In The Midst of Black Seas
Domains Chaos, Good, Sun, Celestial, Liberation.
Favored Weapon Maul
Symbol A Hand, Chained to an Ugly, Black Maul.
God of the Broken Chain, King of Endless Day, Great Destroyer of the Oppressor.
His philosophies are very easily explained with a popular story among slaves that look to Grahd for guidance.
“There once was an old man who was miles from home. He sat in a dusty tent every night, and worked all day in the blistering sun. He built a Throne for a new King to be. Without pay and without thanks, he and his children suffered to build as shackles scarred their wrists and whips scarred their backs.
After years of toil and sacrifice, with nothing received for their work, the Throne was complete. It was brilliant, a colossal pyramid with a glistening chair atop it. Fit for a God, the forman said. All this was built by one small family’s blood and broken bones, and the results were beautiful. ‘What could we make,’ the foreman asked of himself, ‘With 3 families. What could we build, what could we take?’ The slaves heard this as they put up the finishing blocks upon the stairs. The old man saw before him a large sledgehammer. Larger than the ones they used daily, larger than the one the foreman used to break his legs when he would speak up against his ‘betters.’
He grasped the hammer and felt it guide his hands to it’s head. The large stone maul-head was ugly and black. It reflected his sorrows, his hatred, and his anguish.
A man, then, stood beside him. A tall, muscled man sat beside him. Dark Black of skin, and toned of flesh. His teeth were pearls of brilliant white and his eyes were red and white.
‘You know what to do. That throne is yours. You built it. You sit atop it, and I will be your God.’
The old man looked back at this stranger who promised him freedom. ‘What do we call you?’
‘You,’ he growled, his lips pulled back to expose his canines, ‘May call me Grahd.’
The Old man found vigor in his bones and took the Maul into his arms.
He ran at the foreman with all of his speed and strength, the ugly maul over his head. The first blow released a blinding light from the oppressor’s back.
He disintegrated immediately, and the Old man continued his course.
A few more whippers went down easily, and finally he met his ‘Master.’ The King To Be.
For all his grandeur, for all his bombastic proclamations and prostrated power, he was weak.
And his skull cracked open, just like any other man.
As his family screamed and came to his side, the Old man wiped off the blood from the Maul.
‘This is our land now. We shall rule where we have toiled. It is our right to rise up.’
This is our Land, and Grahd is our Lord.”
Grahd as of yet has no churches, nor any shrine in the Genesis College.
Grahd has, as of yet, no Clergies. His clerics are few and far between and his worshipers have no formal place to meet. It is possible that if the God or his Clerics do not intervene, his message may be lost to the World.