"The Old Gods have one thing that these new ones do not. Compassion. Whether you believe or not, Hiathas does not loathe you. Hiathas does not curse you. You are loved by the Dawnbringer."

Nicknames: The Last of the Dawnbringers, the Pervert Priest

Faction: The Cult of Hiathas, Imperial Citizen

Age: 27

Gender: None (See Character History, paragraph 1)

Character History: Marius Triar was born the illegitimate son of an Imperial Chirurgeon to one of his maid attendants. After his birth, Imperial records register him as a Male- though this would change somewhat in the years to come when Marius became a Cleric of the Dawnfather. To this day he does accept the use of more masculine terms, or feminine ones interchangeably.

Raised in the Cosmopolitan centers of the Empire, Marius was taught to read, write, and make observations of the human body as a matter of course by his father. Though to this day he is not acknowledged officially, the man wanted to maintain a literate household as he valued intelligent conversation and learned folk above all others.

It wasn't until Marius entered his teenage years that troubles began brewing between the two of them. Rather than attending his father as a copier of records, he began taking on more "women's work" and altering his appearance in none too subtle ways, challenging the masculine norms of his father's society. The two would fight often over this, but Marius' father chalked it up to simple teenage rebellion. Marius never told him about the book of the Old Gods he'd found in his father's library, with its stories that seemed to pique his interest and somehow speak to his soul. Here was a Hunter Goddess in trousers and armor. Here was a Sea God, both man and woman. And here was a Sun God Hiathas, with his loving husband of the Forest, who spoke freely of compassion.

By chance or design, Marius found that the only known Cleric of Hiathas, Yvan Trona, was due to give a lecture at the University. Marius went, expecting to find a dotering old man proselytizing before his death to a room of equally aged professors and Scribes. Instead, he found a passionate speaker railing against the unwillingness of the Imperial Church to preach compassion to their worshipers, to an audience of one.

It was love at first sight. And it was reciprocated.

Marius and Yvan carried on their clandestine affair for some time within the city, with Yvan introducing him to the rites of the Dawnfather and traditional stories.

The story of their love's end isn't one Marius cares to speak about, even to the crew of the vessel. Most of the regular crew note that the day he arrived, he paid in Imperial lyra for passage out of the territory, that he wore used robes of a Cleric of an ancient Southlands church, and that he quickly became useful aboard the vessel as a Chirurgeon. Marius keeps his own company, especially after some of the bilge crew assaulted him on the first week. But he is content to forfeit his share of the plunder in order to facilitate his flight from the Empire.

Dogma: The cult of Hiathas in ancient times was a simple one. The Dawnfather, Hiathas, held daylight, athletics, hope, and non-heterosexual love as the domain of his priests and priestesses. His beloved was Braniel, God of the Forests. The priests were often neither male nor female, but took a third gender blending the two. Those who were born with characteristics of both men and women were looked highly upon and could rise highly within the cult.

The Cult gave blessings to marriages between men, women, and those who were neither, pioneered some early healing techniques, and oversaw the harvests in the days of the Southern Republic. Their religious texts mention miraculous healing as well as athletes who could jump so high they seemed to fly and dancers who moved with the grace of flowing water.

The Cult of Hiathas held sway within the Old Republican days of the Southlands for generations, up until the time modern scholars posit the war against the Demon Famerin happened. Many scholars note that this "demon" was actually an interpretation of the Eastern Warlord Famahl of the Haru and the devastation wrought by his hordes on the Southlands. And the Hordes did introduce the cult of the One God to the region, which began the decline of the old cults among the peasants. After all, why pay for eight sacrifices to offer at the altars of different gods when you only need pay for one? It wasn't until the fall of the Republic and the arrival of the first Empress that the cult began to enter a true death spiral. The Imperial Church vied with the Eastern Faith for the hearts of the people, but both sides seemed to agree that it was time for the old cults to go.

The Eastern Church feels the Dawnbringer's message is too forgiving compared to the realities of the world. Only the One God may dispense with hope and compassion, and they must be earned through blood and toil- not given out like flowers at a festival.

The Imperial Church feels the talk of men loving men, of more forms than Man and Woman, of such scandalous talk of life without marriage, to be not only sinful, but unsuitable even for academic discussion. Now universities, the last places where talk of Hiathas and his brothers and sisters happened regularly, are adjusting their curriculum to label the followers of the cult as nothing more than lecherous perverts.

Now the Cult of Hiathas has one priest left. And he knows he can only pray that he will one day carry the Dawnbringer's Torch to keep Hope alive...

Relic: The Dawnbringer's Torch
The Dawnbringer's Torch was said to be a sign of divine favor from his domain. The heart of the Torch fell from the sky during the feast of Midsummer near a shrine to the God outside the city of Veralia in the south. For a time it was enshrined as an eternally burning stone, one that held miraculous properties. Day and night, in wind and snow, the fallen stone would retain heat and glow with an otherworldly power. The people

When the time came to seal the Demon away, the Hierarch of the Dawnfather willingly gave up the sacred stone to the greatest smiths in the Republic. Legends say they cut down the entire Forest of Braniel to feed the flames needed to make the stone maleable, forging it as the centerpiece of the Torch. The name of the stave's wielder has long since been lost to time, as has the knowledge of the weapon's unlocked powers, but the stories do note that the stave seemed to blind demons and burn those described as "unworthy" of the Dawnfather's favor. More fanciful tales even state that the Torch would grant its wielder wings- a notion that is quickly dismissed by even the simplest child these days.

In the centuries since the binding of the Demon, the weapon has always been carried by a Cleric of Hiathas. And as the ages passed, with religions rising and falling constantly within the borders of the Empire, the weapon was lost in the Wars of Reformation 183 years ago when the Hierarch of the Cult, Dyna Fomora, was seized by a mob, drawn, and quartered for the crime of buggery with their beloved. From that moment on, the staff was lost to time...

Blessings
Where the staff goes, the people begin to enjoy kinder weather- clear skies and cool breezes. Hope comes easily to them. The future seems brighter as if the gods themselves are smiling on them. Travelling Companions with the Torch's wielders have noted that they have been inspired to actions that they normally would not feel capable of doing. Legends say that the touch of the wrought steel from the Dawnbringer's Torch is painful to the touch when pressed against the flesh of demons, and that those who enjoyed Hiathas' favor would be granted flight by him. This last power was last "observed" more than six-hundred years ago and has not been noted since.

Curse
The staff brings the sense that those around it are God-touched. And joy for blessings one day quickly turn to fanaticism and factionalism the next. If the staff stays in one location longer than several days, neighbors will take any sign of impropriety as offense against their own patron gods. Those who hold no gods in their hearts will simply assume the worst of their own neighbors. If the staff does not move on, in short order a lovely village will become desolate from religious warfare.