Ortabok

Ortobak - He of the Mad Eye, Berserker Prince, The Gruesome Embrace, The Merciful Maelstrom
Ortobak was once the god of bureaucracy and administration. He was closely tied to the ruling regime of Lotholam, so much so that the Interior Administration Council was housed in the Villa Ortobak. Even as the bureaucracy became increasingly corrupt and unable to cope with the challenges of governing, Ortobak continued to supply a ceaseless stream of blessings and gifts. In the end, not even the divine Ortobak could protect the city, and it tore itself apart in an orgy of murder and mayhem. For several years Ortobak was silent, leaving his few remaining worshippers without direction. When he did re-emerge he bore little resemblance to the Ortobak of old. His robes were torn and dirty, his beard long and unkempt, his tablets of law discarded. One hand clutched a torch lit from the embers of a dying city, the other a hatchet forged from a murdered king's crown. Ortobak was no longer a being of order.

His core tenets had changed drastically: a desire for stability was replaced with a need for destruction. All things must come to an end. This is a kindness to those left behind, for is it not true that dead trees must be removed so that the forest may prosper? But it is also a kindness to the removed, for what we perceive as the end is only a new beginning. It follows then that Ordobach demands his followers destroy to make way for what may be. This can take many forms: the murder of a bandit, a prince, a farmer - all are equally deserving of annihilation. Perhaps a bridge needs to be burned, a fence needs to be dismantled, or a government needs to be dissolved. Ortobak demands only sudden and violent change. And once that change has occured, Ortobak will not tolerate its return to the previous state. Because of this Ortobak has a special distaste for the undead or any that return from the dead.

Ortobak's teachings have left him a pariah amongst the Gods of Lotholam. His worshippers are no more beloved than their master, and so must keep their faith a closely guarded secret. Meeting under the cover of darkness in abandoned buildings and remote wilderness, the followers of Ortobak gather to listen to the rambling of half mad priests and embibe hallucinatory substances. The message is simple enough: sacred are the annihilated, but even more sacred are the annihilators.