Naistre

## Alignment:

Naistre fiercely believes in bringing what is due to those who do wrong, righting what they set awry, therefore they are considered Chaotic Neutral. Laws and traditions are never crucial where immense suffering must be set right.

## Likes and Dislikes:

Likes: Dedication, Nature, Bluntness

Dislikes: Senseless Violence, Betrayal, Evildoers

## Tenets:

Every Transgression Must Be Paid in Equal Measure.

Let No Wrong Go Unpunished, Let No Criminal Rest Easy

Through Hardship and Dedication, One Can Find Salvation

## Depictions/Concepts:

* Guilty individuals see Naistre wearing the bodies of those that were victims of said individuals.
* Those on the path of renewal will encounter Naistre in dreams of beautiful sceneries, mostly forested groves, where peace is overwhelming.
* Statues depicting Naistre show them as a chameleon with parts of different animals or a humanoid with mismatched limbs

## Personality:

Naistre is a vengeful entity, that is for certain. They keep counts of grudges, note down any insults and monitor their enemies closely. There is an intensity about them. Everything they do or say carries a lot of energy, barely restrained emotion that is ready to burst at any moment given the right trigger. Some could describe them as neurotic, easily bursting with anger and hatred, only to reel it back as soon as a change in circumstances arises. Perhaps it is due to being so ruled by emotion that Naistre is very empathetic towards those who suffer. They still stay firmly in the fact that all wrongs must be punished, but that doesn’t keep them away from being quite kind and compassionate when they can be. As a god who watches over the depth of a person’s soul, they are deeply insightful to the degree that some followers of Naistre believe that they see right through any lie told to them.

Due to their aforementioned neurotic nature, Naistre can be perceived as fickle and easily swayed. However it is due to this sway from forgiving to vengeful that they become a clearer reflection of the mortal soul and its ever shifting facets. It is therefore not uncommon to have people pray to two vastly different interpretations of Naistre, entirely dedicated to Retribution or Renewal and not as a representation of both.

## Stories:

Tales surrounding Naistre and their followers generally center around revenge, retribution and dramatic turns from evil to good, good to evil. There are no half measures in these stories. Wrongs must be punished accordingly, revenge must be enacted unless the perpetrator decides to turn their life around. There are tales of great criminals who become virtuous priests dedicated to the God of Renewal.

It is due to this that there are two very different stories that primarily get spread about Naistre. A tale of viscous vengeance and a tale of glorious healing.

First, the tale of retribution. Amongst the circles of Naistre’s followers, some whisper about a time when Naistre was not a patron of Retribution, but they watched over Renewal alone. They favored nature and were said to be beyond compassionate to anyone, no matter the crimes they may have committed. They loved all mortals, adored them even and could not imagine that anything would change that…

Unfortunately something would. It was back in the days when Naistre's gaze was focused on a particular society of jungle dwelling kobolds. The kobolds revered nature, doing their utmost to work alongside it and live kind, morally good lives. They did not worship Naistre directly, simply followed the philosophy of righting wrongs and trusting the ways of nature. All things come to an end though, as their little community was a little too peaceful… a little too effective. In the game of life, all good things come with a price. Naistre's perfect community would one day be stained by blood as a kobold returned from a hunt brutally mauled and barely alive. The trail of blood left by him would lead to the village’s undoing as it allowed a handful of humans and orcs to find the small community. The stories paint this group as entirely evil, savage individuals with no cause, but a desire for destruction. Some even claim them to be followers of Porshunano. Whatever the case may be, the group invaded, slaughtering any kobolds they found in their way, bathing the peaceful community in blood. As Naistre’s beloved mortals were slaughtered, a new feeling boiled inside them. A feeling of rage and hatred which grew and grew before all that remained of Naistre’s compassion transformed into a primal desire for vengeance. When only a few kobolds remained and the attackers lurked outside, taunting them, the forest itself seemed to shift. The wind howled, as vines and brushes coiled around mauled bodies and dragged them together into one amalgamation of horror and pain. Every killed kobold was pulled into one, nature coiling around them into the shape of a lizard-like entity which towered over the attackers. Its screech was a scream of agony and hatred, all targeted at those who dared to invade this peaceful town. The monstrous horror threw itself at the attackers, ripping and tearing and crushing until their gore only added to the blood that stained this once perfect place. When the last human and the last orc fell, the wind soothed and the creature grew still. It stumbled into the middle of the town and there, it coiled up tight as the foliage that covered it began to blossom and grow. By the time the remaining kobolds emerged from their hiding spot, a giant tree stood in the middle of their village where the monstrous creature once was. The trunk was covered with the names of every single kobold who died in the senseless attack and when the wind caught in its branches sang out with their soft, soothing voices to any who would stop to listen. From that day forward, Naistre understood hate and anger, driven to make sure any who caused such grief faced suitable retribution.

Now, the story of renewal. It is the tale of a mercenary, devoid of morality and kindness. No job was too hard or too gruesome and his services were sought after by all sorts of criminal minds. He was quite good at his job too, earning a fair amount of coin to fuel a life of hedonism and indulgence. He had everything he ever wanted and the horrors of what he had done were drowned out in drink.

While spending a night at a rather expensive tavern, the mercenary was approached by a mysterious figure adorned in fine green fabrics and jewelry. They were tall and lithe, moving with a grace that he had never witnessed before. When he looked upon their face however, he was stumped, as his mind could not pinpoint any clear features. They certainly had a face, one that was lizard-like in nature he thought, but he could not commit any details of it to memory. That thought was brushed aside quickly as the man was presented with a large bag of coins for a job. He was to delve into an abandoned dungeon, once the site of a bloodthirsty cult, and retrieve an artifact hidden within. A petrified heart inscribed with magical symbols. Of course, the mercenary agreed and was quick to head out in search of the dungeon and its hidden treasures, unaware that the person he just spoke to vanished out of sight in an instant.

The dungeon was found easily and the mercenary descended deep into the earth where it seemed as though no one had walked for a long time. Not even monsters dared to wander this deep. It felt like a fruitless endeavor until by what seemed to be sheer confidence, he turned into the right chamber. A cylindrical room with a pedestal in the middle of it upon which lay a mummified heart with engraved symbols that the stranger mentioned. That was the Artifact he came for. He approached and confidently snatched up the heart, just to find the symbols upon it lit up with a sickly green light. A cacophony of screams filled his mind, screams familiar to him, screams of people he hurt before. There were dozens of them, all in a painful chorus that forced him onto his knees. The heart in his hand began to beat, slow at first, but soon it became a rapid, uneven beat that almost caused him to drop it. The beating of the heart changed and adjusted until it matched his own…

Who knows what exactly happened next, but the more gruesome versions of the tale describe how the illusions of the mercenary’s victims arose from the ground and ripped his chest open to replace his true heart with the strange mummified artifact. He was, of course, alive throughout the entire event.

Upon coming to again, the mercenary found himself plagued by visions of his victims. One after another they came to him, each one making him experience every single bit of pain he forced onto them. Emotional or physical, all of their suffering was forced onto him to live through. Naistre had decided his sentence already. He would suffer the same as all of his victims and then die a fruitless, lonely and empty death. Yet as the last of his victims emerged to deal the final blow, a stillness filled the air. The man whispered an apology, not one produced out of pain and suffering, but one from newfound empathy. He then closed his eyes, ready for whatever fate was to come for him next. The final blow would never come however, as the man found himself in silence afterwards. The spirits were momentarily gone and while he lay on the cold stone ground of the cylindrical room, it became apparent that the god was ready to give him a chance. While he carried the artifact inside him, he could begin a path towards betterment, towards fixing what he had done wrong.

The mercenary later emerged from the dungeons a very changed man, marred with scars he had once inflicted on his victims and with a newfound connection with guilt and remorse. He left his sword at the gate and wandered off into the world, the spirit of his last victim flickering in the corner of his eye now and then to remind him of the fate that awaited him if his remorse was no longer genuine.