The Mosaic Tarot

It's said by the Cults that there was once a time where the only people who could communicate, or hear, the gods were a chosen few. Ordained as they were, they took up cardinal roles in Otonomoi society and attempted to impart the knowledge of the gods to us. These priests and priestesses were not infallible, however, and they lead the Otonomoi astray.
Their flocks turned upon each other, trying to prove their leaders right and righteous, and worse still; started to prey upon the Humans. The church's words, not my own, though I do have to admit that there are archeological sites that suggest such a period existing in the past. A great upheaval of society and belief.
As the legions gnawed upon the bones of each other, the gods worried about what they could do to solve it. Even if they descended and stopped the warring, what was to keep it from simply happening again when next their mouthpieces twisted their words. The Storm Maiden gripped her lance tight, itching to simply do something, whatever it was. The Sun in Robes and Moon in Rags were too busy to suggest anything, trying to guide the dead to their proper place. Finally, a calm voice spoke, pulling the attention of the gods to it's source.
They found the speaker was a goddess none had paid any attention to for the longest time, for she seemed to prefer anonymity and had never stood out. Even then she wore a hood an veil, obscuring her features, but her hands drew all the attention. As the other gods watched, she worked. Placing a rectangle of paper thing crystal upon her table and drawing a set of paints from her sleeve, she set about applying color in practiced strokes and in but a moment had completed her piece. Upon the sheef of crystal, she had painted the portrait of another god; the Wild Woman, who she held the card out to. When the Wild Woman had taken the card, staring at the image it bore with intensity, the hooded woman reached into her sleeve again and pulled out a stack of these crystal cards, and placed them in the table.
The gods were silent, each waiting for her to paint another. She simply tapped the deck with one finger and the cards sprung to life.
Each square of crystal aligned itself with its compatriots on the table, revealing the already painted image up its surface. Once they all came to rest in perfect order, each of the present gods could see that they were represented by a card. Each card captured its god in a way that cut to their heart. A simple but effective summation of their divinity. Finally, the hooded woman spoke.
"Take your cards, brothers and sisters, but only yours. Each of you need to impart a piece of yourself within it, whatever that means to you, and I will use it to give our guidance to our Glass Children. All of them will be able to know our directions and the the tumult below will never occur again."

Item type

Religious / Ritualistic

I still have the deck given to me by my priest friend, though I've never really looked at it with any seriousness. Perhaps I should when I've finished my writing, it's almost a personal failing that I haven't done so yet.

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Not every copy of the Mosaic Tarot is identical.
Their makers tend to take liberties, including a god the local church doesn't or leaving a different one out. An individual determines the contents of a personal deck, guided by the idea of what each individual god stands for to them.
It's considered a highly spiritual action to have fully crafted one's own Tarot deck, even if the churches themselves don't always fully appreciate it.