Pyroath Aerogon (4e Deity)

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Pyroath Aerogon the Hero Turned God[edit]



The holy symbol of Pyroath Aerogan is a simple carving of two crossed greatswords hewn of either iron, steel, or mithral.

  • domains: Earth, and his home plane of Ghrraeth, a realm of seething torrents of emerald flame, and little else.


Sword: Pyroath Aerogon's sword is a vessel hewn of glittering ivory astral metal, lined with four edges, and whose pommel is sinuously embraced with tortuous silver and sable chain which twine into a circuitous helix about the weapon's four glittering blades see the death weapon(above). These chains are capable of grinding along the length of the weapon, enabling it to shear through nearly any substance before it with unnatural ease and harsh, lingering cries.

  • Armor: The god's form is hewn of sinuous tendrils that writhe and seethe beneath his will, cloaked only amid shrouds of arcane power, and the calloused scars hewn of centuries, and tempered by divinity.


Pyroath Aerogon was attacked by a rival God, Ghonerith Cerador, a titanic battle that nearly unseated the fragile realm upon which their battle writhed, Pyroath cast into the abyss as his foe nimbly crouched beneath yet another precipitous swing, and thrust his hand into his foe's chest, retracting the God's convulsing heart, and consuming it with repulsive moist bites, adding the power of Pyroath to his own reserve. Yet despite this, Pyroath sundered free of the abyss' frantic grasp, and tore the heart from his foe, then cast him into a Star contrived of the blazing hatred within him, a star that sundered his foe into gleaming motes of golden divinity. Yet to Pyroath's unending dismay, the heart he claimed was lifeless and hewn of dully glinting silver and iron. Within his temple, lurked a foe of unfathomable power, a creature tasked with destroying this upstart god from eons past, his original target the God's ancestor, yet waylaid by a dimensional prison, the creature found itself incapable of completing its task as assigned, and now strode with confidence and vigor lashing and emanating from its form towards Pyroath. The Abyssal Leviathan approaches... In the onset of their titanic battle, Pyroath found himself deigning to request assistance, finding it within the Librarian he accosted and molested several decades past. Nurtured of hate and tempered by intelligence, she had created a spell, etched with rage shaken hands upon tattered parchment. She discovered the secret of ascending into the order of assassins known as the Leviathans, and harnessing the spellplague's power of change, of corruption, of bleakest tumult, she formed a titanic form, she became a Leviathan. Despite her undying hatred, she found an irrefrangible, unerring honor within Pyroath, and casting aside the knotted vipers of anguish and rage that held her so long within their spindly grasp, she cast both warriors into a single form, merging herself and Pyroath into the behemoth: Pyroath Knoaeron. She then swept a massive hand towards the silvery ship, the vessel hewn of magic and writhing with power that was Pyroath's temple, forming its resplendent contours into a knotted shield and powerful sword, sending ivory tendrils into an intricate display across the Levithan-God's form, arches lancing from wrists only to merge with the muscled flesh several centimeters before his elbow, and along these creations lanced silvery tendrils of lightning, and undulating currents of flame. This creature easily smote aside the titanic assassin's meager blade, and plunged its own into the creature's chest, releasing a powerful surge of energy from its tip, and sundering the creature's chest into fragmented motes of scarlet muscle and pale flesh, which drifted morosely to the awaiting embrace of Earth. Extending a hand, he drew the monster's essence into his own form, dividing himself from the molested Librarian as twinning helices of luminescent crimson and azure plunged into the calloused crevasses and knots thereupon. Despite himself, the God was forced onto a plane of existence undeniably dissimilar from his own, a plane populated by the same Levithan-God abominations as himself. He was alone, a shard of water upon the roiling expanse of ocean, a breath into the gale, a star on the heavens...

Chapter II[edit]

Yet Ghonerith refused to be slain, and charged with an unfading vigor from the abyss, his willpower aggregating himself into a bipedal form, whose shimmering contours where hewn of ragged diamond shards, and blazing with an unnatural light as the Sun's golden splendor was depicted on each scale and in every silver facet. His swift charge carried him upon its powerful tides as his muscles coiled and writhed, propelling his hand past Pyroath's desperate defense, and punching free of the God's back, amid a scarlet cloud each globule of which glinted morosely in the ambient silver light that suffused Pyroath's new domain, one mote of silver amid a sea of diamond, a tainted shard of a flawless vessel, a paradise rent asunder, yet the fates failed Ghonerith this day, for Pyroath, despite his grievous wounds -whose ragged contours extended across now bare chest and punched free of his knotted shoulder blade, spires of twisted ivory glinting within their scarlet prison as light was captured upon bony knots and liquid facets- extended his powers, his knotted five strands of DNA roiling about with anguished ardor within his cells, as his gesture rent forth a sable portal behind his foe, and surging forth he cast Ghonerith into the awaiting maw, the rivial god's hand extending in helpless fear as he collapsed into the ebony depths whose stygian expanse closed like a titanic maw as he descended.

Chapter III[edit]

Confused, lost, alone to the world the God of Celebration: Aeolioth sent his own form in its purest state against Pyroath, and in his folly the deity devoted solely to the art of celebration, fell; and shortly thereafter began the battle with a second foe: Bess Carita. Teleporting to her plane, and merging in both power and aspects the God-Leviathan Pyroath Aerogon, and his familiar: Lucan slew the creature, and consuming her heart both ascended ever farther into the heavens, shattering her domain behind them.

Chapter IV[edit]

Blocked at every turn, Pyroath Aerogon faces the wrath of a thousand thousand spurned Gods; a sea of darkness lead by Thenrae'Vercasis, the Lord of Chaos, and Thenrae'Vercasis; steam hisses from gaping maw, and retreating a pace, the weary Lord of Flame leans upon his titanic blade, chest heaving and brow sodden with perspiration, each haggard breath carrying with it faint motes of dark ichor. Yet no less does resolve blaze within his smouldering eyes as hefting the blade of titans, he rises again, lunging into the fray with a deafening cry upon his lips and a cloak of flame upon his shoulders. With a bellow of wrath, the titan of flame cast aside his cumbersome sword, sheathing instead his fist in tendrils of heat and lightning, a blinding gauntlet that empowered his devastating blow as surging beyond the slender Lord of Chaos' guard, he thrust fist of iron deep into armored face; bone and flesh pulverized before the strike that could sunder worlds and quench stars; and lifelessly, the Lord of chaos collapsed, his ruined skull grating against the craggy stone that composed Pyroath's realm as the hero of old brought armored sole upon crushed scalp, flattening the creature's head and spilling its dull ichor to the embrace of knotted stone. Drawing again his blade of titans, the Lord of Flame leaned heavily upon the crutch of steel, both hands folded atop its pommel as he sighed, bloodlust fading from his eyes as darkness again consumed all, and eagerly, the monster awaited his next battle... Gazing into the hordes before him, Pyroath raised high open hands of bronze and steel, flames flickering like faeries of starlight between his fingers as he summons portal of darkness above the battle, then lunging upon his trailing foot, he punches once into its depths, the force that birthed this universe and all the gods in it, far outweighed by the strength of his single blow which flattens all amid a deafening crack that falls unheard upon deaf void; all those arrayed to battle the rogue god collapsing in pool of vile ichor, bone splintering like ill forged glass crunched beneath armored sole. Yet from this morass rose dark frame slander and rippling with magical power: Thenrae'Vercasis rising like angel of death from the sea of ichor and bone, his fists shimmering with blades of silver flame; sterling vipers that coiled so affectionately about his forearm; interlocking plates of grey steel hissing with each motion, steam rising like vengeful spirits with each movement as he charged, fist raised in measureless wrath, and cry of utmost hatred erupting from his lips. but his fist of iron met only void as the rogue god weaved aside, driving his cursed sword into the man's ribs amid a harsh crack; its many chains burning through the god's flesh. Yet still Thenrae'Vercasis did not fall, the cries of so many innocent fallen to this man's blade, the tears of so many mothers burying their children who fell beneath the banner of those who dared fight the Lord of Flame as he took land and life with equal apathy. Pain was forgotten as wrath burned like tongues of heaven's light behind his silver pupils as he again rose, yet only again did he fall as chest cracked beneath his foe's power. The memory of his father, of A.O Lord of Creation flashed before his bleary eyes as steamed hissed from his gaping maw; the herald to a torrent of pale ichor. This man, this rogue mortal turned god, and rapidly advanced upon the realm of gods, and to protect his children, the most powerful of all gods, the father of creation, A.O had drawn his holy blade against the threat. Bur t his power was not enough; the might of A.O failed in the face of this truest of darkness, and with a single blow, Pyroath had stolen the life from his father. New fires burned within his eyes of molten silver, and leaping to his feet, he again met the Lord in combat, the limbs of both vanishing into blurred trails of light and sound as they struck with unholy force; great thunderous wails like the multivoiced cry of the Almighty himself echoing forth as they battled, matching each other blow for blow as the song of their impact rang silent into the void, broad tendrils of flame creasing the darkness with each stride as he advanced, matching his adversary and using hatred and hatred alone to hold aloft his wounded frame. Yet hate was not enough to defeat the man who would consume all creation with his dark flame; and as he struck again the man's forearm, Pyroath simply twisted in beneath the devastating blow; his mighty hand punching through his adversary's chest and closing fingers of steel atop the god's throbbing heart which pulsed madly within his heaving chest. Vomiting pool of pale ichor, he collapsed to his knees, both hands closing feebly around his foe's wrist as fingers of steel tore through his flesh and pulled the heart from its bony tomb. Raising his vanquished foe's heart to his lips, the warrior swallowed whole the pulsing organ, feasting upon its strength and grinning as new power surged through his veins. All of creation would fall to his ashen flame; all of life would kneel before him or collapse beneath his almighty blade. Standing amid the pool of steam that wrapped the battlefield within ashen arms, he exhaled softly, grey steel shimmering on his arms as he drew forearm of sterling across his bloodied lips, wiping away the traces of the child of A.O as he gazed into the horizon.

Full story[edit]

One man ascended to the heavens
One mortal threw down heaven’s kings
One blade to cleave the darkness
One hand to light the way
One flame to warm mankind
One flame to unite them all
One flame to slay them.

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