Isorith

A crescent moon placed in the inner circle of a snowflake.

## Alignment:

Lawful Evil

Isorith holds himself and imposes on his followers to a system of survival of the fittest whether they like it or not. He believes that cruelty is needed to survive and be strong.

## Likes and Dislikes:

Likes: Survivors, Self Preservation, The Strong, Intelligence, Resourcefulness

Dislikes: Vanity Gifts, Charity, The Soft-hearted, Sloth

## Tenets:

1. One must endure the harshness of winter, as perseverance is a testament to itself.
2. Rely only on yourself, as when darkness comes, we are all truly alone.
3. One must be cruel to survive the bitter cold of the night. As in times of danger and stress, compassion will only make you weak.
4. Do not fear the dark, as only in darkness, do we ever truly see clearly.
5. Preserve whatever warmth you have, as preservation of what is vital is the bedrock of winter.

## Depictions/concepts:

Isorith is often depicted as a goblin, though instead of the typical green colour, his skin is an icy vibrant blue and his eyes are as pure white just like the snow. He is depicted wearing a shroud, a symbol of enveloping himself in darkness.

However, at times his devout can swear that they see and feel the presence of him in the shadows presence during the harshest winter’s nights.

Other devout say that during the darkest hours of the night, if there is snowfall, they could have sworn that some snowflakes shined, actually shined as if they were stars, resembling the stark white of Isorith’s bright piercing eyes.

## Personality:

Isorith is extremely cold-hearted, and calculatingly cruel. He strives to embody the brutality and power of the cold harsh winter, and invoke the unrelenting fear of the darkness surrounding it. He believes that in order to survive and be strong, one must be resolute in their desire and will to live. In doing so, he believes that one must look out for themselves, as in the end, it is a survival of the fittest. Therefore, his belief is that compassion only makes one weak and incapable, so he has always sworn to himself that he would never show compassion lest his followers see him as such.

Therefore, Isorith himself was almost impervious to any mortal emotion, whether it be hate, anger, or fear. However, he had once felt love for Lucerna, the Goddess of Light and Warmth, but even that seems so miniscule now. He absolutely despises those who are soft-hearted, believing that there is no room for that if one is to survive and be strong, and so he frequently tests his followers to ensure that they remain of great strength.

## Stories:

Isorith, God of Cold and Darkness, is often known as the embodiment of winter’s cruelty, and for good reason. He is every storm that courses through the harsh frost covered lands, every avalanche that comes crushing down from highs above, he is every monster that lies lurking in the dead of the night, and so, he is every prowling shadow that one sees in the corner of their eye. He is Isorith.

### Phantoms Of Greatness

One of the most infamous tales of Isorith, had to do with his wrath amongst those he believed to be weak. It is a tale told often to invoke fear in his followers, and urges them to never be content with being inadequate.

It is rumored to be that there was once a lone tribe consisting of goblins and orcs, that were traversing through the outlands far north of Oracle. Having been traveling for weeks on end in the harsh cruel environment, they were on their last rations, and game was not easy to find during the dead of winter. The tribe grew desperate and wandered into lands they knew to be occupied by more powerful beasts, in the hopes that they could gather some food for the night. They had encountered a pack of exceptionally large ravaging beasts, that gravely outpowered them. Knowing this, they retreated into a dark cave within the depths of the tundra in a futile attempt of seeking refuge.

One foot after the other they traversed the rugged terrain exploring the expansive gloomy cavern. All there was to eat were the bats within the cave though such little food as that would not be enough to feed an entire tribe. The tribe grew desperate, so much so that they had resorted to cannibalism, fighting each other, killing each other, feasting upon their fellow companions flesh. Isorith, despite not often paying attention to most mortals, respected and admired such violent and gruesome acts in the name of self preservation and resourcefulness. He had determined that this tribe was worthy of his blessings and grace, and so it was rumored to be that he granted them a temporary, fleeting resistance of sorts to the cold.

Each member of the tribe could feel as if the flesh on their skin became thicker almost, more hardened and ready to endure. They swore they could hear whispers of the name “Isorith” echo throughout the empty cavernous tunnels that they were surrounded by. “Isorith has blessed us today!” They had cried out, blissful and filled with relief. Filled with a renewed strength, they ventured out of the cave fearlessly. “We will be glorious once again!” They shouted, filled with a sense of power and energy they had never felt before. With it, they dauntlessly trekked through the merciless snow.

The tribe had the strength to be able to travel long enough to find a small group of camps out in the tundra. Mercilessly, they slaughtered the campers and took all of their resources. “We will never be weak again, a God has blessed us.” They said, as they reveled in their stolen goods. Isorith noticed however, that they had grown… complacent, content with letting a God do all their work for them. They had mistaken the reason why Isorith had given them a speck of power in the first place. “Let us feast! A God has blessed us, and when he blesses us again we shall venture onwards again!” They carelessly devoured and feasted upon all their spoils, and were content with just being idle and useless, nothing but just waiting for the next blessing from a God to arrive and save them.

Isorith grew furious at this display of such sloth and lack of resourcefulness, seeing what he once believed to be strong and rational individuals deserving of his grace, now acting as such spineless fools, wasting all of their resources without a second thought. Then that night, with all of them asleep, not even one on guard, after consuming away at all their goods, they could hear a strong, deep voice echo through the winds of the night as they were awoken, “You insolent fools, my blessing was not one out of charity. It was because I thought you to be strong… What a shame it is that I was wrong.” And with during the dead of the night, feeling disgusted at their utter foolish display of indulgence and idleness, Isorith withdrew all the warmth, every last bit of it from the tundra. Each one of them could feel as if the life was being drained relentlessly from their body as their fingers and face turned so blue, soon to only be covered in ice. It was slow, but it was unyielding.

There was just 1 lone survivor, a measly little goblin who had huddled and bundled under the corpses of his fallen, frozen, comrades. Despite their bodies lacking any warmth, this goblin used them as a means of shielding himself from the bitter, unforgiving winds. “I will not die, I will not die!” He would recite, over and over again, gritting his teeth, absolutely resolute in his will to live. Furiously writing down on some torn parchment what had happened, his location and warnings of the powerful presence that lurks within frost-ridden lands, and then throwing into the wind, in the hopes that some other tribe or clan would see it as he gritted his teeth and endured the cold. Isorith, once again, respected such resolve and ingenuity, and though he did not grace this goblin with a speck of his power once again, he ceased the drop in temperature only slightly, curious to see if this little goblin would survive. To Isorith’s dismay, he did not. His letter did eventually reach a village outposted on the outskirts of the tundra, and with that rumors were spread of of this tale, as a warning to all those who would dare venture out into the harsh frost-bound lands, to never be seen as slightly weak in the eyes of Isorith.