Valen
The Martyr
Valen (pronounced VAH-lenn), also known as the Martyr, is the Anaetherial god of self-sacrifice and redemption. He was a Human mercenary, master swordsman, a hero of the people and a symbol of justice. He transcended through his great act of sacrifice when fighting the Legion.
Table of Contents
Dogma
It is only through the act of risking oneself for the sake of saving the people that life becomes truly life. A hundred years worth of gold, riches and comforts are empty compared to the feeling of knowing there are those who harm will never fall upon, for you are the sword that will cut the peril. Creatures of the night, cruel kings and mad killers, it is our duty that we help them redeem themselves, or that they fall beneath our blade, for they chose themselves over the people. So we sharpen our blade, may it cut through hide and metal. We sharpen our mind, may it cut through lies and fury. We sharpen our spirit, may it cut through tyranny and the dark.
History
Origins
In the old kingdom of Hemania, Valen was born to a humble mason family during the Age of Heroes, circa 4.250 B.X., where he grew up listening to the tales of the legendary heroes and fighters of the past. Upon coming of age, and thirsting for some of the glory those legends spoke of, he joined a band of sellswords, called simply "The Legion". He started out as a grunt, helping around and carrying weapons for his comrades. However, he slowly came to the realization that the stories of great heroes beating cruel tyrants and slaying greedy dragons were far from reality. Fighting is bloody, gritty and painful. One job after another, one more fight against this or that force, help a revolt, help contain a revolt. By the time he had noticed, Valen's skill with the blade had become evident, as one of the strongest members of his troop, but at the same time, he had somehow lost himself, disconnected from all the fighting, the wars, the bloodshed. The loyalty to coin and whoever provided it was, at times, higher than the loyalty to his own country and beliefs.
After a couple of years fighting at their side, however, he noticed something that unsettled him. Some of his comrades had begun to spew some religious nonsense about the end of times and the fate of the world. It spread like wildfire through their ranks, turning their want for coin into a zealous quest to further some god's goals. He couldn't understand nor care about any of that, now concerned only with coin, so he simply left them, to work as a freelance mercenary.
Valen's reputation as a swordsman quickly grew, as did his wages. This soon earned him a stable clientèle amongst the rich and powerful. Some, more unprincipled than others. After a few legitimate jobs, people in the more hidden parts of society began to request his services. It started small, like beating up some debtors or protecting caravans of illegal goods. Then, protecting tyrant lords or crime syndicates who had entire regions on their knees. In time, even the act of killing an unarmed man over a bag of coins didn't seem to faze him too much. Some concepts had began to blur; good and evil, justice and fairness. The only two variables worth considering for Valen were the money, and his safety. As long as he had his coin in his pocket and his head on his neck at the end of the day, everything would be just fine.
Road to Divinity
One particularly stormy night, Valen was tasked with ending the life of a noblewoman who had upset the resident rich and powerful, over some new tax laws she was planning and that "didn't seem fair" in their eyes. The money was good. Too good to refuse. So he set out, his tracks and approach covered by the raging storm. He made short work of the guards posted right outside the noble's house, and soon found himself within the woman's bedchamber. She was alone, and still asleep. He made sure she would never wake up.
The deed done, Valen began to set out, covered in mud and blood. Right behind him, however, at the bedchamber's door, stood a single boy, not over a dozen winters old. It was her child, who came to her scared by the storm. Valen had plenty of time to silence the kid, end it quickly and painlessly. However, he simply stood there, their gazes locked for a second that felt like ten years. The kid's eyes were full of a piercing hatred and fear. Was this what a bunch of coins had earned Valen? Was this what he wanted as a child, the reason why he picked up a sword in the first place? To become the man who kills mothers in their sleep? No. The child ran away, calling for the city guard. Valen didn't run. The guards came, he dropped his weapon, and then peacefully surrendered.
The next ten years in the dungeon were no hindrance for Valen's training. He honed his body as best as the chains and cuffs allowed, not allowing himself to lose his edge. It was the work of his mind, however, which strained him the most. He replayed the acts of cruelty and violence he had committed throughout his lifetime, all of it for the sake of some bloodstained coins. Beating up the defenseless, infesting cities with crime and contraband, killing a boy's mother, an act of selfish cruelty after another. In order to keep the ghosts away, he sharpened his mind and resolve as he sharpened his own body.
One night, he was approached by the same greedy, rich men, calling for his services once more. They would have him released, if he would be willing to end another noble who was going to put a dent in their pockets. He knew. So he refused, explaining to them that his time in chains had weakened him, appearing broken and defeated. The rich men left. The very next day, someone new showed up at his dungeon door, a blade in their hand. He knew. They had planned everything. It was a stormy night with no moon, the dungeon guards were bribed out of their posts, and he knew there was going to be an assassination. They were ready to silence him. Not as ready as Valen, however. He knew everything that was unfolding that very night.
His assailant stood no chance against him, even in chains, soon finding their blade out of their hands and inside their own guts. Valen broke free, armed, and with a mission. In the cloak of night and pouring rain, he ran, heading to a house he knew all too well: the same house he had walked into one night, only to walk out in chains. He knew it was her son, the torchbearer of her mother's legacy, who was the target now. He would not allow it.
He managed to just see the last armed man entering through the front door, the guards outside dead. Frothing at the mouth, fire pumping in his veins and without stopping once in his sprint, he slammed through, ripping the door out of its hinges, crushing the first of the dozen men that stood within the house. He took less than a minute, focused and determined to end this. His blade cut through them like he cut through the house, felling one after the other, without a care for his own safety.
The last thug died in the bedchamber, with a sword through his neck, but not before leaving his dagger in Valen's gut. He stood there, a hundred cuts on his body, in front of the noble child–now a man–who stood between him and his wife and baby. They locked eyes once more, and on the nobleman's eyes he saw neither hatred nor fury. This time, there was only sadness. All Valen could do was fall to his knees, his blade on the floor, crying like a child and murmuring apologies before passing out.
Valen awoke to find himself bandaged and alive. The nobleman stood in one side of the room, looking out a window, while his physician cared for the wounded warrior. "You saved my life, my wife's and my daughter's. I shall never forget what you have done for me", the nobleman said, "but neither will I forget what you did to me. My family and I are safe, thanks to you, but I don't think there's a way to amend for what you did that night". Valen simply lay there, looking down in shame. "However, there might be a chance for you to amend for everything else", the nobleman went on. "Use that sword of yours for something greater, something better than you once did". Valen locked eyes with him once more to see something new in those eyes. "Become the hero that my childhood legends speak of", said the man, with the shine of hope in his eyes.
Valen recovered, and from that day on, he wielded his sword for those who could not do it for themselves. He became a paragon of justice and abnegation, a swordsman without an equal, who protected the realm from cruelty and evil.
Transcendence
In his final years, Valen began to hear tales. Unsettling ones, of entire towns slaughtered and razed to the ground. At times, they told of an army. Others, of a single fighter. A tireless force of rage and chaos. However, there was always a name: Legion. It was then that the First Children called to him, asking for his aid. The Soldier himself asked Valen to aid them in conquering this unstoppable force, for it threatened to wake Naminus from his eternal rest. A force so great and furious, that even Aetherius could not manage to banish it from the world. The Deity of War told him that, should he manage to weaken Legion for just a moment, they could use the advantage and cast this monstrosity out of the universe, into Abyss, an endless pit it would never crawl out from. He accepted without hesitation, and the gods blessed him with divine strength, speed and wit, as much as a mortal could withstand, in order to even the field.
When Valen finally crossed paths with Legion, it was to his horror that he witnessed the truth behind it: his old troupe had gone mad worshiping the god of chaos and destruction, Naminus. They had gained powers beyond imaginable, by binding themselves to each other in death. They ravaged the land, destroying everything and everyone, recruiting and enslaving more fighters for their cause. As their bodies fell, their souls, twisted and bent on the destruction of the world, rejoined the bodies their companions, passing on to them the accumulated martial prowess of a lifetime. By the time Valen met Legion, it was down to the last fighter standing; a single entity of fury and rage, an amalgamation of dozens upon dozens of hateful wills and the equivalent of centuries of combat skill.
Valen knew this would be his last battle. Their blades met, each blow from Legion rocking through his soul, shaking the very earth with every impact. He fought with the abomination ceaselessly for three days and their nights, sustained purely on divine stamina, and once that run out, adrenaline, their blades managing to land on flesh only one out of every hundred blows. However, the abomination seemed to tire slower than him by the fourth dawn. Spent, wounded, and more dead than alive, Valen saw the sunrise of the fourth day. For that one moment, as his eyes adjusted to the light, he basked in the sunshine he would not see a single more time. He lunged at the tired aberration, and in one last bout of strength, while grappled by the beast, he impaled both it and himself with his blade, and called for the gods' aid. He asked them to send them both to the mouth of Abyss. The gods complied, using Valen's sacrifice as the key to banish both out of this universe. With what little life was left in him, Valen pushed Legion down the endless pit.
With his blade buried in the ground, standing guard at the mouth of the pit, stood a dying Valen. Aetherius, as a reward for his grand work, set out to return the fighter to the land of the living, healed, and as a hero. However, he found himself unable to return the man to Namyria. Valen's willpower anchored him and his blade to the ground he now stood in, refusing to die or move a single fraction of an inch. His indomitable spirit, now turned into an aegis of immovable stone, stronger than any metal in any plane, engulfed the entirety of the maw of the endless Abyss.
To this day, the Martyr still guards the entrance, atop the Eternal Bastion, awaiting the Legion climbs out of Abyss once again. His sacrifice, an act of heroism without compare for millennia to come. Songs and statues were made in his name, and he became a symbol of self-sacrifice and redemption. Champions of the people, knights and protectors wield their blades in his name, to defend the defenseless, to treat the people justly, and to put their lives between evil and those it seeks to harm.
Relationships
Legion
The Legion is Valen's greatest nemesis; a force of destruction and death bent on ending the world, killing everyone in its wake. Valen stands guard against it to this day atop the Eternal Bastion, as it craws in the endless depths of the Abyss.
Gerrash Vahar
As an executioner gone homicidal, Valen sees Gerrash Vahar as a monstrous entity the likes of Legion, if only less centered on the destruction of the world, only the thirst of blood.
Taran Calben
As the guardian of the Dreamscape, Taran Calben protects the dreaming minds of mortals from being preyed upon by creatures not of this world. For this, Valen considers him a great ally in the protection of the weak and defenseless.
Indira
The Hoardless Dragon, a bringer of prosperity for those in need, is another just and kind ally for Valen's cause of protecting those who need it most.
Appearance
Apparitions of the Martyr are vague, and rare, but if he is to show himself to mortals, then he appears as a young man, of whatever race feels more comfortable for the viewer, wielding silver armour and a longsword.
Divine Intervention
Acts of intervention form Valen are rare, for he is immersed in his fight against Legion. In the cases that he interferes, his devout and blessed might find themselves suddenly inspired and filled with bravery, or even supernatural strength, to fell those who would prey on the weak.
Church
There is no formal church for Valen, but protectors and champions will often call themselves his clergy, followers and practitioners of the way of the Martyr, protecting the weak from the evil, and bringing redemption to those willing.
Divine Domains
Self-sacrifice, redemption, greater good, combat
Divine Symbols & Sigils
Most symbols representing the Martyr show a sword–of varying kinds depending of the culture–piercing a circle from above, a symbol representing the way his sword was embedded in the ground at the mouth of Abyss when his watch began.
Divine Classification
Anaetherial Ascended
Species
Realm
Life
4250 B.X.
4210 B.X.
40 years old
Circumstances of Death
Fighting against Legion, trapped in Abyss
Children
Ruled Locations
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