Titles: The Festive One, the Merrymaker, the Flutist, Father of Satyr, The Debauched, The Hedonist
Portfolio:Nature, Festivity, Art, Music, Hedonistic Activities, Intoxication and Intoxicating Substances, Lust
Domains: Liberation, Trickery, Madness
Patron of the Satyr, the Gokiki, Partygoers, Artists, Bards
Cleric Training: Clerics of bachantus have little formal training. However, the initiation rite is a huge party, where alcohol and other substances are consumed and progressively more dangerous games are played. Some initiates die during this party, but the survivors and those who are still conscious are initiated into the cult or order. Further hedonistic rituals weed out the weak constitutioned, and the upper eschelons of the cults, official or not, are tough, fun loving, and deadly bastards. The offically recognized cults and organizations tend to be less upsetting and deadly, but despite the receptionist at the gate they are still formidable souls.
Philosophy Enjoyment is all there is in life, and life is short. Live it to it’s fullest.
Worshippers: the free satyr worship him as their patron. Enslaved satyr, with what remained of their free will, managed to keep a few dilapidated shrines. He is worshipped by the Saris in Xin, almost equally to Merrasat, and by the Usi-O as a lesser diety, by the Gokiki as a co-patron, and by the Muusi as a minor god.
Prayers: Prayers to Bachantus vary, though they are often done while intoxicated and while partying, daring, or doing general party things. However, as of late, more serious and sad prayers have been said to him, possibly in the hopes that he will help them make the sadness go away.
Rites: Rites of Bachantus are party affairs, the tamest of which are gallery galas and the rowdiest of which are unnamable and chaotic affairs.
Attitudes (Good and Bad)
(Gods Allied: Istara, Yura, Tademos and Vinsi, Tyulok, Niatha Moraven)
(Gods Hated: Merrasat, Brobbet, Vikin, Hates all the Blight Dukes with a passion, especially Tak-Atun and Atmi-Lasoathim)
Symbols: A golden lute on a background of green ground and blue sky, usually in a circle cupped in rams horns, though the horns are sometimes omitted
Favored Weapon Morningstar, though he prefers to fight with a creative style, possibly using music
Bachantus, to his people and to many followers in the Age of Empires, appears as a satyr with green, mossy fur and horns with tendrils of shimmering, multicolored light woven into great goats horns, more intricate and elegant than any living satyrs. The horn’s actual shape varies as he wishes, and sometimes even shift shape. His hair is long, tangled, and wild with various and random objects stuck into it. He is naked and has prominently male features, though he can shift gender as he wishes.
Though this is his favored form, he often takes other shapes depending on the tastes and setting of those he is materializing in front of and his own whimsy or convenience. Typically, they have at least one trait of his favored form, but they always have the eyes: cat-slitted white-pupiled eyes on a background that, though the color itself is variable, always gradiates from a light color on the outside edges to the deepest, darkest version of that color that could not be mistaken for black. The eyes glow and sparkle with scintillating and hypnotizingly indescribable colors. He often has a smile, charming, mischevious, impish, and predatory. But pleasing, aesthetically and artistic perfection, that is to say, subjective perfection and beauty.
Bachantus was hit hard by the Aegis. Some say he was held captive in the blightlands for a time, but whether this is true or not, the enslavement of the satyr hurt him deeply. For a long time, he was a faded god, sitting drunken and depressed in a corner of Istara’s cottage, an entity of purest despair where once there had been pure, unbridled, hedonistic joy, and shadows of this harsh time persist even after the freeing of the satyr.
Before, he was one of the most mortal-centric gods in the pantheon, often mingling with mortals, followers or no… in more ways than one. He was hedonism and creativity itself, acting as muse and instigator for the sort of events that make history great, like revolutions and movements and great artistic geniuses, great galas of the century, and so forth. The things that spice up history and make it what it is. He was never upset for long, able to find great joy in everything from murder to sex to cliff-diving. He was a force of pure pleasure and instinct, balanced by a deep intellect and wit, and counterweighted with a celestial sense of humor that could get a mild chuckle out of even the stoic Brobbet.
But then, the satyr, his patron mortals, were enslaved, and he was damaged deeply. Although he has recovered somewhat from his painful, hopeless, ordeal, he still bears scars, psychic and otherwise. He is still cheerful, but he rarely mingles now, and reports indicate that he is focused, a cold rage suffusing his aura, making him more like a predator than a trickster. He is out for blood, now, holding a deep grudge against the Aegis that occupies his whole attention. A very different god than before.