#fantasy gods
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During your exploration you stumble upon a shrine.
The electricity fills the air.
The Deity is present.
Would you like to leave an offering?
A sweet treat from a friend.
A paper star.
A broken pencil.
A piece of lint from your pocket.
Blood.
No.
#ichi makes art#art#digital art#illustration#fantasy art#digital illustration#drawings#interactive art#chooseadventure#deity#fantasy gods#offerings#blood#horror
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My one and only God OC.
His name is Feion and he's the God of natural disasters.
His twin is God of weather and Feion simply manipulates his powers like the little shit he is.
#art#anime art#artwork#character art#digital art#oc art#original art#small artist#mythology#fantasy gods#dnd#dnd character#dnd art#dnd oc#dungeons and dragons#dungeons and dragons art#illustration#artists on tumblr
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When taking in the common fantasy trope of "gods need prayer badly to increase their power" combined with the fantasy trope of "gods as people" the concept of prayer being central to a god's power is really fascinating. In settings where gods need prayer, the type of prayer is often a petitionary prayer, asking for something from a god. It's purely transactional.
But what must it be like, if a god is a person? If a god is a person, a god can get lonely. A god can desire companionship. A god might want to be remembered for something other than what they can give. A god has to see all the prayers and deny some because they contradict, or because it would cause greater harm. Yes, stopping the rain would make your day easier, but it would make you hungrier. Yes, you don't want this much traffic, but if everyone wants less traffic and drives at the same time, it creates the same problem. So they do the best they can for as many worshippers as they can, and are rewarded by snubbing, being called fickle, and even louder demands.
To a god like that, they give their worshippers everything they can, and the only thing they get in return is demands for even more. And to add insult to injury, some humans act as though even the act of praying is an offense, as though even the small energy expended by asking is too much to ask and the gods should just give them freely. Is it any wonder, that they go mad?
#fantasy tropes#fantasy gods#like...how happy would you be#if the only reason anyone cared about you or visited you or spoke to you was because they wanted something
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Xolith
Pronunciation: "SHO-lith"
The god of death, spirits, justice, and the balance of nature. He appears most often in the form of a cheerful teenage farm boy as shown here. The coat he wears is detailed with his swirling mist motif, which is commonly used in human burial rituals.
Here he is holding one of his vultures, carrion-eating birds which clean up the dead things in the world and prevent the spread of disease. Likewise, he is also commonly associated with maggots - of both the "eats only dead tissue" and "eats sheep alive" varieties - as a symbol of his nature. He wears nut shells (mostly walnuts) which rattle when he moves, as he's otherwise too quiet and prefers to let people know he's coming.
He appears typically in low-light conditions, preferably smothered in mist, to shepherd away the dead, calm spirits, and is the embodiment of dew settling over the land and gently watering crops before sunrise.
Despite the morbid nature of his work, Xolith tries to be uplifting to the dead and dying when he comes to them. Balancing his role as the god of justice, he uses the stretch of time when people are about to die (the bit where their "life flashes before their eyes") to decide whether to take people. He is there for the untimely dead to comfort them, and to debate the merit of when to let people live or not. In this aspect, he can get quite Socratic about it, and he also speaks about death as though he has personal experience (outside his job).
He finds his role as justice interesting because he is aware that justice as a concept evolves over time, and so he tries to adapt with it. He is very picky about handing out divine punishment, as his only option there is usually death, so he typically reserves his moments of intervention for other godly matters. He's supposed to be the rational influence over the other gods, and when he believes they go too far with interfering with the human realm and human lives, he steps in to remind them that's not fair.
Offerings to Xolith are most often made in anticipation of death or as part of burial rites. These can include nuts, fresh water, heartwood, and smoke or burning incense.
#the enby werewolf thing#my art#worldbuilding#artists on tumblr#art#illustration#oc#original character#fantasy gods#digital art
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I do worldbuilding a lot and if you'd be willing to listen I'll tell you about my most favorite creation from my current setting, Wishworld; Arachnodeus Metamorpha
Arachnodeus was once a entomologist from Oregon, a bitter man who was endlessly frustrated with how insects, the foundation of any functional ecosystem, where endlessly forgotten and dismissed out of hand.
After The Event, a mysterious cosmic event that granted many peoples wishes, they ended up being the one of the many who's prayers were answered and ascended to godhood, becoming the God Of Vermin Arachnodeus Metamorpha, with his own divine realm of The Sump, a vast and festering series of jungles and swamps that swarm and buzz with virus-ridden life.
Only, Arachnodeus didn't know how to leave and as such, was entirely alone...
for 25 years.
They sat in their colossal insect mound, transformed into a rotten old gnarled and lopsided harvestman the height of the empire state building, soaking in their own bitterness and misanthropy for those years, rotting alone until they had forsaken humanity all together and had nothing but hatred for them.
Then, they found out how to make projections to leave The Sump.
They quickly met up with other gods, the closest things they had to "friends" being The Great Man, a god of plants that was never human, and Qian Wu, god of joy, who actually did fully grasp the import of disease and decomposition in a functional ecosystem.
They days, they serve as the patron of the rebel and punk, claim any and all things undesirable but needed as under their domain. Some especially valuable and misanthropic mortals are given the glory of incarnating in The Sump as non-sentient rodents, beetles, worms, and salamanders to live the rest of eternity in blissful ignorance. This leads into competition with Nemo, God Of Nothing, for followers as they, too, claim the poor and downtrodden as their own, though Nemo wants them to end their own lives so they can suffer in loneliness for the rest of eternity in their realm of The Oubliette.
DAMN I love this guy.
#original post#worldbuilding#i love worldbuilding#gods#fantasy gods#bugs#insects#entomology#They're actually really popular among post-event furries and otherkin#as they follow into both of their domains#fantasy#fantasy worldbuilding
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Happy WBW!
🃏 - What in your world is so out there that it baffles everyone? An example from our world could be whales that are so huge we can't imagine it, or medical advances.
The weirdest thing in Yssaia is probably the true nature of the gods.
Basically all of my gods are body horror eldritch monstrocities. And the humans in my world don't like to think about them like this. Like, the God of Earth birthed humanity in this giant cavern. It's covered in pink fungi that are definitely not made of the God's flesh... or the God of Magic requires your eye for you use magic. Or the Radiant God is a magic fungus that makes you sapient.
The humans treat gods basically how you might treat any powerful person. But they are much more wiley and incomprehensible than that...
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A new idea is on cohost
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Haven’t drawn for myself recently so here’s a quick illustration for a god within my worldbuilding project :>
#artists on tumblr#character art#oc artist#digital sketch#oc art#original art#sketches#fantasy art#fantasy character#fantasy gods#illustration#digital artist#digital illustration#homebrew#worldbuilding art#worldbuilding#fantasy world#fantasy worldbuilding#high fantasy#character design#character illustration#original character#ocgods#oc artwork
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5. Satanic and Chained Up
Cw: Slavery, slapping, extremist ideology in a fantasy setting, whumper believes in the Divine Right Of Kings, religious justification of torture, stress position, threats of a flogging, description of a flogging that hasn’t occurred.
Note: whumper and whumpee’s religious stances do NOT reflect my own. This is an exploration of ‘The Divine Right of Kings’ and general extremist bullshit. Evan’s views also are me playing with how atheism can manifest in a world where the gods frequently interact with mortals.
Lord Maynard is a paladin and this is a subversion of the usual stereotypes.
---
Evan’s heart races as he stands in a huge bedroom with a four-poster bed. The beauty and size dwarves him in comparison. Beautiful curtains hang from the wooden frame above the bed. To one corner of the room is an ornately painted screen to change behind. The screen stands next to a well-decorated wardrobe. In the other corner, sits a wooden table with a bowl of exotic fruits that Evan has never seen before. A fire sits not too far from the bed, glowing gently in the absence of its master.
Evan moves around the room, checking and double checking the windows for an exit. They are locked. Fuck. They are locked.
His anger and fear blend together. Why couldn’t he have just gone along with those guards and pretended. Maybe no one would have noticed. At least that way, he wouldn’t have gotten a thrashing and- whatever this is…
Deep breath in. And out. Calm. He tries to relax as an eternity passes. Waiting. Focus on something else. Anything else. What would he be doing now…? If he hadn’t been so stupid to think someone would genuinely try to help a street kid. He’d be… bickering with Meg maybe. Arguing about her dumb fictional crushes which he had never been able to relate to. Or maybe he’d be telling her to put another flea-ridden cat she found back where she found it, or so help him… it was always an empty threat. Meg enjoyed the bickering. And in all honesty, so did he. Or, maybe he’d be trying to wash her smelly unicorn toy. That thing was disgusting. M, would probably be hanging around watching, or taking Meg’s side. M had always been soft when it came to the little ones, letting things slide that she’d chastise him for with a grin now. She’d looked out for him like that once, too. A long time ago. But now she counts on him being able to help her look after all three of them. Counted. But she counted on him helping her look after all three of them of them. What would she do now?
Evan rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. No. He will see them again. This is not the end. He’ll get out of here…. Somehow…and move his way back to…. Wherever they were before. It’ll be fine. Or maybe they will rescue him? Find out what’s happened and come to save him.
The doors swing open, cutting off his train of thought, as the large, well-dressed figure of Lord Maynard enters. Evan finally gets a good look at him as the man strides into his chambers. He’s a human man, with well-kept black hair. He has large, broad shoulders and styled black hair. If Evan had seen him around the town, he might have assumed he was a merchant.
Maynard moves towards Evan, like a lion assessing an antelope. Evan swallows, exhaustion from earlier being chased away with a fresh bout of fear. He fights the urge to move back, instead, standing his ground. He raises his chin and puffs his chest out, swallowing back the pain from his beating.
“So. You must be the little slave who stole food and tried to escape?” the Lord asks. His tone is light, with a hint of danger to it.
Evan stays silent. His mouth begins to dry and the urge to back up begins to scream at him.
Maynard steps close. “Answer me when I’m talking to you.” His demands echoes around the room.
Evan feels his legs beginning to shake. Answer or not… this is a trap. Anything he says… he’s fucked.
Maynard walks forwards and strikes Evan. The rings on his hand scour two bloody lines across the cheek. The lines cut into the already yellow and blue cheek, which hasn’t fully recovered from earlier. “You will give me a response or I will have a finger taken off for your insolence.”
Evan’s breath hitches in his throat as he feels his throat begin to constrict. He feels all bravery leave him. “Y-” he coughs “Yes. I am.”
“You will address me as Sir or Master. Understood?”
“Yes… Sir…”
Maynard smiles “That was easy, wasn’t it?”
Evan stays quiet. Unsure what he could say in response.
“Now. Let’s get one thing clear. I will not tolerate disobedience from scum. The gods have placed me on this world to protect the good people from devils like you. And if that causes me to have to whip the evil out of you, then so be it. I will be doing my duty.” Maynard says this with pride in his voice, like man who has achieved something grand.
“You will obey me. And you will learn the place that the gods have allocated to you. Understood?”
Evan blinks. He fights the urge to call this man absolutely fucking nuts. Best not to do that when trapped in a room with him. “Yes…Sir.”
“Good. Now. You will kneel when I enter a room. Understood?”
Evan blinks, taking a small step backwards. His body shouts to run whilst his brain pushes him to fight. A surge of resilient pride runs through him for a moment, just long enough for all sense to be lost. “No-”
What he said suddenly registers, and he wants to kick himself.
“No?” There is a quiet rage in Maynard’s voice.
“Wait, I mean-” Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Fear shoots through him. Just comply. Stay alive and live to fight another day.
Evan drops to his knees with a thud that causes him to wince. He stares at the ground. Let that be enough. Please.
“Don’t you dare say no to me.” The Lord growls “But no. By all means. If you don’t want to kneel. Don’t.”
He grabs Evan’s thin wrists in one hand, roughly pulling Evan to his feet and dragging the boy across the room to the four-poster bed. Evan’s wrists are shifted from Maynard’s left hand to his right hand as he grabs some cord that holds the bed-curtain together. He throws it over the wood at the top of the bed, before wrapping the other end, tightly around Evan’s wrists. Maynard then begins to wrench Evan’s weight up, until the boy is on his tiptoes.
“There. Now you don’t have to kneel. How does that feel? Boy? Better. I hope so.” Maynard spits, his voice full of righteous anger.
Evan’s wrists scream at him as the cord tightens, digging into his wrists. His jaw trembles slightly from the pain as the skin on his hip is stretched out. He lets out a small whine.
“I asked you a question. Does that feel better?”
Evan’s mind races. Yes? Or no? What does the man want to hear? Anything. Say what he wants. Fuck bravery and resilience. He wants to make it out of this in tact. Evan makes a split second decision. “No... Master.” His skin crawls at the word. The word fills him with a strange repulsive nausea but he continues. “I would… prefer to kneel…” There is a foul taste on his tongue as he finishes the sentence. He wants to swear and spit and shout… but so far, that had just gotten him hurt. Maybe this will work better? Do what Trygve said… keep his head down?
“That is a shame… you can kneel in the morning. Before I have you flogged for your little scene earlier.”
Evan blinks. That… didn’t work… wait. Flogging. What?
The boy’s shock is clearly evident on his face as Lord Maynard looks at him “You didn’t think that you wouldn’t be punished for your act of dissidence did you?” He shakes his head as he causally begins to the screen to undress for bed. There is the click as he undoes his belt. The sounds of fabric rubbing together.
Evan can see an arm stretch to grab a night shirt.
“You stole from me and injured my employee. Clearly, you deserve some punishment. Otherwise the gods wouldn’t have brought you into my hands. No. But don’t fear. I’m not unjust. The punishment will fit the crime. You stole from around twenty meals. And injured a guard. I’d say thirty lashes should suffice.”
Evan’s stomach drops. And heart races in his throat.
Maynard reappears. “You can stay there till the morning, I think. Until you realize that kneeling for me really isn’t that bad.” He moves a candle to his bedside table. And spends a couple of moments pulling the bed’s covers back, causally. As if there wasn’t someone else in the room. He then climbs into bed. “Thirty lashes. Unless you wake me up. If you make a sound I will make sure that they flay the skin from your back. Understood?”
Evan nods quickly, blinking back tears.
“I didn’t hear you.”
“Y-yes… Sir…”
Evan’s face has gone pale during this speech. As the realization begins to set in. He’d seen floggings before. Thieves who’d gotten caught, or someone who’d started a fight. He’d seen ten lashes bring a grown man to tears as his skin was abused by knotted leather. Evan’s whole body trembles.
“Good. Much better.” With that, the Lord blows out the candle and nestles down in his bed. Curling up to sleep off the feast.
Evan stands there, hanging silently. His elven blood allows him perfect sight of the dark, grey room and the glowing embers from the fire. Despite the darkness that covers the room. His calves hurt as cramp sets in.
He blinks and hangs there. His wrists hurt as his hand’s circulation begins to go and the cord bites into his flesh.
Big tears begin to well in Evan’s eyes as he just wants to curl up and go home. Fuck why couldn’t he have stayed with Meg? Life had sucked in places before but this… this was worse. Why couldn’t he have decided not to meet those fucking men? Why can’t he just keep his fucking mouth shut?
The prospect of a flogging makes his chest heave deeply in a sob. He wants to sniff. To shakily cry and scream openly but he doesn’t. He uses all his willpower to keep himself from sobbing. He will not dig himself a deeper hole. A deeper grave to lie in.
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. His knees hurt. Fuck.
He tries to stretch out one leg to disperse the cramp, but that makes the other hurt more.
He wishes the morning would come sooner. And then wishes that this would last longer. Before his back gets torn open. Skin ripped from flesh. What kind of whip would be used? A bullwhip looks lethal, but what if this man preferred to use a sailor’s whip? Or maybe he would use one which is metal-tipped. Fuck fuck shitting fuck. Evan’s throat contracts slightly as his breathing increases.
Evan had seen the scars before. Of course he had. The only way to avoid a flogging if you were caught stealing or some other crime, was to pay. Gold will get you anywhere. The scars were ugly, and humiliating. They told the world what you have done and there was almost nothing that could undo that.
His legs tremble. He feels sick. Tears won’t stop falling. He silently inhales, allowing the shaky sobs to be as silent as possible. He hangs there, exhausted and terrified. Silently waiting and dreading the dawn.
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AN: Hopefully that was alright!! I decided to not put it through grammarly this time so hopefully the grammar and spelling isn't Wattpad levels of bad 🤣🤣
Again please do not mistake any of the characters beliefs for my own. I'm mostly just playing around in a DND setting. Lord Maynard would be a Paladin of Conquest and I'm playing with subverting paladins as a 'noble' class. If you want, feel free to guess Evan's class!
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@sunshiline-writes @kixngiggles @pumpkin-spice-whump @ivycloak
#whump blog#whump writing#dnd whump#whumpblr#fantasy whump#whump tropes#defiant whumpee#sadistic whumper#cw: violence#beating#stress position#slapping#tw flogging reference#religious whump#whump#tw: extremist ideologies#whumper is a paladin#tw: divine right of kings#fantasy gods#fantasy religion#These Woods
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Athanasius before the Execution
#oc#digital art#art#original character#dnd#dnd art#dnd oc#dungeons and dragons#fantasy#dark fantasy#fantasy art#fantasy gods
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The Sanktis Project // Repentant Trickster Veledon
The god of Health and Healers, protector from disease began their godhood as a minor trickster. When their sole mortal servant begged the god l save her wife, Vel set out to steal part of the long silence’s power— the piece that effects the body.
Successful, the trickster went on to give healing to many, and devoted themself to their new position as god of healers (though sometimes they play tricks like sinus inversus or the like).
The Continent for the most part relies on a modified Miasma theory of disease— the idea that miasmas or “bad air” are the cause of contagious disease.
Clerics of Veledon spend the majority of their time organizing city infirmaries, lazarettos, plague quarters, and in rare times of war are voluntarily attached to army units.
Not all healers take holy orders, instead choosing to open private practices or specialty shops.
Magical healers in the order have a wide array of healing abilities—seers able to look inside bodies, burn out infection, detect cancer, or heal broken skin and bone. Surgeries are done with physical tools, magic-enhanced anesthetic, and healers to close. Non-magical healers serve in the order as surgeons, potion makers, nurses and in diagnostic capacities even without magical abilities. Potions and poultices are often made en masse by non-magic means and then enhanced or activated as needed by the magical clerics.
While germ theory hasn’t been figured out yet, magic and the knowledge of the body it reveals has been able to prolong lives and raise quality of living.
#The Sanktis Project#Sanktis#fantasy world#fantasy worldbuilding#worldbuilding#fantasy gods#priests#priesthoods#healers#clerics
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The newest, youngest member of a pantheon of gods
#writing#writing prompt#writing prompts#character prompt#character prompts#fantasy#fantasy writing prompt#fantasy gods
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Kit (KEET) and Bruna (BROO-nuh) Neia of life and Neia of plants.
[ID: A digital art piece on a light gray background. The character on the left is a fat tan person with deer legs who is not wearing a shirt. They have long, curly hair and are smiling. The person on the right has goat legs and messy light brown hair. They are paler than the left character. Their clothes are in shades of brown and green, and they are holding a bag with moss growing on it. /end ID]
Gods in Eurath are not all powerful. They are limited by what Eyth (magic) can do. Since rich people can buy Eythim, the Neia (gods) are mainly worshipped by lower and middle classes. I’m still working on the Neia and religion, but so far I really like it!
#art#self taught artist#digital art#artist#artists on tumblr#original character#fantasy#fantasy art#image description#image described#fantasy gods#Eurath#eurath rambles#commissions open#special interest#infodump#partial nudity
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The Lord of Light & His Servant
In the Morningstar
"If the sons and daughters of Alfheim want to fight a frivolous war, they are sorely mistaken that it is anything but. At this moment, my light is pressing against the boundaries of their world. Yet they resist me."
"Lord, are we certain we need--" M was met with a stare. With a slight increasing heated pressure on his physical form. --I apologize, lord. It's just that it seems pointless to continue these raids. For what purpose do we gain?"
The lord of light tapped his fingers along the armrest of his pure white throne. He smiled, and his eyes gazed towards M in a manner that made M feel very uncomfortable. He gulped only once, and his lord got up. Circling around him.
"If they believe their ridiculous puny shield can stand up against the might of my light, then they are fools. What aught is to gain Mik? To show the multiverse my unfathomable and unquestionable rule!"
Mik's lip twitched, but it didn't go unnoticed.
"OH, You have something to say?"
"I-it's just, if your plan is to envelop every world into your light, then how can anyone be shown the truth of your glory?"
The Lord laughed, pacing around Mik like a predator waiting to pounce. Which was odd, because he was much shorter than Mik, and not wearing any armor.
"OH, Mikhail, so unaware, so new to this game we gods play. If all is within my light, they will see. Once my ascension is complete." The lord said, trotting his way back towards his throne, sitting down, looking over his nails. "And the boy, has he been found yet? I had him once, until my brother interfered.
"N-no, w-we believe that he may have.." Mikhail hesitated. Nervously shaking.
The lord stopped playing with his nails and stared at him venomously. "He may have what, Mikhail?" He said, gripping his throne.
"We believe he may have..escaped our grasp..fled Midgard, Sire." Mikhail began trembling.
The pure white room began to shake, and a vein of pure light traveled towards Mikhail from the throne.
"Mikhail." The lord of light spoke in one of the most insidious voices he'd ever heard. Deeper than you'd think a little boy could speak.
"Y-y-yes S-s-sire?" Mikhail trembled, fearing for his life. He knew he shouldn't of said anything, even questioned him beforehand. But he didn't have a choice, he had asked him directly.
"Is there something wrong with your men? Is it their training? Their..lack of experience in being newly formed? Or is it perhaps your incompetence that keeps them from giving me what I desire?"
"W-we were to late in scrying for his location, Lord. Your brother made it very difficult, almost impossible. Be time we reached his hide-out in Midgard, the boy was gone."
The Lord's eyes flicked up, looking over Mikhail after listening. He clicked his tongue in his mouth, scoffing.
"Of course, I suppose you could not be expected to compete with one who is so conniving and wretched as my dear brother."
Mikhail sighed a heavy relief internally. Feeling as though a great pressure was lifted off him.
"However, it seems I'll have to take a more...direct approach" The lord said, making Mikhail sweat profusely. Before he was even able to ask, the Lord of Light sent his searing light directly into Mikhail from the floor below, engulfing his servant. When the light dissipated, Mikhail was changed, changed into grotesque, and hideous. The likes of which none had ever seen in three thousand years. Appearing as the ancient text states. The Lord laughed in response when the monstrosity cowered before him. He simply flicked his hand, and they were whisked away somewhere.
"As for that boy.." the Lord said to himself. "I guess I'll have to find him myself."
#pagan#polytheism#angels#gods#fantasy writing#fantasy fiction#fantastical#fantasy#aspiring writer#aspiring author#lord of light#fantasy gods#gods of fantasy#fantasy heaven#the morningstar#pagan fiction#pagan fantasy#polytheist fantasy#alfheim
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Appari
Pronunciation: "a-thar-ee"
The god of children, protection, wetlands, new growth, innocence and discovery.
They are a playful god which comes to children in need of fun or protection in the wilderness (e.g., preventing kids from being bitten by snakes, helping lost children find their way back). They often use this form to commune with children, but are equally comfortable shapeshifting into a regular kitten to guide them.
Appari tries to encourage everyone to retain their sense of wonder and adventure in life, and to not abandon their childhood instincts for curiosity and fairness when they come of age.
Adults can also make offerings to and receive boons from Appari. Usually this is done by parents of children they wish to be protected, or as devotees to Appari who have not "outgrown" them.
Typical offerings to Appari include things that are easily accessible to children: grass, seeds, twine, sweets. Children do not have to make offerings for Appari to appear to them in moments of need, though it does help. Adults who want to commune with Appari need to get into a meditative state that focuses on abandoning jaded or cynical "adult" mindsets.
More about other gods in this world here: https://prokyon.tumblr.com/post/738386562886336512/ghonst
#the enby werewolf thing#art#artists on tumblr#digital art#fantasy gods#worldbuilding#my art#writers on tumblr#illustration#oc#original character
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Osdea, the tender hearted goddess of love, and Ezella, the impartial goddess of nature, were never fated for each other. At least not happily.
Since Osdea first opened her eyes, she had fallen in love with everything around her; The delicate roses, contradicted with their sharp thorns, the forests and meadows with their unique flora and fauna, the seasons, bringing and taking life from the world, and the ever changing state of every living thing.
Ezella, on the other hand, had never been specifically partial to anything she had created. From the foxes, the axolotls, birds, and scorpions to the fir trees, corals, flowers and cacti, every single thing simply was. She neither loved nor hated any of them, and cared both equally and not at all for each of them.
#the gods and their legends#fantasy#dnd#fantasy gods#gay#queer#queer gods#ocs#wlw#wlnb#writers on tumblr#discarded draft#gay gods#fruity as hell
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