The Deep Saint

Fallen Messiah, beloved Goddess, love her, worship her

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“Born to mortal womb seeded with divine light, the Morning Saint (Morgen Heilige) strode the world trailing stars in her grand veil. Where she went, the best of man bloomed forth. Where she worked, the wonders of the world unearthed. Where she slept, dreams sprung forth like sweet springwater.”

“… And then the Morning Saint met a man, and she learned to love one more than any other… Rhodragan, greatest of thieves. He loved her so that when she remarked on the beauty of the moon, he found a way to pluck it from the sky, though he was but a man. When she saw what he had done, she shamed him, and forced him to return the beauty that was meant for all to the sky. But when the deed was done and the moon was back in the sky, she kissed him sweetly, for she loved him all the more for it.”

“The Gods, seeing that their Saint tarried, were displeased. They did not understand. They did not want to understand. So they smote Rhodragan and hurried his soul off to the Deep before the Morning Saint could coax him back to life.”

“Despair, passion, rage, darkness, all this and more encroached upon the Morning Saint’s heart, and she became the Mourning Saint (Trauer Heilige). She railed against the Gods, yelling to the Heavens, asking why they would do this to her, yet they had no answer for her but to tell her to continue to walk the world. She did. And where she went, war followed. Where she worked, the hate in men’s hearts was spindled out like so much thread. Where she slept, not even the innocent were saved from nightmares.

“But the Mourning Saint was not blind to the woe she brought with her. She cried, for she remembered how she loved all those she brought pain upon. If she were to stop the horrors she trailed, she would need to defy the Gods and plunge into the Deep after the one she loved. She went into the mountains, walking until she was truly alone, and once she was certain that no living thing was in ear shot, she began to speak of the Deep. And as she spoke, the waters of the Deep rose all around her drop by drop. She spoke for hours and hours, until her voice cracked and she could speak no more. The water had only risen to her heels. If she were to descend into the Deep, down to where Rhodragan was, she would need more power.”

“She rose an army of thieves and downtrodden against the Heavens, and one by one she consumed the Gods. Knowledge, Life, Trickery, Nature, War, Death, and the Tempest all fell. But as she approached the final ring of the Heavens, to Highfather Aldvin in his domain of Light, the Highfather flew from his ring and stole the soul of Rhodragan from the Deep and placed him in the closest ring of the Light. To consume the Light would consume her lover, and thus the Mourning Saint could encroach no further. Bit by bit she was beaten back by the Light Faithful, driven back to Bréigh. And as her armies were fought back, the Faithful of the Light set flame to the world. She knew that if she were to stay, the world would die. With nowhere else to go, she retreated to the Deep, taking the place where her love had once resided.”

“She drank from the waters of the Deep, letting it fill and infuse her, making it her Domain. And she swore that from the depths, she would find the Heir of Rhodragan, the next greatest of thieves, and steal her lover’s soul back and bring the Light down for all the peoples of the world. Thus the Deep Saint (Tief Hielige) was born.”

The Deep Saint

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