Erastil

Divine Mysteries

Erastil is an old deity. Originally an elk-headed god of the hunt, he changed long ago to his current purview of family, farming, and trade, yet still holds to a few of the ancient ways. Currently, Erastil’s concerns lie with community and the work that sustains those communities. Farming serves the basic needs of a people and requires them to maintain the crops. Families are the most basic unit of a community, with one generation caring for another. Trade requires enough to serve other communities, thus creating bonds of familiarity and interdependence. Yet behind this idyllic image lies the hard, oaken core of primal woods and steaming skin. This gives Erastil a multifaceted history, and while worshippers near cities and newer settlements worship the “softer” image of Erastil (an old man of the worshipper’s ancestry), people in the wilderness or from very old civilizations still have the elk-headed depictions in their homes.

This bifurcation is reflected in the divine beings Erastil has befriended. He maintains good relations with nature deities but has strong ties toward those more focused on civilization, since cities need farms to sustain themselves. Farms, both reliant on nature and the elements, also have an aspect of civilization: the land is molded in an organized, structured way. Even Erastil’s trade aspect balances between the modern view of wealth for wealth’s sake and the older concept of creating ties to community. Erastil serves as a bridge between the wild and settled, the past and the present, the mortal and the elements.

Due to his timelessness and age, Erastil tends to act slower than other deities. Where one may think in days, Erastil thinks in seasons. Where another may use years to act, Erastil uses decades. This might make Old Deadeye and his followers come across as conservative, yet Erastil has changed and can change, just at a slower pace than other faiths. When Erastil does act, he does so through the work of his worshippers. In times of plenty, he rarely intervenes. In lean times—harsh winters, famine, and the like—a deliberately planted bush may sprout berries, a starving hunter may encounter an easy kill, or an impoverished trader may coincidentally find a generous buyer. The warmth of a hearth, the fullness of a meal, and the feeling of safety are common sensations indicating Erastil’s approval. Food doesn’t just appear on the table, though, so an impoverished family must still bake bread; but the poor ingredients may result in a golden crust and fluffy interior, so nutritious it can feed the family for the week. Erastil rewards effort with plenty.

Some of the myths and folklore surrounding Erastil paint him in a harsh and unforgiving light: rigid, traditionalist, demanding. The fable of Erastil turning unruly children into trees is oft told but untrue. Old Deadeye understands that children still need guidance, and children acting out can indicate something else might be wrong. Adults, on the other hand, receive less grace, and so perhaps the old bedtime story does come from an acorn of truth. “If the fruit is bad, then the roots might be at fault.”

Erastil, however, can be seen as an inclusive deity. A community means everyone, including the refugee, the misfit, and the misunderstood. He has no tolerance for destructive individuals, but he imparts blessings upon those who try to contribute to society and those who have been cast out through no fault of their own. Found family is still family after all, and perhaps more so, since it’s done by choice. While followers of Erastil emphasize marriage as the primary means to establish bonds, Erastil’s focus is less about institutional contracts and more about the promises to another. A genuine polyamorous informal arrangement carries more weight in the Elk Father’s eyes than any bombastic show wedding for the purpose of a political alliance, especially if the marriage establishes a familial support system or a responsibility to raise children.

When someone suffers Erastil’s wrath, they see and feel the old god of the hunt. The air becomes hollow and frigid. Food provides no comfort. Shadows have the blinking, reflected light of a predator’s eyes, ready to pounce. And Old Deadeye never misses.

The Church

Worship of Erastil is still quite decentralized, focused more on small communities. Old Deadeye eschews larger worship sites and prefers more intimate household shrines. Such temples that do exist tend to be multi-use spaces: a meeting hall, a storage area, a farmers’ market, or a town square. Rather than a complicated building, a place of worship may only have a stuffed elk head, a set of elk horns, an old bow and a single arrow, or a wooden placard depicting Erastil’s humanoid form. Followers have similarly modest means of expressing their faith. Some followers carry a seed with them, either in a simple necklace or their pocket. They may sport a badge, decoration, or depiction of Erastil on their clothing, but they’re usually understated and sometimes hidden within a coat lining or on a button.

Worship is a personal affair. A priest may be designated as head of a congregation, but just as often, a community may ask an elder, or someone who can’t physically work for one reason or another, to lead prayers. During dire times, Erastil may anoint an adventuring priest to serve a community for a short while. The followers of Erastil pass on knowledge less by sermons and more through storytelling. Fables, myths with a moral message, and sometimes a personal story of “once I had an uncle who...” are often shared, commonly ending with “at least that’s what Old Deadeye says.” Their religious text, The Parables of Erastil, usually comes in the form of a handwritten, hand-bound book that contains all the local stories, personal wisdom, and unique flaws of its creator (such as the paw prints of the owner’s pet cat). Every parable tends to be slightly different from the others, reflecting its author’s idiosyncrasies and local knowledge.

These parables often include simple and short rituals for a good crop, a new birth, reintegration of a wayward person back into the community, and the like. Prayers tend to be equally short, asking for the Old Hunter’s blessing. Priests sometimes place both hands flat on the side of the faithful’s head to represent elk horns. Most record the work songs that serve as their hymns. Some common favorites include “Old Deadeye, Fire That Arrow” and “Come Home For the Harvest, Dear.”

Erastil abhors forced labor or work as institutionalized (as opposed to communal) punishment. Work isn’t about the person’s “usefulness” or its difficulty. Sick and disabled people have a place in the community even if they can’t work, for example. If one can labor to make another’s task easier, such as designing a one-handed plow or a wheelchair, then both have bolstered the community. As long as the person has contributed to the well-being of others, then that person has Erastil’s blessing. Carve a toy to amuse a child? Good work. Sing a song that lifts spirits during a harsh winter? Good work. Yet push a man to injury to increase crop yields, and one may feel a cold wind and hear the stretch of a bowstring everywhere one turns.

Followers

Farmers and ranchers make up the bulk of Old Deadeye’s worshippers. Those transplanted from their small-town homes (whether as workers or refugees) may continue worship of Erastil while living in the city, although they tend to focus more on their neighbors or local trade. Followers prioritize supporting their family and community rather than politics or the affairs of the state.

Those who engage in solitary trades, such as hunters and artisans, do have a place among Erastil’s faithful. These individuals still interact with a community, providing services or goods. A community is still a community even if its members only meet up at Harvest Feast.

Erastilian worship leans less on official priests and more on elders who have shown a particular wisdom. In most cases, priests work some other profession, unless unable due to disability or age. Priests tend to be advisors and mediators rather than leaders, both to ensure their humility but also to avoid a centralization of authority. In times of strong divisions within a community, sometimes a priest will counsel a split, with one group founding another village or town nearby. After a generation or two, the animosity becomes history or folklore, and now the people have grown into two strong communities. “Divide a plant to help them both grow.”

While druids tend not to worship Erastil and very few worship the old version of the Elk Father, they remain staunch allies. Erastil abstains from the rapid, sometimes exploitative growth of cities, and the non-proselytizing nature of his followers means the wildness of nature can coexist with more pastoral settlements. Rangers commonly worship Erastil, as his twinned aspect of the hunt and the hearth mirrors a ranger’s connection to both nature and civilization.

Adventurers and Erastil have an uneasy relationship. Adventuring requires leaving home and traveling for extended periods of time, and most faithful focus on staying home and putting down roots. The few adventurers who do worship the Old Hunter tend to do so because their homes or families face a threat. They travel not for travel’s sake but to protect their loved ones. In this regard, these adventurers are driven and determined people, because they have a lot to lose. They sacrifice their connections to their community to protect it, and Erastil can respect that.

Yet the faithful do have a tradition to journey out of the community, to learn about and form bonds with other people. Some even travel to cities to learn about changes in the world. This usually only lasts for a year or so, and of course the wanderer must work to earn their keep, taking an odd job here and there. Most employers find them to be good and reliable laborers (though some try to exploit their lack of knowledge of city politics). If the wanderer doesn’t return, then perhaps they found their place elsewhere. If they do return, then they will have learned and enriched themselves. “A seed must travel the winds to find a place to root,” or at least that’s what Old Deadeye says.

Relationships

Erastil has a strong bond with

and the , and a friendly acknowledgment of other nature deities. Despite being somewhat domesticated in modern times, Erastil still has the wild god of the hunt in him. Agriculture requires a connection to the elements, and the Elk Father maintains these connections with rigor. Followers have a strong trade relationship with druids and worshippers of Gozreh, and they often ask druids to assist in crop work or animal husbandry if a challenge outmatches their knowledge.

Relations with Abadar remain friendly but strained, as the followers of the Master of the First Vault can turn wealth into an obsession, and the two deities have different ideas of what civilization entails. Followers of both deities get along best when working toward a common goal.

Freedom-associated deities such as

, , or leave the Elk Father disgruntled, much like an elderly patriarch’s confusion with an energetic, experimental generation. With a begrudging acceptance, their followers are welcome, but all know the relationships are usually fleeting.

Erastil has a great respect for

and , both being fellow old deities with an adherence to community. While he may not always approve of their militancy, their followers come to aid his in times of crisis and vice versa, and Old Deadeye appreciates the loyalty.

Erastil is married to

, an ancient Azlanti god of agriculture. Scholars claim Erastil took her domain, but Jaidi, for reasons of her own, let Old Deadeye manage it for her. Whether or not this is why the hunting god changed into one of community and agriculture, Erastil refuses to say, as it is a private thing between him and his wife. There are stories of Jaidi returning in prominence, retaking her mantle of agriculture. In fact, a few priests of Erastil have adopted a twin worship of both deities, some going so far as to worship Erastil’s immediate family as a grouped pantheon.

His son,

, an Empyreal Lord, appears as an elf with stag antlers and represents the primeval forces of nature. The Elk Father disapproved of his son’s aggressive war against Hell and the Outer Rifts, and was only proven right in his mind when Cernunnos vanished when fighting brother, Garhaazh the Primal King. Erastil burns with both grief and rage at the loss, but he cannot shirk his responsibilities to the cosmos and his followers, not even for sorrow or vengeance.

His daughter,

, also an Empyreal Lord, appears as a woman with ladybug wings and two antennae, and watches over gardens, parks, and wineries. Erastil sees her domains as a bit too enamored of the over-development and superficiality of cities, though he does appreciate Halcamora’s helpful insects and the occasional gift of wine. And if a rare vintner or beekeeper has spotted the Elk Father playing with his daughter among the vines and hives, they usually know to keep it to themselves.

Divine Allies

Most of Erastil’s servants are divine animals or agathions who cleave heavily toward their animal aspect. Angels and animal-headed archons also serve the god, but Erastil does not actively recruit such beings or press his petitioners into divine service. Many of the Elk God’s agents are ancient, tracing back to his more primal aspect, and are more powerful and frightening than many of Erastil’s more civilized worshippers are comfortable with.

The Grim White Stag: A primordial spirit once worshipped as a god themselves under the Green Faith, the Grim White Stag approached and allied with Erastil out of respect for the god’s wisdom and strength. Old legends speak of a time that Erastil hunted the Grim White Stag, the pair twined irrevocably in a game of survival and death, changing their relationship only when mortal lives became less dependent on meat taken from the wilds. The Grim White Stag blurs the line between plant and beast, its mossy flanks made of pale gnarled branches of knotted wood. It’s rarely seen more than once a generation and only when a settlement is in grave peril. All animals of the forest answer its call, and all worshippers of Erastil recognize the sound of its voice when they hear it.

Divine Intercession

Erastil favors those who commit themselves to their communities and detests those who disrupt these families.

Minor Boon: Erastil shares in his bounty as long as you work for it. Whenever you roll a critical failure at a check to

in the wild, you get a failure instead.

Moderate Boon: You share Erastil’s sharp eye, allowing you to use a

in any situation. When you attack with a longbow, you can ignore the longbow’s trait, and longbows have double the normal range increment for you.

Major Boon: You become a friend to the land. You can cast

as a divine innate spell. When you’re in a healthy natural environment, the land sustains you without need for food or drink. You can cast the ritual using without any secondary casters or secondary checks.

Minor Curse: Erastil curses your table and punishes you for relying on others’ hard work. Any food you didn’t grow, gather, or otherwise harvest yourself tastes like ash and leaves you

.

Moderate Curse: Erastil’s beasts take a dislike to you. Animals’ attitudes toward you are one category worse (

instead of , instead of friendly, and so on).

Major Curse: Erastil leaves you unable to fend for yourself and forces you to rely on your community. Any attempts to grow or otherwise acquire food on your own always fail. You must instead ask others for help with these matters, whether in the form of farming, hunting, or simply asking for a meal. These attempts always require a skill check (typically

to ) and the DC is usually a for your level.