Boy have I. My cleric's in a homebrew setting, so the DM gave me carte blanche to establish the pantheon, the clergy, how it all works, etc. He gave me the framework and then let me basically run wild. Between us we outlined the deities, the roles they play (so, if you're a War Cleric, who you're likely to be worshiping) -- and each deity has multiple 'aspects,' which allows for different alignments to follow different aspects of the same deity (so a Conquest Paladin and a War Cleric could follow the same deity, but one would be focused on active warfare and order and conflict, and the other be focused on tactics and minimizing loss of life).
The most fleshed out one is obviously the one my cleric is in -- I made him a Fertility Cleric, which is pretty much a Life Cleric but with a bit of a Druid vibe -- they're not just concerned with the life of sentient creatures, but all life, so it's very neutral 'well our god is the god of those locusts too, so what're you gonna do?' but also with sex jokes. But we've got the organizational structure of the faith as a whole, the temples (a flexible system so that if there are only 2 people running a temple in the middle of nowhere they can still get the basics done, or we have a rough idea of what services they can provide, versus one of the big temples in a major city), what services they provide -- the fertility clerics run 'halls of healing' which also function as hostels, and take in any unwanted children, no questions asked; however it's the forge clerics who run the schools.
There are definitely areas where we haven't filled everything in. We established that if you follow the Fertility deity, then you're basically agreeing to be dragged back to life if they need you for something, but we also... never really established what happens/where you go when you die. The Fertility clerics tend to just ...ignore it. Which is why the Grave clerics have no patience for them.
It's also very internal, I guess? The DM and I know all this and have documents on it, but everyone else only know the bits and pieces that come up, which isn't much, because it's not a proselytizing religion, and has a low presence in the region the campaign is in versus where my PC is from. Our Paladin follows a completely different pantheon, and I know pretty much nothing about it. I'm not even sure if it's an original one or just the dwarven pantheon.
Let me first get the obvious statement out of the way: Its really going to be something you work out with your DM.
That said, I'd start with what they're the god of, first making sure that that niche isn't already filled by an existing god in the pantheon. I'd come up with 2-3 domains for them, and a name, maybe a title, if that's how things roll in you campaign. Mechanically, that's probably all you really need, it technically is probably even more than you need, in terms of making the deity functioning for game rules purposes.
A lot of the rest is going to depend on how much RP there is in your game. If you're just dungeon-crawling hack and slash, then you won't need much detail. But if there' more RP, I'd get into things like, is there a formal church hierarchy; what is the holy symbol; how common is the religion; what do the shrines/temples look like and are they typically staffed, are there favored colors, weapons, animals, flowers, etc; what are your religion's feeling towards other faiths, probably on a faith-by-faith basis. That could probably get you through most situations. You could add in some more flavor, like holidays, quirks like dietary, clothing or other sorts of restrictions. What kinds of behaviors are considered virtuous vs. sinful.
And if you really want to go deep, you can start all the way back, like how and when was the god created, and what's this religion's role been throughout history.
For our last campaign my first character "left" the campaign at level nine, so I continued the campaign from that point with a white dragonborn grave cleric. I love backstory. Backstory is the best part of character creation, imho. So I created his home village, the local climate, the culture, their relationships with the nearby dwarves, and of course their pantheon of gods.
Here's the character's backstory, for reference:
Greetings. I would love to share the backstory of my current character, Viktor Gavriil, the white dragonborn Grave Cleric. Viktor is about six and a half feet tall, with a barrel chest, thick limbs, and a rather menacing appearance. He's actually a really nice guy, once you get to know him. And he's not like a snow-white white dragonborn. He's more of a gloomy gray, with darker lines under his beady little yellow eyes. His scales darken toward his extremities, so much that his fingers and toes are nearly completely black, a remnant of frostbite. But we'll get to that.
So here goes...
(imagine the following being spoken in a really terrible deep russian accent)...
Privet, druz'ya. I am Viktor. I come from frozen wasteland in distant north, on other side of the world. Small village near coast, where waters were frozen half the year. We survived by fishing, hunting, whaling, and doing trade with the Borean Dwarves in mine two days east. They used whale blubbers for their machines. I don't know how, or why, but they paid well and would buy all we could bring. I once traded small cask of this blubbers for a good shield and spear. They're good people.
I was hunter. My job to keep village fed. Not easy in long dark winters. A curse on Zamorozhnneyy! Where I am from, he is God of Winter. He is miserable prick. Cruel, distant, unrelenting bastard, he is. I never much minded the gods back then. Of course, we all said thanks to Topka, goddess of the hearth, when family met for meal. We said toast to Khodosnovy, god of brewing and distilling, when raising our mugs of vodka or piva. We had to acknowledge Vishcha, god of wealth and mining, when doing trades with the Boreans. And we would curse and spit the name of the Blyedd when we were cheated. She was goddess of dark secrets. A real see-you-next-tuesday, if you know what I mean. The only remaining god I'll get to in a minute. But in day to day life, the gods were just words. Stories. Someone to blame sh-t on.
One year, winter came early. Our long hunting trip south to the taiga forests was cut short by the snows. We got home to find waters already frozen and village half deep in snow. But this was life. We know the cold. We settled in for long winter. But winter was longer and colder than any before. After some months, village began to run low on food, and on fuel for fires. When wood ran out we had to burn valuable whale oil. A real shame. When that was gone we were reduced to burning our own sh-t for light and heat. But we weren't eating enough so we weren't sh-tting enough to provide enough fuel. A few died. The old, the young, the weak. This is normal. This keeps tribe strong. Is the natural way of things. But still it seemed unfair. Not really their time, I thought, since this was more a curse than a winter.
One day, after many months of this, weather suddenly cleared. I grabbed my spear and ran! Animals had all gone south months before, but I had to find meat for village. I had just gotten over the first hills, just out of sight of village, when the storm returned even stronger than before. That was when I knew, this was Zamorozhnneyy f#@&ing with me. I tried to turn back, but could not find my way in the storm. Wind so strong I could barely stand. Snow and ice tearing at my face. My fingers and toes freezing, then hot, then nothing. For days this went on. I would burrow into snow for shelter from wind, and to find some of the hard lichens on the rocks beneath. Weeks. Lost. Frozen. I know you probably think that white dragons cannot freeze, but trust me... we can. It just takes very long time. And this winter was very long.
One day, frozen, starving, exhausted, I collapse. Is then that he appeared to me. Kurgan, the God of Death. Now, I know many of you think death is a bad thing, and it scares you, and your gods of death are all evil and whatever, but that is not the way of Kurgan. We call him Grandfather. We know that death is just another part of the natural order. The next step of the journey. And Kurgan is the one who is always there with us. He is quiet, he is fair, and he is inevitable. You see, there is no need to lie or cheat or steal when you are inevitable. He treats all the same. Rich, poor, tall, short, dwarf, elf... all the same to Kurgan, because all die.
I stand and face him. "Grandfather...." He asks me, "Are you ready?" I suddenly feel a fire in my chest. "NO!", I yell at him. "This is not my time! You know it! This is your brother, Zamorozhnneyy, f#@&ing with me!" Grandfather smiles a bit. Is a strange thing to see Death smile. "You know when is your time?", he asks. I tell him, "No. But I know is not now." Grandfather looks at me. Through me. Tells me he is impressed with how long I have survived the storm. Tells me he may have job for me. I ask what is job. He says, "You will go out into the world. You will find those whose time has come, and you will send them to me. You will find those whose time has not come, and protect them." I tell him, "Grandfather, I am simple hunter. I do not know how to do this job." He raises an arm and points off into the storm. "Go that way. If you survive, you will find town. In town you will find temple. In temple you will find priest. He will train you."
I run. I don't even respond. Just run the way he pointed. Cannot feel legs or face, but just knowing the way to go gives me strength. All day, all night, by next day I find a town. I must be many miles south by now. On edge of town, by the burial mounds, I find temple. A solid looking building of dark timber make. Pushing open large door I collapse inside. The soft warmth of a fire. The smell of meat and sweat and books. A dwarf in dark gray robes stands over me. Says he has been expecting me. I ask him, "How can you be expecting a stranger you never met?" He says, "Grandfather came to me in a dream two nights ago. Says he is sending me someone. Is must be you." So this must be priest. His name was Borgund. He was a dwarf of the mountains, not a Borean like those back home. For the next three years I am at temple. Working, studying, learning the ways of life and death. Dwarf say it usually only take two years, but I need three because I am not fast learner. Finally, one day, dwarf come to me and say, "Okay. Training is done. Go do your job." I say him, "You know, this is kind of a big job. And world is big place... where do I begin?" He tells me, "Go as far as you can. Go to other side of the world. Work your way back."
So I gather my things. My armor and shield that I got from the Boreans for blubbers. My pack of priest stuff like candles and salves and med kits. And I go to the coastal town just to the south. I have a few coins that people had given me for healings, so I buy passage on boat. I go as far as boat goes. Get on another boat, go as far as boat goes, and so on. I earn my way on each boat by fishing to help feed crew, and by healing the scurvy. I am good at fishing. I am okay at healing. Finally, after many weeks on many boats we land at a city. A huge city. I did not know such places existed in this world. Crew mate says city is called Waterdeep. I head ashore with a sack full of dried fish and a job to do.
Of course there is no temple to Kurgan in this new land. I find large place called The Plinth, where many gods are worshiped. "Worship". That is a strong word. I do not think I "worship" Kurgan. I work for him. Worship is word for children and old women. What it that? Singing songs? Psshh. What am I to Death? What does he need songs for? If I do not sing will he stop taking us? Will we live forever? Yerunda. I don't think so. Besides, "worship" is word people use when they don't really know what to do, so they pray, thinking that counts as something. I know what to do. I have faced my god and spoken to him personally. He told me what to do. He did not say to pray. He said to work. So I meet people at Plinth and get job in part of city called "City of the Dead". Sounds like good place to start. I keep graves maintained, as sign of respect for the dead. But also we keep close watch for the occasional undead things. Undeads is a violation of the natural order. Kurgan teaches us to live every day like it's your last, because it might be. But when it is your time, it is your time. You go. Kurgan is patient, but he is inevitable. Undeads are an offense that must be wiped out. Turns out, I am pretty good at that.
After a year or so keeping watch in City of the Dead, and maintaining the graves, and doing some healings in the Southern Ward for spare coins, I learn about big problem facing the region. There is some new cult that worships some old demon-fish-god thing. They are poisoning waters and stealing people and dragging them into the ocean to turn them into undead demon-fish-people. So in Southern Ward I meet group of people, adventurers. They say they are heading out to fight this new menace. I join them. There was a dwarf who was strong with an axe, there was woman who could control waters and could turn into fierce animals, and there was a wizard. A real elf wizard. The four of us spent the next year and a half journeying up and down Sword Coast, killing undead things, helping people and towns protect themselves, and following clues to this demon-fish-god cult. Their symbol is a starfish with an eye in the center. Is really creepy. Makes people have nightmares, makes them cut out their own tongues, makes them go insane and attack and kill anyone around them.
We were doing pretty good. Learning a lot, helping a lot, getting closer and closer to finding the demon-fish cult. Wizard nearly died, twice. He was powerful wizard, but not strong in the body. I had to protect him especially. He was the smart one who followed the clues. He learns that cult has a sunken temple in city to the south, called Baldur's Gate. Says there is creature there, called Aboleth. Says the cult worships it. We head south to find sunken temple and kill it. But by the time we get to Baldur's Gate we find city is recovering from great calamity. Turns out, another group of adventurers had killed the aboleth just the day before. Is good that it's dead, but still we wished we could have done it. Is then that wizard decides to leave group and head back to home in place called Lothen, in a great forest.
So I return to Waterdeep. Over the next year I assist with a new temple being built. Is temple to a new saint called Bevin. Apparently he was a priest who helped that other group kill the aboleth and its cult followers, and died in the process. I don't know all the details, but people say he was great guy. So I help out with building and lifting and healing people and cooking in soup kitchen for poor and so on.
Is one day I am in temple just resting, lighting candle to Kurgan, and I meet a guy named Adams. He is elf, or part elf at least. Is some kind of music sorcerer. Turns out, he was part of the group that knew Bevin and killed aboleth. I tell him I am impressed. He says aboleth was not the demon-fish-god thing. It was just a pawn in a bigger war. Cult is still out there. Still much to be done. He says his group didn't just lose Bevin, they also lost a sorcerer who turned on the party and betrayed them to a devil. Says he was a dragonborn named Ikram Sahir. Says he was a brass. I tell him he should not have trusted someone from a desert anyhow. So I offer my help.
He leads me to Silver Street, where his group owns a house. Well, the tiefling of the group owns it. She is assassin, named Shadow. Is not her real name, I think. There is also ranger, a blue dragonborn, so that is good. And they have an elf wizard, too! He is a snooty little der'mo, but is good in a fight. There is also creepy little girl who can summon weapons and creatures and things, and a druid elf lady.
Group says they need a healer. They have had many tough battles, and really need a healer. I tell them, "I am Viktor. I work for Kurgan, the God of Death. He tells me to find those whose time has come and send them to him, to find those whose time has not come and protect them. You help me do job, and kill undead things, and I will heal you. You get in my way, and maybe you meet Kurgan."
. . . . .
Well... that was several years ago. We have had many adventures since then. Too many to even tell you about here. I even founded a new temple to Kurgan, called "The Temple of Last Resort" in city called Neverwinter. We have nearly wiped out the cult. We have fought a dragon, bargained with a marid, traveled to the Hells and back, and saved the entire city of Waterdeep from a plague of slaad creatures. We are nearly done. Just one thing left to do. To kill a mind flayer creature that is trying to turn itself into a lich. It may have already succeeded. Whether it has or not, we will kill it. Kurgan commands it.
If I survive the battle, I think I will retire to my temple and spend my years healing the sick, feeding the hungry, and teaching people that death is not something to be feared. But, if is my time, if Kurgan comes for me in the battle, I will go. I am on borrowed time as it is. I trust that he will be fair, and that what must happen will happen. Whether sooner or later, He is inevitable. One day he will come for me again, and I will not protest. I will gladly climb aboard the wagon for a ride over the hills to the Summer Village, where an eternity of work, and joy, and feasting awaits.
Proshchal'nyy privet.
Viktor Gavriil. 20th level white dragonborn grave cleric of Kurgan.
So to create the pantheon of gods in that area, I started with what facets of life are important to them. This was a village of white dragonborn living a rather primitive existence in an arctic environment along a frozen coastline. They hunt and fish for food. They make most of what they need and sometimes barter with dwarves in a mine some distance away. Life is difficult and death is always present. But death is not some abstract scary evil thing, as it is often perceived in so many cultures. Rather, death is calm, quiet, and fair. It waits to greet all of us and to lead us into whatever comes next.
So, anyway, here's the rundown as best as I can remember right now. (I don't have that paperwork in front of me at the moment and I'm too lazy to look for it, sorry):
Zamorozhnneyy - god of winter and suffering. He is a miserable prick. Cruel, unrelenting, and vengeful. He hates everyone and everything. No one prays to him, because he would simply mock you for it and bring you even more suffering. His name is invoked as a curse, mostly. He is also the younger brother of Death.
Topka - goddess of the hearth. Topka is a woman of tremendous physical and emotional strength. She is the one who binds us all together as a society. She teaches us to look after each other and she reminds us of our obligations. Her lessons are tough but fair. Most everyone says thanks to Topka when the family gathers together for a meal. (Also, for what it's worth, she bears a striking resemblance to actress Mariska Hargitay.)
Vishcha - god of mining and crafting. This was originally a deity of the Borean dwarves in the eastern mines that has been adopted into the white dragon pantheon through cultural interaction. He is a maker of strange objects of metal and stone, weapons stronger than any the dragonborn can make, lanterns that burn throughout the night. The dragonborn often trade whale oil and blubber to the dwarves in exchange for some of these useful items. Vishcha's name is invoked in these trade deals.
Khodosnovy - god of brewing and distilling. He taught us to make the drinks that light the fires in your belly on the coldest of nights. He is also a god of extremes, basically a bipolar deity. He can be friendly and jovial, and then suddenly angry and violent. He can be happy and cheerful and then suddenly paranoid and depressed. He has some of the crafting skills of Vishcha, but specifically geared toward the craft of making drinks. He brews the beer that families share during a holiday meal, but he also brews the poisons that the Blyadd uses to murder her victims. You never know what to expect when Khodosnovy shows up, but you know it won't be dull.
The Blyadd - the goddess of dark secrets. That's not her real name, because to speak her real name out loud would be to invite her assassins to hunt you down. She is evil and treachery incarnate. She delights in discovering the weaknesses of people and using those weaknesses against them. She is beautiful and cunning, with powerful enchantment magic at her disposal. Her lies are laced with the sweetest pleasures, but always end up being poisonous. She laughs at your pain.
And finally... the one above them all...
Kurgan - the god of death. Kurgan represents inevitability and is the personification of death. He is quiet, patient, and fair. It doesn't matter if you are tall or short, rich or poor, peasant or king, all are equal in his eyes because all will inevitably die. Even the dragons, liches, other deities, mountain ranges, even the very stars themselves will all eventually succumb to his inexorable embrace. The performance of his duties throughout the enormity of deep immortality has given him a rather poignant and benevolent attitude toward mortals that could almost have been considered "compassionate" had it not been for all those countless eons of watching those poor mortals die. When it is your time, it is your time. Kurgan will greet you with his doleful eyes and humbly usher you forward toward whatever comes next.
At some point during our last campaign my character, Viktor, had amassed enough gold to build a small temple to Kurgan in Neverwinter. Over time the temple grew. I have the plans drawn out on graph paper, but nothing I can post here unfortunately. Well, followers of Kurgan focus on respecting the dead and the process of death, which can mean anything from caring for graveyards and cemeteries, to offering assistance to people in hospice or on the verge of passing, to combating hordes of undead - since undeath is a violation of the natural order that Kurgan represents. His temples back home on the Frozen Shores were simple stone cairns around which we would gather to say our final words before sending someone who has died off into the waters. The temple in Neverwinter is an octagonal stone building two stories tall. On entering you cross over a small bridge under which is a small pool of water, into which it is customary to toss a coin or two. Then through a set of double doors and down a flight of stairs, so the actual temple is below ground level. In the center of the room is a round altar piled with ash into which you stick a lit candle in remembrance of one who has passed, or to beg Kurgan to release a dying person from their suffering. Benches line the outer walls of the room, with thick black curtains between them, providing a bit of privacy for anyone who seeks to be alone with their prayers, or who wishes to partake in grief counselling offered by the priests of Kurgan.
For a year and a half I've been halfheartedly jotting notes about this topic and someday I'd love to write a book about it. I've got the entire afterlife designed (the Summer Villages), and some ideas that tie into the ending of our last campaign. Maybe, someday. It's more of a dream than a hobby at the moment. But, whether or not I ever get around to finishing it I know at least one thing that is inevitable. . . . Kurgan.
Tayn of Darkwood. Lvl 10 human Life Cleric of Lathander. Retired.
Ikram Sahir ibn Malik al-Sayyid Ra'ad, Second Son of the House of Ra'ad, Defender of the Burning Sands. Lvl 9 Brass Dragonborn Sorcerer + Greater Fire Elemental Devil.
Viktor Gavriil. Lvl 20 White Dragonborn Grave Cleric, of Kurgan the God of Death.
So far I've come up with a background for the deity, but not their portfolio.
So far I've been tinkering with Kestra being a God of Travel and learning.
Originally my cleric was bound to an abandoned Temple to Kestra in the Feywild.
Born malformed her tribe wanted to abandon her there to die, but her paternal grandfather refused choosing to flee with her to the dubious safety of an abandoned temple.
The Temple is home to a Lantern Archon in service to Sehanine Moonbow and to put a long story short was bound there as part of an artefact that makes up part of the Regalia of Chaos.
My character's grandfather died eventually and Kestra took over as parent raising my character into becoming a cleric, but one with no church organisation other than the Archon being also part of the Celestial Bureaucracy. In essence all of the Archons of the Celestial planes that serve the various deities there.
Unable to leave the Temple into the Feywild, that left either a portal to the Shadowfell that was very frightening and dangerous or a portal to the prime material world the temple was then tethered to.
She visited that world and eventually settled down and married bearing a son, however her husband never really accepting her claims that she was elvish by birth. He abandoned them so he could marry someone more suitable so he could inherit his family's lands of titles after his father and brother were unexpectedly killed.
Some allies of his assumed she would contest this and ended up chasing them back into her Refuge hidden within the Feywild.
Her son grew up there and eventually chose to return enlisting in the army in his efforts to fit in eventually mustering out to become a guard and settled down and married himself.
She was called forth by him so she could meet her grandson, however an old enemy inadvertedly caused her son's death and then took steps to prevent him being raised before assisting in a coup that involved a ritual intended to swap Rothenel with its Shadowfell counterpart.
Performing the same ritual she used to consecrate shrines to her deity that granted her access to her Refuge she managed to stall the ritual but at the same time drew her foe's attention. He subsequently banished her back to her Refuge, which caused its opening to that world to shift to another world where she remains unaware of her grandson's fate.
Tethered to another prime material world, she is desperately attempting to learn all she can in an effort to find a way home.
In the process she has begun spreading word of her deity as each new settlement she has visited, she has built a shrine to her deity letting people know about the Celestial Bureaucracy and her deity Kestra.
Although now almost 150 years old, she has only really begun learning her true craft, whilst using her guise as a herbalist to earn her keep.
That's as far as I've got although I have attempted expanding on Kestra's origin my attempts to discuss that suggest that's not what I'm looking for.
Thanks for your help I'll keep popping back here with updates and more questions if you don't mind?
here's an anti-cleric idea: an apostate who believes in divine power, just not deity itself
Interesting, do tell more about this concept. Is it like death clerics? or you got different domains in mind?
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Born under the watch of something from the furthest corners of the far realms.... It knows all.... it sees all... and it asks: "What is it that you want to see?"... and my answer is... ALL"
The veiled maiden is one of 5 recently ascendant gods (in my setting) and her domains are: Love, happiness, weddings, widows and peace.
No one knows what she truly looks like or what race is. She depicted as women in a white wedding dress with her face covered with a white veil and a golden crown encrusted with diamonds. Her clergy are mainly priests who seek to amend conflicts and unite hearts of couples as well as help those who have lost their loved ones. The only challenge that she is facing is competing with other existing gods who have managed to amass followers and somewhat has the same domains.
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Born under the watch of something from the furthest corners of the far realms.... It knows all.... it sees all... and it asks: "What is it that you want to see?"... and my answer is... ALL"
Firbolg Tempest Cleric who worships Stronmaus. Come to find out Stronmaus was devoured by Tiamat, not sure this is canon but we ran with it. Now, Stronmaus has become some bizarre hybrid deity having joined forces with the blue headed dragon part of Tiamat. To what end, who knows. The gods work in mysterious ways.
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Have any of you tried creating a new deity for your cleric to follow?
If yes, how much detail did you go into explaining the entity and its mythos let alone the clergy?
Boy have I. My cleric's in a homebrew setting, so the DM gave me carte blanche to establish the pantheon, the clergy, how it all works, etc. He gave me the framework and then let me basically run wild. Between us we outlined the deities, the roles they play (so, if you're a War Cleric, who you're likely to be worshiping) -- and each deity has multiple 'aspects,' which allows for different alignments to follow different aspects of the same deity (so a Conquest Paladin and a War Cleric could follow the same deity, but one would be focused on active warfare and order and conflict, and the other be focused on tactics and minimizing loss of life).
The most fleshed out one is obviously the one my cleric is in -- I made him a Fertility Cleric, which is pretty much a Life Cleric but with a bit of a Druid vibe -- they're not just concerned with the life of sentient creatures, but all life, so it's very neutral 'well our god is the god of those locusts too, so what're you gonna do?' but also with sex jokes. But we've got the organizational structure of the faith as a whole, the temples (a flexible system so that if there are only 2 people running a temple in the middle of nowhere they can still get the basics done, or we have a rough idea of what services they can provide, versus one of the big temples in a major city), what services they provide -- the fertility clerics run 'halls of healing' which also function as hostels, and take in any unwanted children, no questions asked; however it's the forge clerics who run the schools.
There are definitely areas where we haven't filled everything in. We established that if you follow the Fertility deity, then you're basically agreeing to be dragged back to life if they need you for something, but we also... never really established what happens/where you go when you die. The Fertility clerics tend to just ...ignore it. Which is why the Grave clerics have no patience for them.
It's also very internal, I guess? The DM and I know all this and have documents on it, but everyone else only know the bits and pieces that come up, which isn't much, because it's not a proselytizing religion, and has a low presence in the region the campaign is in versus where my PC is from. Our Paladin follows a completely different pantheon, and I know pretty much nothing about it. I'm not even sure if it's an original one or just the dwarven pantheon.
Birgit | Shifter | Sorcerer | Dragonlords
Shayone | Hobgoblin | Sorcerer | Netherdeep
Let me first get the obvious statement out of the way: Its really going to be something you work out with your DM.
That said, I'd start with what they're the god of, first making sure that that niche isn't already filled by an existing god in the pantheon. I'd come up with 2-3 domains for them, and a name, maybe a title, if that's how things roll in you campaign. Mechanically, that's probably all you really need, it technically is probably even more than you need, in terms of making the deity functioning for game rules purposes.
A lot of the rest is going to depend on how much RP there is in your game. If you're just dungeon-crawling hack and slash, then you won't need much detail. But if there' more RP, I'd get into things like, is there a formal church hierarchy; what is the holy symbol; how common is the religion; what do the shrines/temples look like and are they typically staffed, are there favored colors, weapons, animals, flowers, etc; what are your religion's feeling towards other faiths, probably on a faith-by-faith basis. That could probably get you through most situations. You could add in some more flavor, like holidays, quirks like dietary, clothing or other sorts of restrictions. What kinds of behaviors are considered virtuous vs. sinful.
And if you really want to go deep, you can start all the way back, like how and when was the god created, and what's this religion's role been throughout history.
For our last campaign my first character "left" the campaign at level nine, so I continued the campaign from that point with a white dragonborn grave cleric. I love backstory. Backstory is the best part of character creation, imho. So I created his home village, the local climate, the culture, their relationships with the nearby dwarves, and of course their pantheon of gods.
Here's the character's backstory, for reference:
Greetings. I would love to share the backstory of my current character, Viktor Gavriil, the white dragonborn Grave Cleric. Viktor is about six and a half feet tall, with a barrel chest, thick limbs, and a rather menacing appearance. He's actually a really nice guy, once you get to know him. And he's not like a snow-white white dragonborn. He's more of a gloomy gray, with darker lines under his beady little yellow eyes. His scales darken toward his extremities, so much that his fingers and toes are nearly completely black, a remnant of frostbite. But we'll get to that.
So here goes...
(imagine the following being spoken in a really terrible deep russian accent)...
Privet, druz'ya. I am Viktor. I come from frozen wasteland in distant north, on other side of the world. Small village near coast, where waters were frozen half the year. We survived by fishing, hunting, whaling, and doing trade with the Borean Dwarves in mine two days east. They used whale blubbers for their machines. I don't know how, or why, but they paid well and would buy all we could bring. I once traded small cask of this blubbers for a good shield and spear. They're good people.
I was hunter. My job to keep village fed. Not easy in long dark winters. A curse on Zamorozhnneyy! Where I am from, he is God of Winter. He is miserable prick. Cruel, distant, unrelenting bastard, he is. I never much minded the gods back then. Of course, we all said thanks to Topka, goddess of the hearth, when family met for meal. We said toast to Khodosnovy, god of brewing and distilling, when raising our mugs of vodka or piva. We had to acknowledge Vishcha, god of wealth and mining, when doing trades with the Boreans. And we would curse and spit the name of the Blyedd when we were cheated. She was goddess of dark secrets. A real see-you-next-tuesday, if you know what I mean. The only remaining god I'll get to in a minute. But in day to day life, the gods were just words. Stories. Someone to blame sh-t on.
One year, winter came early. Our long hunting trip south to the taiga forests was cut short by the snows. We got home to find waters already frozen and village half deep in snow. But this was life. We know the cold. We settled in for long winter. But winter was longer and colder than any before. After some months, village began to run low on food, and on fuel for fires. When wood ran out we had to burn valuable whale oil. A real shame. When that was gone we were reduced to burning our own sh-t for light and heat. But we weren't eating enough so we weren't sh-tting enough to provide enough fuel. A few died. The old, the young, the weak. This is normal. This keeps tribe strong. Is the natural way of things. But still it seemed unfair. Not really their time, I thought, since this was more a curse than a winter.
One day, after many months of this, weather suddenly cleared. I grabbed my spear and ran! Animals had all gone south months before, but I had to find meat for village. I had just gotten over the first hills, just out of sight of village, when the storm returned even stronger than before. That was when I knew, this was Zamorozhnneyy f#@&ing with me. I tried to turn back, but could not find my way in the storm. Wind so strong I could barely stand. Snow and ice tearing at my face. My fingers and toes freezing, then hot, then nothing. For days this went on. I would burrow into snow for shelter from wind, and to find some of the hard lichens on the rocks beneath. Weeks. Lost. Frozen. I know you probably think that white dragons cannot freeze, but trust me... we can. It just takes very long time. And this winter was very long.
One day, frozen, starving, exhausted, I collapse. Is then that he appeared to me. Kurgan, the God of Death. Now, I know many of you think death is a bad thing, and it scares you, and your gods of death are all evil and whatever, but that is not the way of Kurgan. We call him Grandfather. We know that death is just another part of the natural order. The next step of the journey. And Kurgan is the one who is always there with us. He is quiet, he is fair, and he is inevitable. You see, there is no need to lie or cheat or steal when you are inevitable. He treats all the same. Rich, poor, tall, short, dwarf, elf... all the same to Kurgan, because all die.
I stand and face him. "Grandfather...." He asks me, "Are you ready?" I suddenly feel a fire in my chest. "NO!", I yell at him. "This is not my time! You know it! This is your brother, Zamorozhnneyy, f#@&ing with me!" Grandfather smiles a bit. Is a strange thing to see Death smile. "You know when is your time?", he asks. I tell him, "No. But I know is not now." Grandfather looks at me. Through me. Tells me he is impressed with how long I have survived the storm. Tells me he may have job for me. I ask what is job. He says, "You will go out into the world. You will find those whose time has come, and you will send them to me. You will find those whose time has not come, and protect them." I tell him, "Grandfather, I am simple hunter. I do not know how to do this job." He raises an arm and points off into the storm. "Go that way. If you survive, you will find town. In town you will find temple. In temple you will find priest. He will train you."
I run. I don't even respond. Just run the way he pointed. Cannot feel legs or face, but just knowing the way to go gives me strength. All day, all night, by next day I find a town. I must be many miles south by now. On edge of town, by the burial mounds, I find temple. A solid looking building of dark timber make. Pushing open large door I collapse inside. The soft warmth of a fire. The smell of meat and sweat and books. A dwarf in dark gray robes stands over me. Says he has been expecting me. I ask him, "How can you be expecting a stranger you never met?" He says, "Grandfather came to me in a dream two nights ago. Says he is sending me someone. Is must be you." So this must be priest. His name was Borgund. He was a dwarf of the mountains, not a Borean like those back home. For the next three years I am at temple. Working, studying, learning the ways of life and death. Dwarf say it usually only take two years, but I need three because I am not fast learner. Finally, one day, dwarf come to me and say, "Okay. Training is done. Go do your job." I say him, "You know, this is kind of a big job. And world is big place... where do I begin?" He tells me, "Go as far as you can. Go to other side of the world. Work your way back."
So I gather my things. My armor and shield that I got from the Boreans for blubbers. My pack of priest stuff like candles and salves and med kits. And I go to the coastal town just to the south. I have a few coins that people had given me for healings, so I buy passage on boat. I go as far as boat goes. Get on another boat, go as far as boat goes, and so on. I earn my way on each boat by fishing to help feed crew, and by healing the scurvy. I am good at fishing. I am okay at healing. Finally, after many weeks on many boats we land at a city. A huge city. I did not know such places existed in this world. Crew mate says city is called Waterdeep. I head ashore with a sack full of dried fish and a job to do.
Of course there is no temple to Kurgan in this new land. I find large place called The Plinth, where many gods are worshiped. "Worship". That is a strong word. I do not think I "worship" Kurgan. I work for him. Worship is word for children and old women. What it that? Singing songs? Psshh. What am I to Death? What does he need songs for? If I do not sing will he stop taking us? Will we live forever? Yerunda. I don't think so. Besides, "worship" is word people use when they don't really know what to do, so they pray, thinking that counts as something. I know what to do. I have faced my god and spoken to him personally. He told me what to do. He did not say to pray. He said to work. So I meet people at Plinth and get job in part of city called "City of the Dead". Sounds like good place to start. I keep graves maintained, as sign of respect for the dead. But also we keep close watch for the occasional undead things. Undeads is a violation of the natural order. Kurgan teaches us to live every day like it's your last, because it might be. But when it is your time, it is your time. You go. Kurgan is patient, but he is inevitable. Undeads are an offense that must be wiped out. Turns out, I am pretty good at that.
After a year or so keeping watch in City of the Dead, and maintaining the graves, and doing some healings in the Southern Ward for spare coins, I learn about big problem facing the region. There is some new cult that worships some old demon-fish-god thing. They are poisoning waters and stealing people and dragging them into the ocean to turn them into undead demon-fish-people. So in Southern Ward I meet group of people, adventurers. They say they are heading out to fight this new menace. I join them. There was a dwarf who was strong with an axe, there was woman who could control waters and could turn into fierce animals, and there was a wizard. A real elf wizard. The four of us spent the next year and a half journeying up and down Sword Coast, killing undead things, helping people and towns protect themselves, and following clues to this demon-fish-god cult. Their symbol is a starfish with an eye in the center. Is really creepy. Makes people have nightmares, makes them cut out their own tongues, makes them go insane and attack and kill anyone around them.
We were doing pretty good. Learning a lot, helping a lot, getting closer and closer to finding the demon-fish cult. Wizard nearly died, twice. He was powerful wizard, but not strong in the body. I had to protect him especially. He was the smart one who followed the clues. He learns that cult has a sunken temple in city to the south, called Baldur's Gate. Says there is creature there, called Aboleth. Says the cult worships it. We head south to find sunken temple and kill it. But by the time we get to Baldur's Gate we find city is recovering from great calamity. Turns out, another group of adventurers had killed the aboleth just the day before. Is good that it's dead, but still we wished we could have done it. Is then that wizard decides to leave group and head back to home in place called Lothen, in a great forest.
So I return to Waterdeep. Over the next year I assist with a new temple being built. Is temple to a new saint called Bevin. Apparently he was a priest who helped that other group kill the aboleth and its cult followers, and died in the process. I don't know all the details, but people say he was great guy. So I help out with building and lifting and healing people and cooking in soup kitchen for poor and so on.
Is one day I am in temple just resting, lighting candle to Kurgan, and I meet a guy named Adams. He is elf, or part elf at least. Is some kind of music sorcerer. Turns out, he was part of the group that knew Bevin and killed aboleth. I tell him I am impressed. He says aboleth was not the demon-fish-god thing. It was just a pawn in a bigger war. Cult is still out there. Still much to be done. He says his group didn't just lose Bevin, they also lost a sorcerer who turned on the party and betrayed them to a devil. Says he was a dragonborn named Ikram Sahir. Says he was a brass. I tell him he should not have trusted someone from a desert anyhow. So I offer my help.
He leads me to Silver Street, where his group owns a house. Well, the tiefling of the group owns it. She is assassin, named Shadow. Is not her real name, I think. There is also ranger, a blue dragonborn, so that is good. And they have an elf wizard, too! He is a snooty little der'mo, but is good in a fight. There is also creepy little girl who can summon weapons and creatures and things, and a druid elf lady.
Group says they need a healer. They have had many tough battles, and really need a healer. I tell them, "I am Viktor. I work for Kurgan, the God of Death. He tells me to find those whose time has come and send them to him, to find those whose time has not come and protect them. You help me do job, and kill undead things, and I will heal you. You get in my way, and maybe you meet Kurgan."
. . . . .
Well... that was several years ago. We have had many adventures since then. Too many to even tell you about here. I even founded a new temple to Kurgan, called "The Temple of Last Resort" in city called Neverwinter. We have nearly wiped out the cult. We have fought a dragon, bargained with a marid, traveled to the Hells and back, and saved the entire city of Waterdeep from a plague of slaad creatures. We are nearly done. Just one thing left to do. To kill a mind flayer creature that is trying to turn itself into a lich. It may have already succeeded. Whether it has or not, we will kill it. Kurgan commands it.
If I survive the battle, I think I will retire to my temple and spend my years healing the sick, feeding the hungry, and teaching people that death is not something to be feared. But, if is my time, if Kurgan comes for me in the battle, I will go. I am on borrowed time as it is. I trust that he will be fair, and that what must happen will happen. Whether sooner or later, He is inevitable. One day he will come for me again, and I will not protest. I will gladly climb aboard the wagon for a ride over the hills to the Summer Village, where an eternity of work, and joy, and feasting awaits.
Proshchal'nyy privet.
Viktor Gavriil. 20th level white dragonborn grave cleric of Kurgan.
So to create the pantheon of gods in that area, I started with what facets of life are important to them. This was a village of white dragonborn living a rather primitive existence in an arctic environment along a frozen coastline. They hunt and fish for food. They make most of what they need and sometimes barter with dwarves in a mine some distance away. Life is difficult and death is always present. But death is not some abstract scary evil thing, as it is often perceived in so many cultures. Rather, death is calm, quiet, and fair. It waits to greet all of us and to lead us into whatever comes next.
So, anyway, here's the rundown as best as I can remember right now. (I don't have that paperwork in front of me at the moment and I'm too lazy to look for it, sorry):
Zamorozhnneyy - god of winter and suffering. He is a miserable prick. Cruel, unrelenting, and vengeful. He hates everyone and everything. No one prays to him, because he would simply mock you for it and bring you even more suffering. His name is invoked as a curse, mostly. He is also the younger brother of Death.
Topka - goddess of the hearth. Topka is a woman of tremendous physical and emotional strength. She is the one who binds us all together as a society. She teaches us to look after each other and she reminds us of our obligations. Her lessons are tough but fair. Most everyone says thanks to Topka when the family gathers together for a meal. (Also, for what it's worth, she bears a striking resemblance to actress Mariska Hargitay.)
Vishcha - god of mining and crafting. This was originally a deity of the Borean dwarves in the eastern mines that has been adopted into the white dragon pantheon through cultural interaction. He is a maker of strange objects of metal and stone, weapons stronger than any the dragonborn can make, lanterns that burn throughout the night. The dragonborn often trade whale oil and blubber to the dwarves in exchange for some of these useful items. Vishcha's name is invoked in these trade deals.
Khodosnovy - god of brewing and distilling. He taught us to make the drinks that light the fires in your belly on the coldest of nights. He is also a god of extremes, basically a bipolar deity. He can be friendly and jovial, and then suddenly angry and violent. He can be happy and cheerful and then suddenly paranoid and depressed. He has some of the crafting skills of Vishcha, but specifically geared toward the craft of making drinks. He brews the beer that families share during a holiday meal, but he also brews the poisons that the Blyadd uses to murder her victims. You never know what to expect when Khodosnovy shows up, but you know it won't be dull.
The Blyadd - the goddess of dark secrets. That's not her real name, because to speak her real name out loud would be to invite her assassins to hunt you down. She is evil and treachery incarnate. She delights in discovering the weaknesses of people and using those weaknesses against them. She is beautiful and cunning, with powerful enchantment magic at her disposal. Her lies are laced with the sweetest pleasures, but always end up being poisonous. She laughs at your pain.
And finally... the one above them all...
Kurgan - the god of death. Kurgan represents inevitability and is the personification of death. He is quiet, patient, and fair. It doesn't matter if you are tall or short, rich or poor, peasant or king, all are equal in his eyes because all will inevitably die. Even the dragons, liches, other deities, mountain ranges, even the very stars themselves will all eventually succumb to his inexorable embrace. The performance of his duties throughout the enormity of deep immortality has given him a rather poignant and benevolent attitude toward mortals that could almost have been considered "compassionate" had it not been for all those countless eons of watching those poor mortals die. When it is your time, it is your time. Kurgan will greet you with his doleful eyes and humbly usher you forward toward whatever comes next.
At some point during our last campaign my character, Viktor, had amassed enough gold to build a small temple to Kurgan in Neverwinter. Over time the temple grew. I have the plans drawn out on graph paper, but nothing I can post here unfortunately. Well, followers of Kurgan focus on respecting the dead and the process of death, which can mean anything from caring for graveyards and cemeteries, to offering assistance to people in hospice or on the verge of passing, to combating hordes of undead - since undeath is a violation of the natural order that Kurgan represents. His temples back home on the Frozen Shores were simple stone cairns around which we would gather to say our final words before sending someone who has died off into the waters. The temple in Neverwinter is an octagonal stone building two stories tall. On entering you cross over a small bridge under which is a small pool of water, into which it is customary to toss a coin or two. Then through a set of double doors and down a flight of stairs, so the actual temple is below ground level. In the center of the room is a round altar piled with ash into which you stick a lit candle in remembrance of one who has passed, or to beg Kurgan to release a dying person from their suffering. Benches line the outer walls of the room, with thick black curtains between them, providing a bit of privacy for anyone who seeks to be alone with their prayers, or who wishes to partake in grief counselling offered by the priests of Kurgan.
For a year and a half I've been halfheartedly jotting notes about this topic and someday I'd love to write a book about it. I've got the entire afterlife designed (the Summer Villages), and some ideas that tie into the ending of our last campaign. Maybe, someday. It's more of a dream than a hobby at the moment. But, whether or not I ever get around to finishing it I know at least one thing that is inevitable. . . . Kurgan.
Tayn of Darkwood. Lvl 10 human Life Cleric of Lathander. Retired.
Ikram Sahir ibn Malik al-Sayyid Ra'ad, Second Son of the House of Ra'ad, Defender of the Burning Sands. Lvl 9 Brass Dragonborn Sorcerer + Greater Fire Elemental Devil.
Viktor Gavriil. Lvl 20 White Dragonborn Grave Cleric, of Kurgan the God of Death.
Anzio Faro. Lvl 5 Prot. Aasimar Light Cleric.
So far I've come up with a background for the deity, but not their portfolio.
So far I've been tinkering with Kestra being a God of Travel and learning.
Originally my cleric was bound to an abandoned Temple to Kestra in the Feywild.
Born malformed her tribe wanted to abandon her there to die, but her paternal grandfather refused choosing to flee with her to the dubious safety of an abandoned temple.
The Temple is home to a Lantern Archon in service to Sehanine Moonbow and to put a long story short was bound there as part of an artefact that makes up part of the Regalia of Chaos.
My character's grandfather died eventually and Kestra took over as parent raising my character into becoming a cleric, but one with no church organisation other than the Archon being also part of the Celestial Bureaucracy. In essence all of the Archons of the Celestial planes that serve the various deities there.
Unable to leave the Temple into the Feywild, that left either a portal to the Shadowfell that was very frightening and dangerous or a portal to the prime material world the temple was then tethered to.
She visited that world and eventually settled down and married bearing a son, however her husband never really accepting her claims that she was elvish by birth. He abandoned them so he could marry someone more suitable so he could inherit his family's lands of titles after his father and brother were unexpectedly killed.
Some allies of his assumed she would contest this and ended up chasing them back into her Refuge hidden within the Feywild.
Her son grew up there and eventually chose to return enlisting in the army in his efforts to fit in eventually mustering out to become a guard and settled down and married himself.
She was called forth by him so she could meet her grandson, however an old enemy inadvertedly caused her son's death and then took steps to prevent him being raised before assisting in a coup that involved a ritual intended to swap Rothenel with its Shadowfell counterpart.
Performing the same ritual she used to consecrate shrines to her deity that granted her access to her Refuge she managed to stall the ritual but at the same time drew her foe's attention. He subsequently banished her back to her Refuge, which caused its opening to that world to shift to another world where she remains unaware of her grandson's fate.
Tethered to another prime material world, she is desperately attempting to learn all she can in an effort to find a way home.
In the process she has begun spreading word of her deity as each new settlement she has visited, she has built a shrine to her deity letting people know about the Celestial Bureaucracy and her deity Kestra.
Although now almost 150 years old, she has only really begun learning her true craft, whilst using her guise as a herbalist to earn her keep.
That's as far as I've got although I have attempted expanding on Kestra's origin my attempts to discuss that suggest that's not what I'm looking for.
Thanks for your help I'll keep popping back here with updates and more questions if you don't mind?
here's an anti-cleric idea: an apostate who believes in divine power, just not deity itself
Rogue Shadow, the DM (and occasional) PC with schemes of inventive thinking
Interesting, do tell more about this concept. Is it like death clerics? or you got different domains in mind?
Born under the watch of something from the furthest corners of the far realms.... It knows all.... it sees all... and it asks: "What is it that you want to see?"... and my answer is... ALL"
The veiled maiden is one of 5 recently ascendant gods (in my setting) and her domains are: Love, happiness, weddings, widows and peace.
No one knows what she truly looks like or what race is. She depicted as women in a white wedding dress with her face covered with a white veil and a golden crown encrusted with diamonds. Her clergy are mainly priests who seek to amend conflicts and unite hearts of couples as well as help those who have lost their loved ones. The only challenge that she is facing is competing with other existing gods who have managed to amass followers and somewhat has the same domains.
Born under the watch of something from the furthest corners of the far realms.... It knows all.... it sees all... and it asks: "What is it that you want to see?"... and my answer is... ALL"
Firbolg Tempest Cleric who worships Stronmaus. Come to find out Stronmaus was devoured by Tiamat, not sure this is canon but we ran with it. Now, Stronmaus has become some bizarre hybrid deity having joined forces with the blue headed dragon part of Tiamat. To what end, who knows. The gods work in mysterious ways.