of their own. Slowly, a following of inspired artists built around what became known as the Fountain of Tectosagas. Finally, after 15 years, Tectosagas left the city she had transformed. The magistrate who had injured her so cruelly had long been driven out from the city, and clerics had been summoned throughout the lands to look after her wounds. When she left this city, she was fully healed.

If mythology is correct, Tectosagas lives this day with her compatriot, Calvus, in a glass observatory atop a magnificent tower. From there, Tectosagas paints an ever evolving mural of the many lands of Rathe, and beyond. Tectosagans are a delightful, if eccentric, bunch. They are quite the life of any party, and relish crafting wonderful works of art. However, they often become distracted by moments of insight. Some particularly devout Tectosagans believe that the moment they die, the embodiment of their knowledge and talents are painted by Tectosagas upon her massive mural, where she seeks out a new worthy vessel for such talents. This sometimes leaves Tectosagans seeming to be fearless, and also disinterested, in the general world. Yet, when a Tectosagan travels out into the world, away from the enclaves of fellow artists and craftsmen, it is because they seek to experience all the world at large has to offer, for inspiration and to further the perfection of their arts.

Edomith, the poet: Calvus, the historian

Calvus- the historian- a man who has texts on almost everything. Almost. In his great library, there are millions of hand-scribed texts detailing histories and fictions. Everything that his young (relatively) friend Tectosages creates is carefully filed along with everything else that is ever written. The library is so large, that no one, except perhaps Calvus himself, knows where everything is, and he is far too preoccupied to help people around. Although one could in theory find old texts describing ancient rituals and inventions of incredible power, they would be almost indistinguishable from the fictional ramblings of senile hacks. Calvus stores all that is written, not all that is written well. One of the things most commonly debated among Calvunists is the history of Calvus himself. There is ancient written documentation describing Calvus as everything from a retired warrior to a deranged king. Another set of texts describe Calvus as something which was just THERE, a universal constant which has existed all time to record all time. It is true that there are a great many tomes in the Great Library, which are written in languages that no one else on Rathe has seen before. Calvunists are very rarely found outside of the Great Library, or the several Supplementary Libraries. On a regular basis, the Supplementary Libraries will transport their collections to the ever-expanding Great Library, so that the Supplementary Libraries rarely have anything of great age or value. The local Supplementary Master do retain their own private collections, though, where some particularly powerful old tomes can be found. Some Calvunists make small journeys to collect new texts written by private authors, or to witness unfolding events firsthand. Some Calvunists are quiet, some are chatterboxes, but all have a reverent respect for the written word.

Urmb: Wilven, the Gatekeeper, and Anaxera, the Retriever

The addresser: some old crony, sitting in an ancient study light by candles and bent nearly double over a dust-scattered oak desk. He seems to be writing something in a vast tome that covers nearly the desk’s entire surface.

"These two, Wilven and Anaxera, were not always called Gatekeeper and Retriever. Long ago, before they were Avatars, they began their worship to Urmb, long ago, during the ages that were golden to our kind. Back then they were nothing more than our ancients, strong in power and wise in kind. They began their worship as astronomers of the heavens and seers of the stars. Together, Wilven and Anaxera built to Urmb a vast observatory, with all manners of wonders we have long since lost - knowledge known to them alone. There they improved upon their studies and spent hourless days in devotion to their lord, Urmb, the Sunless One. From their long devotion, Urmb observed their character and spirits; as Wilven and Anaxera looked to the heavens, Urmb looked back upon them and weighed their souls, and he found them worthy. One night, as Wilven and Anaxera observed the night-time sky, Urmb came upon the two and revealed those things which such a god reveals to those more worthy than us that live today.

What happened next, none of us know, except that what is said to have occurred is this: the following day Wilven and Anaxera began to expand their massive observatory, delving deep beneath the ground. Some claim that they built for a full decade before they finished their task, given to them by the Deathless One himself, but I believe it was a full hundred years before they emerged again from their observatory. By then, the Gods Nine were loosed upon Dhur Diewos and the ancients were soon to be smote for their irreverence. From their Observatory, some claim, Anaxera was seen leaving from their Double-Gates, long scroll in one hand and compass in other. From within those now-famous double-gates, ornate in detail and strong in design, Wilven was seen standing within, massive key-ring in one hand....

Shortly after the gods sundered Dhur Diewos, those of us who survived have seen at times, as death draws near, a massive building in the distance, and a tall woman with scroll in one hand and compass in the other just to our side, waiting as our breaths count to their final draw. Anaxera has no tolerance for those who escape death, for all souls she claims for the Night Lord, yet it is Wilven who decides their fate. It is She who claims, and He who judges, and to those now-famous double-gates we are taken when our time has come. Thus it is said, "Fear not the dark hour ... time ends for all"

Cor Varaana

Lawful Good Patron Saint of Boxing and Meditation

Cor began his adventuring career as a simple Oldarian soldier. He seemed to have a natural talent for competitive boxing and wrestling and would earn money on the side by partaking in various events. While away escorting a convoy, he learned that his fair kingdom had been destroyed by a Zentas Army. He roamed the country side in search of himself and eventually came across an isolated monk complex. He stayed with them for several years honing his skills and unlocked many secrets of Ki. After leaving the temple he met up with several adventures, one of which was a cleric of Legelican. Finding the philosophies Legelican and the teachings of his order to run in parallel, he became a devout follower. The adventuring party itself has many stories of fame, but is most know for its valiant efforts during the time of troubles. Channeling his Ki, Cor was able to shield fleeing peasants from a barrage of arrows from an approaching army lead by the God Bane himself. He instructed the party to escort the peasants as he bought them time. Shouting glories to Legelican, his Ki seemed to gain strength and his movements speed as foe after foe fell before him. The heavily armored soldiers were to slow and their armor did little to protect them from his blows. During this battle, he was able to achieved ultimate enlightenment and contact the spirit of Universal Truth. Seeing his death at the hands of Bane himself, he never the less joined him in combat. The injuries forced the God to take rest and allowed innocents to escape and the arrival of a friendly army. Upon [] this noble sacrifice, Legelican made Cor a place in the heavens.


Domains: Good and Law Priests' Alignments: Lawful Good, and Neutral Good .

Alias: The Pugilist

Nonhag: Noh, the lost sailor

Noh- the lost sailor- During a failed mutiny, Noh was cast overboard. He caught upon some floating plants, and survived on fish and scum for months as he drifted across the seas, his anger building. After a great deal of time, a dark voice bore down upon him, and he ascended. His captain had returned to his home port by that point, and news of the mutineer Noh had spread as a warning to others. Then, on cold, cloudy night, Noh returned to port. The townsfolk gathered outside of their houses and exchanged scared whispers as a colossal wave approached the port. The captain spotted something atop the wave, and raised his spyglass to see more clearly. There, atop a pile of flotsam riding the crest of the wave, stood Noh. The captain’s crazed cries mobilized the crowd, but they were too late. The wave destroyed the town, killing most of the inhabitants, and every crewmate of Noh’s. The captain was the last to die. Impaled by a piece his own home, the captain told his rescuers what he saw before succumbing, and the cult around Noh arose. His followers never see him, as he has never returned from the sea except atop a wave to crush a town. His followers worship his ability to unmake so much at once, and the power that he can lend from afar. Nohans are easy to get along with, surprisingly, as they don’t get too riled over small grievances. However, if annoyed too much, you never see them coming. They become insulted, and leave. Then, in the middle of the night, something terrible and awesome happens, like a house collapsing. The Nohans can never be directly blamed, but are often suspected. Nohans build their temples at the edges of port towns, often crowning them with lighthouses. Since Noh so rarely makes landfall, most towns regard the Nohans as a useful nuisance, and enjoy the increased shipping a good lighthouse brings. The aforementioned lighthouses serve as beacons to Noh, a plea by his followers to come in and bring his blessed destruction to their shores. And every once and a while, Noh listens to his followers’ pleas.

I feel that the purpose of the Saints should be to both get power, and to provide a "lead by example" figurehead. As they continue to live, they continue to gather followers. If they can do it, you can, too!

St. Richard

St. Richard is a recent addition to Legelican's portfolio, having been canonized only a hundred years before the common year. He stands for the idea that any criminal, no matter how dark he's blackened his soul with vice and sin, can be reformed through the law. As such, he teaches compassion for those who transgress outside the purview of the law, and strongly believes in leading by example. Forgiveness is an important act of any follower of St. Richard, and daily matins involve asking for forgiveness from Legelican and forgiving those who have wronged them.

Little is known of St. Richard's life. A myth persists that his mortal remains are enshrined in a forest, laying on a glowing marble altar. It is said that any who find his shrine and ask truly for forgiveness are washed of their mortal and immortal sins.

Priest Alignment: Any good Worshipper Alignment: Any

Thalidor Stormcaller: Valkos the Crusader

'When the world was young, there was no sky to hang the blazing orb called Sun upon and all was darkness. Dhwer-dhur was naught but earth and void, having been ordered by Vir and Meroc… …and when it was their turn, Yseallyra Skywarden drew a cloak of nothing called sky about the world, and Thalidor filled that nothing with power, and thus empowered the sky became the vehicle for the next Act of Creation…'

Valkos the Crusader

Valkos was the only son of an ailing king. Born during the king’s twilight years, of an ancient lineage whose future had seemed dark, he renewed the country’s hope for a rightful ruler. While the people celebrated in the streets, but the king’s brother, the duke, wept. He had pined for the crown, waiting many years for his elder brother to pass beyond the veil of life.

When Valkos was five, the duke’s men kidnapped the child. Disguised as bandits, they waited until he was traveling with his mother and assaulted the small caravan. They left the mother unharmed and left Valkos stranded in a nearby forest, casting him into a den of wolves (for during this time, killing one’s own blood brought a powerful curse, so the duke dared no incur such a thing upon his own head). Before the wolves could consume his flesh however, travelers who were members of a nomadic plains people found him and took him in.

Valkos was adopted by the family, joining with the larger group of nomads heading north to follow the aurach herds. Valkos was raised a plainsman, and stood out as a sharp individual with excellent endurance and a hearty strength. By following the herds, the plains folk would encounter many different peoples, often leading to conflict when traveling through places that bred goblins like rats. Valkos distinguished himself as not only a puissant warrior, but as a peerless strategist and tactician. Valkos excelled in all things and for this reason the chieftain of the plains folk declared on his deathbed that Valkos was to be his successor.

Valkos led his people against the warlike hordes who dwelled on the plains, and soon the plains folk were swelling in numbers. He led them to victory after victory, quashing and conquering the surrounding clans, until he ruled over the largest people on the plains. Prosperity reigned for the next ten years, and the plains folk grew fat on their successes.

The Reconciliation

Such times never last, for word spread from the south that strange warriors with black shields were taking animals and people, abducting them in the night and broad of day alike. Valkos sent scouts south, but none returned. Later, an emissary came from the south, telling the chief of the plains folk to surrender and acquiesce to their inevitable subjugation. Upon reading the note, he saw the seal of the duke, now king.

Valkos, a pious man as well, made sacrifices to Thalidor, the lord whom the plains folk honored above all others, and made commune with the Skylord. Thalidor heard Valkos’ plea and appeared to him as an eagle with four heads and seven wings. He told Valkos of the duke was and of his rightful lineage.

Valkos, enraged by learning of his stripped birthright, rallied his people and gave a powerful speech telling them of his birthright and the divinely ordained war to reclaim it. From there his army of plains folk, many thousand in number, set south for the duke. Reaching the amassed armies of the south, the plains folk completely crushed all those who stood in their way, until they fought against the mustered might of the usurper king.

The duke found himself cornered, out maneuvered by a superior strategist. Valkos captured the duke, revealed his true name. The duke’s eyes opened in horror as he was stripped of the crown, and Valkos identified himself to those within the castle. There was a spectacular coronation ceremony, and quickly the luck of the kingdom, decrepit from such a brutal despot, reversed. Prosperity reigned there as well, and the plains folk and the kingdom were reconciled and joined.

The Veneration of Bellovacus

Soon hero-worship arose, honoring Valkos. Legends sprung up that he was not only Valkos, son of the king, but Valkos, direct descendant of Thalidor the Skywarden. When Valkos died, his body was taken to the top of a mountain and placed within a bier by Stalvoric the High Theocrat, who, following the old traditions, conducted the ceremony with only himself and his acolyte Menaluna. When Stalvoric bent to ignite the pyre, a bolt of lightning struck from the heavens. Stalvoric’s eyes sizzled with the heat, and henceforth could only perceive what could not be seen. Menaluna claimed she saw Bellovacus’ mortal pieces incinerated, and that all that remained was his divinity, which ascended to heaven as a sparkling nimbus. Over the years his veneration increased, though his story is so old that few know when he was canonized.

See Also


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