This is an old revision of the document!
locations: rotglen, ashville ruins
gods: squidboots, the masked dreamer
autostrippers dispute
communist propaganda
revenant football team- dismemberments
unusual necrotech applications (exoskeleton, chainsaw, telecommunicators)
hunter's lodge initiation
WHO IS VASEHEAD?
You KNOW we've just got to talk about Vasehead! It seems like every social event and party worth going to has had this absolute gentleman from the League in attendance lately, but nobody's got a straight answer as to who he EVEN is or how he got an invite. I saw him at the Gramercy Cotillion last week talking in the corner, but he LEFT before I could get close enough to ask anything!!
Vasehead, if you're reading this I've got some things I'm just itching to know! WHO is your tailor? What accent is that (other than SEXY of course)? How do you even SEE? Do you have to water those flowers or do they just take it from your body? Do you remember anything about when you were alive? Where did you get those ANCIENT-looking gold coins from? Is there a MRS. Vasehead?? :3
-from Edie's Thoughts, the personal gossip newsletter of Miss Edith Jammishire
In the generally undifferentiated swampy tangle of the Mucklands, there is only one mountain. The natives had a name for it that's now been forgotten; everybody just calls it The Mountain now. No other name is needed, or even appropriate now that its spirit has been killed.
Climb up to the caldera and you can see the ruins of the old temple there, where the ancient people threw in their sacrifices and the monks walked barefoot on warm stone. Visiting is not recommended at the present time, however, since you'd first have to get past all of The Mountain's children vying for their dead parent's mantle. There are a lot of them, and their battles are fierce.
A bit further down the slope you can find a much more contemporary ruin: Highcastle Hot Springs Resort. A luxury getaway catering to the ultra-wealthy built around The Mountain's most beautiful hot springs, situated high above the smell and the dirt and the heartseekers in the swampland below. There was just one unforseen problem: when the rainy season begins, every pool on the mountainside becomes decidedly more caustic as dissolved sulphur flows in. When the resort's owner turned to soup, so did its funding.
There are known to be immensely valuable treasures in both the temple and the resort- the little stuff was looted, but the big fancy pieces of art and the valuable heavy construction machinery should still be mostly intact. If there were a powerful spirit with sway over the mountainside, they could theoretically control many aspects of The Mountain- even maintain the springs' purity and allow the resort to open again (or at least allow the pools to be looted and explored during the rainy season). The previous mountain spirit was uncooperative with the resort, and that's why they're dead now.
From a human standpoint, the spirits might seem to be eternal and unchanging. Many of them have been around since the dawn of humanity, and the handful that still have active cults among the Echoes seem to be pursuing basically the same agendas that they always have. This viewpoint is understandable but fundamentally incorrect.
Spirits might have significantly more longevity than humans, but they are neither eternal nor entirely independent, since human belief directly gives them sustenance and power. Old spirits whose domains no longer interest humanity must change or else fade away, and new spirits spark into being all the time in response to the changing world. At no time in history has the world changed more quickly and drastically than it has in recent years, and only a fool would assume that the spiritual world hasn't been shaken up as well.
As industrialization has increasingly changed the way humanity lives and enabled different desires to come to the forefront, spirits have arisen to feed off them. A group of nine such spirits have banded together into a loose pantheon branded the 'Neozodiac', and they grant power in exchange for dark indulgence and the path of least resistance.
The Neozodiac are not (yet) worshiped in shrines or churches but in action and deed. A power-hungry bureaucrat scheming for their next promotion prays to Monkey with every smiling lie and sabotage of a rival. A corpulent diner sits down to an entire roast turkey, and every bone sucked clean is a paean to Pig. A drilling rig dumping its salt-refining effluvia directly into the swamp has praised and bolstered Crab.
As the Neozodiac's power grows, more traditional cults petitioning them for power directly have also begun to spring up. The Imperial authorities do not frown on or persecute this activity the same way they do worshippers of the Old Gods, and so the Neozodiac's tendrils have begun to permeate popular culture. You can buy Lucky Rabbit cosmetics, deposit your leftover money into your local branch of the Ratking bank, and see a Badger Power sticker on the back of several other cars on your way home.
Though they wear the likenesses of animals, the Neozodiac are close enough to being actual demons as we understand them that the differences are purely semantic.
The Neozodiac are nine, but they are also one. They bolster one another symbiotically, even as they each undermine the other. Their fate as a pantheon is linked. They love and hate each other almost as much as they love and hate you, and one day they hope to supplant both the Moon Church and the Old Gods alike.