Appearance

Unlike most of their fellow celestials, Theodosia does not limit themselves to a single, easily recognizable mortal form. They are a true master of shapeshifting magic, equalled by none in the realms above or below. It is said that there is no being, no matter how strange or exotic they might be, that they cannot assume a perfect facsimile of its likeness. The Wanderer typically assumes forms that they believe will be received well in the lands that they sojourn to, so as to not cause discord. They are also not above changing their shape for more utilitarian purposes when it is beneficial or required. Their garb is also usually quite simple and pragmatic traveling apparel, matching the tastes and needs of the culture whose form they take on. However, during matters of great import, when they need to appear as Theodosia the Deific, they often don an enchanted coat given to them by a mortal at the moment of their birth. It was a patchwork quilt of red and blue, with strange, silent pictures dancing on the inside. The buttons were as different as snowflakes, each holding a story, some told, some waiting to be whispered. Generally speaking though, unless it is absolutely necessary they do not display signs of wealth or great status. Not only would such displays invite trouble from the wrong sort of folk, Theodosia is a modest Deity by nature and prefers to avoid announcing themselves as being anything but a humble wanderer in most situations. The one small exception their vanity allows is their collection of charms and keepsakes.  Be they taken from the sacrifices their followers make unto them, or be they simple mementos from treasured encounters, they wear a selection of them openly wherever they roam.

However, these eclectic trinkets are not the only aspect that might mark this ever-changing person as the god Theodosia, and there is one physical feature that manifests across each form that they assume. Before Theodosia’s birth, Ixiad guarded her golden prize well, and bound it tightly with the strongest strands of her acidic webbing that she could spin. And while the divine power invested within the World Tree’s seed was mighty indeed, it was still not enough to ward off all the caustic fluid that flowed through Ixiad’s vile silken strands. Over time, a small amount of the Spider Dragon’s caustic venom leeched through the acorn’s shell, scarring Theodosia’s flesh in a wicked fashion. No matter which mortal form they assume, these acidic web-shaped scars still mar their skin, forever marking them as a one-time prisoner of She Who Walks the Strands.

Theodosia is generally considered to be a peaceful being, and does not delight in acts of violence or cruelty. However, their enemies would do well to not mistake their restraint with a lack of martial skill, or the will to fight when it is necessary. Those who would prey upon Theodosia’s chosen people, or those who would seek to extinguish the Light in general, will quickly find that Theodosia is no pacifist. When they fight, they do not do so as a master of any particular style or weapon, nor do they display a preference for any one particular school of spellcraft. Instead, they employ an entirely unique fighting style that is all their own, using an eclectic combination of weapons and spells cobbled together from every corner of Arthos. It is not uncommon for Theodosia to triumph in combat not through raw skill or power, but in large part due to the confusion their fighting style sows in their opponents.

Tenets

Five things a follower of Theodosia should do:

1. Travel if you can, for it is the antidote to hatred, prejudice, and narrow-mindedness.

2. Obey the customs and laws of foreign lands as best as you are able, but never compromise your inner virtue. Be the light upon the darkened path.

3. Experience all that you can, and spread the tale of your life as often as possible. Unless such knowledge serves the Dark or the Demonic, fear no story or chronicle and spread its words across Arthos.

4. Remain humble and steadfast, for an honest traveller is a trusted traveller.

5. Share the knowledge and histories you gather with others, especially those local to the lands in which you dwell.

Five things a follower of Theodosia should not do:

1. Suffer any commitment that would keep you from the road, be it family, titles, or other duties. The road calls, and you must answer.

2. Bring violence or disorder to the lands you visit without good cause. Vanquishing an evil foe is always noble, while killing out of such base desires such as jealousy or malice is not.

3. Fail to help those along the road who are in need. Be they wounded, sick, or simply starving, it is your duty to lift up fellow travellers who are in distress without expectation of remuneration or even acknowledgment.

4. Establish a permanent home.

5. Fail to push against the boundaries of your world. Allow no border, sea, or planar veil to impede your travels.

History

With the death of the Old Gods of the Einish peoples, there came a tremendous spiritual void, a gaping jagged wound torn directly into the fabric of the celestial realm. Words cannot properly express the damage that their deaths did to the collective psyche of the Einish people, and the power vacuum that their demise created. So great was this sense of loss, that even Arthos herself was forced to respond in kind. As one action begets another, so to must birth herald death.

The World Tree responded to this great spiritual trauma by birthing six Golden Acorns, with each auric seed a home to a new divine being. The story from here is well known by most. Sverin, ever-impatient and bored, hatched early and decided to amuse himself by interfering with the other acorns before they were truly ready. His self-gratifying actions altered the course of destiny for these new godlings, forever altering their nature and place within the world. There was however, one nascent deity that escaped his notice, one see hidden so deep within the World Tree’s boughs that it remained completely unmolested by the God of Discord and Change.

The fates had decreed that the father of this new pantheon was meant to retrieve it, but sadly Valdr’s fate had been altered as well. Instead, this lone acorn lay uncultivated for years, before its weight finally became too much to bear for the branch upon which it rested. One day it finally shook loose and plummeted into the vast primordial wilderness of the Wormwood Plane. Disconnected from the forces meant to give it light and life, it sat unmoving in some long forgotten glade, before its gleam caught the attention of one of the Wormwood’s most infamous locals. The large, magical and sentient squirrel that called itself Ratatoskr stole the golden nut for itself, hiding away its treasure so that none could find it or take it away from him. However, Ratatoskr was not as stealthy as he thought he was, for as he was carrying the acorn to his hidden abode, his passage was witnessed by Mother Spider. Matriarch to all Arachnids and favourite daughter of Ixiad, she reported all that she had seen to her draconic master.Ixiad was rather fortunate, because at the same time she received this information, a hundred or so battle-tested adventurers had gathered upon Amarinthia to put an end to the ruinous dragon known as Ta-Ba-Ret. While she personally could not enter the Wormwood to retrieve it, one of her Dragon Knights that was present had no such limitations. After gathering a host of like-minded draconic followers, they entered the Wormwood and tracked down their quarry. After a brief scuffle Ratatoskr was convinced to give up his prize, whereupon the Knight of Ixiad placed it in a box heavily enchanted with the chaotic magic of the Far Realm. When they opened the box again, the acorn was gone, sent to the Spider Dragon’s hoard.

Thereupon it rested for nearly five years, bound by the Ixiad’s silken strands and spells of arcane torpor. Time and time again she tried to destroy the acorn, and each time she failed; such was the power inherent in Theodosia’s caul. Though warded from death, the little godling inside the acorn grew ever weaker as the years passed, slowly losing its connection to what it was and what it was meant to be.

In the month of August in the year 2266, She who Walks the Strands issued a call to all of Arthos, inviting its citizens to witness the birth of a new Celestial. What she herself had hoped to gain from this, only those present on that day can say with absolute certainty. However, it is believed that she had given up on killing this nascent divinity, and had instead decided upon using it as bait for a greater demonic prize that she wished to ensnare once more. Whatever the case may be, countless adventurers accepted her invitation and arrived at the town of Seidenstadt. There, each faction of worshipers met a godly representative of their own pantheons, who explained that scattered across the area were a series of relics imbued with an incredible power they simply called “Essence.” This mysterious power had several uses when claimed by one of these adventurers, and required them to complete a wide array of difficult labours to claim.  First and foremost of these powers was essence’s ability to change the nature of the nascent godling within the golden acorn placed at the centre of town. While many competed to sway the deity’s nature to their own separate pantheons amidst a demonic invasion, in the end it was those who served the Savage Pantheon that triumphed.  Blanketed by grey, storm-streaked skies summoned by their father Valdr, Theodosia emerged into the world on the morning of August 5th, 2266. There they met the adventurers who had helped free them from their long slumber, and shared with them what they felt was their nature, and their purpose as the Savage Pantheon’s newest member. Tales, food, and keepsakes were shared, as the Talebringer’s knowledge and view of the world began to take shape, with each tale only increasing their desire to experience what they had heard for themselves. They did not remain on the mortal plane for long however, as the effort of their emergence was extremely taxing upon them. Thus, they allowed themselves to be carried by Valdr into the realm of Asgard, where they might take possession over their own celestial domain, and rest.

Celestial Heaven: The Ever-Winding Road

When Valdr took dominion over the various realms of Asgard, there were many domains left fallow by the demise of his divine ancestors. Having not the strength to protect them all, he did what he could and simply warded shut the vast majority of these disparate planes, taking only Valhalla for himself.Years later, upon the birth of his child Theodosia, he bore them upon the wings of his angelic valkyries onto the plane of Asgard, whereupon he offered the Wanderer their pick of these vacant domains. The realm they chose was in ill-repair, for the celestial heaven of a God does not maintain its integrity well without the presence of a divine being to give it shape and purpose. What they beheld behind their father’s wards was no more than a chaotic, roiling mass of divine energy, dangerous yet full of potential. Theodosia impressed their will upon the divine chaos, and as they did so the storms receded and the realm began to take shape in accordance with their nature. The Wanderer also took charge of this now-dead God’s celestial host, offering these lost and forlorn angelic spirits a new purpose in their service.

The Ever-Winding Road appears as a long, winding road wide enough for twelve large caravans abreast to have plenty of room to manoeuvre, and travel upon the road is never strenuous. The packed dirt beneath the faithful of Theodosia never turns to sucking mud in the rain, nor is it plagued with ruts and holes, and no foul weather dares to assail them. When it rains, the water that falls from the sky is always gentle and warm. When the wind stirs, it is naught more than a cooling breeze. Here, upon this glorious path, there are no pitfalls, no brigands, indeed there are no dangers of any kind. Just a countless array of travellers wandering the road. Some ride on horseback, some hang off of brightly-coloured caravans, some even fly, but most are found simply walking the gentle path ahead. On either flank of the road is roughly three to four leagues of some sort of wilderness, the exact sort changes somewhat frequently and often reflects the nature of the heaven that the Ever-Winding Road is currently travelling through. In the gardens of L’lyandra a gentle bountiful green forest skirts the road, while in Malagant’s realm those trees find themselves replaced with massive sweeping dunes of blackened ash and pulverised bone.

As Theodosia was a wanderer by nature, their realm shaped itself to reflect said nature.  The Ever-Winding Road is just that; a road that stretches ever-onwards, with no beginning and no end. It is entirely unlike any celestial realm, for it has no borders, nor is it a static location in space. Instead, like an ephemeral snake it gracefully flows through all the heavens of the realms celestial in a circuit. Whenever the Ever-Winding Road enters a celestial heaven it gently pushes aside and displaces the native landscape and residents, doing no harm as it does so. And when it leaves, all that was shifted aside simply flows back into place.  Curiously, most of the spirits in Theodosia’s domain tend to look quite similar to one another. Facial features are hidden by the shadow of a wide hat or a hood’s cowl, and most simply wear an identical set of traveller’s garb with no unique adornments or alterations. Outside of their own personalities or manner of speech, they are all more or less identical, save for one group of spirits. Easily identified by the weapons only they are permitted to carry, these spirits are called the Everguard by Theodosia. These deceased paladins and other, more-martially minded of their followers maintain an ever-vigilant watch on the outskirts of the travelling caravans, and serve as the first line of defense against all who would do harm to the faithful.

Some mortals, be they living or dead, have used the unique properties of Theodosia’s heaven to travel from one celestial plane to another. So long as they do not cause trouble, the Everguard tends to turn a blind eye when they notice a few folks in disguise sneaking into the caravans from the outskirts. The travelling lay-spirits are not blind to this fact either, and love to tell stories of star-crossed lovers taken to different heavens upon their deaths, and then using the Ever-Winding Road see each once again.

The Grand Caravan

The closest thing Theodosia has to a resting place or a throne, the Grand Caravan is aptly named. Pulled by an eclectic group of animals drawn from all four corners of the mortal world, this massive wood and canvas wagon forever leads and sets the pace for all the other travelling spirits behind it. Stories of the histories of Arthos are painted in vibrant coloured frescos that adorn the massive canvas screens stretched tightly across its bulk, and countless thousands of charms and keepsakes sacrificed to Theodosia hang loosely from yards of ropes and strings secured to its wooden slats. Although it is truly massive on the outside, inside it is bigger still. It is said that one could drop both Castle Lightguard and Berphaunt’s entire capital city inside and it would still not even be half full. Much like the outside, every available surface is an artistic record of some important person, event, or object that made its mark upon creation. There are secrets painted upon these walls that even Dietremen does not know, and there is arcane lore present that would send Salam into fits if he knew what was freely painted upon the floors.

Only once a year does the Grand Caravan stop. On the eve of their birth, Theodosia calls a halt that is announced to all that dwell within their realm. Over the next week or so all of their faithful gather at the Grand Caravan for the Festival of a Thousand and One Tales. For the next seven days their faithful tell stories of their lives, the strange and hidden lore they may have discovered, and the odd folk they have met. Some stories are funny, some are tragic, and some are terrifying, but all are interesting. No spirit would dare risk standing before all of the travelling folk to tell a tale that they felt might fall flat upon countless ears. Once the seven days and nights are done, those spirits who told the best tales are invited by Theodosia themselves to join them on the Grand Caravan, to ride with them until the next festival rolls around. This is of course considered to be a great honour, and many spirits spend the greater part of the year prior practicing their best tales upon their fellow travellers.

The Vagabond’s Rest

While there are countless roaming wagons and other more esoteric caravans to be found along the road, there are no permanent structures to be found on or along the road, save one.  Appearing as a quaint, two-story country style inn of wood and stone, the Vagabond’s Rest is the one permanent structure that Theodosia permits in their domain. It is maintained by the Hobling known as Rose Thistleshroom, one of the Talebringer’s first worshipers. She endeavours to emulate the best of her people’s legendary food and hospitality. Wandering bards from all corners of creation play joyous and uplifting music upon a quaint stage, while the patrons enjoy well-aged spirits and tasty food prepared directly from the harvests of the gardens and forests that surround the inn. No money changes hands here, nor is it meant as a special sort of reward for Theodosia’s favoured.The Vagabond’s Rest is selective in whom it appears before, and its exquisite comforts, wholesome food, and welcoming staff have a greater purpose to fulfill. Life upon the road for mortal beings is often harsh and unfair, with many falling afoul of highwaymen, extreme environments, or ravenous monsters. Travelling outsiders also often end up taking the blame for misfortune that befalls the locals, which could be anything from a bit of bad luck, and all the way up to a major calamity that brings great tragedy to a community. The lucky ones get to flee with what they can carry at a sprint, while the rest  often find themselves beaten to death by the howling mob.

These folk are for whom this quaint country inn has made for. It is the balm made to soothe their traumatised and troubled spirits. The joyous music, warm beds, and delicious home-cooked food are there for as long as they need it, but once they leave they may never return, for the Inn must make room for another guest.