The Siblings

“...and of course I refer to the holy three, Mitra, Thyr and Muir. “Siblings” is a contentious word, as it could mean any of three things. First, that the three were born to the same mother. I consider that unlikely, there are many stories of Thyr being raised to godhood for his deeds, but there are no companion stories for Muir or Mitra, which one would have expected had they all lived at the same time. 
Second, they could be siblings by grace of the heavens. When a mortal creature is reborn a sa god, they are given a new form born of planar energy. If we can relate our fleshy forms together by blood, surely the divine can also have a concept of blood-brotherhood.
Thirdly, they could be siblings by association, adoptive if you well. Gods, proper gods anyway, go through rigorous training to learn to use their powers. They are taught the limits of their power, the social mores of godhood, and Leftwise, a the language that gods use to speak to creation. Such a close bond could form between these young gods that they could consider themselves siblings.
Let us consider these paintings then. The first shows Muir in the 4th age, likely in the 71st century. She is at the height of her power, and is the dominant god in the Valley. Her soldiers have fought back the combined forces of Bowbe and Grothag, and the land is about to enter into the longest peace it has ever recorded.
Muir was the youngest of the siblings, strong and hot headed. At the time, Thyr’s diplomacy had failed, and Mitra’s urge for care and balance had both failed, and it was only through Muir’s strength and the power of her soldiers and her chosen Lady Macry that Bowbe and Grothag were defeated. At that time, many Thyrites and Mitrans converted, replenishing the Sword Lady’s troops, and allowing her to solidifty her position.
This rendition of the Bloody hand is already broken, a slight anachronism, as she would not shatter it until a few short centuries before her death. The blood flows from her hand and stains the ground, but also flows upward to her head and drifts towards the ceiling. This is possibly artistic licence, probably a literal representation of a quote from her holy book: “And so her blood flow’d free, for the blade cut deep. Blood would stain the earth and the heavens”
That the word “heavens” is used instead of “the beyond” or “the planes” hints to the passage’s meaning: That it was the blood of her sacrifice, that is, the inherent entropy of battle, rather than the blood of her enemies laying upon the field.
Do you recognise the window in the background? Keep it in mind, it will come up later. Her armor and clothes mirror the fashions of the 71st century, and match contemporary artwork. Likely the artist was inspired by Dlhwyeh’s late period. It’s a curious choice to show the Sword Lady so vulnerable, with neither breastplate or helm, which leads us to the next painting.
Here we see Thyr, clearly painted in the style of the turn of the era, likely no later than first century E. Let us move past Thyr for a moment and examine the composition. We see the window again, but broken. In the lower corner we can see the Bloody Hand, likely driven into the ground by Thyr himself. As an aside, this is figurative, Thyr nor anyone else ever recovered the Hand. 
From this and many other clues we know this represents Thyr after the death of Muir at the hands of Kal-Ay-Mah the Assassin of Gods. The broken window in the background compliments this idea.
Thyr himself is dressed in robes, and care has been taken by the artist to show that he wears no armor beneath it. The black sash shows him mourning for his sister, and the black cloak implies that he is taking on her burden.
The weapon he carries is without a doubt The Gavel, also known as the King’s Judgement, or Thyr’s Hammer. The Gavel was forged in Axis, and was gifted to Thyr (along with his godhood), emphasising his Lawful aspect over his Goodliness. The Gavel is described as “a hammer of war, of axiomatic might and the force of law”. 
In this painting, the Gavel is drawn smaller, and Thyr wields it comfortably in one hand. After the death of Muir, Thyr changed his role from that of Lawmaker to that of a kind and just ruler. Scholars suggest that he withdrew from his role within the court of gods, and moved his attention to watch over the Valley with greater vigilance. As his priests preached diplomacy and an end to the bloodshed, the Gavel (figuratively, but perhaps literally as well) changed to match his new role. There are definite records of the Gavel being wielded by Thyr’s chosen, sometimes appearing as a the light hammer pictured, but also rarely in its original form; a massive warhammer.
Finally, we turn to Mitra. You may have suspected from the last two paintings that our artist is a Mitran, and this portrait clinches it. The submissive poses present in the previous works are gone, replaced by the stoic Goddess of Charity, and now Justice and Diplomacy as well. 
The Bloody Hand and Thyr’s crown lie broken and bloodied behind her. The other siblings have fallen, but she remains resolute, and has taken on their burdens. Mitra holds her Scale of Respite, and although the arms are not even, the cups remain at the same height. There’s plenty written on the symbolism here, although most of it is obvious and I shan’t bore you.
Mitra is almost exclusively drawn wearing a battered breastplate; while it is not an artifact holy to her, it is a practical dress, and favored by her and her priests. The artist has updated the design from the one Muir wears, and the design matches those commonly worn around the time the painting was made, in 1130E.
To answer the most common question, no: The goods do not “look like that”. The idea that gods look like average people from their time, or more often contemporary with the artist is to miss the point. Gods look to us as they would want us to see them. Even the most lawful of gods bend to this rule. Instead think about what the artist may have been trying to say. They’ve painted the gods as human, and vulnerable but they show respect and piety even so.
Blasphemy? No. All art is subjective, and art of gods is doubly so. These are how the gods appeared to the artist, and many people in the 12th century E. Think less of what the artist meant to the gods, and more about what the gods mean to us, then and now.”