Ka’arpav
 God of Corruption and Vice
Lesser God

Epithets: The Corrupter, Lord of Vice, The Prince of Gamblers, The Debauched  
Alignment: Chaotic evil
Symbol: Broken sword
Colors: Gray and rust red
Primary followers: Sociopaths, substance abusers, and degenerates of every stamp

     In contrast to most of the True Gods of Minarra, the true form of the Corrupter is a topic of considerable debate among sages and prelates alike. Artistic depictions of the god vary considerably between cultures, races, and artists; the only thing the interpretations have in common is the disgust they well up in the souls of the decent. The best composite description of this terrible power (based upon eyewitness accounts of his infrequent avatars) runs something like this:

     The aged human body of the god is grossly overweight, with rolls of flab dangling from the bloated cheeks and multiple chins. His perpetually unhealthy skin is either ruddy from alcohol, ashen from drugs, or welted by diseases whose nature is best left unmentioned. The smoldering black eyes are always afire with lust and revelry, and the god’s sparse gray hair is eternally unkempt. Though he dresses in the finest clothes, the god has the appearance of not having washed either them or himself in weeks. His cloying reek is surpassed only by the undead stench of Gyula.

     Of all the powers of darkness, Ka’arpav probably inspires more genuine terror in the hearts of mortals than any other. To many common folk, Lazev’s evil legions are a distant abstraction, while Gouhr’s influence is rarely felt in the world beneath the sun and stars. The will of Vetch can be thwarted by strong laws and the will to enforce them, and Gyula’s plagues, though horrifying, always burn themselves out in the end. But Ka’arpav is a different story. Vice, lechery, the willful self-immolation through drink or gambling or worse—these can destroy emperor and beggar alike, anywhere, at any time. The Corrupter’s tools are always at the ready to claim their share of every generation.

     Aside from the paraphernalia which mark the god’s dissolute existence—cards, dice, and whatnot—Ka’arpav has but one possession in which he takes pride: a broken, rusted longsword of mortal forging and the most ancient pedigree. The story behind this weapon is told in horrifying detail in the Fourth Book of the Astarith; it is the tale of Sikerryx, revered champion of the Rifkis the Peacekeeper, and the sword Panthorian, blessed blade of the House of Light. The insidious descent of the Knight, and the tragic failure of the weapon to steer him from his approaching doom, has been an object lesson of the baseness buried within the strongest of hearts ever since.

     In the end, the fallen Knight used the hapless Panthorian to murder his own wife, the blade’s noble spirit being no match for the sadistic will of the Corrupter. But as Panthorian took the life of the innocent, it shattered upon a jeweled pendant bearing the image of a dove, the sacred symbol of Serenyi the Justicer. Free of its steel shell, the spirit of the sword whisked Lady Iloria’s soul away to the Blessed Havens moments before the Corrupter arrived to claim the broken pieces of the murderer and his weapon. Sikerryx now serves the god as a death knight of the most foul sort, while the corroded remains of Panthorian’s corpse adorn the god's bloated form.

     Avatars: Avatars of the Lord of Vice are few and far between. Appearing as often to his victims as to his clergy, Ka’arpav usually appears as the artists of the ages have depicted him. On rare occasion, the avatar is that of a nervous, emaciated youth, glassy eyed and always ready for one more drink or roll of the dice. Ka’arpav’s avatars are always accompanied by the remains of Panthorian; it is said that the merest scratch from the blade brings an agonizing death from blood poisoning unless a magical cure is near at hand. The god’s proxy is never seen in daylight hours, but is very much at home in brothels, gambling houses, sleazy taverns, and drug dens.

     Mortal servants: Clerics and Knights of the faith are few, for few mortals can bear the virtual extinction of decency and dignity that the Lord of Vice requires of his faithful. The training of a cleric or Knight is often a solitary affair between a teacher and a lone student, the latter carefully selected for their malleable and self-destructive natures.

     Acolytes and squires of the Order must "earn" their longswords of office before their formal entry into Ka’arpav’s service. Stealing the weapon from a habitual drunkard, winning it in a rigged game of chance, or extorting it from lost souls desperate to conceal their vices are all time-honored methods. The sword must then be broken, with the last foot or so of the blade missing, and allowed to rust before the weapon may be consecrated and its owner formally ordained.

     "Worship" takes place wherever the lowest of the low-life endure their wretched existence; the Order will pass word along that a "wild party" is taking place at such a place and time, and then will finance the affair to make the event truly memorable…that is, if the guests survive the ordeal.

     As befitting the Order, each member is cursed with their own self-inflicted corruption. These vices are so corrosive to the body and spirit that few survive long enough to become Graces and Lord Knights. It is whispered that the Cruelties are so debased that their bodies are neither truly alive nor truly undead, their intellects decayed into a malevolent, sadistic cunning.

     Philosophy/Tenets of Faith: This is a faith that couldn’t care less about the affairs of the spirit or the mind. At the table of the Lord of Vice, self-absorption, depravity, and nihilism are the traditional bill of fare. Anything goes, so long as you can take your "pleasures" wherever and whenever you wish.