About #
Messoraz is known as the god of the Dead
Backstory #
Long ago, in the darkest hour of night, a single flower bloomed. Alone, separate, a black rose opened to the moonlight and was gifted with consciousness. As the rose grew, glistening and smooth, it drank the moon’s half-light with an endless hunger. The rose had no need for daylight and matured with divine speed. However, the blossom was too heavy for the vine it had sprouted from, and it fell to the ground.
The rose withered without the vine’s nutrients, but in death, it found new power. There was no need to chase growth or future because that would be impossible. With no need to gift the soil with its nutrients, and fuel more steps of a useless cycle, the flower shriveled within itself and decided to become something new. As the sun rose, the flower had returned to its former stage of a bud. Green with life, it bloomed, into a white flower.
The bush of roses died, after some time, discluding the white blossom. The rain was infrequent, and foliage nearby began to adapt, reaching towards the sun for nutrients. Due to the lack of rain, multiple species were forced to relocate. A passing family of moose stopped to graze. As the youngest moose bent down, he caught the blossom in his teeth, and its energy surged through him. As he traveled with his parents and brother across hills and valleys, his intelligence set in. An seemingly insatiable desire to connect to the past and hold the future accountable.
By the time his family stopped to graze again, his horns had blossomed and sprouted eyes. His face had grown long, pointed tusks to match his doubled red eyes, devoid of pupils. His fur had greyed and his chest itched like a disease. His family, still harboring the intelligence of ordinary moose, took little notice as they began to travel again. He didn’t want to follow them, and stood up on his hind legs to survey his surroundings.
He began to walk, and walk and walk. His footfalls were silent as he continued to change, sprouting a bony tail and even more horns. Fighting the pain in his right leg and chest, he didn’t stop traveling. After about a day of walking, the sun set. He doubled over from exhaustion, the pain in his right knee was too much. Looking down, a large chunk of skin was missing, but it did not bleed. He willed the pain to leave and it was gone, his exposed bone showed no damage. He lay down to rest, and did not awake for a very long time. When he awoke, he was surrounded in snow. His fur was soaked, but while he was asleep, his body had changed further.
The now black fur from his elbows to his new claws was matted with blood. Looking to his chest, he saw something staring back at him. A single eye, oriented vertically, had spread black veins across his chest. The bottom corner dripped blood down his chest, which was covered by his hands while he’d slept. Frowning, he wiped his hands clean in the snow and admired his new body. It had been less than a day since he’d been a regular moose, and his intelligence seemed to grow with every step as he traveled west.
He didn’t know where he was going, but he felt a pull. An invisible tug that he knew he could resist, but didn’t want to. The journey was versatile as he climbed hills and waded through rivers. He traveled for about another day before stopping to rest. He’d arrived at a village, just as the sun began to set. He counted about 10 small, circular huts; some with lights in their windows and others completely dark. He could sense that whatever pulling him was nearby, but didn’t want to risk being seen. He waited behind a couple of large rocks until every hut was dark except one.
The pull took him past the lit hut, so he proceeded with caution. Visually, he thundered past the house, yet in reality he made no noise. The chiffon curtains hanging from the window barely fluttered as he traveled past. After the village was long behind him, the pull had lessened, and he found himself at the entrance to a graveyard. He felt watched; the lack of sound in the clearing was startling, yet he knew this was where his journey had taken him. He creaked open the rusted gates with a smile, and stepped into the garden of the dead.
He felt another presence as he entered the cemetery, but it wasn’t hostile. More… curious. Placing his steps to seem intimidating, he strode past the various tombstones to where the energy was coming from.
Entering the cemetery, he knew this was where the pull had taken him over all those miles. The graveyard was decaying, with multiple tombstones missing pieces or fallen over, as if a beast had destroyed them during a fit of rage. His ears flicked, catching the slightest rustling of movement to his left. He turned, and strode over, making no sound. The moonlight illuminated what looked to be a deer’s behind, with a long, thin tail that fluffed out at the tip and waved side to side. The creature seemed to breathe quietly, and the once-moose didn’t want to disturb him. The creature turned around, his face of three pale skulls standing out in the darkness.
The creature tearfully introduced himself as Meirkien, and requested the visitor’s name. Flustered, he turned to a nearby grave, and read Messain Oraz, a man who’d died years ago. Reclaiming it as his own name, Messoraz and Meirkien began to chat. They found out they had much in common and were both on a journey to divinity. Meirkien was on the run to escape his brother, Hordoe, after stealing his voice. Messoraz was unsure of his purpose, but felt a strong connection to Meirkien and his desire for a following.
After conversing for hours, bonding, and learning about each other, the sun began to rise. They embraced, then parted ways. Meirkien, before leaving to meet with some of his new followers, told Messoraz that the future held great things for him. The two vowed to meet again whenever possible. Messoraz continued to travel, with no need to eat or drink, and was seemingly invisible to travellers.
After walking for about 3 days, the people he passed began to see him. They didn’t touch the ground, and drifted behind him, forming a crowd. They wailed about wanting to live again, missing loved ones, begging him to let them pass on. He ignored them, yet listened, and soon realized the souls were dead. Nobody he passed could see him or them. Uncaring to the beauty of the world around him, the voices of the spirits constantly plagued his mind.
He finally turned to them and bellowed “What do you want from me?” A tall, thin woman with long, black hair began to speak.
“We were given visions that lead us to you. I was told you could set me and my daughter free.”
Other spirits recounted the same story: A vision of Messoraz, in all his glory, freeing dead spirits and sending them to the afterlife with the help of elected minions. He realized this must have been the great future Meirkien had told him of.
Opening a notebook he’d found during his travels, he asked to hear the woman’s story. She recounted it to him as he recorded it; The telling of her marriage, birth, and passing after a terrible hunting accident. When she’d finished, he took her hands in his claws, and willed her to pass on. She disappeared like smoke, as if she’d never been.
He continued, hearing stories of the spirits that had followed him for differing amounts of time. The general theme to their deaths was malice, pain, anger and sorrow. Not one of the souls had passed peacefully, and all of them had seen a vision of Messoraz. He continued to travel, gathering new crowds of the dead and stopping to release them, for over a year.
He had fully matured when he reached Meirkien’s church. Tall, healthy and weathered by travel, he smirked at the large, elegant building. On its highest spire, he recognized the figure of Meirkien, and called out to him. Meirkien recognized him, and glided down from his perch into Messoraz’s arms. They both stumbled over their words, recounting stories of their time apart, and found their connection to be stronger than ever.
Meirkien explained that souls had been asking him to release them, but he couldn’t help them and felt guilty. He’d heard of Messoraz’s work and invited Messoraz to stay at the church with him, blaming his request for closeness on helping the souls and not emotional attachments. Messoraz gladly accepted, understanding what Meirkien had really meant, and vowed never to leave his side.
Later, Messoraz was settling into his new room when Meirkien entered in a panic. He confessed that he’d wanted Messoraz to stay so that Meirkien could propose to him, Messoraz laughed, startling Meirkien, and replied that he’d suspected it already. Meirkien turned to leave, disappointed, when Messoraz embraced him and explained that he felt the same.
The next week, after they’d bonded and learned more about each other, Messoraz proposed. He presented Meirkien with a single red rose that had grown without thorns. Meirkien gladly accepted. The ceremony was held a few days later, when the stars above had aligned and every follower was able to attend. The procession was beautiful and marked a new era for Meirkien, Messoraz, their new son and their Church.
Messoraz now serves as the God of the Dead, releasing the souls of those who died in malice or peace, to be reborn anew in a gentle afterlife. He enjoys offerings of roses and is especially powerful during nighttime and eclipses. Gifted with divine prophecy of deaths past and future, he’s recorded hundreds of stories, which he stores in our library. If you please him, he may share with you a tale of the past, present, or future. He will not tell you when the story is from, only its contents and morals.
Credit #
Backstory Credit to
AModestEgg
