Pisaethces

The Blood Queen, Red Pool of a Thousand Young

Planar Powers: Bel | Dispater | Mammon | Fierna/Belial | Levistus | Glasya | Baalzebul | Mephistopheles | Asmodeus | Pazuzu | Orcus | Graz'zt | Baphomet | Demogorgon | Dagon | Abyssal (magic) | Abyssal (war) | Abyssal (trickery) | Ravanna | Malkizid | Zuggtmoy | Juiblex | Paush | Eltab | Pale Night | Obox-ob | Abraxas | Kostchtchie | Tymphal | Crozhen | Haknian | The Sequence | Pisaethces | mother | Kezef | The Endless Frost | Dendar | Cackles | Atropus | Tharizdun | Mak Thuum Ngatha | Yeenoghu | The Drowning Man

Aliases:
Gender:	Female
Demonym:
Power Level:	Planar Power
Symbol:	A red blot on a black field, surrounded by five smaller red stains
Alignment:	Lawful Evil
Portfolio:	Flesh, propagation of life, uncontrolled evolution
Worshipers:	(Deranged) physicians, mariners, aboleths
Arelith worshippers' alignments:	LE, NE,CE
Aspects:	Hearth and Home, Magic

Legends carry the tale of the antediluvian nothing giving rise to the first life and then the first races, in the first pangs of day and night. In the eternal naiveté of an optimistic mortalkind, principles of natural or divine investment were invented to justify this first of firsts.

Yet to those beings which emerged and unfolded from worlds beyond mortal ken, that life was but a single bloody happenstance, a coincidental tragedy, is painfully clear. Clear enough that the old ways which honored their own purported source of all was brought by these beings from worlds of throbbing and bloody evolution to the Realms themselves.

Any ontological framework is a mistake from the start, but the name Pisaethces is what She can perhaps be named. Mortals give Her this name and this gender, for it is comforting to think of Her in terms they can know. To those that conceive Her, it was Her formless mindless un-thoughts, congealed into the matter of realspace, that are all life ever sprung from.

These adherents and aberrants maintain She travels across the least-known dimensions and infinite worlds, like a blood clot tumbling through the vasculature of probability; where it is fitting for her engorged flesh to spread, it does, thus She does, emanating life into new realities. A seed that inevitably grows into something that is gifted with thought.

She: the eternal interminable suffering of evolutionary Life. It is only in the strangest depths of strangest seas, those of terrestrial worlds or distant analogues unthinkable, that Her timeless pulse is remembered. A throb of a memory never reckoned, of breaking the film of a primordial broth that Life ever once was.